Chapter 39

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either...just for fun. Once again, what events that are not mentioned that happen in the books is as it happened in the books.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

Hermione trudged down to the dungeons, trying not to think about her detention with Professor Snape. A detention. Not a planned lesson carefully worded to sound like a detention...a detention! She forced herself to think of anything else. Harry was still angry with her over her comments about Draco. There was no proof that Draco was doing anything wrong. Yes, she'd passed him a few times on the stairs either when going to the prefect bath or coming back to her common room, but that didn't mean anything. Draco was taking Alchemy and Arithmancy; Professor Newton's office was on the seventh floor on the south wing because he liked the view, and Professor Vector had her office on the sixth floor, and rumor was he was struggling in both subjects.

Thoughts of Draco led to Harry, which, in turn, led to her annoyance that Harry had arranged a Quidditch practice on the night Slughorn had his dinner party just so he could avoid going.

She had dreaded going to Slughorn's pretentious dinner party, wishing she could use the Quidditch practice as an excuse like Harry and Ginny had, but at least it had given her the opportunity to give Cho the silver rune charm for good fortune she'd bought for her. Cho had been so touched and very understanding about Hermione not knowing about the tradition until this year. The girls had compared bracelets, telling each other which charms came from whom.

But as people started to take their seats, Blaise and Cormac had sat on either side of Hermione, each vying to gain her attention, and Cho was stuck sitting between Blaise and Professor Slughorn. Damayea Vogelli, a very shy Slytherin fifth-year, had sat between Albert Wertheim, a fifth-year Ravenclaw boy, and seventh-year Slytherin, Raymond Aubry, who'd brought Penelope Reilly as his date. Seventh-years, Duncan Inglebee and Jerome Dorny had talked about Quidditch with Kennth Rearick, Blaise and Cho through most of the uncomfortable, formal dinner, but all five boys kept staring at Hermione throughout dinner. In fact, Professor Slughorn had even commented on how pretty Hermione looked, and she'd managed to thank him without rolling her eyes. Except for a touch of mascara and magical, smudge-free lip gloss, she hadn't done much to her appearance, simply put on her cashmere red jumper over her blouse and wore her best black jeans. She hadn't even done much to her hair, except pin it back a bit.

She knew it was because of the Bloom; apparently, she was a long Bloomer, unfortunately. Professor McGonagall had confirmed it over tea the Sunday after Hermione's birthday. Hermione hadn't noticed any change in the boys' reactions at all; they still acted like wet prats or stared at her whenever she was around them.

Hermione entered the dungeons still a little upset with Professor Snape. A detention. He'd actually given her a detention. Seamus, who had been on Hermione's left, had been ogling her in DADA. Instead of blocking Neville's curse as he was supposed to, he'd been watching her and deflected the curse...in her direction! So not only did she have to block Dean's hex that he'd fired at the same time Neville had fired his curse, but she had to block Neville's curse too. Hermione had intentionally increased the strength of her shield to handle both spells and to protect Lavender, who had happened to be standing behind Hermione and Seamus where she'd sparred with Parvati, as well. She honestly hadn't mean to knock over Patricia Burtrand, who had been sparring with Zoe Thornton-Reid next to her. She'd only stopped to apologize and offered the girl a hand up when Professor Snape had barked at her.

Yes, her shield had been strong, and yes, it had been too bright and too large, but she had been protecting two other people! He had promised her back in her fifth year that he would word his intentions carefully to seem like detentions or disciplinary actions to her fellow classmates and so they wouldn't show up in her school records. So much for that promise, she fumed as she knocked on his office door.

The door to the room across the corridor opened, and she inhaled in surprise, feeling a sense of relief as he motioned her inside. Maybe I'm wrong. She hurried into the room, and he closed the door.

"Why was the strength and force of your shield strong enough to blind the entire class?" he snapped as she set down her bag.

She turned to face him. "I had to defend myself from two spells, and Lavender was right behind me...she wouldn't have seen it...she could've been hit," she tried to explain but his jaw was clenched tightly, and his dark eyes were hard with anger.

"No one can fire two spells at once, and I know perfectly well you can defend yourself against consecutive spells," he growled out angrily. "And Longbottom isn't proficient enough to cast effective consecutive spells in quick succession."

