Chapter Text
Hermione adjusted her traditional witch’s hat over her braided hair with a grimace, then smoothed down her formal robes.
“I can’t imagine why she insisted on me wearing this ridiculous thing”, she grumbled to Crookshanks. “So much for a ‘modern wizarding institution for the 21st century’!” Crookshanks paused momentarily and flicked an ear in his equivalent of a shrug, then returned to grooming himself, utterly unconcerned by his mistress’ concerns with her outfit.
Minerva had been very vague on why the hat and the robes were required, saying only that it was tradition for the Hogwarts staff to meet at midnight on All Hallow’s Eve to participate in a ritual. The form and purpose of this ritual remained a total mystery to Hermione, despite hours spent in the library perusing older editions of Hogwarts: A History and several ancient ritual texts. And as the newest teacher at Hogwarts, Hermione’s arguments against the stupid hat for the mysterious ritual had fallen on deaf ears.
The alarm she’d set on her wand sounded, and she realised she needed to hurry if she was going to get to the Headmistress’ office in time. She glanced at the mirror one last time, then snatched up her wand and bustled out of her quarters.
She arrived at Minerva’s office a few minutes later, slightly out of breath from the pace she’d maintained in the climb from the dungeons. Her rooms were convenient for the Potions classroom, but a good distance away from the rest of the castle. As she tucked herself against the wall and tried to surreptitiously catch her breath, she wondered whether this was one of the reasons Professor Slughorn had been so relieved when she’d finished her apprenticeship and he’d been able to retire again, after taking over from Professor Snape during his years as Defence Against The Dark Arts professor and Headmaster and his subsequent unfortunate demise.
The thought brought a familiar pang to Hermione. Professor Snape’s body had never been found, but she’d studied medical charms comprehensively ahead of her year on the run, and she knew there was no way he could have survived his wounds unless someone had tended him immediately after Nagini attacked him.
Which she hadn’t.
She’d spent the year after the war in Australia, reconnecting with her parents and studying remotely for her NEWTs. But it had given her an awfully long time to think, and to dwell on the people she’d failed during the last battle. Even though her rational mind knew that there was nothing more that she realistically could have done to save Professor Snape, or Fred, or Remus and Tonks, her survivor’s guilt insisted that she should have done something.
So instead, she’d looked at how she could fill the gap left by the people they’d lost. She had no desire to be an Auror like Tonks, and Merlin knew that she wasn’t in Fred’s league as a prankster and entrepreneur, but Professor Snape had been the premier Potions Master in the country, and one of the only Masters with any inclination towards teaching an introductory curriculum. Although she didn’t consider herself to have the same intuitive capacity for potions that he’d had, she knew it was an area where she could excel, and pass on knowledge to another generation of Hogwarts students. And after her two-year apprenticeship, here she was – two months into her first term as the Potions Professor at Hogwarts.
She’d wished more than once since she started her apprenticeship that she could have just one conversation with him as a colleague, peer to peer. As her training had progressed she’d come to appreciate his level of skill and experience even more, but that was only part of it. During her fifth and sixth year she’d come to admire him and appreciate his dry sense of humour – particularly when it wasn’t directed at her.
The image popped into her head unbidden of how fit he must have been under those robes after almost 20 years of the climb she’d just made from the dungeons, and she found herself caught in a sudden coughing fit as she tried to suppress a giggle at the entirely inappropriate thought.
“Alright there, ‘Ermione?” The question was accompanied by a thump to her back that nearly winded her, and she gasped out a response to Hagrid. She was spared from further explanations by Minerva gently tapping her wand against a small crystal goblet on her desk, calling the gathering to order.
Minerva waited a moment for the room to quiet, then gave them all a gentle smile.
“Thank you all for coming. For Hermione’s benefit,” she smiled more warmly at Hermione and gave her a slight nod, “I’ll remind you all why it is that we’re here.
“As you are all aware, Hogwarts has a certain amount of awareness and sentience. And it is on this night, where the veils between the worlds are thinnest, that it can express itself to us most clearly.”
