Chapter 8
Christina Weasley took a deep
breath and looked at Hermione.
“Ready to go?” Hermione asked
Christina.
They were the last to leave
Gryffindor tower, having to fix the last details on their clothing for the day.
Christina nodded and then looked
straight ahead, chin pointed up. The door to the Great Hall opened and the
girls strode in together.
Hermione and Christina wore cream
colored, empire waisted dresses fashioned from fine linen. A Greek pattern edged
the neckline and cuffed arms. Christina had shortened her long locks
substantially and had dyed her hair raven black.
Heads turned as the girls made
their way to the Gryffindor table for their breakfast.
Hermione hazarded a quick glance
at the Hufflepuff table. Timothy Owens’ turned around when Hermione saw another
student point to them. His face went from a growl to unveiled approval almost
instantly when he caught sight of them. He caught Hermione looking at him and
he winked at her.
Hermione nearly growled in
frustration. If he had anything to do with the attack she’d be surprised.
“Indecent!” Hermione heard a blond
Ravenclaw girl whisper to a year mate.
Christina’s footfalls were almost
stomps now, but she kept her eyes on Francis and made it to the table without
making a scene.
“I think black is quite fetching.”
Francis reached up to brush a curl away from Christina’s forehead. “Perhaps I
should go dark as well.”
“I think Hogwarts would be a
better place if all the girls started wearing those.” James Williams looked
positively giddy.
“I doubt they’d get any more work
out of you lot if we did.” Hermione snorted.
“So what?” James chuckled.
“I think you ladies both look
charming.” Aberforth beamed. “And Francis is right. Christina looks fetching
with dark hair. With dark hair she looks prettily flushed and with red she
looked…” Aberforth’s voice trailed off when he realized he was better off
staying silent.
“Pink.” Christina finished.
“Healthy?” Francis offered.
“A most valiant attempt, Mr.
Bulstrode.” Christina teased him as she reached for a small triangle of toast.
“But you are not fooling anyone.”
“As I have said many times
before.” Francis said grandly as he waved his goblet of pumpkin juice around.
“You would look lovely covered in mud with twigs in your hair.”
A steady ringing sound suddenly
came from the staff table and the students fell silent and turned their
attention to the Headmaster.
“Last night, there was a most
vicious, petty, attack on one of our female students.” Headmaster Nigellus spat
out the statement as if the words were bitter. “The culprit has been
apprehended and expelled. 100 points from Ravenclaw!”
“What?” Aberforth spluttered.
“Ravenclaw? Are they joking?”
The name spread like wildfire
through the Great Hall as the student’s realized who was missing.
Quinn.
“Quinn?” Albus frowned. “Why
Quinn? I heard he had quarreled with you and Aberforth, but that was no reason
to go after Miss Weasley.”
“Not Miss Weasley.” A young, dark
haired Slytherin boy leaned over to their table. “He broke Allison Bruce’s hand
last night.”
“What?” Albus’ face suddenly went
dark. “Why?”
“For letting the Snitch slip last
night. He lost quite a bit.” The Slytherin boy offered.
“Good grief.” Hermione exclaimed.
“The whole bloody world doesn’t revolve around Quidditch, you know.”
“There will always be those who
are so fanatical they only see themselves and their desires.” Albus looked
disgusted. “Is she alright?”
“Her mother’s come to take her
home.” The Slytherin shrugged. “If it was your daughter, wouldn’t you?”
Albus wiped his mouth quickly and
threw down his napkin. “I have something to attend to. I beg your leave and
will meet you in Transfiguration.”
He quickly got up from his seat
and stalked from the Hall.
“What’s got him all in a bother?”
Hermione asked Aberforth.
“Miss Bruce should not be going
home.” Aberforth explained. “Madame Collins probably fixed it in an instant.
Quinn is gone, so he can’t bother her again. There is no reason for her to be
punished.”
“Do you think that’s why Christina
was attacked?” Francis looked alarmed. “They could not get me alone so they
went for her?”
“Outrageous!” Patrick Poole
snarled. Hermione could swear she saw something flicker in his dark eyes.
