AN: Life has been very busy. Thank you to everyone who continues to read. :)
Chapter 24: Nuntium
On the first morning of the Easter holidays, Crookshanks dropped a note onto Hermione's chest the moment she awoke.
"Thanks, Crooks," she mumbled groggily, rubbing an eye with one first and unfurling the parchment with the other. She peered at the writing, then sat up so suddenly, Crookshanks half fell, half slid across the covers with a yowl.
"Sorry," she murmured absently, still staring at the parchment.
Update requested immediately upon reception.
"What does that mean?" she asked her cat, who only blinked warily at her in a "I'm just the messenger" sort of way. Shaking her head, she heaved her satchel up from the floor and rummaged around inside for a quill. "'Immediately.'" She scoffed. "Would be a lot more immediate if I knew what exactly it was you're talking about."
She inked her quill and wrote a reply below his line.
Clarification requested immediately upon reception.
She rolled up the scroll and sealed it shut with her wand. She waved it in front of Crookshanks's nose.
"If you bring this back to him now, I'll see if the elves can fix up some leftover fish from last night."
The cat obediently took the note from her hand into his mouth and hopped off the bed. Hermione smiled at the cat, but shook her head as she began collecting her clothes. Impossible man…
Upon finishing her shower, Hermione returned to her bed, hair wrapped in a towel, to find Crookshanks sitting on her pillow, a note at his feet.
"Well, he's nothing if not prompt," she muttered to herself, picking up the note.
What do you think? An update on that imbecile who you, for reasons unfathomable, call a friend. Respond upon reception.
Her brows rose on her head, and she felt the towel wrapped around her hair shift precariously. She tossed the note onto the bed and unraveled the towel. Only several minutes later, after drying, brushing, and braiding her hair, did she pick up her quill.
Dear Sir,
Seeing as it's 7 in the morning on the first day of the holiday, the imbecile, as you so pleasantly put it, is, I suspect, asleep. On future intel-gathering missions, please note the time of day and recall that not everyone is satisfied with three hours' rest each evening.
Regards,
H
"Leftover fish and a pumpkin pasty," Hermione said, waggling the note in the air.
Crookshanks's tail twitched.
Half an hour later, she had secured such a plate from the elves, ears burning with quiet indignation at their continued servitude, when Hermione felt warm fur winding around her legs.
"Crooks, there you–oh, not another one!"
The elves nearby paused in their meal preparations to glance over at her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Would you mind if I just…?"
She set the plate down. Crookshanks immediately abandoned the note for the haddock, and Hermione sat at the nearest table. A few minutes later, she had a half-drunk cup of tea, a small plate of biscuits, and a finished note before her. Professor Snape had written:
Dear sarcastic swot,
Please note that your agreement to provide information in exchange for training and family protection is severely in the red. I am not asking for the last time he blew his nose. Provide worthwhile information to ensure the continuation of our agreement.
Regards,
S
She shook her head. Dangling her parents' safety above her head to see how high she would jump was rude, manipulative, and so Slytherin she felt she should have predicted it. After Monday night, she had thought that Snape's ire was softening. He had come all the way up to the seventh floor to ascertain her and the others' safety, hadn't he?
"Impossible man," she grumbled aloud.
Beneath his own, she squeezed her message, filling the last remaining space on the parchment.
Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge,
Thank you for reminding me of how greatly in your debt I am. Though I can't say it's very noble. His friends can't meet, his leader's gone, and now she's in charge. He's peachy. But why are you asking me? You know all this.
H
She rolled the parchment, sealed it, then took a small bite of a biscuit. Crookshanks meowed at her feet. His plate was clean, and he peered up at her inquisitively.
"Thanks, Crooks, but it can wait…oh…half an hour?"
If the elves were concerned about the crooked smile on her face, they kept their opinions to themselves as she leisurely enjoyed the remainder of her tea.
If Hermione thought the notes would stop there, she was seriously mistaken. Once she had finished mapping out the chart lines for her study time table, Crookshanks reappeared.
