The Phoenix, Part Two

Hermione was eating lunch with Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid when they were interrupted by the Apparition of a house-elf, followed by a tiny squeak as it bobbed over to McGonagall's side.

“Headmistress, there be another red freckled Weasel-bee wanting to be let in at the gate. He say his name is 'Bill' and he be here to help Professor Snape!”

Hermione's eyes widened. She had just warned her friends not to tell anyone, even the rest of the family!

“Indeed?” asked McGonagall in surprise, turning to Hermione.

“I have no idea how he found out!” Hermione exclaimed, then reflected, “Well, I suppose I have an idea, but I didn't ask him to come here! He's supposed to be on a job in a remote desert site until next week, anyway.”

“Well, let's go down and see what he wants, if indeed it is Bill Weasley. Follow me, Miss Granger, and do stay behind me.”

They hurried out of the castle and down to the gate. As they approached, Hermione could see a wizard that looked like Bill Weasley waiting for them. McGonagall motioned for Hermione to stop and went over to question Bill herself. After a moment, she opened the gate and let him in, gesturing to where Hermione stood.

“Hermione? You're okay!”

Bill hugged her warmly.

“Yes,” Hermione acknowledged. “I've recovered... I assumed you knew.”

She peered at him in confusion.

“How did you find out about Professor Snape, if you didn't know about my recovery?”

Bill frowned.

“What about Professor Snape, Hermione?”

She frowned back.

“He's... we've switched places, it seems. He's lying in the infirmary right now, looking just like I did before. You didn't know?”

“No,” said Bill. “I came here as soon as I got Professor Snape's owl. He said that he knew it was a long-shot, but hoped that my Curse-Breaking knowledge might be of use in figuring out how to help you and asked that I come to Hogwarts as soon as I was able. The owl must have gotten caught in a sandstorm, poor thing, because I only got the message yesterday but it was dated over a week ago.”

Hermione was stunned into silence for a moment.

“He must have figured something out on his own,” she said. “Whatever it was, he must have done it just after he sent you the message, because we've been switched for a few days now. I had no idea he had asked you to come.”

Bill wrapped an arm around her in a comforting, brotherly manner.

“I don't know what Professor Snape thought I would be able to find, but if you take me to him I will do my best to figure it out.”

They arrived in the infirmary warm from the exertion of walking the grounds in the summer weather. Hermione collapsed into the chair by the bed as Bill stared at Professor Snape.

“Tell me everything you know, Hermione,” he said softly.

She gave him a detailed account of everything that she remembered since waking up after the battle. Then she took out Severus' journal and fixed Bill with sharp look.

“What has your family has told you about how Professor Snape communicated with me?”

“Just that he was able to use Legilimency on you to know that you were conscious. Turns out we were right about him as students, then. I suppose he was able to know how you were feeling and perhaps used some of your memories to study the curse?”

Hermione nodded.

“Yes, he did that... and so much more. Nobody but Professor McGonagall knows the extent of our communication. It was very clear, like having real conversations. Here!”

She held the journal out to him.

“Read this and you'll understand. Just promise me...” she said, pulling it back slightly as he reached out to take it, “that you will never tell a soul about it. Not even Fleur. McGonagall has warned me that if the Ministry finds out about it there will be... unpleasant repercussions.”

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

“Do you want me to take an oath of secrecy before I read it?”

Hermione shook her head and smiled faintly.

“No. I trust your word.”

She sat quietly as Bill skimmed the entries in the journal, eyebrows occasionally knitting together as he deciphered the small, cramped script. Presently, Dumbledore's portrait made an appearance.

“Ah! Bill Weasley has come to visit!”

Hermione glared at him, his jovial words startling Bill from his task.

“Uh, hello... Professor Dumbledore,” he remarked, quickly returning to the journal, engrossed in one of the last entries.

“Miss Granger, am I right in assuming that you hope Mr. Weasley will be able assist you in breaking the curse?”

