Chapter 4
The morning passed in relative mundanity. It was a bit disorientating to wake up surrounded by blue instead of the usual red – with far too much sun coming through the massive windows as well – and to walk over that odd starry carpet instead of familiar plush rugs. But if Hermione ignored all that, it felt almost normal. She did remember to triple check she had all the books she’d need for today before exiting the common room though.
Almost all twenty or so eighth years that had returned were in both Transfiguration and Charms. Hermione, arriving early, felt quite lost without Harry or Ron to sit next to before Padma put her books quietly down next to her.
“Sue’s assigned you to me. She’s taking Daphne. She wants us all to bond.” Padma said with a smile. “Not that I don’t want to sit with you-” she added quickly, eyes widening.
“It’s ok, I’m not offended. She’s very… friendly.”
“Yeah, chronic extravert,” Padma grinned fondly. “She was the glue that held the Ravenclaw girls together. And the Ravenclaw quidditch team. And the gobstones club.”
After Transfiguration Hermione walked with Padma, Daphne and Sue – who kept up a constant and mostly one-sided stream of conversation with Daphne – to Charms. Ahead of her she couldn’t help but notice a gleaming blond head of hair. Malfoy was walking with Theo Nott, newly appointed Gryffindor. Although she may have imagined it, Daphne seemed to look longingly towards them.
Both Charms and lunch passed uneventfully and then it was time for Defence Against the Darks Arts. Hermione had been wondering through half of her lunch break what this new Professor Nettle would be like.
It turned out they were rather intimidating. Their posture – impeccably straight with their hands behind their back and feet shoulder-width apart – gave of the impression of a soldier. They had short clipped black hair, eyes like a Hawk and wore tight green-grey trousers instead of the traditional long robes.
Like Transfiguration and Charms, almost every eighth year at Hogwarts was attending this class. Sue, who she’d noticed making what looked like tactical hand signals at Padma during lunch, sat beside her while Padma took the seat beside Daphne.
Professor Nettle started without pretence.
“I am very aware that, due to the time period we find ourselves living in, many of you will already be accomplished in this field beyond what I would be able to teach you in a classroom. Some of you will indeed be very experienced with things that are illegal to teach in a classroom.” Her eyes flickered to Malfoy, sitting near the back with Nott. “What I want to do this lesson is sort out all of your skill levels so I can adjust the curriculum accordingly. Out of your seats.”
The eighth years scrambled to pack away the books and quills they’d brought out and when everyone was standing Professor Nettle waved the tables to the sides of her room with a sweep of their wand.
“Right. I want you to line up on either side of the room. Leave the middle clear. You will all be attempting to avoid the hexes I am going to cast on you and to disarm, stun, or incapacitate me in any way you see fit. I want to see you defend yourselves. I will hold back slightly. You should not.”
Hermione felt her anxiety spike. So they would be duelling? Their own teacher would be hexing them? She’d been expecting an outline of the curriculum and a small speech on how important N.E.W.T’s were for their future like in the other classes.
“You!” She gestured at a scarred looking Hannah Abbott. “You first.” Professor Nettle then held out her wand in a not-quite duelling stance.
“You will have been taught that when duelling it is customary to hold your free hand behind your back. Don’t bother. It’s traditional nonsense that will throw your balance off.”
The whispers that were permeating the classroom were silenced as Hannah took her place. She held out her wand, unsure.
A flick of Nettle’s wand sent Hannah’s flying. Nettle caught it neatly and said, “Too slow. An attacker wouldn’t give you the chance to make the first move. Next!”
Padma managed to cast a non-verbal blindness spell on Nettle before disarming them neatly. Sue, however, somehow managed to send an unknown hex into a desk, exploding it and apologising profusely after being revived from the stupefy Nettle had sent her way. Neville was fierce in his attack, with a volley of spells shooting either way before he managed to petrify the professor.
By the time it was Hermione’s turn, she thought she was well prepared. She fired a quick non-verbal expelliarmus that shot Nettle’s wand out of their hand. Victorious, Hermione relaxed. Then a sudden red light hit her and she was falling backwards.
When she came to, Nettle helped her up.
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to use this,” they said. “I always carry a spare wand. Not the most practical but it’s gotten me out of some very sticky situations. No one expects it.”
Malfoy, looking like he was trying very hard to fade into the background, was the last to face off with Nettle.
“Right! You next.”
The class was silent as Malfoy walked slowly into the centre of the room. Hermione couldn’t help but notice – again – the uncharacteristic slouch.
“Let’s see what Voldemort taught you. Or was it your father?”
