Changing Times

Chapter Two – Changing Times

A few days later, Hermione found herself back in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom's smile seemed less forced this time, and he professed himself more than willing to hold her mail for her. She'd given notice to her landlord and the utilities, and had most of her belongings packed up. So much was easy.

It had been hard to tell Zack that she'd taken another job. She'd really enjoyed working for him. He'd grinned, waved his ubiquitous slide-rule, and wished her the best of luck. "If your new boss needs a reference, Hermione, you send him to me. I'll be sure to set him straight." He'd also given her three days off – with pay.

After settling her business with Tom, a thought struck her, and she made her way to Gringotts. The goblins there were more than happy to change some money into a small pile of Sickles and Knuts. She grimaced; the exchange rate was not the best. As he pushed the coins across the counter, the goblin said, "Does Miss Hermione Granger wish to inspect her vault?"

She stared. "I don't have a vault here anymore."

"Wishing to differ, Miss. It was opened two days ago for you." He held out a small key to her. Not knowing what else to do, she took it. It was gold, like most Gringotts keys, and a tiny red ruby was set into it.

"Who opened it?"

The goblin shuffled through the drawers of his desk, extracting a roll of parchment with the Hogwarts seal. "The vault was opened in your name by the Exchequer of Hogwarts. The sum of one hundred Galleons was deposited." He showed her the parchment. There was a further notation that this was her wages for the summer. Her next payday would be the first of September.

"I'd like to see it, please." Hermione hated riding down to the vaults. They always made her a little queasy and made her wish for Dramamine. She swallowed hard as the cart lurched to a halt in front of an intricate door carved with a crouching lioness. She handed the key to the goblin, who touched it to the big cat's nose. The lioness turned and looked directly at Hermione and gave a deep rumbling purr of approval as the door slid open.

The money was there in ten neat stacks. She picked up fifteen Galleons and closed the door. The lioness purred once more and returned to her former crouch. "I've never seen a vault like that one," she said, not really expecting an answer. "Harry doesn't have a fancy door like that."

"Reserved for Hogwarts staff, Miss." They rode back up to the main bank level in silence.

Five Galleons went for new wizard clothes. Teachers could wear whatever they wanted, but she wasn't exactly a teacher. Thus: two sets of sober black robes, just like she'd worn as a student – only slightly higher quality. She spent another two Galleons at the bookstore, picking up a secondhand copy of Aston Medgewick's Potions From Down Under. Early summer was always a slow time in Diagon Alley, and the shopkeepers were glad to have her custom. Most didn't seem to recognize her. She made a neat bundle of her purchases and left them with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, being sure to leave him a respectable tip. Then she threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "Hogsmeade!" A minute later, she was walking up the path that led to her old school. She could've Apparated, but it had been a fair number of years. She felt out of practice.

As she'd expected, the school was nearly deserted. As she approached, she noticed the signs of rebuilding and repairs still – new stone mingled with the old, healing damage done during the war. Ravenclaw Tower had been restored to its former glory. And, yes, the doors leading to the Great Hall had been rehung. It had been sad to see them hanging crazily from their bronze hinges.

"Miss Granger, is it?"

She turned at the familiar voice. "Mr. Filch, sir."

The caretaker was slightly more stooped and gnarled these days. But what was shocking was the relatively friendly expression he wore. She couldn't help her stare of confusion. "Glad to see yer, Miss. Professor Snape said yer might come by."

"Errm, yes. Did he tell you that he's offered me a job?"

"Yes'm. He's told me to let yer pick out rooms and set 'em up for yer."

"Did Professor Snape suggest anything in particular?"

Filch nodded. "He said yer'd want someplace quiet, but not in th' dungeons. There's a set of room in th' back corridor he thought would suit." The old man grinned. "Can show 'em to yer, if yer like."

"I'd love to see them."

