o-o-o-o-o

Chapter 11 - Perspective

Hermione, as she slowly walked to the Great Hall for breakfast Thursday morning, tried to determine what, if anything, she'd learned. She paid a bare minimum of attention to navigating - it had only been three days, but even first-years of other Houses had learned the onus of avoiding collisions with students in blue-trimmed robes and an absent expression was on them.

When she had woken up in the hospital wing, she'd been somewhat surprised to discover that she had no trouble remembering everything from yesterday, the strange notes, the "memory" of Ollivander's, the disturbing glimpses "of the future". Or at least, she thought she had no trouble - she'd need to double-check her hurried notes to be sure. She'd tossed them out of the window in the hopes that her "uninvited guest" wouldn't be able to get to them under the watchful eye of Madam Wainscott. But the fact that she even remembered the notes existed in the first place suggested she hadn't been Obliviated. The potion, however, seemed to have been effective, as she remembered no dreams or additional "glimpses" (she refused to call them "visions", even to herself).

As soon as she'd dressed - her clothes and robes had been laundered and neatly folded, she'd discovered - she'd immediately gone out onto the grounds to check outside the window, but that part of her plan had worked as well - the notes were gone. Before tossing them out the window, aside from the Imperviuses in case of rain, she'd added a Reminder Charm in the hopes that the voice would attract the attention of someone outside, so if she had been Obliviated, there'd at least be someone who might be able to do something - the short personal note she'd added at the top had urged whoever found them to be cautious, to make a copy and give it to someone else before even attempting to talk to Hermione about it, and when they did to be subtle - if she seemed not to remember at all, they were to take her notes immediately to a Professor.

Of course, if that did happen, they might just discount it because of the hex misinformation, but she'd drawn specific attention in the notes to the Ollivander incident, which was past, rather than future, and wasn't as well-explained by some Cassandra-esque Confunding. They were, in any case, the best precautions she'd been able to come up with in the time she'd had. No one had attempted to contact her yet, even subtly, but that was equally plausible if whoever had found the notes was being cautious, or if they'd simply ignored or discarded them.

All this implied her guest had been either unable or unwilling to Obliviate her while she slept. Perhaps the potion had prevented her body from being borrowed, or Nurse Wainscott was too vigilant to risk it, or Hermione's precaution with the notes made Obliviating her too likely to be discovered, or it simply did not suit their plans, whatever they were.

It seemed, from a collection of things, that her guest had some concern for Hermione's welfare. Thinking back over the cryptic notes in her handwriting in that light, Hermione began to see a theory that might fit, though it was not one she enjoyed at all. Divination was one thing, but this…

The tenuous chain of reasoning started with a line that had gone something like, "I can feel myself slipping. It's hard to think clearly, even when she's asleep, without risking pushing Y.H. out completely." From the Library incident (and the existence of the notes in the first place), it appeared that Hermione's guest had more agency when Hermione was sleeping...which made a kind of sense, she supposed, if they were somehow sharing the same brain. Ignoring for the moment how impossible that was. But that made it likely the "she" in that line was Hermione herself. And though the notion gave her a shiver of dread to contemplate, the balance could be inferred that Y.H. was also her, and there wasn't enough room in her brain for both of them...and there was an ongoing risk that one or the other would be "pushed out".

But the context also implied that her guest didn't want that. That, along with other bits of the notes - expressing regret about Madam Pomfrey, talking about "saving people" - suggested rather strongly that her guest had morals at least similar to Hermione's, even if they weren't being terribly nice about trying to follow them.

Next there was the "commentary" on Hermione's "memory" of Ollivander's. It was a lot harder to remember the exact wording, as it hadn't been visual or even verbal, more like a memory of thinking. But it, too, implied that her guest had some concern for Hermione's welfare, hadn't wanted her to be Obliviated. And also that her guest, even then, was thinking in terms of changes and remembering.