"Neville and Dean fired their spells at the same time, and Seamus' attention was...he was distracted...he accidently deflected Neville's curse in my direction," she countered, trying to control her temper. "Lavender was behind me...her back was to us, and Neville's curse could have hit her." He was not being fair. She wasn't Surging anymore. Didn't he know that she did it on purpose?

"So you purposely strengthened your shield far beyond that which was necessary?" he asked, "and therefore endangered another student."

Apparently not. "Yes, I did it on purpose. I purposefully increased my intent and determination to create a shield that would protect Lavender, Seamus and me from Neville's and Dean's curses."

"Mr. Thomas used a hex," he snapped.

So he had been paying attention. "Yes, it was, sir," she said, forcing herself to sound respectful. Getting angry would not help; she needed to be calm and rational. "I reacted in a way I thought best for the situation."

He stood there, watching her. She held her ground, yet tried to keep her expression neutral, to keep her breathing slow and even. She could feel her anger ebb, even under his scrutiny. She did what she thought to be necessary at the time and, if faced in the same situation again, she wouldn't do anything differently. Hermione had apologized to Patricia again at lunch, and she had understood that Hermione hadn't intentionally knocked her down.

"Very well," he finally said. "Today we will be working on your accuracy and magical force."

So much for rewarding back any House points he'd deducted. She turned to look at the dummy standing next to the far wall. He had switched the sparring dummy for a target dummy. The sparring dummy stood in the far corner with a sheet over it, looking like a stiff version of a Muggle ghost costume.

"May I remind you, the target dummy is used to work on accuracy and the force of your hits. White is contact...but no strength, yellow...sufficient impact but low effect, orange...sufficient impact with moderate effect, orange-red is a good, solid strike with optimum effect, and red...damage done or a deathblow. As you know, the strength of the spell will be shown in the indicator on the forehead."

She nodded, remembering the first time he'd shown her the dummies in her fifth year.

"I want you to fire the same spell, five times, each time modifying your strength so as to make the chest glow all five colors. I do want your accuracy rating to be above ninety. You may begin."

Hermione sighed as she nodded and drew her wand.

Their practice time had been delayed tonight; some engagement that had come up, Professor Snape had said in his note, which he needed to attend. She'd spent the time in the library until eight, and then hurried down to see him. As exhausting as these lessons were, they were fun and exhilarating, and she really looked forward to their time together.

He didn't open the door across the hall at her arrival, and his office was empty. Not sure what to do, she opted to wait for him in his office, using her time to work on her Arithmancy essay on Ferris' theory on tri-linear numerical equivalents, which was to be compared to Wentworth's theorem of using equations of equal congruent probabilities to determine logical outcomes.

There was the obvious hole in Ferris' theory which centered on using triad equations for each identifier, in her opinion... but Wentworth's equation of equal congruent probabilities substantiated Ferris' theory. Lai-Sang Young's idea of using equal and congruent lines that can intersect and or pass in tangent to the prime equation and her actual practical application of the calculations disproved Ferris, though.

Hermione frowned. It was a tricky problem, but it was clear that Ferris and Wentworth were not as congruent as most Arithmancers believed, and she thought she saw the discrepancy. She just needed to explain her reasoning and make the calculations work to prove her theory.

She was reading Johann von Reichenburg's method, which used trilateral equations to demonstrate synchronized cuneate probabilities when Severus entered his office.

"What are you working on?" he asked as he approached her, stopping to peer over her shoulder at her book.

"My Arithmancy essay," she replied, looking up at him.

He picked up her rough draft and skimmed through it, shaking his head, nodding, then smirking at her work.

'What?" she asked.

He handed it back. "Ferris was a dunderhead. There is an obvious hole in his theory about using triad equations, if you can find it."

"Wentworth's equation substantiates his ideas, but I think there is a discrepancy that is being overlooked," she said, and he smirked. She felt elated. Is it possible he agrees?

"Did you read Kincaid's principle on parallel versus congruent probabilities with multiple vectors?" he asked, flicking his wand to adjust the chair next to hers, and sitting down. "He clearly disputes both of their theories."

"I haven't, no," she admitted, jotting down the name. She'd have to look him up. "I am considering Johann von Reichenburg's method as his seems to agree with Lai-Sang Young's."

"Scott Macintyre's paper in the Arithmancy journal, Questions for Inquisitive Quanderers, is not as convincing as his book on the practical application of equal congruent probabilities in the determination of life equations, but he's an interesting read."

