Chapter 6
Hermione reached over to turn her alarm clock off, then rolled onto her back and stretched. When she had willingly - gratefully - agreed to submit to his training schedule, she’d had no idea he would make her get up at five to go running.
She remembered almost nothing about the holidays, she’d been so constantly tired. Just as the holidays had ended she’d felt a bit better, and she had to admit ever since then she’d had so much more energy. It wasn’t even a struggle to lug her bag around when it was full of books anymore. Yes she was still not very strong, but she had tons more energy. As the end of May approached and everything melted, they'd taken to running in wellingtons.
Lately they’d been adding wind sprints and ‘bursting’ to the runs - leaping side to side and stop/starting before going back to running - Like with the rest of the training, it had made her hurt like the dickens for a week or so, then she adapted.
She flung the covers off herself and dressed in her running kit, then walked quickly toward the castle gates.
As usual, Harry was waiting for her in the Entrance Hall, looking like a statue - if any statue ever wore sweats and wellingtons. He had shown her how to reinforce and then comfort-charm her own wellingtons, and that had been another week of constant practice. In the end, when she felt she knew the spell well enough, he’d made her run in the boots after he’d made her use the comfort charm wandlessly. Luckily she’d managed it well enough to avoid any serious blisters, but she’d taken to practicing everything wandlessly in addition to schoolwork and Harry’s other training.
That had led to an embarrassing conversation with Professor McGonagall, with the older witch looking down her nose at her. Hermione had felt all the same old feelings well up, but had stopped herself from defending the drop in her ‘grades’. She’d had to remind herself over and over that they didn’t matter. That she was already far beyond what was taught to the others.
She did enough of the kindergarten work to satisfy the teachers that she was participating, but for the most part had come to accept that her grades didn’t matter. Not like they did in the world she came from. He was right, it was enough to be advanced, to know she was better than her peers. She didn’t need to show it. If her teachers thought her lazy or underachieving, what did that matter?
She fell into step beside Harry as they jogged toward the grounds. Their footprints from yesterday’s run were still muddy and had collected water overnight, so she tried to avoid them with sudden leaps sideways and forward. The goal, Harry said, was to keep her balance while changing direction suddenly.
“I’m only going to be here another month.” Harry told her.
She stopped, shocked by the news. That wasn’t supposed to happen! He was supposed to visit her over the summer and they would come back next year to train more!
Her body began running again and caught up to him, almost without her telling it to. “Why?” She asked him. She could hear her own disappointment in her voice, but she didn’t care. That was not fair!
“I’ll answer why later. I brought it up in order to offer you better schooling.”
“Better than Hogwarts?” She asked.
“You don’t need the school, you know that. All you need is access to their library to teach yourself. You know the method now.”
“True. What did you have in mind?” She knew he had a plan, he never did anything without one.
“I have copied all the books in the library, and collected others from outside the school. In June I’ll collect another extensive private library. We won’t have a shortage of magic to study, but in order to operate in the real world we need credentials. I just need to know whether you will come with me when I leave - though don’t decide yet, wait until after breakfast.”
He didn’t say anything else, just ran a little faster than normal through their usual course. She was breathing hard and sweaty by the end, but still felt good.
They went their separate ways to clean up, and met in the Great Hall for breakfast. They were seated at the table when breakfast started and the food appeared, and they ate in companionable silence.
“If you’re done, I have something you need to see.” He whispered to her.
She had planned to eat another clementine, but she could also easily go without. As an answer, she stood up. He stood up too, and she followed him to their usual abandoned classroom.
When they were secure inside, he pulled a dark grey briefcase from his pocket, and enlarged it - only it wasn’t a briefcase. He folded the front part of it up, and it held a screen! The part on the table had a keyboard!
“That’s a powerbook!” She said, amazed. They were so expensive!
He nodded back at her, and pulled up some files after it finished booting. Then he stood back to let her peruse them.
Each file started with a name. Gamp, Travers, Yaxley, Burke... Thanks to their mental exercises every day, her mind was never more sharp, and she recognized not only the names, but the order in which they appeared.
Under each name was a list of things: Defences, entry points, number of servants...
She reeled as her mind catalogued the facts, but what it all meant...
“It’s you?” She asked softly, nearing tears. The best friend she could have imagined, the boy she felt things for... Why!? Why did it all have to turn horrible?!
“Yes.” He said. “You needed to know before you decided to come with me.” He said.
Wait, he still wanted her to come? “Come where, Harry? Why?”
“I secured two places at Westminster School for next year. As for why... I like you. My magic likes you.”
She knew exactly what he meant. Sometimes when they were close she could almost feel her magic snuggling up to his. Like they were meant to be together.
“Why, Harry? Why are you killing people?” And why do you have to be so otherwise completely wonderful? She could feel part of herself inside ripping down the middle.
“From the time I was one year old I was trained to be an assassin by an assassin. When I was five I met an older version of me from a universe where I wasn’t rescued by the assassin. He taught me the nature of magic and trained me how to use it properly, like I’m training you.”
He pulled her to the sofa and sat her down.
“Before I was even born Trelawney spewed a prophecy to Dumbledore that said a child born at the end of the seventh month would have the power to kill Voldemort. The upshot is that Dumbledore arranged for Voldemort to kill my parents and me. Instead, I survived. Dumbledore himself dropped me on the doorstep of my mother’s sister like a milk delivery and then left. The assassin who killed my aunt’s family saved me from the hell that the older version of me went through, and gave me the skills and tools to survive and make my own way. Except for firearms and knife and hand to hand combat training, that’s what I’ve been teaching you.
“I have taken a contract to kill people. I have killed people. Every single one of those people is responsible for this country being in the shape that it is. Did you know that ninety-seven percent of all muggleborns raised in this country leave it? They are guaranteed the next best thing to slavery if they stay, and the people I’ve killed and have yet to kill are responsible for it. That’s why I was offered the contract, and why I took it.
“When I’m finished with this contract at the end of the school year, I will never need to work again. I hadn’t really thought about not working again because there are so many tyrants all over the world that need killing, but if you don’t want me to Hermione, I would never kill again. You are that important.”
She looked up into his eyes again, and saw how serious he was.
Killing was bad. Her parents’ attitude on the subject was very clear. Though... they absolutely hated oppression as well. Was it really wrong to kill someone who regularly tortured others? Shouldn’t someone like that be stopped permanently?
Voldemort... after reading about the things he and his followers had done, she was convinced he was another Hitler. Another Stalin. He had earned being killed, and everyone she knew in the castle, their families had celebrated when he’d been killed the first time.
No, Voldemort and his followers all deserved to be killed.
So why did she feel so upset and sad that someone was accomplishing it? Shouldn’t she be proud that her friend was taking responsibility and doing what no-one else would? Not even Dumbledore! No, he would rather endanger hundreds of children playing stupid games with the twisted maniac!
She needed to to think.
“I need to think about all this, Harry.” She said sadly. “I’m not sure what’s right and wrong anymore, I need to be alone for a while.”
“Good.” He said. He was smiling. Why was he smiling when she was so confused?
He closed the files and turned his laptop off, then shrunk it and put it in his pocket. “I’m glad you won’t decide anything without thinking it over.” He told her. “You should probably talk to your parents as well. Even if you decide you never want to see me again, thank you for being my friend. I never had a friend before you.”
With that, he turned and left the room.
She stared numbly at the closed door. She should be upset. She should be horrified that her only friend was a murderer. She should definitely not wonder what it was like or if she could do it.
He was right again, she needed her mum.