"Professor Snape?"
Professor Snape looked up at her from his place at his desk in his office. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his marking, but it wasn't sharp enough to be a rebuke, so Hermione entered his office and closed the door behind her.
Snape continued to ignore her, but Hermione was content to look around the room, swinging her legs. She peered at the essay Snape was slashing red ink all over – about antidotes of some sort? It was hard to read the handwriting upside-down.
"…do you grade all the essays like that?" she asked.
Snape gave her a curt look.
"Are you implying I might favor the Slytherins over other houses to the point of academic dishonesty?" Snape's tone was dark.
"What? No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I mean, I've never gotten an essay back from you with that many comments all over it. I wondered if it's only something you do with the older years."
Snape continued writing, but Hermione could see his shoulders ease. "In that case, Miss Granger, the answer is 'no', but for reasons other than the ones you presume." With a flourish, he finished grading and set his quill down, his eyes meeting hers, glinting. "I grade bad essays in such a manner."
"Oh." Hermione nibbled her lip. "So… if there aren't many mistakes…"
"You have few remarks on your essays, Miss Granger, because yours are well-reasoned, well-constructed, and don't have grammatical or spelling errors," Snape said dryly. "Comments on your essays are often notes for things for you to consider next time – not something your essay was lacking, necessarily, but something additional on the topic you might want to incorporate in the future. In case you were in need of further references for footnotes in the future."
Hermione colored. Snape smirked.
"Your classmates, however, did not graduate from whatever essay-writing program you did, and they do not read and cite half of the library to complete their homework. They get corrections marked, and comments that are more critical than constructive." Snape looked at the remaining stack of essays he had on his desk, before pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "However, I doubt you came here to ask questions about my grading – you've been doing well in my class."
Hermione nodded. "I- ah- I wanted to ask you a potentially sensitive question."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Hermione hesitated. "I tried to look this up, but I couldn't find anything firm, and I wondered if this is one of those things that's just unstated and understood in the wizarding world, that I didn't know-"
"Miss Granger, cease your needless prattling and disclaimers," Snape said, sitting back in his chair. "I will answer your question. What is it?"
Hermione bit her lip, hesitating.
"What is Dark magic?"
Snape froze. Hermione swallowed.
"I will answer your question," Snape said finally. "But first – why are you asking this question?"
Hermione nodded slowly. That seemed reasonable.
"A lot of books talk about how the Dark Arts are seductive and can tempt people into sinking further and further into the Dark without realizing it," Hermione said. "I can't find any formal definition of what a 'Dark Art' is, though. And if Dark Arts are seductive and tempting, how will I know what I'm supposed to avoid if I can't recognize it on sight?" She glanced up at Snape, but his face was stony, unmoving. "I mean, I can mostly look at something and think 'That's a bad thing to do; I shouldn't do that', but I don't know if there's anything more to it, and at this point, unless I get a book called Introduction to the Dark Arts or some other such reference from the library, I don't think I'm going to be able to find a formal definition-"
Snape held up a hand, and Hermione stopped rambling. He looked at her for a long moment, before he sighed.
"Of course you would want a formal definition," he said. His voice was tired. "Just 'stay away from the Dark Arts' wouldn't be enough for you."
"How can I stay away from it if I don't know what it is?" Hermione reasoned.
"Enough, Miss Granger." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will tell you."
Hermione carefully hid any reaction to his concession. It wouldn't do for him to see her happy at successfully convincing him to talk to her about the Dark Arts.
Snape sat up and folded his hands in front of him on his desk. His eyes glittered.
"Are you looking for the Ministry-defined definition of what the Dark Arts are," he asked, "or what they actually are?"
Hermione swallowed.
"Umm… both?"
Snape's eyes glinted, as if he'd expected her answer. "Indeed."
He stood abruptly, lifting his wand and waving it at a set of his shelves. Hermione watched in surprise as the shelves moved, shifting in front of another set, revealing a chalk board. Snape smirked at her surprise, and Hermione saw him mentally settle into lecture mode.
"There are two popular definitions of what defines the Dark Arts circulating in the public and at the Ministry," Snape said. "The first is: the Dark Arts are magic that hurts someone or that requires something other than just the caster."
The chalk scribbled across the chalkboard, and Hermione watched.
"That's…" Hermione bit her lip. "But that's wrong."
Snape's eyes glinted. "Tell me why."
"A tripping jinx can hurt someone, but I don't think it counts as a Dark Art," Hermione said. "Same with cutting curses. And… summoning things like elementals isn't Dark, it's Grey. You taught me that."
