Chapter 3
Draco makes his way up to the castle slowly, disturbed by his conversation with Pansy. Being a woman in The Dark Lord’s England was difficult to say the least. Draco knew that Pansy had been assaulted multiple times. Her brother’s friend Edmund was a repeat offender, and Pansy’s family just sat back and did nothing. They continued to allow him in their home and to be alone with Pansy, even knowing the things he was doing to her. They had even instructed her to be “more biddable,” and punished her when she tried to fight him off. They turned a blind eye because he was the son of a prominent Death Eater, and a Death Eater himself. Men with the Mark were given carte blanche when it came to taking what they wanted, from sexual partners to goods in a store; if they wanted it, they got it.
Things weren’t much better at Slytherin. Pansy was one of only a handful of girls left at the school as a result of the constant torture and assault they were subjected to. Pansy survived by turning her bitterness and rage to her advantage. She was a brutal fighter. She could best many of the boys at hand-to-hand combat, and she was the best in the school when it came to dueling. She was also incredible at brewing poisons. Draco wishes there was more he could do to help and protect her, but if he’s honest with himself, he can’t even help and protect himself.
He shakes himself from these thoughts as he pushes open the giant wooden doors and walks into the entrance hall where Professor Snape is handing out prefect assignments. Draco saunters up to the headmaster, trying to evoke an air of indifference and nonchalance.
“Draco. You’re late. I was about to demote you and promote Crabbe in your place,” sneered the headmaster. It was an empty threat, and Draco knew it. He just smirked and held out his hand. Snape handed him his assignment and swept away, his black cloak billowing dramatically in his wake. God, that man is such a drama queen, thought Draco. Despite his own penchant for dramatics, Snape saw no need for dramatics in anything or anyone else. As soon as he had been made headmaster, he had done away with all of the pomp and circumstance that had once surrounded the first day of term. Which is how Draco came to be leading a small group of first years on a tour of the castle.
At first the questions were normal, “what is that?” and “why?” being the most common. But as the tour went on, the boys began asking things like “when do we start learning the unforgivable curses?” and “how many people have you crucioed?” When a tiny boy the size of a gnat asked Draco if he’s ever performed Avada Kadavra, Draco announced that the tour was officially over, and took them to the common room to get their rooms sorted before dinner. The manic glee on the boys’ faces as they’d asked the questions made Draco’s stomach heave. God, he could use a hit. He turns and makes his way down to the dungeons.
Draco turns the last corner and feels the pit in his stomach ease slightly. She is there. She still looks like hell, but she’s there and she’s engaged in the conversation with Theo and Blaise. As he draws closer, he notices the slightly glazed look to her eyes and knows they started without him after all. But he doesn’t say anything, and the other boys look at him with gratitude. Draco sits on the ground next to Theo. He looks at Pansy and can see that she’s making up her mind about something. She looks up at him, takes a deep breath, and begins telling them the horrors that awaited her on her holiday.
“My parents threw a party. The members of our family were the only people in attendance that were not Death Eaters. My idiot father is so desperate to be part of the inner circle, he’ll do just about anything. Edmund was there with all of his slimy Death Eater friends. At first, everyone played nice and treated us with respect. And then…” She had to take several drags before she could continue. “Then they said they were bored and needed us to entertain them. They put my mother under the imperious curse and made her perform lewd acts and say… vile things. When my father tried to intervene, they performed the cruciatus curse on him until he was nothing more than a drooling, whimpering pile on the floor. I could tell my brother was sickened, but he sat there, saying nothing.”
She pauses again, chugging alcohol from the bottle she has clutched tight in her hand. Then she continues, “Then it was my turn. Edmund dragged me to my bedroom and immobilized me with a spell. And… and… then he…… and after… he left me there and told them all they could have a go…..” The look on her face as she relays this information is something that will live in Draco’s nightmares for the rest of his life. Draco feels like he is going to vomit, and from the look on his friends’ faces, he’s not the only one. Pansy is unable to say more and takes another long pull from her bottle and another long drag from the joint as they all process what she just said. Draco drags his hand down his face and is unsurprised to find it comes away wet.
