It was incredibly weird, for Hermione, to go about day by day with Dark magic brewing in the back of her brain while everyone else in the castle was growing lighter and happier by the day. The energy in the halls was bright and catching as the holidays grew closer and closer, and the teachers seemed to be relaxing as well, or perhaps they'd just resigned themselves to their students' distractibility. Even the Great Hall seemed ready for the holiday, light snowflakes falling from the ceiling in the morning light, drifting down to vanish before hitting the students below.
Fred and George seemed to have taken this relaxed attitude as a sign, and they took great delight in showing off one of their more recent inventions – Vanishing snowballs.
"You hit your target," Fred said, showing Hermione what seemed to be a perfectly normal snowball. "But right after you hit them, it Vanishes within three seconds, like it was never there at all."
He stepped out from his hiding place and threw the snowball at a Hufflepuff prefect who was passing by, hitting him in the back of the head just as he ducked back into the alcove. Hermione watched as the Hufflepuff whirled around, feeling the back of his neck, only to look at his hand in confusion, turning and searching around curiously, before shrugging and heading off.
"That's brilliant," Hermione told him honestly, and Fred grinned.
"George is setting up an automated version," he told her, proud. "Anytime Dumbledore enters the Great Hall or stands up in the Hall, one of the snowballs will be lobbed at him from the ceiling."
"Really?" Hermione was astonished. "You guys have the power to change the charm on the Great Hall?"
"Oh, no no no," Fred said hastily. "No, sorry. Didn't mean to make it sound like that. No, we're doing a link charm on a few of the candles and a pit of pre-made snowballs we've stored and hidden outside. It'll look like the ceiling is throwing them, but not really – I wouldn't dare mess with charmwork like that."
Hermione had to admit that she took great satisfaction in seeing Dumbledore get hit with snowballs several times a day. He'd at first seemed surprised, then annoyed, then resigned, and Hermione was incredulous that he didn't seem to care enough to bother investigating and disabling the charm targeting him. He was Albus Dumbledore – it couldn't have been more than five minutes' work for him, but he let the snowball curse stay, even until when it eventually began to falter before it disappeared, leaving Hermione to wonder if the magic had worn off, or if the enchanted candles had burned down and been swapped out.
Meanwhile, coming across Gryffindor students having half-invisible snowball fights in the corridors became a regular occurrence, as Fred and George's spell spread amongst the twins' friends. Hermione got good at wandlessly raising a shield quickly, making the snowballs hit a red dome of magic and dissipate into the air. She found herself hoping that more people would start throwing the snowballs – if she could get it so she could instinctively raise a shield without even thinking about it or needing to say the incantation, it would be a huge boon if she were ever in a real fight.
The cheerful atmosphere in the hallways helped counteract Hermione's own dark demeanor. She was continuing to work on her revenge ritual for Cassius Warrington in her free time, asking Viktor for his thoughts and input regularly. Viktor was helpful, having a wide range of theoretical knowledge of the Dark Arts, and though he didn't know much about ritual circles, he did know the order of spells and sacrifices, as well as what type of sacrifices were necessary.
"I want you to cast protective ritual before you cast this," Viktor told her seriously. "You cannot to risk ritual going wrong and backlash hitting you."
It was an incredibly valid point, and Hermione readily agreed.
Viktor and Hermione took to sneaking off after classes for an hour before dinner, working on crafting a stone ritual circle. She'd pulled enough stone from the ground ahead of time to make a large disc of rock, roughly 9 feet in diameter, and Viktor helped her turn it into what she needed. He painstakingly drew out runes and paths with chalk, and Hermione traced them with her finger afterwards, manipulating the stone beneath her hand to carve them smoothly into being.
It was slow going, with frequent stops for discussion and cross-referencing, but it was worth it, they both thought – with what was at stake, it was far better to be too careful here than not careful enough.
The Elixir of Life was also coming along steadily, and Hermione took the regular check-ups on the alchemy process as an opportunity to escape the mental weight and responsibilities of everything to do with school, just enjoying resting her head on Fleur's thighs instead, Fleur lightly playing with her hair.
"Would you ever cast Dark magic?" she asked Fleur one day, and Fleur's hand paused in her hair.
"That depends on what you mean by Dark magic," Fleur said, her fingers resuming running through Hermione's hair. "Your Ministry might define it differently than my own."
"The British Ministry of Magic defines the Dark Arts as any type of magic that is mainly used to cause harm to, exert control over, or even kill the victim," Hermione recited dutifully.
"That…" Fleur sighed. "That is a very basic understanding of a very nuanced subject."
"That's the Ministry of Magic for you," Hermione said. She rolled over in Fleur's lap so she could look up at her. "I mean, I know it's more than that – it's really about the intent behind the spell that makes it Dark, that makes it corrupt the soul – but it's not really taught here at Hogwarts at all."
"Good," Fleur said, emphatically.
