Chapter 26: Ron's Big Entrance

Hermione went back down the stairs with a much heavier step than when she'd arrived earlier that morning. She recognised the cosmic irony in that. Most people would have gone to Snape's room with dread and left with glad hearts and quick feet.

Rounding the landing, she heard the painting of Mrs Black give an exaggerated sniff of disdain and a muttered, "Mudblood wretch! About time you realised your station as a servant."

Insane old harridan, she thought.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione dropped into her best Upstairs, Downstairs curtsey. "Yes, ma'am." She had found that if she humoured the painting it cut down tremendously on subsequent screeching. It also amused her that the painting seemed to have no idea that Hermione was mocking it.

Her actions earned her another sniff but no yelling. Counting it as a victory, she continued on down the stairs where she caught the sound of laughter coming from the library. She vaguely remembered Tonks yelling about mail call earlier, but she'd been so caught up in the history Snape was telling her that she'd dismissed it.

She contemplated sticking her head in to see if anything had come for her, but knew if she did the room would go silent. It wasn't that everyone was still mad at her, just Harry. It was just that no one seemed to know how to talk to her anymore. It was a circumstance that was as much, if not more, her fault rather than anyone else's. She'd not really made any effort to integrate herself back in to the social atmosphere of those that came and went at Grimmauld Place. At first, she'd been concentrating on the unconscious Professor Snape. But now that he was awake, and she had more free time, it was hard to re-engage with everyone.

It just wasn't worth the effort, she decided, and then suddenly wondered if that was how Snape felt. She was positive he felt isolated at times. Most people disliked him, although that seemed a deliberate choice on his part. Well, she amended, maybe not completely a choice since it covered up a lot of his spying activities. But then when he wanted to reach out and connect, he was left trying to fight against his own reputation.

Shaking her head at the unfairness of it all, she turned towards the stairs leading down to the kitchen.

Brolly and Pella, the two elves that had taken over the kitchen, crowded close as she stepped through the door. Having already been through this with all of Snape's other meals, Hermione lowered the tray enough so that both elves could see the dishes and what did, and didn't, remain in them.

Pella clucked her tongue, while her ears folded forward in what Hermione had come to recognise as pleasure. "Told Hermy that Master would like that porridge with bananas better than cinnamon."

Hermione laughed. "Pella, you are a kitchen elf without equal. I should never have doubted you. And, he ate the whole bowl which is a vast improvement over the cinnamon. He was leaving some of that behind. I'm thinking maybe tomorrow we can offer some cut-up fruit. You have anything that's not too acidic?"

Both ears went back before they swept sharply down. "Pella will find perfect fruit for the Master of Potions."

Challenge accepted, Hermione thought with a hidden grin. Snape would have the freshest, best-tasting fruit in all of Britain tomorrow morning.

Satisfied that Snape was eating their food, Brolly and Pella returned to the lunch and dinner preparations, leaving Hermione to deal with Snape's dirty dishes. Of course, they only let her do that in her role as Hermy. Hermione had found that being Hermy had both good and bad aspects. The good was that she could do things for herself, and for Snape, without completely scandalizing the elves. The bad was that she got referred to as Hermy, a habit that the other elves had picked up from Rink. Thank goodness they only did it when she was 'working'. She really didn't want to hear the teasing she'd get if Ron, or heaven help her, the twins, ever heard her referred to by her house-elf name. There would be no living that down.

She was actually rather glad to do the dishes though. She had found that manual labor had benefits over the use of magic. It allowed her hands to keep busy and her mind to roam free to whatever topic had currently caught her fancy — hot water and suds — the Zen of dishwashing.

Moving to the sink, she dumped in Snape's dishes and grabbed up a few others that were still sitting around from breakfast. Brolly looked up at her, and blinked a few times, but didn't say anything as he went back to his own work.

