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Cursed by bccaw [Reviews - 3]

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Chapter 4: The Hero

Hermione did as she was told and relived every memory she had starting with the day before the battle, but she learned nothing new. Her memory was still fuzzy after the moment Harry was struck down. She could only recall scattered images after Harry fell: Death Eaters closing in, her wand flying out of her hand, and Snape’s face fading away.

Snape's face must have been the last thing she saw before she woke up in the infirmary. Surely Snape knew what she was missing and could enlighten her. He had not stayed long enough for her to ask, after being irritatingly vague on the matter. Hermione had a sinking feeling that despite her pleas he would continue to keep her in the dark, since he wanted her to find the memories on her own.

He probably enjoyed withholding the information. He might even see it as payback for her past as an admittedly obnoxious, “insufferable know-it-all” in his classes. Hermione had not forgotten his insults, though she had pretended to with Harry and Ron in an effort to get them to keep their mouths shut. They had not needed more excuses to whinge about Snape and frankly she had preferred not talk about him at all. Up until they had discovered his role as a spy, Hermione had found it supremely disappointing to be ignored by a teacher and had taken great pleasure in pestering him with her knowledge out of spite. When his indifference had occasionally turned to vitriol, she had felt the sting of his words with fresh shock every time. Hermione was unused to criticism from adults, especially when it was doled out in a sarcastic, belittling manner.

She had convinced herself that much of his over-the-top cruelty and favoritism had been a ruse, but even so, she had not been able to completely forgive him for all of his spiteful, nasty remarks over the years. Harry and Ron had only seen Snape's comments as a challenge, but poor Neville had been terrified of his Potions professor for years.

Hermione had been able to bounce back quickly from the insults by reasoning away the pain; there had often been a valuable lesson in his words to her, even if it was delivered in the manner of a verbal slap to the face and accompanied by a sneer. He had been right about her obsession with memorizing textbooks, after all... if she only ever done things by the book, she might not be alive and Harry might not have defeated Voldemort.

Reflecting on her younger self, Hermione freely admitted that she had been a shameless show-off at times, so impatient and confident in her knowledge that she did not give others a chance to work things out for themselves. Over the years, she had learned to accept that Snape was not impressed by her. He was perhaps the only teacher she had ever known who found her efforts lacking, which was not surprising anymore now that she knew how brilliant he had been as a student. His classes had been the most challenging, and consequently the most rewarding.

Still, he was a bitter man and she did not expect sympathy from him. She was, however, determined to get some answers.

Frustrated with Snape in addition to being overwhelmed by the pent up emotions that came with her memories, Hermione was in a terrible mood when Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville came to visit. She could see their familiar blurry forms approach slowly before they all greeted her again as they gathered around her bed.

Ginny was the most talkative, updating Hermione on how everyone was doing, saying that nobody wanted to leave Hogwarts and face the world yet. McGonagall had assured them that Hogwarts would be a refuge as long as they needed it. Hermione was thankful that her friends would remain in the castle a while longer.

The boys chimed in occasionally with half-hearted jokes whenever Ginny came particularly close to mentioning Fred and the others who had died. Hermione could tell that they were trying to be cheerful for her, but it was not working. Neville recounted the experience with Nagini, saying that he was not sure that he would have succeeded anyway if Snape had not taken the sword right out of his hand. Harry and Ron disagreed, of course, saying that Snape should have at least let him try. Hermione loved them for being loyal friends, but she had doubts about Neville wielding a sword. She knew how important it was that the snake was killed at the right time, and she would never have purposefully left the task to Neville, as much as she liked him.

“Come on, Neville, you know you would have been a hero – I mean, in the Prophet and everything – if he had let you finish off the snake! And you’re not even a little mad?”

Ron was incredulous.

“No,” said Neville, “why would I care if I’m in the Prophet anyway? They were awful to Harry for years! Harry’s the real hero, and they didn’t even say they were sorry for printing lies about him before they sent a reporter around here for an interview!”

“I think you did the right thing, Harry,” said Ginny. “They don’t deserve an interview with you.”

