Hermione
She had overslept, and if there was one thing she simply could not stand, it was being late. It completely ruined everything she had ever planned for her day, but she particularly hated it when she was late to meet someone else. She knew she hated it when others were tardy to meet with her, therefore she owed the same respect to those she had appointments with as well. She hadn’t even given herself a glance in the mirror prior to racing out of her dormitory. Thank Merlin, that horrid vial hadn’t been waiting for her that morning or she wasn’t sure what she would have done.
She raced down the corridors whilst making a harried attempt to twist her thick hair into something she could shove her wand through in order to hide its unkempt state. When she spotted the statue, she hurriedly muttered the password. Anxiety compelled her foot to tap in at a rapid rhythm as she waited for the heavy stone doorway to shift, unveiling the stairwell up to the Headmistress’s office. She took two stairs at a time, trying her best not to faceplant as she raced upwards.
Her breaths were heaving as she finally halted at the entrance to McGonnagall’s office.
“Well, good morning Miss Granger. Are you feeling alright? I was beginning to worry that you were ill. I was just about to send a patronus to Madame Pomphrey to see if you were with her.”
Her face flushed in embarrassment. “No Headmistress, I simply overslept. I do apologize for my tardiness. I suppose I’ve been a bit overtired lately and slept through my wand alarms.”
She watched as what she could only describe as pity appeared in Minerva’s eyes. “Oh, that is quite understandable dear. I imagine you aren’t the only one. Preparing for NEWTs is quite stressful for the average student and you have always taken your studies more seriously than most. Please do try not to overwork yourself.”
Hermione made the intentional decision not to correct her explanation for why she hadn’t been sleeping well. It would not hurt anything to allow the older woman to believe that she was only worried about exams she could have aced in her sleep rather than with the remnant hauntings of being a child soldier. She pushed down the ember of frustration that had taken up like a permanent organ in the pit of her stomach. It would do nothing for her day to argue with the woman when she certainly was not the one at fault for forcing her into this mess.
Minerva held out a hand, inviting her to take a seat on the small settee off to the side of the round room as the woman slowly lowered herself into an armchair across from her.
“Now, Miss Granger, I’ve no doubt you’ve been quite busy since your return to the castle, but please, how are you? Have you been adjusting back to school alright?”
She swallowed the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, I believe given the circumstances I’ve been alright. I am quite pleased with the new accommodations and the privacy we’ve been allotted as eighth years. I spend most of my time the way that I always have, either with Harry or Ginny or in the library.”
“And the other students? I know even before the return of Voldemort, you had several issues with Mister Malfoy, has he been bothering you? I’m under strict orders from the Ministry to report any untoward behavior from him and his friends. While I do firmly believe that the unity efforts are vital, please don’t feel as though you cannot report any concerns should you feel unsafe.”
Hermione couldn’t bury it fast enough, a manic giggle bubbled past her lips.
She watched Minvera’s brows furrow in confusion and she tried and failed to cease the laughing episode. Struggling to center herself, she managed to speak between bouts of inappropriate chuckling. “Feel unsafe? Here? At the permanent monument and site of the final battle of a war where my friends were murdered? Where I spent years as a literal child being nothing but a malleable puppet easily maneuvered and manipulated by a deranged old man to help another child fulfill a secret prophecy in which he had to literally sacrifice himself? Where myself and my friends and classmates have been attacked and nearly killed on several occasions since we were only eleven years old? Surely you don’t continue to believe the absolute rubbish that Hogwarts is supposedly the safest place from dark wizards or danger in general? I can’t think of a place more dangerous when considering the events that have occurred here over the last century.” Hermione took a few slow breaths to try and recollect herself. She could feel the tears dripping from her chin onto the hands she held tightly clenched in her lap.
“Trust me when I say that I have read Hogwarts: A History more times than I could possibly recall, so I understand the historical and magical significance of the school, and trust me that I continue to despise Draco Malfoy and everything he and his family have stood for, but if there is anything untoward I’d like you to report to the Ministry, it would be their cruel decision to coerce those of us that lost so much here less than half a year ago to return to this place and act as if all is well. That is where the cruelty lies.”
She lifted her gaze to stare firmly into McGonnagall’s eyes, the only way she felt she could further cement how serious she was. The woman simply nodded in understanding.
“Yes, Miss Granger I do quite understand what you mean. Unfortunately, most of the decisions were out of my hands. I can only do what is within my power to make the best of it for all of you. The Board of Governors and the Minister made the decisions. I will most certainly remind them of your valid points at our next meeting.” She paused to summon a tea tray from the desk across the room. Silently she prepared two cups before holding one out in offer.
Hermione was glad to have something to do with her hands. Her fingernails had been moments from splitting the skin of her palms had she clenched them closed a moment longer. The warmth radiating through the ceramic did a little to calm her frayed nerves. She took a long sip to soothe her tense throat before continuing, “I believe that these meetings were scheduled to discuss our plans for the future, Headmistress.”
“That is correct. If I recall correctly, you plan to apply for Auror training with Mr. Potter, is that still the case?”
