CHAPTER SEVEN:
Despite the excitement of the morning, Hermione's second day of classes passed without any further drama. She had Double Charms in the morning with the delightful Professor Flitwick who, despite his genial, harmless appearance– all fluffy white hair and tiny stature and squeaky voice– had a lurking undercurrent to his magic of something fierce, something dangerous; like the pounding of steel against shields, and spilled blood on a battlefield.
Charms was a fascinating subject, and far more alike to the magic she'd already been learning then Transfiguration. It was less mathematical, less scientific, and more focused on visualisation, pronunciation and memorising the wand-movements neccesary to guide the shaping and release of magic. It was incredibly versatile and Hermione had no problem at all with making her marble roll in circles around her desk, even if it had taken more effort to be able to perform the spell using her wand as a channel for her magic, rather than just with a flick of her hand. As if it had sensed her annoyance with having to use it, her wand had pinched her fingers in retaliation, before sulking when she stashed it back in her sleeve.
Professor Flitwick had been thrilled by her success, awarding her five points to Slytherin for being the first in the class to successfully cast the charm, and then another ten points when she talked Millicent through successfully casting the charm too. She couldn't help but feel smug about the twenty points she'd already earned for Slytherin, and it wasn't even the lunchtime of their second day of classes. It was certainly more than Malfoy had earned, despite his oh-so pure blood.
Having already read Miranda Goshawk's 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One' and Adalbert Waffling's 'Magical Theory' from their booklist (as well as all the other course books they'd been assigned), Hermione made a point of asking Professor Flitwick if there were any other books he'd recommend to supplement their learning, which earned her another point for Slytherin for her 'forward thinking' and his advice to borrow 'Flicks, Swishes, and Jabs: The Wand Movement Guide' from the school library. Hermione left class with a bounce to her step that was half the result of a truly good lesson and half because of the expression of loathing on Malfoy's face.
Lunch was a bit heavy– Hermione appreciated the effort of the traditional English cooking, but hot lunches every day seemed a bit excessive and she stuck to a sandwich and a piece of fruit. As a bonus, her quick lunch meant she had time to borrow 'Flicks, Swishes and Jabs' from the library before she and Millicent headed to Herbology, where they were lectured on the properties of three different types of magical fertiliser, taught how to identify each, and assigned an essay where they'd have to research which type of fertiliser an aglaophotis would grow best in, and why.
After Herbology, they had Study Hall– a bit unfortunate, considering the smell of manure clinging to them all after Herbology. Still, much to Hermione's delight as she and Millicent walked in to the Study Hall Dean, who was already sitting down, waved them over, despite the odd looks it earned him from those around him wearing red-and-gold ties.
"Hi Dean, hi Neville," she happily greeted the two Gryffindor first years she actually knew.
"Hey Hermione," Dean greeted her just as happily, a bright grin on his face, while Neville just smiled shyly. "This is Seamus Finnegan, by the way," he introduced the other boy sitting with him. "And you know Ron and Harry already."
Harry smiled at them but Ron frowned, again, and Hermione only just managed to hold back her eye-roll. Honestly, the prejudice inside Hogwarts was appalling and Sylvianne, Gerda and Greta would all be horrified to learn of the separation between Slytherins and Gryffindors. Still, being confrontational wouldn't do anything to fix the divide that Cuthbert had warned her about– the four pillars needed to hold strong or Hogwarts would crumble from within, so she'd just have to do what she could to break down the House barriers.
"Hi," she greeted Seamus, "I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Millicent Bulstrode," she introduced them, and Seamus gave her a sort of wary smile. "So, what have you lot thought about our classes so far?" she asked brightly.
"They are waaaay harder than I was expecting," Dean immediately groaned. "I thought I'd be leaving maths and science stuff and all that behind, but nope – if anything, Transfiguration is even worse!" here, he shuddered. "Plus, there's no footy team! And my radio doesn't work, so I can't listen to West Ham United play!" Here, he looked genuinely horrified.
