At Our Best and at Our Worst

"I want the essay for Saturn finished for class in two weeks," Professor Sinistra told them as they packed up after Astronomy. "After we're finished on Saturn, we're going to move on to Jupiter."

Hermione collapsed her telescope and dropped it in her pack. On her way out, she glanced up at the stars. They blanketed the sky in a dazzling display of white. People pushed past her as she stood and stared.

They see us at our best and at our worst.

Hermione blinked a tear away. Her mind drifted back to the times she and Rose would watch the stars while camping. Neither of them needed much sleep; just the two of them, staring up at the top of world.

"Ms. Granger, while I don't discourage stargazing, I'd think you'd rather like to return to your room and rest."

Hermione jumped and looked at Professor Sinistra.

"Sorry, Professor."

"You've nothing to apologize for," Sinistra replied with a smile. "I'm… I'm sure you've heard this plenty, but I am sorry about Ms. Peta-Lorrum. Even if she did glare at me for no reason."

A smile found its way to Hermione's face.

"Right, she did."

Professor Sinistra scowled at her. "I fail to see the humor in it."

Hermione covered her mouth as she fought to get herself under control. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's just… I asked her about it once, and she never realized she was doing it."

"I'm pretty sure I heard her growling at me once," Sinistra said. "How in the world did she not realize she was doing that?"

"It's not you," Hermione said. "It's…" Hermione's voice trailed off when she realized what the reason really was. She'd almost forgotten about it.

"Yes?" Professor Sinistra asked. "I'd quite like to know about it."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to gather a coherent story of Rose's world.

"There was… there was this woman in… this woman Rose knew called Aurora Lux. She came off as a friend at first, but she stabbed Rose's brother and his friends in the back and left them for dead."

Professor Sinistra nodded slowly, wrapping her head around Hermione's words.

"So you think she was glaring at me because my first name is Aurora?"

"She wasn't glaring at you, just sort of… at the memory of what Aurora did." Hermione paused for a moment, then decided it was okay to continue. "See, Aurora didn't just stab her brother in the back, but convinced her brother and his friends to abandon Rose's friend Shadow. Erm…" Hermione struggled to find a way to explain Rose's relationship with Shadow. "Basically, if Rose had a choice of saving me or Shadow, she'd probably save Shadow and leave me to die. That's how much she cared about her, and Aurora made Shadow cry."

Sinistra nodded again, evidently more understanding of that statement than the last.

"I take it this Lux woman is now dead?"

That one was easy to remember; Rose whined about it every time the topic of "the vengeful jato�� came up.

"No, she's alive, but only because Rose's friend Carolina was there to stop her. Think Professor McGonagall, but with the same saintly attitude as Sally-Anne; that's basically Carolina."

Sinistra's eyes went wide for just a moment.

"On that note, I think it best that you get back to your room," Sinistra said. "Thank you, Ms. Granger, for telling me all this."

"You're welcome, Professor," Hermione replied. "Have a good night."

"Same to you."

"You will not be learning to fight back, but how to defend yourself," Professor Snape said. "There will be homework, tests, and theory in this class. If I decide I'm wasting my time, then these lessons will stop immediately. I will be using spells on you, in order to build up a resistance to them. You may find my methods unfair, immoral, or illegal, but I will remind you both that you are here by choice. If you like, you may go complain to Dumbledore and prove that neither of you deserve a seat at the grownup table."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was scribbling down everything Professor Snape said without looking at her paper. Harry didn't know how she managed it, especially with her hand still in the shape it was.

"Among other topics, we will be covering the Unforgivable Curses, Legilimency and Occlumency, Inferi, Dementors, and dueling. I will be using all manner of curses, charms, and hexes on both of you. If you're not ready, you will suffer the consequences."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "On us?"

Snape drew his wand and fired an orange bolt at Harry. Harry had his wand out in a second, but hesitated when he couldn't think of a spell to block it. The only word that came into his head was strada, but he knew that was just the Shield Rune's incantation.

The bolt stopped midway to him, then dispersed into hundreds of tiny orange stars.

Harry frowned at the dissipating stars. He'd had never seen a spell do that before. Was it supposed to do that?

He glanced at Hermione, then stared at her when she saw her with her right hand out, and her left hand to her head.

"Neat trick, Granger," Snape said. "Care to explain to Potter what you just did?"

Hermione wiped sweat from her brow. "Disassembled the spell in mid-flight."

"And what spell did I cast?"

"Stinging Hex."

