Chapters 121-130

Remember, Remember

Hermione marched into the dungeon precisely five minutes before the students arrived. With decisive flicks of her wands she prepared the workstations. She frowned at the sluggish behaviour of her left wand. Would she never get the hang of this? She bit down on her lip. Concentrating hard, she executed the necessary wand-movement to open the doors of the storeroom with utmost caution. She knew better than to try levitating the glasses with the rat tails with her left.

BANG!

Hermione winced. At least the doors were open now. Hopefully she’d have the chance to pursue her wand-lessons with her husband and Flitwick now.

The noise of many feet and voices drifted down the corridors. High pitched squeals and muttered insults mingled. Double Potions with the Second Year Gryffindors and Slytherins was almost upon her. Hermione straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her chest, allowing her apprentice robes to billow around her.

I know I promised, she thought. But…

The door opened and an avalanche of student robes, adorned with chattering mouths, sleep-ruffled hair and keen children’s eyes burst into the room. With surprising speed the children sorted themselves behind their respective desks. This was one of two Potions classes that was not strictly segregated between Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione wasn’t sure if the same happened in other classes or indeed if any other teacher knew about that. All she knew was that having Alina Petrel seated next to Barret Cruddace and Myrrdin Loewe partnered with Geilis Duncan with a playful Haemon Rackharrow just behind them might possibly be good for inter-house relationships. It certainly was not good for the peace and quiet of her classroom.

She drew herself up to her full height and glared at the students.

‘I’m very sorry to be such an inconvenience to you,’ she snarled. ‘But as you can see, certain rumours about my untimely demise at the hands of my husband were only that: nasty rumours.’

Hermione flicked her right wand in the direction of the blackboard, where the brewing instructions for the Hair-Raising Potion appeared instantly.

‘I suggest that you start working. Now. And no chattering. This is potions time, not story telling time.’

A wave of shocked gasps flowed through the dungeon. None of the students dared to meet her eyes in the subsequent hush. Hermione snorted and sat down at the desk in front, drawing a stack of essays from one of her study groups towards her.

This was not the manner she usually taught—much to the chagrin of her husband, who saw a relaxed atmosphere in his dungeon as a danger to life and limbs of students. A wry grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. Severus would probably approve of her bad temper: More discipline in the dungeon. And all students alive and kicking. Though if she found out who exactly had been spreading those rumours, she wouldn’t make any guarantees…

oooOooo

‘Remember, remember, the fifth of November,’ Hermione muttered, as she hurried towards the Room of Requirement, trying to keep up with the longer legs of her husband, who was swooping ahead of her with swirling robes and long strides.

And why did the Order meeting have to start so early? she groused in her mind. There had been no time for a nap after dinner. Not that she had necessarily contemplated a nap as such. When she ducked into the room, Hermione suppressed a sigh. Desks arranged in a businesslike ‘U’, refreshments…it was going to be a long night. And she had to teach Double Potions on Monday morning…At least that particular class was only Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

She slid into a seat next to Severus at the back of the room. Ignoring his customary scowl, she smiled at him shakily. ‘Butterbeer, Severus?’

oooOooo

‘Mrs. Snape, please tell the Order members what you remember of Tuesday evening.’

Hermione rose from her seat and took a deep breath. She focused on Minerva. It was easier that way. ‘At around ten o’clock I went outside to patrol the gardens. Just a quick check to make sure there were no students out of bounds. In the rose garden, I happened on what I initially thought was a student in the disguise of a Weasley Wheezes costume…’

oooOooo

‘Is there anything else you remember?’

Hermione frowned. Everything had happened so quickly. Her memories of the evening were foggy and disconnected. Memory loss was one of the common side-effects of entering the Realm of Death. She was actually very lucky if only the memory of that very evening was impaired.

But there was something. Her brows knit together in intense concentration. Something. Roses. Rosemary. Lavender. The fragrance of blossoms and herbs. And then…

‘I’m not sure,’ she said at last. ‘But I think just before I was attacked, I noticed a strange scent. Something very sweet, musky. Like a perfume. That’s really all I can think of.’

‘Thank you, Hermione.’ Minerva gave her a tight-lipped smile.

With a sigh, Hermione plopped down on her seat again. When Severus shoved her glass of butterbeer into her hand, she smiled gratefully. The current version of his scowl seemed to indicate concern, rather than bad temper.

‘Severus—what do you make of that incident?’

Hermione watched how Severus took the floor. Still agitated, he needed room to pace. The Order was in for a show.

‘When I arrived in the rose garden, Hermione was already unconscious. An Inferius had her at the throat and was trying to strangle her.’

Involuntarily, Hermione’s fingers went to her neck.

‘I didn’t recognise him at once. Only when he let Hermione go and came for me, I saw that it was Colin Creevey. The most remarkable thing about him was that he was talking. Alternately ranting and raving nearly incoherent insults and showing remarkable lucidity, like flash-backs of his dead personality.’

‘But that’s impossible!’ Ron interrupted. ‘Inferi can’t talk. And they are mindless creatures. Everyone knows that.’