"Would you ever use the Dark Arts?" Hermione repeated, and Fleur hesitated.
"I would like to say no," Fleur said thoughtfully. "I would like to think I am the type of person who would never fall to such depths. But at the same time, I know it is not true." A dark expression flitted over her face, and she looked down at Hermione. "I would kill to keep you safe, Hermione. I would murder a score of people if it meant protecting my friends."
"Is that Dark, though?" Hermione asked. "If your intent is to protect?"
"You cannot cast the Killing Curse without it being evil," Fleur said. "That is why it is so difficult – it is difficult to look a person in the eyes and purposefully wipe out their life. But I would do it. I would do it for you."
"I'm not asking you to kill for me," Hermione said worriedly, and Fleur laughed.
"Would you?" Fleur asked Hermione. "Cast Dark magic?"
"I already have," Hermione admitted. "I had good intentions, but… it's like you said. Some spells you can't cast without them being evil at their core."
Fleur tilted her head, assessing this statement and nodding. She looked back at Hermione, her eyes gentling.
"Why do you ask me this, Hermione?" she asked, her voice soft. "What corruption do you plan to take upon your soul?"
The way Fleur phrased it – her soft, understanding tone of voice that held no note of condemnation – something about her manner made Hermione's heart throb, and she found herself telling Fleur all about it, about the entire thing.
Hermione started with Cassius and his attack on Daphne, going into detail without naming his victim, and she watched as Fleur's eyes flashed in fury. She explained her exploration with the boggart to discover her foe's worst fear, and her idea of how to tie his fear to his crime in a twisted, dark ritual of retribution. Fleur nodded thoughtfully as Hermione explained, her eyes still not holding judgement.
When she was done, Hermione looked to Fleur for her feedback, and Fleur looked at Hermione, pensive.
"At Beauxbatons," she began, "we learn a different definition of the Dark Arts. We learn that the Dark Arts are a transgression against nature, an affront to Magic itself."
"An affront to Magic?" Hermione repeated, surprised, and Fleur nodded.
"The Killing Curse is an affront to Magic," she said. "It takes a life, with nothing in return. The life is lost. The Imperius Curse is an affront to Magic – it overrides the will of another being, which is an affront to their humanity and personhood."
"What about Fiendfyre?" Hermione asked, and Fleur paused.
"This is where I am not sure," Fleur confessed. "Anger, hatred… these are not good feelings, I understand, but they are human. I am unsure where the affront to magic lies."
A memory floated up from Hermione's subconscious.
"Maybe it's because it's fire," she said. "Fire destroys potential and leaves nothing but ash. And… Fiendfyre is the worst because it—it can destroy souls."
"Fiendfyre cannot destroy souls," Fleur said flatly.
"No, it can," Hermione told Fleur, biting her lip. "Fiendfyre can destroy horcruxes – those are evil bits of—"
"I know what a horcrux is," Fleur said, astonishing Hermione. "And Fiendfyre can destroy the vessel of the horcrux, but it does not destroy the soul piece itself." She gave Hermione a long look. "A soul can only be destroyed if it is purposefully consumed – by a creature, or by a sacrifice."
"Like the Dementors," Hermione said darkly, and Fleur nodded.
"I was happy to hear of their demise," Fleur said. She looked sideways over at Hermione. "…it was Fiendfyre that was cast, that destroyed them, our paper said."
"Ours said the same thing," Hermione said evenly, but something on her face must have given her away, for Fleur threw her head back and laughed.
"Oh, Hermione!" she cackled. "Using evil magic to defeat evil! Well, some things never change, yes? You are doing the same even now."
"You think so?" Hermione asked, uncertain.
"I know so," Fleur said, nodding firmly. "This man – overriding another's mind to purposefully violate their body – this is an evil act. What you are doing in response…" She hesitated. "It is Dark, but there is a sense of balance, a sense of proportionality to the crime."
"Do you think it's worth tainting my soul over?" Hermione asked, biting her lip. "The Fiendfyre… I find myself wanting to cast it when I don't need to, now, like it's crept into my mind—"
"That is because it is extremely powerful and you know it," Fleur said, her lips twitching upward. "If you learned more very powerful spells, you would be likely to reach for them too."
Hermione blinked, astonished. She'd never considered that angle.
"And as for the taint of your soul…" Fleur tapped her fingertips upon her lips. "By your definition of Dark, yes, this is Dark. But by mine…" Her eyes glowed. "There is something we can do to help negate the affront to Magic, to absolve the debt laid upon your soul."
"There is?" Hermione asked, and Fleur nodded slowly.
"Yes. It would… this magic is not Dark," Fleur told her, choosing her words carefully, "but it is… raw. Unbound."
"What is it?" Hermione asked, and her eyes widened, growing wider and wider as Fleur told her, her cheeks flushing even as she wished she'd brought a quill to write all this down.
