OPOET 4
Chapter 4:
Hermione and Crookshanks walked on at a leisurely pace towards the castle. There was just the hint of gentle breeze in the air, and she threw her head back, enjoying the feel of it rustling through her thick hair. She smiled as she realized she was humming, her arms swinging happily in rhythm as she approached the main door. The thought struck her again that she felt as though she were returning home. But as she neared the steps she suddenly halted and narrowed her eyes, squinting up at the massive walls of the edifice.
It had always been a warm and welcoming sight for her. But Snape had spoken of being in 'servitude'. Apparently, he had felt more like a slave or perhaps a prisoner within its walls.
Well, she sniffed, shaking her head and hastily climbing the stairs, what did you expect when you spent most of your time skulking around the dungeons? As far as she understood the situation, there was a very good chance that, had Dumbledore not voiced his support of Snape during the first set of Death Eater trials, the greasy-haired wizard would have ended up in Azkaban years ago. But trust Snape to look on the dark side of everything, and make it sound as if Dumbledore was punishing him rather than sheltering him.
By this time she was through the doors and standing in the main hallway. She looked around for a moment, hoping to see one of the other teachers, but the hall remained eerily empty and silent. Crookshanks' purr resounded loudly in the room as he began once more to circle around her ankles.
"Oh, dear," she said, smiling down at him. "I know you're hungry, but I'd really like to get to our rooms first." For a brief moment, she considered heading over to the Headmistress' office. But she decided against it, arguing that she really should dispose of her packages, get Crookshanks settled in the new quarters and take a few minutes to freshen up herself before meeting with McGonagall. Instead, she directed her steps toward the Great Hall in the hopes that someone (right about now she might even settle for a house elf) would be rattling around and willing to help her find her way.
The creak of the door pushing inward sounded surprisingly noisy as it echoed through the large chamber. The room looked even larger than normal since the tables for the four Houses were pushed to the side, leaving the middle of the room distressingly vacant. The long table that sat upon the dais appeared slightly odd as well. There were only a half dozen chairs placed around it, and Hermione noticed immediately that Dumbledore's large, throne-like chair was not at the table. It was set back behind the others, near the large stain glassed window, as if no one could as yet bear to see it claimed by his successor.
The four hour-glasses set upon the wall gleamed brightly. Their jewels, all returned to the upper bulbs in anticipation of the new school year, sparkled merrily in the sunlight. As she stared up again, she once more felt the enormity of taking on the responsibility of heading Gryffindor House. She had a rather sneaking suspicion, as a matter of fact, that at the end of the year most of the rubies might still be where they were at the moment.
"Ten points to Gryffindor for having the prettiest Head of House," came a voice behind her.
As the jewels began to trickle into the lower bulb, she pivoted on her heel to see who had spoken. A broadly smiling Charlie Weasley was placing his wand in the pocket of his jeans and walking towards her with his arms held out in front of him. Running to him, she clasped her arms around him and hugged him happily. During the past few years, she had visited the Weasley family with great regularity and Charlie's role as a member of the Order of the Phoenix had ensured that his own trips to England were much more frequent than they had been. She felt his arms wrap around her as well and after a few moments it seemed, to her surprise, that he seemed somewhat loathe to release her. She allowed a few more seconds to pass and then she grinned up at him and gently placed her hands upon his shoulders, pushing back slightly so that she could get a better look at his face.
"What's with the beard?" she asked, reaching up to stroke reddish-gold hair upon his cheek and chin. She had expected it to be rather bristly and found herself quietly pleased that instead, it was amazingly soft.
"Well," he admitted with a chuckle, drawing away from her and ruefully pulling at the growth himself, "It's something I always wanted to do. But after having my eyebrows singed off a couple of times, I decided facial hair was not a good idea when you're working with dragons." Shrugging his shoulders, he laughed and continued: "But, I thought it might help me look suitably distinguished for a Hogwarts Professor."
"I see," she replied, chuckling herself. "And what's this I hear about including dragons in 'Care of Magical Creatures' classes?"
"Oh," he cringed, shaking his head. "No, no, no! What I told Hagrid was that I might be willing to arrange a field trip to one of the colonies-but only for a few select seventh years."