Then there were the "glimpses", of apparent futures, the only common elements being something extremely unpleasant, and that they all featured an older version of herself. But if they hadn't come from some weird Confundus, where else could they have, other than her guest? Again, if they were sharing the same brain, even if direct communication might not be possible, it didn't seem implausible that there might be some "leakage" in either direction.

All of which added up to a conclusion that, even tenuous as it was, Hermione would've called obvious, if it hadn't been so blatantly impossible. There had been nothing in her reading that suggested such a thing was magically plausible. But, aside from insanity, it was the only solution that seemed to fit. Even Madam Wainscott's attempts to detect Hermione's guest fit - she'd said, "there's nothing in your head that didn't originate from your own mind", and Hermione stressed the last bit in her head as she recalled it. If she wasn't Confunded, how could her mind be her own, and yet not, at the same time?

Her guest was herself. But a later version, "Older Hermione". And from her perspective, Hermione would of course be "Younger Hermione"...Y.H.

Which, if she accepted the impossible theory as true for the moment, meant Hermione had to reconsider all of her decisions in light of the fact that an older, more experienced version of herself thought it was for the best that Hermione didn't tell anyone about any of this, even very experienced, responsible Professors. And then Hermione had written everything down and tossed it out a window in the specific hope that a random person would pick it up and read it.

The term "embarrassment" didn't really cover it.

The only things keeping her from falling into an oscillating spiral of self-beratement and gibbering panic were that she wasn't sure she was right about this, and even if she was, her guest didn't seem to know what was going to happen, she just expected it to be dangerous, bad, or both. But even the latter was in the context that O.H. seemed surprised about what specifically had happened, but not about the fact that it involved some form of time travel.

Hermione was broken from her introspection not by the sound of breakfast in the Great Hall, which she'd anticipated, but by the change in the sound as she entered, not dropping in volume exactly, but lowering in tone. She looked up, and saw that at least a third of the students were looking at her, not just a casual glance at someone entering, but watching, while they talked to adjacent students.

Even while her heart fluttered from the unwanted attention and whatever it implied, Hermione steadfastly ignored it and walked directly to an open seat at the Ravenclaw table. She could just immediately ask what all this was about, but this was the Ravenclaw table, which meant all she had to do was count to-

"So what was the-"

"Who actually-"

"Do you remember-"

Hermione couldn't properly make out all the words as several of her housemates began asking different questions simultaneously, before her mental count had even reached "one". She held up one hand peremptorily and used the other to select a croissant and a couple other bland items she thought her churning stomach could tolerate.

"One at a time, please," she said. "Mandy?" she prompted, nodding at one of her interrogators.

"Do you have any idea who hexed you?" the girl asked, a little breathlessly. Hermione considered her answer, but decided to leave things as they were for the moment.

"No. I don't even remember it happening." It was technically true, anyway. Hermione picked up an unused glass and gestured it towards Anthony to go next, then began to pour herself some water. He paused for a moment, probably mentally adjusting to the new information that Hermione didn't remember it happening, which rather limited the scope of useful questions.

"The Nurse let you go, so you must be okay now, but you were in the hospital wing, so it had to be bad...what was it exactly?" Hermione, again, wasn't sure how to answer that.

"Why don't you tell me everything you - and everyone, apparently - does know about this, and also how you know it, and then I'll be better able to fill in the blanks?" 'Able to' doesn't technically mean 'willing', she thought, and suddenly recalled Tonks' grinning face on the Hogwarts Express. But before she could smile, the memory was just as quickly replaced by an image of the Hufflepuff's body, ashen and still, and Hermione's mouth twisted instead, in synchrony with her stomach. Anthony hesitated, perhaps taken aback by her expression, but Marietta, a few places further down, stepped in efficiently.

"Professor Dumbledore made an announcement at dinner last night. He said that a first-year had apparently been the victim of a very powerful hex, and that while the hex was not, strictly speaking, Dark, ah, 'such an egregious and inappropriate misuse of magic will not be tolerated' - he can look quite stern if he wants to, you know. Then he said the Professors would be making pointed inquiries, but if the 'offending party' chose to come forward privately, before they were identified, it would weigh in their favor..." Hermione was gratified to learn that the staff would take some infractions seriously, though she felt bad about Professors possibly wasting their time searching for a culprit that did not exist.