"I think there are wizarding radios you can buy that are specifically built so the magic doesn't interfere with the electromagnetic radiation," Hermione suggested, and Ron nodded.
"Yeah, you can probably buy one off Owl Order," he said.
"And it'll tune into normal stations? Not just magic ones?" Dean checked, which Ron confirmed.
"Wicked!" Dean said excitedly, before pausing. "Um, what's an owl order?"
As Seamus and Ron explained the owl ordering system to Dean, the rest of them pulled out their homework. The Gryffindors had already had their second Transfiguration lesson and Professor McGonagall had assigned them a lengthy first essay, while Hermione and a very quiet, unsure Millicent got to work on their Herbology essay.
"Urgh, I just realised it's no use– I don't actually have an owl," Dean suddenly bemoaned.
"The Hogwarts owlery has plenty of school owls you can borrow," Hermione said instantly, having read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History', "or you can borrow Vashti, if you like."
"Really?" Dean asked brightly. "Cheers!"
Hermione couldn't help but smile at her fellow Muggleborn's enthusiasm, even as Ron and Seamus both looked unsure. She'd get there, she decided; she was too stubborn not to wear away at their defences. Sooner or later, they'd both fold under her genuine good will.
Following Study Hall, neither Hermione or Millicent were too keen to head back to the Slytherin common room, not with its unfriendly atmosphere, so they both accompanied Dean, Seamus and Neville to the owlery so Dean could send off his owl order with Vashti, with a brief detour to the Gryffindor common room to pick up the necessary forms and money (though the Gryffindors had made her and Millicent wait a corridor away from the secret entrance– Hermione didn't have the heart to tell them she'd been inside all four of the common rooms already; after the Founders had come up with the idea of the four Houses, all the kids had got to help them figure out where each of the common rooms for the Houses would be).
After that, they'd said goodbye to the three boys and made their way to the library for the second time that day, where they finished their Herbology essays and Hermione got started on the Transfiguration essay they hadn't technically been assigned yet.
Dinner was just as heavy as lunch and breakfast had been, and Hermione realised she was going to have to begin her jogging again if she didn't want to start losing her level of fitness, and resigned herself to waking up early to jog. After dinner, she and Millicent finally headed back to the Slytherin common room. To her relief, although there were plenty of nasty looks and murmurs of 'blood traitor', 'mudblood' and 'mudblood lover', nobody tried to outright attack either of them.
Of course, that didn't last.
Wednesday morning, Hermione rose early as she usually did, Vashti waking with her, the disguised-phoenix having returned to the Slytherin girl's dorms the previous night after dropping off Dean's order. She dressed in the uniform, plus her bracelets– none of the professors had commented on the jewellry yet, though they were mostly hidden by the dark sleeves of her school-robes– and she left her hair mostly out, with just a few small braids to keep her curls out of her face.
Before leaving the girl's dorm she also made sure she had her karambit daggers tucked into their sheathes at the small of her back and her stiletto knives from Hati in easy reach, strapped to her thighs. Not that she was planning on using them on her housemates, no matter how awful some of them might be, but she'd been trained to keep herself armed at all times, and she wasn't about to let her teachers down now.
With the expectation that she would be attacked, Hermione did make sure she had her wand out and ready as she stepped into the common room, Vashti bristling with agitation on her shoulder. The expected bolt of magic soared towards her, and Hermione neatly side-stepped it, only to cry out in surprised alarm as she almost moved directly into the path of a second streak of light, this one aimed at her from the opposite side of the common room– and then, when spinning to avoid the second curse, a third flew at her from yet another angle.
She was forced to dive at the floor to avoid the crossfire of curses, rolling and swiftly rising back to her feet. Vashti, dislodged by the roll, screeched her rage, an eerie, piercing cry that made Hermione's skin crawl, and dove towards one of the three older boys who were attacking Hermione from different sides of the common room. Hermione barely avoided the next volley of spellfire, dodging two of the curses then letting a blast of her own magic collide and deflect the third curse in a bright burst of raw power.