Atticus,
If you're so concerned with justice, you should know you're meant to give what is due. Clearly I am asking you for other information. Stop being obtuse.
S
So. He was familiar with Muggle literature. Let's see how far down the rabbit hole goes, she thought.
Boo Radley (truly fitting),
Clearly I don't know what you mean. We are both aware of events, and of the fact that Occlumency is not mind-reading. What exactly am I supposed to do that you can't?
H
When she was just finishing lunch, a meal he was conspicuously absent from, she received the next one.
Watson,
I am afraid that most of your conclusions are erroneous. You are his friend, and as such are in his confidence, which is of greater importance both to your ability to know his mind and to keep our agreement intact. Determine the likelihood that recent events set him…on a path of his own.
S
Am I supposed to call you Sherlock?
What–do you think he's going to start attacking the dustbins? He's swamped with classwork and feels lonely. But Ron's with him when I'm not. He isn't going to go running out of the castle to look for Dumbledore or anything.
H
Later, she sat out on the grassy lawn, fingers itching to open her Charms text, despite the fact that she was the one playing lookout for Ron, Harry, and Ginny.
Merlin forbid.
Do not let him leave the castle. That's the last thing we need right now. Keep him busy.
S
You're the one with a whiskey addiction.
He's having a grand old time currently trying to fly on school brooms–how have these not been replaced yet? I'd swear half of them are jinxed–since Umbridge locked his up. Oh, I hate Quidditch. I'm bored out of my skull, so thanks very much for that.
H
After almost an hour, her friends finally gave up the game and they headed back inside. Up in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was putting some final touches on the study schedules when conversation turned to Occlumency. When Harry said he was done with the lessons, Hermione jumped so hard that she blotted ink all over her Tuesday Arithmancy study window. She waved her wand hastily to fix the mistake.
"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons anymore?"*
"I've told you. Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now I've got the basics…"*
Hermione kept up conversation for the next several minutes before making herself calmly ascend the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Once inside, she threw her belongings onto the bed and sat on the floor to compose her next missive.
Dear Sir,
Here I was thinking that just maybe your requests for information were reasonable and that you have Harry's best interests at heart. And I find out that you STOPPED Occlumency lessons? I hope you know what you're doing, because when Harry told me his dreams have pretty much stopped, he wasn't too convincing.
She had just folded the parchment into a tiny square when Crookshanks, looking more bedraggled than usual, hopped onto her bed with a quiet meow.
"There you are," she said. "This is the last one, Crooks. And then you have my permission to ignore any future note he tries to send my way."
She was still sat on the floor, so she and the cat were face-to-face, the note held aloft between them. Crookshanks gave her a calculating look with his yellow eyes. If cats could sigh, he did, spitting out the note in his own mouth and snatching hers. As he hopped off the bed, she got a face full of his bottlebrush tail. She watched him saunter haughtily out the door. Lavender and Parvati caught it before it could shut behind them as they entered.
"–so knowledgeable, too," Lavender was saying.
"Agreed," Parvati said. "And it doesn't mean we haven't learned loads from Trelawney…"
"Of course not!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and picked herself and the note from up off the floor. She had been too impatient to read it before sending off her new note with Crookshanks. If he wanted a response, she supposed he was just going to have to put up with not receiving one. She sat down on her bed and unfolded it.
Luckily, Ophelia, there's a sizeable lake nearby should you require its services.
S
Hermione stared at the note in shock for several moments before crumpling it into a ball in her first with a growl.
"The fool doth think he is wise…" she grumbled.
"Something wrong, Hermione?" Parvati asked from her trunk, where she had begun rooting around for her pajamas.
"Nope," Hermione said with false cheer. She closed the curtains around herself. "Everything's fine!"
Throughout the week, kinder missives arrived.
Darling,
Of course we understand, and if you weren't already staying at school, we'd insist upon it. We know how important these exams are. Though your father is upset you won't be able to run some race with him. Ah, he tells me it's the 32nd annual community 5k, and I'm told it's very serious business. He says he'll settle for the Summer do, and would you like him to sign you up now?
