Revelations

"What was that, Mione?"

Ron smiled sadly. "Your mind has been a mystery to me ever since the day we met."

Hermione bit her lip and did not respond. Ron, in a rare demonstration of intuition, gathered her in his arms and gently stroked her shoulder blade.

She was out of the hospital wing now. It was summertime, and therefore the regular dorms at Hogwarts were not furnished. Hermione was currently sitting on a forest green sofa in an elegant sitting room. From the steadily growing stack of parchment beside her, she learned that she was in Snape's quarters.

Perusing a few more sentences revealed that both Harry and Ron had gone into a rage ("In that murdering git's cave?" Ron had exclaimed incredulously) when McGonagall suggested that she lodge there until further notice. The Headmistress had quelled their arguments in mere moments. The quarters provided privacy, comfort, and immediate Floo access with her office in case Hermione needed assistance.

Snape had not been seen in the area at all since the day he had fled Hogwarts. In addition, the castle and all of its grounds had been charmed to sound an alarm in the Headmistress' office if they ever detected his presence.

"Your NEWT scores arrived, by the way, two weeks ago," Ron said suddenly.

"Oh?" Hermione tried to sound casual, but she couldn't help her voice coming out rather like a squeak. Her heart began to race in a way that was comforting and familiar.

"Yeah. Harry and I decided to exchange your scores for ours. Felt right surreal it did, us getting the highest scores that Hogwarts has seen in nearly thirty years."

Hermione laughed and slapped him playfully. "You didn't! I didn't!"

Ron grinned crookedly. "Yeah, you did," he said. "Surprised? I wasn't."

Hermione smiled gently. "Thanks, Ron," she replied.

"Thought that might cheer you up."

The moment stretched on. Had they somehow moved closer?

The flames in the fireplace flared green, and the Headmistress stepped through, brushing ash from her robes discreetly back into the hearth.

"Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley," she said, inclining her head to each of them in turn, although she appeared to frown at Ron. "I would like to speak with Miss Granger...in private."

Ron nodded and disentangled Hermione from his arms before taking his leave. Both women watched him go, and McGonagall turned to her with a pointed look.

Hermione sighed. "Don't worry, Professor. I do remember that we broke up last October. He just wants to be here for me as much as he can."

"Mr. Potter tells me that he has missed at least a week's worth of Auror training."

"Oh, that big idiot. He told me he was on leave."

"More importantly, Miss Granger, are you aware that he writes all of your notes for you?"

"His handwriting has become surprisingly legible since he took his NEWTs."

"Hermione," McGonagall's voice was gentle but firm. "Do you remember what you set out to do after graduation?"

She swallowed. "To continue my NEWT research. To develop a way to block or neutralize the Killing Curse." She caught on before McGonagall had a chance to speak. "Instead, I am sitting at Hogwarts like a recluse, depending on scraps of parchment to maintain any semblance of sanity. Headmistress... do you honestly think that I can continue my work now? As a veritable prisoner within my mind?"

"Do you believe that you can?"

"It seems impossible." The words tasted like greasy refuse in her mouth.

McGonagall let out a long breath. "I never imagined that I would ever hear you say that."

McGonagall took Hermione's hand in hers. The Headmistress' grip was rather rigid, as if she were unaccustomed to such gestures. "Miss Granger, do you remember when you first received your wand? How did it feel?"

"Fascinating. Frightening. It took me a week before I could cast anything with confidence. At first, every spell felt like I was losing a bit of myself. It was such a concentrated effort, nothing like the accidental magic I had done before."

McGonagall reached into her robes and removed a long, thin box. It was the same length as an Ollivander's box but only half the width.

Hermione opened it to reveal a quill, but never had a quill been fashioned from a feather as fine as this. "Is this...?" She lifted it into the light, and it gleamed red and orange like the sun. The tip bowed slightly from the movement before curling back up into place. "But I thought that Fawkes left after Dumbledore died?"

She wrote, "My name is Hermione Granger," in the air in front of her face and watched it appear on the parchment underneath Ron's most recent entry. The handwriting was hers.

