Rating: R for language, imagery, emotional angst, fantasy violence/combat, and adult themes.
Title: Harry Potter and the Black Society
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling as published by, including and not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The use of these characters and settings is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended or should be inferred. Additionally, locations in and around the United Kingdom are used as a basis for "historical reality" or in a purely fictitious manner.
Additional disclaimers may be found in Chapter One, "Circumradiant Dawn".
Spoiler Alert: This fic contains spoilers to Books 1-5. If you haven't read any of the books or have at least seen the films...right, then. Ah, yes, if you should have an H/Hr aversion, please know that this fic is H/Hr. It will be mostly fluff, when there is any, but it is H/Hr, even though you may not initially think so. Yes, I know, there hasn't been much promise of fluff, but I think there has been at least one "squee" moment. Well, now that you've been sufficiently warned about the spoilers and whatnot...
Summary: (It may or may not be considered AU; it does use elements that J.K. Rowling has only given cursory attention to in the novels.)
The Second Wizard War has since begun. After each new conflict, the barriers placed between the Wizarding world and the Muggle world yield just a little more. Forsaken pacts are made fresh and new allies are revealed as the war finally tears not only into the Muggle world, but into the sanctuary of Hogwarts itself. Harry Potter soon realizes that his wish for a life close to ordinary will take him as far away from normal as is magically or humanly possible...
Pairings: Harry/Hermione
Author's Notes: Another nod to RONIN10 for the review of "Number Ninety-Three, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" and my thanks to all of those who have read this far. Again, this is my first piece of Harry Potter fan fiction. My previous still stands, gentle reader: this is a long form piece; meaning, it has been planned and time lined to be novel-length. Therefore it will feel at times that events are moving slowly. Though alluded to in the early chapters, with a smattering of squee moments, the H/Hr ship does not set sail until nearly the end. There are plenty of MacGuffins, red herrings, whatever you would like to call them, sprinkled throughout as well, so if you aren't one to put up with all of that, sadly, this fic mightn't be for you...
That said, let's get into it, shall we?
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HARRY POTTER AND THE BLACK SOCIETY
[] CHAPTER THREE: ADVANCED MUGGLE STUDIES
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"Bloody hell. We've already been through this." He scrunched his nose in a look meant to be distaste.
Hermione signed theatrically and shook her head. "Honestly, Ron, you are given to such drama." Ron rolled his eyes at Harry when she said that. "This is a required class. And you should start setting a better example as a prefect, Ron. It's our last year at Hogwarts. Anyways, your brother supported it, not to mention your father. Wasn't this in his area of expertise at the Ministry?"
Ron shot a glance at her and rolled his eyes again. "He was in the Office of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, not Advanced Muggle Bloody Studies That My Handsome and Daring Son Ron Shall Be Bloody Stuck In." He sighed. "And Perce…is not someone I care to speak about." There was an uncomfortable pause. Then Ron started again on his invective. "Really…Advanced Muggle Bloody Studies. I just don't see the point in it. I mean, we've been through the first Muggle Studies class, as if that really taught us anything, and besides, you've got first hand experience, Hermione, and so does Harry. Don't you, Harry?"
Harry grinned and nodded. "I'll say I've had experience. Ask me anything about Muggles, Ron. Anything at all. I'll wager I could get through this class without studying for a single exam." He winked at an exasperated Hermione.
"If the subject is right wretched Muggles like your aunt and uncle, you will have no problem whatsoever."
At that, Hermione practically stamped her feet in frustration, in part due to Ron's nonchalant attitude and in part to the fact that Harry's aunt was no longer wretched, not in the least. "Honestly, the two of you need to start taking your studies seriously. Advanced Muggle Studies is an important part of the new curriculum as a N.E.W.T. level class. If you don't pay attention you'll be left behind and wind up being a twentieth year student."
"I wouldn't mind that," grinned Harry once more.
Hermione heaved a vehement sigh and shook her head again, her curly hair moving about wildly.
Ron shook his head as well. "What's it going to be about? Advanced Muggle Bloody Studies."
"That is the fifth time you've said 'bloody'," Hermione muttered darkly.