One of the boys then yelled out in pain, courtesy of Vashti, and the split-second of distraction as Hermione glanced over in the direction of the teenager being attacked by her disguised-phoenix cost her. She still managed to avoid getting hit full on by the curse, but the acrid stench of burning hair filled the room as her curls caught fire, and she shrieked before dousing herself with water.
Now dripping wet and spitting mad, Hermione saw red. They'd attacked her with fire!? Her!? The priestess of the god of fire!?
"How dare you." She hissed, low and venomous. Her hair crackled with power and her eyes, unbeknownst to her, burned a brilliant gold. "How dare you!"
The last one to use fire against her had been Odin, when he'd tried to burn her alive in a mockery of the god she worshipped. He had paid for his mockery, paid for it with his life, and she would make these boys pay too.
Letting her magic swirl out around her, the weight of it almost tangible and golden in the air, Hermione lashed out, sweeping her arm in the direction of the Slytherin who'd dared use fire against her, smacking him to the wall with enough force that he dropped to the floor and his head lolled forward, stunned. With a heralding screech of war, Vashti resumed her attack on the second of the trio, successfully distracting him as he desperately tried and failed to curse the disguised-phoenix. Vashti was too quick for him, though, darting about him on quick-silver wings, beating him about his head with her wings, and clawing at his face with her deceptively sharp talons.
Seeing her soul-sister had him neatly managed, a still-furious Hermione turned her attention to the last of her ambushers, jabbing her wand in the direction of the older student– she belatedly recognised him as Bole, the boy whose wand she'd handed in to Professor Snape the previous day– and hissing out the anchovy curse that Fleur had praised as so effective.
Fleur was right– live anchovies wriggling and squirming out of your nostrils were debilitatingly distracting in a duel. Bole started shrieking and panicking and carrying on like she'd just cast some sort of torture curse at him, far too distracted to notice her summon his wand across the room, or the wand of the probably-concussed, definitely-stunned boy on the floor. It was only a smug Vashti gliding over and dropping the third of the attacker's wand into her hand which caused the boy bleeding from gouges on his face and hands to let out a shout of alarm that managed to catch the attention of the other two.
They all looked horrified and desperate– and she did not care.
"I warned you," she said, fixing her burning glare on them as Vashti swooped back to land on her shoulder, wings raised high in blatant threat, beak bared. "I warned you." And then, pivoting neatly on her heel, Hermione turned and threw all three wands into the open flames of the crackling fireplace.
The three boys let out identical shouts of horror and Hermione watched with the same sort of dark, burning satisfaction that her Scrapbook of Just Desserts gave her as they all bolted to the fireplace– one swaying and staggering, one leaving a trail of tiny, wriggling fish in his wake, one dripping bright drops of blood over the stone floor– all burning their hands in their panic to snatch their wands from the greedy flames.
Before they could think to turn back to her, Hermione spun, robes swishing about her legs with the movement, and prowled towards the common room exit, only to pause just feet away. Leaning against the wall beside the exit was another student, one she recognised– it was the older Slytherin with the cold eyes, the one who'd laughed when she'd mocked Malfoy and Bole. He'd clearly witnessed the ambush she'd just turned quite decisively back against the ambushers, and he looked... amused, she thought, though there was also something else visible in his dark eyes, something that looked uncomfortably close to interest.
Hermione refused to be cowed by his stare, this boy who'd been all too happy to watch three older students attack a first year without lifting a hand to help. Who'd been just as happy to watch her hand those three older students their arses, again without lifting a hand. Instead, she kept her chin high, her spine unbowed, and smiled at him, sweet as sugar.
"Good morning," she chirped, as if there weren't three boys behind her panicking loudly over the state of their badly charred wands. As if she wasn't half-drenched, her curls plastered to her scalp and back, with the sharp, acrid smell of burnt hair clinging to her.
