Chapter 9

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Chapter 9

Hermione was fit to return to lessons by the end of the first week of school to the enthusiastic welcome of her housemates. No one knew that she was a Necromancer thanks to the Ministry being unwilling to cause pandemonium by including that information on the wanted posters featuring her. A few people had asked her why the Minister wanted her to be answered that she'd 'accidentally' kneed him in the groin. The new first years appeared to be just as scared of her as they had been of Harry the previous year, but after Ron had repeatedly told her exactly how scary she was over the years, that didn't faze her much.

She had managed to avoid many places where people had died, with Gryffindor Tower being completely free of them, thankfully, along with the main corridors.

They were running late to breakfast on Friday morning when Hermione's stress manifested itself rather unfortunately. The stone floor around her and the staircase in front suddenly iced over. Hermione had not been any good whatsoever at ice skating in her childhood and found that this had not changed at all. Her legs flew out from under her, and her lunge for the banister caused her to slip forwards. She missed the banister entirely, falling head over heels down the flight of stairs to land in an undignified heap at the bottom.

"Fuck! Is it too much to ask for the bloody floor not to turn against me too? Whatever bloody fucking demon was responsible for Necromancy, I'll ram its buggering pitchfork so far up its arse it'll have another set of horns! Ah, fucking hell, it hurts..." Hermione's stream of invectives completely stunned her best friends, as they gaped down at her from the top of the stairs. She cradled her left arm, possibly broken from where she'd hit the stairs in an attempt to shield her head. She'd have several nasty bruises, that was for sure.

"Hermione..." Ron said weakly, shaking his head in disbelief. "If I hadn't heard that with my own ears, I'd never believe you knew how to swear." Harry followed him down even as the ice vanished without a trace. "You alright?"

"Do I bloody well look alright?" Hermione snarled, gingerly getting to her feet. At least neither of her legs were broken, although her knees threatened to give out from under her. She pulled her wand out, feeling some relief that it hadn't broken in her fall. "Ferula," she muttered, conjuring a splint for her injured arm.

"Er, 'Mione, don't you think you should visit the hospital wing?" Harry asked, bending down to pick up her book bag.

"No, not if I want breakfast. Come on. We're late enough as it is." She took her book bag and slung it over her right shoulder, ignoring Harry's protests that one of them should carry it for her.

By the time Hermione had hobbled to the Great Hall, they had just under five minutes to eat something before they had to leave to get to their first lesson. The moment Hermione stepped through the doors, gasps echoed around the cavernous room, along with stifled exclamations. Hermione looked up at the ceiling to find that the enchantment had failed. She stepped back into the entrance hall and found that she had to be the cause as it once again gave the impression of being invisible, displaying the dull skies with threatening rain clouds. An exasperated breath escaped her lips as she marched back in, her approach to her house table only spoiled by her slight limp with every other step. No one was watching her, though, all eyes being fixed on the ceiling or on their food.

"Huh. I wonder what's up with the ceiling. The only other time it looked like this was the leaving feast after Cedric Diggory was killed," Ginny Weasley murmured, leaning across the table to direct the comment to Hermione, in the hopes that the Brain of Gryffindor would know.

Hermione glared up at the ceiling, resenting the additional reminder of her unnatural powers. As if she needed one after the icy floor. "I'll explain later," she said shortly, knowing that Ginny could be trusted with such sensitive information as to what she was.

She felt the prickling sensation on the back of her neck that usually meant that she was being watched. Hermione looked up, her eyes sweeping the room to find three sets of eyes from the Head Table meeting her gaze as it swept past. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape were all watching her, most likely having connected the faulty enchanted ceiling with her. Hermione looked away, her cheeks flushing. 'They don't look happy. I hope the ceiling isn't an indicator of any other fault with the castle, like the wards! The sooner I get these powers of mine under control, the better. But from where do I learn how?'

Having washed a couple of slices of toast down with a goblet of what had been pumpkin juice before she'd transfigured it into coffee, Hermione trailed after the boys on the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. She'd missed the first lesson and only hoped that it hadn't been anything too vital. Just before she reached the classroom, a hand clamped down on her shoulder, bringing her to an abrupt halt in the corridor.

"Miss Granger, while I do realise that you are eager to return to your lessons, you are not in any shape to practice duelling. Or is that splint just for decoration?" The dry tones of Severus Snape came from just behind her, the use of her surname a reminder that they were not alone.

"No, sir. But I've already missed at least one of your lessons, and I'd rather not miss another," Hermione said, turning in order to meet his gaze.

"You have ten minutes to return here from the hospital wing. Return in time and I'll allow you to stay." Severus gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the main staircase. She stood a good chance of returning in time if Madam Pomfrey was not busy with another unfortunate student, as the hospital wing was just one floor up from the Defence classroom.