It was a magnificent set of rooms, she had to admit. The door to the corridor opened into a large central room. Off that central room were four other doors, two on each side. One led to a small half-bath, one to a kitchenette, one to the master bedroom suite, and the last to a short hallway with three other rooms and a full bath – tailor-made for bedrooms and a playroom for the boys. The master bedroom was shaped like an L with the entry on the short leg. That would make a marvelous workspace, and her actual sleeping area could be set up around the corner. She did some more poking around and found that the master bedroom had its own full bath attached. All the bedrooms had windows overlooking the lake.

"This is lovely," she told Filch, who'd watched her explore the place. "All it needs is some furnishings. Are all the staff rooms this nice?"

"Some are. Professor Snape, his rooms're just as big, but in the dungeons, so they're darker. Professor McGonagall – her suite's over her office, same as when Albus was here. An' so on. Me, I've got rooms like this, an' I rattle around in 'em all by m'self. Ain't the same since Mrs. Norris died."

Hermione filed that away for future reference. Argus had truly loved his mangy old furball. Maybe she should get him a kitten. "I'll be moving in over the next two or three days," she said. "I'll keep the boys on as tight a leash as I can."

"Pssh. They're half Weasley. They're going to be trouble. I've still got those manacles in my office if yer want to borrow 'em." But it was said with a smile.

She smiled back. "Are any of the other faculty and staff here?"

Filch pulled his beard in thought. "Lessee... Professor McGonagall's over at her family's place near Aberdeen. Professor Snape's knockin' about somewhere. Like as not, in his lab. Madam Pomfrey's up in the infirmary, cleanin' up and restockin' for the next term. Oh, an' Professor Sprout's reseedin' the Quidditch pitch with new grass. That's about it – they'll start tricklin' in closer to term."

"I think I'll find Professor Snape and get a better idea of what he expects. Thank you again for showing me the rooms." She gave once last look around the rooms, still smiling. They were gorgeous.

"What about furniture? Yer got everything yer need?"

"I thought I'd see what I needed after I got what I have moved in." But now she was thinking about it. "I'll need a desk at least. Rugs in the smaller rooms. I'll let you know more tomorrow."

He nodded. "If yer comin' back tomorrow, I can take yer around the storerooms. Yer shouldn't wait till the last minute. Got two other new teachers movin' in next week. Why should they get the pretties, eh?"

That made her laugh aloud. "So you think I should get first pick?"

He gave her a lopsided shrug. "Yer were kind to me – never made fun of me fer bein' a Squib. Rather see the nice stuff go to yer and yers."

"I'll come back tomorrow then and look over things. If you don't mind, I'd like to bring the boys along." She felt constrained to explain. "They'll be easier to handle if they're at least a little familiar with the school."

"Sure, sure. We'll herd 'em along." He gave her a sketchy wave and shuffled off down the hall.

Hermione shut the door to her new rooms quietly and went off in search of her new boss. She found him 'knockin' about' in his lab, as Filch had suggested. He was obviously intent on the potion he was brewing, his concentration entirely focused on the mortar and pestle held in his long elegant hands. The sleeves of his robe were rolled up above his elbows to keep them out of the way. She waited until he added the precisely measured contents of the mortar to the cauldron set up near his desk and gave it a careful stirring before tapping diffidently on the doorframe.

His head whipped around, his scowl easing as he recognized her. "Miss Granger. Good."

"I came here to discuss my work in a little more detail. If you're busy, I can come back."

"I've just finished everything for today but the simmering." He adjusted the heat under his cauldron and sat down, gesturing for her to sit also. "I usually spend part of the summer brewing various things for the infirmary – Skele-gro, Bruise-begone, and the like. As they keep well, it's a good time to stock up for the coming term. We'll be doing that once you start here."

It was scut-work of a sort, Hermione noted, but then she hadn't been near a cauldron in several years. She sat down across from him. "You're easing me back into brewing potions – refreshing my memories while having me do something useful at the same time."

