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Chapter 31: And So It Begins . . .



Rink took one look at his second favourite human and disappeared back to the kitchens. Swapping the lemon biscuits on the plate he'd been carrying for double-chocolate chip, he returned to Hermione's four-poster bed. It had been his long experience that food cured many ills among humans and that chocolate was a particularly potent medicine, especially among the female population of the castle.

"I am in so much trouble," the young miss moaned into her hands upon his return.

Trouble was serious indeed. Selecting one of the pillows that Miss kept for him, Rink settled down on the bed, knobby elbows to knobby knees. "Hermy has broken something?"

"No."

"Has touched something of the Master's that has been forbidden."

The young miss looked up at him through her fingers. "No," she said with a laugh. "Nothing like that." Grabbing one of the biscuits, she mirrored his pose. "What I've done is got myself way in over my head."

Rink nodded although he wasn't entirely sure what that meant or how it related to being in trouble. Trouble in his mind usually meant three things: something was broken, a given order was not carried out, or those in his care had come to harm.

"I need to spend some solid time with Harry and Ron this year. Harry needs me, even if he doesn't even know it. There's work to do with S.N.O.R.T.. I've just agreed to hold a Potions revision class that crosses five different years and includes a representative from every House. This is my N.E.W.T. year and I should already be revising and I haven't even started yet. My Arithmancy project is literally do or die rather than pass or fail. The Dark Lord is probably going to attack sometime in the next twelve months and . . . and . . ." she trailed off into silence before taking a bite of her biscuit.

Humans really were quite strange. This was not what Rink would have considered trouble. However, in a gesture of friendship, since she was considered an honourary house-elf, Rink offered her some of his favourite punishments.

"Would Hermy like Rink to bring her an iron? Hermy can iron her ears as punishment. Or Hermy can stub her toes against every stair in Hogwarts." Rink sat up straight with excitement as a thought occurred to him. "Hermy can slam fingers in Hogwarts' front door. Rink would be honoured to swing the door. Rink would take care to swing it very hard."

She began making an odd noise and Rink was about to get worried when he realised that the Miss was giggling. The sounds were muffled because she was biting the back of one of her knuckles. He gave an internal shrug. Not his preferred method of punishment, but he knew several house-elves who liked a good bite.

"Hermy sounds like she will be very busy. Elves like to be busy. Miss is not house-elf but has many fine house-elf traits and skills. Elves very impressed with Hermy. Rink does not understand why Hermy thinks she is in trouble."

"Fine house-elf traits, eh?" She gave him a smile. "Thanks." Then she grimaced and reached for another biscuit. "You're right, though, I do like to be busy. It's all important so I'm going to have to find time to fit it all in or figure out what's not important and drop it. Truthfully, it's not a Hermy kind of problem. It's a Hermione kind of problem and that's the part that has the rocks in my stomach."

Rink put his ears back in alarm. "Rink does not recommend swallowing rocks as punishment. Tuff swallowed rocks once." Rink shook his head sadly. "It did not go well."

"I –"

Miss blinked at him a couple times, her expression one he'd seen a few times on the faces of humans who regularly dealt with house-elves. Once day he would ask Lonnie to explain that look to him.

"Ooookay," she finally said, "I'll keep that in mind. But . . . well, may I tell you a secret?"

Rink perked up. "Elves are good at secrets. Rink will slam his fingers in Hogwarts front door before telling Miss Hermione's secrets."

She gave me a short laugh. "I don't think door slamming will be necessary. And I can't believe I'm telling . . . well, I can't exactly tell Ron or Harry, and Ginny's out and I never really bothered with the whole girlfriend thing. . ."

Rink frowned in confusion as he tried to follow her words. "Rink is not understanding. This is secret?"

She slumped forward, shoulders drooping. Rink thought that if she'd had ears they would have drooped too.

"No, the secret is that I think that I might . . . just maybe . . . possibly . . . okay, probably . . . like Professor Snape."

"Hermy has already said she likes Master." Rink folded his ears in confusion. "Rink likes Master."

Miss's head dropped back down into her hands. "Not that kind of like, Rink." She groaned softly. "I can't believe I'm about to actually say this out loud." Rising up, she propped her chin in her hands. "Snape, he's . . . okay, he's not really handsome. And he's rude. And he plays with people's heads and did I mention rude? But . . . I enjoy his company. A lot. He makes me laugh and he frustrates me and challenges me and really makes me want to hex him on occasion. Sometimes when he looks at me, my heart starts pounding and my palms start to sweat and I know, — I know — that it's just pheromones and chemistry but still . . . ."

