A Coven of Prefects
Chapter Four: So Now That You're a Lifeguard...
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
When Dolores Umbridge banished Harry Potter from her class, Hermione Granger's mind went blank.
What now?
In danger of complete shutdown, her conscious mind pulled the "In Case of Emergency" alarm and summoned her seldom relied upon subconscious. Her subconscious mind showed up with an armful of CDs, assessed the situation, and slapped a classic from The Clash into the player (it often had to resort to extreme measures to gain attention).
The searing guitar launched into the iconic hook that resonated inside Hermione's head. The chords jumpstarted her brain like a heart revived by electronic defibrillator. It wasn't the answer to her problems, but it was the right question.
"Should I stay, or should I go?"
The pump was primed for her booking…she'd enraged the toad almost as much as Harry… all she'd probably need say was, "Harry isn't lying, Voldemort has returned," and she'd be sent off. Or, she could keep her mouth shut, her arm down, and her head low, and make it through the last ten minutes of class without a detention.
If she stayed, there would be trouble…Harry would immediately assume that he wasn't behind her 100%, or that she agreed with the toad's reprimands. But if she walked out of the DADA classroom…more than trouble doubled, she imagined.
The others had been shocked into silence…or maybe it was more like shocked into submission? It was so quiet that Hermione could hear Harry's steps as he stormed down the stone-floored hallway towards McGonagall's office.
Professor Umbridge's eyes were fixated on the door. The triumphant smile on her face made it look as if she'd just caught a juicy fly out of the air with her tongue. Her attention thus diverted, Hermione glanced around the room towards the other students. Surprisingly, most were looking to her for instructions.
What now?
Hermione glanced down at her wristwatch. Now only nine minutes to go.
With wary reliance upon her intuition, she shook her head, looked down towards her desk, and for the first time that period opened the text in front of her.
Tension broke in the room as the other Gryffindors followed her lead and kept their heads low.
From the corner of her eye, Hermione caught the doubly-satisfied smirk that formed on Umbridge's fat face. The Fifth-Year Prefect's conscious mind ignored the response, as it was entirely focused on developing talking points for the inevitable "discussion" with her best friend.
Hermione's subconscious mind, though…its reaction was different. It simmered in outrage and cried out for justice. It had all the right adrenalin-pumping anthems at its fingertips, just waiting to support the conscious mind when it rallied supporters to the barricades.
But the call to arms didn't come. Hermione's rational thoughts firmed up their hold on her decision-making, and her adrenalin levels dropped. The subconscious pouted, and called Hermione's logic all sorts of names behind its back. It wasn't until her conscious mind started forming plans for revenge that the subconscious was placated.
It could wait for the right moment, just as well as logic and reason could.
Hermione's subconscious placed the CDs of "Jerusalem," and "La Marseillaise" back onto the shelf, and began to search for supporting soundtracks that had a more subversive and cunning beat to them.
oo00OO00oo
She found him, after a half-hour's search, sitting in the rain down by the lake.
"It's raining, you know."
Harry turned towards Hermione and pushed the wet fringe of hair away from his glasses.
"Suits the occasion, don't you think?"
Hermione snorted, and looked towards the clouds from underneath her umbrella. A thin smile formed on her face as she pulled the umbrella shut and tossed it on the ground.
"Yes, I think it does," she replied, sitting down on the wet rock next to her best friend.
The two sat in silence for a few moments.
"I thought that you would furious with me once I found you," Hermione finally said.
Harry turned towards her and frowned.
"Rain took the piss out of me."
"So you were angry that I didn't anger the toad enough to join you in a night of detention?"
"It's a week."
"What?"
"My detention…every night for a week, starting tomorrow."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, grabbing lightly on his rain-soaked sleeve.
"I was still angry with you," Harry added. "But then…"
"Then what?"
"Then McGonagall offered me a biscuit, and I realized that you…you were more openly defiant than I was in class…Umbridge was just too stupid to realize it."
"What do you mean?"
Harry chuckled. "So the toad tells us to take out our textbooks…a text that you hadn't even read in advance of class, mind you…and orders you to start reading. But you didn't…you didn't even crack the cover! For Hermione Granger to ignore a Professor's instructions to read a book…that was more of a challenge to her authority than I could have ever conjured! Well done, Hermione."
The pride that started to swell within Hermione's chest was stomped down by her subconscious mind, which reminded her of her tactical submission to Umbridge with images of catapult-tossed cattle and cries of "Run Away! Run Away!"