“Unsportsmanlike!” James Williams
added.
“There was nothing vaguely clean
about last nights game.” Matilda Potter said plainly.
“All right, fine.” James grumbled.
“But it’s still underhanded to go after Christina because someone’s got their
bloomers in a bunch about Francis.”
“Has anyone seen
The Gryffindors all looked at each
other.
John Sterling and Thomas Hewson
jumped up from the table. “We’ll take the library!”
Winifred Moss and Amanda Roberts
got up as quickly as their clothing would allow. “We’ll check the girls’ bath.”
“We’ve got the infirmary!” Alfred
Barker and Patrick Poole quickly gathered their things and went off to search
for
Hermione felt herself gasp.
Patrick had inherited something otherworldly from his parents, although
Hermione wasn’t sure what on earth it was.
“Albus!” Aberforth suddenly
remembered.
“I’ll go with you to look for
Albus.” Francis rose from the table. “The rest of you, stick together until Transfiguration.”
He removed a small brass pocket watch from the inside of his robes and opened
it. “You have ten minutes of time left at the table. Then a quick trip to the
water closet and then we regroup in front of Transfigurations five minutes
before class.”
Christina looked amused at his
thoroughness. “And what makes you think there was more than one perpetrator?”
“Because when Aberforth and I came
back to the common room we heard whispers.” Realization suddenly dawned on
Hermione. “No one sits in the dark muttering to themselves.”
“That is not true.” Charity
Andersen said, setting down a cup of tea.
“Well, it is certainly not in line
with Mr. Quinn’s character.” Christina pointed out.
“That much is true.” Charity
pursed her lips in thought. “What about Perpetua Reynolds? She is engaged to
Mr. Quinn, is she not?”
“She is.”
Christina looked thoughtful and
Hermione snuck a look at the Ravenclaw table. The girl Hermione had seen Quinn
talking to the night before pulled a sour, pinched face at her. She was a
skinny girl with tight brown curls and large, watery blue eyes.
“I would say that is an
intelligent assumption.” Hermione muttered.
“You never know.” Charity sipped
daintily from her tea cup. “Weren’t Mr. Bulstrode’s parents also considering
Miss Sutter of Ravenclaw and Kensington for their choice of wife?”
“They were.” Christina frowned.
“But Miss Sutter is engaged to Mr. Bloom of Slytherin and
“Not any longer.” Victoria Moss
said stiffly. Hermione jumped. It was the first thing the girl had said since
their grand entrance. Hermione had just assumed Christina’s hair had offended
her so badly she had decided to shun the pair. “Mr. Bloom’s father broke off
the arrangement Thursday last.”
“What?” Christina blustered. The
remaining students at the table started buzzing excitedly. “Why?”
“Miss Sutter’s father has a
problem controlling himself at the card tables,”
“The engagement’s broken just
because of cards?” Matilda asked with wide eyes.
“More than that.”
“That’s horrible!” Hermione
exclaimed.
“It’s his own fault, acting like a
fool!”
“Well, Maddie didn’t sow a damned
thing!” Christina exclaimed. “That’s unfair!”
“Most things in our lives are
unfair.” A familiar voice drifted over to them.
“What do you think, Miss Black?”
Christina inquired.
“I think Miss Sutter is lucky to
have found out her future husbands loyalty depended solely on her father’s
money.” Rachel said disgustedly.
“You have a point there.” Hermione
remarked before anyone else could say anything.
“You’re lucky Francis’ father let
him make the choice and he chose you out of respect and affection.” Matilda
assured Christina.
“It certainly wasn’t for my
father’s money.” Christina chuckled.
“Your family’s better off than
mine.” Matilda shrugged. “At least your father has a job.”
“Don’t worry,” Charity assured
Matilda as the girls gathered their things for the group trip to the bathrooms.
“You’ll be paired off soon enough, like the rest of us.”
“Are you engaged as well?”
Hermione asked politely.
The other girls fell uncomfortably
silent.
“I… think so. It was not easy for
my father to find a suitable mate.” Charity smiled wryly.