Wrist deep in hot water and bubbles, she went over the conversation with Snape in her head. There was much there to think about in what he'd told her. His history was both horrible and fascinating, even inspiring in parts. Again, she had to wonder about the person — or maybe it had just been an event — that had broken his downward spiral into Dark magic use. She knew of three times when she'd seen him lose the tight grip he usually kept on himself and let loose his temper: the night with Sirius in the Shrieking Shack and later in the infirmary, that early morning months ago when she'd run into him in the hallway outside the Hogwarts library, and the night in the kitchen when she'd first told Snape her suspicions about Harry. He'd been frightening in his rage each time. Now, Hermione had a context in which to put his anger and understood so it so much better.

Harry was going down that path now. She had no proof that he was playing with Dark magic, but she knew, deep down in her gut, what Harry was doing and it filled her with a profound sadness. She had no doubt that Harry was doing it because he thought it was the only way to defeat Voldemort. And with the prophecy that they had all heard, she knew that Harry would do whatever he thought he had to do to make sure the prophecy became reality.

In that moment, she hated Dumbledore. Usually, she was pragmatic enough to intellectually, if not emotionally, understand the choices the headmaster had made. But she wasn't sure she could easily forgive what he'd done to her friend. You could argue that Snape was a grown man and had made his own choices, but Harry hadn't been given much of a choice at all.

Oh, Harry.

The sad part of it all was that for all that Harry hated and distrusted Snape, he was following right along in Snape's footsteps — making the same mistakes and falling into the same traps. Harry had once told them that the Sorting Hat had almost put him into Slytherin. Knowing everything she knew now, Hermione had to wonder if maybe that would have been a better choice. He could have respected and trusted Snape, and the man could have steered Harry clear of problems, or at least could have been around to teach him to learn from his own mistakes.

So much would have been different if Harry had trusted Snape instead of doubting him, and casting him into the role of antagonist at each turn — the Philosopher's stone, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the aborted Occlumency lessons, the disastrous trip to the Ministry the night Sirius died . . . so many things could have been otherwise.

What a complete waste.

But what was done, was done. She and Ron, with a little help from Snape, were going to help Harry now, even if he didn't particularly want to be saved.

Of course, that led directly into a different problem — Ron and Snape. Ron didn't outright hate Snape the way that Harry did, but he most definitely disliked him. The aversion that had built up over the past six years was going to be hard to overcome. She had no idea how to make that work. Maybe she should ask the professor his thoughts on that one. Gryffindor frontal-assault tactics weren't going to cut it. Perhaps a more Slytherin approach was in order.

Thinking of Ron made her think about Snape's other comments concerning Ron. It made sense that Ron had the influence to break Harry out of his cycles of anger and magic. With a shock of guilt, she realised that if she had never gotten involved with Snape, she'd probably be that kind of person for Harry too. She had been at one time, she realised, thinking back to her and Ron's intervention. It was her confrontation with Harry, complete with finger in his chest, that had broken him out of his rant. And there was that guilt again. A part of Harry didn't trust her anymore — wouldn't let her be there for him. All because of Professor Snape.

Dipping back into the hot water, she picked up another plate.Professor Vector found Hermione in the kitchen putting away Snape's breakfast dishes while two house-elves bustled around the space preparing other food. As Vector settled herself at the long kitchen table, a cup of her favourite tea and a small plate of chocolate biscuits were soon set before her, the elves not even missing a beat in their other preparations.

"The house-elves seem to be accepting your presence among them very well," she said to Hermione, after taking a bite of one of the biscuits.

Not really wanting to explain her relationship with the elves, Hermione gave a small shrug. "We've come to an understanding." Looking up, she flashed the two kitchen elves a rueful smile before adding, "I still get disapproving looks though if I try to get too involved."

Almost to prove her point, one elf gave her a narrow-eyed look before taking away the tray that had been sitting on the table. Rather than fight the inevitable, Hermione just shook her head and surrendered gracefully. Taking a seat at the table, Hermione soon had a cup of tea and an even larger plate of biscuits sitting in front of her.

"You're looking a little distressed. Snape duties not going well?" Vector asked.

Hermione did not fail to notice that this was asked kindly and without the usual derision that sounded when most people asked about Snape.

Hermione hesitated, and then said, "Can I ask you something? Something personal, I mean?"