"So what did Minerva have to say?" she asked, trying to change the topic.
"First name basis with her, Hermione?"
"Erm, course not," Hermione stammered, feeling foolish about the slip of tongue.
"Well, Minerva said that it was a good thing that I listened to you," Harry replied, with a very slight smile. "But she also said that speaking truth to power is a rather foolish thing to do."
"She did?"
"Yep, she told me to keep my head low and don't make waves," Harry replied. "Not something that you'd expect out of the mouth of the Head of the House of Gryffindor, is it?"
Giggles started to bubble up from inside Hermione.
"What's so funny about that?"
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione replied in between chortles. "What you said…reminded me…I don't think Umbridge expected projectile vomit out of McGonagall's mouth either."
Harry snorted, and laughed despite his mood.
oo00OO00oo
Harry and Hermione had braced for even more blatant Great Hall whispers and stares, now that he had a confrontation with Umbridge under his belt.
They were only partially correct.
There was a lot of staring, and whispering, but the stares were directed towards the Head Table, and the whispering involved retellings of how (and onto whom) the Transfiguration Professor had lost her lunch.
Dolores Umbridge was too busy basking in the glow of her Harry Potter slap-down to notice student reaction as she entered the Great Hall. But that didn't mean that the well-developed reptilian portion of her brain was on holiday…it bore down on the fact that McGonagall wasn't at the Head Table, and guided her towards a seat that had professorial buffers to each side.
The Hogwarts Potions Professor nodded as Umbridge sat down next to him. A half-hearted greeting was lost with the cheers and applause of students responding to their Transfiguration Professor's grand entrance.
"It appears that the students are happy to see that Professor McGonagall has returned to health," Snape drolly said.
"That is one possibility," Umbridge was forced to admit.
When McGonagall was halfway towards the front, Snape pushed his chair away from the Head Table and stood.
"If you'll excuse me, Professor Umbridge," he said.
The hooked-nose professor was gone before Umbridge could finish her half-formed protest. With his back now to the Head Table, Snape offered a slight tilt of his head as he passed his colleague in the aisle.
"I am pleased to see that you have recovered, Minerva," he said quietly.
"Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Severus," she replied with a smile.
True to her comment, McGonagall made a direct path towards the seat that Snape had just vacated.
"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," she said, grabbing the seat back. "But Professor Snape was sitting here."
Minerva smiled and gestured towards the Slytherin's table, where their Head of House had joined his Firsties.
"Professor Snape often dines with his new First-Years at start of term," she replied. "I'm sure that he wouldn't mind…do you?"
Umbridge pasted on a weakly manufactured smile. "Of course not, Professor."
"Excellent."
The Headmaster called down the table once McGonagall was settled.
"I am pleased to see that you have recovered from your noontime discomfort."
"Thank you, Albus," Minerva replied. "I am pleased as well, and…well, I am rather hungry, as you might expect."
Dumbledore nodded his head and smiled. "By all means, then…tuck in."
"Thank you, Headmaster."
The Transfiguration Professor turned back to her place setting. In response to some silent command, the evening meal appeared in front of her.
"Ah, liver…my favorite," she said with delight.
The DADA professor watched with ill ease as Minerva sliced off a piece of meat and poked it into her mouth.
"Delicious," she declared after swallowing. "And such a lovely looking color, too…matches your cardigan far better than that Shepherd's Pie, don't you think Delores?"
The turkey-necked witch shook her head and jowls. "I'm afraid that my appetite's suddenly a bit off, if you'll pardon me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that…hope that this isn't an outbreak of Wizard's Flu…would you like an escort to the Infirmary?"
"Erm, no…no thank you," Umbridge replied, as she backed away from her chair. "I'll just retire for the night."
As Umbridge made her way towards the exit, a Second-Year Hufflepuff decided that it was a good time to call out to his friend sitting over at the Ravenclaw table.
The friend's name was Ralph.
Given the flinch that this drawn-out enunciation provoked, Ralph quickly became a very popular student whenever Umbridge was within earshot.
oo00OO00oo
Dolores Umbridge's hasty retreat from the Great Hall had placed Harry, Hermione and Ron in far better moods than they otherwise would have been as they made their way back towards the Gryffindor Common Room. But as they found their favorite seats by the fireplace and started in on homework, the reality of workloads during their O.W.L. year took hold. This was particularly true for Ron and Harry, who (thanks to a pointless row that Ron had instigated), could no longer rely upon Hermione's largesse when it came to assignments.