"Exactly. Your techniques may have suffered during your absence. We will start with potions where absolute precision is not mandatory. When I am satisfied that you remember and can apply what you were taught, we will move on."

She nodded. "That makes a lot of sense. And so does stocking up on the potions that keep well. I'm planning to move in over the next two days." A beat. "Mr. Filch showed me the rooms you'd suggested. They're exactly what I needed. Thank you."

He shrugged. "They've been standing vacant for years – ever since the Veridians moved to Germany." He noticed her perplexed look. "Pindar Veridian was a former groundskeeper. He and his family occupied those rooms. He was Hagrid's direct predecessor, if memory serves me."

She regarded her new boss for a moment. Snape was still razor thin, but now it was the look of whipcord over steel, rather than the half-starved appearance he'd worn when she'd first met him. In fact, given that his jet-black hair showed no signs of silvering, he actually looked younger now than he had during the fighting with Voldemort. "You've changed, sir."

He snorted inelegantly. "I see no need to treat you like a student."

"I was more thinking that peace agrees with you."

"It does." Snape leaned back against his desk. "Teaching is considerably less stressful than spying." The half-light from the torches threw his features into sharp relief, emphasizing his strong resemblance to a raptor.

And to someone else, Hermione realized. "You're related to Argus Filch, aren't you?"

That brought him back on his feet. "Yes. He is my cousin." He gave her his most forbidding look. "Minerva knows, but no one else. Argus and I prefer it that way."

She took the hint and changed the subject, her mind busy making various connections with this new information. "The boys will like it here, I think."

"I think," he said slowly, "that there are worse places to raise a child than this school." He was going to say more, but was interrupted by a barn owl that flew through the door hooting madly. "Pardon me a moment." He deftly caught the owl and retrieved the note tied to its leg. "Miss Granger, there are owl treats in that box, yes, there. Thank you." The owl transferred itself to his desk and began eating.

Hermione watched his expression darken as he read the note. Anger. Something more. She'd recognized Minerva's seal. Still, he hadn't asked her to leave.

"You should read this." He thrust the parchment at her, his scowl now firmly in place. It was a short note from Minerva, as she'd expected.

Severus,

Remus Lupin died this morning in Aberdeen. According to his mediwitch, it was chronic argent poisoning. He wanted to be buried at Hogwarts, so I'm bringing him home. We'll be there tomorrow. The wake will be held on the 15th.

Please make sure that all the staff know and handle the arrangements.

M.

"Chronic argent poisoning?" she asked. "Remus was careful to stay away from anything silver."

Snape looked like he'd bitten into a particularly sour lemon. "Trust the werewolf to make trouble for me even after he's dead. The only one of those four who didn't do that to me was Pettigrew, and he caused me plenty of trouble while he was alive." He looked up at her. "So, my assistant, do you know anything about wizard wakes?"

Hermione swallowed her inclination to jump to Remus' defense. "A little. I've attended several. What do you need me to do?"

"You write a fair hand as I recall. Please send owls to those of the staff who aren't here – that's everyone but myself, Pomona, Minerva of course, Poppy, and Argus. Let them know about Lupin, and ask that they return to Hogwarts by tomorrow evening. Hogwarts letterhead for those owls." He opened a drawer in his desk and handed her several sheets of parchment with the familiar shield at the top. "Then please inform Poppy, Argus, and Pomona. Any questions?"

"Do you have a current roster of the Hogwarts staff?" She reddened. "I've been out of touch and don't know who's teaching what anymore."

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "Apologies, Miss Granger. I should've remembered. You don't have an office yet either."

"I can work here."

"As you will." He fished around in his desk and extracted a small book. "Here is the Hogwarts Roster. It's spelled to keep current. I'm sure Minerva will get you a copy when she returns."

"Thank you, sir." She set up her supplies on the lab counter and began writing. "How do you want these signed?"

"Sign them with your name, for S. Snape, Deputy Headmaster, etcetera." He went back to covering a parchment with his spidery script.