"I don't see any bloody use to bloody Advanced Bloody Muggle Studies," Ron proclaimed, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from sniggering. As much as it annoyed her, it did amuse Harry, on some level, to see Ron wind her up.
But Hermione wasn't quite having it today. "Perhaps, but I am certain you could have used this class prior to our trip to London, Ronald," came her sardonic reply.
Ron's eyes bulged at that and Harry had to swallow down a laugh. "She, ah, has a point, mate," he said weakly.
Ron's eyes bulged again as he threw a nasty glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Hermione snorted and folded her arms in front of her. "Must I really go over everything that happened in that bookshop, Ronald? First there was the theft prevention system…"
"How in the bloody hell was I supposed to know what that was? Flourish and Blotts' doesn't need anything like that. What is it with Muggles? Besides, it's not my fault that the thing decided to…go off."
"That's as maybe, Ronald, but you didn't have to try to hex it!"
"I didn't try! If I had tried, it would have turned into a goat." He pouted and Harry nearly had to eat his necktie to keep from laughing.
Hermione snorted again. "A goat. And whatever made you think of that? You might be seventeen, Ronald, but that doesn't mean you can go around transfiguring anything that startles you." Ron grumbled at this. Hermione took it as a sign to proceed and continued. "Then there was the matter of the books themselves."
Harry practically had to shove the sleeve of his robe into his mouth to remain quiet. The memory alone was enough to set him to giggles; now, Hermione was threatening to relive the experience of Ronald Bilius Weasley in a London Muggle bookshop.
"What did I do wrong with the books?" Ron sounded quite innocent and confused.
"Oh, I don't know, perhaps it was the complaining, in a voice loud enough for the whole shop to hear, about how the pictures didn't move? Or that the paper was all wrong because it wasn't parchment and the ink wasn't real ink? Or that they weren't covered in leather and didn't smell a hundred years old. Or that centuries' worth of dust or a moth or two didn't fly out when you opened one. Or that the books didn't chase you round the shop? Or that this one would be good for beating Cornish pixies with, or that one would make an excellent quaffle if it were transfigured just right, or why didn't they have anything in the Sporting section about Quidditch? Since when have you been a bibliophile?"
"All right, all right. You don't have to call me names," Ron scowled and stared directly ahead.
"Bibliophile means book lover."
He rolled his eyes, and Harry thought he would collapse from the efforts to remain silent, either that or literally eat one of his shoes. "I know, Hermione, I am not thick."
As much as Harry loved watching Ron wind Hermione up, he loved watching her return the favour even more. She continued with her performance, unaffected by Ron's comments. "And I should hate to bring up what happened with the self-service in the café…"
"I SAID, ALL RIGHT," he bit off through clenched teeth. Tipping the wink to Harry to show that she hadn't really provoked him, Ron decided to continue on his rant. "You know, Hermione, when we were in plain old Muggle Bloody Studies, all we got to learn about is how Muggles lift heavy objects without magic. What's so important about that? I mean, your parents do that all of the time. Even my parents do it and all they'd have to do is wave a wand if they really wanted to shift something. I can't say that Harry's aunt and uncle have ever lifted anything. Maybe his uncle, but it was nothing more than a crème cake, I'd reckon."
Harry started laughing as Hermione shook her head yet again, too disgusted to utter a reply and marched ahead of them down the corridor. Ron shot a grin of his own at Harry as they continued to the Great Hall.
"That was too easy," the redhead chuckled in low voice.
Harry agreed with him. "That was a bit too easy." Their last year at Hogwarts had started and, although they were all older, little seemed to have changed. Even though this was their last year at the school, even though the wizard war was engaged, even though his aunt had done an abrupt about face and had told him that she loved him and that his parents would be proud of him, it was all quite normal - and Harry found that to be immensely reassuring. It would be an ordinary year. Their last year at Hogwarts would be normal. "You know, it's just like we never left," he grinned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Melora Emilie Lilasmorte. That was her name. She was Hogwarts' new Advanced Muggle Studies teacher. Moreover, she was a Ravenclaw. In the history of the school, never before had a Ravenclaw taught even the regular Muggle Studies class. Usually a Gryffindor taught the class, or even a Hufflepuff, but never a Ravenclaw before. Certainly never a Slytherin, but that really went without stating. Rumours were circulating around their new professor already, and the first Advanced Muggle Studies class of the year had yet to sit.