Snape nodded. "Precisely so. Which brings us to the current legal definition."
He waved at the board, and Hermione read as the next definition scrawled itself across the board.
The Dark Arts refers to any type of magic that is mainly used to cause harm to, exert control over, or even kill the victim.
Hermione looked at this definition, then to Snape, then back to the board.
"Does this definition meet with your satisfaction, Miss Granger?" he asked silkily.
Hermione tried not to fidget.
"…no, not really," she said finally. "Unless Cutting Curses and Stunning Spells are Dark Arts?"
His eyes gleamed.
"Do you think they are?"
Hermione considered.
"I think they could be, if that's truly what people mean by Dark Arts," Hermione said. "Forcing your will on another person by rendering them unconscious… I can imagine that being considered Dark. But I've read that the Stunning Spell is one of the primary spells Aurors use in defense, so… I think even if it's technically Dark, it can't really be Dark."
Snape nodded slowly, and Hermione let go of a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"You see the difficulty here," he said, waving at the board. "The truth is the Dark Arts are an ever-changing, ever mutable craft. Legal definitions cannot keep up and spell out every variation as it develops." He waved his wand, and the board cleared itself, the bookshelf sliding back into place.
"Ever-changing?" Hermione had a flash of horror, imagining some giant, dark entity secretly corrupting the world. "Are… are they alive?"
"In a fashion." Snape returned to his desk and sat down. "The Dark Arts are alive, Miss Granger, in the sense that people are alive."
Hermione tried to turn that over in her mind.
"The Dark Arts is a term created to explain the corruption of the soul when a person uses certain types of magic," Snape said, his voice soft. "When a person casts a spell to overcome another person, another's will, there is a flash of satisfaction, a dark sense of a flash of power. But it depends entirely on the intent of the person using the magic."
Hermione blinked. "It depends on the intent?"
"It does." Snape sat back in his chair. "Imagine: you are in Defense your O.W.L. year, and there is a practical exercise to practice Stunning Charms on each other. Do you participate?"
"Of course." Hermione couldn't imagine herself not participating in an exercise in class.
"Now: imagine a hated enemy standing atop a set of stairs, with no one else around. Would you cast a Stunning Charm now?"
"No!" Hermione gasped. "They could get a concussion and get really hurt!"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And you are so opposed to hurting people?" His tone was slightly mocking.
Hermione flushed and looked away. Snape smirked and continued.
"The intent behind the use of the spell is what matters," he said. "If you were to use the Stunning Spell in such a situation, you would discover a dark flash of satisfaction, at seeing your enemy topple, at feeling your power overcome another person. It would feel very different to you than casting the same charm in class would have felt."
"This is the danger of the Dark Arts," Snape said, his black eyes holding hers. "They differ for each person. There are the obvious culprits that are nigh universal – the torture curse, the killing curse, things such as blood-boiling curses – but there are more subtle ones as well. The girl who finds it easy to cast a cutting curse at her classmate as a first year may find it easier to cast another curse, a crueler curse the next year. The memory of the dark whisper of power she felt at casting the first will tempt her to casting another, and another, and another."
Hermione's eyes were wide with horror. "So… I've…?"
"Have you?" Snape questioned, with a shrug. "Have you felt that whisper of power, tempting you? Some of your classmates have – Pansy, certainly. Young Draco and Theo as well, I daresay. It is not unusual. But the whispers of power from childish hexes and jinxes are much less than the rush of power from casting something like the Imperius curse, and less dark and tempting as a result."
Hermione wracked her brain.
"I… I cast a Bad Luck hex on Pansy," Hermione admitted. "I… think that's the closest I've come? I didn't feel a dark rush of anything, though… after my plan worked, I just felt a dark sense of satisfaction. Is that the same thing?"
"It is not, but it might be close," Snape said. "You were motivated by justified revenge, in your mind. As I said, intent and motive is everything. If you had done such a thing unprompted, I suspect you would have had a different experience with the entire thing."
She wouldn't have done it unprompted, Hermione thought furiously. But… maybe that was the point. If Dark roughly equaled "bad", and she didn't do bad things…
"The best way to avoid temptation into the Dark Arts is to ask yourself a few key questions when you find yourself wondering." Snape's eyes glittered in the dim light. "First: why are you doing this thing? Second: what effects does this thing have on others? And third: if there are effects on others, do you have their consent to do such a thing?"
Hermione gnawed on her lip. "So… something like, say… doing a ritual to gain more magical power wouldn't be Dark? So long as it didn't hurt anyone else?"
Snape's eyes sharpened.
"Miss Granger, I begin to grow alarmed at your quest for power at so young an age."