The three were about two hours into their efforts when Michelle Sachs, the Sixth-Year Gryffindor female prefect, came through the portal.
"It's meeting time, Hermione," she announced.
"Oh, yes…thanks for the reminder, Michelle," Hermione replied. "I'll just run my books up to the room…"
"No, that's okay," replied Michelle. "I'm fetching my own...we can stop by the library afterwards and study together."
"Okay."
When Hermione turned back towards the fireplace she discovered Ron's attention more focused on Michelle's backside than his Potions essay.
"Well, she had a nice growth spurt over hols, didn't she?" Ron asked, to nobody in particular.
Harry had been tracking Hermione's reaction to Ron's reaction to the Sixth-Year, rather than the Sixth-Year herself.
"Didn't actually notice…did she?"
"Michelle looks no taller than she did at the start of summer," Hermione said tersely.
"Thinking more outwards than upwards," Ron blurted.
Hermione growled, and swung her bookbag towards Ron's side. Blocking the bludgeon with his forearm, he asked, "What…am I wrong?"
"Time and place, you berk," Harry hissed.
Hermione turned her ire from friend to best friend.
"So, Harry, are you suggesting that there is a right time and place to drool over your house mates?"
The Boy-Who-Lived pursed his lips and he flayed about for a safe recovery.
"Well, certainly not in the Common Room, or where it would upset others…"
"Yeah, Hermione," added Ron, "Tell us that Lavender and Parvati don't gossip about boys in your dorm."
Hermione closed her eyes tightly as her mind raced. What would Ron's reaction would be if he knew why Lavender and Parvati did not engage in boy talk? Why hadn't Ron thought to she would be included in a conversation about boys? Was she that asexual in his eyes? At least it was Ron, not Harry…
"Boys!" she finally exclaimed in exasperation.
Ron grinned widely. "Gotta love us, right?"
Hermione responded with an incredulous stare, thinking, Actually, no…witches don't have to love wizards…saw that first hand last night.
"So...where are you off to with Sachs?" Ron asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a meeting of all the female Prefects…good enough excuse?
Harry snorted. "Good enough for me, I'm about to head up to bed anyway."
Ron, however, was more persistent. "What's the meeting for?"
"Going over rules and beginning of term things, I imagine."
"Thought you had one of those last night," said Ron.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "So there's a lot of things to go over in the Rulebook."
"But the meeting's just for girl prefects?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine, Ron," she hissed. "You caught us out. We're really going to go down to the Prefect's Bath, take of all of our clothes, rub hot oil over our bodies, then frolic in the bubble bath. "
Ron's eyes started to glaze over at the thought.
"Sounds rather sexy to me," he proclaimed.
"Ugh!" Hermione shouted. "Is that all you blokes think about? Sex?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders.
"Not all the time, actually…there is Quidditch."
Hermione shouldered her bag, then threw her hands in the air.
"I give up!"
Harry decided that Hermione could use some help yanking on Ron's chain.
"So Ron, when are you getting naked with the other male prefects and rubbing hot oil over their bodies?"
The look of horror on Ron's face made Harry wish (for once) that Creevy was around with his camera.
"That's just not right, mate," Ron finally stammered.
Hermione's eyes brightened with appreciation for Harry's slam. "Oh, I don't know," she said with a smile. "Sounds rather sexy to me."
Ron scrunched up his face. "That's it...I'm off to bed."
"Sweet dreams," Hermione called after him, as he ran up the stairs.
oo00OO00oo
Michelle Sachs and Victoria Ludhaven, the Gryffindor Seventh-Year female Prefect, returned to the Common Roon soon after Ron left. Hermione gave Harry a much more sincere wish for his pleasant dreams, and then followed the other two witches as they walked out of the portal.
The trip through Hogwarts' halls was made quietly; there were plenty of questions that Hermione could have asked, but the hallways had ears. So instead of asking questions, Hermione mentally fumed over Ron's boorish behavior and Michelle's bouncing bits.
Standing at four-foot eight (142cm) in stocking feet, Michelle Sachs was one of the few upperclass Gryffindors (male or female) that was shorter than Harry. That said, nobody would have called the witch tiny, especially when she began to develop. By the end of Hermione's Fourth Year, Michelle was a 34D, and from what she had seen the previous night, Michelle's breasts had grown even bigger over the holidays. And if that wasn't bad enough, the now Sixth-Year had cut her hair, and now sported a neck-exposing bob that only accentuated her curves further.