Hermione shuddered at the idea of doing anything that involved regular magical combat encounters, “No, I had moved on from that idea during sixth year. I’d say I’ve had my fair share of searching for cursed artifacts and fighting dark wizards. My lifetime quota is quite overfull. In August, I exchanged several letters with Olivia Green, who I’m sure you remember from her previous post here as a professor. Before her brief time teaching here, she was an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries in the brain room. I shared several of my hypotheses and goals with her and she agreed that I would be most likely to succeed in my research with the resources of the Department of Mysteries at my disposal. That is the avenue I intend to pursue.”
“And what exactly is this research you’d like to accomplish, Miss Granger? Being an Unspeakable can be quite isolating and lonely. Very little room for collaboration when you’re bound to confidentiality in that manner.”
“I’ve always successfully worked on my own. Doing research or projects in secret is nothing new for me. Surely, you recall my time in the hospital wing after successfully brewing Polyjuice hidden away in a lavatory during my second year. Ron and Harry most definitely had no hand in that months-long project. I’m entirely confident in my decision and the Department of Mysteries has autonomy that other departments and corporations simply do not. My area of research pertains to the magical nervous system and the mind. I’ve several proposals that focus on the way that exposure to certain spells impacts cognition and the physical structures of the cerebrum, particularly the prefrontal cortex, the amygdala, and the hippocampus. I would like to combine the superior advancements in muggle medical research with what we know are consequences of curses or other magic. Take the residents of the Janis Thickey ward for example. Those affected by extensive exposure to unforgivable curses, potions gone wrong, memory tampering…” She trailed off to a whisper, “I won’t bore you with further details, but surely you understand my general intentions.”
“I have no doubts that you will change the lives of many, Miss Granger. The Department of Mysteries has no set NEWT requirements, each candidate is considered on an individual basis. Based on what you just described to me, it looks like you’re enrolled in plenty of appropriate NEWT courses which I have no doubt you’ll receive excellent marks in and add to your already impressive resume.” The Headmistress shuffled through several sheets of parchment. “Now, our last bit of business. As a part of the new course, each student has been assigned another student for the perspectives in Polyjuice project. As we have begun administering the potions, I would just like to reiterate the importance of being open to the experience and trying to ensure it is as authentic and realistic as possible in order for it to have its full impact. While I know you don’t struggle with empathy or compassion, Hermione dear, I do just want to make sure you try to gain something from the experience. While I cannot disclose who you have been assigned to, I do think it will be highly enlightening for both you and your partner.”
Hermione nodded as she tried to tease out what exactly the Headmistress was intentionally not saying.
“That is all for today. I will see you in class tomorrow,” Minerva dismissed her as she vanished the remnants of their tea from sight.
When Hermione exited the stairs into the corridor below, she nearly walked directly into the tall, lithe form of Theodore Nott who had apparently been leaning against the stone door before it had slid away into the adjacent wall.
“Oof- what in the-” she nearly shrieked as she stuck out her hands for something to stabilize herself before she fell to the ground.
“Granger dear, while I do find it flattering, I simply don’t play for your team,” the teasing melody of Nott’s voice sang as he tried to extricate her hands from where she clung to the chest of his robes. “Now, your dear friend Potter on the other hand… I would most certainly play with him.”
She couldn’t seem to process everything that was happening quick enough, she was backing away when she noted the smirk of his lips and the flirtatious wink he shot to someone over her shoulder before he made his way up to stairs for his appointment.
She simply stared open-mouthed as the implications of what he had said finally dawned on her. Was Theodore Nott interested in Harry? The idea seemed inconceivable. They didn’t even know each other! She remembered his final action and spun around to see none other than Harry himself standing a few meters away, face flushed a rosy pink while his eyes were wide with shock.
“Oh, I believe you have some interesting developments to fill me in on, Harry,” a small smile blossomed across her face at the idea of her best friend finding someone who could make him feel as flustered as he looked in that moment.
The blush only crept further up his neck and darkened his cheeks, “We’ve only just become friends, I didn’t realize… I had no idea… Do you think he was just teasing? Surely he didn’t mean it?” She watched as Harry spiraled at the new revelation.
“I supposed you’ll just have to ask him, Harry.”
They walked side by side to the Great Hall to share lunch. Neville was seated alone when they entered so they made themselves comfortable across from him.
He was being oddly quiet which left Hermione feeling uneasy, “Is everything alright Neville?” She observed her friend for any signs of illness or injury. She wasn’t one to study the way others use utensils but she had never in all seven years of her time sharing meals with this wizard, seen him hold his fork and knife so… formally? He held his fork primly in his left hand, and his knife never left his right. He used them in tandem with a practiced ease that felt off. While Neville had never been the sloppy, primal eater that Ronald had always been, with no care for mess or decorum, he had never been so tense and rigid. He was eating as if the Queen herself was seated beside him.
He never looked up to respond to her inquiry, only continued about his meal in silence. Harry had made several attempts to talk about their herbology assignment, but Neville’s focus remained intently on the plate before him. He was acting as if they weren’t even there. Once his food was gone, he stood and rushed from the hall without so much as a goodbye. She watched him stop briefly to whisper something to… she stretched from her seat to see. It was Pansy Parkinson. He wouldn’t speak to her or Harry but he would speak to Parkinson? How strange…