Harry and his friends walked into the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table with his roommates Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas.
"Have you heard about the new prof?" Seamus asked in a stage whisper. Ron and Harry nodded while Hermione simply rolled her eyes. Seamus made a face at her and stuck out his tongue. She rolled her eyes again. "Right then, so, spill it, what is there to know about her?"
Harry shrugged. "Well…I don't know, really. We've only heard that she is teaching Advanced Muggle Studies and that she's a Ravenclaw."
"Yeah," started Dean, "the first one in the history of Hogwarts to teach any kind of Muggle Studies class."
"Is she nice?" wondered Neville. He appeared to be quite sincere in his questioning. For a moment, Harry envied him. Despite everything that had happened in his life, Neville still had a sweetness and innocence to him.
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and mouthed, "Is he kidding?"
Seamus leaned forward and offered, in conspiratorial tones, "I imagine that she might be all right. I've heard that she is a pretty serious teacher, though, so we might be getting quizzed. Often. On real topics. Witness the booklist. Jung? Freud? Skinner? Maslow? You could only get these books from Flourish and Blott's as a special order or go to a Muggle bookstore."
Ron traded glances with Hermione. "Do not start," he mouthed to her. She merely arched an eyebrow.
"Well, I think she will be nice," offered Neville. He folded his arms and pursed his lips. "On the booklist she had noted that any student who wasn't able to get a hold of those books would be taken care of the first week of class." He nodded sagely. "I think that makes her nice."
Seamus shrugged noncommittally while Ron simply blinked. Nonplussed, Seamus continued. "This looks to be a real class, with real subjects, none of the 'lift with your back' rubbish they taught us in Muggles 101. This is serious." This elicited groans from the group, with the exception of Hermione.
She turned up her nose and snorted. "You lot are incredibly melodramatic. Afraid of a quiz or two and some new books. And your information is woefully lacking on our newest teacher." Hermione leaned in close and the boys followed suit. "She is pretty young for a professor. I mean she is fairly close in age to us, so she hasn't been away from Hogwarts long. Maybe eleven years at most - my guess is that she's barely ten years older than us. The thing of it is she already has many years worth of experience in spite of being a recent graduate. Practical experience at that." Her last statement caused some eyes to widen. Apparently satisfied, Hermione continued. "Allegedly, she's defeated several monsters and a dark sorcerer." She placed emphasis on the word 'and'. "From what I've heard, she is a well-travelled and well-practised witch. Matter of fact, I heard that she was originally at the top of the list to teach us how to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts, but Auct Plum won the job."
"She was up for Dark Arts?" wondered Harry. Hermione always seemed to know everything. She was an absolute marvel. He did not doubt that there wasn't anything she couldn't do...or, at least, read up on and then learn to do. She had always amazed him like that.
Hermione noticed Harry's gaze. She glanced and him and then glanced away again, quickly. Harry thought that she even turned a little pink. He felt his face flush and focused back on the conversation. That little exchange was most peculiar…
Longbottom voiced Harry's previous thought to the group. "How does Hermione know everything?" he wondered, shaking his head. Seamus and Dean looked to one another and then shrugged. Harry had to grin. Most who knew Hermione simply accepted her omniscience after a while.
"A woman teaching DADA?" Ron perked up at the latter part of her report.
This immediately caught the ire of Miss Granger. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Ron blinked, realizing what he had said and to whom. "Well, Hermione, it's just that -"
"Yes?"
Weasley fidgeted in his seat, his blue eyes wide. He shot a look at Harry, one that begged for help, but Harry just shrugged at him by way of apology. He, Seamus, and Dean all concealed snickers while Neville cringed sympathetically. "Well…Umbridge was totally useless. And it's just that...I don't think...I don't think that a woman's ever properly taught that class before."