Hermione glanced at Christina, but
saw Christina was shooting her a warning look. She’d have to ask later.
They made their way to the
bathrooms and Hermione waited while the other girls used the facilities,
chatting with Christina about what they should wear the rest of the week.
They were getting ready to leave
when they ran into Alfred Barker, Patrick Poole, and Charlotte.
“Where were you?” Matilda
demanded.
“I slept in the infirmary.”
“Oh my goodness,
“Do not think upon it.”
“Thank you.” Christina smiled as
They all trooped through the halls
and met up with the others in front of the Transfiguration classroom. Hermione
noticed Francis was there, but Albus was missing.
“Where is Albus?” Christina
frowned.
“Headmaster’s
office trying to talk to Mrs. Bruce.”
Francis shook his head. “Don’t know why he bothers.”
“Because he sees
potential in people instead of House placement.” Patrick snapped before turning on his heel and stalking
into the classroom.
Hermione gave a quizzical look to
Christina but the other girl just rolled her eyes at Hermione.
Mistress Watson ended up being a
short, plump, middle aged witch with her brown hair braided and wound around
the crown of her head.
She smiled widely when she saw
them. After they took their places, and Hermione had found a place behind
Christina and Amanda, Mistress Watson went to
“Ten points to our little winner!”
Mistress Watson said cheerfully.
Hermione inwardly groaned. Stupid Quidditch. All of this could be avoided by banning
the damnable sport for the duration of term.
Albus slipped in halfway through
class and sat near Hermione.
She pretended to show him her
notes so he could catch up, but at the bottom she had written: How did it go?
Albus quirked his head to the
side, picked up a quill, and wrote: I
could not promise the girl’s absolute safety. Her mother is hysterical. Her
father is upset, but not a little bemused at hearing how fast his daughter was
able to go on a broomstick.
Hermione bit the insides of her
cheeks to keep from giggling. Did you
remind him that if she went home he’d never have a chance to see it?
Albus frowned. I wish I had.
You could always send him an owl later about how her team
needs her. He’s a Muggle, right? Mention rugby and football.
Albus seemed to think about this
and Hermione was satisfied.
The rest of the class was mostly
review, but Mistress Watson hinted at a test the next week and her students let
out quiet groans of displeasure.
“Testing your skills is nessisary at this stage in your development.” Mistress
Watson went on as if she hadn’t heard the groans. “Especially
if we manage to get a representative from the Ministry to visit us before term
ends.”
That stopped the groans and the
noise of the classroom quickly turned into an excited buzzing.
“That ends our time together.”
Mistress Watson said with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Do not neglect your
studies over the weekend!”
The students piled into the
hallway after the lesson and Francis grabbed Albus by the front of his robes.
“I can’t even make a patronus yet! What am I to do?”
“Calm yourself, Francis!” Albus
carefully disengaged from Francis’ grip. “We can work on your patronus and even if you’re never able to make it, it will
not exclude you from the Animagus program.”
“They do say it is easier if you
know what animal you have an affinity for,” Christina said hesitantly.
Hermione said nothing, knowing
full well that if one couldn’t tap into their essence far enough to get a patronus, turning into an animagus
was near to impossible.
Hermione herself had spoken to
Professor McGonagall about the studies and preparation needed to become an animagus. They had decided it was best if Hermione
completed her last year at Hogwarts before taking on that venture.
Hermione questioned the usefulness
of turning into an otter, but McGonagall had pointed out that the
Still, Hermione imagined an otter
strolling through the streets of
They discussed different tactics
of teaching Francis to make a patronus and Hermione
debated whether helping would be changing the course of history or not. They
walked through the castle and seemed to be heading towards the same area Household
Management was held in.
Hermione thought perhaps they
would be going out to the barn. It wasn’t a far fetched idea to keep animals in
a barn.
To her surprise, they headed down
a well worn path into the
“We’re allowed in the forest?”
Hermione asked, her eyes darting around.
“How else are we to study animals
if not in the forest?” Christina laughed.
“What about the Centaurs?”
Hermione asked. Surely they would have something to say about this.