Vector studied her over the rim of her cup for a moment before answering, "You may. I don't promise to answer."

Hermione nodded, satisfied with the response. "Do you like Professor Snape?" At Vector's somewhat startled expression, she hastily added, "Oh, I don't mean like . . . you could like him like that. There's nothing wrong with that. Professor Snape is . . . is . . ."

Vector gave up trying to keep a straight face and let out a peal of laughter. "Stop. Please stop," she begged, holding up a hand in entreaty.

Blushing furiously, Hermione snapped her mouth closed and dropped her head into her hands. "That did not come out the way I intended."

"Obviously," chuckled Vector. "Before I answer you, answer me a question: why do you want to know?"

Reluctantly, Hermione raised her head up. "Professor Snape has agreed to mentor me. I guess you'd call it lessons in critical thinking."

"That's an admirable goal and something that people don't do as much of as they probably should."

"Professor Snape would agree with you," Hermione said with a small smile. "The professor also told me that you can't think critically until you have all the information. He's been kind enough to answer some questions for me."

"Ah, I begin to see your problem. With answers, come more questions. You are beginning to form you own opinions about things that you've never had doubts about in the past like . . . ." Vector let the word trail off, inviting Hermione to fill in the blanks.

"Like Professor Snape."

Vector made a non-committal noise which Hermione took as a sign to continue.

"Professor Snape is-" Hermione blushed. "I'm sure you've heard the other students at Hogwarts talk."

Vector nodded. "Professor Snape's reputation is well known. He is not an especially soft or easy man."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, thankful that Vector seemed to understand what she was trying to say. "He's seems to be that way with everyone, even people here in the Order. But, I've also seen him be cordial and almost nice. It's just that some people seem to get . . well . . . ."

"Seem to get better treatment?" Vector finished for her.

Hermione nodded.

Vector gave another short laugh. "To answer your first question — impertinent though it is — yes, I like Severus Snape. To fill in that lovely hole you dug for yourself, no, I don't like him that way — the headmaster's poor attempts at matchmaking aside."

Hermione felt an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck. "I didn't mean-"

"I know. Professor Snape, as I'm sure you know, doesn't suffer fools gladly. But I have worked with him on many projects over the years. During those times, I've typically found him to be an often witty, acerbic, demanding, and tough professional colleague. I can not say, however, that I am his friend. Truthfully, I'm not sure that Professor Snape has any friends. I used to wonder about that. Having his role confirmed within the Order of the Phoenix has explained a lot of the questions I've had about Snape over the years.

"Allow me to give you a bit of reassurance and maybe a little advice. Severus Snape has patience for very few people in this world. That he has deemed you worthy of his time speaks volumes. Be proud of that accomplishment, for very few people have earned his regard. So there was the reassurance. Here's the advice — let him teach you. For all his bite, you'll not find a better teacher. But remember that Snape is Snape. Don't expect him to be your friend, you'll just wind up tying yourself in knots."

Vector set her cup back down with a decisive click of porcelain cup against plate. "Now, to the reason I was actually looking for you. We were talking the other night about the equations I've been using. Are you still interested in seeing the matrix more closely? I've finally got a workspace set up."

Deciding that maybe getting her swirling thoughts off Ron and Harry and Snape might do her some good, Hermione told Vector she was still very interested.

"Are you available now?"

"Sure, Professor."

"Good. Grab the biscuits and we'll be off. I've commandeered an empty room on the second floor."

A few minutes later, Hermione was entering the oddest workspace she'd ever seen: not a single piece of furniture remained in the former bedroom. The walls had been covered in chalkboards and there was a small pile of broken chalk pieces in the middle of the empty floor.

Vector spotted her eyeing the room.

"I work best with less clutter," she explained. "Feel free to conjure yourself a chair." Then with a complicated wave of her wand, Vector re-created the multi-colored matrix that Hermione had seen in the Order meeting.

The slowing spinning lines of color captured her full attention. "It's beautiful."

"It is, isn't it," Vector agreed. "I know we aren't at Hogwarts, but why don't we review a little first? It will help you with the higher order equations." Another wave of her wand and a small chalkboard appeared, floating in midair. "Here we have the numerology charts for three. Three, and its multiples, play an extremely important part within the equations."