"He won't give up on the idea, you know," she said.
"Probably not," he admitted cheerfully.
"Anyway," she said, turning back to the hourglasses and retrieving her wand. With a wave, the rubies returned to their proper place. "You can't award or deduct points until after the start-of-term Feast," she reprimanded. "Besides," she added, "You didn't have a valid reason. Gryffindor prides itself on bravery, not physical attractiveness."
"A speech delivered with suitable schoolmarm sternness," he teased. "All right," he said, stroking his beard again. "Let's see. You are exceedingly brave, and everyone knows you're just as smart as anyone whose ever come out of Ravenclaw, including Flitwick. And as hard-working as any Hufflepuff. I think, based upon the fact that you exemplify the best of three our of the four houses, you still deserve special recognition."
"Oh," she said, her lips set into a petulant frown. "Are you telling me I'm not sneaky enough?"
He laughed loudly, throwing his head back and placing his hands upon his hips. "Well, you've managed quite a few ingeniously clever tricks in your time," he allowed. "Much more than I ever thought you would from the way that Ron and Percy first described you," he admitted, with a wink. "But, yeah, I do think ol' Snape has the advantage on you there."
"Ol' Snape," she teased, running her eyes up and down his frame. "He's not that much older than you are! Anyway," she said, suddenly anxious to change the subject. "The last I heard it sounded like your mother and Percy were finally patching things up?" she asked.
"Oh, much more than that," he said, waving his wand in the direction of group of chairs gathered near the door. Two of the wooden chairs came flying through the air and landed beside them. Taking a seat, he chuckled once more. "He's become the favorite son again."
"Oh, what now?" she asked, seating herself as well. "Managed a new promotion in the Ministry?"
"Much better than that," he answered. Leaning forward, he grinned again, and she suddenly noticed how white and even his teeth were, especially contrasted against the red of his beard and skin. "He and Penelope are expecting-twins, no less."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I didn't even know that they had finally gotten married."
"Well, they did. At the beginning of summer. Just a small ceremony right at the Ministry, as a matter of fact." Glancing around the hall, he cleared his throat and continued, "A rather uh, rushed affair, under the circumstances," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Oh," she said, her hand flying to her mouth. "You don't mean?" She paused and imagined Percy Weasley, proper and pompous, being hurried into hastily-arranged marriage because of an unexpected pregnancy. "Oh, your mother must have been livid," she said, shaking her head.
"No, she was surprisingly calm. Actually," he added, his voice dipping down into a whisper as he leaned closer to her, "Fred and George are of the opinion that perhaps she suggested to Penelope that, if she was getting tired of not being able to pin Percy down to finally setting a date, it might be prudent to become a bit forgetful about the Contraceptive Potion."
"Oh, she wouldn't!" she squealed, feeling both amused and slightly scandalized. Crookshanks sprang into her lap, and she began to pet him absentmindedly.
"All I can say is that she was been very happily knitting away ever since, making two of everything," he said, sitting back in his chair.
"I would have thought they would have wanted a big ceremony though?" she asked, scratching Crookshanks' ears.
Charlie shook his head as he crossed his legs. "Well, Penelope just seemed relieved to finally get the ring on her finger and Percy was trying to draw as little attention as possible to the timing, of course." He smirked and rolled his eyes. "I'll bet you ten galleons that he'll insist upon telling their children that they were married the previous year. And as for Mum, well, by the time Bill and Fleur finally get married, she will probably have her fill of large ceremonies." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Four months to go and I swear it'll be a miracle she and Madame Delacour don't end up dueling each other to the death before then."
"I thought it was Bill and Fleur who had the fiery relationship?"
"Oh, yeah," he agreed, cheerfully. "Fred and George are starting to take bets on whether or not Fleur will end up walking down the aisle. Or if she'll just keep walking and and not stop at the altar," he joked. Shaking his head again, he continued, "Although Ginny joked the other day that maybe Gabrielle and Ron would be standing by, ready to fill in for them if that happens."
He opened his mouth to add something else, but shut it abruptly as he realized that Hermione's face had gone suddenly still and white.
"Oh, hell, Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, his freckled face turning a brighter shade of red. "I just thought that you and Ron had-" He broke off, and gestured helplessly with his hands.
