The Weight of Glory

He who knows does not speak; he who speaks does not know. Lao Tzu

Chapter Fifteen // The Weight of Glory

Hermione yawned and stretched, grumbling about morning people. As Head Girl, she had been given a private room – the downside of which was that it was located just off the Common Room and had an entrance into the hallway outside of Gryffindor Tower as well. The idea was that the Head Girl should be easily accessible to all students, not just those in her own House. While Hermione agreed with that idea, she wished there were some stronger noise-dampening charms on the room so that she wouldn't get woken up by the early risers who were in the Great Hall before breakfast even started.

The day before yesterday she'd been bustled back to Albus's cottage, where she'd had a meeting of sorts with Severus, Albus, and Professor McGonagall. She saddened at the memory of what she'd learned, though she was eager to get started.

**

"Albus, Minerva. Miss Granger has had an idea of sorts that may help us in removing this curse. How long does Arthur have?" asked Severus, his expression grave.

It was not Albus, but Severus, who answered her. "Bill and Charlie are old enough now to take their father's place as head of the household. They will grieve for their parents, but they will understand what this means to their mother. When – if – Arthur is taken beyond the veil, he will not be alone."

She remembered the faded blue line Mrs. Weasley's line had joined with in the Arithmancy equation, and the resulting purple line that had disappeared. She squared her shoulders with newfound determination. She had to do this.

**

Scrambling out of bed, Hermione dressed and readied herself to head down to breakfast. Starting today, she would no longer be in Professor Henry's Advanced Potions class. Professor McGonagall had been more than happy to accommodate her desire to help. She'd sent Professor Henry a note stating that Hermione would be undertaking independent research instead of attending his class. The young professor hadn't had a problem with that, saying that he'd noticed that Hermione was bored in his class. She'd still take her N.E.W.Ts with everyone else, but for now she would be able to continue her work.

She'd been a little worried about how she would get into the Order's library unseen, but Albus had assured her that since the location was Secret-Kept, no one else would notice the Head Girl disappearing into a wall once a day. He had instructed, though, that she not read any new books without Severus there to warn her away from the dangerous tomes.

**

After lunch, she headed up to the third floor. Ron and Harry hadn't even asked what sort of independent research she'd been working on. For once, Potions was a class they looked forward to. Professor Henry ruled his classroom with an iron fist that would have earned the respect of even Severus Snape, but he still managed to be kind and patient. He'd even taken Neville, who hadn't scored high enough on his O.W.L.s to take Advanced Potions, under his wing. Though he wouldn't be able to retake the test, he made sure that Neville could brew anything useful from the lower curriculum without a problem.

She'd been happy that the boys didn't ask what she was working on. Ron was having a difficult enough time dealing with the situation; she didn't want to give him hope in case she didn't succeed in time.

Severus merely grunted at her when she came in. He was scribbling away on a piece of parchment, nose nearly touching the paper. Rolling it up and sealing it closed with his wand, he handed it to her.

"I would appreciate it if you took this to the Owlery for me today. It is a letter to an acquaintance of mine who deals in unusual plants. He should be able to get the plants we need."

"Thank you!" she squealed, having not expected much help from the sour-looking man.

"Please, calm yourself. We still do not know if this theory of yours is even feasible – remember, we still have to find a way to get the curse out of the body without ripping out the soul and find a way to get the plant to consume the curse – if it even will."

"I thought about that last night. You said this curse feeds on love, right?" When he nodded, she continued. "I remembered an experiment we did in primary school with a piece of celery and blue dye. We stood the celery stalk up in some blue-tinted water, and as the days progressed we watched the dye travel through the plant, and eventually the whole piece of celery turned blue. Do you think we could water the Venus Flytrap with a love potion and make the curse go for it instead? If we could modify Amortentia with a few drops of their blood..."

Severus had grabbed another piece of parchment and picked up his quill again, murmuring something Hermione couldn't understand. "What?" she asked, afraid she'd missed something.

For the second time in her life, she saw Severus Snape's cheeks take on a pale pink tinge. "It's a Charm..." he said. "One that automatically corrects your spelling."

"Why don't you just buy one of the Self-Correcting Quills at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? Oh, well, never mind... I suppose you can't go in there. You could ask them to bring you one!"

"Why would I do that? I am the one who showed them that Charm in the first place." At her surprised stare, he explained. "For the wonderful prank they played on Dolores Umbridge, I taught them a few things. The Edible Dark Marks were also my idea."

At her incredulous expression, he continued, "Do close your mouth. I was young once, and I am still not so old that I cannot enjoy a well-played prank. I told you – I am not the Professor Snape who was your teacher. Please learn to dissociate."

Now it was her turn to blush. "Sorry, it's just a little difficult. I'd heard them talk about you, though they didn't mention your name. I helped them a bit, too, the summer before fifth year. The Extendable Ears." Clearing her throat, she continued. "So what do you think about the modified Amortentia idea?"

"It has merit. I assume that your reason for adding Arthur and Molly's blood to the Amortentia is to modify the potion to resemble their feelings for each other? I would suggest adding powdered dickelroot to increase the potency. Why?"