"Just because Umbridge was a sociopath and a waste of a witch, you don't think that a woman would be capable of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts? That is your problem, Ronald Weasley, you don't think."
Ron opened his mouth to issue a rebuttal, but was immediately shushed by Finnegan. "Oi, shh, Ron, here she is."
All turned to face the dais.
The professors entered into the Great Hall in a long procession, moving towards the tables lining the dais and standing behind their designated seats. Leading them in was Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Immediately following him was Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Teacher, and head of the House of Gryffindor; Professor Filius Flitwick - Charms Master and head of Ravenclaw; Professor Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin and the Potions Master; Professor Pomona Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff House and Herbology Teacher; then, to the utter shock of Ron and Ginny Weasley, whose jaws literally dropped, Professor Arthur Weasley, their new Muggle Studies teacher; next to him, Professor Melora Lilasmorte, the new Advanced Muggle Studies teacher; Professor Edmund Paisot, the new Ancient Runes teacher; Professor Petr "Plum" Auct, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher (or DADA, as the students took to calling it); Firenze - resident centaur and Divinations Teacher; Professor Sibyll P. Trelawney, their former Divinations Teacher, who was now the Mystic Musings and Meditations teacher (not to the surprise of the older students - they were of the collective opinion that Professor Trelawney's classes were always trance conjuring, if not downright coma inducing); Mr. Argus Filch - the Caretaker; Professor Rubeus Hagrid, their Care of Magical Creatures Teacher and Gamekeeper; Professor Binns - History of Magic Teacher (still dead, still teaching class, and still did unaware of the fact that he was dead); Professor Sinistra - the Astronomy Teacher; Professor Vector - the Arithmancy Teacher; Madame Hooch - the Flying Instructor and Quidditch Referee; Madame Irma Pince - the Librarian; and Madame Poppy Pomfrey - the Nurse and chief of the Hospital Wing, and the rest of the Hogwarts faculty.
Professor Dumbledore made his way to the lectern and waved at the students, motioning for the first years to enter the hall and for the older students to take their seats. The instructors followed suit as the Great Hall fell silent. "Welcome, students," he began, "welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I trust that you had all had a restful and uneventful time away from us." Dumbledore paused and quickly scanned the assembly. To Harry, it seemed as if Dumbledore were taking inventory, checking to see if any had been lost to the war that was raging in the wizarding community. Looking satisfied with the results, Dumbledore continued. "Now, before we start the Sorting Ceremony and the Feast, we have a few start of term announcements. For our first years, please note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly prohibited to all students, and when I say all students, this includes those who went wandering about despite this warning during their first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth years at Hogwarts." Dumbledore threw a glance at Harry, Hermione, and Ron over the top of his glasses. All three visibly cringed and slunk in their seats while their friends snickered mercilessly. Dumbledore pursed his lips, tipped Harry a teasing wink, and continued. "For our first years and old hats, please note that portions of the sixth floor are now open to students. Please refrain from entering the still restricted areas of the sixth floor." Filch took the opportunity to scowl at the students. "That said, while you older students have been away from our fine halls, some changes have occurred." Dumbledore motioned toward the dais. "Firstly, as I am sure you have all heard by now, we have added a new class to our curriculum. Advanced Muggle Studies. Yes, yes, it is a N.E.W.T. class. Rest assured that, in light of recent events, all of you seventh years will be learning a great deal about the non-magic world in preparation for your graduation." At this Professor Dumbledore again surveyed the amassed students before carrying on. "However, lest I forget, for our original Muggle Studies class we have a new yet familiar professor. It is my honour and pleasure to introduce to you the former head of the Office of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts in the Ministry of Magic, esteemed Gryffindor, and now Hogwarts professor, Arthur Weasley."