"That was about it," Marietta continued. "He didn't say who had been hexed, but there were only a few people missing from dinner, and the only one who didn't turn up after was you, so Q.E.D."

"Not really," objected Penelope Clearwater faintly, from three times further down the table. "There's nothing that says even a powerful hex had to cause an overnight stay in the hospital wing - the victim might've already recovered and actually been at dinner." That end of the table devolved into a heated debate on induction vs. deduction, quickly moving rather beyond the immediate matter at hand. All the first-years still waited expectantly for Hermione to elaborate.

She chewed slowly to give herself more time while she thought. Hermione didn't want to lie, or even withhold information, particularly after (mostly) resolving the whole Transfiguration secret-keeping drama. And if it had been someone at the Ravenclaw table who'd found her notes, they'd know she wasn't being honest. But if her guest's apparent concerns were valid, she might not be doing anyone who heard any favours, depending of course on what exactly the problems with time travel were.

"I was in the Library, and I felt strangely tired, and the next time I was awake I was in the hospital wing. I don't remember anyone hexing me, but Nurse Wainscott believes a hex made me confused, and also see things that weren't true. But before you ask, no, I'm not going to say what I saw, because if they're not true they don't matter, and she specifically said I shouldn't even think about them." All true, and yet so misleading and incomplete that Hermione felt dirty, like she'd cheated on an exam, or something equally unthinkable. Still, even if it likely hadn't really satisfied anyone's curiosity, it seemed to have forestalled further questions on the topic - everyone went back to eating and random conversation. With one exception.

"All this is impressively distracting, but don't think we won't remember tae ask Professor McGonagall in class this afternoon about what ye claimed," said Morag, quietly. For what seemed like the dozenth time, Hermione wondered why the other girl seemed so eager to challenge her at every opportunity. She considered just asking, but decided to wait - it didn't seem likely to help the situation while Morag still thought she had a valid grievance, and the next Transfiguration class would finally clear that up at least. In the end, she just sighed, and nodded.

Morag nodded as well, with a grimly satisfied smile.

o-o-o

All the first-years had a free period Thursday after breakfast, and Ravenclaws the period before lunch as well. Most wandered away from the Great Hall towards their respective common rooms, or just off to explore the castle a bit more. A few headed towards the Library to actually study, or finish up any coursework - most students and even Professors still called it 'homework' at Hogwarts, even though no one went home to do it, excepting holidays.

Hermione was left trying to figure out a good way of communicating with her guest. Obviously she was able to write - and even speak, based on what Nurse Wainscott had said - while Hermione was asleep. So simple parchment, or alternating Reminder Charms if they wanted to be careful and avoid leaving evidence, would seem to suit. But her older self had to know that too, and she hadn't communicated, or at least not deliberately. Maybe now that Hermione had learned so much anyway, things would be different? But even if it were, it would be like having a pen-pal, only exchanging one "letter" each night, which wasn't very efficient, and her guest's notes had implied their time 'together' might be short, one way or another.

She knew from very recent personal experience that magical sleep was possible in at least two different forms - if she could find one that was reliably of short duration, they might be able to have a reasonably efficient conversation. Assuming, again, that her guest was willing now, when she hadn't been before…

Hermione made her way back to the hospital wing. When she arrived, she found the nurse dictating inventory, to a quill that was apparently both Self-Inking and Self-Writing, as it was dancing across a nearby scroll in response to her words.

"Madam Wainscott?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Miss Granger, I didn't expect you back so soon, are you- no, cancel, cancel!" Her concerned greeting to Hermione was cut off as she realized her quill was continuing to transcribe, and turned to address it instead, until it stopped. "Sorry, these things are never as smart as you'd like them to be, are they? Are you feeling any additional ill effects, I was going to ask?" Hermione shook her head.