Draco knows Pansy well enough and has been through tough times with her enough to know that the last thing she wants or needs right now is for them to rage and fume on her behalf, or even to say anything at all. She just needs them to listen and to be there with her. He hopes his voice doesn’t give away his emotions as he turns to Theo. “So, where’s the good stuff? I think we could all use it.”
A bit later, when Draco’s defenses are sufficiently lowered, he asks “how did we ever believe all this shite? I still don’t understand how all of this happened. How did we all get like this? Am I making any sense?”
Blaise snorts, but Pansy looks at him almost lucidly, and Theo answers, his Scottish brogue stronger under the influence of drug and drink, his eyes taking on a shiny appearance as his gift with the Sight takes over. “Yes, dear Draco. You are, in fact, making sense to anyone with ears to hear and eyes to see. We believed it because it’s what we were taught. We didn’t know any better. In all honesty, we still don’t. None of us really knows anything beyond what we’ve been told within these walls. I See that one day we’ll learn the truth of all this, that we’ll finally understand. I See you… I see you, Draco. You look happy. I don’t know how it happens, but I See it. You’re at peace, you’re happy.” Theo had always had a bit of the Sight. He’d seen little things, like who had stolen his toy or when his father would be coming home drunk; although he really didn’t need the Sight for that, it was basically every night. It wasn’t until the drugs that he really started to See things. His inhibitions would lower, and in would come an influx of unbidden information, whether he wanted to See it or not.
“The Dark Lord needs to be stopped, and his hatred snuffed out. It has been allowed to grow and to fester for too long. There is something… or someone… we must find in order to stop him. Something… hollow?” He shakes himself slightly and his eyes return to normal. “Well that doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
Blaise laughs. “No, mate. Not a bit. But we’ve come to expect that from you when you’re in your cups.” Theo punches him in the arm, but grins up at them, blushing slightly. Pansy almost manages to grin back.
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Hermione is sitting at a large round table in the dining hall with Harry and Ron on either side of her. Also at the table are Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Nia, Harry and Nia’s brother, Regulus, and their godfathers, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. They are the only ones still in the dining hall, but none of them is in any hurry to leave. Hermione is laughing at Harry and Ron, who are having an argument about whether McDonalds or Burger King is better. Ron and Regulus agree that McDonalds is far superior, with their special sauce, apple pies, and happy meals. Harry and Nia both think Burger King is the best because their burgers taste better. Ron splutters at this as though it’s a completely ridiculous comment and is shouting “I have three words for you! Egg! Mac! MUFFIN!” when a miniscule house elf dressed in a tiny green suit taps her politely on the shoulder.
“Miss Granger, miss. Professor Picquery is wanting to see miss in her office, miss.” His voice is as miniscule as he is, and it is difficult to hear over the raucous laughter surrounding them, but Hermione manages to get the gist. That’s odd, she thinks. She thanks the house elf before turning back to the table.
“I’m so sorry, everyone. But Professor Piquery has requested to see me, so I need to go.” Nia’s bottom lip juts out pitifully at this information, but Sirius interjects before she can say anything, standing to embrace her.
“That’s alright, Hermione, dear. It was so lovely to see you again. It’s been entirely too long. We’re here for two more weeks. Do you think you’ll be able to come down to the town for dinner before we leave?” Sirius and Remus may be Harry’s godfathers, but they were like uncles to Hermione, too. They had kept in touch with her parents ever since the day they had brought them to America, and spent almost as much time with the Grangers as they did with the Potters whenever they were able to visit.
“I think so. I’m usually able to come home on weekends, especially this early in the year when there’s not as much schoolwork to be done. I’ll send an owl if something comes up.” She kisses him on the cheek and bends to do the same to Remus. Then she walks the winding path of hallways to get to the headmistress’s office. She knocks and then waits until the door is answered by a large house elf in a fluffy pink bathrobe. She struggles to hold back a grin at this as she passes into the office. She has no idea why Professor Picquery wants to see her. She comes to a stop in front of the large wooden desk, and fidgets with her fingernails until the professor finally looks up from the parchment she is writing on and asks Hermione to sit.
“Miss Granger. It’s nice to see you again. I trust you had a good summer vacation?”
“Of course, Professor. And you?”