“The last hunt culled the herd
quite a bit.” Francis assured her.
Hermione bit her tongue, but felt
completely appalled. No wonder the Centaurs hated and mistrusted wizards so
much.
“I know how the French feel about
such things,” Christina said soothingly as she patted Hermione’s arm.
Hermione had no idea about the
French view of such things at all.
“I know they look a bit like
humans and make sounds as if they’re speaking, but they really are just beasts,
Hannah.” Francis gave her a winning smile, as if he were patronizing a small,
dull child.
“Have you ever tried to speak to
one or does that view just come from people that have something to gain from
the hunts?” Hermione snapped back.
Instead of the appalled look she
expected for being so forward she was met with thoughtful silence.
“I have never hunted myself,”
Francis admitted, as if that absolved him from his thoughtless comments.
“He usually only hunts pheasant,”
Christina said quickly.
“Have you ever spoken to a Centaur?”
Thomas Hewson asked excitedly.
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
Hermione said hotly. “He saved me and a friend from a deviant that was chasing
us through the woods.”
Winifred covered her mouth and
uttered a tiny scream.
“Good heavens!” Albus exclaimed,
his eyes roaming over her as if making sure all of her person was still intact.
“You didn’t know about this?” John
Sterling looked amused.
“I… thought it best not to tell
father.” Hermione said as if she were admitting something.
“Quite right.” Albus frowned. “He would never let you from his sight
again.”
“What about the Centaur?” Alfred
Barker asked curiously.
“He was very adamant about getting
to further safety.” Hermione said. “They have their own form of divination, you
know.”
“How long did you talk to the
creature?” Winifred asked.
“Just a moment
or two.” Hermione said, getting
nervous. She despised making up stories.
“And yet you learned about his
character and what types of talents they have?” John Sterling looked skeptical.
“He told us the stars predicted
discord in the forest.” Hermione said hotly thinking of
Hermione had never had a talent
for divination the way Professor Trelawny taught the
students of Hogwarts, with her crystal balls and decks of cards. When her
Arithmancy and Astronomy professors both recommended she take classes with
To her surprise, the Centaurian form of divination was more like reading an
astronomical code, and although complex it wasn’t impossible to understand.
“Perhaps you found a particularly
intelligent Centaur,” Alfred mused.
“Or perhaps there are still things
you don’t understand.”
“What do you mean ‘you?’” Victoria Moss narrowed her eyes.
“The Centaurs are intelligent,”
“Genesis 1:28 gives men authority
over the creatures of the world!”
“And Genesis 9:2 reminds us to
watch over the creatures that serve us!”
Winifred gave her an outraged look
and flounced off ahead of the group, into the forest.
“Since when do you read the
bible?” Winifred asked
“Since it I found how much it
bothered that one.”
Hermione chuckled at Charlotte and
Charlotte quirked a grin at her.
“Clever,” John Sterling said,
giving
They rounded a bend in the path
and Hermione was startled to see what looked like Hagrid’s hut nestled between
two large boulders with a neat stone wall sectioning off a small yard in the
front of the house.
Albus reached the iron gate before the rest of them and held it open politely
as the others filed into the little yard.
To Hermione’s surprise, they
didn’t go into the little hut, but approached one of the boulders. There was a
crude carving of a man chasing a stag cut deep into the grey stone.
“Alibi,” John Sterling
said to the carving and Hermione gasped as a seam appeared in the rock and a
door swung open to reveal a staircase leading down.
Hermione followed John and Alfred
down the staircase and listened to the clatter of their shoes on the stone
steps as they headed downward.
There was a round classroom,
carved roughly out of stone and lit by torches, at the bottom of the stairs. A
small, squat man with a horse shoe of silver hair running around the perimeter
of his head stood writing on the chalkboard in the front of the room. There
were small tables with four chairs around each of them lined up in two rows.
Square wooden boxes about the size of a shoebox sat on each table.
She and Albus sat in chairs near
the middle of the classroom and were quickly joined by Christina and Francis.