"No, my stomach was a bit upset at breakfast, but I think that's to be expected with all that's been going on. And I should thank you again for the potion, I think that's the best night's sleep I've had since school started. In fact, that is actually why I came." The Matron (or perhaps Acting Matron? The Headmaster had said she was taking over Madam Pomfrey's duties, but not specifically her title...) gave a little frown.

"I'm sorry, but the potion I administered yesterday is to be used sparingly, for emergencies only. It isn't safe for repeated use." Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"Oh? I still haven't had Potions yet, but I hadn't read anything about cumulative toxicity…" The nurse blinked.

"It's not that...it's that, well, whether you remember them upon waking or not, dreams are necessary for healthy sleep. A sustained lack of dreams can cause poor health, or even forms of madness, eventually."

"Oh, right, I actually knew that, it just hadn't occurred to me." Now it was Madam Wainscott's turn to raise her eyebrows. "I read it in a muggle book - they actually know a fair bit about biology and medicine...they rather have to, since they don't have magic," Hermione explained, somewhat pointedly. The comment didn't seem to make the woman less skeptical. "But anyway, so it's not magical sleep itself that's dangerous, it's just dreamless sleep? Are there other convenient ways of promoting normal sleep, or even causing a quick nap? I do have diagnosed insomnia, I could try to get my parents to owl back a note from my doctor, I suppose, if you need some sort of verification…"

"Oh, you poor child, on top of everything? Well, there are lesser sleeping draughts, and a variety of Charms, of course, though those are probably a bit beyond what a first year can manage. I suppose I could brew up a small supply of Liquid Sheep for you, though you'd need to follow my dosing instructions precisely - it wouldn't do to have you waking up in the middle of the night, or sleeping straight through to Christmas. Come back either right after dinner, or after tonight's...gathering. I'll have some ready for you by then." Hermione felt a bit awful about the nurse's obvious compassion, given that she was misrepresenting herself. And also that the woman was expected to just carry on with her work, even with Madam Pomfrey's memorial tonight - Hermione assumed they'd been reasonably close, working together and all. But as far as sleep aids went, she did have diagnosed insomnia, so it wasn't exactly a lie, she just wasn't mentioning that she explicitly planned on subverting the dosing instructions for her own purposes.

"Thank you," she said, sincerely, but not nodding, since that technically might've counted as promising to follow the dosing properly. "...any means to achieve their ends…" came, unbidden, an echo of the Sorting Hat's song through her head. Shut up. That whole 'technically' thing came from a Hufflepuff, you know, so you can take your weird anti-Slytherin propaganda and foist it on someone else. And besides, this is extremely important. Hermione didn't actually think she was having a conversation with the Sorting Hat, though for a disturbing moment, it occurred to Hermione to wonder if the demonstrably telepathic artifact actually could use that ability at a distance? But after a tense moment of hesitation, no further mental intrusions presented themselves, exogenous or otherwise.

"I'll see you tonight, then," Hermione said quickly, after realizing she'd just been standing there and Madam Wainscott was starting to look at her oddly. She hurried off towards the Library.

o-o-o

Several hours later, Hermione's stomach felt no better than it had at breakfast as she quickly made her way to the Defence classroom. She'd had to add Time Travel (and Prophecy, just in case) and Sleep Charms, and Possession to the top of her List, and some of what she'd managed to learn had been exceedingly disquieting.

Prophecy, it seemed, was almost exclusively the province of Seers, who were apparently naturally gifted with their abilities (rather than as the result of any kind of dedicated study, which vaguely offended Hermione) via no obvious cause, though heredity was believed partially responsible. But it also seemed clear that a Seer never seemed to remember their own Prophecies, at least not true ones - they were more of a channel for information than a repository, as it were. Though there wasn't any useful information about the other end of that channel - most writers seemed to simply take it for granted that the Seer was drawing information through themselves rather than receiving something sent.