They sat and talked about the theories at some length, much like they used to when they had both been younger. For Hermione it was marvelous to be able to sit in his office, discussing theory and arguing points of difference with him.

"You should also read Edward Troughton. He presents some valid points and has some interesting arguments on the practical application of the principles, but he's not as accomplished a mathematician as Lai-Sang Young or Johann von Reichenburg." He stood up, all at once resuming his authoritative bearing. "So are you ready to practice?"

"Oh, sorry, right," she stammered as she quickly packed everything into her bag and stood up. "I am now."

Severus held nothing back tonight, as per usual. After a full half hour of target practice, carefully controlling her magic so the chest glowed with the proper color, they squared off against each other for another half hour, and he cast one curse, hex or jinx after another at her, expecting her to deflect or block each one. Then he wanted her to cast them at him, to break through his shields. Not that she could, though to her immense satisfaction, she did make him stumble back from the impact of a few of her hexes.

He was training her to be a fighter, to be able to survive the war. And she was grateful, but by the time he called it a night, she was sweaty and her body hurt. Every muscle cried out as she climbed the stairs, and her back ached.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the sixth floor and turned her head to peer down the corridor. Two of the Ravenclaw prefects were walking toward her for the stairs, most likely heading back to their common room, which meant the bath might be unoccupied since they both had wet hair. She checked her watch and decided to save the time and effort, and simply transfigure her underwear again.

She said her private password, "Snow angels," to the door and smiled when she heard the latch unlock. Hermione was still smiling at Severus' choice of password as she walked to the prefect bath, remembering the day she'd played in the snow with him.

Severus found himself taking the stairs to the Astronomy Tower two at a time. He'd just check if there were any hormonal teens shagging on the tower. He reached the top and found himself alone. He walked to the wide-set crenellations that kept those idiots who came up here from falling to their deaths, placing his hands on the rough stone as he gazed out at the forest. Normally, he avoided spending any amount of time up here, gazing at the outline of the mountains and the dark, forbidding forest, or out across the lake toward Hogsmeade. He shivered. Winter was coming early this year; he could feel the tendrils of cold wrap around him, a frigid wind ruffled his hair and chilled him. Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold...

Lily had loved the views from up here. She would stand close to the edge, lean over and laugh as the wind blew through her hair. He'd always marveled at her courage and recklessness.

No matter how much he'd loved her, she had maintained a distance, withdrawing from him, and the more he'd pursued her, the further and further away she'd seemed. He never understood her attraction to Potter, someone she'd adamantly called a toe rag for five years, but in the end, he'd won her, a boy with bombastic behavior, a malicious bully and an overall arrogant prat.

Of course, Lily had hated the Death Eaters and everything the Dark Lord stood for, and she had never understood Severus' fascination with the Dark Arts. He could never persuade her that he not only understood the Dark Arts, but knew a great many Dark Arts spells...and their counter spells. That's what had fascinated him; the complexity of the Dark Arts and that he could figure out how to reverse the darkest of magic, thus defeating their intent...and therefore defeat the mind that created it.

Her refusal to understand his academic interests was exacerbated by her contempt for his housemates and their repeated taunting and harassment. She hated Severus' association with his housemates; Lily had never forgiven him for becoming friends with his peers in Slytherin, whose association offered him protection and companionship, and for his use of the word 'Mudblood,' a common parlance among Salazar's House...and in fact had become quite commonly used among the discontented pure-bloods.

Those were things Lily just wouldn't forgive.

He berated himself for his inability to release what was lost, and move on with his life. He was stuck, forever accountable for his past errors of judgment, fused to his promise to protect Lily's child and secure Potter's destiny. Bloody Gryffindors and manipulative twinkling-eyed old farts!

His thoughts turned unbidden to Hermione.

They were so alike, Hermione and Lily. Both Lily and Hermione were the brightest students of their year, both kindhearted girls, caring and compassionate toward others. Lily had a natural and intuitive ability at Potions that matched his own and was very adept at Charms; Hermione was very gifted in both Charms and Transfiguration equally, but she also enjoyed the academic challenge of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

Lily had been vivacious, charming and very funny; Hermione was more thoughtful, compassionate, measured and witty. Both were very brave.

