Mastermind

“Hermione, love, it’s 1 am. Why are you still awake?” Eleanor Granger walked into their home library to witness her daughter on the floor with inserts of paper clippings all around her and what looks like her journal with said owner busy scribbling away, brows furrowed together in hard concentration.

    “Huh? Oh.. sorry, is it late?” She looked up to see her mother with her head tilted to the side to look at her work better. She slowly lowered herself to the floor with her feet tucked to the side. “What are you working on?” she asked curiously, eyeing her journal. “Remember the events I told you last school term about the feud between my potions professor and the new defense against the dark arts professor? and how Professor Snape was so angry that he outed Professor Lupin to the school committee that he was a werewolf and wanted him out?” Hermione wouldn’t dare tell her mother about Sirius and how her cat Crookshanks let him in the castle and the whole fiasco that happened at the whooping willow; she swears her parents would take her out of Hogwarts the next day if they ever did find out.

    “Ah.. yes, I remember the story; they probably have bad blood between them.” Her mother responded, wondering where her daughter was going with this story. “Yes, that is evident, but I couldn’t understand why Professor Snape would go to such lengths to rat out Professor Lupin, knowing well that he was our best Defense professor. I mean, Dumbledore could easily vouch for him to stay, but he didn’t.” She leaned back against the couch, bringing her knees together to her chest, and looked at her mother, who was listening intently. “Mum, you should have seen him, Professor Snape. He was so angry. I’d never seen him so angry and frustrated, but at that moment, his fury radiated out of him, and he looked like he could kill. I’m just trying to understand what would make him like that.” She rubbed her temples and sighed.

    “Is this what that’s about?” she gestured to the papers that lay before her, her eyes darting from one paper to the other. Hermione sat up straight and folded her legs under her. “Partially, I’ve finished the last of my holiday assignment on goblin wars, and these are the Hogwarts student archives. I found a couple of inserts about the dueling club and the quidditch matches that involved the two professors on two separate occasions, though. Both were part of the dueling club, and Professor Snape used to play quidditch. That’s as far as I’ve gone.” She leaned forward to collect her papers. Her mother reached forward to grab her hands and scooted closer to her.

    “Hermione dear, these are grown men who probably had minor disputes, or they held onto a long school grudge, or, who knows, they may have fought over a girl in school, resulting in what they are today.” She smiled in amusement. “There’s really no telling what could result in their behavior, anger, or distrust. All I ask is that you don’t dig yourself a deeper hole; if It goes a little beyond shallow, I ask that you wade back.” She squeezed her hands. “It’s late, my love time for bed.” She let go of her hand and stood up to pull her daughter from her position on the floor.”

    “You go ahead, mum. I’ll clean up here, then head straight to bed, I promise.” She gave her mother a small smile.

    “Alright, goodnight, Hermione.” As the door closed behind her, she thought about what her mother had said: “…don’t dig a deeper hole..” or was it… scratch that she can’t remember the words, but it’ll come eventually. She collected the papers around her and gathered them in a pile that she should organize by people or events; she made a mental note to work on them before returning to Hogwarts. She grabbed the last paper from the floor; it was a picture of a lanky, thin boy who resembled his older counterpart. It was Professor Snape with a group of well-dressed students during a Christmas party with an interesting club called the Slughorn Club. She studied the picture up close. “Well, at least he’s dressed fancy and not in the usual button-up armor.” Her lips turned into an upward smirk. Hmm… What’s your story, professor? she thought to herself before turning off the lights in the library and heading to her bedroom to retire.

                                                                                                                      ***

“Hermione, love, there’s an owl in the kitchen.” Kenneth Granger called out to his daughter as he let the owl with a letter in its beak into the kitchen and onto the table. “Behave, or Eleanor will shoo you from the table,” he said sternly to the bird before grabbing the cup and refilling his tea.

    Eleanor Granger walks into the kitchen and eyed curiously at the owl on the table. “That a different bird I wonder who it’s from.” She grabbed a piece of sausage from her plate and fed the bird, who dropped the letter instantly. She picked up the letter and turned it over, “Ah! It’s a Hogwarts letter, probably the new term school books.” she marveled as she bit into her crumpets.

