Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 14
A/N: This isn't a spoiler since hopefully you've read the books, but those of you curious about what's happening back in Hogwarts, we're entering Christmas break where soon Harry will be stuck at school, and Dumbledore will be talking to him about the Mirror of the Erised. Luckily, Harry, Ron, and Neville were able to piece together parts of Nicholas Flamel, but not quite everything, so Dumbledore will be leaving some breadcrumbs in the form of Chocolate Frogs. Neville's great, but the trio really needs Hermione's brain. Second year couldn't come there fast enough.
December 7th, 1991
Erkling screeched in pain, as Hermione locked in on its true magical color, a pink colored labeled Azalea on her color charts that she spent ten minutes a day memorizing during one of her free blocks at school at Ms. Walker's behest.
Hermione wasn't sure what the dark earth brown color was for, but Erkling had all but glowed with this pink color when it started singing it's song again, and she'd recognized it in an instant from when it'd hypnotized her.
She planned to denote the skill to do so Rose-Colored Glaasses in her journal later.
Another cry sounded, and Hermione hesitated, wanting to turn and glance at Charles and Dr. Hampton, but they'd told her to pretend they weren't here so as to encourage her to follow her instincts and not get distracted.
Unfortunately, her instincts screamed at her that this was wrong.
For your parents, Hermione reminded herself.
"What are you doing?" Erkling shrieked in pain. "No! Stop!"
Despite studying the connection between Ignis and herself, she couldn't figure out how to attach the tether between them, only that it was there from the time they'd met, a bluebell color to match their energies.
However some of energy manipulation was about the intent, so she switched to her metavision and wound the line of azalea around the being. Erkling was thrashing so much though that he nearly broke free, so she worked on a more complicated knot, sending out another cord and thickening the connection, weaving in loops and ties.
It would be catastrophic, deadly even, if Erkling ever broke free, so Hermione wound a veritable net, doing her best to drown out the pain-filled sounds of crying creature that spat insults and threats throughout the duration.
When it was finished, Hermione returned to her normal vision, staring at the creature. He stood ramrod straight, staring blankly off into space.
She licked her lips, feeling weak. "Erkling?"
The creature jerked, focusing on her. "Yes, mistress?"
She blinked back into her metavision to verify the tether had held and this wasn't some sort of trick. In doing so, she caught sight of the brown swirling around his mouth, but the pink net, almost like a cloying cage now, had settled into place, holding tight. "What is that brown energy you use?"
"Erkling knows not what you talk of, mistress."
Maybe these creatures shared a powerful core like her, but perhaps they didn't possess the ability to see energy the way she did. She tilted her head. "Are you using any… power at the moment?"
"Erkling is using erkling power to speak the language of humans."
She frowned. "Erkling power? Are you… is your name not Erkling?"
"No, mistress. That is the name humans use for my kind."
Hermione's brows jumped on her forehead in surprise. "Well, what is your name?"
The erkling frowned in concentration. "Erkling does not know how to say in human tongue. Erklish is not a language humans can hear or reproduce, so I cannot speak it to you. I—eenuh!" the erkling grunted in pain. "I can't, mistress. I—"
Hermione's eyes widened in alarm as she held her hands out. "It's okay! It's okay. You don't have to worry about it."
Instantly the erkling calmed, it's face returning to blank. "Yes, mistress. Erkling will not worry about it."
Hermione felt a shiver of unease at the emptiness in the creature's eyes. "Would you like to pick a human name that I can call you?"
Again, the erkling's face scrunched up in pain. "Erkling doesn't need name. My will is your will, mistress. Erkling is extension of you."
Hermione tried to give an encouraging smile. "Nonsense. Everyone needs a name. What would you like me to call you?"
"Dimitri."
Hermione frowned, a shiver racing down her spine. "No, I will not call you one of the names of your victims."
The erkling began to vibrate in place. "No, I do not know any other names. I only know human speech I am exposed to. Human names—mistress, I—"
"Erl!" Hermione cut in, worried the being would explode if it couldn't fulfill her order. "I will call you Erl."
"Mistress?"
"It's based on the folklore of erlking, not erkling, though your story's origin is not dissimilar to the erlking of myths—an elven king that preyed on children."
"Yes, mistress."