"You covered threes during second year. But with this many people involved, wouldn't seven have been a greater power number?"

"Usually," Vector said, stressing the word. "However, any good arithmancer, in fact any good researcher really, always keeps an open mind to whatever the equations are telling them, not the numbers they are expecting. That's where many arithmancer's go wrong. They come in with preconceived numbers and force the equations to match those numbers. Those types of results are never as accurate as they could be."

Vector pointed to several of the other boards. "Here and here and most definitely here. Tell me what you see."

Hermione studied the equations. They were more elaborate than anything they had studied in class but as she stared at them, she could see some of the underlying basics. Checking her work back against the smaller blackboard with the numerology chart, Hermione began to see the pattern of threes that Vector had mentioned.

"Harry, Ron and I," she said. "Three times denied — that's from the prophecy." Pointing to another equation, she added, "Professor Dumbledore and the Dark Lord" — using Snape's terminology for Voldemort — "and Professor Snape." The last said with surprise.

"Professor Snape acts like the equal sign in many of my equations. He is the balance point between either side."

Her curiosity got the better of her. "Which is his line representation?"

"The grey one. For the longest time, he was represented simply as the Order's spy. I was actually rather surprised at how little the matrix changed once I named him."

Hermione didn't say anything but knew that in equations where a true name didn't dramatically affect the outcome, that usually meant that the person's professional or title was as much a part of them as their name. She felt a burst of sympathy for Snape at that — that his life as a spy had become so much a part of him that it was now an almost indistinguishable part of who and what he was.

Vector used her wand as a pointer. "Here is the line for the Order of the Phoenix. Here, You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters."

Hermione followed the lines with her eyes to where everything seemed too cross. "That's the coming confrontation."

"I call it the Final Battle," Vector said with a grimace. "It's a right stupid name — the battle between good, and those who would destroy good, is never just over in one great battle. But I couldn't keep calling it 'that point where all the lines converge and lots of things happen'."

She gave a bit of a mocking laugh at Hermione's startled expression. "Yes, I'm being rather flip about it, but if you stare at the equations long enough and start charting out just how destructive this has the potential to be . . . well, Final Battle is easier to say and sounds like some ancient heroic battle rather than the disaster for the wizarding world my equations predict it could be."

"Oh," Hermione said.

Vector pointed again. "You might find these lines interesting. They map various individuals that we believe will have strong influences. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are represented, as are you, each separately and together, as we have noticed over the years that you work best as a team when confronting problems."

Hermione focussed back on Snape's convoluted and rather serpentine thread through the matrix then noticed her own path connecting with his. "You said this is me?" she asked, pointing to a line.

"Yes."

"I cross Professor Snape." She wasn't sure why that surprised her, but it did.

Vector laughed again. "You yourself told me that Professor Snape has agreed to mentor you. Add in the forced interaction of you providing care for him until he's up and about . . . it only makes sense that it shows up here."

"I guess." She felt rather uncomfortable with the knowledge, almost as though she'd been spied on.

Hermione studied the lines more, mapping out where each crossed and making mental notes about the questions she wanted to ask Professor Vector. Comparing the lines back to the equations, she could see how and why Vector had done her mappings the way she had but some of the higher order mathematics were things she'd not yet been taught. She'd come back to those spots later.

Seeing another interesting line, she started following it. It seemed to be following her and Snape through the matrix. Reaching out again, she touched a finger to the line . . . and suddenly the entire matrix shifted.

Tracing across she tried to pinpoint the change and something like ice water ran down her spine as she found the change. Where her line continued past the point Vector was calling the Final Battle, Snape's had disappeared.

"What just happened?" she asked, her voice sharp in her own ears.

Vector looked up from where she'd been making a modification to one of the base equations. It took a few seconds to see the change at which Hermione was staring. "Merlin's balls," she swore. "It hasn't done that in a while." Turning back to her board, she scrubbed out her change with the side of her fist and Snape's line leapt back into existence.