"Good." Glaring at Harry, he added, "at least someone pays attention in my class." He loomed over Harry, then crouched down to put himself closer to Harry's face. "Remember, Potter, you will pay attention in my class. Failure to do so will give me another chance to teach you how to resist dark magic, and you will learn."

He returned to the front of the classroom. "We'll begin on something easy so Potter can keep up."

Later that evening, Neville made his way to the library. He glanced at the part of the library where the secret passage to Hogsmeade lay, having a momentary flash of himself nearly crushed by rocks, then walked up to the main desk.

"I'm looking for–"

"Ms. Lovegood has made a nest for herself over there," Madame Pince said. Without looking up from her work, she pointed to a section of the library not far from the secret passage.

"Thank you," Neville whispered.

Neville walked over to the section Pince had indicated. Sure enough, he found Luna, and what Pince had meant by "nest". Luna had surrounded herself with papers and books. At least four books were open, and a dozen more were in various stacks. Every so often, she'd write something in a notebook on her lap.

"Hey, Luna," he whispered.

Luna didn't stop writing at first. It'd been a common occurrence as of late. The girl that would talk at length about anything apart from herself would often become so focused on her work, she'd block out everyone else. He still didn't know why; all he'd get from her was "Daddy does that sometimes too."

Neville waited until she jabbed the paper with her pencil (which itself was a late birthday present from Hermione), indicating that she'd finished the sentence.

"Salutations, Toad," Luna said. "I think we might be on to something."

"Really?" Neville asked, shock more apparent in his voice than he would've liked. He took a seat next to her and glanced at the books she was reading. One had a picture of a bunch of men in fancy robes, another had a labeled diagram of garlic.

"They haven't used garlic in the Ministry's food in 20 years," Luna said. She pointed at the picture of the men. "The last time they used it in anything was the day of their Christmas party in 1975." She turned the page to a different set of men. "In 1976, much of the staff changed, and they stopped using it for the party. Then, in 1980, they stopped serving it at all."

Neville looked at the picture again, then at Luna. She smiled at him, looking awfully proud of herself.

"That can't be a coincidence," Neville said. "Although, some people just don't like garlic."

Luna tilted her head, sending her long, scraggly hair tumbling to the side. "Really? Why not?"

Neville shrugged. "Beats me. It tastes great when Gran adds it to her spaghetti sauce."

"And it wards off vampires."

"And it wards off vampires."

Neville grabbed a book from one of Luna's stacks. He began flipping through, trying to see Luna's goal.

"That's a history of the DMLE," Luna said.

"Didn't you say they'd been infiltrated by some organization?" he asked.

"The Rotfang Conspiracy." She placed her book in one of the piles and grabbed another one.

Neville leafed through his own book. He didn't know what he was looking for; evidence that the DMLE was in on it?

"Hold on," he said, spotting something of significance. "That's the spice shop in Diagon Alley."

Luna climbed over her nest and peered at the book upside down. Her eyes scanned the page. She frowned at the text when she finished.

"Owned by a former head of the DMLE's brother,�� she read. "They might not be in on it."

Everything clicked in Neville's head. He nearly lept to his feet.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed.

"Sh!" came a hiss from Madame Pince.

"I've got it," Neville whispered, pride overshadowing his embarrassment. "You said the Rotfang Conspiracy's using gum disease to take over the world, right?"

Luna nodded, her eyes fixed on him.

"Well, if vampires control the Ministry, then they'll want to take down the conspiracy, because vampires need their teeth!"

Luna wrinkled her nose in thought. Neville eagerly awaited her answer.

"The conspiracy controls the DMLE, so they'll be using garlic as a weapon against the rest of them," she said. "Good work, Toad."

Neville beamed with pride. He of all people had been the one to solve the first part of the mystery. His victory was made all the sweeter by Luna's smile. For once, he knew he was doing a good job; he didn't need Rose to tell him. Even then, hew knew what she'd do. She'd grin at him, and say "Good work, Toad." Just like her sister had.

Hermione arrived at Professor Vector's office Wednesday morning. She shifted her gloves around, not enough to show the marks hidden beneath them, but enough that she could get some air flowing over her hands. She couldn't figure out how Rose wore them all day long, all the time. Her hands were already covered in sweat from wearing them for the time she had.

Why would it bother me? Different types of gloves don't have any actual effects. Just like it makes no difference what's in your face slot when it's raining, just what it does. Silly Brain.