Mr. - Professor Weasley, Harry knew that he would have a rough time remembering that in the halls - Professor Weasley stood and nodded in appreciation as all of the Gryffindors, most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and a decent number of Slytherin applauded him. The loudest cheers came from Harry and his friends, led by Ron and Ginny. The two redheads climbed atop the table and whistled and cheered and clapped for their father. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?" Ron managed to roar above the approving din. Professor Weasley blushed and looked appropriately apologetic. Ron then turned to his sister. "Did you know?" he shouted to her. She shook her head violently, so Ron glared down at Hermione. "YOU KNEW, DIDN'T YOU?" he yelled above the applause. Hermione shrugged, then grinned, and then stuck her tongue out at Ron, who roared with laughter. Ginny squealed loudly and clapped in appreciation. Harry simply shook his head, wondering how it was that Hermione knew and that no one else in Hogwarts had let on to Ron or Ginny, or to him, even. Professor Weasley finally waved the students to silence, Ron and Ginny receiving hand shakes and claps on the back as the celebration wound down.
Headmaster Dumbledore, smiling broadly, walked over to shake Professor Weasley's hand, and then returned to the lectern. "Now, I am sure that with our next announcement, you older students will remember our former Divinations professor. It is my pleasure to inform you that Professor Trelawney has been gracious in accepting the Mystic Musings and Meditations position."
Professor Trelawney, garbed in flowing and mismatched paisley and voile garments (or, as Ron whispered to Harry, still flush with the surprise of his father being named a professor, "I see she's still dressed as one of those hippies you told me about"), and still wearing her impossibly thick eyeglasses, stood and flourished a ring-adorned hand at the students, her bangles and bracelets tinkling.
Dumbledore nodded at her and continued. "Also, we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I should like for you to welcome Professor Petr Auct."
Professor Auct stood up and bowed stiffly at the waist. He was dressed in a rather dapper manner. Auct wore a cream-coloured three-piece suit, the waistcoat being darker, almost camel in tone, a pressed white dress shirt, and a golden tie. He also wore a dark gold cape with red silk lining - the colours a mark of his being a Gryffindor. He was very pale, nearly as pale as Professor Snape. A distinguishing feature of Auct was a shock of unruly white hair. It stuck out at all angles, almost in an attempt to get away from his head. Harry idly wondered if that was what his own hair would look like when he was…whatever age Auct was. The professor's eyes, which were a very bright shade of purple, surveyed the Great Hall. His gaze came to rest on a group at the Gryffindor table.
The amethyst gaze caused Ron to squirm in his seat. He made a strange squelching noise, the one that he usually reserved for spiders and the like. Neville looked down at the table's surface while Seamus focused his sole attention on Dumbledore. Dean managed to occupy himself with the hem of his robes. Even Hermione was unable to meet Auct's gaze, looking instead at her hands. The only one in the group to return the stare was Harry.
Auct's purple eyes blinked at Harry, and then, much to Harry's utter astonishment, Auct winked, and then the Dark Arts professor returned to his seat. Once he turned away from them, Ron visibly deflated.
"Bloody hell, Harry," he whispered. "Purple eyes? Now I know why they call him 'Plum'."
"Indeed," Harry murmured in distraction. His eyes danced around the Great Hall, his focus elsewhere. The past two months were almost too much for him to digest. Why had Dumbledore and then Auct winked at him? What was happening to everyone? Dumbledore he could understand; the man had a prankster's streak that made the Weasley twins look like acolytes. But Auct? Harry felt a strange tugging at his memory. It was as though there was something important that he had forgotten, and he had stumbled across something strong enough to remind him that he had forgotten something - it just wasn't strong enough to tell him what he'd forgotten. It was a disconcerting sensation.
The sound of Dumbledore's voice brought him back to the Great Hall. "And, as Professor Agein has decided to retire, we have a new Ancient Runes teacher. Please welcome Professor Edmund Paisot."