Gryffindor's newest female Prefect wondered if the emphasis was intentional…Michelle had always seemed more interested in hiding her profile than exposing it with neckline-plunging robes. And now there was even more reason to give the Sixth-Year the benefit of the doubt…she didn't have a boyfriend (that Hermione knew of), and was a Coven member. She therefore had to at least be sympathetic to lesbians…maybe one herself?
Hermione scolded herself for focusing on Michelle's physical attributes, and for forgetting how the witch had acted the year previous. As a Fifth-Year Prefect, Michelle had done little to dissuade the House from its rude and isolating behavior towards the reluctant fourth Tri-Wizard Tournament Champion. She had also been one of the last Gryffindors to apologize to Harry for thinking that he had lied about entering his name into the Cup.
"But at least she did apologize," Hermione noted. "Unlike the other Prefect…"
Seventh-Year Prefect Vicky Ludhaven had been just as aloof as Michelle at the start of Fourth Year. She eventually stopped acting as if Harry was a liar, and hadn't been one of the Gryffindors to whisper and stare this year…but she also hadn't come around to apologize, or admit that she'd acted badly.
As far as Hermione knew, the Seventh-Year Prefect had not said more than three words to Harry since the night of the Third Task. And until Vicky did come around and apologize to Harry, Hermione had no intentions of acting friendly towards the Seventh-Year…even with her new status as a Coven "sister."
"A Coven sister," she noted with satisfaction, "whose tits weren't any bigger than mine."
Hermione shook her head…she was thinking about breasts again, in terms that would have shocked her friends had they been voiced. The Fifth-Year then thought about her alibi…"tits" was what her mum always called them. And the thought of her mum led Hermione's thoughts back to an eventful mother/daughter conversation held at the start of hols.
Hermione had pulled her mum aside and asked her opinion about going topless at the beach that summer. Emily Granger was sympathetic. She rarely said, "Do as I say, not as I do,"…in fact, she said it about as often as she wore a top whilst sunbathing (i.e. almost never). But after promising to both help Hermione shop for a thong, and to help Hermione's father accept the choice of attire, Emily asked her daughter about the kinds of things that teen-aged girls (whether muggle or magical) loathe to discuss with their parents…boys, and developing bodies, and peer pressure.
When Hermione expressed disappointment in the extent of her physical development, Emily had tried to be sympathetic. She noted that her own breasts weren't large by any means, and neither were Hermione's grandmothers on either side. But then Emily went off into "To Much Informationland" and declared that the size of her tits had never kept Hermione's father from playing with them at every opportunity (as well as a few instances that were too public to be considered opportune). When Hermione protested, her mum steered back towards her daughter's self-image issues, and proclaimed that, "the boys who can't get beyond the bits weren't worth the bother." She then asked whether Hermione's two male friends were worth bothering about.
Hermione was quick to place Ron with the Neanderthals. As for Harry…Hermione wasn't sure. He didn't blatantly stare at witches like Michelle, but he had certainly crushed on Cho, and her breasts were perfect…but then again nearly everything about Cho was perfect. She was smart, had a hard body, and played Seeker just like Harry. How could Hermione blame him for his interest?
That question had lingered over Hermione's head all summer long. It still hovered in Hermione's thoughts, even as Victoria and Michelle led her into an unused classroom and magically sealed the door.
"Isn't this supposed to be a meeting of all of the female prefects?" she asked.
The Seventh-Year held up her hand in a "wait" signal until she overlapped a silencing charm onto her Colloportus.
"It is, and we're almost there," she replied, turning her attention from Hermione to Michelle. The Sixth-Year had her wand drawn, and was touching a series of points along the wall opposite the doorway. Once the sequence was complete, a six-foot wide portion of wall slid to one side.
"There are four hidden entrances into the Coven's Lair," Michelle explained to Hermione, as they entered the opening. "Keeps the foot traffic down at any one entrance, bolsters plausible alibis."
"This entrance is used by Gryffindor Coven Members…if somebody spies you entering or leaving the classroom, just tell them that you wanted a quiet place to study, and that Michelle and I helped you find one….we're running a bit late, so we'll show you the touch sequence to open the passageway on the way out."
Hermione nodded as the other two witches lit their wand tips with magic. Once inside the hidden passage, she was shown the proper stone to touch so that the door closed behind them.