Time, Hermione had been surprised to discover, was mentioned, though never in a practical sense. It tended to come up in discussions of extreme magical mishaps - apparently people had been erased from Time (and yet somehow in a way that it was apparent it had happened). But the details were never discussed in depth because it was - and this was invariably mentioned alongside such references - due to various overlapping laws, more than 100% illegal to research Time magic, at least outside the Department of Mysteries. Aptly, what went on in there was left entirely mysterious - the people who worked there were literally called Unspeakables, Hermione had learned, with some unease.

But this directly implied that Time Travel was possible, or they wouldn't have made it illegal. And obviously dangerous, by the same reasoning. And yet before even coming to Hogwarts, Hermione had purchased and memorized the most current edition of the Legislative Guide to the Proper Use of Magic, and she certainly would've taken note of the possibility of Time Travel (as she had of the possibility of developing the ability to turn into a particular animal at will, which sounded delightful, but also difficult and dangerous beyond the practical benefits). But Hermione, despite her general confidence about things she'd read, always left room for fallibility on her part, so she'd dutifully pulled out her copy of the Guide, and double-checked.

Sure enough, there were a great many relevant statutes, nearly all of which carried mandatory terms in Azkaban, and Hermione had no idea how she'd missed that on her multiple readings. At least until she read a footnote noting that all published references to Time magic (including the entire relevant section of laws) were "Conditionally Obscured", such that to anyone who was not already aware of the existence of Time magic, the words appeared to be innocuous and redundant references to other material. The very concept of a spell which prohibited you from learning something unless you'd already learned it was just...just...it was similar to her feelings about Obliviation, honestly.

Even telling someone about the existence of Time magic without explicit written authorization from the Ministry was also illegal. Which had struck Hermione as being an extreme level of caution, to the point of possibly being self-defeating - what if someone independently discovered Time magic and then innocently (because they'd had no way to know they oughtn't to) went about developing it? But no, there were in fact regulations for spell researchers to explicitly, physically consult a current copy of the Guide before starting major projects and after any novel discovery. On top of all of that, all the relevant laws and regulations, like the Secrecy ones, were International Statutes, shared world-wide through a binding treaty of the International Confederation of Wizards. All in all, magical society had been terribly thorough and gone to tremendous effort, and it was certainly a strong implication about the dangers involved.

There had even been - but only in the laws restricting their use - mention of "approved" forms of Time magic. There were only two of them - which were really only one...apparently there was something called an Hour-Reversal Charm, which allowed a witch to travel physically back in Time one hour. But enchanted devices for producing the same effect were considered much safer, since the Charm was fiendishly difficult and unstable when cast manually. Even so, it was illegal to use the Charm or the devices, even in emergencies, for any purpose other than ones explicitly and individually authorized in writing by the Ministry on a case-by-case basis. It was illegal to attempt, by any combination of Reversals, to produce written works ex nihilo, to act upon any information gained therein prior to a point at which it could not have demonstrably been obtained otherwise without a Reversal, to attempt to cause any event or series of events to unfold in a manner other than what was previously observed to have happened, or to attempt to extend, suborn or otherwise bypass the Charm's inherent maximum scope of five hours.

At this point, Hermione was almost reconsidering her extremely poor opinions of Obliviation, as a practice. Technically, at this very moment, Hermione was breaking at least one law, simply because she had learned about Time magic through an unofficial channel, and wasn't immediately contacting "an authorized official of the Department of Mysteries". Plus there was the whole matter of her notes, which didn't explicitly mention Time Travel, but from the information in which she had eventually deduced it, so someone else might too, and she wasn't sure if that would count as her having told someone else. She tried to act as responsibly as she could on a daily basis, but she wasn't even twelve yet, these were unreasonably serious things for her to have to be involved in, and she considered it a matter of character to be very careful to obey all rules, let alone laws.