The corner of the older boy's mouth curved up, amused. "Good morning," he echoed her, the smooth words almost mocking. Hermione resisted the urge to curl her lips back, to show her teeth and snarl like Váli and Hati both. Instead, she channelled Eris, keeping her smile sweet with just an edge of something darker, something threatening. And the older boy... he laughed, looking delighted. "Oh, you're going to do just fine in this snake pit, aren't you?" he said, his question clearly rhetorical. Hermione answered him anyway.
"You can all just try and stop me," she said, tilting her head just how Eris did when expressing just how beneath her everyone else was, "I dare you." And then she swept out of the common room, proud as the pagan gods she loved and worshipped, leaving the older Slytherin and his laughter in her wake.
::
She went and found a bathroom first, where she grimaced at her appearance in the mirror. It wasn't as bad as she'd first thought it might be– she'd put the fire out quickly, so her hair had only burnt for a second or two, but it was long enough to do some damage. Fortunately, she had a lot of hair; very thick, very voluminous, and very curly hair, which made the uneven lengths much less obvious after she'd used one of the stiletto knives to slice off the charred ends. She even managed to cast the Drying Charm from her textbook correctly, after a couple of tries, so she didn't have to go back to the common room to change.
It took her a bit longer to successfully conjure nasturtiums to weave into her curls, but she managed it, and looking in the mirror at the bright orange, yellow and red flowers woven amidst her curls, like licks of flame, she grinned. She wasn't sure if anyone would understand the flower language, but wearing 'conquest; victory in battle' made her feel triumphant. She meant what she'd said; she wouldn't let these students beat her, so let them try. She'd just beat them all, the way she'd beaten Bole and his friends, grinding their bigotry under her heel until they were stuck admitting that their blood prejudice was worthless, that it meant nothing.
There was still some time before breakfast, and Hermione used it to conjure up more nasturtiums which she threaded into a flower-chain necklace for the very smug Vashti, who preened at her reflection. 'We are glorious warriors,' the young phoenix boasted, clicking her beak smugly, 'we are undefeated in battle, the conquerors who will destroy them all!'
'You are very bloodthirsty this morning, sister-of-my-soul,' Hermione teased, and Vashti lifted a foot from her perch on Hermione's shoulder to flash her talons, which for a movement appeared their natural bright gold.
'I am a phoenix, and you are my Chosen,' Vashti said, 'I care not for those who threaten you, who try to hurt you– I will bring the righteous wrath of my kind down on them all!'
'I love you too,' Hermione sent back fondly, with accompanying waves of love and adoration, gently stroking Vashti's beak and adjusting the flower-necklace slightly before finally heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.
In a fit of pique mostly fuelled by the urge to outrage her Housemates and a desire to cause as much chaos as possible, after entering the Great Hall Hermione immediately veered off towards the Hufflepuff table, planting herself down next to Justin and beaming.
"Good morning!" She chirped, and Justin, who had been so engrossed in his book he hadn't even noticed when she sat down, looked up in surprise.
"Oh! Good morning, Hermione," he said with a small, shy smile.
The other Hufflepuffs around them were sending her curious looks, though not hostile ones– Hufflepuff really was living up to its reputation as the 'nice' House. Helga would be proud.
"How are you enjoying classes so far?" Hermione asked, genuinely interested.
"Isn't Transfiguration just amazing?" Justin immediately gushed, his face shining. Hermione's face lit up too.
"Oh, wasn't it?" she agreed happily. "I borrowed copies of the works of Leucippus and Democritus from the library after the class, and it's so fascinating how such a rudimentary understanding of atomic structure created the foundation for a whole branch of magic!"
Vashti cooed fondly as she and Justin fell into a deep conversation about the class, the disguised-phoenix reminding her several times to actually eat some breakfast, and it was a thoroughly pleasant meal, right up until Justin abruptly gave a squeak of alarm and went silent. Hermione was confused for half a moment, before she registered the presence at her back.
"Professor Snape!" she said, startled, turning around on the bench to face him. Her Head of House looked grim.
"Miss Granger," he said. "We need to talk."