"It's a bit redundant, given that there are wards on the entrance to the classroom door that I magically locked and silenced," Victoria stated. "The male repelling ward alone screens out half of the problems."
"But since there are witches who aren't necessarily sympathetic to the cause…" added Michelle.
Hermione snorted. "Umbridge?"
Michelle nodded as they turned to face a set of upward leading stairs.
"So the classroom that is adjacent to the Coven's Lair?" Hermione asked. "The one we used to meet with Professor Vector before we entered the Initiation Ceremony?"
"That's Hufflepuff's, normally," the Seventh-Year replied.
"Lucky witches," Michelle muttered. "Don't always have to traipse up and down stairs…"
"Oh, stop whining, Michelle," said Vicky. "Looks like you put on a few pounds over summer…the exercise will do you good."
"Yeah, five pounds and it all went straight into my bra. You try carrying all of this extra weight up and down these steps."
The lanky, small-chested Seventh-Year shook her head. "Take the bad with the good, I guess," she muttered.
After climbing two full sets of stairs, the passageway came to a dead-end. Victoria placed a hand against the wall, and called out the password that she'd established for the year.
"Cramps."
Hermione thought the choice of passwords suited the Seventh-Year rather well.
Light spilled into the passageway when the secret door swung out. The three Gryffindors crawled on hands and knees through the last bit of tunnel, and onto the floor of the Coven's Lair.
The main room looked quite different now that it was furnished, and its occupants dressed. The Gryffindor's secret entrance was next to a magical version of a kitchenette, set in one corner of the room. The long wooden table that had been used for refreshments during the Ceremony was now pulled out from the wall, and had benches and chairs around it.
When Hermione pulled herself up to full height, she got her first view of the Lair's other furnishings. Dark wooden desks were set up in front of the bank of the bookcases that held the Coven's private library collection. Large fireplaces were set into every wall except for the one opposite, which hosted the doors that led into the lavatory and Private Dining Room. Between Hermione and those doors were groupings of comfortable leather chairs and sofas. The light-tan upholstery matched the warm earth tones found within the carpets and wall hangings. Hermione decided that this was fitting…they were neutral colors for what was essentially a fifth Common Room used by members of the all four Houses.
The other two Gryffindor prefects broke off to join small groups separated by year. Pansy Parkinson was on a sofa, hovering by the Seventh-Year Slytherin Prefect, while Hermione's Ravenclaw counterpart was in the corner library.
Hermione walked over to Padma, whose back was turned as she browsed the Coven's bookshelves. "Hey," she called out, "find anything interesting?"
The black-eyed witch turned and smiled. "I'm a Ravenclaw, Hermione…what do you think?"
"I think the Sorting Hat got it right," Hermione replied brightly. "The Fifth-Year Ravenclaw is studying in the library, while the Fifth-Year Slytherin is sitting back and watching how her Seventh-Year counterpart interacts with the Head Girl…very cunning. So where's Hannah?"
Padma snorted. "Our Hufflepuff is in the Dining Room with her friend…no doubt proving her loyalty and working hard to get her Housemate off."
Hermione smiled. "Okay, so what should I be doing right then?"
"Ah, yes…Gryffindor," Padma replied with a giggle. "I imagine that a brave Gryffindor ought to be recklessly charging into the Dining Room to join Beck and Hannah."
Hermione squinted at Padma, thinking how best to respond. She reached for the black-haired witch's hand and replied, "Okay, Gryffindors do lead the way…which means that others follow…coming with me?"
The Head Girl cut the bantering short when she stood and counted heads.
"We're two short…Hey Tway, think you can resist temptation and fetch Nojon and your newbie from the Dining Room?"
"Sure thing, boss," replied Ann Smith, the Sixth-Year Hufflepuff Prefect.
Hermione wondered how the nicknames "Tway" and "Nojon" came about as Ann made her way through the Green Door. Cat-calls and whistles greeted Hannah and Becky when they emerged with faces flushed red (whether from embarrassment or passion, Hermione couldn't tell). The Head Girl then told everyone to grab their bags and follow her into the lavatory.
Hermione's fears that this was the start of some type of scatological hazing were quelled when the Seventh-Year Ravenclaw marched into an opened stall and pulled the toilet tank out from the wall. Behind the commode was yet another secret door, in front of stairs that led downward.
Wand tips were lit with Lumos spells as the group began their descent into the darkened passage.