    Hermione ran down the stairs and burst into the kitchen. “Is it from the Weasleys?” she grabbed the letter off the table. “Hogwarts?” she expressed her disappointment. “It’s a bit early for schoolbooks.” she sat by her father at the table to open her letter; her mother poured her a cup of tea as she glanced at her letter. “You’re still not doing that thing with the time necklace from the last term, are you? that was supposed to be for last term only” her mother eyed her carefully.

    “No, not this term, but I did drop Divination and Muggle studies,” she sighed as she glanced back at her letter. Dumbledore wants me to spend the remainder of the break at the Weasleys.

    “Well, in that case, we can knock off the textbook buying today at Diagon Alley while we can. Your father and I have a full schedule for the upcoming week. When do you leave?”

    “In two days, that gives me enough time to get a head start in reading, packing, and beating father in checkers.” she grinned cheekily at her father, who had his mouth full of toast and eggs. Eleanor laughed, handing a piece of crumpet to the owl. “Actually, if it’s okay with the both of you, I’d like to do my own back-to-school shopping alone; I promise I won’t be long.” she looked at her mother with pleading eyes. Knowing fully well that if she asked her father, he’d tell her to ask her mother instead.

    She mentally found it humorous; she loved her parent’s relationship. She would sometimes catch her father staring at her mother while she was playing the piano, making dinner, or just about any activity. They would banter and tease but never argue; if they did argue, it would be over something ridiculous, whether it was something they read about, lyric writers, or theater plays in London. She longed for a love like theirs that would hopefully find a way to her or smack her in the face full force.

    “What do you think, Kenneth? should we let our only daughter out and about alone in Diagon Alley?” she looked at her husband, smirking.

    “Last term was a success having her go the leaky cauldron alone to stay with the Weasleys, who were boarding rooms a day prior to leaving for Hogwarts. I’d say she’s a capable witch, BUT! At the first sign of trouble, Hermione, you come straight home, send an owl, or ring us. Is that clear?” He looked at her sternly.

    “Yes, sir.” she smiled at him dearly. He scoffed and rolled his eyes “Now that’s sorted, you’ve got your Gringotts key, and bring back a Wizarding book on herbal medicines or medical practice, will you? I’m curious about how they do dental cleaning and surgeries with magic; it’ll be an interesting read. She nodded and quickly excused herself from the table to get ready. Her parents shared a knowing look at each other, one that would portray how lucky they were to have Hermione as their daughter and a witch in the family.”

                                                                                                                      ***

    “I have just about everything except Practical Potions.” She glanced at her list again to ensure she didn’t miss anything. Honestly, why get the textbook if he doesn’t teach from it? She glanced at the bookshelves that graced the walls at Flourish and Blotts. Her fingers brushed over texts and tombs that captured her interests, from magical warfare to the history of curse breakers. The smell of new parchment mingled with old and pots of ink happily called out to her in the store as she continued to trace her finger on every book, reading the spines, walking backward until she bumped into someone accidentally.

    Oomph

    “My apologies, I got carried away; I didn’t….”

    “Maybe if you tied those things you called hair out of your face, Miss Granger, you could certainly see where you were going.” Hermione didn’t need to look up to see who that voice belonged, but she did anyway out of respect to look people in the eyes when talking to them.

    “My apologies, Professor Snape. I was just getting your textbook for your class next term.”

    “It’s a bit early to purchase textbooks, don’t you think, Miss Granger?” He sneered in distasteful, peering down at her.

    “Yes… well, Professor Dumbledore told me to get it done prior to heading to the Burrow, Sir.” She answered truthfully, clutching her book bag to her chest.

    “How marvelous for the Headmaster to get Hogwarts know-it-all a head start above everyone else. Tell me, Miss Granger, how does it feel to be the one privileged to get their term school supplies first?” he spat disapprovingly at her, arching his brow as he crossed his arms across his chest. How convenient for Dumbledore to get the terms list in advance for the Gryffindor Chit. When he could’ve just added her to the list with the Weasleys, knowing full well Potter would also be there as it has become a tradition that the three would gather before term commences. Oh, how he loathe her.