Hermione blinked into her metavision, and the azalea strands were still there, gripping him tight in their netting. Some of the strands have even begun to sink into the creatures skin, as if her influence was being absorbed into his capillaries, poisoning its system.
She shuddered and blinked out of her vision, turning back to Dr. Hampton and Charles.
"Are you done? Did it work?" Dr. Hampton asked, an inappropriate giddiness coloring his words considering how slimy she felt.
"Yes," she intoned.
"Are you sure?" Charles added.
She faced them, her expression blanking. "Jump."
Even without looking and without their reactions, she knew the erkling would be obeying her every command.
"Stop. Dance." She allowed it to continue long enough for her point to get across. This was the same creature that'd fought them tooth and nail along the way, stubborn in its refusal to beat to the tune of their drum, and now it was the puppet at the end of her strings. Her throat tightened as she choked out, "Stop. Seen enough?"
Slow clapping startled her out of her reverie.
Ms. Walker and the same group of powerful men from before had witnessed her "success." "Perfect, Miss Granger."
Hermione detested the praise.
"I think it's time to step up our game now. We'll run some more tests, but if things work out, I think it's time for us to have another chat, girl to girl."
January 7th, 1992
Hermione tried her best not to allow the tears to roll down her cheeks as she stood in their front foyer, her belongings packed into suitcases behind her.
"Oh, Hermione. I just don't know," her mum cried.
Ms. Walker indicated for Hermione to take the chair before her. "Miss Granger, so nice of you to drop in."
Hermione couldn't recall a time where she'd been in this office by herself. "Did I have a choice?"
Ms. Walker smiled through her teeth. "Now, you've impressed all of us with what you've been able to accomplish with Subject 202 beneath your thumb. We're officially greenlighting this program."
Hermione felt her hackles rise. "What program?"
"Operation Prisma."
"It's okay, Mum. Just think of it like boarding school," Hermione tried her best to convince her parents while holding back her tears as her mum pulled her into a hug.
"School is no longer necessary. I've seen your grades and read your teachers' comments. At best, those classes are busy work. No, instead, you'll be moving out of your home and into the headquarters."
Hermione blinked in shock. "You want me to leave my home?"
Ms. Walker sat forward, a glimmer of actual remorse in her gaze that startled Hermione. "Precisely. Despite being bonded with Subject 202, you've shown little progress since you've bound him to you."
"It's been two days!"
"And you would've been much further along if you weren't being pulled in so many directions. Trust me, Hermione. Your mind and talents are being wasted going through the normal educational program. That was designed for the masses, but sometimes people just don't fit the mold. Think of all you could accomplish. Every day is a groundbreaking discovery. You'll be able to choose what you want to study, not just for two free periods, but for the entire day."
Hermione frowned. "Why would MI5 spend so much money to allow me to pursue my interests?"
Ms. Walker sat back. "Because your interests align with ours. You've excelled at languages but think of how much faster that could be with personal tutors, native language speakers, all-expense paid field trips."
Hermione frowned, feeling Ignis curl restlessly within her hair. "And if my interests don't align with the Secret Service's?"
Ms. Walker's ruby red lips curled into a smile. "You're a clever, cunning girl, Hermione. Pragmatic. I like that about you."
When Hermione didn't reply, but instead waited pointedly for a response, Ms. Walker reclined back in her chair, clasping her hands loosely across her stomach. "I'm not going to lie. There will be some instances where you'll have to do what we ask, for example your physical training exercises with Trainer Hart, those will continue and be given twice a day, along with some other things like color theory classes, visualization techniques—nothing that you haven't done before while working with Dr. Hampton, but with more purpose and hired experts from their respective fields. Think of it as an entire curriculum based completely on you and reaching your full potential, to become the best version of yourself."
Hermione licked her lips. "And what does MI5 believe is the best version of myself?"
Ms. Walker smiled. "Well, for one, a leading woman figure in her own field, someone with immense skill and power." Her smile turned self-deprecating. "More power than me, even."
Hermione was no fool. Ms. Walker was one such collectible, in a high position at MI5 for being an expert at her field, and her expertise was manipulating people.
Hermione also had a memory like a steel trap, and she hadn't forgotten the threats Ms. Walker made on her parents' livelihoods and possibly even their lives. With the nature of MI5 versus one powerless family from the suburbs, Hermione knew her only actual choice was to play along.
