Harry and the twins were kicked off the Quidditch team, Hagrid returned bruised and ran into an inspection by Umbridge, and most importantly, Harry finally had the dream about Nagini's attack, so he and all the Weasleys were transferred by Floo to Grimmauld Place without waiting for the end of the semester. I wasn't a witness to any of these events, learning about what happened after the fact.
During Christmas holidays, I'll be living with the Bones family while taking exams, and then Amelia will help me transfer by Portkey to the French Ministry of Magic. In Dijon, I plan to submit documents to medical school. They should review my application within three months.
Susan and I didn't take the train - stepping into the Hogwarts Express compartment, we transported to her home by Portkey. For the first time, I celebrated not Christmas, but Yule, with gifts of magic. We burned a Yule log decorated with holly, taking turns pouring ale over it and throwing handfuls of flour into the fire. At some point, magic swirled up in golden sparks that settled on the ritual participants and furniture, slowly melting away. The holiday left a feeling of delight and a tingling of magic in my fingertips. I'll celebrate this way every year now. I should try it with my parents too - I have the feeling they poured a double supply of energy and strength into me. Maybe it works for Muggles too. I asked Aunt Amelia about this. She confirmed that Muggles used to celebrate Yule too, and possibly, they might partially experience similar feelings.
I did well on my exams, although in the final school years, studying stopped being an absolute breeze - I have to make an effort and learn some things anew, and some things for the first time.
During breaks between exams, I went to an Apparition lesson at the Ministry. I've already reached the age when you can Apparate without risking burning out your core from overexertion. But at school, Apparition is only taught in sixth year. The training is paid - twelve Galleons for schoolchildren, but it cost me fifteen because I separated from the group. At the Ministry lesson, there were only eleven of us. They gave us brief theory that fit into five minutes and suggested we practice. I spent fifteen minutes on my first Apparition, ten of which I spent convincing myself that nothing terrible would happen and there wouldn't be any splinching. Children probably have it easier in this regard. At least in sports with complex jumps, this rule works - children are less afraid than adults. It worked. All of me remained with me. I spent the remaining forty minutes of the lesson practicing, jumping to points indicated by the instructor. For the final jump, they took me to another room and told me to jump to the classroom we came from - to learn to do it blind. The anti-Apparition barrier has been locally removed from these two Ministry rooms, and you can only Apparate between them - you can't jump out of the Ministry from here. This is convenient, otherwise a student might be carried off to unknown distances - try finding them then. Or from inexperience, they might transport into a wall and die. But here there's protection from that. They gave me a paper saying I completed the training, but I can only get a license after coming of age. I spent an hour and a half total, including travel time. Moving yourself is much more pleasant than being a passenger with someone. The others in our group also succeeded. The other ten people were adults who for some reason hadn't completed training at school. Perhaps people didn't have the spare twelve Galleons at the time - not such small money.
In France, I successfully submitted documents to university, and we spent the rest of the holidays with my parents just relaxing. Before parting, I asked Dad to talk to Amelia through parchment about her safety. She listens to my father, ever since that old conversation about Muggle methods of criminal investigation. Let him remind her that her position is one of the key ones, and that enemies will want to see someone less principled and dangerous to themselves in it. She needs guards, emergency Portkeys that can break through medium anti-Apparition barriers, and all that sort of thing. I don't want Aunt Amelia to die - she's a good person. Unfortunately, she definitely won't leave the front lines, so we can only hope she'll worry more about safety in general. The Portkey transferred me to England right before the Hogwarts Express departure. I barely had time to get from the transfer point to the station on the Knight Bus.
***
Unfortunately, the blessed time when I was needed by no one has ended. One far from beautiful day, Dumbledore summoned me. I remember how everything turned out last time, but I still go to Professor Sprout. However, I don't manage to reach her - on the way I meet our starry-eyed grandfather - because he's in a star-patterned robe of acid colors again.
"Good evening, Miss Granger. I thought I'd find you here," Dumbledore smiles with the look of a man who's shown a successful trick.
"Good evening, Headmaster."