Lily had been a popular girl for whom many boys had romantic feelings; Hermione's popularity had been earned slowly as her friends got to know and understand her. Lily hadn't been very forgiving, whereas Hermione tended to be, and Lily couldn't see past her own definitions of what was right or wrong, while Hermione could see the complexity of a person's life and why they sometimes acted as they did.

Lily might even have returned his feelings if he had not become so seriously involved in the Dark Arts. Lily expected everyone to be good, not to fight or harm each other, and to stand up for those who were weaker, which is one reason she was so unforgiving and intolerant of his infatuation of the Dark Arts.

Lily couldn't understand that people could do wrong things for the right reasons; Hermione understood his role as a spy and didn't reject him for it.

Truth was Lily was more intuitive, more introspective than he'd ever seen Hermione be. Both felt compelled to prove themselves as worthy to be in the wizarding world, striving to be the best at everything they did, reading voraciously and wanting to know all there was to know. Hermione just developed her ability to think for herself later than Lily had done.

Severus allowed a small smirk of satisfaction play across his face. He was probably the reason; he'd always forced Lily to think for herself rather than quote the books back at him. But after Hermione had returned from her third time with his teenage self, her work had greatly improved.

He remembered telling Hermione, when she was a little girl trapped in his lab all those years ago, to extrapolate, summarize and hypothesize, to fully explore her own thoughts and opinions, and not just regurgitate the ideas that she had read in books, but give well thought-out opinions and theories on them as well. He chuckled. She tried so hard to please him, to gain his approval...even his teenage self...that she'd taken everything he said to heart and gave it her best.

He stared at the ridgeline of the mountains and frowned. He was not going to brood over that which had been, or the situation which was now held within very strict expiations and guidelines. That was then, this is now, accept it.

He forced himself to think on his other problem...Draco. The boy was avoiding him, and he was nowhere near discovering what this task was that the Dark Lord had given the boy.

He had erected a few pillars in the room, six in all and in no discernible pattern, simply obstacles. They had been sparring for a while now, no-holds barred. "So this is what it's like to be in a wand fight," she said, dropping her shield, quickly deflecting a hex and casting a Stunner at him.

Of course he deflected it. "Hardly," he said smoothly as he fired two quick hexes of his own.

She managed to deflect both, earning a smirk from him. "It's not?"

"No," he said, his arm moving in a graceful, yet fast arch. His Stinging Hex almost made contact, but she deflected it and cast another curse, then created a shield against his jinx.

"But I do well enough against you," she said, firing a hex and immediately deflecting his jinx, then firing again at him.

He chuckled. That arrogant 'you think so' chuckle. "Well, I could," she snapped, deflecting his curse.

"Hardly," he said with a crooked smile, sending two hexes in quick succession.

She cast a shield and lunged to her right, firing at him. "I bet I could."

"Not," he said in that cocky attitude she remembered from when he was sixteen. He was smiling as they fought, actually smiling at her.

"I could, too."

Hermione now understood what Mr. Malfoy had meant when he'd taunted Harry by saying, 'Did you really think that children stood a chance against us.' Not that she'd heard the taunt; she'd never made it as far as the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. But Neville and Colin had told her what he'd said when they'd talked about the events, and subsequent fight, and what happened in the Veil of Death's amphitheater. Harry still hated talking about that day...and with very good reason.

Hermione squared off against Severus in the vast chamber where she and the Slytherin prefects had led the students when Fred and George had set off their now infamous fireworks, and neither she nor her professor were holding anything back, especially him. He had asked her in the beginning when he'd led her to this room if she'd wanted to do this, to really fight, all out, and she'd acknowledged that that was what she wanted. He'd even asked again once they had entered the cavernous room, giving her the option to back out, but she'd wanted to give it a try.

Hermione had quickly found out just how inept at fighting she could be.

Severus was quick and crafty when he fought, and she was dodging and deflecting his spells as best she could, but each time she leaned around a pillar to fire at him, he was not where she thought he would be or he fired at her first. He was wickedly fast and could fire multiple consecutive spells with amazing strength, speed and accuracy, but after the first round when he'd hit her with a Stinging Hex, a Full Body-Bind and then dangled her upside-down by her ankle, he'd only used doubles on her.

As if that made any difference.

She had gained complete control of her magic now, thankfully. Thanks to his help, she now found it easy to moderate her spells, both speed and strength, so that the indicators on the target dummies were indicating the levels of intensity she wanted, but this...this was an entirely different situation. She could feel the rush of her adrenalin, her senses were fully heightened, and she could feel her magic course through her. It was exhilarating while in practice...necessary in a fight to the death.