Hermione did not answer the portrait.

“For if that is why you've brought him here, I'm afraid you will be disappointed. Curses on places and objects are quite different from curses on mythical beasts, non-magical beings, and magical folk. Designing curses to be used on witches and wizards is its own, completely separate branch of magic with its own laws and theories – all of which are vastly more complicated than any other type of curse.”

Hermione smiled slightly at the portrait.

“Yes, I know. I have not asked Bill to come. It was Professor Snape who sent for him before he was... incapacitated. He must have thought it worthwhile.”

Bill finished the entry he had been reading and looked at Hermione.

“The portrait is right, Hermione. I don't know if I will be any help at all. There are not really any curse breakers left who specialize in curses on magical folk – at least nobody who could tackle something this dark. The Ministry has been discouraging study in that field since the first war, since most of those interested in the subject were actually more interested in being able to legally experiment on people with Dark Magic and get paid for it to boot. Not to mention, most of those qualified were convicted or suspected Death Eaters and could not be trusted in a Ministry position – if they weren't already in Azkaban.”

Hermione sighed.

“And as we found out with Fudge and Umbridge, the Ministry's answer to fighting the Dark Arts is not to understand and defeat them, but to declare them illegal and simply hope they will go away.”

Bill nodded.

“True. But honestly... it is incredibly risky for someone to study such dark curses. Even the most ethical, conscientious wizard could be seduced by the Dark Magic if they aren't strong enough to resist its power. The nature of studying and experimenting with curses that affect magical folk means that the person doing the research is always a potential vessel for Dark Magic. Even taking every precautions to avoid the effects of the residual Dark Magic involved in breaking down a curse to find a cure, the magic is by nature strongly drawn to the witch or wizard studying it.”

Hermione nodded, frowning as she took in the information.

“So... when you're out on a job breaking curses on buildings or objects... how do you avoid being cursed before you analyze and remove the spells?”

“The curses might be designed to attack or affect a wizard, or anything else that gets too close, but we have ways of convincing the Dark Magic that we are not a target. We use a modified Shield Charm that actually attracts the curse's magic continuously while we analyze the nature of the spell. When we're done, the charm splits the shield and wraps the Dark Magic from the curse in a protective bubble, leaving a shield around the Curse-Breakers as well. It takes at least two people, sometimes three, to pull off.”

“But that wouldn't work for a cursed wizard,” Hermione stated, knowing the answer.

“No, it wouldn't,” said Bill, shaking his head. “It is nearly impossible to convince Dark Magic designed to seek out magical folk specifically, that a charm is a person. So, you often need a live decoy who is capable of holding the magic at bay until their partner can analyze the spell... and who in their right mind would volunteer for that job?”

Hermione was quiet for a minute.

“So, in our situation... where the curse is already activated in myself and Professor Snape... would a Curse-Breaker be in danger of becoming a target as well?”

Bill shrugged.

“That's the thing, Hermione. I don't know. It's definitely possible. The real problem is that I don't know the first thing about analyzing this kind of curse, and I don't know anyone who does. As the portrait said, it's completely different than the sort of curses I work with. All I can do is try a few non-invasive spells to see if they might reveal how the magic is tied to you and Professor Snape. I won't be able to do much with the spell itself.”

Hermione shook her head.

“And I wouldn't ask you to! Not after you've just told me how dangerous it might be for you.”

Bill was determined to do what he could, and he immediately went to find Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey to assist him.

With Madam Pomfrey shielding Bill, and McGonagall shielding herself and Pomfrey separately in a brightly lit, bluish-white cage, Bill sent some diagnostic spells toward Snape. Hermione sat in the chair beside the bed, nervously awaiting her turn under Bill's gracefully sweeping, yet carefully controlled wand movements.