We trust that you're preparing well and keeping your friends in line. Lots of love to you, Ron, and Harry.
Mum
She had made a quick reply, saying yes to her father's request. That, at least, would ensure that she begin training again now that she could reliably count on it not to snow.
A few day later, another letter arrived, its page scalloped at the edges. A snowdrop was pressed between the folds.
Dear Hermione,
You are not the first person who is misjudging me. I do appreciate your apology. Please, consider the past forgotten. My sincere belief is that, as someone put it last June, our ties are more important than ever; my sincere wish is that we may be friends going forward.
Hermione started. It had been Professor Dumbledore who had remarked on their ties of friendship during the closing feast as he remembered Cedric. If Fleur had remembered those words, surely she had remembered who had said them. So…word about all the mail being searched had gotten out.
She picked up the envelope and examined it. There was no sign of any tampering, but surely Umbridge knew how to magically reseal mail. She made a mental note to practice extra vigilance in her outgoing correspondence. She returned to the letter.
To your inquiry, the answer is no. A gift once given is no longer one's own. I only reiterate my advice.
I look forward to seeing you soon,
Fleur
As Hermione prepared to fold the letter closed, writing appeared below Fleur's name.
The flowers are not merely pretty.
Hermione blinked, then watched as the ink faded. She looked down at the snowdrops, which had fallen in a small pile next to her fork. They gleamed, white and pure and–apparently deceptively–innocent. She made her excuses to Harry and Ron and headed up to the library. Once hidden away in the stacks, she pulled the flowers out of her pocket and leveled her wand at them.
"Finite," she whispered.
Immediately, the flowers transfigured into a letter. Brows high on her forehead, she tucked her wand into the bun at the top of her head and opened the letter.
Hermione,
With Dumbledore gone, I have no guarantee of free movement through the castle and I am advised that it would be foolish to make any attempt to continue our lessons. Keep practicing with Ginny as much as you can, but not outside of your common room–or your dorm if you can manage it. Keep your head down and keep your friends safe. If you need anything, go to McGonagall.
Tonks
The Saturday before Easter, a heavier letter arrived. When she unfolded the parchment, a thick scarlet card fell out as well.
Hermione,
I am just receiving our invitation, and I send it on to you. Please reply soon if you are able to attend.
Viktor
Hermione dropped Viktor's note and seized the scarlet card. It was covered in ivory flourishes, and sparks of bronze danced across the page as she read the fine script.
Together with their families, Alexei and Nadia request the honour of your presence…
She ran her fingertip down the thick paper, feeling the grooves as the texture of it changed. The details about location and time went hazy as her gaze blurred. A wedding invitation. It was such a simple thing, and she had known it was coming, but it seemed like an event for another time, another world. Here she was stuck with Umbridge and her thirty educational decrees; elsewhere, there were people who were excited and in love, who looked toward the future with delight.
Had she been so excited this year? Last year? She looked around at the Great Hall. All fifth and seventh years had stayed behind, a few from the other years. The entire Weasley clan was yawning into their porridge, as the boys had appeared to buckle down during the study time and Ginny was intent on practicing more than ever with unrestricted field time. All in all, the mood at breakfast was mild if not solemn.
The fact that Umbridge sat in Dumbledore's seat at the high table may have had something to do with it. At holidays, the teachers' presence was required less, yet most of the faculty were in attendance for the meal. Professor Vector was stirring her tea and staring into it intently, Professor McGonagall was sitting rigidly beside Umbridge, and Sprout and Flitwick were conversing quietly at the other end of the table over their eggs. Absent were Snape, Hagrid, and Trelawney–whom Hermione heard was taking all of her meals, which mostly consisted of tea and brandy, in her tower.
Before anyone could catch her eye, Hermione shoved both the letter and the invitation into her bag.