Not that Severus was trying to kill her.

She dodged a particularly vicious Cutting Hex and corrected herself.

She hoped he was not trying to kill her.

Perhaps she shouldn't have challenged him.

There was a small ding sound before he called out, "Time," his voice echoing slightly.

She placed her hand on the pillar and leaned heavily on her arm. Thank Merlin!

She was sweaty, breathing hard, and her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. Her side hurt from where his Stinging Hex and Stunner had hit her, her leg was sore from the Jelly-Legs Jinx from their second round, and she was still smarting from the first and second Full Body-Bind Curses from the next two rounds. Four out of five. I'm pathetic.

Severus walked toward her, his robes billowing, his lips pulled back in an amused smile. Although he was somewhat shiny in the face and his hair was slightly mussed, he showed no outward appearance of having been in a wand fight... none at all. Even his breathing was normal as far as she could see. And he had that cocky 'I told you so' look on his face. Damn him.

"Do you concede?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Or do you want another round?"

"Yes, fighting you is much different than sparring in the classroom," she replied as she tried to catch her breath.

"Yes, it is, but that was not your challenge, was it?" he asked, watching her.

She hated to admit it, but he was right. "No," she said softly. "You win, you're better than me."

He simply nodded. "Now, once you've caught your breath, I'll show you some wand techniques."

She stood and faced him, eager to find out what he meant.

He laughed, the rich sound echoing in the dark. He conjured a cup and pointed his wand at it, saying, "Aguamenti." Another demonstration of his control, the gentle stream of water emerged from his wand and filled the cup halfway with water without splashing or sloshing all over his hand like hers tended to do. He handed her the cup. "Drink."

"Thank you, sir," she replied before drinking. The water was refreshingly cold.

"When most wizards and witches," he said with a nod in her direction, "begin to learn wand waving, they wave it, flourishing it about in wide ridiculous swirls, swishes and flicks. Few learn how to moderate or tighten up their movements. A flick does not have to be thus." He made a wide flick, exactly as Professor Flitwick had taught them.

Hermione was reminded of his comment about foolish wand waving from her first day of Potions with him and tried not to grin.

"Or a swish," he said, making the familiar move. "One can limit the motion if the intent and determination are strong enough. You have to know you can and do it without having to fully concentrate on the motion. It's like learning how to fence. To really fight, you have to learn how to parry."

Parry? She was surprised to hear the fencing term. Lunge, parry, en garde, feint...

"Prime, wand down and to the inside, wrist pronated. Seconde, wand down and to the outside, wrist pronated. Tierce, wand up and to the outside, wrist pronated. Quarte, wand up and to the inside, wrist supinated. This works best with circular or oval movements. Quinte, wand up and to the inside, wrist pronated. Works best with lateral and circular movements. Sixte, wand up and to the outside, wrist supinated, good for lateral or circular movements. You drop the point and bring it up on the inside, then bring your point back towards the center. If you become proficient with this move you can fire three spells at once."

He repeated the move, this time in slightly slower motion, saying, "flick, swish, or as Professor Flitwick says, 'reverse flick'." He did it again, and she could see the movements now, even though they were really quick.

"Septime, wand down and to the inside, wrist supinated. A semi-circular swish, then point is dropped...a flick, the wrist to the inside...swish as you pronate your wrist with the tip up...flick. Octave, wand down and to the outside, wrist supinated. Point is dropped, bringing the wrist up on the inside, your point back towards your center. And finally Neuvieme, the tip of the wand is on the inside and dropped while the hand is raised. It's used to make two quick consecutive spells and then sweep to create a shield charm."

Hermione wished she had her bag so she could write them all down.

"You don't have to write them down, they are listed in Theory, Techniques and Exercises in Magical Dueling by Imelda Vass and Magical Dueling: Ancient Art and Modern Sport by Clive de Beaumont," he said with a grin. "You can indulge your curiosity about them later. For now, copy me."

She held up her wand and tried to copy him as best as she could. He would stop occasionally, placing his hand on hers to correct her position or movement. Each time, she tried hard to concentrate on what he was saying and showing her, not on the warmth of his touch and the coolness on her skin when he let go.