Professor Paisot gawkily stood from his seat, almost toppling his chair in the process. He appeared to be incredibly anxious. His dark eyes compulsively roamed the Hall, almost as if he were expecting something to happen. Something terrible. His long, pale fingers tapped nervously on the tabletop. In his appearance, down to his manner of dress, he was the opposite of Professor Auct. Paisot was dressed in a rumpled two-piece suit in a dark grey. To the outfit's credit, the jacket was less rumpled looking than the trousers, but not by much. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top and one side of it was hanging over his belt. He wore a dark paisley tie that hung loosely around his neck and was also squared off unevenly. He also wore dark robes, black with a dark green lining. Paisot was a Slytherin, and probably not the pride of Slytherin House, Harry thought with some amusement. The professor was very pale as well, paler than Auct. He wore eyeglasses; old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses that looked as through they were about to slide off of his thin nose. While Auct's white hair was wild and untidy, Paisot's jet-black hair was trim and neat. The contrast was rather marked between the two new professors. Paisot looked to be the approximation of one of Hermione's "twentieth year" students.
Once Paisot managed to seat himself without tipping his chair over, Dumbledore proceeded with completing the introductions. "And I should also like to introduce you all to our new Advanced Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Melora Lilasmorte," Dumbledore continued.
The Gryffindor group took the opportunity to size up the teacher as she stood to greet them. She was dressed primarily in black, which wasn't at all unusual for Hogwarts. She wore a floor-length fitted coat, fastened at the waist. The length and the fabric gave the illusion that she was wearing a dress. Beneath the coat she wore long black trousers, a high-collared white shirt, and a black waistcoat. She also wore black suede or velvet gloves. She had on few pieces of jewellery, a faint feminine touch against the (for the most part) masculine attire. Her dark hair was pulled back, and instead of the traditional pointed hat, she wore a black top hat with a black voile band and bow. It reminded Harry of an Edwardian undertaker's hat. Professor Lilasmorte was pale, paler even than Auct, Paisot, or Snape, which did not seem possible. She somehow managed the feat of looking young and old at the same time - there was something elusive about her, something that intrigued Harry. She also wore glasses, rectangular shaped glasses with a silver-toned frame and yellow tinted lenses. Potter liked that she wore glasses. He felt as thought it gave him something in common with her. For some reason, that struck him as being important.
Lilasmorte stood away from her place at the table and tilted her head at the students in acknowledgement. She looked over the students filling the Great Hall, briefly resting on Draco Malfoy, causing him to shift in his seat uncomfortably. He turned away from her and briefly made eye contact with Harry. The Slytherin arched an eyebrow and sneered. That was an improvement on Malfoy's part, but feeling a bit churlish, Harry returned the favour by blowing a mock kiss at him. This caused the other boy's eyes to widen in alarm and he immediately turned his back on Potter. Harry suppressed a chuckle at his little success.
As if she had noticed, Lilasmorte's attentions finally came to rest on Harry and his friends.
Hermione heard Harry make a noise. To her, it sounded like a suppressed gasp. She turned and frowned at him. "Harry, are you feeling all right?" she whispered.
His face paled. "I - I think…" Lilasmorte's eyes locked onto his and Harry found himself at a loss for words. Grey. Silver. Her eyes were grey; he could see that over the tops of her glasses. Her glasses had silver frames. Grey eyes. Pale grey eyes. That was all that Harry could see. Grey and silver. Grey…
Hermione stared at him for a moment. As she stared, Harry was dimly aware of the fact that he wasn't blinking. Was he being bewitched, right here in the Great Hall, in front of everyone? In front of Dumbledore? He saw Hermione turn in her seat to glare at the source, wordlessly questioning the woman staring at him. Lilasmorte transferred her gaze from Potter to Granger. The teacher gave a brief nod to Hermione as she took her seat next to Snape.
Snape flashed an enquiring glance at Lilasmorte and then stared at the Gryffindor table, his dark eyes scrutinizing the group with suspicion. Hermione disrespectfully arched an eyebrow at him and turned to tend to Harry.
"Harry, what was that? Are you all right? Was she casting some sort of enchantment?"
Some of the colour had returned to his cheeks and he was blinking again, rapidly now. "No. Not exactly. I think. Yes…I am. I mean, I think so." Harry was shaken by the experience and looked it. "I'm not sure what that was, Hermione."
Ron had taken note and was cautiously monitoring Lilasmorte from the side of his eye. "I think she was bewitching you, Harry. She wasn't blinking."
"Harry, neither were you," Hermione added.