When Bill finally turned to Hermione, she closed her eyes. A feeling of static electricity washed over her, and it seemed that every hair on her body stood on end. She could feel her mass of curls strain against the confines of the braid she had tied earlier. Bill used a second spell and Hermione shivered as the feeling a thousand grains of sand brushing over her skin on a strong wind piqued and faded. A third spell prompted her to open her eyes, as her body warmed. She glanced down at her arms and thought that they might have been glowing a sickly yellowish-green for a brief moment.

“Okay, Hermione, sit tight,” said Bill, his voice muffled by the shield. “I'm going to try something else.”

Moments passed during which Bill tried a few spells to no effect. Looking determined he took a breath, closed his eyes in concentration, and then opened them slowly. He pointed his wand at Snape, circled the tip twice while murmuring the spell, then slowly drew his aim across the small space between the bed and Hermione's chair. When his wand was pointed at Hermione, he made another small circle, murmuring again. Slowly dropping his wand, he took a breath. Then, with a sudden swift upward stroke, he loudly said another spell, a fierce look on his face. Sweat had matted a few strands of hair to his cheek. He held his wand steady, struggling as if with a great weight, and with one more string of muffled syllables, jabbed his wand toward the air above Hermione's head.

Bill looked triumphant, causing Hermione to tilt her head back and gasp. There was a faintly glowing web of magic above her, attached to her head and torso it would seem. She looked over at Snape, and sure enough it touched him as well. Some of the pathways were thicker than others, and the one in the middle of the mess – the largest – was pulsing slightly.

Without a thought, Hermione reached over and put a hand on Snape's chest, to the immediate protests of Pomfrey and McGonagall. The pulse of Snape's heartbeat matched the pulse of the magical web, which was still visible but fading slowly.

Hermione stared at it, willing her mind to remember every detail. The web was multi-colored. Much of it was a soft purplish-pink, but interwoven were quite a few strands that were the same sickly green she had glowed earlier, strands of deep violet, and what seemed like hundreds of tiny, shocking yellow ones. There was a large patch near the middle that was a dull myriad of grays, blues, and greens.

The image faded away with all occupants of the room still gazing silently at the apparition. Hermione finally looked over at Bill, now unshielded. He wore a contemplative expression as he stared at Snape. Pomfrey and McGonagall wore matching expressions of shock and awe.

“Most intriguing!” exclaimed the portrait.

“What did that mean?” asked Hermione.

“Well...” said Bill. “I'm not entirely sure, but it seems that your hypothesis was correct. You are connected by the curse and are currently sustaining one another with your combined strength. The curse is incredibly strong... the pattern suggested that the main pathway connecting you was originally cursed, but as you saw it is now the very thing keeping you... well, I suppose Professor Snape at the moment... from succumbing completely.”

“How do you know all that?” asked Hermione curiously.

“Oh, I suppose I should have explained it better,” said Bill. “Okay, so the parts of that web that were pinkish colored... those were the 'good' connections between you two. Pink stands are either Healing Magic or benign magic of some other variety. You seem to have both Healing Magic and Dark Magic running in the pathways we saw. The large one was colored as 'good magic', but... it was sort of, uh, bumpy and twisted, almost knotted in places, right?”

Hermione nodded.

“Well, that's how Dark Magic normally manifests... only if it was truly Dark it would have glowed green, blue, or dark violet. Did you see how it had faint violet edges?”

Hermione nodded again.

“That makes me think it was violet originally, but was healed... probably the first thing to be healed. Every other healing strand originated from that line, as well as every other dark strand.”

“What about the red and yellow ones?”

“The red shows a strong magical bond between two objects, or in this case, two people. The yellow is sort of like scaffolding – it just shows the structure of the spell. Your was the most intricate I've ever seen.”

“What about that dull spot that was near the middle?”

Bill nodded.

“I noticed that too,” he paused. “I don't think it's a good thing, though I haven't seen it before. If I had to make a guess, I'd say that it might represent some damage to either the curse or the connection. It could mark a site of magical transition. That section could be healing, or – ”

“Succumbing to the curse,” Hermione finished for him when he paused again.