Madam Pomfrey was not amused to see her so soon and subjected Hermione to a scolding as she patched up her arm and various bruises. The mediwitch was obviously tempted to keep her from returning to her lessons for the day, but relented. "I've seen more of you than any other student currently in this castle, Hermione Granger. That includes Potter. Be off with you!"

Hermione arrived at the Defence classroom with minutes to spare, slipping in to the seat Harry had saved for her without interrupting Severus's lecture too much.

"We covered non-verbal spells last time. I just hope Snape doesn't pick on you!" Harry whispered.

"Right. That shouldn't be a problem." Even as Hermione spoke, it was obvious that Severus was going to use her to make an example.

"Miss Granger, come here." Hermione obeyed his command, stepping up onto the duelling circle he had been lecturing from. "You missed the first lesson on the use of non-verbal spells in duels. Have you any faith in your ability to do so without the benefit of a lesson?" At Hermione's hesitant nod, she could see his lips twitch with the hint of a smile. "Very well. Let's see if you can put theory into practice; the rest of your house failed completely."

Hermione caught sight of the anticipation on the faces of the Slytherins and on some of the Gryffindors. The majority of the school would probably love it if someone could cut her down to size, even if that someone was the most reviled teacher in the place.

She pulled her wand out, the vibration of the wood under her hand reminding her to be careful. It wouldn't do to blast Severus into next week if she could possibly help it.

Teacher and student assumed the customary duelling stance, ten paces apart. Hermione decided to give the pureblood supremacist idiots like Malfoy a surprise and lowered her body in a graceful formal curtsey of the exact prescribed depth for a man of Severus's standing. Severus almost forgot to incline his head in return, apparently almost as taken aback as anyone else in the room with sufficient knowledge of formal Wizarding society. Hermione straightened up, wand held at the ready. Severus mirrored her position.

Severus gave her no warning, firing off jinxes silently. Having learned from her mistake in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione automatically ducked, dropping to the floor and rolling to her feet a few metres from her original position.

"While adequate, your avoidance mechanisms are not under test. Stand your ground and conjure a shield, silently." Severus cast another round of jinxes; a shower of red sparks fast heading in her direction. Hermione held out until the last possible moment to get the maximum ricochet effect.

'Protego!' Hermione thought, obviously with a little too much force, as Severus's jinxes rebounded violently, ricocheting around the room, hitting many of the observing students and causing the majority of the class to dive for cover. Severus got up from the floor, where he'd dived down to avoid being hit.

"...One point to Gryffindor, for non-verbal casting on the first attempt. One point from Gryffindor for every onlooker who was hit. Observers are not meant to be hit in duels, Miss Granger. Remember that if you please."

Hermione bit her lip, looking around the room. Six students had been hit, meaning that Gryffindor was down a further five points. Yet her housemates did not look too put out, as it was almost unheard of for Snape to award even one measley point to Gryffindor. He was obviously not an impostor, as he had deducted sufficient points at the same time to remain partial to his own house. The majority of students caught in the crossfire were Slytherins, after all. Severus lifted the hex from the students afflicted with it (having picked one that was easily dealt with, obviously expecting it to be reflected at him at some point during the duel).

The remainder of the lesson passed without any further incidents – well, apart from Neville stunning the Slytherins by succeeding in casting a non-verbal spell. He was only hopeless at potions, after all. Severus caught Hermione's eye as she reached for her book bag in order to leave the classroom to get to Transfiguration on time. He motioned her to follow him into his office at the back of the room.

"I had every confidence that you'd succeed, Hermione. I wouldn't have called on you if I thought you might fail."

"You know I've never had any trouble putting theory into practice. What is it?" Hermione asked, as it wasn't common practice for Severus to keep her behind after a lesson.

"Are you having trouble controlling your new wand? I've heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick waxing lyrical about your skill with a wand for years. If I hadn't seen what happened just now with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."

"The core is more powerful than I'm used to. I just need to adjust to it." Hermione brandished the wand in question, casting an Imperturbable Charm to keep any would-be eavesdropper from overhearing anything else she said. "It's a chimaera scale, Severus."

Severus's dark eyes widened with unmistakeable alarm. "Ollivander must be out of his mind. Even in the hands of a capable witch like you, it's too dangerous."

"Maybe. But it's also the only wand core that stands a chance of buffering Necromantic powers. Speaking of which, my weekend will be consumed by my attempts to find the equivalent to an Idiot's Guide to Necromancy." Hermione glanced down at her watch, to find that she would be late for Transfiguration. "I've got to go. I'm already late; Professor McGonagall will use me as a test subject for Human Transfiguration."