The faculty had changed considerably since she'd been a student, she noted as she flipped through the roster book curiously. This was a good way to get to know her coworkers, though not the way she would've chosen. She was almost startled to find her own name leaping out at her.

Hermione Granger

Potions Assistant

Currently at: Hogwarts

Office: None

Quarters: Back corridor, first floor.

She turned back to the first page and began writing out a formal salutation to Professor Morgan Athelstan, the Charms teacher, taking more than her usual care with her penmanship. That letter was relatively easy to write, as was the one to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Carson Bourke. It was harder to write to Lavender Brown – her former classmate was now interning with Professor Trelawney. It also felt quite odd to write to Rolanda Hooch; she'd never known the Quidditch coach's first name.

An hour later, the letters were written. She looked up at her boss who was still bent over his desk, his quill scratching across yet another parchment. He wasn't using the Hogwarts letterhead, she noticed. Instead, his personal sigil graced each page. As she watched, he set the quill down and leaned back with a sigh. "Finished, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir." She handed him the letters she'd written.

He nodded in approval as he rose. "Thank you. I'll take these to the Owlery and get them sent off. I'd like you to select an office as soon as possible." He gave her a brief nod and strode off.

She took a long breath and went off in search of her coworkers to give them the news. She found Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary as she'd expected. The mediwitch had never been one of her favorite people while at school; she had always seemed overly fussy. Now, as a parent, Hermione understood why she double-checked and triple-checked medications and why she was so particular about recording everything.

Poppy was almost devastated when Hermione told her of Remus' death. She sank into a chair, tears tracking down her cheeks. "That poor man. He was so kind, so gentle. Wouldn't hurt anyone." She blew her nose inelegantly, which somehow made Hermione warm to her even more. "And poisoning! Who'd want to poison Remus?"

A good question, Hermione thought to herself. "I don't know, Poppy, but I'm willing to bet that Minerva is going to do her best to find out."

That evening at dinner, Hermione broached the subject of moving to her sons. She still wasn't sure how she'd explain the wizarding world to them, but had decided to deal with one thing at a time.

"Art, Tom, I have some news for you. We're going to be moving."

The twins looked at each other with big eyes, then back at her. "Moving?" Art asked.

"Where?" Tom pushed away his plate. "Don't wanna move."

She firmly returned Tom's plate to its proper place in front of him. "We're moving to a castle called Hogwarts. You'll like it there."

"Castle?" they both asked. Then Tom continued, "Does it have a dawbij?"

That took her a moment to parse. "No, it doesn't have a drawbridge. It's got big towers, and a lake. Want to see?"

Tom nodded energetically, and Art banged his spoon enthusiastically on the table. Hermione got up and brought over an envelope full of pictures; she'd unearthed them during the packing. She opened it slowly and pulled out the one she was looking for. It showed Hogwarts Castle towering above the lake on one of those bright evenings where everything is silvered by the moonlight and looks magical. She'd chosen that one to start with as it was a Muggle photograph that Colin had taken for her.

"That's pretty!" Art said, reaching for it with fingers liberally coated with his dinner.

"Not till you've washed your hands, young man." Hermione put the picture away and pulled out some more.

A picture of Hogsmeade on a winter night, taken from up on the hill by the Shrieking Shack. Snow frosted the street and rooftops, and lamps glowed in the windows of the houses.

"That's not a castle!" Tom objected.

"I know. This is Hogsmeade. This is a town near the castle."

The Great Hall, caught in a rare moment when no one else was there. Colin had captured the sheer magnificence of the room without emphasizing the ceiling and floating candles, though the latter were clearly visible in the picture.

Hagrid's hut, a picture taken in the autumn and featuring two of his enormous pumpkins.

"Mum! The candles!" Art pointed to the picture of the Great Hall.

"They're floating," Tom gasped.

"Yes, they're floating," she said in a matter of fact tone. "It's magic."

"Like in Peter Pan?"