"We did," she said, swallowing hard. "We decided it was never going to work, and we're just fine being friends," she insisted. "It's just that-I had seen it in the paper, but-" She shook her head, looking confused. "But her sister's just a kid!"
"Well, she always looked like one," he agreed. "Seems that Veela blood keeps a girl unnaturally small and young-looking until, until she-" By now the deep scarlet of his face would have put the Gryffindor rubies to shame. "-blossoms," he finished, lamely.
Hermione found herself giggling loudly, in an almost hysterical manner for a moment. "So she has 'blossomed' then?" she asked, rising to her feet and dislodging a surprised cat from her lap. "And no doubt Ron and all the other males within visual proximity have noticed."
Charlie was struggling to his feet as well. "Oh, cripes, Hermione," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't have said anything, but I just figured that Ginny must have written to you."
"No, no, it's my fault," she said, reaching down towards Crookshanks, intending to apologize by petting him again. But the cat drew back reproachfully, not quite ready to forgive her transgression of having unceremoniously dumped him from his spot. "I purposefully told everyone not to write to me this summer and this is my reward." She smiled and shook her hand. "Seems as though I have quite a lot of catching-up to do."
Charlie still looked absolutely mortified, but before he could say anything else their was a high-pitched squeal, and they both turned to look in the direction from whence it had came.
"Professor Granger!" The voice was loud and absolutely delighted.
"Dobby!" she answered, and even if she hadn't been anxious to conclude her conversation with Charlie, she would have been hard-pressed to ignore the little house-elf. As usual, he wore a pair of brightly-colored and mismatched socks, but Hermione bent down and squinted as she tried to fathom what on earth he was wearing on the rest of his body.
"Does the Professor see?" he asked, bouncing up and down happily on his little feet. "Dobby has never forgotten all the wonderful clothes that you knit for him," he assured her.
Blinking rapidly, she realized that he was somehow managed to sew the hats and socks that she had spent the better part of her Fifth year knitting into a weirdly thick, but colorful and soft toga-like outfit. "I see," she said slowly. Behind her, she heard the muffled sound of laughter as Charlie surveyed both of them.
"Dobby has heard that Professor Granger would come back to Hogwarts today and is wearing this in honor of your return!" he cried.
"So you don't normally dress this way," she said, as she straightened up.
"Oh, no, Professor, Dobby has lots and lots of clothes to wear now!" he assured her.
"Good!" she said, pausing to throw a wink in Charlie's direction. "Do you happen to know where my rooms are, Dobby?" she asked, bending down to retrieve her package and briefcase.
"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, leaping forward and snatching up the parcels before she could reach them. "Dobby knows, and has seen that all of your trunks have been taken there already. Dobby will show you the way now and get the Professor's cat some cream," he offered.
At this, Crookshanks purred loudly.
"A dish of water and some food will be fine," she said.
Crookshanks turned and gave her an annoyed look before bounding after the already rapidly-retreating figure of the house-elf.
"See you at dinner, then!" called Charlie.
She turned and smiled back at him, thankful that the momentary awkwardness had disappeared. "All right," she smiled.
"And by the way, Hermione?"
She turned back to look at him.
"Try not to make the rest of us new teachers look too bad by being perfect at everything right away?" he asked in a very serious voice as he raised his hands together in a gesture of supplication.
In response, she cheerfully stuck her tongue out at him.
"So where are we headed?' she asked, as she caught up to Dobby and Crookshanks again.
"The fourth floor, Professor," he answered, puffing slightly as he began to hop up the stairs. "There is a nice set of rooms there, close to the Gryffindor tower and the Headmistress said she hoped you would like it."
"I'm sure I will," she answered.
Indeed, she thought a few minutes later as she stood and gazed around her new quarters, they seemed to be wonderful. The bedroom itself was just a bit cramped, and she was already considering changing the bed from a four-poster to something a little less forbidding, hoping that it would make the room look more spacious. But there was a huge closet and the main sitting room was good-sized, airy and bright. The walls were lined with shelves and there was a large and ornately carved desk, which still managed to have the hint of a feminine touch to it. And in the corner there was a window seat topped with a set of plush cushions, and she could already imagine herself and Crookshanks spending many hours happily ensconced upon it as she read and graded papers.