"Now, I expect you to find the books I mentioned, memorize the motions of the parry, and be ready to duel with me our next meeting in two nights' time. If you can demonstrate them proficiently, I'll give you back ten of the points I deducted from your House today," he said with a quirk of his mouth.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, sir."

"All right," he said with a nod, "go and collect your things."

"Thank you, sir." She turned and walked, a bit hurriedly, from the room. She wanted to take Harry, Neville and Ron to the Room of Requirement to have them practice like she and Severus did, to help them prepare for their part in the war, but the room wouldn't open last night for some reason. At this moment, she was utterly convinced that the guys needed this kind of training.

She checked her watch in the corridor. If she ran, she could go to the library to get the books on fencing, then spend a half hour or so with Harry, Neville and Ron and still have time for her swim. Smiling, she ran all the way up the stairs to the library.

Hermione sucked on the end of her Deluxe Sugar Quill, deep in thought. Slughorn's party had been bearable this time; of course he'd droned on about all the famous people he knew, and he simply fawned over McLaggen, but this time he'd invited Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Of course, that meant that the conversation over dessert focused on Quidditch again. But that wasn't what was occupying her thoughts as she climbed the stairs.

She still couldn't believe that Harry had accused Malfoy of giving Katie the cursed necklace... or having used either Crabbe or Goyle, Imperiused, to do it for him. Even Ron had said that it wasn't a very slick, well thought-out plan of attack.

Leanne, Katie's best friend, had left the Great Hall at breakfast today, looking rather upset, and she'd looked like she'd been crying at lunch. Angelina had said it was because she'd had word from Katie's parents; Katie was still unconscious and unresponsive from the curse on the necklace. Severus had sent a note to Hermione after Potions to cancel their meeting, and he'd been absent from the Great Hall at dinner.

Ron was still quite moody over the fact that Professor Slughorn always treated him as if he was nonexistent. Even in Potions today, Professor Slughorn didn't even bother to check Ron's potion, and it had turned out quite well in Hermione's opinion. It had been more of a brownish-purple than either Harry's or hers, which had come out a rich purple, but Ron's was so much better than some of the others which had turned out like sludge.

Hermione was still miffed at Harry; he was following the scribbling in his book and copying every move she made. He'd added the beetles eyes while stirring, just like she had, and sliced his astragalus roots at an angle, although he'd rinsed them off before adding them, Hermione had rinsed off the roots, cleaning the root thoroughly before slicing them paper thin. Still, how did he know to slice them at an angle?

Neither of them had added the juniper berries. She had stirred the required twenty times and lowered the flame to let it simmer until the end of the lesson. When Professor Slughorn had made his rounds, he'd told Hermione to leave her cauldron on the flame, then told Harry the same and had asked both of them to remain after class. Hermione and Harry were then asked to return tonight at eight to finish their potions...for House points. Hermione thought he was hoping Harry would have then stayed for his party, but Harry, of course, had his lesson with Professor Dumbledore. Much to the professor's dismay over losing Harry as a dinner guest.

How Harry knew about the astragalus root was beyond her. But he'd done the step, and their potions were exactly the same. When they'd gone down to the Potions classroom at eight, Slughorn had been delighted to see them, awarding twenty points each for merely showing up. She'd cut the juniper berries in half, then in slices according to teenage Severus' notes, frowning as Harry did the same. Hermione had asked the professor if she needed to return in nine hours to remove the potion from the flames, and although Professor Slughorn had blanched as he looked at the clock, he'd said not to worry and that he would do it. They had walked up the stairs together, talking about the famous Potioneers Professor Slughorn knew, especially those who had been his students. However, Harry had departed once they reached the fourth floor, albeit too cheerfully, and had run up the stairs to go see the Headmaster.

Hermione was also still angry at Harry for ignorantly trying an unidentified, handwritten spell that someone had made up on Ron, accidentally levitating Ron and hanging him upside down by his ankle. Yeah, Ron thought it was funny now, but it could have been disastrous. Harry had admitted that he'd found the spell, Levicorpus, in his Potions book Saturday at breakfast, and during their break, instead of concentrating on his Transfiguration essay, Ron had explained how the spell was cast, which meant that they had both learned it...to use on other people. Hermione didn't like that spell at all.

