To Melt Down Gold

The plan is simple.

Wait for the holiday break.

Go to Malfoy Manor just long enough to make certain Draco is far away from Hogwarts when she lures a broken shard of a dark wizard.

Return to the castle and get past the three headed dog.

Then whatever else follows.

It is the whatever else follows that Hermione is struggling with.

So even though Dumbledore had all but ordered her to attend all of her lessons and Lucius had made it clear that she was going to stop embarrassing him or else, Hermione spends the last month before the break getting detention.

First with Sprout who provided Dumbledore with a particularly nasty plant Hermione is pretty sure also grows in Malfoy Manor’s greenhouse. She had hexed some Ravenclaw from her year right in front of her. Spent the hour of her detention probing Sprout’s mind and weeding baby cargamies. When she is done her hands are covered in itchy spots.

Then she interrupts one of McGonagall’s classes with a box of mice transfigured into birds of prey. Her detention is a bit more vindictive. She has Hermione turn needles back into matchsticks for the entire hour. Sits there and watches her so she can’t do it all in one batch.

When she is done, Hermione knows that she’ll need to practise her chess game before she can enter the chamber.

Apparating won’t be an option given she doesn’t know where she is going. She might be able to see far enough ahead, but it is a risk she doesn’t want to take. She’ll play along with the games Dumbledore has set.

After that, she floats all of Flitwick’s books and sticks them to the roof of his classroom. His trap provides a bit more of a complication. She can’t fly. And she won’t know what key she is looking for.

Severus puts a stop to things a week before the Christmas break.

“You won’t get in my head, Miss. Granger. So you may as well give up on your frankly stupid plan.” 

Hermione glares and pushes into a different part of Snape’s brain. 

Lily.

The pair of them lying beneath a tree.

And then she presses a different path.

He shuts her out in less than a breath.

“Like I said,” Snape says imperiously.

Hermione sneers.

She needs to know what he has provided Dumbledore.

“How do you know what I am planning? Lucius tell you what he wants me to do?”

“I don’t agree with Lucius’s plan to use an eleven year old girl to do his bidding.”

So Lucius had told Severus what he had asked of her this time.

“But I can assume that you will try to do as he asks.” He sighs.

“What alternative do I have?” She asks.

In reality, she is taking an alternative that is purely self serving.

Retrieving the stone and using it to test her theory about the parts of Tom’s soul that are encased in his special little objects.

Severus sighs again. It makes him so much older than he is. At 32, he is burdened practically into middle age.

“Go home for the holiday. Worry about proving yourself next year,” Severus says, not unkindly.

Hermione knows that he likes her. That he thinks she is bright and resourceful and damaged just like him.

She believes that he wants what is best for her. She just doesn’t believe that that is what he wants above all else.

“Will I see you at Yule?” She asks, giving in.

“Yes.”

Fine. Hermione turns around and walks away.

“You are still a child, Hermione Granger.”

She nods, but doesn’t turn back to look at her professor. 

Hermione may be stalled, but her anger still searches for somewhere to go. 

She wants to hurt Lucius the most.

Draco would hate her for it.

And she’d end up back under the switch, asking for forgiveness.

Narcissa is actually on her side for once, so she moves past that fairly quickly.

Dumbledore isn’t worth it. Not right now.

And Tom is basically a mirage.

Severus is only trying to help.

But Tetros Nott? 

No one in the world would blame her for using him as a pressure-release valve for her anger.

He has been on Hermione’s list for months.

It is finding Theo on a freezing cold morning with a knife in his hand and blood on his arm that moves him to the top.

“What are you doing?” She asks, even though she can see perfectly well that he is hurting himself.

“Hermione,” Theo blinks, tears running down tracks and falling from his face onto his robes.

She kneels in front of him and takes the knife.

“He told me it would help. Make me strong.”

Her heart breaks for the boy in front of her.

“He’s wrong.”

“But I- Hermione I’m not what he wants,” Theo shakes his head as if trying to shake off his father’s condemnations.

She slips the knife into the fold of her robes. 

“Have you ever felt stronger? After carving into yourself?”

He meets her eyes and something more than despair flashes there.

“You don’t understand. He expects me to- to be like him. I don’t know how to be what he wants.”

She heals the cuts on his arm and then takes his hand in hers.

“What would happen, Theo? If your father died? What would happen to you?”

He’s confused.

He looks at her and their hands and then sniffles.

“I don’t know. It would just be me. Father doesn’t have any other relatives.”

“Who would look after you?” She asks, getting to the meat of it.

She has already decided that Tetros Nott will be receiving a visit. She just hasn’t decided if he’ll survive it.

“The trust will have appointed someone. Probably Silvie. She was my governess. Now she’s the housekeeper. I would be Lord Nott.”

“Even though you aren’t of age?” She asks.

“Hermione, why are you asking all of this?” He finally seems to have realized how strange it is. Her wanting to know about his guardianship just after finding him hurting himself.

“Theo, your father is a bastard. And I can’t just watch him do this to you. I thought that you were safe, here at the castle. Away from him. But this- Theo he’s bled too much of you.”

She squeezes his hand.

His brow furrows.

Hermione waits for him to realize why she’s asking so many barmy questions. To realize what she is offering.