“It was quite nice, thank you for asking. I’m sure you’re curious why I’ve asked you here, so I’ll get right to the point. Last year when preparing for your OWLs, we discussed your future and what field of study you wanted to focus on. You told me that your top two choices were wand lore and wandless magic. Is this still the case?” Hermione eagerly affirms that it is. “Well, I’ve spoken with Professor Cheesahteaumuck, and he has spoken with his Tribal Elders. After much deliberation, they have decided to extend to you the opportunity to study in the tribal school for part of the year. If you choose to take this opportunity, you will spend the first week of every month with them, learning from their teachers. The rest of the month will be spent here working on your other courses as usual. I believe your full schedule has been left in your room. I don’t think I need to impress upon you the implications of this offer. The tribe has never let a non-native study at their school. In fact, you are the only outsider I’ve ever heard of who has even been allowed to visit their reservation. MACUSA has been trying to repair our relations with the Native Americans for centuries, and this is the first sign on their part that they may be warming to our overtures. We need you to make a good impression.”
“I am aware of the political situation, and I promise to be on my best behavior. I’ve read Magical American History many times, and I know that you spent many years in MACUSA advocating for Native wizards to have a more active role in our government and to be treated equally in wizarding communities. Professor Cheesahteamuck is aware of this as well, which is why he made the decision to be the first Native teacher at Ilvermorny and allow his daughter to attend here full time. He has great respect for you and the work you did on behalf of his people. And speaking as a Muggleborn, I am so grateful for the work you did in the 60s to advocate for muggleborn rights. The fact that my parents can live in a wizarding community and be fully accepted is because of you and the work that you did. I can’t promise you that the tribe will change their stance and open their doors to you, but I promise Professor C and I will represent you to the best of our ability.” Hermione answered. Professor Picquery was taken aback slightly, but recovered quickly.
“Thank you, Hermione. Your kind words mean a great deal. Now, I don’t want to keep you any longer. You have a full day tomorrow and should go and rest. And I’m sure you want to discuss this with Chepi before you go to bed. Oh, I forgot to mention, Chepi will be joining you at the reservation for advanced teaching in wandless magic. Goodnight, Miss Granger.”
“Good night, Professor.” As Hermione walks out of the office, her face splits into a huge grin and she takes off running down the hall. She comes to the back staircase and begins descending down, down, down the mountain.
The school had been built on the edge of a steep slope leading down the mountain. The part of the school that rested on the mountain top consisted of classrooms, teacher’s offices, the dining hall, the entrance hall, and the ballroom. The student dormitories descended the back side of the mountain, with Horned Serpent at the very bottom. Hermione has been in each of the dormitories many times, but she likes Horned Serpent’s the best. It feels very much like a snake’s den. The bedrooms had been carved into the side of the mountain with no windows in them. It had taken a bit for Hermione to get used to this, but now she loves it and has trouble sleeping when there is too much light. At the end of the hallway that slithers through the mountain is the common room, which peeks out of the trees like a snake peeking out of its hole.
Hermione bursts into her bedroom and all but tackles the girl she finds there. “Chepi! I’ve missed you! I can’t believe your dad talked the Elders into letting us study at the reservation and you didn’t TELL ME!!” As she says this last part, she pushes the girl away and swats her lightly on the arm in indignation. Chepi grabs her arm and pretends to be hurt.
“Geez, Hermione! What’d you do that for?” At Hermione’s glare, she relents. “Okay, fine. I didn’t tell you because we didn’t find out the Elders’ final decision until this morning and I didn’t want to get your hopes up. We’ve been talking about this for so long. I guess I just didn’t want to jinx it.”
“I get it. No prob, Bob. Wait! I just realized. Professor P said ‘the first week of every month.’ THIS is the first week of the month. Does that mean?” Chepi grins and nods in response.
“Yes, we leave tomorrow morning dark and early. They want us there for some sort of sunrise ceremony to welcome you to the Rez. It’s going to be so great to be able to spend more time there this year. And to be able to have you with me is just icing on the cake. But I have to warn you, my mom and the other Rez teachers are hardcore. The curriculum there is much more difficult than it is here. You might actually get challenged there once in a while.”
Hermione grins. “Finally. Bring it on.”