“They don’t deserve an interview with any of us,” replied Harry. “You’re all heroes, you all fought in that battle! Especially you, Hermione.”

He paused and said affectionately, “You’re also completely crazy, you know – why did you do it?”

Nobody had an answer, and even if Hermione had the ability to talk she would have been speechless. She did not know what she had done and she did not know why she had done it.

She would not get any more hints from their conversation, because they soon left to go to lunch. Hermione suddenly realized that she had not eaten anything since first waking up and miraculously was not even hungry. In that case, the curse must be something like being petrified. She could not remember anything at all from the last time she was petrified. It had been like going to sleep for a very long time, not at all like this. It was like being in an extremely strong, all-encompassing full-body bind. Did such a curse exist? Hermione had so many questions and no way of getting answers if Snape was not forthcoming with information.

Hermione spent another long, unsuccessful period of time with her fuzzy memories of the battle. She let her thoughts wander to her parents for the first time in weeks. Their only child was probably on her deathbed and they would not remember her when she was gone. She had not been homesick since third year, but now she felt the ache rise up again for a home that was gone forever. Though she had not been close to her parents since she entered the magical world, she loved them, and before she had erased their memories they had loved her.

After a while, Hermione realized that she was not as upset about her parents as she thought she should be, because she did not really believe that she was going to die. It was hard to believe she could be dying when she felt perfectly fine. Despite her mind's warnings, her optimistic heart insisted that she would be able to find her parents when she got better. There was still hope for her, and if anyone could save her from her petrified fate it was Professor Snape. He might be a sarcastic, vindictive man, but aside from Dumbledore he was probably the most intelligent and skilled wizard she had ever met.

Hermione was attended yet again by Madam Pomfrey, who came in to fuss with the sheets and check Hermione for any change. She frequently remarked how well Hermione looked, and Hermione began to wish someone would hold a mirror up, since she had apparently never looked better. The last time she had seen her face it had been gaunt, bruised, and dirty, and her hair had been appallingly frazzled and partially matted into a thick braid. They would have cleaned her up after the battle, she supposed, but seeing as how she had not eaten a thing since she arrived, she could not imagine that she looked well at all.

Madam Pomfrey puttered about, chatting with Dumbledore’s portrait and smoothing Hermione’s sheets mindlessly. Hermione was beginning to dislike having Dumbledore hanging over her head. It made her sad to hear his familiar voice coming from above whenever someone came into the room. She knew people took comfort in speaking with the former headmaster again, but for Hermione it seemed a hollow solace. The power and insight of the real Albus Dumbledore were not present in the portrait.

“A word with you, Madam.”

A dark shape had appeared in the doorway. It was a true doorway now, Hermione realized. Before, there had been only an opening in the hanging sheets. She tried to concentrate on the blurry white shapes around her, but she could not discern whether they were sheets or walls. Snape disappeared from the doorway and Madam Pomfrey followed him from the room, making Hermione nervous. More secrets most likely meant bad news.

After a few minutes, Snape appeared again and strode over to the bed.

“I sense you are finally beginning to understand the seriousness of your situation, Granger,” he said without preamble.

Hermione did not like that he could read her emotions, but she supposed she should be grateful that she was able to communicate with anyone at all. She could not understand his tone. He had omitted the usual “miss” from her name, which he had rarely did, even when censuring her in class. At the moment she could only remember one occasion when he had, on the night they had helped Sirius escape Hogwarts.

She decided he sounded carefully neutral. Suddenly, his face was in front of her again and she was forced to stare into his cold black eyes.

I would understand it much better if anyone would tell me what’s going on! Hermione thought defiantly, just before he made the connection with her mind.

“What was that?” he asked sharply.

I want – to know what happened, Hermione thought.

It was getting much easier to know which words to emphasize.

“All in good time,” he said. “First, tell me what you remember.”

Hermione would have sighed.

Nothing, she thought. I remember nothing.

“What exactly does ‘nothing’ mean, Miss Granger? You’ve made no progress? What is the last thing you can remember? You realize I am not reading your mind.”