Hermione cracked a smile. "I guess that's one thing I won't be forgetting. Could this be charmed as a Quick Quotes Quill? Considering how often I'll be writing with it, mightn't that be more convenient? I could reduce the size magically so that I won't look completely ridiculous with a quill following me everywhere."

"I'm afraid that won't work," McGonagall said. But she was smiling. "Quick Quotes are notoriously biased by the writer's emotions, as Rita Skeeter demonstrated."

"So I must trust my emotions not to influence this quill either. I must become the world's most impartial and perfect observer."

"If anyone were up the task, it would be you," McGonagall said.

"What about a Pensieve? Could I use one to store my memories for me?"

McGonagall sighed. "Unfortunately, Pensieve magic is very exacting. Only true memories can be placed inside, memories that have had a chance to settle for an extended period of time. We have already tried to do exactly as you now suggest, Miss Granger, but the thoughts were too insubstantial to be drawn from your head."

Hermione's reaction to this was merely grim. "There's no easy way then, is there?" She considered her new quill, stroking the soft feather gently. She continued in a soft voice, "Then again, I was never one to turn down a challenge. Thank you for the quill, Professor. It's beautiful."

"Minerva, please."

For some reason, the Headmistress seemed unable to hold back a smile. "You were discussing your proposed research, Hermione. I believe that you had just finished explicating the overwhelming proof that the curse cannot be blocked."

"Correct. The Killing Curse works much like what the Muggles call a 'virus.' It feeds off the living force of a person, consuming until there is nothing left. That's why there is no counter-curse. The stronger the spell thrown in retaliation, the more the Killing Curse has from which to feed."

"As fascinating as that is, Hermione, do you realize what you just did?"

Hermione flushed and said, "No," in a small voice.

"You fooled just about everyone. You paused, looked at your notes, and carried right on with the conversation. Even a keen observer would not be able to tell that you had just lost the past half hour."

Minerva's smile was like the sun as she said, "It's good to have you back, Hermione. Do continue."

"So, 'Avada Kedavra' attacks a wizard's life force, which is encased within his soul and his body, until there is none left. What if there was a way then to take a literal snapshot of yourself and use it, after the curse had done its work, to rebuild your previous natural state of being? In other words, to create a memento of yourself. It wouldn't block the curse; it would just make its effects elastic; you snap back to life once the effects have run its course. A potion would probably be the most effective solution. It could incubate in a person's body indefinitely and be activated when needed. Many catalysts exist that could make the effects instantaneous once the Killing Curse has struck."

Minerva was suitably astonished. "Hermione, this is a revolutionary concept. If it works, it could turn the course of the war. It..."

"...is only a theory," Hermione warned. "I began thinking of it after a few observations of how durable pre-existing states of being are in the wizarding world. 'Reparo' returns things to their original unbroken state with a single wand flick. Stasis spells can control even the most volatile potion from reacting violently."

"Not to mention how difficult it is to maintain self-Transfiguration for any lengthy period of time," Minerva added. "Animagism is so strictly regulated precisely because it is an unnatural state of being and bloody difficult to maintain. Unfortunately, although it goes without saying that you have my assistance in every manner, it seems as if most of your labor shall consist of potions work."

"I assume that Hogwarts has not hired a new Potions master in my mental absence?"

"You are as adept as any Potions master, Hermione. Although it pains me to speak of it, Professor Snape always thought most highly of you. However, he would have eaten Bubotuber pus before he would have admitted as much. I believe he was always so hard on you because he resented how a subject that took him years to master came to you so easily."

"Then how, why, would he have ki..."

"Please don't say it, Hermione. I have no answer for you." Hermione could almost sense Minerva's mind shifting gears to a less volatile topic. "How have you even begun to research such a potion?"

"I was planning to do most of the work at the Institute under their guidance. Since a person's life force is bound within both the soul and the body, I started with the soul and began researching means to restore it to its natural state after it has been damaged. It's common knowledge that the soul is an entity separate from the body. And seeing as how Voldemort has managed to split his soul into seven parts with no loss of magical power, it appears to be the most resilient part of the body as well. Then after we found Slytherin's locket containing Voldemort's third Horcrux..."

The pain was so sudden, so powerful that Hermione found herself on the floor with no recollection of falling. The pain pulsed through her veins like some noxious drug, concentrating within her skull. Hermione curled herself into a foetal position...instinctively...as if she had felt this agony before.