"And Narnia?"

"Yes, like that. But... magic isn't just in books." Hermione privately was very thankful that she'd never tried to tell them otherwise. "Not everyone can do magic. It's a very special gift."

"Can you do magic, Mum?"

"Can we?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes. When you're older, you will be able to do magic."

"I'm old enough," Tom asserted.

"Me too!"

Now she grinned and ruffled their hair. "Not yet. Soon." And I'll bloody kill Snape if he's wrong about them being wizards. Slowly and painfully.

"Mum, can you do magic?" Art asked.

"Yes. But not here. Not now." She gave them the look that meant this was non-negotiable. "We're going visit the castle. If you're good, I'll show you some magic while we're there."

"When do we move?"

"Soon. Possibly tomorrow evening. Otherwise, the day after."

It wasn't until the boys were settled into their beds for the night – a task made harder by their anticipation of the visit to Hogwarts – that she let herself grieve for Remus. She hadn't wanted to break down in front of Professor Snape. Now she buried her face in her hands and wept quietly. The werewolf had never been anything but kind to her. She couldn't blame him for an honest mistake.

For the first time, she realized that she'd almost certainly see Ron at Remus' wake. The thought made her stomach churn. The boys didn't remember him at all, and she'd told them that she had no idea where their father was. Now things would be more complicated.

For a moment, she thought about contacting Professor Snape and saying that she'd changed her mind. Zack would probably hire her back. If he hadn't replaced her already. Then she scrubbed fiercely at the tear streaks on her face. That bastard she'd married was not going to keep ruining her life.

And he wouldn't keep her from attending Remus' wake either. He'd either ignore her or cause a scene – probably the latter, if he thought he could get away with it. She chewed thoughtfully on a hangnail and decided to see if Ellie would watch the boys during the ceremony. As for Ron, she'd ignore him. Satisfied, she turned out the lights and went to bed.

The next morning, the twins were up far earlier than normal. Ignoring their breakfasts, they kept up a non-stop stream of chatter about the castle. Hermione finally plunked them down in their chairs and told them if they didn't eat, they would never get to see Hogwarts. Suitably chastened, the boys made respectable inroads on their cereal and milk while their mother ate her own breakfast.

Neatly dressed, and with faces and hands free of any traces of their breakfasts, Art and Tom presented themselves to Hermione promptly. After twitching a comb through their hair – an art they still hadn't mastered – she pronounced them all ready and they set off.

The Underground was still an adventure for the twins. They enjoyed the roaring of the engines and the clatter as the train rumbled along the tracks, and Hermione wondered what they'd think of the Gringotts carts. They got off the train at Charing Cross Road, and Hermione led them up the street toward the Leaky Cauldron. She was raising her hand when the door opened and a vaguely familiar figure stepped out.

"Harry?"

He turned, and a smile broke over his face as he recognized her. "Hermione! What brings you this way?" He looked down at the boys. "They've grown since the last time I saw them."

"It's been a while," she answered quietly without censure. "I'm fine. We're on our way to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" A number of expressions flitted over his face. "So you're coming back?"

"Yes, and I'd rather not talk about it in the middle of the street," she said pointedly.

"Errm, yes." Another glance at the twins. "Ginny will be glad to hear it. She's missed you."

"Give me a week to get settled in at Hogwarts, then come by."

"Hogwarts?" he queried again.

"We're going to live at Hogwarts," Art declared.

"It's a castle," Tom added helpfully.

She began chivvying the boys through the door. "I've accepted a job there," she called over her shoulder. "I'll talk to you next week!"

Tom gave her a smile as they passed by, but said nothing. She led the boys out into the alley and pulled out her wand. Like it was yesterday, the pattern of opening the secret door came back to her. The boys gasped in amazement, and only a quick grab at their respective collars kept them from hurtling willy-nilly down Diagon Alley.

"Hold on now!" she exclaimed. "You remember the rules when we go places. Stay close and hold on to me."