Now that lessons with both Snape and Tonks had been canceled indefinitely, Hermione found herself with a surprising amount of free time. This time quickly became absorbed by revision, as the weight of O.W.L.s hung over all the fifth years like a guillotine. At Tonks's prompting, she and Ginny practiced self-defense in her dorm when Lavender and Parvati went to ask Firenze questions about Divination one afternoon…and again the next when, guilt-ridden, the duo went to visit Trelawney.
Hermione was sure to find herself in Ron's and especially Harry's company as often as possible. At first, her hyper-analysis of their movements made her feel like a babysitter. But in time, her routine settled once more and she fell into the comfortable routine of friendship. If they noticed anything different, they chalked it up to her anxiety over the coming exams.
Of course, keeping close to Harry didn't mean he lost all ability to throw himself into poorly schemed and risky endeavors. The first Monday after the Easter holidays, he ignored her every protest and snuck into Umbridge's office to Floo call Sirius. Her heart had been in her throat all morning as she anticipated the many ways the plan could fail. She looked on at Fred and George's chaotic diversion, her knees quaking so hard that Ron had to elbow her in the side and mutter, "Act natural" to her. As if there was anything natural about a swamp erupting into existence in a Scottish castle. Once Harry was safely ensconced in the common room, she had turned right around and headed to the Prefects' Bath, not returning until she smelled like the bottle of her mother's lavender perfume which she had accidentally shattered when she was four.
She had her career advice meeting with McGonagall two days later. A quick glance around the office proved that Umbridge was not insisting on attending all career meetings. Despite the fact that breakfast had just finished, McGonagall fixed them both a cup of tea once she had sat down.
"Well then, Miss Granger," the woman said, stirring milk into her cup. "I am sure you have given plenty of thought to life after Hogwarts. Are there any professions which appeal particularly to you?"
"No. Yes. I mean…." She took a sip of her own tea and tried again. "I have given a lot of thought to the topic, only…"
McGonagall's thin eyebrows narrowed with attention. "Yes…?"
Hermione frowned. "There are many jobs which sound nice, but at the same time…"
"You are well-positioned to go into a variety of fields," McGonagall assured her. She flipped open a file on her desk to reveal a stack of forms, the topmost one of which Hermione recognized as a record of her marks. "Excellent scores in all of your classes. Professor Flitwick sings your praises in the staff room regularly, and Professor Vector says you're a natural at Arithmancy."
"That's very kind," Hermione said.
"It's honest," McGonagall disagreed shortly. She closed the file. "But let's ignore your classes for the time being. What are you really interested in?"
"Everything," she said. And where once the word would have been pronounced with zeal, now, sitting in what felt like a formal interview she hadn't at all been prepared for, the word was overwhelming. "I feel interested in everything. I don't really know what the right choice is."
"You assume there is only one right choice?" Her Head of House smiled thinly. "Perhaps it is easier to think of what you don't wish to do."
"Banking," Hermione said immediately, recalling her conversation with Harry and Ron. Curse-breaking sounded interesting, but working underground or helping people with such a minor, menial task sounded mind-numbing. For the same reason, she added, "I also have no interest in tending to magical creatures. Or…" She watched motes float through the Spring sunlight filtering in through the window. "I'd like Muggle-Wizarding relations to improve, but I don't think I want to work with Muggles."
"Perhaps something in the Department of International Magical Cooperation? You got along well with our visitors last year if I recall." Hermione bobbed her head, tossing the idea back and forth. "Hmm… it is by invitation to apply only, but possibly the Department of Mysteries?"
Hermione looked up from her tea, interest piqued. "The Department of Mysteries, Professor?"
If she spoke more quickly than usual, McGonagall didn't comment upon it.
"Despite its name, some aspects of the Department are common knowledge. Those who are appointed to the Department are highly intelligent, creative, and organized individuals. They must possess a strong desire to learn. They deal with some of the most fundamental questions of both Muggle and Wizarding life. But if incredibly secret work is too demanding, there are other kinds of research you could do. You could get a mastery…"
McGonagall sent Hermione away from her office laden with leaflets and more questions than she'd had when she entered.