“So... so do you think we will eventually overcome the curse... on our own somehow?” Hermione's voice nearly refused to form the question, terrified of the answer.

Bill did not look optimistic.

“I couldn't say, Hermione. We can certainly keep performing the spell to check your progress. From what I can tell, we did not even need the shields today. Whatever this curse is, it seems to be contained between you by the Healing Magic. Normally, when we map a curse like that, you can see the strands shooting out like tendrils looking for something to grab onto. Sometimes they are quite active, depending on the type of curse. Do you know what counter-curses Professor Snape performed to contain it?”

A heavy silence followed, after which Hermione slowly shook her head.

“He didn't use any, as far as I know.”

The occupants of the room contemplated what they have just learned.

“You really must show me how to perform that spell, Mr. Weasley,” said Pomfrey. “I've never seen anything like it!”

Bill smiled.

“You wouldn't have, as it's just been developed – it's still being developed, actually, by a member of my team. It holds much promise for the future of Curse-Breaking.”

“To be sure,” said Pomfrey.

“Yes, you have been quite helpful,” said McGonagall. “Did Professor Snape know of your expertise with this new spell? Is that why he asked you to come?”

“No,” said Bill. “He couldn't have known about it, but it seemed like he was desperate to learn more about the curse. He must have been if he thought I could help him understand a curse such as this. If my first diagnostic spells had not come back negative for actively moving Dark Magic, I would not have dared try the spell map. It would have been far too risky to draw out such a strong curse in a room full of potential vessels – er, victims.”

“I see,” was all McGonagall said in reply.

“This is the strangest curse I've ever seen,” said Bill. “It looks like it's been somehow contained... and there seems to be active healing involved... but you say he hadn't yet tried any counter-curses. It would seem that the curse was not cast successfully – why or how I could not say – and as a result you two are not only connected but able to mitigate the effects by drawing on your joint magical strength.”

Hermione walked Bill back down to the castle gate. He had not even been home to see Fleur before coming to Hogwarts.

“Bill, do you think that if Professor Snape had been the one awake when you got here...”

“That he would have been able to make more of the spell map than I could?” asked Bill.

“Yes.”

Bill let out a speculative breath.

“Ah... possibly. He is well-versed in the Dark Arts and has first-hand knowledge of how Voldemort might have gone about creating his curses. He might have been able to get something more out of the map, given enough time to study it. That's the problem with the development of the spell at this point – it takes tremendous effort to work the spell in the first place, let alone to keep it visible long enough to analyze anything specific. Farnsworth is working on a second spell to capture an imprint of the map for later study, which will make the whole thing much safer in the field.”

Bill's eyes got a faraway look as he continued.

“It will be fascinating to see how your curse and connection changes, as I'm sure it will with the various magical forces caught up in the spell.”

He looked down at Hermione.

“I had never seen all of the colors present in one map before. Merlin, I had never seen the mark of Healing Magic outside of the testing phase. For obvious reasons, we don't encounter much benign or pure magic in our line of work, at least not when we have occasion to use the map.”

They finished their trek in silence. When they reached the gate, Bill hugged her goodbye.

“Hermione, it's my turn to ask you not to share what you've seen today with anyone else. The Spell Mapping Charm, if that is what it ends up being called, is not approved for use outside of my team. If anyone found out that I had used it on a person...”

“Oh!” exclaimed Hermione.

“It's perfectly safe,” Bill assured her. “Well, for you and Professor Snape, anyway.”

“Bill... you really shouldn't have taken the chance,” Hermione admonished. “If anything had happened to you – if the curse had somehow affected you, too – ”

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” he interrupted firmly. “But like I said before, I wouldn't have done it if the curse had not already been contained.”

He smiled at her then.

“Now, don't go telling my family about the spell, either. With all the friends we have in the Ministry... it's just better to keep it quiet. I could probably get away with a slap on the wrist from the Ministry, but Gringotts would have my head if they knew I've been experimenting with their newest spell without authorization.”