She opened the door to Professor Vector's office, and found not only her, but Cedric waiting for her. He smiled at her as she closed the door. She gave a smile, although she felt her eyes scowling.

"Hi, Cedric," Hermione said, her voice sharing confusion with her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"We thought we would both talk with you," Professor Vector said. "I've been talking to Cedric about a concern we've both had for the past few weeks."

Oh no.

Professor Vector motioned to the empty seat in front of her desk. "Please, take a seat."

Hermione looked at Cedric again, then back at the closed door. She couldn't shake the feeling of walking into a trap, although she couldn't see another option.

After she'd taken her seat, Professor Vector continued.

"I'll get straight to the point," she said. "Please remove your gloves."

"What for?"

"Because it's more than just… what was the word you used… paying homage to her," Cedric said. "All three of us know you're hiding something under them, and we're worried."

"You aren't in any trouble," Professor Vector added. "We just want to make sure you're alright."

Hermione looked at her two companions again. "I'd really rather not."

"Remove your gloves, or I'll fail you out of Arithmancy."

Hermione's heart stopped, and she felt a sudden urge to vomit. Professor Vector's stare bore a hole right through her, not unlike the worst of Professor McGonagall's glares. Hermione didn't know if she'd follow through on it, but she wasn't about to wait and find out.

"Alright," Hermione said. "You win."

Hermione slowly removed her gloves. She pulled the left one first and felt a sudden chill when fresh air hit her sweat-soaked hand. It felt odd not having the rough interior of the glove to cover her hand. She stretched her fingers for a moment, adjusting to not having the glove on.

Before Hermione removed her right glove, she glanced up at Professor Vector. She was still watching Hermione, waiting for her to remove the other glove. There was no getting out of it.

Hermione pulled the second one off an inch at a time, wincing when it caught the marks on her hand.

"Hermione," Cedric breathed. "What did you do?"

"I don't know what Peta-Lorrum told you was acceptable, but harming yourself–"

Hermione shook her head. "It's not what it looks like."

"Isn't it?" Professor Vector asked. "It looks like you took it upon yourself to cut into your own skin as punishment for disrupting class."

"That's sort of what happened," Hermione said. For a moment, she wished she could cast teleport or dimension door. Anything that would free her from having to remember her detentions with Umbridge.

"Mind telling us the whole story?" Cedric asked.

"I… I don't need help!" Hermione could hear the sobs in her own voice. She didn't want to imagine how she must've looked to Cedric and Professor Vector.

"We just want to know what happened," Professor Vector said calmly. "That's all."

Hermione looked away from both of them to allow herself to calm down. When that didn't work, she squeezed her eyes shut.

"The first day of class, Umbridge tried telling everyone that Rose killed herself. She said some dürah about how it didn't come as a surprise. I lashed out at her, calling her a liar. She gave me detention that night, and told me to write lines with a quill without ink. When I wrote, the quill produced ink, and I realized it was carving the words I wrote into my hand."

Hermione opened her eyes, slowly at first, then wiped the tears out of them. When the rest of the room came into focus, she found Professor Vector staring at her still. This time, she wasn't concerned; she was angry. For a moment, Hermione could almost hear Rose's voice.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Professor Vector asked. Her voice was low and foreboding.

"Just Harry, and only because he was waiting for me outside her office."

Professor Vector turned to Cedric. "Fetch Professor McGonagall. Tell her to drop what she's doing and come here immediately."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I don't want anyone to know about this!"

"Now, Diggory. Do as I say."

Cedric looked at Hermione again. "I'm sorry, Hermione. But she's right."

Cedric went for the door. Acting entirely on instinct, Hermione began casting a spell. If they weren't going to listen, then she was going to make them listen.

"What if it had been Ms. Lovegood or Ms. Weasley in your place? What would you urge them to do?"

Hermione lowered her hand and settled into her seat. She allowed Cedric to leave, then spoke as soon as the door slammed shut.

"It's different," Hermione said. "I'm not afraid of Umbridge. I didn't stop writing, I didn't cry around her, and I didn't show weakness. She's wrong, and I'm not going to take any of that from her. She's wrong about Rose, and stating it as fact is an insult to her memory. I don't care how many times she makes me hurt myself, I'm not going to give in."

She glared back at Professor Vector. Hermione knew she was right; she could take it. She had recovered from the Cruciatus Curse; this was nothing compared to that.

"Finished?" Professor Vector asked.

"For now."