It seemed like forever, but the clock said that no more than five minutes had passed when Minerva returned. The pain had also, mercifully, abated. Minerva held the locket in the palm of her hand, well away from her body. She tipped it into Hermione's waiting hands.

She sounded utterly astonished. "Hermione, is this really...? How on earth did you find it?"

Hermione laughed lightly. "Ron sat on it in Grimmauld Place. I was the one who remembered seeing it in one of the glass cabinets when we were cleaning, but Kreacher must have hidden it when he knew that we were looking."

She cradled her hands around the locket as if it were a precious jewel. "They were looking for you, weren't they? They must have thought that I was a fool enough to bring it home to study it. That's why they attacked after I had gotten off the Hogwarts Express. But I am a hard worker, not a fool. What did they do when they couldn't find you? I can't imagine that they asked nicely." Her slightly mad eyes rolled and fixed upon Minerva, demanding, unyielding.

The older women swallowed. She said, "There was evidence of the administration of multiple Crucios when we found you. I saw no reason to distress you with the knowledge at the time."

Hermione was no longer listening after the first sentence. She was rocking back and forth, muttering to the locket. "They tortured me for this, they must have. But they didn't get you... Why is that? I'm not a strong person. I would not have lasted long. There were three weeks between the attack and when you brought me to the Hospital Wing. What happened then? Snape was with them! Surely he could have done it. He has never failed to meet a challenge as long as I've known him... A sn-sn-sniveling schoolgirl would have been nothing. And he has no Hogwarts master anymore who could stop him."

Her eyes snapped up to Minerva again. "Why did you not tell me? If they tortured me for this, surely they tried to find out other things."

The Headmistress shook her head. "It was days before you were in any shape to begin to tell us what happened. If they had discovered anything, they would have acted on it long before. More to the point, however, what secrets are left for you to tell?"

For a moment, Hermione allowed herself to despair over how much had been lost with the erstwhile Potions master. How could Dumbledore have been so mistaken about someone with whom he had entrusted so much?

"There is only this then," Hermione whispered to the locket in her hands. "Only a desperate theory that if Voldemort could break his soul apart, then we could somehow put one back together." She rocked back and forth for so long that Minerva feared that she had forgotten again.

"My parents... did they suffer?"

"No," Minerva said gently. "All the evidence says that they were killed instantly in the initial blast that destroyed your house."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded once in gratitude. "I guess that the Institute is out of the question then. I don't imagine that they will ever stop hunting me."

Minerva took a very deep breath as she said, "We were worried that this might happen and prepared in advance. We will begin to spread the rumor that Hermione Granger died several weeks after her disappearance. The doctors that diagnosed your malady were Obliviated. Ironic, I suppose. So you don't need to worry about people being suspicious when you explain your situation. In the meantime, we have a Glamour, wizarding papers, and a new wand for you. I have no intention of losing you, but Hermione Granger must never be seen in the wizarding world again."

Hermione was nodding absently at everything Minerva was saying. Her flailing mind locked in on the most intriguing piece of information. "Isn't an unregistered wand illegal?" she asked.

Minerva smirked. "I'd like to see them try to do anything about this one."

"Can I live in Cambridge? I've always found the city incredibly beautiful."

"Certainly. I will make all of your housing arrangements."

"Ron and Harry will insist on me staying at the Burrow at least one night before I disappear."

"Very well. Also, I suppose that I won't be able to talk you out of telling them everything, but please make sure not to be overheard."

Hermione grinned forcefully. "Not a problem, we'll use Muffliato. I-I'd also like to see my parents... their graves, I mean."

"I will give you the location where they are buried."

She had missed their funeral.

What must her parents' friends have thought when their only daughter had not shown up to say goodbye? Hermione hugged her knees to her chest tightly. She squeezed her eyes shut and allowed the grief to well up for five seconds before forcing it back down into the deepest mire of her soul, somewhere within the emptiness.

Hermione lifted her head; her eyes were clear. "Thank you," she said. She raised the phoenix feather quill into the air; it gleamed in the firelight. The clock over the mantel said two minutes until 5:00pm. "I will record everything now while there is still time."