"Think you can handle that spell, Granger?" snarked Pansy Parkinson, who had managed to queue up behind Hermione.
Hermione turned and smiled, as she wandlessly conjured bluebell flames and lit her wand tip.
"Thought we were supposed to be on a first name basis, Pansy?" she asked.
"Ooops, must have slipped my mind, Herm-o-ninny."
One of the Seventh-Years turned towards the two witches and hissed, "Shut-it …don't need others in the castle tracking our movements by your bickering."
Hermione nodded and mouthed a "Sorry" to the older witch.
The witches traveled down too many stone steps to count, before the passageway leveled off and ran straight for several hundred feet.
"Taking your dinner underneath the Slytherin Table?" Pansy whispered along the way.
Hermione scowled. "What are you on about?"
"Thinking about how you'll pay for my silence in Potions," the Slytherin hissed in reply. "Maybe I'll make you wear a button that reads "I'm Draco's Bitch"."
"Thought you had one that covered already," Hermione whispered nastily.
"Sssshhhh!" admonished the Head Girl.
Pansy waited a few minutes before starting back in.
"So why'd you nick the potion?" she hissed. "Stress of being Pot-head's friend getting to you?"
Hermione fumed, but held her tongue.
"Weasley's shagging so horrible that it gives you nightmares at night?"
Still, Hermione stayed silent. She had counseled Harry many times about not taking Draco's bait, and she'd be damned if she ignored her own advice.
Two or three more nasty comments were hissed into Hermione's ear before the passageway ended with an abrupt dead end. The Head Girl asked for a leg up, and became the target for a super-sized Leviosa by the Seventh-Year Slytherin behind her. The lead witch then used her lit wand-tip to inspect the stone ceiling, and touched a number of stones in a sequence that caused the roof to slide back. A rope ladder was found after a bit of reaching about, and used by the Head Girl to climb out of the tunnel. Once she cleared the opening the others followed.
The group had arrived in the small basement of a private residence. Boxes of clothing and personal items stood stacked against the wall, while bundles of herbs and potion ingredients hanged from the ceiling to dry. There was scant room to move, which unfortunately meant that Hermione couldn't easily get away from Pansy's creative, and often disgusting suggestions on how Hermione's debt might be discharged.
The Head Girl climbed the stairs leading to ground level and knocked on the wooden door. A few moments later, the door opened, and the basement filled with light as a witch dressed in dark blue robes joined the group.
The witch's name was Flo, as was made clear when the older Prefects greeted her warmly. The forty-something witch (or at least she appeared to be forty-something to Hermione's eye) had a well-tanned face and a bright smile as she hugged each of the older students witches. When she reached the four new Prefects, Flo addressed each by name.
"Good evening, Sisters and welcome to the Coven," she said. "I hope that your trip here wasn't too dank or dusty?"
The witch didn't pause for answers before asking a second question. "So what do any of you four know about what's to happen tonight?"
The four Fifth-Years traded nervous looks, and admitted that they didn't know anything about the meeting.
"No ideas?" the witch asked incredulously. She turned to the other eight. "Don't tell me you kept secrets any better than those who've gone before?"
"No, we've been good about it, honest," Michelle Sachs replied.
The blue-robed witch snorted. "Well never mind…the whats and wheres and hows will come out soon enough." She then turned to the Fifth-Years and announced, "I'll be one of your guides over the next week…we're going to have so much fun!"
"Next week?" asked Hannah. "But what about classes?"
"No worries for you Sister Hannah, there will be plenty of instruction for you over the next seven days."
Padma asked "How?" but was provided only a wave in response as their guide pulled a silver chain from her neck that held a box-shaped pendant. When she placed the necklace on the floor and touched it with her wand-tip, the box expanded into a full-sized trunk with two separate locks on the lid. A key fished from Florence's robes opened the left-hand lock, and she lifted the lid to reveal a huge hourglass suspended in thin air.
"Bunch up girls, you know the drill," Flo said, as she carefully lifted the hourglass from the trunk. A long silver chain was attached to the hourglass, which Flo held out to the Head Girl.
"Lend a hand, will you Fanny?"
A snicker came from the prefects as the Head Girl admonished the group to "get friendly." Once the others were packed firmly into a tight circle, "Fanny" Edwards looped the silver chain over their heads and instructed those on the outside to grab hold.