She knew that Severus had used it to impede James on their hike so he could immobilize Sirius, but James and Sirius had also used that spell on him when they had attacked him three against one in the forest...the day he was sent to the hospital...when she'd been trapped alone, with no word of what had happened to him, and she'd almost been found by his house mates... And the Death Eaters had used the spell on those Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup. No, she hated that spell.

Not only that, but he'd already used other spells from that bloody book. Harry had used a hex on Crabbe that made his toenails grow extremely fast, and Crabbe had to go to the hospital to have them clipped. Harry had also used a mean little jinx on Filch, who had no defense against magic, that made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth so he couldn't admonish Harry and Ron for whatever they had been doing at the time. And that silencing spell, Muffliato, that made anyone nearby hear an irritating, unidentifiable buzzing in their ears just so you could have a private conversation... No, Hermione didn't much care for this Half-Blood Prince. He was mean, cruel and dodgy if anyone bothered to listen to her. Which, when it came to that book, neither Harry nor Ron did.

Now, on her way back to the common room to change into her swimsuit, here was a third-year using the Toenail-Elongating Curse on another little boy, making him rip off his shoes and socks because his toenails were growing out too fast. Luckily, Altheda Crockford was passing through the Apothecary's portrait and went to get Professor Snape, because Hermione had no idea how to reverse this curse, and she knew that Madam Pomfrey had gone to St. Mungo's this evening and wasn't sure if the Matron Healer had returned.

And poor Filch, only last night Hermione had found him hanging upside-down by his ankle outside a loo. Thankfully, Harry had mentioned that Liberacorpus was the counter-curse, and she'd righted Filch in no time and set him on his feet carefully, receiving an embarrassedly grunted "Thank you," from the old caretaker.

"Burke, Caractacus Burke, of Borgin and Burke's..." Hermione said, speaking her thoughts aloud. Once again, there was a connection to that dodgy shop. After her swim, she'd gone up to Harry's room to hear about his lesson with Dumbledore, but once again was a little disappointed. Of course, the memories were informative in understanding Voldemort, but they hadn't done anything really practical at all.

Hermione had pulled out parchment and quill and made Harry repeat everything he could remember, every detail, even if he didn't think it was important. "It might be, Harry, or the Headmaster wouldn't be spending his evenings showing you these memories." She wrote down the description of Merope's appearance, that she was pregnant and sold Slytherin's locket for only ten Galleons. "Was that all, Harry?"

"Dumbledore said that Voldemort's mum couldn't do magic anymore," he said, staring at the wall.

"She what?" Hermione asked, looking up.

"I dunno," Harry ran his hand through his hair awkwardly, "she... she just sort of dried up, I suppose. Like... she didn't want to use it any more... or couldn't. Dumbledore said that she lost her powers. That her despair caused them to atrophy or something."

Could that happen? She'd have to look that up later. "What happened next?"

Ron opened up a Chocolate Frog, and the frog made one good leap, landing on Hermione's parchment. She picked it up, scowling at the chocolate smear, and handed it back to him.

"What? It got away from me," he said, accepting back his frog.

"Never mind, it's all right," she said. She was going to rewrite it anyway, once they were done. "Go on, Harry, tell me everything you remember, every detail."

Harry repeated what he'd told them the Pensieve figure of Burke said, and about what he'd seen in Dumbledore's memory, and she wrote furiously to get it all down. "He didn't like having the same name as a barkeeper, and he was a loner, went to Diagon Alley by himself...he didn't want Dumbledore's help at all."

"What else?" she urged as she finished writing out the last bit he'd said.

"He liked being special...different, Dumbledore said notorious, I think. That was important to him," Harry said, staring at nothing in particular, and by his distant gaze and his tone, she knew that he was trying to recall everything of import. "Dumbledore said his magic was surprisingly well-developed...he had control over his magic...he used it to hurt and manipulate people, to make them do things, and he collected objects."

Hermione looked up, confused.

"He stole things and kept them as trophies."

"Okay, I got you," she mumbled as she quickly added that to what she'd written. Ron sat munching on his Chocolate Frog, listening intently.

"He was secretive, friendless and preferred to do things alone. Dumbledore said that even though the Death Eaters claim to have his confidence, that they are close to him or are his favorites, he doesn't think that's the case. He said that he thinks they are deluded."

Hermione finished the last bit and looked up, surprised. "He could be right, Harry."

"Oh, and I also noticed that the ring was gone, the one that hurt his hand," Harry said, and she bit her lip, confused. It had been in Professor Snape's office, she was sure it was, but she didn't say anything.