"Aww, Mum!" But they settled into walking beside her, and she led them down the street. Their progress was somewhat hampered by the barrage of questions and the almost continual rubbernecking. Hermione stood it with good grace; they'd get used to it. She gave them a longish tour of the street and shops, and finally decided they were ready to handle the Floo network.

As they were retracing their steps back toward the Leaky Cauldron, a faded voice called, "Miss Granger!"

She turned to see Mr. Ollivander standing in front of his shop waving at her. She'd pointed it out to the boys when they went by the first time, but hadn't gone in. She crossed the street again, so they wouldn't have to shout. "Mr. Ollivander, sir."

"I am pleased to see you again," he said. "All three of you." He gave the boys a wintry smile. "I will be making new wands soon and will keep your needs in mind."

She stared. "They won't be starting school for some years, Mr. Ollivander."

"True, true. And so they should not have normal wands. But I do make wands for young wizards as well, wands that will help them learn to focus their magic."

"A wand?" Art interjected. "How do you make a wand?"

"I'm a wizard!" Tom crowed. "I'm a wizard!"

"Enough!" Hermione said a bit sharply. "Art, Tom, this is Mr. Ollivander. Sir, this is Art, and this is Tom."

The wandmaker shook hands solemnly with the twins. "You will be strong wizards, and you will need strong wands to match yourselves. I look forward to seeing you again." He nodded to Hermione and returned to his shop.

"He's nice," Tom opined.

"And he said we'll be strong wizards!"

"Yes, he did." Hermione felt intensely relieved by this independent verification of Snape's spell. "Come on, now. We've more to do."

She led them back into the Leaky Cauldron and waved to Tom as she chivvied the boys over toward the fireplace. Fortunately, it was just... barely... big enough for three. "Now listen carefully," she said. "This fireplace is sort of like the wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It connects to more of the wizarding world."

"How's it work?" Tom asked. "The wardrobe only works if you're hiding from someone."

"That would be very inconvenient, wouldn't it?" At their nods, she grinned. "We wizards and witches have a better way." She took a pinch of Floo powder from the box on the mantle and showed it to them. "We toss this into the fireplace, and it turns on. Now it's kind of scary looking, but it doesn't hurt."

The boys exchanged wary glances. "Then what happens?"

"We step into the fireplace, and I will say the name of the place we want to go. We don't want to confuse the magic, so only one of us should do the talking. And we'll all need to hold onto each other. Ready?"

They nodded, and she exchanged her pinch of powder for a handful and threw it into the fireplace. Art yelped and Tom covered his eyes as the green flames roared up the chimney.

"Come on now." She took their hands. "Remember, hold tight and let me do the talking." She half-tugged them into the fireplace. "Hogsmeade!"

They all emerged in the Three Broomsticks, coughing a bit, and Hermione sneezed twice. "Well? We're here."

Tom opened his eyes and looked around. "That was fun!"

"Mum, can we do it again? Please?"

Well, why not. They weren't in that much of a hurry. She let Art take them back to Diagon Alley, and Tom brought them back to Hogsmeade. They were all liberally covered with soot and cinders by the time they left the Three Broomsticks and headed up the path toward the school.

The boys were suitably impressed with their first view of the castle, stopping dead in their tracks and gasping. From a distance, the mostly-repaired damage was invisible.

"Is that it?" Tom asked.

"Wow!" Art contributed.

"That's Hogwarts," Hermione confirmed. "That's where we'll be living."

As they approached the school, Sybil Trelawney looked down at them from her tower. Hermione Granger wasn't her favorite person – the audacity of walking out of class still rankled the Divination teacher. She stared off into nothingness for a moment, then came to herself and stood up. "So much to do! Must make ready for the wake!" Behind her a scrap of parchment covered with her graceful script fell to the floor.

King and Knight, forever twined,

King and Knight, by fate unkind,

Birth denied by blood and bone,

Now they come to claim their throne.