Severus scribbled something on a scrap of parchment and rolled it up, dripping wax on the seam and sealing it with his signet ring. He handed it to Hermione. "Give that to her and she shouldn't mind too much."

The rest of the day passed smoothly, with her professors obviously pleased to see her back in classes. By the time lessons were over, though, Hermione was in a foul mood. Every single one of her teachers (with the exception of Severus) had treated her with kid gloves, some of them not even bothering to hide their sickening looks of pity. Well, pity and a dash of fear in the case of Professor McGonagall, who was more than a little uncomfortable with having a Necromancer in the castle, let alone in her classroom.

So when Ginny cornered her in the common room, Hermione was sorely tempted to metaphorically bite her head off.

"You said you'd explain about the enchanted ceiling." Ginny crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

Hermione said nothing in reply, just grabbed Ginny's arm and dragged her upstairs to the sixth year girl's dormitories. Ginny looked bewildered, but didn't resist as she was shoved onto Hermione's bed. The younger girl watched as Hermione cast a variation on the Imperturbable Charm to produce a privacy dome around the four-poster bed.

"There, we can talk now." Hermione pocketed her wand and sat down beside Ginny.

"I take it this is a secret?" Ginny's eyes sparkled with interest.

"Yes. Well, as secret as something can be when more than two people know. While I think of it..." Hermione pulled her wand out again, motioning for Ginny to do the same. "I do trust you, but I think it would be best if you swore a wand oath not to tell anyone who doesn't already know of what I'm about to tell you."

Ginny didn't hesitate and touched the tip of her wand to Hermione's. "I swear to do as you ask; my lips are sealed."

Hermione explained about being a Necromancer and the knock-on effects of not knowing how to control the powers that came with it.

Although Ginny had been raised with the same knowledge as Ron concerning Necromancers, she also had a lot of sympathy for Hermione's situation. After all, she knew first hand what it was to have no control over your own actions, having been possessed by the sixteen year-old memory of Tom Riddle in her first year.

"I can hardly abandon you now, 'Mione. It's not as if you decided to be a Necromancer. Plus, I figure that I owe you my support. If I'd not been such a fool in my first year, you wouldn't have been Petrified. You never seemed to blame me for that and setting a basilisk on someone is a not a trivial matter, even if I had the excuse that I was not myself when I did it."

They sat in silence for a moment, Ginny fiddling with the ends of her hair. "You said that the library has nothing useful. What about the Room of Requirement? I seem to remember that last year during the Dumbledore's Army meetings, it had entire shelves of specifically defensive magic books appear. Why don't you see if you can get the same results for Necromancy manuals?"

Hermione gaped at Ginny, stunned that she'd missed something so obvious. A grin spread across her face, which the younger girl returned with a small smile. "Ginny, I could kiss you. Forget dinner, this is more important. I'll see you later; got to go."

After she had cancelled the privacy dome, Hermione dashed off, almost elbowing Harry and Ron in their faces as they made to get up as she hurried towards where they sat in their favoured seats in front of the fireplace. "If you two come with me, you'll miss dinner," she gasped out, not waiting to see if they would follow before rushing out of the common room to the other end of the seventh floor.

As it turned out, both boys were thinking with their stomachs, so Hermione paced in front of the blank wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on her own. 'I need a room with everything written on Necromancy in existence.' She had just finished walking in front of it for the third time when the door to the Room of Requirement materialised. She pulled it open only to be buried in a deluge of books and scrolls. Hermione fought her way out of the pile and began the tricky process of throwing the books back into the room without more falling out.

"Someone somewhere must be laughing their head off. A bookworm buried by books. This is not something I'll be admitting to."

Hermione finally managed to close the door, which vanished after she resolutely turned her back on it and began the process anew, pacing three more times whilst fiercely concentrating on a hopefully less damaging thought. 'I need the best manual on Necromancy and a nice, quiet place to read it.'

This time her idea worked perfectly. When she opened the door this time, a small room was revealed, furnished with a desk, comfortable looking chair and a solitary book on top of the desk. Hermione crossed over and sat down, noting that the door closed automatically. It was virtually impossible for her to be interrupted here, too, as even if Ginny informed the boys as to where she had gone, they did not know the exact thought used to make the door appear.

The book called to her to be picked up, a compulsion she had no desire to resist. It was bound in green leather with no apparent title. Silver clasps held it closed, which snapped open at the first touch of Hermione's fingers. That tingle of magic prompted her to check for other, perhaps harmful, enchantments. The Book (as Hermione decided to call it) was almost innocuous. It seemed to be as harmless as a manual on Necromancy could be, but the wards were unfamiliar. Her Ancient Runes and Arithmancy professors had stressed how dangerous mysterious wards could be; opening this book could be the last thing she ever did. Hermione threw caution to the wind, laying her wand on the desk, and opened the book.