Malfoy’s face clenched in anger as something that looked like lightning shot out of his wand. Nettle blocked at the last second and the curse ricocheted, the table it hit bursting into flames. Nettle fired off a stupefy but Malfoy dodged and sent a sweeping hex towards Nettle, tripping them. Malfoy cast a stunning spell but Nettle rolled out of the way and sent a petrificus totalus towards him. Again, he dodged.
“Levicorpus!”
And then, even dangling by their ankle in the air, Nettle finally managed to hit Malfoy with an expelliarmus. They fell to the floor in a heap as Malfoy automatically ran to retrieve his wand from where it had fallen.
“Good!” Nettle shouted, pulling themself up. “You shouldn’t give up that easily. If you’re disarmed and there’s a wand within reach, get it. Especially if your opponent’s distracted, as I was.”
The bell began to chime as Nettle finished speaking and the students retrieved their belongings.
If Hermione was being honest, the lesson had made her a bit anxious. The war was over, but it looked like they were going to be trained as if it was still looming.
On top of this, Nettle seemed to have no qualms when it came to referencing said war. Hermione couldn’t say she’d felt bad for Malfoy per se, but she’d been a bit shocked Nettle had so readily brought up his past.
Her thoughts on that would have to wait, though. Next period was Muggle Studies. She remembered where the classroom was and walked there alone as Padma and Sue headed off to Divination.
The Muggle Studies classroom was only a floor below and Hermione got there before anyone else. Not much had changed since third year. The classroom was still cluttered with an assortment of muggle contraptions that looked odd even to Hermione, arranged as they were. In one corner there was a telephone box. In another, a gramophone perched precariously on a stack of magazines and CDs. A blender sat on the teacher’s desk. Hermione found a spot somewhere near the front and settled in, getting out her things.
She had of course already read the textbook. There had been a few chapters on muggle history, several on technology and a few at the end on ‘muggle culture’. It had been strange to read. The tone of the book had managed to be almost patronising in its fascination. She hadn’t been offended, especially given how intimately acquainted she was with anti-muggle sentiment, but she had been a bit taken aback.
The click of shoes from the front of the room suddenly got her attention. Professor Miller was leaning casually on his desk, in a similar looking three-piece suit to the one he’d been wearing at the feast. His black academic gown gave the illusion of robes. He smiled at her.
“You must be Miss Granger. I’m Professor Miller. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
She smiled back.
“If you’ll forgive me for asking… because of course I know who you are and what your heritage is – and looking through my predecessor’s records you don’t seem to have taken this class since third year – why are you here? Not that I’m not pleased to have you, I’m just curious.”
Hermione had not expected to be asked this so directly. “I… I suppose I’m just interested in how it’s all seen… well… from the other side… I guess? I know I won’t be able to take a N.E.W.T exam without an O.W.L level but I don’t think the content will be too tricky and I just… wanted to at least sit in.”
“Oh don’t worry, I’ve been thinking and if you’re willing to put it the work we could arrange for you to complete your O.W.L level sometime before your N.E.W.T. There’s no pressure if you do just want to sit in of course. Being a muggleborn, you won’t need the qualification for any careers I can think of.”
“Oh… erm… Thank you. I’ll think about it,” she stammered.
She didn’t have to think too much just yet, though, because the next few seconds were going to give her much, much more to think about.
“Hello, Mr Malfoy.”
What?
Hermione involuntary turned her head towards the door. No, she wasn’t hearing things. There he was, standing hesitantly in the doorway. She half expected him to excuse himself for walking into the wrong classroom.
“Up the front, please. I know we’ve got plenty of desks but there’s only five people in this class.”
Apparently not.
Malfoy didn’t make eye contact as he walked sullenly to the front of the room, placing his books as far away from Hermione’s as he could.
“It’s good to have you here early, Mr Malfoy. You’re in a similar situation to Miss Granger here.”
Similar? How was there anything similar about their situations? She was a muggleborn, he was a blood purist. As ‘young and impressionable’ as Harry had argued he was at the trial, he’d still bullied her relentlessly. She’d been tortured in his house. Her scar itched at the thought of it and a shiver ran down her spine.
“Neither of you have an O.W.L in this subject-”
Oh. That.
“-and I was just telling Miss Granger that arrangements could be made such that you could take an O.W.L exam earlier in the year and a N.E.W.T later on, if you so choose.”
“Thank you, Professor. I’ll do that,” said Malfoy quietly, but clearly.
Her head – which had been deliberately facing the front – whipped back to Malfoy. Was he crazy? Or was this just his trademark arrogance? Surely O.W.L level students would at least be able to identify the blender on the desk. She very much doubted Malfoy could.