"Here are the books I want you to review," Professor Snape said, opening his drawer. He moved something aside and pulled out a sheet of parchment. Hermione was curious about the ring she saw, the one with a black stone that rolled off the parchment as he withdrew the parchment from the drawer, but she didn't ask him about it. However, it matched the one Harry described exactly: a gold men's ring inset with a large, cracked, black stone with lines on it. Only she saw that it had what looked like a triangle around a circle with a line through it... The lines were not a crest at all, but deep scratches carved into the stone...

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, closing his drawer with unnecessary force...

But she did write down the ring she saw in great detail on her parchment now.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

"What?" she replied, busily finishing writing down her observation.

"What are you writing?" Ron asked.

"What Harry said about the ring." There. Done. She looked up, wondering why Severus had it if the curse had been broken... Unless the curse hadn't been broken on the ring...?

"Why?" Harry asked.

"What if the curse on the necklace was similar to the one on the ring? The one you said damaged the Headmaster's hand." Would he have wanted to compare the items? It was possible... She added her theory in case it was important.

Harry bristled, inhaling before he said, "But Draco gave the necklace to Katie..."

"Draco was not in Hogsmeade," she said and looked up.

"... or had an accomplice do it for him, then."

"We have no idea...no evidence at all that Draco was involved with the necklace. Consider the facts, Harry. I saw it in Borgin and Burkes' after Draco had left the shop, and with the extra security measures this year, Filch's checking everything and everyone that enters the castle with his probes, and the owl post is being checked. It is highly unlikely Draco ever had the necklace.

Harry looked away, crossing his arms angrily.

She had to think this out rationally...logically. "I'm not discounting you, Harry, but really, it's a question of there being a means, a motive and an opportunity...the three aspects of a crime needed to convict someone. Yes, Draco has the means, sort of. I mean, he could have afforded to buy the necklace...but he would have had to have bought it before school. He might have left the school grounds for London, but he'd have been in serious trouble if he had. Now, yes, it's possible someone bought it for him... even his mother... His mum could have somehow... or some other Death Eater..." Bloody hell! Bugger. His mother or father could have. "But then how did she get it to Katie in the girls' bathroom of the Three Broomsticks? Neither Draco nor his mum were in the Tree Broomsticks, and neither of them would've just left it lying around now, would they?"

Harry scowled, and Ron frowned in contemplation, biting off the leg of his second frog. "Don't recall anyone dodgy in there, mate, except for Dung, and he was leaving, wasn't he? It was mostly students in there, and the Malfoys...they kind of stick out."

"But what motive did they have?" she continued, thinking it out aloud rationally. "Why harm Katie? Unless it was as you said, to have Katie give it to Dumbledore, making him a target. So yes, I will agree that there is motive; however, the means still don't necessarily point to Draco. And then there is the question of opportunity...Draco didn't have an opportunity to give Katie the necklace...he was here, with Professor McGonagall, in detention, remember? He wasn't in Hogsmeade."

"That wouldn't matter if mummy or daddy did it for him, would it?" Ron pointed out, getting a satisfied grin and a nod from Harry.

Hermione set down her quill. "All right," she admitted. "It is possible he could have had help. His mother could have bought it for him, but she wasn't in the Three Broomsticks... that we know of..." Now there was a scary thought. Mrs. Malfoy could have easily done this: she had means, motive, and it isn't too farfetched to come up with an opportunity. To do this for Draco...

Harry now looked positively smug, obviously feeling vindicated that his theory had merit. The fact that he could be right after all was something that Hermione was feeling rather apprehensive about now.

"But now we're accusing Mrs. Malfoy of this," she pointed out, "not Draco."

Harry's shoulders sagged, and Ron bit off the last leg of his chocolate frog.

~ T. B. .C. ~

Author's Notes:

Severus' quote, 'Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold,' is from John Keats' poem, The Eve of St. Agnes, The Poetical Works of John Keats. 1884. http://www.bartleby.com/126/39.html

Information on the wand movements comes from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parry_(fencing)

In case you recognized the books Severus mentions, they are borrowed:

C. L. de Beaumont is President of the AFA, and wrote, Fencing: Ancient Art and Modern Sport, published in 1960. Theory, Methods and Exercises in Fencing was written by Ziemowit Wojciechowski in 1980.