She gave Rink a somewhat embarrassed smile. "I won't even mention the dreams, day or night versions."

Rink pushed the plate closer to Hermione and was pleased when she took another biscuit before she added, "I am so bloody well screwed."

"Rink still does not understand. Master likes Miss too."

"What?" Dropping the biscuit back on the plate she put her hands up to her head and folded her hands like elf ears. "Confusion and shock here, Rink. Please explain. Professor Snape what?"

Rink laughed. He really did like this human. Reaching up he repositioned her hands slightly. "Now is expressing proper confusion and shock. Right ear must be higher than left."

"Got it. Now about Professor Snape?"

"Master of Potions likes Miss."

"Rink, you say that like . . . like . . . how do you know that?"

"Rink has been with Master since Master joined Hogwarts. Master has been unhappy for many years. Rink tried, but Master remained unhappy. Now Miss is here. Miss makes Master happy. Master smiles. Master has laughed."

Miss gave him a small smile. "Thanks Rink, but I don't think it's quite the same thing."

Silly humans. "Rink knows," he assured her. "Elves know. Miss will see."

Severus carefully tucked several of Fawkes' feathers into one of the pockets of his robe as he descended the steps from Albus' office. Phoenix feathers, especially Phoenix feathers freely given, were a normally hard to come by ingredient in several of the more powerful healing potions. Having access to Fawkes was one of the perks of living at Hogwarts and one he took advantage of to the fullest.

Passing through the foyer of the castle he glanced up automatically at the point glasses. Ravenclaw was currently in the lead, but Slytherin was close behind them, followed by Gryffindor and then Hufflepuff — in last place again. In all the years he'd been at Hogwarts as both student and teacher, Hufflepuff had never won the House Cup or come in the lead on points. He'd never admit it to anyone, but just once, he'd like to see Hufflepuff win just so he could see and enjoy Minerva's expression.

A small smile flitted across his face. iThis is my last year in this place, whether I live or die. And it would take extraordinary subtlety and finesse so it couldn't be tracked back to me, not that anyone would expect something like this from me. It's sneaky and underhanded and very much not fair.

He stopped and took a careful look around him. The foyer was dark and empty, all good little students safe and sound in their beds. "Ten points to Hufflepuff," he said softly. His smile grew as the beads within the Hufflepuff glass shifted upwards. Between Granger and illicitly maneuvering Hufflepuff to a win . . . . And people say I have no sense of humor.

With an almost jaunty step, at least for him, Severus turned towards the stair that would lead him up to Vector's workroom.

Striding along the empty corridor, he made no effort to hide the ringing sound of his boot heels against the stone floor. He loved walking the castle at night, when it seemed that he was the only living thing within its walls. The castle had a weight and gravity to it that was harder to pick out during the day when the hustle and bustle of children filled its corridors. But at night, when all was still and calm and shrouded in shadow, the castle came alive to Severus, its semi-sentience easy to acknowledge as doors opened for him as he approached and moving stairways spun to accommodate his steps. He made sure, as he always did when he walked the castle at night, to acknowledge each of these acts with a brush of his hand along a banister or a murmured "thank you" to a door frame.

Some would have said that the castle's 'life' was a lonely sort of aliveness, but it fit well with the hollowness that had been his own life for these many years as he waited — waited for the Dark Lord to rise again, waited for Potter to grow up, waited for the time to pay the price for his own journey into the Dark.

He nodded cordially to the Grey Lady as she passed him. She nodded back. Neither spoke as both continued on their journeys.

It was good that the waiting was almost over.

The door to Vector's workroom was open, warm yellow lamplight spilling out into the hallway. He appreciated the fact that Vector was prone to keeping the same late-night hours as he did. Softening his steps until the only sound was the soft swishing of his robe against his legs, he approached her door. Propping a shoulder against the doorframe he took a moment to watch his fellow professor in amusement.

Vector was sprawled — there was no other word for it — on the floor of the room. Chalk dust coated every single surface and particles danced in the light. Vector herself was oblivious to his presence, her attention focused on the tangle of coloured lines hovering above her head. She was twitching her wand left and then right with the steady movement of a metronome. At each tick an equation on the far wall changed and with it the matrix changed as well.