Hermione nodded.

“I won't tell a soul.”

“I'll be back next week to map the curse for you again. I've told McGonagall to owl me immediately if there are any new developments. Keep trying to reach him, and take care of yourself.”

They parted ways, and Hermione was sad to see him go. She had always liked Bill, being in awe of both his academic accomplishments and his choice of career. Curse-Breaking was not an easy field, though it was lucrative. Most magical folk who attempted the apprenticeship either quit or were rejected after a few months.

Dinner was quiet that evening. McGonagall was not there, and Hermione found her in the infirmary later.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this, Severus. You should be giving the speech tomorrow, not me.”

Hermione stepped inside the room.

“How is the Legilimency coming, Granger?”

Hermione sat down, heart pounding.

“I don’t know, Professor. I've succeeded with Harry, but with Professor Snape… nothing.”

“He must be very weak,” concluded McGonagall.

“Harry was already angry when I tried to get into his mind,” said Hermione. “Which makes it a lot easier.”

“Indeed.” A pause. “Who was Potter angry with? Not with you, I trust?”

“No,” said Hermione. “Er – Ginny. And Ron. They had a fight. I think they’ve worked it out though.”

McGonagall moved to leave.

“We leave Hogwarts at 9:30 tomorrow, Miss Granger. I do wish we had more time.”

Hermione stayed with Snape until her eyes grew heavy and she could not read her book anymore. She had been reading to him with her mind like he had done so many times for her. She hoped he could hear it, and that the sound of her thoughts would draw him out of the dark haze that filled his mind.

Despite everything, she slept soundly. The morning was clear and bright. Hermione would have preferred clouds and rain. She was not in the mood for good weather. She woke early and decided to spend the extra time on her appearance. If she was going to be on the front page of the paper she should at least make an effort with her hair. She used Lavender’s favorite curling charm and painstakingly coaxed her frizzy bed-head into thick, sleek masses of curls. Her hair was so thick that it took nearly an hour. She thought she had missed a few sections in the back, but her arms were tired so she gave up and went to breakfast.

“Ah, yeh look especially nice t’day, Hermione,” said Hagrid. “I don’t suppose you're nervous abou' the ceremony, are yeh?”

“Uh, thanks, and no, I’m not really nervous about the ceremony,” she said. It would not last long, and she would be back in the infirmary as soon as it was over.

“Right. Well, tha’s good then,” he said, piling half a plate of food onto his enormous serving spoon, which the house-elves always gave him instead of a regular one.

Hermione ate little and spoke even less. Hagrid did not seem to mind. He talked about dragons while Hermione poked at her food. It was only nine o’clock when she left the Great Hall, so she went to the infirmary to wait. Healer Jenkins and Leatherby, the Dark spells specialist, were already there with Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall.

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” said McGonagall, and they all turned to look at Hermione.

“Good morning,” Hermione said as pleasantly as she could while staring daggers at the Healers.

“I was just telling Healers Jenkins and Leatherby that you will accompany me to the ceremony this morning. They have assured me that we leave Professor Snape in good hands.”

Hermione nodded and went to Snape’s bedside.

I’m sorry I have to leave again, she thought. I’ll be back as soon as it’s over.

“Is Madam Pomfrey coming to the ceremony?” asked Hermione, forgetting that Madam Pomfrey was standing behind her.

“I am, Miss Granger,” said Pomfrey. “Healer Minkas and I have been asked to give a statement on Severus’ condition.”

“Oh,” said Hermione, wishing that somebody besides the Healers would be staying with Snape.

“Professor McGonagall, I, uh, forgot my purse. It's in my room,” Hermione said suddenly, whirling away from the bed. “Should I meet you back here before we leave?”

“That would be fine, Miss Granger,” said McGonagall with a questioning look.