"Miss Granger, I understand your desire to spend time in the company of dear Pomona - a most wonderful woman, and how she cares for her badgers! But I venture to suggest that today you yourself would prefer to speak with me privately."
"What did you want to talk to me about, Headmaster?"
"I have a task for you, very secret. Come, Miss Granger, I'll explain everything to you," the headmaster takes my arm and leads me toward his tower, chatting about various trifles along the way. I remember Amelia's words about not allowing open confrontation, and obediently go with the headmaster.
In the tower, Dumbledore, as in the previous two times, brews tea, pushes a bowl of lemon drops toward me - in my opinion, it's ordinary marmalade. And gets down to business:
"You know, my dear girl, that Harry is having a difficult time now?"
"Yes, of course... Headmaster Dumbledore, can't anything be done about Professor Umbridge's punishment methods? It's real sadism!"
"Alas, my dear, even I can't do everything," Dumbledore sympathetically spreads his hands, as if to say, I'd be glad to help, but...
"That's very sad," I say sadly.
"But you can help Harry, Hermione," the headmaster says penetratingly.
"I doubt it, sir, because if even you can't help him, I certainly can't do anything," and what are you trying to hang on me, you pest?
"Sometimes friends can do more with their advice and support than the most powerful person."
I would tell him where Harry has seen my advice, but that would be uncultured.
"Miss Granger, Harry now needs confidence in himself more than ever, he needs to feel like a leader. He needs to know that his friends believe in him and will follow him."
"Headmaster Dumbledore, but Harry's friends really do believe in him, I think he knows that. It's just that friends can't help him with Umbridge in any way."
"Oh, the desire to oppose Madam Umbridge can also be turned to one's advantage," the bearded schemer drawled mysteriously, "you don't have any DADA practice now, do you? And the kids are probably thinking about how they'll pass their O.W.L.s?"
No-no-no, Headmaster, I don't like where you're going at all.
But the headmaster didn't listen to my mental pleas and continued:
"Now it's more important than ever to unite. You and Harry will be able to help other children too, and Harry will finally feel like a leader. You just need to give him a little push toward the right decision, and then you may not even participate if you don't want to."
"Excuse me, sir, but I think it would be better if some adult united us. He could also prepare us. Both for O.W.L.s and for war..."
"In some ways you're right, Miss Granger. If, say, Professor Snape were teaching you," and he looks at me, expecting a reaction to the name, "you would learn more spells. But no professor can teach Harry to be a leader. So now he needs not an experienced mentor, but friendly advice. Not from an adult, but from a peer, his friend. And of course, a little help organizing classes."
This all seems like nonsense to me. If the headmaster really needs resistance in the school, he could have called Sirius to teach the children. Sirius would have gladly grabbed onto the game of secret organization. He still hasn't fully decided on his field of activity anyway. What can Harry teach? The Patronus? Stupefy? Expelliarmus? Yes, these are useful spells, but it's not enough. And Harry doesn't know how to monitor the safety of a large group.
"Why are you asking me and not Ron? After all, Ron is Harry's best friend, and Harry listens to him much more."
"Alas, my dear, Mr. Weasley is certainly a loyal friend," aha, especially if you remember the beginning of the tournament, "but he has problems with organization. His initiative here might cause more problems than benefits."
"Sorry, Headmaster, but I'm sure my initiative here won't lead to anything good either. Harry already has big problems with Professor Umbridge. If it gets even worse, who knows where that will lead."
"Oh, here you're wrong, Hermione. When Harry Potter finally gets down to business, he'll stop exploding at every provocation from Madam Umbridge. He'll know that he's secretly opposing her anyway."
What are you pushing the child toward, Headmaster? What nonsense? I don't want to participate in this.
"Sorry, Headmaster Dumbledore, but I really think this is a bad idea, and I don't want to participate in it," I voice my thoughts.
"Very sorry, my dear girl. But perhaps I can persuade you. However, let's change the subject for now and talk about something else?" Dumbledore smiles benevolently, "for example, about what happened in winter in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when you were in third year."