"I just want to grow up to be the best," Hermione objected vehemently. "If you want to be the best violinist, you practice 10,000 hours before age sixteen. If you want to be the best football player, you practice and practice and make sure you're strong and in great shape before you're old enough to play professionally. If I want to be the best witch around, why is it so absurd I'd be working toward that goal now?"
Snape's lips twisted.
"And what, exactly, do you imagine the position of 'Best Witch' looks like?"
Hermione hesitated.
"I- what?"
"Once you graduate Hogwarts, as the most powerful witch in Britain," Snape said, his eyes glittering. "What do you imagine doing with that particular accolade?"
"I-"
"Do you imagine there is a career path of "Best Witch" out there for you? Or that the Minister of Magic is chosen based on raw magical power?"
"No!" Hermione could feel her face flushing. "I just-"
"You just what, Miss Granger?" Snape drawled.
Hermione drew herself up.
"I want to establish my own Great House," she said firmly.
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"And you think great personal power will help you with this goal?"
"It has to," Hermione insisted. "If… If I am very powerful, and people believe that Magic itself touched me, and acknowledge me as New Blood, and if I can assemble a large enough fortune and get a stronghold of some sort…"
Snape laughed, a dark sort of amusement. Hermione shivered.
"You don't just want your place in magical society," he surmised. "You want your place in History."
Hermione bit her lip, but she held her chin high.
"And if I do?" she said, managing to keep a waver out of her tone.
Snape looked down on her for a long moment, before his eyes softened slightly, and the smallest smile touched his lips.
"Then I have much less to worry about you than I feared," he told her.
Hermione blinked. "You do?"
"Miss Granger, the last person to be so determined to accumulate mass amounts of raw power was the Dark Lord himself," Snape told her, settling back in his chair. "He respected power above all else, and the desire and ambition for more of it. He tempted people to join him with promises of learning forgotten magics and forbidden powers. To see another person, so determinedly trying to become very powerful… there were certain similarities even I could not deny."
Hermione's mouth was dry. She couldn't even think to object.
"I- another Dark Lord?" she croaked.
"Dark Lady, but yes, the potential was there," Snape said. "Is there. A small chance, I considered, given your friendship with students in other houses, but a chance nonetheless. Knowing you are merely a perfectionist and want to maximize the gain you get from Hogwarts while you are here simply because that is who you are… I am much less concerned now, I find."
"I can't believe you thought I might grow up to be a Dark Lady," Hermione repeated, moaning. "Do I seem so evil?"
Snape smirked.
"Slytherin is the house of the ambitious, Miss Granger; I watch all my snakes for signs of what they are ambitious for," he told her. "Young Malfoy wants to restore his family name and have a dynasty of power over magical Britain. Miss Parkinson wants nothing more than to become a society wife who moves and gossips in the circles of the powerful. Crabbe and Goyle just want to attach themselves to someone else powerful – they want to be powerful but are savvy enough to know that they'll never get there themselves, and they need someone else to tell them what to do. Most of your classmates only have vague goals at this point, and their ambitions will firm up as they grow up."
Hermione stared at him.
"So… what's my ambition, then?" she asked.
Snape gave her a look.
"You want to become all you can be," he said simply. "Right now, you envision that as meaning establishing your own Great House, but once you achieve that, I suspect you will find yourself not satisfied and wanting to do something more. Your goal, Miss Granger, is to reach your full potential, simply because you can."
Hermione looked at him, but Snape's face was impassive. There was no judgement on his face, no condemnation in his eyes for her being a perfectionist, no snide remarks about her being power-hungry, no further concern about her turning Dark.
"Do you think I can do it, sir?"
Snape's eyes glittered.
"Can do it, perhaps. Will you do it?" he said. He raised an eyebrow, and gave her a mocking shrug of his shoulders. "That remains to be seen."
"But you think it's possible?" Hermione repeated, her heart lifting. "You think it's possible? For me to found a Great House?"
Snape gave her an exasperated look.
"Are you so bereft of praise that you must plead with me for it?" he demanded. "Yes, Miss Granger. If you continue on the path you have been on, you very well might change the entire Wizarding World. Is that what you so desperately needed to hear?"
His caustic words bounced right off of her, and Hermione realized she was smiling, part of herself feeling somehow reassured.
"But not if you continue to linger in my office and inhibit me doing my marking," Snape said curtly. "Then your body will be found drained in the dungeons under the lake, your blood the main component of my new ink."
Though his dismissal was a dramatic and particularly gory threat, Hermione found herself laughing as she left his office, closing the door behind her.