    “I’m sorry, Professor, it was never my intention, but I am a follower of instructions, and I do what I am told; if you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up to Headmaster Dumbledore, sir.” She replied defiantly; her unruly hair sparked briefly for a moment before she walked past him to head to the right shelf to pick up the potions textbook. Still an arse, I see, like that’s ever going to change. She scoffed. She purchased her book and walked out before he followed her and gave her advanced detention before term began if that was ever a thing. She didn’t dawdle to find out.

    Meanwhile, Severus stared as she walked past him with an air of defiance around her. Why that little arrogant… He rolled his eyes and set off to find the new release of Potions Digest before he finished that sentence. The Potions Digest featured a variety of research works by Potion Mastery Students from every Wizarding country. He gets to read and analyze their work and submit a review of criticism of it, and he was going to be brutal and leave them crying. As he rounded a turn to head to the front of the store to purchase his find, he watched as the little Gryffindor know-it-all made her purchase and turned to leave. Thank goodness, he wasn’t expecting to see her in Diagon Alley today of all days; he scoffed, made his purchase, and headed to Hogwarts immediately for a glass of firewhiskey in his chambers to relieve his headache that was starting to form.

    “Severus, how lucky am I to see you here today, out and about.” the voice drawled. Severus didn’t turn around to know who it was. He stepped back from the floo that was conveniently located inside the three broomsticks that were only accessible to Hogwarts staff from the staff meeting room and only activated during the school break. So much for a quiet day; he sighed and turned to look at Lucius Malfoy, who had a plastered smirk on his face. “A word outside, Severus.” He gestured and led the way. There is indeed no rest for the wicked.

                                                                                                                      ***

    “Well, well, if it isn’t Granger, what are you doing at this neck of the woods? are you lost?” He mocked her as he browsed the Quidditch glove sections.

    Out of all the days to bump into two Slytherins, it had to be today. “Since you’re so nosey, Malfoy, I’ll tell you, I’m looking for a birthday present for Harry.” She grabbed a book titled ‘Quidditch Playbook in Worldcups’ and a pair of dragon claw grip gloves.

    Oo…..

    “Potter’s got himself a little mudblood girlfriend, doesn’t he?” in an instant, Hermione dropped everything and pushed Malfoy against the shelves, grabbing the front of his suit in her fists as she slammed him again on his back.

    “Would you like to relive the scene of what happened last term? I seemed to recall you whimpering like a little dog as you ran away with your little minions after I punched you in the face.” She hissed

    “You wouldn’t dare not with my father mere steps away, although I like to see you try.” He smirked.

    He smirked! Ugh, this little slimeball!

    “This might just be your lucky day, Malfoy.” She released him and pushed him again before gathering her things from the floor to proceed with her purchase. She walked out and made eye contact with Malfoy Senior and Professor Snape, who seemed to be conversing before catching sight of her. Both parties turned to look at her with a faceless expression.

    Great! Just a day with all the snakes out and about.

    Hermione paid no attention to them and headed back to Muggle London.

                                                                                                                      ***

    “Okay, focus and think Hermione; think from the very beginning, first year.” She scribbled in her journal. She was trying to write down all the events that occurred in her first year with her friends. Harry and Ron became inseparable after the troll scare; she truly found friends that like her for her. In Primary school, everyone laughed at her unruly hair and teeth. She irritated them to the bone, but she thought she was just “correcting” them with the right facts and would always inject herself into conversations just so she had someone to talk with during recess and lunch.

    Hogwarts is where she really found how to make friends; it was never about how intelligent she was; what mattered at that moment in the girls’ lavatory was their shared experience and her newfound loyalty to them when she took the blame; it was the beginning of understanding really. Then it just all went to shite; being with the boys, more like being with Harry, because it means she’s being subjected to all the shite that comes with associating with him; yes, it’s all fun and games until she’s the one solving riddles. If there’s one thing she’s noticed is that every year, it becomes progressively dangerous, and she needs to be prepared to help Harry in every way she can.