"Good. Because we're not talking about you right now. I have no doubt that this is child's play compared to what you've been through, but that's not what's at stake here. While Mr. Diggory may be concerned solely about you, and perhaps the students he oversees, the staff are concerned about all students. If she did this to you– you, Ms. Killed-or-Worse-Expelled–"

"I said that once!" Hermione exclaimed. "Once! Who even–"

"Peeves."

"Of course it was Peeves," Hermione muttered. "Or the Twins. Or both! They're probably working together."

"The point is, if she saw fit to punish a nearly perfect student such as yourself, for a single outburst, and with such extreme measures, I imagine she'll see fit to use such a punishment on all students that step out of line. First-year, seventh-year, boy, girl, I doubt any of that matters to her."

Hermione pondered Professor Vector's words for a moment. Anyone could be at risk: Luna, Ginny, Harry. Sally-Anne was likely the only one safe, but only because she was better at keeping to the rules than they were. Neville could keep his temper easily, but Ginny would be the next most likely victim. It was only a matter of time before she blew up at Umbridge, or blew up Umbridge, whichever came first.

"I understand," Hermione said.

"Good."

Not a minute later, Professor McGonagall burst through the door, with Cedric and Angelina in tow.

"Show me," she ordered.

Hermione held up her hand so Professor McGonagall could study it.

"Right, first of all, Ms. Granger, are you alright?"

"Angry that a member of staff is blatantly lying about how my best friend died, but apart from that, kethé."

"Good. Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

"I didn't want to give Umbridge the satisfaction of me complaining about it."

"And you've taken no action to deal with this yourself?"

"Apart from hiding it under gloves, no."

Professor McGonagall nodded, then looked to Professor Vector. "All of you, come with me. We're going to see Professor Dumbledore."

Professor McGonagall led their procession up to the seventh floor, and straight to Professor Dumbledore's office. Professor Vector followed close behind, with Cedric and Angelina on either side of Hermione.

"You could've said something," Angelina said. "I know I'm not your prefect, but you could've come to me with this."

"I don't know if I'd have even gone to Alex," Hermione said. "No offence to either of you, but I actually doubt she'd have given me a choice."

"Professor Vector's right, though," Cedric said. "Who knows how many people she's done this to?"

"I'm trying not to think about it," Hermione said.

Professor McGonagall barked a password to the gargoyle, which lept aside to allow them all to ascend the stairs. She flung the door open when she reached the top of the stairs, and stormed straight up to Professor Dumbledore's desk.

Professor Dumbledore took a quick glance at the assembled group in his office, then turned his attention back to McGonagall.

"Minerva, how may I help you?"

Professor McGonagall motioned to Hermione to step forward, and Hermione slipped off her glove again.

"This is what that woman is doing to your students, Albus," she hissed.

Dumbledore studied Hermione's hand for a moment, then turned to Hermione.

"Ms. Granger, would you care to explain?"

Hermione gave another recollection of her detention with Umbridge. Dumbledore's face didn't change once as she spoke. If anything about it bothered him, he didn't show it.

"Do you honestly believe the Minister allowed that?" McGonagall hissed.

"I'm sure Dolores could produce the parchment with his signature on it if you asked her," Dumbledore replied. "I doubt it'd take her more than a few minutes, regardless of when you asked."

"So we're going to relive two years ago?" McGonagall asked. "With us telling you to stop dragging your feet, and you telling us your hands are tied?"

Dumbledore glared at McGonagall, but to Hermione's surprise, she didn't back down.

"You think she's the last?" McGonagall asked. "How many more, Albus?"

"What do you expect me to do, Minerva?" he replied, as calmly as ever. "Sack her? Need I remind you, I didn't hire her, and thus don't possess the ability to sack her. If we want to remove her, we must appeal to Cornelius, who refuses to see reason in regard to Hogwarts. So again, what do you expect me to do?"

McGonagall glared at Dumbledore, but she stepped back nonetheless.

"Ms. Granger, I am sorry that you've been caught up in this," Dumbledore said. "Is your hand alright?"

"Fine," Hermione replied.

Dumbledore studied her for a moment. Hermione stared back at him, knowing full well that any attempts at invading her mind were futile.

"I will remind you that Ms. Peta-Lorrum was only allowed to stay because we all knew how pointless expelling her would be."

"Like you said, even getting rid of Umbridge won't do any good," Hermione said, "and making her life miserable probably won't help."

No matter how much better it'd make me feel.

"I will discuss her disciplinary methods with her," Dumbledore said, "and recommend that she use our standard methods of punishment. I will also advise that you all let this go for the time being, but please, report any further incidents of this nature to me or another member of staff."