Severus could muddle his way through some of the more basic and standard Arithmetic formulae but knew that the equations before him were quite simply beyond his expertise. Potion creation and brewing was as much art as methodical system to him, it had an aesthetic value, an almost visceral feeling, which Arithmancy seemed to lack.

A potion was about the whole made up of disseparate parts. Arithmancy focused on the parts, the whole being incidental in the creation. He'd once got into a conversation with a portrait painter and while they had been speaking of two different mediums, they had understood each other perfectly — this colour blue needed a touch more black to make it a 'real' blue — this potion needed four more lacewings flies to make it the 'ideal' strengthening potion — it was art and instinct.

Arithmancy had no soul to Severus, no passion and, most of all, no art. Not that he was fool enough to say that out loud to Vector. He had no doubt that the woman thought much the same of his own pursuits.

"You are a grown witch. Can you not conjure a chair?"

"Severus!" Vector rolled to her feet with a ridiculously pleased to see him expression on her face.

He winced as dozens of coloured lines pierced her head and torso. She must have caught his wince as she stepped away from the matrix with a quick "sorry" tossed in his direction.

"Let me guess, Albus sent you," she said, while giving a half-hearted swipe at her chalk-dust covered robes. It was a statement and not a question.

"Yes. He is . . . concerned."

She gave him a crooked grin. "Master of understatement, you are. He's been up here harassing me several times a day. I told him that the next time he showed up without being called for, I'd pull a Minerva and hex his sock collection."

"That would explain his request for me to check on you."

Vector shook her head in exasperation. "Annoying old bastard. Well, since you're here, pull up a chair."

With a wave of his wand, Severus conjured himself a place to sit. "I take it that nothing has changed?"

"Depends on your definition of 'changed.' If you are expecting major fluctuations, then no. If you are looking for the subtleties, then yes, lots of things have changed, most of which I can't pin down to a single happening. I know what Albus wants, but I can't just say that thisevent is what causes this reaction. Arithmancy doesn't work that way."

He indicated the mass of spinning lines, which looked odd to him, as if it were compressed on one side. "This is the whole matrix?"

"This? No. I was just running some what-ifs." A complicated gesture of her wand and the matrix reformed. "This is it."

He leaned forward. "Slow it down, if you would." Its spin decreased to a lazy, tumbling spiral, turning on its horizontal axis before rotating on the vertical. "How you see anything through that jumble is beyond me. Can you narrow it down to specific lines of probability?"

His eye caught on his own line and then Granger's line looping around his in a steady orbit.

Granger.

Potter might be destined to defeat the Dark Lord, but Granger was the key, he'd bet his life on it. But why her and why him? He knew what his usefulness was, but what was hers?

Albus had asked him if he'd ascertained her uniqueness.

Looping his path. Not on his path, but circling his steps, in synch with him, following where he walked.

Him. Not Potter, not Weasley. Him. How extraordinary to think he wasn't alone.

Vector frowned at him. "What are you looking for?"

What am I looking for?

"Severus?"

He shook his head. "Nothing specific, just something the headmaster said."

"If you tell me–"

"Then you run the risk of your interpretation causing influence."

She gave him a look that said she wasn't buying that explanation, but held up her wand. "What do you want to see?"

"Just remove the equations one at a time, if you would." When she nodded, he focused on the individual equation-covered blackboards scattered around the room, reading the individual names and groups listed. "Remove the Ministry of Magic."

A thick, multi-braided line running erratically through the matrix disappeared. He studied change, glanced back at the boards. Letting his eyes lose focus slightly he tried to see the manifestation of magic in front of him as he would a potion, letting the ebb and flow of the lines dictate his next actions. It shimmered like one of his potions, slightly iridescent to his unfocused gaze almost like the surface of a healing potion in mid-brew. His fingers brushed against the pocket holding the Phoenix feathers.

iMy thoughts earlier . . . not like a potion. But if it was . . . if this was a healing potion the colour would be wrong. What would I do to correct it? "Remove any individual Order members you have, but leave the Order as a whole."

"Leave you in or out?"

He thought for a moment, blinking slowly. "In. Do you still have me as both spy and as myself?"

"No, once Albus pulled me in, I combined your equations." She pointed to the back wall. "You, Severus Snape, take up almost an entire wall with your equation." She blew out a breath. "And I thought the headmaster's was complicated. Give me a second." Another wave of her wand. "There."