"Make room in front," Flo instructed, as she closed the trunk, shrunk it down to pendant-size and slipped the necklace back over her head. She then stepped inside the chain with the Head Girl and lifted the hourglass.
Hermione had more of an idea on what was about to happen than the other three Fifth-Years, having had personal experience with a much smaller Time-Turner. She wondered whether the larger size was needed to accommodate a larger group of time-travelers, or to travel back further in time with each swing. The answer came when the guide yelled out "Here we go, then," and swung the hourglass in precisely one full rotation.
A light blue light enveloped the group for ten seconds of time. When the blue light cleared, Hermione looked up at the ceiling and noted with satisfaction that some of the hanging plants had gone missing, and that others weren't as desiccated as they'd been a few moments before.
With a satisfied smile, Flo announced, "Welcome, Sisters, to last week!"
Whispered conversations broke out, as the older witches explained time-travel to the newbies (Hermione took care to play along). The Head Girl and guide reversed their "future" efforts…the younger witch gathered the silver chain while the older resized her trunk pendant and opened the left-hand lock, so that the magical object could be safely stored. A different key was then used for the right-hand lock. The second compartment was empty, save for a thin golden hoop that the guide removed and set to one side.
"So, are you ready for a crash course in mental magic?" she asked the Fifth-Years.
The four witches looked around the hand-dug basement. Hannah asked, "Isn't it going to be a bit cozy for all of us to spend the week down here?"
Flo laughed. "It would be, if this were both our temporal and spatial destination." She pointed towards the trunk and added, "You can stow your book bags and any clothes that you care to shed in there."
"Clothes?" asked Hermione. "Is this going to be another naked ritual?"
The older witch smiled and shook her head. "Not unless you wish it to be, my dear."
"What's the tide tonight?" asked one of the older Prefects.
"Heading towards a high high at 2230."
"Brilliant," the witch replied, as she stepped out of her shoes and socks.
"Tides?" asked Hermione. "So there's a possibility of getting our feet wet?"
"Definitely."
"So…should we take our shoes and socks off, then?" asked Padma.
"Take off as much as you care to, luv," the older witch replied. "Just take care not to use your wands at the other end until you are told that it safe to do so."
Hermione noted that the older students were removing far more than socks and shoes.
"So drying charms are out, and if our robes get wet they'll stay wet until we get the all clear to do magic?"
"That's right."
Using an Impervious spell on her robes came to mind, but Hermione decided to follow the older Prefects's lead, especially once Flo slipped her robes off and revealed that she hadn't been wearing anything underneath.
Padma grabbed Hermione's arm and whispered, "What are you going to do?"
"Nervous?" she whispered back.
Padma nodded.
Hermione shrugged as she unbuttoned her robes. "Not that different than last night, right?"
The Ravenclaw nodded again as she grasped the front of her opened robes. "You're right, except…bit of a difference between stripping down in front of you three, and stripping down in front of all of the older Prefects…and what if there are men where we arrive?"
Hermione reached out and gave Padma's hand a sympathetic squeeze.
"Not all of the older girls are stripping down starkers…shall we do bra and knickers, and take them off only if they get soaking wet and cold?"
Padma smiled, and squeezed her friend's arm. "Thanks, Hermione."
"Where do we put our wands?" Hannah asked from across the room.
The question drew some snickering and lewd suggestions from the older girls, while Hermione noticed that Hannah had either stripped off her bra, or left it behind in the Coven's Lair.
"Ah, yes…would you like me to stick you?" asked the guide.
The question drew more snickering.
"Pay them no mind," said the older witch, as she walked up to Hannah. "Right-handed, dear?"
When the Hufflepuff nodded, the witch took Hannak's wand and said, "A bit too long, for your arm…turn to your left for me."
When Hannah made the requested quarter-turn the older witch placed her wand tip on the side of her right leg, just below her knickers, and dragged it down towards the knee and back again as she muttered a incantation.
"The muggleborns call this the Post-it Charm," she explained, as she stuck Hannah's wand lengthwise against her thigh. "It's a modified sticking charm that will hold your wand against your skin until you pull it off."
"And it can be reused?" asked Hermione.
When the older witch nodded, the muggleborn immediately asked to be taught the spell. The guide laughed, and said that there wasn't time (which seems a bit off, given the fact that they'd just gained so much of it). She did, however, promise to teach the spell later as she cast it upon Hermione and Padma.