Albus tapped the top of the box and the wood turned to glass. Christina shrieked
and all but jumped on Francis.
“Good heavens, Miss Weasley,”
Professor Jacobsen chuckled without even turning around. “You’re not even
handling it yet.”
“She certainly will not!” Francis
frowned as Christina swooned in his arms.
“She certainly will, Mr.
Bulstrode.” Jacobsen turned and peered at Francis with eyes the dull, brown
color of dirt. “They’re quite gentle and their venom is valuable.”
“Venom?” Christina squeaked. She was looking quite pale.
“I’m sure we’ll muddle through
class,” Hermione assured her as Francis lowered her to a chair.
Dear Lord, was fear of spiders a
genetic trait? Hermione was biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from
laughing.
The class was rather simple,
Hermione was happy to discover. Their jobs were to milk the spiders of their
venom, a task made easier after they had watched Charlotte lift the lid of the
box at her table, petrify the spider, and poke it’s fangs through the thin
leather lid covering the top of the glass vial they were to collect the venom
in.
“I… suppose he really is quite
soft,” Christina finally admitted after the spider was milked and returned to
his box. She had tentatively reached her hand out to stroke the fuzzy carapace
of the spider while he was still petrified.
Francis lifted the charm before
Albus closed the box and they all breathed a sigh of relief after the spider
was contained.
“She really is quite a sweet
thing.” Patrick said behind Hermione and she turned to see one of the huge
spiders cuddling up to him and making delicate clicking sounds with it’s mandibles. He picked it delicately up and placed it
back in the box. “In you go, sweetheart.”
John Sterling had a screwed up
look of repressed disgust and fear, his fingers gripped the tables edge, his
knuckles white. His eyes didn’t blink as he watched Patrick fasten the box
shut.
“Ten points to Gryffindor for
Hermione and the others gathered
their things and climbed the stone stairs up to the forest floor.
Amanda and Matilda scurried ahead
of Hermione, Charlotte, and Christina, talking about the uses of spiders venom in preservation potions.
“I would be quite grateful if we
never had to do anything like that again!” Christina shuttered.
“I have a feeling this is just the
beginning,”
“He’s new this year?” Hermione
asked.
“Oh, yes,” Christina said, an
ominous tone to her voice.
“Professor Byron got eaten up by a
dragon!” Alfred piped up, ruining the mysterious mood
Christina was trying to set.
“You make it sound do vulgar!”
Christina complained.
“Well, it’s not like it was
pretty.” Thomas snorted.
“Oh…” Hermione gulped and she felt
a little faint. “It’s not still… around… is it?”
She knew there was the occasional
sighting of dragons during this time, but she didn’t remember any details of an
incident near Hogwarts.
“Oh no!” Winifred laughed, looking over at them. “Some brawny
wizards from the Ministry came and defeated the beast! It was an exciting thing
to see!”
“I can imagine it was!” Hermione
said truthfully.
Nothing had frightened her the way
the dragons had during the Tri Wizarding Tournament. They were large and
fearsome, to be sure, and highly intelligent, but what Hermione had not been
prepared for was how fast they were.
They had appeared to be unbeatable
by a single person alone and she had been terrified for Harry.
She knew the champions had been
quite brave and creative getting past the beasts, but she knew this only from
the comments and gasps from the others in the stands. Hermione had screwed her
eyes shut, only forcing herself to open them once the
cheering had begun signaling the successful completion of the task.
They stepped out of the forest and
Albus squinted at the sky. “Lunch indoors today?”
“I think that may be for the
best.” Francis admitted. He turned to Christina. “I believe I will have to take
you for a stroll some other time, my dear. I fear it may rain in the near
future.”
Francis was quite right in that. A
fine mist started falling just as they reached the castle, and the girls
scurried forward to insure their hair didn’t collapse or turn to frizz from the
turn in weather.
They clattered into the castle,
quickly casting drying spells on each other. As Hermione reached up and
rearranged a curl on Christina’s head Aberforth and James Williams came running
around a corner.
“What’s wrong?” John Sterling
stiffened defensively.
“There was another attack on a
female student!”