He doesn’t say no when it sinks in. And she can see the exact moment it does. 

“Even though I’m not of age, I’d still get everything. Even the seat on the Wizengamot. Septus Malfoy was only 7 when he took on his father’s seat.”

And then Theo Nott smiles so bright that for the first time Hermione notices that he has a dimple on the right side of his face.

“Would you like to come?” Hermione asks.

He nods.

“Now?” She asks, tightening her grip.

He nods again.

She uses his memories to bring them to Nott Manor.

A pleasant one that shows her the gardens behind the front gate. His mother walking with Theo’s hands in hers and his feet on her toes.

And a not so pleasant one that shows her the front door. Tetros Nott throwing his son out in the rain, bruises on his face clear in the crack of lightning that splits the moment.

“Hermione,” Theo whispers when they land. He’s shaking.

She turns and looks at him in question.

“I- I want it to hurt.”

The wicked smile that spreads across her face makes Theo swallow, steeling himself.

And then she unlocks the door with a wave of her hand.

Finding Lord Nott is easy.

He’s already dressed for the day, having apparently skipped his own blood letting. Surely feeling strong enough to face the day without carving into himself.

It always struck Hermione as odd how parents could tell their children one truth and then live by another.

“Lord Nott,” Hermione greets the man who is sitting at his breakfast table, the Daily Prophet in front of him.

He lowers the paper, an angry sneer already there. His eyes narrow as he sees his son by her side.

“Malfoy's pet Mudblood,” Lord Nott sneers.

Her smile only grows.

“I came to return something of yours. Something that your son clearly isn’t ready to wield,” she informs him sweetly, walking over to his table and setting the knife down in front of him. His son’s blood is still on the blade.

Hermione wanted him to know exactly how little blood someone she loved had to shed for her to exact vengeance on their behalf.

“He’s no son of mine. He is weak. Cowering behind a girl who thinks she is powerful.”

Theo isn’t cowering. In fact, he is standing at her side with more anger than fear showing on his face.

“She is powerful,” Theo defends her. Nothing to say for himself.

This man has done a real number on him.

Tetros laughs.

Hermione swears it will be the last one he ever has.

She uses his breakfast spread against him, taking every joy in it.

Dousing him in water while his goblet turns into cuffs that tether him to his chair.

Stuffing his mouth with the silk napkin, keeping it snug with the spoon he’d have used for the porridge she tips onto his lap.

Afterall, she’s only eleven.

It doesn’t take long for his angry mumbling to turn into fear.

Probably because of the fork and knife that are poised in the air in front of his chest, ready to slice into him.

“You contribute nothing to this world, Lord Nott. Lucius Malfoy has taught me a lot about contributing. Serving a purpose. How important it is for someone to do what they can with the gifts they have been given.”

She vanishes his shirt and uses the prophet to slice into his arms, a hundred paper cuts that make him squeal like a stuck pig.

“Hermione.”

Theo is standing next to the table. His hand is resting beside the knife she’d taken from him just a few minutes earlier.

“Oh Theo. I’m sorry. I’m making this all about me. Would you like me to give you a minute with your father?”

She’s looked into his mind. He wants him dead. Wants him to hurt first. Isn’t sure if he can do both.

“Why don’t I give you a few minutes to say goodbye and then I’ll make sure he finishes his breakfast?” She suggests.

For a split second, fear flashes in Theo’s eyes.

Fear of her.

Hermione isn’t upset by it. She is something to be feared. She’d merely forgotten.

“Thank you,” Theo says, nodding.

She excuses herself, wandering through the manor to Tetros Nott’s office. The last time she’d been here she’d been delivering the pinky bone of an enemy of his. She makes quick work of finding what she is looking for.

Sticks it in her pocket and wanders back, listening to Tetros Nott scream.

Apparently Theo wasn’t as weak as his father thought.

“You are no son of mine! I will kill you for this!” 

Hermione chuckles. Such brave words from such a slimy creature.

“I am your son. You cannot deny me. My blood and yours are the same. And I will take everything you have built and burn it to the ground.”

She is so proud of Theo.

She should have offered this months ago.

When she walks back in she is pleased to find the knife buried in Lord Nott’s thigh. He’s bleeding pretty heavily though. Which will require her to work quickly.

“You are going to die today. And I’m going to erase any legacy you thought you were laying. No part of me will belong to you anymore.” Theo is crying. His words are stone though.

Lord Nott, soon to be deceased, shouts and cries and condemns his son.

“Theo, shall I?” She asks.

He nods, and she silences him.

“I can’t do it myself,” he admits.

Hermione pulls the knife out and lays it back on the table.

“I never expected you to,” she replies.

And then she uses every spell on that lovely list that Lord Nott had provided his son so generously.

Slices, shocks, boils, and torments the man who created the only dark part of Theodore Nott. A darkness that will be sated today. And hopefully, if she has any real power in the world, a darkness that won’t ever need to be fed again.

Tetros Nott’s heart gives out before she can do anything truly destructive. 

It is a good thing, she realizes. She’d hate for her message to be misconstrued.

Lucius Malfoy’s allies are not safe. Lords of the Sacred 28 are not safe. 

And anyone who hurts her friends is not safe.

Not anymore.