And though it was sort of overshadowed by the whole breaking international law matter, and possibly erasing people from existence, there was also what the Headmaster had apparently said, about the staff investigating her 'hexing'. It was probably a waste of their valuable time, or worse, if they mistakenly identified someone, and that person was punished, it'd be grossly unfair, which meant it wasn't just legally wrong for Hermione to remain silent, but to some degree morally wrong in an absolute sense. Though perhaps not ethically, if she ended up causing more harm by coming forward than she prevented by doing otherwise…

When Hermione arrived in the Defence classroom and took a seat mere seconds before third period began, to say she was agitated would be a considerable understatement. A number of students were looking at her oddly, and Padma actually leaned close.

"Are you entirely well? You look like you're going to sick up," she whispered. Hermione hadn't realized her inner turmoil was so outwardly visible, and made an effort to calm herself.

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione whispered back.

"Are you sure? If you need to go back to the hospital wing, I can share my Defence notes with you later…" Which was probably the nicest offer a fellow student had ever made to her in her life. In her current state, an impulse of nearly desperate gratitude almost made Hermione want to take her up on it, but the Nurse wouldn't be able to help her with the actual problem until much later anyway, and stewing in the hospital wing might not be as helpful as distracting herself by actually learning things.

"Yes, I'm sure, but thank you, truly."

"Students!" came a surprisingly loud call from the front of the room. Many of the students who hadn't been paying attention, Hermione and Padma included, startled visibly. Professor Quirrell, as if taken aback by the reaction, lowered his voice excessively, to the point where it was necessary to strain to hear him.

"It..I have...that is, it has...been brought to my attention, that some s-s-students may be casting genuinely harmful magics on each other, for..ah...for s-sport? I have...some have said...I have heard that some say my c-classes have not included enough practical Defence, which isn't very fair since I'd only h-h-held two or three classes for any given s-s-student, and…" He continued speaking in a mutter too low to be made out, until one of the students near the front coughed loudly, causing the Professor to startle, once again as if surprised to discover he was in class.

"Accordingly," he said, and winced as he'd been much too loud again. He settled into a more reasonable speaking volume. "Accordingly, I will b-be adding additional instruction to the s-standard M-m-ministry curriculum. Unfortunately, there isn't m-much that first years can be taught without a solid f-f-foundation in Charms, but I shall d-do my best, starting with two spells that are the simplest c-c-counter-curses for a w-wide variety of lesser c-curses and j-j-jinxes - the Unlocking Spell, and the General C-c-counter-Curse. These spells are n-not normally taught until your s-s-second year, and you w-will not be required to c-c-cast them for your f-final exams...but I w-will mark you on effort during class." There was a general sigh of relief from nearly everyone but Hermione, who had already successfully cast both from her Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 - Finite in particular had seemed like an important thing to know straight off if one was determined to practice magic frequently without a Professor present...she'd seen Fantasia, after all.

The Professor demonstrated The General Counter-Curse (which Hermione thought somewhat poorly named, as the spell could actually cancel a broad class of magics, whether or not they were unpleasant) several times while the class followed along. After, he had everyone divide into pairs, with one student either lighting their wand - if they could manage it, otherwise the Professor provided something similar that made the whole student glow softly - and the other trying to snuff it with Finite Incantatem.

Professor Quirrell had, for reasons he had not explained, segregated the pairings by gender, but mixed them by house, so Hermione found herself facing Tracey Davis of Slytherin. Hermione frowned, and wondered if he somehow thought girls were somehow not matched with boys, though she hadn't encountered any overt signs of a lack of gender equality in magical society. Though for all she knew it was because he was acting on boys' obvious propensity towards distraction. Or perhaps it was a policy he'd decided for older students, and was just staying consistent?

"So, how do you want to proceed?" Hermione asked absently, her expression still somewhat dark. The girl got a very queer look on her face for a moment, almost afraid, but when Hermione's features began to show confusion, her own expression suddenly cleared.