Hermione's heart was pounding. That a life could be so easily snuffed out . . .

"You killed Professor Snape."

"Not hardly. I changed the probability reading to something where it was likely he would not survive, but this is not set in stone. It's not the only possible outcome and I certainly don't control events, only find the most likely scenarios so that we can choose the best course of action that results in the least amount of death."

"If it's only probabilities, how are you accounting for the random movement of-" Hermione stopped as Brolly appeared suddenly in the room.

Giving a small bow to Professor Vector, he turned his attention to Hermione. "Pella says Miss is to come to the kitchens. The Master of Potion's lunch is needing attention."

Glancing at her watch, Hermione noted the time. She hadn't realised so much time had passed. "Thank you, Brolly. I'll head down to the kitchens."

When the house-elf has disappeared, Hermione turned a rueful smile to Vector. "Sorry Professor Vector but duty calls." She gestured to the spinning matrix. "Can I come back? This is really fascinating and I'd love to ask you some more questions about how you mapped this out."

Vector gave her a broad smile. "If you are interested, you are more than welcome to come back. Not many really enjoy Arithmancy."

Hermione headed for the door and tossed a "Thanks Professor" over her shoulder as she left.Putting lunch together took a little longer than Hermione had anticipated. Pella had made Snape a barley and mushroom soup and Hermione had worried that the spices might be too much. After doing some taste testing, and receiving some smug looks from Pella, Hermione had agreed that the soup would work.

The wizarding world, Hermione had decided, was woefully uninformed about house-elves. They might present as shy, retiring and subservient, but Hermione suspected that few people had ever tried to cross a head kitchen elf while she was in her own kitchen.

Balancing the food tray against her hip, Hermione headed up the stairs. Approaching Snape's door, she was surprised to find it cracked open a few inches. She knew that she'd left it closed. Knowing that Snape could not have opened it, she was curious as to who was visiting the Potions master. Drawing closer to the door, she was startled to hear Vector's laughter and completely shocked to hear Snape's rich baritone sound right after.

Unable to stop herself, she sidled closer to the doorway so she could hear the conversation within, suddenly afraid that Vector was telling Snape about her questions earlier regarding him.

Within she could hear Snape talking.

"So the elf just brought you here?"

"Oh yes. You should have seen Albus' face," Vector said, laughing again. "He was right in the middle of telling the poor fellow that he wasn't going anywhere and the next thing I know, we're both standing in the foyer. I don't think I've ever seen him that caught off guard before in my life. And then right on the heels of that, to have Healer Alverez storm in. It was not a good day for the headmaster."

"As it was my life that was saved, I find that I cannot feel sorry for him."

The words were rather sharp but even out in the hallway Hermione could hear the humor in Snape's voice. He was enjoying his conversation with Vector. It was a realisation that made a place in her chest twinge oddly.

"Well, I can say that I'm rather glad it worked out as it did with you still breathing. It would have meant a ton of re-work for me, you know."

"We wouldn't want that."

"Trust me, we wouldn't. But that does bring up the reason I stopped by. Since you missed the presentation earlier I gave to the Order, I want to come by later and show you what I've done. I think you can help me refine the equations, especially those dealing with You-Know-Who and the various Death Eaters."

"I believe my calendar is empty for the evening."

"Oh, and I want to involve Miss Granger."

"Whatever for?"

"She mentioned that you were acting as her mentor; doing some critical thinking."

"I am."

"If we survive all this, I'm thinking of offering her an apprenticeship. "

Hermione was so stunned she almost didn't hear the next part of what Vector was saying. "She's got a good head on her shoulders for Arithmancy. Most Mugge-borns do since they come from a more mathematically and scientifically oriented background than wizard-borns. She's been top of her Arithmancy class from the day she stepped into the classroom."

"And what do you think, Miss Granger? Would you like an apprenticeship?"

Hermione froze, fighting down the urge to run. Not that she had anywhere to run, Snape knew she was outside. Pulling together her courage, she titled her chin up and entered the room.

Snape was propped up in his bed with one eyebrow cocked. Vector was sitting in her chair with a bemused expression on her face.