Once her wand was holstered against her bare thigh, Hermione tucked her shoes and clothing into her book bag, thankful for its expansion charm. She then stowed the bag into the trunk along with the others. Once the trunk lid was closed, and returned to its pendant size and location, the guide picked the thin golden hoop back off of the floor.
"How many of you new Prefects have used a portkey before?"
All four witches raised their hands.
"Good, then grab on…it's time to move.
The four Fifth-Years gathered around the hoop with the other witches.
"How are we all supposed to fit around this?" asked Pansy.
The guide smiled. "Hook a finger, dear, and squeeze together. You've done it once, and if you aren't all friends yet, you soon will be."
Hermione had made an effort to distance herself from Pansy, but in doing so ended up with a now-naked Cho Chang behind her, so that when they all squeezed in, the Ravenclaw's breasts were mashed up against Hermione's back. Was it a not-so-subtle reminder of the disparity in their bustlines?
She jerked a bit when Cho's hand grabbed hold of her left thigh.
"Sorry," Cho muttered. "Lost my balance."
"It's okay," Hermione replied, not bothering to look back.
"Sure she lost her balance," Hermione thought. "Must be saving it all up for Quidditch."
The sensation of a hook pulling behind her navel kept Hermione from other catty thoughts as the portkey activated.
oo00OO00oo
Hermione tried to replicate her only other portkey experience and stepped out of the portkey's bright lights. But as the established arrival point was within the intertidal zone of a presently submerged beach, a running landing didn't work very well. She fell awkwardly into the water and was promptly bowled over by a crashing wave.
The Fifth-Year Gryffindor Prefect gained her footing, spit out a mouthful of salt water, and tried to get her bearings. They were seaside, obviously. It was a moonlit night, so probably still in Britain. Waves were lapping up against thirty-foot high chalk cliffs about fifty yards in front of her. These cliffs formed an enclosed cove, roughly two hundred yards long.
Hermione was ready for the next wave, and held her ground as the water washed around her. She looked for the others and spied Padma and Hannah struggling to their feet. Meanwhile, all of the older Prefects (who had obviously been prepared for a water landing) were either laughing at the Fifth-Years or playing in the surf.
"I really hope that this isn't the start of a week of hazing," Hermione thought to herself.
A cry for help coming from Hermione's left shook her out of her musing. She turned, and spied Pansy Parkinson about ten yards distant, thrashing about in the surf.
"Help!" she cried out. "I can't swim!"
Hermione frowned as the Slytherin's head went under. The water was only waist-deep, but that was more than enough to drown if someone panicked.
Years of swimming lessons in the backyard pool and beach hols in France kicked in, as Hermione dove towards Pansy and started to crawl stroke.
"Pansy," she called out, as the other witch's head broke the water's surface. "Calm down, you're going to be alright."
"But…can't swim…help!"
The Slytherin prefect grabbed hold of Hermione's outstretched hand and tried to push her down into the water. It wasn't an atypical reaction to somebody being rescued, and the muggleborn was ready for it…as her head was forced underwater she dropped her feet to the sandy bottom, pushed into Pansy's midsection, and hoisted the Slytherin's body up onto her shoulder.
"Pansy!" she shouted, once her head cleared the surface. "It's shallow water…you can stand in it!"
It took a few moments for the words to sink in, but the Pansy eventually calmed down enough to allow herself to be set feet first back into the water. As promised, her head remained above water when her feet hit the surf-covered sand.
An incoming wave spooked the Slytherin when it splashed against her back, and she clamped her arms tightly around Hermione's neck.
"I've got you," the Gryffindor said, wrapping her arms underneath Pansy's back and legs.
Hermione cradled Pansy against her chest and walked towards the shallows. When the water level dropped below her knees, she gently dropped Pansy's legs, but kept her arm firmly wrapped around the other witch's waist.
"You saved my life," Pansy sputtered, as they walked side-by-side towards shore.
"Not even close to a life-debt, Pansy," Hermione replied. "Let's just say we're even from Potions, okay?"
The Slytherin witch shuddered as water evaporated off of her bared skin.
"Okay," she finally replied, with chattered teeth.
Hermione smiled, thinking of the sight they must be making as they approached the base of the cliffs. What would Harry say if he saw her hugging Pansy Parkinson's side, both dressed in sopping-wet, nearly transparent bras and knickers?
"Alright there, you two?" asked their guide, as she waded towards them.
Hermione nodded.
"Yeah," she thought. "That's exactly what Harry would say."