"Well, dickelroot is mainly used to heighten emotion... and I am assuming this is some sort of a leech-spell that feeds off of love... so if we could tempt the leech with something stronger to feed on, it would be easier to separate it from his soul. Dickelroot in an Amortentia potion meant to be ingested would cause severe psychosis, making the person who took it –"

"That's enough, Hermione. I do not need an analysis of what it would do when ingested. First, I am a Master of Potions, and I do believe I know what effects dickelroot has on Amortentia. Secondly, as this potion will not be ingested, it is irrelevant. You are not lacking in intelligence, but you are lacking in focus. This is why I always marked down your essays in class; you put in too much information that had nothing to do with the assignment." With a smirk, he added, "Just like I did on that powdered bicorn horn essay you found in my office."

"How did you know about that?"

"Never trust a house-elf who is not bound to you. All house-elves at Hogwarts are required to report any unusual goings-on to the appropriate person. Wanting to break into the room of a former professor and known murderer definitely qualifies as unusual."

"But Dobby is a free elf! He isn't bound to anyone!"

"That was true, for a little while. He then chose to bind himself to Albus Dumbledore. You do not seem to understand that this is what they want. A house-elf lives to care for people, for things... Before, they would bind themselves to whatever struck their fancy – a person, a shrine, a garden – and there were many, both Muggle and Magical, who were killed by an overprotective elf. For example, say that an elf had bound himself to care for the greenhouses. A student wanders in, perhaps to pick some herbs, and does not consult the elf. The elf would become enraged at what they see as an interference with their duty and would lose control. The student would be injured, perhaps even killed. This was the way of things until an elf called Kitsunebi came to the wizards for help. She saw that her people were dying, killed out of fear by those who considered them demons. The elves bound themselves to wizards, and from then on were called house-elves. They are happy to have an entire race to care for, and we are happy for the assistance. They remember what they once were, and they see what you do as the gravest of insults. Dobby has tried to convince them that you mean no harm, but has had little success."

"Why wasn't this in any of the books I read?"

"There is not a written history of the house-elves. However, had you simply asked either a professor or a house-elf, they would have told you all this and probably more."

Hermione twisted a strand of hair through her fingers, feeling sick. Standing up, she said, "I'm going to go take this to the Owlery." She hurriedly gathered up her belongings and left the room, not seeing the look of concern that passed over Severus's face.

**

After tying the letter to the leg of a nondescript barn owl, Hermione trudged back to the castle. The wind was fierce today, whipping her already bushy brown hair into a tangled mess. She shivered, increasing her pace to a slow jog. She had business to attend to, and perhaps she could get a nice cup of hot cocoa when she was done.

Once inside, she headed down to the kitchens. The house-elves, as was usual for them, ignored her. Only one came hurtling out of the crowd, and Hermione laughed as she saw Dobby's black-clad torso collide with her ankles.

"Miss Hat Lady! What can Dobby do for you?"

Kneeling so that she was on eye-level with the tiny creature, she said, "I want to apologize to the other house-elves. I didn't know..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Dobby with pleading in her eyes.

A toothy smile threatened to split his face in two, and he hopped up on the counters and began to speak in a loud, carrying voice.

"Peoples of Kitsunebi! We is seeing before us Miss Hat Lady, the Troll of Gryffindor, Hater of House-Elves." Hermione blushed and hung her head in shame upon hearing the names that Dobby called her.

"She is coming here to be giving her apologies, for she was not knowing the history of us. I says forgive her, for she knew not what she was doing!"

A moment of silence followed, and for a moment Hermione wondered if they would ever forgive her. Then a loud thwack broke the stillness, and Hermione recognized Winky as she hit Dobby about the ankles with a large wooden spoon.

"Dobby! You is getting down from there! We is having work to do!" The house-elves seemed to take this as a sign, for they all went back to their work. One, however, came up to her and asked, "Is there anything Miss is needing?"

Somehow, she knew that this was a test. "Yes, please! I would like some hot chocolate, with those little marshmallows in it, and a big piece of cherry pie!"

In an instant, she had what she'd asked for. She found herself surrounded by a multitude of house-elves, all clamoring to get her anything she needed.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Dobby whispered in her ear, "They was testing you. A house-elf knows what it is you need, and they knows when you is lying about it."

She gave him a one-armed hug, being careful not to spill her mug of hot liquid. "Thanks, Dobby. I owe you one."

"Then let Dobby collect this one now! You is hiding in the Phoenix Room with Professor Bat-man sometimes. Dobby needs you to be feeding him."

"Feeding him? Professor Snape?"

"Yes." The little house-elf shook his head sadly. "We is bringing him all kinds of foods he likes, and he is not eating nothing. He is not listening to us when we is telling him he needs to eat, but you is one he would listen to!"

She remembered how thin Severus had looked in his Muggle clothes, though these days he remained hidden, wrapped up inside those too-big teaching robes he favored. He did look like he needed to wrap himself around a good meal...

**

The Weight of Glory is a sermon by C.S. Lewis, originally given in Oxford in 1942.

I'm not going to spoil it in case anyone still hasn't finished it... but Deathly Hallows... oh goodness. I cried like a baby. Like a hungry, angry baby. (House points if anyone can name that movie! ^_^)