Again, multiple lines winked out of existence. Now, we are getting somewhere. "You have Houses?"

"Mostly for their influence and as a general characteristic behavioral block."

"Take them out as well. And any individual Death Eaters you have."

The colour is looking much better now. But still not quite right.

He let his eyes fall almost closed, the lines of colour bleeding together, colours swirling and mixing together.

"Severus?"

He ignored her, instead pulling out his wand. Ignoring the names on the various blackboards and focusing only on the swirling colours, he pointed. "Remove this one — here and here."

As they winked out one by one, he continued to study the matrix. Top notes are too bright. Drowning out the deeper coloring.

"Remove this one and these two." Again he pointed with his wand.

Better. But the iridescence is wrong. It needs . . .

"This one. These three." Colour shimmered. The correct colour.

Stepping back, he shook his head, blinking his eyes rapidly. Slowly the room swam back into focus. The matrix was much diminished.

"What is left?" he asked.

Vector was looking at him rather oddly, but he was used to that. He raised a brow at her hesitation. As usual with most people, the gesture provoked a response. She ticked off the lines as they spun past her. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, the Death Eaters, You-Know-Who, the house-elves, you, myself, Miss Granger, Filius and that Merlin-cursed rogue line."

"Filius?" he asked in surprise. "Are you sure?" She gave him another look; one he had no trouble interpreting. "Of course you are."

"Severus, do you mind telling me what exactly you were doing? You had that same abstracted look you get when you're brewing."

"I was . . . brewing."

Miranda waved back to the much simplified matrix. "What, a reduction potion? You've eliminated most of the matrix. What's left is–"

"What is left are the only ones that matter."

"By what logic? Arithmancy isn't a potion. You can't just toss in a few ingredients, give it six turns with a wand, and viola! Not to mention, in case you haven't noticed, you removed practically everyone, including Albus and the Order, but left You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. There is no way that you, me, Filius, three students, and the bloody house-elves are going to singlehandedly — well, not singlehandedly, because there'd be six of us, but you get my meaning — defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and all of his followers."

"Seven."

"What?" She was frowning at him in annoyed confusion.

He fought his own reaction to smirk at her. "You said six. It would actually be seven if you count the house-elves as one mass. Although, I do see your point. Filius is a bit of a surprise."

"Fil— Severus Snape, I'm not even sure Filius is a member of the Order. I have all the teachers listed for the same reason I have the Houses, because they influence individual lines, not because they are central to the fight."

"Nevertheless, Filius is key."

"Filius is key?" she growled in frustration. "Severus, you eliminated Albus. The headmaster — the one man that You-Know-Who fears. The man who is arguably the most powerful wizard alive today."

"Be that as it may."

"You're daft. And might I point out, that your life is still blinking in and out of existence in this configuration."

He waved her off. "It is of no consequence. My life has been hanging in the balance — or blinking in and out of existence, if you prefer — for most of my life. Nothing has changed." He stared at the pared down matrix, index finger tracing along his lower lip. "And the rogue line is still there. Curious."

"And still headed on a collision course with you and Miss Granger, I might add."

"Curious, indeed."

Quickening her step, Hermione stepped through the doors leading in to the Great Hall, eyes eagerly seeking out the Head Table. She'd grown complacent over the last couple of days. She was ready to introduce Professor Granger-Snape to her revisions class and S.N.O.R.T. seemed to be going well. Harry had seen a fair number of students show up for his revision class, which made him happy. The only dark cloud on her horizon was the fact that Snape had been missing from dinner the previous evening and the headmaster had not been his usual ebullient self, but had instead excused himself soon after finishing his meal.

Snape was still missing from his usual place at the table. This morning the headmaster was back in his usual seat, but he still looked distracted and tired. Her eyes slid down to the other end of the table where Vector was methodically cutting something on her plate into what looking to be very small, very precise pieces.

Settling into her seat, Hermione made half-hearted noises of acknowledgement at Lavender as the other girl chatted beside her, completely oblivious to Hermione's distraction. Lavender had, sometime in the last week, decided that Ron was quite a catch. Somehow, she'd got it into her head that Hermione would be a willing ear to long, rambling discourses on the wonderfulness of the youngest male Weasley.

Frankly, Lavender was beginning to annoy Hermione. Thankfully breakfast arrived and proved to be a sufficient distraction before Hermione did something she might not necessarily regret, but would definitely feel guilty about later.