    She opened her journal and scanned through the first few pages of all she recollected from her first three years in Hogwarts. She wrote everything down during the break after her third; maybe it’ll help her in the future. What she, Harry, and Ron had to go through, from the obstacles in the Philosopher Stone to the Chamber of Secrets, and then there’s saving Sirius and Buckbeak. She scanned through the Polaroids on the pages, reminiscing through those times when she thought she wouldn’t live to see her parents again.

    Hermione thought about all the people she came in contact with. Maybe it’ll help her connect the dots to something connected to Harry or Voldemort. “Villain, first-year Professor Quirrell/ Voldemort on the back of his head under the turban.” She felt goosebumps on her skin.

    Ugh, creepy.

    “Then there’s Professor Snape, who we thought jinxed Harry’s broom, but it turned out he was the one ‘trying’ to protect Harry.” Hmph, it must be a complicated counter-course if he’s been muttering it for that long. She wrote it down in her journal. Actually, she delicate two pages for her sour face, potions professor; she wrote in big, bold letters his name in the center of the pages and drew lines to a fact she knew about him, starting with what she knows about him through his actions. Definitely not words.

    Next on her list of people is Dumbledore, Headmaster Dumbledore, she corrected herself. She also dedicated two pages to Hogwarts’ beloved Headmaster and wrote down facts pertaining to the said headmaster, starting with Defeated Grindelwald in 1945. He knows wandless and silent magic and can possibly read minds, needs to prove this fact. I’m definitely sure he can see the future; he knows all and sees all. He has a Phoenix as a familiar, extremely rare; not a lot of people have a magical, mythical bird as a pet, and he used to teach transfiguration. She jotted her facts down in the pages reserved for him. He’s Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

    Is that all I know about him? She stared, puzzled at what she had written in her book. Hermione thought long and hard about anything that might pertain to the Headmaster and facts or anything she might have heard, but alas, nothing. She frowned. I’ll add to his page if I come across anything, she told herself.

    Hermione turned a page over and wondered who else she should write down, and as if her hand had a mind of its own, she wrote Harry Potter. She stared in bewilderment, of course! why not? It would make sense to write him down. She noticed him reaching for his scar as if it hurt, but when she’d ask, he would dismiss her, saying it was just a scratch, but his facial expression could not lie. She started writing everything she observed and knew about Harry, from the Dursleys to Sirius and everything in between that she had at the top of her head. A familiar knock on the library door distracted her from her thoughts.

    Knock, Knock, Knock

    “Hermione, dear, have you packed for the Weasleys?” Eleanor Granger peeks through the door to see her daughter hunched over her journal and parchment scattered all over. “I have just jotted down some last-minute thoughts,” she replied as she closed her book and gathered all her papers together.

    “Dinner’s ready, and your father could not put that book down.” She chuckled as she shook her head from side to side.

    “I thought it might interest him, Enamel Enchantments: A Wizard’s Guide to Dental Health and Healing” by Flossia Dentura. It’s a good book.” Hermione smiled tenderly at her mother as she placed all her items into her book bag.

    “I’ll never hear the end of it.” Her mother laughed as she closed the library door behind her.

                                                                                                                      ***

    That night in bed, she stared at the ceiling; her father covered it with glow stars when she was 5, and she loved it ever since she couldn’t take it down; it grounded her thoughts. She felt a tug in her naval; this year is going to be different; it wouldn’t be like the other years in school. She couldn’t shake the feeling away.

    She grabbed her journal from her bookbag and flipped through the pages until it landed on Harry’s appointed page. Her finger traced the words she had written earlier; she knew there'd be more words added later in the pages of the respective people she had written in her book; she sat up against her headboard as she turned the pages to Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore.

There’s a pattern, there’s a story, there’s a common denominator. Albus Dumbledore. She turned her lights off and went to sleep. It’s going to be a very long term.

                                                                                                                      ***

“We have to tell her, Kenneth.” Eleanor had her arm across her chest with her right hand fidgeting her necklace. “Not yet, my love, it’s too soon.” The Grangers waved goodbye to their daughter as the green flame engulfed their fireplace.