"Oh, right, um...I'll do the light first," she said, sounding oddly relieved. She couldn't think of a good reason the girl would've thought Hermione was angry with her, but she didn't know much about her in general, aside from the fact that she found disfiguring Transfiguration effects and baby-eating monsters interesting. Perhaps she'd simply assumed that Hermione would assume that whoever had hexed her was a Slytherin, and that Hermione would be indiscriminate in her reaction? Which seemed ludicrous - it's not as if she were a Gryffindor - but then not everyone thought these things through. Tracey managed to get her wand lit on the third try.

Hermione took a moment to review the spell mentally, checking her previous memory against what the Professor had just demonstrated. Hannah's insight that their books might not be entirely up-to-date seemed particularly apt here, since she was not actually in second-year Charms, and thus Professor Flitwick would have had no reason to give her any errata for the S.B.S. Grade 2. But they seemed identical. In fact, it occurred to her that the Professor's stutter and physical ticks seemed to vanish entirely when he'd been demonstrating actual spellwork, which was curious. Though she supposed if that hadn't been the case, they couldn't have really taken him on as a Professor, could they? She supposed public speaking and magical skill might just draw upon entirely different mindsets. Hermione focused back on the task and gave her wand the proper thrusting jab, with a smooth back-and-forth half-twist throughout.

"Finite Incantatem!" Tracey's wand obediently went dark.

"Excellent, Miss G-granger, two p-points to Ravenclaw for being f-f-first out of the gate," called the Professor haltingly, from across the classroom. Many of the Slytherins (and Morag) gave her dark looks, and Hermione considered the possibility that they might have a point...it's not as if anyone else had even really had the opportunity to practice the spell at all, though they could have bought the Grade 2 book as well, as she had. But she wasn't sure asking the Professor to revoke the points, and her accompanying explanation, would actually make anyone feel much better about it. Tracey, for her part, just looked impressed, and maybe a little scared again. Hermione tried not to frown, and instead just lit her own wand and nodded for the Slytherin to take her turn.

"Finite Incantatem!" Nothing happened. Hermione squinted at the other girl's hand position and motioned for Tracey to try again. "Finite Inc-"she started again, cutting off when Hermione held up a hand.

"You're only doing a half-twist, not a back-and-forth half-twist...you've still got to end up wrist-down at the end, you see?" Hermione demonstrated, and again Tracey gave her a peculiar look, but she nodded and tried again.

"Finite Incantatem!" Hermione nodded encouragingly, though her wand remained brightly lit.

"Almost, the motions were fine, but more accent on the 'ta', this time?" Tracey reset herself, and tried once more.

"Finite Incantatem!" This time Hermione's wand flickered, then went out, and Tracey beamed. Her smile grew even wider when the Professor awarded a point to Slytherin for Tracey being the second to successfully cast the spell, though it quickly wilted as she looked around. Hermione wasn't sure why - though their expressions were curiously muted, at least the other Slytherins weren't glaring at her as they had at Hermione, and the Ravenclaws only looked determined rather than angry. She thought there might be a glitter in Pansy Parkinson's eyes, though - maybe there was some Slytherin social convention she wasn't aware of?

As Tracey relit her wand - on the first try this time - and they began to trade spells back and forth, Hermione decided to distract herself from one world-shaking problem by exploring what might be another, if subtler one.

"So, I have a question," she began, cautiously. Tracey seemed to react entirely out of proportion, her whole body visibly tensing up.

"Go ahead," she said, in a tone Hermione imagined was normally reserved for speaking to one's own headsman.

"It's nothing bad, or at least, nothing that's your fault," Hermione reassured her. Again that queer look. "I just, I've been thinking about Hogwarts and the Sorting, and I just wondered...what is it like, being in Slytherin?" Once again, the girl seemed to let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. But her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Why?" Hermione was very curious about Tracey's attitude, but didn't want to upset her further, so rather than addressing it, she considered carefully how to word her response.