With Lavender's chatter finally ceased, Hermione's attention swung over to the Slytherin table. Slytherin House's mood as a whole was usually a fairly good indication of what kinds of things were happening in and out of Hogwarts. Of course, reading the Slytherins wasn't always that easy to do but this morning she noticed several students who had distracted or worried looks to them. That did not bode well, especially considering Snape's absence.

To make matters worse, the previous evening had been the full moon. She'd been reading the Daily Prophet like everyone else and knew that Voldemort was sending out attacks on nights of the full moon to take full advantage of the werewolves that had gone over to his cause. With the Order's continued use of the house-elves, the reported successful attacks had been dwindling but the attacks themselves hadn't stopped. The Order and even the house-elves couldn't be everywhere.

She was afraid that with Snape missing from dinner the previous evening, that the long awaited, and dreaded, summons from Voldemort had occurred. She poked at her porridge. What if Snape hadn't healed enough? What if Voldemort killed him? What if-

The sound of beating wings filled the chamber as the morning flight of owls delivered their package and letters. Still concentrated on Snape, she absently paid the Daily Prophet post owl before tucking the paper beneath her thigh on the bench.

Is there anything I can do from a S.N.O.R.T. perspective? she wondered. Probably not, she decided. But that did remind her that she wanted to get the Marauder's Map back from Harry. Maybe she could find a way to copy the map so she wouldn't be so obvious in her wanting to have it and keep it. Harry had been accommodating enough last year, but she couldn't hold onto the map for long without arousing suspicions.

"Hermione?" Lavender nudged her shoulder.

"Hmm?"

Lavender was looking odd, her expression pinched. "You get the Prophet, don't you?"

The question made Hermione's blood freeze. She scanned the Great Hall, its usual noisy morning routine was silenced as heads all across the room were bent together. Snatching her own paper up, she opened it to the front page as Harry, Ron and Dean gathered around her.

A picture took up almost the entire top half of the paper. It centered on the phone booth that was the street entrance to the Ministry of Magic complex. The greenish Morsmordre hung luridly against a darkening sky. Beneath the picture in three inch, bold, scrolling type, the headline read:MINISTRY IN CHAOS AS MINSTER OF MAGIC SCRIMGEOUR ASSASSINATED!

This paper has learned that at 23:06 last evening, the Ministry of magic was targeted by You-Know-Who's forces. Our late Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour staged a heroic and valiant fight against the forces assailing the Ministry. This reporter was told personally by Pius Thicknesse, Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement, that our Minister of Magic Scrimgeour put up a considerable fight in his final moments, refusing to talk even while being tortured by Death Eaters. (See side story: The Life of Rufus Scrimgeour, page 6).

This reporter has also learned that Pius Thicknesse will be appointed Acting Minister by the Wizengamot until such time as the current lawlessness running rampant through our community can be contained.

Acting Minister Thicknesse's first order of business this morning was to declare Martial Law. All citizens are urged to remain calm in their homes until such time as further news is broadcast. (See side story: Who is Pius Thicknesse, page 8). Acting Minister Thicknesse also stated that he will be sending out Aurors to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to ensure that all students are well protected in this dangerous time.

This reporter wants to know how the Ministry is going to respond to this deplorable attack upon the very foundation of our society? If even the Ministry is vulnerable, who is going to protect the citizens of Wizarding Britain?

"You-Know-Who is in control of the Ministry. I'd bet everything I own that Thicknesse is either a Death Eater or Imperiused."

Hermione cast a startled look at Ron. He shrugged under her regard.

"It's what I'd do," he said, "if I was trying to gain control. Take control of the Ministry and put my own puppet in place — someone who looks harmless but that I could direct. It makes strategic sense and puts You-Know-Who in a power position to control the board."

"What do you mean 'control the board'?" Dean asked.

"In chess terms, yeah, that's what he's done. And them sending Aurors here . . . that's not for protection. That's to control us — to control Harry."

Ch 32: Inappropriate

 

Author's Note 1: I love reader questions and I usually try to respond to most reviews, especially the ones that ask me things about the story. I admit, some chapters I'm better at it than others. So, here is my plea to you wonderful readers — if you ask things in a review, give me a way to respond. Arrrggghhhh!! Several of you asked great questions or made excellent points about the last chapter but didn't leave an email addy or sign into FFN. It was just making me nuts not being able to respond. And really, do you want a nutty author? Well, an even nuttier author.


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