Hermione hurried to her rooms. She grabbed her beaded bag, which was now organized and nearly empty. Then, she called for Truno. He appeared seconds later, looking as grumpy as ever.

“Miss called?”

“Truno, can I ask you to do something for me?”

Truno folded his thick, stumpy arms and said, “Truno is at Miss's service.”

Hermione smiled and crouched down next to him.

“Truno, I need you to stay in the infirmary with Professor Snape today. I have to go away, and so does Madam Pomfrey. I want you to watch the Healers – Jenkins and Leatherby, and listen to what they say about him. Watch everything they do while I’m gone, and give me a report when I get back. Can you do that?”

Truno blinked once, very slowly.

“Truno will do what Miss asks.”

“Thank you, Truno,” said Hermione. “Would you like to come to the infirmary with me?”

Without a word, Truno grabbed her arm. Hermione’s gasp of surprise was sucked out of her lungs as they Apparated. In the future, Truno was going to have to ask permission before Apparating her anywhere. They popped into the infirmary, almost knocking Jenkins over. Hermione coughed and glanced sheepishly at the shocked faces around her.

“All set now,” she said. McGonagall was frowning at her.

“I’ve told Truno to stay here until I get back. I thought Professor Snape would like some familiar company.”

“A house-elf?” scoffed Jenkins. Truno was glaring at him.

“Truno is a special house-elf,” said Hermione, patting his shoulder. “He’s very devoted to Professor Snape.”

Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall both gamely affirmed that he was, and it was decided that Truno would stay.

“It can’t hurt to have him here,” said Pomfrey. “He gets on quite well with the portrait.”

“Ah, yes! Truno and I are great friends!” exclaimed Dumbledore’s portrait. “He likes my stories.”

Truno just grunted and jumped up into Hermione’s usual chair.

“Well, Miss Granger, we should be going, I think,” said McGonagall presently. “Hagrid is escorting us to the ceremony and he’ll be waiting.”

The next moment there was a great screech and a red and gold blur swept into the room. Fawkes landed on the back of the chair where Truno sat and shook out his feathers. He seemed to be staring at Hermione.

Take care of him, Fawkes, thought Hermione. Fawkes bobbed his head once.

“So you’ve returned again, old bird,” said Dumbledore’s portrait affectionately. “It’s about time you paid me a visit. Still haven’t found her, then?”

The Healers gaped at the phoenix. Hermione was curious to know who Fawkes was looking for. McGonagall put a hand on Hermione’s arm and cautioned her with a look.

“Come, Miss Granger,” she said. “Ready, Poppy?”

McGonagall led Hermione away with a firm hand on her arm. Madam Pomfrey walked with them to the headmaster’s office, where Hagrid was waiting by the gargoyle. They Flooed directly to the Ministry and were greeted by the Minister of Magic, Marlin Klimpett. Hermione shook his pudgy hand when it was her turn and smiled politely when he told her how marvelous it was that she had recovered. He left them in a little room with some uncomfortable couches and a table with a tray of fruit.

Hagrid plopped down on one of the sofas and began tossing grapes into his mouth anxiously. Hermione sat on the other end and stared at the flowered wall paper. It was hideous, and it reminded her vaguely of the sort of garish, frilly patterns Umbridge preferred.

McGonagall was called out of the room by a witch in bright pink robes and thick-rimmed glasses, who turned out to be the event coordinator. A few minutes later, the witch was back for Hermione. She took her down the hall to another room, where McGonagall sat with Klimpett and a wizard with a quill sticking out of one of his robe pockets.

“Do sit down, Miss Granger,” said Klimpett. “Allow me to introduce you to Willie Beck, with The Daily Prophet.”

Willie Beck flashed a white smile at Hermione and stood to extend his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Granger,” he said. Hermione shook his hand, eyeing him suspiciously. He was very tan, as if he had just spent a week at the beach. He had a closely trimmed goatee and wore an earring. His hair was a shaggy mop of curls. He looked like he should be wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt, instead of sitting beside the Minister of Magic in tailored black robes that looked like they were a size too small. It was a bit like seeing Bill Weasley in proper wizard’s attire.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Miss Granger, for what I’m about to ask you,” he said, holding his hands up helplessly. “I’m just the messenger.”