Hermione felt an imaginary sigh again and tried to ignore the buzzing in her head. She searched for the memories that she had reviewed a hundred times already and pushed them toward him: Snape killing Nagini and running past her, Harry falling from Voldemort’s curse, then the hazy images of the three Death Eaters, her wand flying away, and Snape’s face.

The memories slipped back into her mind and the space at the front of her head was empty again.

“Did you do as I said and review the entire day?”

Of course!

Did he really think she would not? Six years of classes should have taught him that she always followed directions precisely.

I am serious, she thought, I know this is serious. I can’t remember - after Harry.

Hermione felt like she was speaking in a foreign language with her halting phrases. At least it gave her an excuse not to address him formally every time she spoke, a small rebellion that felt deserved in light of her frustration with him.

“Are there any gaps in your memories prior to these?”

No, definitely not, Hermione thought. I remember - every moment.

Snape was silent and left her to her own thoughts.

“There are a few possible explanations that come to mind, Miss Granger, and I would like you to tell me which you think is more likely. The first is that you were so distraught by Potter’s apparent death that you did not actually see what was happening around you. The second is that the curse affected your mind in some way and damaged the most recent memories you had when it hit you. The third is a combination of the two. So,” he paused, “I am asking your opinion – do you think that your emotional state would have rendered you effectively blind for a few moments?”

I – don’t know, thought Hermione. I think - not.

“Do you imagine that you possess more strength of mind than most people, Miss Granger?”

No, she thought, but – memories are not – only what you remember.

“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.

She wished he would be more patient, as it was hard to explain adequately with thoughts alone.

Harry told me, she began, a Pensieve – shows more.

Hermione struggled to make him understand what she meant.

Shows things – you didn’t see.

“I am aware of the purpose of a Pensieve, Miss Granger,” Snape interrupted. “You do not understand me. Quite often, when a person is in extreme pain, be it physical or mental, their mind closes down in defense. They are not able to take in new information, and can become temporarily blind or deaf. In such cases there is literally no memory of sight or sound formed, no matter if the person’s eyes are open, as yours were when you were found. I suspect that you do not remember the moments before you were hit for this reason, and it is likely that you do not remember what happened after you were hit because the curse itself closed down your mind.”

Like – being petrified?

“In simple terms, yes,” he said lazily.

Well, if I could communicate in complicated terms I would! Hermione thought to herself hotly. She was annoyed that he was treating this like a lesson.

“Don’t be impertinent!” he snapped again. “I caught the tone of that little tirade if not the words.”

What if I was - just knocked out?

“You were not.”

How do you know?

“Because I was there,” he said slowly, “and it was obvious that you were conscious moments after being hit. If you had been knocked out it would have been instantaneous.”

Can you show me?

“Not yet,” he said, “it is not necessary –“

PLEASE! she thought desperately. If I won’t – ever remember - why not now?

She felt the buzzing stop and he studied her coldly.

Suddenly, her mind was flooded with images. She saw herself dodging curses and dueling alongside her friends, and she saw Harry fall again. A Death Eater appeared in front of her and sent curses toward her. He fell moments later and she caught a glimpse of Voldemort at a distance behind him. His wand was raised, his face was full of hatred... and then her vision was blocked by her own face gasping as she was hit by the curse. They both fell to the ground, face to face, she and Snape, of course, because this was his memory. Then it faded to black, just as her own memory had.

Snape stood up abruptly, giving her no chance to respond, and left without a word. As he left, another figure flew into the room.

“Hermione! They’ve finally let me come visit you!”

It was Luna. She leaned in very close to Hermione’s face and whispered.

“I saw Professor Snape leaving. Did he come to thank you for saving his life? Everyone says he’s been acting so strangely lately and Ron says you must be crazier than a flying nargle for jumping right in front of him like that!”

Why couldn’t you have told me so an hour ago? Hermione wondered weakly.

She did not hear another word that Luna said that day.


Cursed by bccaw [Reviews - 3]

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