I think I forgot how to breathe... I've never been so scared. Even when that thing happened in third year, it wasn't such an all-consuming feeling of horror.
"Oh, well after such a reaction it's late to deny anything, my dear," the headmaster laughed good-naturedly, "let me warm up your tea, Miss Granger, you clearly need warming up, you're so pale..."
I mechanically take a big sip of tea, for the first time in the headmaster's office. Right now, I suppose, I don't care if there are any unaccounted additions there or not. I'm doomed either way.
"When the Bloody Baron reported to me about a dead man in the bathroom, and I found Peter, I was sure it was Sirius Black's doing," Dumbledore began his story while I stared stupidly into my cup, "criminals sometimes return to the scene of their crime, so I set up an alarm just in case. Good thing the bathroom is almost unused because of the capricious ghost who loves to spill water, so I didn't have to check the alarm every five minutes. The next day, Myrtle's bathroom was visited by only three people: Miss Ginny Weasley, Miss Penelope Clearwater, and you, Miss Granger. But no Sirius Black, to my disappointment. I decided I was unlucky and put this problem in the back burner."
Dumbledore told his story unhurriedly, sipping tea and snacking on lemon drops, while I sat thinking that I had lost. I'm in a cage. And I can't get out. Instead of panic, apathy descended.
"When Sirius was cleared, I didn't immediately manage to have a heart-to-heart talk with him. Sirius was offended at me," Dumbledore somehow bewilderedly spread his hands, as if to say, what's to be offended about? "and only after several months did we discuss everything. I was extremely surprised when it turned out he wasn't involved in Peter Pettigrew's murder and knew nothing about it. However, this news made him incredibly happy," Dumbledore smiled paternally.
"But who then killed Pettigrew? I had to review the dinner on the day of the murder in the Pensieve. Several people were late for dinner that day, including you, Miss Granger, and only you were extremely pale and agitated, though you tried to hide it. I'm sure your friends didn't suspect anything, but if you're looking specifically... You finally gave yourself away only today, when you got scared in response to my innocent remark. Even your lips went pale," Dumbledore finished his story, "perhaps you'll tell me your story? Believe me, dear, if you tell me the truth, your soul will feel lighter."
Yeah, and physically it will get heavier. I take a deep breath, trying to regain the ability to speak.
"H-He-Headmaster! It was a rat! I... I didn't know that after death it would turn into a man! How could I have known? The transformation was a shock to me! I panicked, I didn't know what to do! The rat crawled into my bed, and I got scared, stunned it with Stupefy and carried it to the bathroom. How could I have known that after death the rat's corpse would turn into a human corpse?!" I'm almost shouting.
"Now, now, quieter, my dear girl, I believe you," Dumbledore squinted to the side for half a second, and I saw the familiar pyramid, "Peter Pettigrew deserved the Dementor's Kiss anyway. However, the fact that you're capable of murder, even of a rat..."
This is a strange approach. Most people are capable of killing a rat - historically rats are considered pests, they've always been killed. And teenagers living in villages are also capable of killing a rabbit, chicken, sometimes even a pig... But I can't bring myself to say this out loud. After all, my problem is that the first interrogation with Veritaserum will reveal everything - I knew it wasn't a rat. I'm still sitting, staring into my cup.
"I very much hope, Miss Granger, that in the future you won't have to face such a situation again," Dumbledore smiles with the wise smile of a forgiving elder, "But now please forgive me, I got completely carried away talking with you and forgot about other matters. Allow me to recommend this wonderful book by Dilys Derwent for your reading," the headmaster hands me a weighty volume, "perhaps she best managed to describe the general principles of treatment after various combat spells. You are interested in healing magic and, according to Madam Pomfrey, making progress."
Dumbledore gets up and politely escorts me a few steps to the door, I walk like a sleepwalker, clutching the book to myself.
"And still think over my request, Hermione, after all Harry is a close friend to you, he needs your help," he says in parting.
There's echoing emptiness in my head, not a single thought, and I really want to sleep. Apparently, that was the carrot and stick. Though after such a stick, somehow I'm not really thinking about carrots...