Hermione couldn’t help smiling a little. He grinned back with his too-white smile.

“What Mr. Beck means to say is that The Prophet wants him to conduct an exclusive interview with you before the ceremony today,” said McGonagall impatiently. “Which was not part of our deal.”

Beck looked briefly annoyed, but then shrugged.

“She’s right, that’s why I’m here,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We’ve got fifteen minutes until the ceremony, Miss Granger. If you feel you’re up to an interview, I can make it as painless as possible.”

“And if I’m not up to it?” asked Hermione. Beck grinned again.

“Then I’ll say…” He paused.

“Well, you tell me,” he said, pulling out his quick-quill and letting it hover in the air above his notepad. “Are your eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying all morning? Did your gargantuan body guard threaten to break me in half if I so much as spoke to you? Or did Miss Hermione Granger throw me out on my ar – er –”

Willie glanced at Klimpett. “Or, did you tell me that you could not interview on such short notice because you don’t want to compromise the details of your personal account?”

Hermione smiled despite herself. Willie Beck must be trying to lose his job.

“I think it should probably be something like the last one.”

“Perfect,” said Beck, putting his quill back in his pocket and jumping up to shake her hand again. “Thank you for your time, Miss Granger. I look forward to our next interview.”

He winked at her and was gone. Klimpett shifted on the couch and coughed.

“Bloody waste of time,” he muttered, and then looked at Hermione.

“Miss Granger, there is one more thing before you go.”

McGonagall was staring significantly at Hermione, but Hermione had no idea what she was trying to communicate.

“Er – yes, Minister Klimpett?”

Klimpett leaned toward her conspiratorially.

“We’d like you to say a few words.”

Hermione stared at his bushy eyebrows. One was longer than the other.

“A few words, sir?”

“At the ceremony, Miss Granger! The Ministry would like you to say a few words about Professor Snape, your experience, anything you like. He was a good man, so they tell me, didn’t know him myself… there aren’t many who did. People want to know what he was like – you understand, Miss Granger – and who better to tell them than you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw McGonagall nod slightly. Klimpett leaned back again.

“Nobody will force you to speak, Miss Granger. I realize you’re completely unprepared. If we had known that you were well enough to attend we would have sent you a formal request. Whatever you decide, we will respect your decision… though it would be a great honor to speak today, Miss Granger,” Klimpett chuckled. “A great honor for you and for the Ministry, to have one of Harry Potter’s companions speak on Professor Snape’s behalf…”

“I’ll do it,” Hermione said, calmly interrupting him. He sat up and clapped his hands together.

“Ah, wonderful, Miss Granger! I knew you wouldn’t let us down. I told Minerva that you would help us out today… wonderful…”

Hermione was shown out by the witch in the pink robes, back to the room with the awful wallpaper. Hagrid had eaten all the fruit and was leaning back against the couch, whistling something off-key.

Just before the ceremony, McGonagall came back to sit with them.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” she said. “I’m afraid that once they found out you were coming, they were determined to have you speak. You needn’t say much.”

“It’s okay, Professor,” Hermione said. “I want to do it.”

She was not nervous. Snape occupied her thoughts entirely, and she did not have any room left in her head to worry about what she would say. She would just tell them the truth – she would say that she did not regret jumping in front of the curse, that Severus Snape was a good man, and that her dearest wish was for him to recover. Or else, she would just say ‘Thank you for your support in this difficult time,’ and be done with it.

They sat in the room until the pink-robed witch came and ushered them out again. There was a podium set up in the Ministry’s main hall. The whole place was full of witches and wizards. Flashes blinded Hermione as they walked out in front of the crowd behind Hagrid. There were chairs set up for them behind the podium, where Klimpett stood smiling and holding up his hand for silence. Hermione realized that the crowd had been cheering wildly. She heard her name shouted a few times, and someone cried out, “Where’s Snape?”