Her mind remained a bubbling mess of confusion and indignance as the other students made their way in. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones sat together. Ernie MacMillan took a seat next to them, behind Malfoy. The classroom was too empty to risk covert whispers, but everyone except Hermione – staring intently at the blender – was looking at Malfoy as if he’d grown an extra head. In fact, given this was a magic school, that might have made more sense.
“Right!” Miller said, clapping his hands together. “Welcome to N.E.W.T level Muggle Studies. This year we’ll be following along with Advanced Muggle Studies by Gillius Gladwick for curriculum’s sake, but I don’t want that book to be the limit of what you learn in this class. Especially in the wake of the war-” The other students glanced unabashedly at both Malfoy and Hermione. “-there is a lot of discussion to be had around the past, present and future of wizard-muggle relations.
“But first, a bit of background. My name is Mathias Miller. I was born in London. My mother is a muggle, my father is a wizard. I graduated from this school in 1982 and for a time worked with the Ministry on various projects regarding wizard-muggle relations. I left my post when… things started getting a bit dangerous for people like me in the Ministry, and have been working on a book on my area of interest since…”
Miller went on to outline the curriculum. They would start with a brief refresher on World War I before moving onto World War II. Hermione thought for a minute that it was a bit odd that N.E.W.T level students wouldn’t know who Hitler was, but then remembered that an entire lesson in third year had been dedicated to the history and cultural significance of kinder surprises.
The lesson was more painful than she had expected. She had been stupid, really. Had she expected to answer questions about the first World War without remembering the history documentaries her dad loved to watch? Had she expected to see a poster for swan lake on the far wall and not remember her mother’s fondness for classical music? The longer the lesson went on the harder it was to control her urge to cry.
“Mr Malfoy, you haven’t answered anything yet,” Miller said good-naturedly. “We’ve named all the Allies so far. Who were the Central Powers?”
There was a pregnant pause before he answered. “I don’t know, Professor.”
Miller quickly moved on to Ernie, whose hand had shot up as soon as Malfoy had started talking.
As the bell rang, Hermione quickly packed up her things. She was grateful that this was the last class of the day what with the state she was in. She rushed out before she had a chance to decide where to go, and her feet eventually found the familiar route to the library.
Walking into the room almost instantly calmed her. Hermione had missed this. It was empty except for a few fifth years who were too busy complaining about McGonagall’s excessive reading assignments to notice her, so Hermione made her way over to her favourite desk. It was squeezed between a shelf full of ancient rune translations and a lake-facing window. It thankfully went relatively unused as there wasn’t enough room around it for a proper study group.
Hermione sat for a while, looking out over the lake and basking in the familiar smell of books. In that moment, the absence of Harry and Ron really hit her. That reminded her that she hadn’t written yet. Feeling a little guilty, she pulled out her parchment and ink, addressing the letter to Ron.
But when she went to write, she found she didn’t quite know what to say.
I miss you.
Your sister’s in Slytherin now.
Malfoy’s taking Muggle Studies.
I’m still upset about my parents.
It was somehow all too overwhelming to put into words. And Ron wasn’t here. It would be different for him. The whole school was still recovering from the disorientation of the resorting. So many people were re-evaluating themselves, Hermione included. It would be a distant piece of gossip – or even maybe shame, although Hermione hoped not – in Ron’s case.
Ron would be Ron and tell her not to worry about it. Which wasn’t what she was doing anyway. She still didn’t know how she felt about the whole thing, she thought as she looked down at her new blue and bronze tie. Her parents, too, he would tell her not to worry about. We’re your family, now, ‘Mione.
But she wrote about them anyway. Mainly because it really wasn’t her place to tell him about Ginny’s resorting, and she didn’t have the mental energy to delve into Malfoy’s unexpected appearance in Muggle Studies.
But the irritating wizard apparently wasn’t going to let her forget about him today.
“Hello?” came a familiar voice from the direction of Madam Pince’s desk.
At Pince’s snappish enquiry Malfoy decided to take another brick out of the crumbling wall that was Hermione’s sanity.
“Where do I find the books on World War I?”
Huh?
“You mean the first wizarding war, Mr Malfoy?” said Pince.
“No, the muggle one. World War I. From 1914 to 1918.”
There was a pause, and then “Wait here.”
Hermione stared at her letter in astonishment as she listened to Malfoy check out the book. Her mouth dropped open as she heard the quiet, unassuming, “Thank you.”
…
Who was this wizard and what had he done with Malfoy?