He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "I had hoped that this year would be normal," he said softly. "I thought that it might be." He stared at his glasses as they sat in the palm of his hand. He tilted them so that they reflected the candles suspended in midair above them, a twinkling of light on the glass. "It got off to such a good start…I had really hoped that it would be a normal year."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The remainder of the orientation, from the Sorting Ceremony through the Feast, happened without incident, though Harry had been careful to avoid looking at Professor Lilasmorte's side of the dais. Hermione had been the one to keep a watch on her. She commented to Harry that Snape seemed to take a bit of an interest in the new teacher.
"He saw what she was doing."
"But he didn't do anything. Other than give us a dirty look," Ron muttered.
Neville shook his head and nearly shuddered. "When isn't he doing that?"
"Too right. He's always got a nasty look on his face," added Seamus. "Like one of George and Fred's Ultra Dungbombs went off under his robes."
Harry was still disoriented from his strange encounter with the new Ravenclaw teacher. He walked with them in silence, his head down, lost in thought. With all that was happening in the wizard and the Muggle world, Hogwarts seemed his one sanctuary. The one place where everything made sense. And now… The others moved on ahead of him, wrapped in conversation. Hermione took notice of Harry's mood and fell back. Harry registered this and made it a point not to let on to Hermione that he knew what she was doing. As she slowed her pace, Ron looked over his shoulder to see where the two of them had gotten. Harry saw Hermione gave him a nod to continue on. He widened his eyes in concern, but she nodded at him again, and he acquiesced. Harry managed to observe the exchange without being noticed by either. He had honed this skill while living in the Dursley household, observing the proceedings without being noticed. The skill had saved him from verbal abuse and worse on many occasions.
He responded to her unspoken request to act as a diversion. "So, which of you knew my dad was going to be a prof here and didn't tell me?" he demanded of the group as they moved further along the hall. "Bloody hell, we were even in my brothers' joke shop and they didn't breathe a word! C'mon, confess, which of you lot knew?" He quickened his pace and their friends followed suit, giving Hermione time to speak with Harry alone. She slowed her pace even more to match Potter's, and walked along with him, at his elbow. "Harry," she began in a soft voice. "Are you sure that you are feeling all right?"
Harry suddenly stopped walking and stood still, wordlessly staring at the stone floor.
"Harry?" said Hermione again. He could see that she experienced a flutter of panic. It showed itself plainly on her features. She had never before seen him so reserved, that much he was aware of.
He said at length, "I've forgotten something."
She gave him a strange look. "What do you mean?"
"I've forgotten something."
"What have you forgotten, Harry?" He could tell that she was slightly put off by his manner. But there was little he could do about it.
"That's just it, Hermione. I don't remember." He paused. "But she does."
He heard as her breath nearly caught in her throat. "That…woman did bewitch you. Right in front of the entire school, she bewitched you. Never mind the school; she did it right in front of Professor Dumbledore. How is that possible? Who is she, Harry? Tell me."
He continued to stare at the floor. "She remembers what I've forgotten," he replied cryptically. He didn't know why he was being so evasive, but a part of him was enjoying it. The other part truly thought it to be true, that she knew something that he didn't, something that he needed to know but had forgotten.
Hermione took Harry by the shoulders and shook him. "Harry, look at me." He would only stare at the floor, a distant look on his face. She shook him harder. "Look at me," she repeated. He merely blinked and sighed. Hermione took his face into her hands and made him meet her gaze. "What has she done to you?" she whispered.
It was then that Harry smiled at her. He knew that it was an unusual smile, but he was in a most unusual mood. It was almost…it was almost the kind of smile an adult would give to a child who had claimed to see Santa Claus. Yes, dear, of course you did, followed by a pat on the head. It was…condescending. He had never looked at Hermione in this way, so he understood that she was mildly dumbstruck by his reaction. He smiled, took her hands from his face, clasped them firmly, and said, "It will be quite all right, Hermione." Then he kissed her on the cheek and walked away.
She was left in the hallway, stunned, unable to do little more than to watch him turn the corner and disappear into the school. He heard her voice faintly echo down the hallway. "Harry…what…what has she…done…."
∞