She picked up the crystal goblet from her desk, and started walking towards Professor Flitwick. “I will offer the goblet to each of you in turn. If it stays empty, there is nothing that the castle needs from you at this time. However, if it fills with liquid, the castle is charging you with a quest to address some need it has, or to right a wrong that has been done to it.”
She offered the goblet to Filius, who accepted it with a smile. He held the goblet in front of him with both hands for 20 seconds or so, then shook his head slightly and passed it back to Minerva, who then passed it to Madam Hooch.
This time, the reaction was instantaneous. The goblet filled with a deep golden liquid almost the moment that Rolanda touched it. She silently toasted the castle, then tossed the contents back in a single mouthful and passed the goblet back to the Headmistress. For a moment nothing happened, then Hermione saw Rolanda’s face light up as if from within as she turned and raced towards the door, shouting “back in a moment, just need to get something!”
Hermione realised that her jaw was hanging open at the suddenness of the whole thing, and tried to compose herself as Minerva wiped the goblet clean and passed it to Hagrid. After a short while in which it became apparent that nothing was happening, he passed it back to Minerva, who then turned to Hermione.
“I understand that you’ve used Felix Felicis before?” At Hermione’s nod, Minerva continued. “This potion, if it appears for you, works in a similar way. It will tell you exactly which actions you need to take, even though you may not be able to see the goal those actions are working towards. You’ll know your quest is completed when you feel the effects of the potion fade.”
“What if I fail the quest?”
Minerva gave her a fond smile. “My dear, to my knowledge, no-one has failed in the quest they’ve been given by the castle. And remember, it wants you to succeed – some people in the past have said that Hogwarts was able to help their quest in small ways.”
She held out the goblet to Hermione, who took it after a short moment and gasped as the goblet filled with that same golden liquid. Up close it looked like a champagne with liquid gold swirls, and smelt like ripe strawberries. She took a sip, then tossed the rest back as Hooch had, delighting in the taste.
She was barely aware of passing the goblet back to Minerva, filled as she was with a warmth and a drive to move move move. She barely managed to gasp “I have to go”, and then she was racing back down the stairs towards her classroom and its small private laboratory.
Cauldron, the castle prompted her as she burst through the door. That one.
She snatched up a large, deep iron cauldron, then nearly tripped as Crookshanks wound his way around her feet. “Crooks! How did you get out here?!” she exclaimed, then noticed something in his mouth. Reaching down to take it from him, she realised it was the crimson bow she’d been given a few weeks earlier by Harry for her birthday. He had charmed it with a modified Protego charm he’d learnt during Auror training, which would lie dormant until she was under attack or her life was threatened. Yes, thrummed the castle through her. She set down the cauldron for a moment to tie the bow around the end of her braid, then gathered up both cauldron and cat and headed back towards the stairs.
Entrance Hall, urged the potion.
Hermione ignored the burning in her legs as she sprinted up the stairs, driven by the castle. As she arrived in the Entrance Hall again gasping for breath, she nearly collided with Rolanda, who was equally winded and carrying a sleek black broom that Hermione almost recognised.
“Hermione!” gasped Rolanda. “You’re going to need this. It was Professor Snape’s broom, he left it with me before… well, before the end.” She thrust the broom at Hermione, and Crookshanks jumped down to allow her a free hand to take it. Once Hermione had the broom, Rolanda seemed to sag, and the glow that Hermione had seen earlier faded before her eyes.
“That’s me done, I think. Good luck, my girl! Whatever the castle needs from you, I’m sure you’ll succeed.”
Despite the insistence of the castle, Hermione paused and took a deep breath of trepidation as she mounted the broom and hooked her cauldron carefully to the front. Nothing in the last few years had changed her opinion of flying, and the glow from the potion warred with the anxiety pooled in the pit of her stomach –
And then the potion took over again. Crookshanks leapt onto the broom in front of her, and she kicked off from the floor, shooting through the front doors of the castle into the moonlight.