Urgent whispers rippled through the crowd.

She looked out at the unfamiliar faces, trying to find the Weasleys. They had said they would come. Every face was a round pink blob and all the colors of their robes ran together. She had to look away, stare at the ground, the ceiling, the back of Klimpett’s head, anything.

Klimpett finished speaking and there was applause. McGonagall got up to speak. Hermione did hear a word of it, but the Professor’s voice was low and serious. Madam Pomfrey and Minkas spoke next – Hermione wondered vaguely when Minkas had gotten there – and then McGonagall took the podium again.

“And so, it is with great sadness that I accept the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in place of Severus Snape. I name as my Deputy Head, Filius Flitwick, with full approval from the Board.”

She paused, and gave the podium back to Klimpett.

“Before the Oath of Office is performed...” he said, “Miss Hermione Granger would like to say a few words.”

He clapped with the crowd as Hermione stood up and wobbled to the podium on shaky legs.

“Good morning,” she said. It was a start. Hermione focused her eyes and was able to make out a few of the individual faces in the crowd. The Weasleys and Harry were to her left.

“I didn’t think I would be here today,” she said. “I didn’t expect to live long enough to see this ceremony.”

Mrs. Weasley looked like she was going to cry. Hermione swallowed and thought of Snape lying in the infirmary, cold as stone. She must be brief.

“But, like Professor McGonagall, I knew that Severus Snape would be a great Headmaster,” she continued. What came next? Hermione opened her mouth, not knowing what she would say next as word formed on her tongue.

Hermione would never know what she had tried to say that day. Her voice was drowned out by screams and shouts from the crowd. Hermione heard a familiar screech.

Fawkes had appeared above her head in a burst of flame. He flew back and forth, looking at her, his golden tail feathers sweeping the podium in front of her like a pendulum. He screeched again, and this time his tail hit her in the face. Hermione stared at it, realizing what she must do. She reached out and grabbed Fawkes’ tail, expecting him to lift her up over the crowd. Instead, Hermione felt as if she were being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste. She arrived back at Hogwarts, sticky, clammy, and breathless.

Her feet hit solid ground. She had squeezed her eyes were shut for the journey, and now she opened them. She was back in the infirmary, of course, staring at the rose window. Hermione spun around. Snape was in his bed, looking like he had been dead for a week. Not that Hermione knew what a week-old corpse looked like, but she imagined it would look grey and angular, like Snape did at that moment.

She ran to the bed, hot tears streaming down her face. The Healers and Truno were nowhere to be seen. Hermione pointed her wand at the door and locked it with a spell Harry had learned from the Half-Blood Prince – one of Snape’s own spells. The Healers would not be able to break in for a while.

Hermione climbed onto the bed, and reached out her trembling hands, afraid to touch him. She gently searched his blank, dead eyes with her mind.

There was a pinhole of light, a tiny spot of warmth somewhere in their depths! It disappeared and reappeared, flickering before her eyes like a single flame on a nearly-spent wick.

Professor Snape… I’m here! I’m back.

The light dipped and bobbed away from her, tossed by black waves. She pushed toward it urgently. It felt like trying to run through water.

Professor! Severus Snape! You have to come to me. Come back to me!

She was getting closer. The light was no longer moving, and the murky waves no longer pushed against her. It grew lighter, warmer. The spot was gone. Hermione stopped.

Professor Snape?

A shadow passed through her senses, a delicate shiver, like the brush of a veil being lifted from her eyes. There was no suitable way to describe it. Then, he was there.

Go.

Hermione had to remind herself to breath again.

Professor! I can hear you!

Another strange shudder wracked his mind.

Go – away.

Professor you don’t understand, you’ve been –

LEAVE ME!

He turned away from her. The light dimmed.