"It had occurred to me that Sorting is a hard problem, and I wondered if the Hat ever makes mistakes. But it's also possible that there really isn't all that much difference between the Houses, in which case it wouldn't be such a big deal. But I only know a bit about what goes on in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, and none at all about Slytherin." While Tracey considered this, Hermione efficiently Finite'd the girl's light, then lit her own wand.

"It's...sort of like all of Hogwarts, with House points? Except every person has their own points, and you can't just look at the hourglasses to see how many there are, you have to guess based on how everyone else treats you. And people with more points than you can add points, and nearly everyone can take away points as long as someone else agrees with them - unless your parents are important and then maybe not - and it's not just schoolwork, it's every single thing you do or say or don't do or don't say." She'd lowered her voice conspiratorially - with a furtive glance towards Draco Malfoy when she'd mentioned 'parents' - and was somewhat out of breath at the finish, the words having poured out of her in a rush.

Hermione's mouth opened in horror, and then a little less horror as she realized this was actually an apt description of her own school experience prior to Hogwarts - if perhaps with a bit of additional classist prejudice added in - and then more horror again as she imagined what it would have been like to not be able to retreat to her own home, her own room, but instead to live like that, all the time. What would someone have to be like to come out of seven years of that not mad? And again, while according to popular reference more didn't than all the other Houses combined, the vast majority of them nevertheless did come out apparently sane, non-evil, non-Dark-Lords.

In that light, maybe the Hat's description of Slytherin was a more subtle test. Because you'd have to put up with a lot more to get along in that House - being called cunning or even ruthless was the mildest possible taste of what awaited you. But that still left the most fundamental question.

"Why?" Hermione breathed. Tracey gave her a long, thoughtful look, then shrugged.

"Why anything? I don't know, I've only really been a Slytherin for four days. But supposedly the Founders told the Hat to look for stuff they thought was important. I guess that Salazar must have decided that, even if students were miserable, or even went Dark...he wanted people who made it all the way through the House with his name, to be strong. To be survivors. Because you'd have to be, right?" They'd already been speaking softly, but the last words came out nearly inaudibly. She stared down at her wand, and Hermione felt such a swell of sympathy for the girl that she wanted to hug her, or hold her hand, or something.

But Hermione hadn't even taken a step forward, had barely shifted her weight, when Tracey's head snapped up and all of her earlier trepidation and uncertainty seemed to be replaced by firm, cold resolve.

"FINITE INCANTATEM!" she snapped, her pronunciation and wand motions perfect, and Hermione's wand light went out instantly, sending a sharp tingle into her hand and halfway down her arm. Hermione was literally taken aback, shuffling backwards a couple steps, so shocked was she at the Slytherin's abrupt emotional about-face.

"I...I'm sorry if I something I said…" she began, but Tracey just shook her head and lit her wand, waiting expectantly, her face carefully neutral.

They spent the rest of the class in silence that was broken only to exchange flawless incantations. The tension was obvious to the rest of their classmates - and the Professor - but no one chose to comment on it at that particular moment, or at least not in earshot of them.

o-o-o

When Professor Quirrell dismissed them, Hermione had intended to try to catch Tracey privately on their way to Transfiguration to attempt another apology and find out exactly what she'd done to so obviously upset the girl. But the Slytherin was first out the door, and once into the corridor, Hermione found her own way blocked.

"I need a word with you, Granger," said Theodore Nott, his thin frame somehow positioned perfectly so everyone else could pass by but Hermione couldn't quite join the flow to get around him.

"Excuse me...Mister Nott, I'd be happy to speak with you some other time, but right now-" she began, testily.

"Oh, I think you need to hear what I have to say...won't take long," he said, oozing confidence. At a small rustling sound, Hermione lowered her gaze from where she'd been looking slightly up into his eyes and saw he was holding several sheets of paper, folded neatly into quarters.

o-o-o-o-o

A/N: Hopefully the juicy bits at the end make up for all those crunchy wads of exposition up front. ;)

Edit: Thanks to /u/MonstrousBird for the brit-pick on "public" school meaning the exact opposite of what a bewildered American would expect!