"I was just delivering your lunch, sir," hoping that a good defense would save her.

"Two things: one, if you are going to skulk outside doors-"

"I was not skulking."

"If you are going to skulk outside doors, do not carry soup that sensitive noses can smell. And two, never stand where your shadow will cross the doorframe. Now, you said something about delivering my lunch?"

Silently fuming, but unable to counter what he was saying because she had been caught eavesdropping, Hermione set the tray to hovering over his lap. Oddly enough, Hermione got the impression that Snape wasn't angry with her, but rather pleased with himself. But then she supposed that the Head of Slytherin would be well used to students who tried to gather a little illicit information.

Vector's expression was now openly amused. "I'll be going now. Miss Granger, think about the offer. I think you have the potential to be a very good arithmancer. Snape, I'll come by later and we can go over the matrixes." With a nod for each of them, she stepped out of the door.

"Are you planning on standing there, or are you going to sit?"

He's just trying to rile me, she reminded herself as she took a seat.

Snape cautiously took a spoonful of soup, contemplated its taste for a moment before giving a nod. He dipped his spoon down into the bowl again. "I've given some consideration to how we will enlist Mr. Weasley's assistance."

"I was thinking about that earlier as well," she said, surprised that his thoughts had been going along the same path as her own.

"Then we will have to compare notes."Hermione found Ron making low sweeps on his broom out in the garden. The twisting, acrobatic moves made her stomach curl in nauseating ways just from watching him. Not wanting to break his concentration, and risk him falling, she waited somewhat patiently until he spotted her.

A huge grin plastered across his freckled face, Ron flew over to hover right in front of her, his toes just brushing the ground.

"Hermione, did you see that last move? Absolutely killer. No way is Slytherin going to get a ball past me this year."

She gifted Ron with a smile. She might not be all that enthused about Quidditch or flying, but his excitement was contagious and made her happy for him. "Well done, Ron."

"Did you need something?"

"Actually, yes, I wanted to ask you a favour. Is Harry with Dumbledore?"

Ron grimaced. "Yes, one of their super secret meetings, though I don't get what's so secret about Professor Dumbledore telling Harry about You-Know-Who."

Hermione had known Ron a long time. He was trying to hide it but she could still hear the hurt in his voice from being excluded from Harry's special lessons. It didn't matter that Ron, now knowing the full extent of the prophecy that tied Harry and Voldemort together, knew why Harry got the special treatment. Emotions, after all, were rarely logical.

She knew Ron loved Harry as his best friend, but that didn't mean that he didn't also feel ignored sometimes in the Harry Potter shadow.

"So, what's the favour?"

"Professor Snape is confined to bed and is rather bored," she began, only to be cut off by a wide-eyed, and rather horror-stricken Ron.

"Oh no. No. No. No. No. I'm not watching the big bat."

"Ronald Weasley, I'm not asking you to watch Professor Snape. I'm not even asking you to talk to him. I'm trying to ask you to go play chess with him. I've certainly watched enough of your matches in the Gryffindor common room to know that you can go several games straight and do nothing more than utter monosyllabic grunts at your opponent. I've also listened to you whine often enough about not having a challenging opponent. I think we can both agree that Professor Snape could, in all probability, give you a good match.

"Do you even know if he plays? I've never seen him play at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, he plays," she snapped back in exasperation, but didn't elaborate on her knowledge. She was not telling Ron that the chess game idea had been Snape's or that she'd been in Snape's room several months back and had seen a chessboard set up in mid-play on a side table.

"Will you do it? Please?"

Looking thoroughly dejected, Ron grumbled out a less-than-heartfelt, "Fine. But you owe me, Hermione."

She gave him brilliant smile. "Thanks Ron. It'll be worth it. I promise."Author's Note: I have broken one of the rules of writing. I'm having the killer pull out a gun without first letting the audience know that there was a gun in the desk drawer to begin with. Well, not a gun exactly, but a chess set that should have been described waaaay back in the chapter where Rink takes Hermione to Snape's room to put the sleeping sheets on his bed. hangs head in shame I'm bad.

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