Sunday morning, an announcement was made that Defence Against the Dark Arts would be cancelled for the following week. The news came just before the mail arrived, giving them the rest of the story with the Daily Prophet.

"Formal inquisition?" Hermione asked after she finished reading the article. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sally-Anne held up one finger. "Our first year, we were attacked by a troll, a dragon, and a teacher." Another finger went up. "Our second year, we were all nearly killed by a basilisk. The castle nearly came down on top of us our third year, and Rose died last year. That's four—"

"Then why aren't they looking into that?" Hermione shot back, briefly lamenting the fact that Sally-Anne was the only one still reading the Daily Prophet. She doubted she'd have been having an argument with Neville or Harry.

"They really can't," Sally-Anne replied. "They haven't got a body anymore, since Taltria and Alavel brought it out to sea, and—"

"There's a good reason for that. If Fudge got his slimy hands on her, who knows what he'd be able to scrape off from her magic!"

"They can't investigate without a body, so as far as they know, she killed herself."

"You can't actually believe what they've been saying!"

Hermione realized she'd screamed louder than she'd wanted, but in the Great Hall during breakfast, no one noticed. The only one whose attention she'd drawn was Ron's, but she did that without yelling.

"I don't, but they've got nothing else apart from Harry's word, and while that's good enough for me, it wouldn't be for them. So far as people here know, it's not possible to come back from the dead. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—"

"Voldemort."

"—is back from the dead, no one knows how he did it."

Not for the first time in the past month, Hermione had an answer, but wasn't allowed to say it. She knew how; Rose had explained how Horcruxes worked. With Voldemort's soul bound to the physical world, he'd just needed to recreate a body for it to inhabit. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't tell anyone that without them asking how she knew about any of it. She'd looked for books on Horcruxes in the library, but she couldn't find anything.

"Coming back to my original point, it's not safe here. Perhaps it's time someone looked into why nothing seems to go right around here."

Hermione knew the answer to that, too: Voldemort, Sylvia, and Fudge. If Fudge hadn't sent Dementors their third year, everything would've been fine. If Sylvia hadn't hijacked the diary (or Malfoy hadn't dumped it with Ginny in the first place), they would've been fine. If Voldemort hadn't let in a troll (and Sylvia hadn't sent a dragon after Rose), they would've been fine.

"Moving on," Sally-Anne said. "While I've got your attention…" She tapped the side of her ear, giving Hermione a bad feeling. "What happened with Ron?"

"That is the last thing I want to—"

"Because I know you care about him. At least, you did. This is probably the first time I've talked to you in nearly a month, including Potions, during which you insist on working alone. If I weren't the only one to get the Daily Prophet, you'd probably still be ignoring me."

"What's your point?"

"Ron seems to think you hate him."

"I don't hate him."

"Then what?"

"I… I didn't write to him all summer. What was I supposed to tell him?"

"The truth."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"That'd go well. 'Sorry, Ron, I was too busy thinking about other things.'"

"Is that really what happened?"

"Nothing makes sense about how Rose died. Something's going on, and I've got to figure out what."

"This doesn't all come down to you, Hermione. You certainly don't have to do this alone. You could've asked Ron for his help."

"I… It was hard enough knowing that I'm never going to see Rose again. I couldn't bring myself to write him."

"So you buried yourself in a problem to solve so you wouldn't have to think about it."

Hermione hesitated. She hadn't thought about it like that, just that she would've rather been spending time trying to figure out what had really happened. Phrasing it the way Sally-Anne did was… mean.

"I… I didn't mean to."

"Of course not, but you also didn't fix it when you had the chance."

After some silence, Sally-Anne watched her expectantly. Hermione became aware that people were leaving the Great Hall.

"If I'd tried to explain it, all he would've heard was that he wasn't important. That I'd chosen something else over him."

Sally-Anne looked at Hermione with disappointment in her eyes.

"We'll never know how he would've taken it now."

With that, Sally-Anne stood up from the table.

What does she know?

I know Ron a lot better than she does.

She's right, though.

I shouldn't have shut him out.

If only I could go back.

No. Don't dwell on it. What's done is done.

Still…

Brain!

Hermione jumped in her seat and saw that she was one of a few people left in the Great Hall. The rest of her friends had left.

If you don't hurry, you'll be late for Professor Snape's lesson.

Right.

Hermione grabbed her pack and hurried out of the Great Hall, her conversation with Sally-Anne already moved to the back of her mind.