Her mum sniffed. "But—but what about your friends at school?"
Hermione shrugged. "To be completely honest, I never had anyone that close to me."
Her dad stepped forward now. "But, Tootsie, giving up and withdrawing completely won't help that. You'll never connect with people your age—"
"I never will!" Hermione cut her dad off, using a show of anger to explain the tears that'd begun to spill over. "Don't you get it? I'll never fit in with people my own age. I've seen and experienced death more times than any twelve-year-old should have to experience." Shocked silence fell over the foyer. "When I read echoes from objects, I'm not just seeing what happened to them, I'm living it."
Her parents' jaws dropped. Her dad swallowed heavily. "Tootsie, you never told us—"
"But I did! I told you from the very beginning. Remember sweet old Ambicus Horatius who died alone as a widow and festered and rotted until a neighbor called in a smell complaint? I told you them, but I guess it was too tough to concentrate on, that your little girl would have to be exposed to something so horrifying as to slowly watch the worms and maggots decompose her flesh over the course of days."
Indeed, her parents looked horrified.
Hermione relented. "Look, I'm not entirely blameless. I downplayed the unpleasant aspects a lot because I wanted to be able to keep using this curse for the greater good. School can't really help me like MI5 can. Lately, it's felt like I'm just biding my time until the final bell rings."
"B-But my parents will never go for something like this," Hermione whispered, prepared to play at agreement. The oft-whispered "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer" wasn't an overused cliché. It was sound advice.
And Hermione would play along for now. When faced with the choice between fighting this decision and risking her parents, she would choose this path in a heartbeat.
Of course, a small, dark part of her whispered that she wanted to see what all MI5 could offer her.
She banished any guilt over the thought. Why shouldn't she take advantage of a horrible situation? MI5 was offering her incentive, a bribe, knowledge at the tips of her fingers.
They might as well have told her that she'd be moving into a library full time.
Ms. Walker leaned forward. "I can give you some pointers on the art of persuasion, Hermione, but ultimately, it's up to you to get them on board."
Hermione squared her shoulders. "And I think it's time to admit that I won't have a normal job. I'll always be haunted by these ghosts and be called on to help with these creatures that no one else can see. None of those require A-Levels. The MI5 can offer me the chance to encourage my powers, to encourage me."
The implication that her parents failed on that aspect hurt because they'd always been in her back pocket. Even when she'd misunderstood so much as a young child about her parents' actions, she knew better now with hindsight. What parent didn't want to believe their sweet three or four year old was just making up stories and imaginary friends when faced with the possibility of supernatural dangers that they had no way of shielding said child from?
No, her parents had been in her corner, always, but Hermione was smart enough, cruel enough to realize they'd never let her go without guilt fueling their choices.
After a full minute of quiet, her dad nodded. "Well, okay then."
Hermione glanced up from her lap. "How long do I have to convince them?"
Ms. Walker rapped her fingernail on the shiny desktop. "You have until the end of the holidays to convince them this is the right choice for you. If not…"
Hermione didn't need her to finish her statement.
Her dad shook his head again, squaring his own shoulders. "Okay then. We'll support this. If you think this is for the best and that they're the next logical choice for you."
"I do," Hermione whispered, unable to voice anything stronger when her throat had clogged up tight with her grief.
"Then let's do this," he said, stooping to pick up her luggage. "What do you have in here, Tootsie? A case full of books?"
The joke fell flat when her mum burst into tears, hugging her close and whispering about her baby girl.
The drive to MI5 was longest they'd ever experienced.
"Of course we'll visit every weekend," her mum began, and Hermione panicked.
"No!"
Her parents startled, her dad's eyes flashing to hers in the rearview mirror.
Hermione calmed herself. "I mean, no. It'll make this too… it'll be too difficult to see this program through if I'm constantly being reminded of home."
"But Tootsie—"
"I already know I'll be in charge of creating my study schedule, so it'll likely be packed at first. You know me," she joked, but this attempt at humor fell flat as well considering how her entire crowning argument had been playing on their guilt for not knowing something about her.
Her dad's throat bobbed.
Hermione cleared hers. "Can you… pretend like this is regular boarding school? It's just the one term, and then the summer."
"Will you be released for the summer?" her mother asked.
"I…"
They hadn't discussed it.
Hermione shook it off. "Of course."