Chapter IV: Change and Exchange
It took Hermione one week to figure out that trying to make sense of the book was an endeavour doomed to failure. It took her another one to figure out that Potter was more entertained knowing she struggles without result, that he would if she admitted defeat, and asked his aid. It pained her to give up, to lose, even if it was no contest. She didn't want to prove herself lesser. But eventually she figured that her goal was to make a spell, not to translate a book. Potter probably learned Latin before he even began messing with spells, and she didn't have the time to engage in such. She was Prefect, she had to do her homework, she had to study for the OWLS. She'd have to become a polyglot some other time. For now, it didn't fit her schedule. Neither did palaeography, which her encyclopaedia defined as the study of ancient and medieval handwriting, and which seemed an equal, if not greater, expense of time.
And so she relented, and not without a degree of distress, she resolved to ask for help. So, after another potion class, she once again ambushed him in the hall, to return his book and ask for assistance. As she was following him outside the classroom, Potter observed her and slowed his pace, allowing her to make the request.
It was to her great admonishment, and anger, that Potter quickly produced from his book bag a sheaf of papers, neatly typed out – with all words and their purported etymology written down, and helpful hints of possible use in incantations added. He could have offered her the notes the first time he offered his help.
"You've had these the whole time, yet you've gone to the whole trouble of needling me so?" asked Hermione, quite tempted to curse him to belch snails. Or turn him into a snail. As each second passed, the latter fate seemed even more appealing. Potter would look good as a snail – perhaps learn a lesson in being agreeable.
Potter was being his usual smug self, answering her without a care in the world: "I could have. But half the point of learning is the work you put into it. Do you allow Weasley to copy your essays, Granger?"
"No, but I fail to see the relevance to our current discussion." she interrupted him, wondering what the point of that was.
"I presume you make him do some work before you deign to help him. Am I wrong?" retorted Potter.
"Yes, but again – I fail to see how that is relevant. You are just beating around the bush. Make a point, before I lose my patience." she replied, her nails digging in the flesh of her palms. By Merlin, the boy knew how to make himself disagreeable.
"I have let you do the work, and in exchange for you proving yourself hardworking, I have now provided you with the reward of the notes. Isn't that just the same thing?" the young wizard explained, one eyebrow raised in challenge and defiance.
"Well… it's not really entirely similar…uh.. the situation with Ronald is different…" tried to answer Hermione, a bit gobsmacked. It couldn't be the same thing: Ron was lazy and needed to be pushed. It was only after endless complaints she agreed to look over his work, to make sure he didn't write something utterly wrong and momentously stupid.
"I didn't mean to challenge your competence, or work ethic, Granger. I'm just saying that just because you're brighter than most, there's no reason to face a little humility." Potter explained again, his face showing some measure of displeasure at her failing to see his point.
"That's just excuses and you know it Potter" answered the witch, incensed at his attitude. "You're just amusing yourself at other's people expense. If that is so, who's humbling you?"
Potter waited a moment before replying, as if he was pondering something. Then he answered: "I've got plenty of people – and none that you need to know of. And haven't you forgotten something, Miss Granger?"
The sudden addition of the honorific irked Hermione even more. He couldn't sound more like some strict, self-righteous professor if he tried. And he wasn't one, so she didn't appreciate his tone of superiority. So she opened her mouth, and out came a curt and abrupt "What?"
"Gratitude, thankfulness, appreciation. Need I go on?" said Potter. She realised that she looked like an ungrateful witch, demanding something he was in no way obliged to give.
"Sorry" mumbled Hermione quietly. "And thank you" she said, with a louder and cleared voice.
"Well then, good day to you…Miss Granger!" said Potter, and turned to go.
"Just wait a minute. I am not done with you" replied Hermione.
Potter turned again and threw a strange look towards her. She felt a sudden sense of shame. After all, Potter had helped her, even if he was uttermost vexing. Whatever strong words she had left were abandoned, and to save face, she quickly threw a question at him:
"The notes. They're typed. How did you do that?"
"Ah" exclaimed Potter, as if suddenly enlightened to her purpose. "Protean charm. They're more versatile than you know. I've enchanted a typewriter, linked it with a modified Protean charm to a parchment, and it transfers my writing to the typewriter, and I've got my handwritten notes and the typed one. Makes things neater."
Hermione was suddenly enthused: "I haven't ever thought of that. So it's a bit more complex than a normal one? So instead of a linked transformation, you've added an intermediary step that necessitates a physical action to transmit the end point of the spell unto a second piece of paper? The typewriter being the instrument of the spell?"
"That would be more or less correct"
"You found that somewhere, or you modified it yourself?"
"Why do you ask, Miss Granger?" said Potter." You want that too? Yes, it's one of the modifications I've done to the spell" With that, Potter rummaged again in his bookbag, took out one of his many worn notebooks, flipped through the pages, ripped one and handed it to her."
Hermione was not happy that the boy was still trying to vex her by calling her Miss Granger, but she minded her manners without need of a reminder, and she thanked him. Yet she was still curious: "You said one of them. How versatile could that charm even be?"
"Oh, it can be quite versatile, if you think beyond the usual approaches. But I can't tell you that – it's proprietary information."
"What do you mean by that? You can't just claim a spell as just your property!"
"Well, technically I can, and I will – I am a Potter, we are not academics, we are inventors and businessmen. Ministry law and regulations protect spells developed and modified for enchanting innovative artefacts for artisanal or manufactural production. And I've got a couple of ideas up my sleeve that can put a lot of Galleons in my pockets. So, excuse me if I don't want those ideas bandied about so everyone could figure it out."
That cleared the mystery of the boy a bit further, Hermione thought. Slytherins were supposed to be ambitious, but except for being the best wizard of their generation – a fact that could be attributed to natural brilliance instead of ambition, Potter did not show any overt goals or sought any recognition. He didn't play Quidditch, but she now knew that was not for lack of trying, but he had burned his bridges. He couldn't care less for House points, or prestige among his peers.
But that just meant that his ambitions reached beyond the walls of Hogwarts. It was responsible of him and admirable to think so far – in time and place, and Hermione Granger was suddenly reminded that OWL year presumed careers advice, and she hadn't given serious thought to what she'd do with the rest of her life. It was only in April, but that meant that she'd need to prepare, to investigate every possible career path, so she'd be ready to meet with Professor McGonagall when the time came. Thus, anticipately alarmed, she set up to go to the Library to begin on it. She couldn't be content with things were now, in her school years, for change was coming, and would not wait for her to catch up.