She opened up one of the trunks and removed some essential items and by the time she had hung up some clothes and her new robes and arranged a few of her toiletries, Dobby had already returned carrying two ridiculously ornate bowls containing food and water. Placing them upon a thick mat underneath the sitting room's second window, he asked Hermione if there was anything else she needed. Assuring him that everything was perfect, she watched as he bounced out of the room again and then made her way to the bathroom. Deciding that she didn't have time to indulge in a shower or bath, she threw off her clothes and contented herself with a quick scrubbing of her face and upper body.
Hurrying to dress in fresh clothes, she debated for a moment about whether or not she should it was necessary to dress formally in robes. Charlie had been dressed in blue jeans and a casual, short-sleeved shirt, so she hoped it was not going to be egregiously casual for her to appear in the Headmistress' office in a demure summer dress. Shrugging the garment over her head, she smoothed it over her hips and decidedly that it appeared to be an acceptable compromise. She padded back to the sitting room and retrieved a pair of good sandals from the other trunk and then returned to her vanity to apply a quick coat of lipstick and to run a brush through her hair. Securing the wavy strands back into a ponytail, she nodded in satisfaction and then took in a deep breath and prepared to make her departure.
"You staying in here for awhile?" she asked. Crookshanks, who was perched by the open window, peering out of it as his ears twitched excitedly, didn't even bother to turn around at the sound of her voice. "All right, then," she laughed, "I shouldn't be gone long anyway."
As she closed the door behind her and turned down the hallway she found herself hoping that the staircase that Dobby had used to lead her to her room had not as yet decided to change its direction. As familiar as she was with Hogwarts, she had to admit that it would take a few more trips through this section before she felt absolutely comfortable. To her relief, the staircase had either remained in place or changed back again, and within a very short time she found herself standing before the gargoyle that stood guard over the Headmistress' office. It leapt aside obligingly as she pronounced the password, and she couldn't help but think that there was something almost feline in the way it moved. She wondered again just how much everything in Hogwarts was going to change with McGonagall in charge.
The big oak door seemed familiar enough, however, and she tried to ignore the fact that her heart was suddenly beating loudly as she knocked upon it.
"Come in!"
She opened the door to find McGonagall looking up from the desk that had previously stood within the Transfiguration room, while already rising from his seat and rushing toward her with a smile upon his tiny face was Professor Flitwick.
"Oh, we'd hoped you be in time for tea," he squeaked, shaking her hand enthusiastically.
Inwardly, Hermione breathed a silent prayer of relief that she had taken time to rid herself of her morning's rather large portion of liquid refreshments before venturing forth. Releasing Flitwick's hand, she moved to greet McGonagall, who had risen from her seat and strode around the desk to greet her. For a moment, she wondered if she was dressed too informally, for the Charms professor was wearing his traditional robes. As the Headmistress approached her, however, she noted thankfully that she was dressed simply in a white blouse and long plaid skirt.
"Yes, indeed," she said, extending her hand. To Hermione's surprise, she did not content herself with a simple shake, but clasped her left hand upon their entwined fingers as well and gave it an affectionate squeeze. And was it her imagination, or was there a hint of moisture in those green eyes?
"I am most delighted that you accepted my invitation to return to Hogwarts to teach," she said simply, releasing her grip.
She gestured toward a small oval table near the window, upon which stood a tea service and several platters filled with sandwiches, cakes and other delicacies. "Shall we begin?" she suggested.
For the next few minutes, they busied themselves with the pouring of the tea and the filling of their plates.
"Not that anyone every doubted that you would someday return as a professor, my dear" proclaimed Flitwick, who paused to charm an additional cushion onto his chair to ensure that he could see over the tabletop. "Now, you don't mind if I call you Hermione, do you?" he asked, in a friendly manner. "Since we are equals, now?" he added.
"Oh, no, please do," she assured him, as she stirred the sugar into her tea.
"And from now on, I am Filius," he added, smoothing the napkin over his lap.
"Thank you," she said, "I'll do my best, but-"
"It will seem strange at first," finished McGonagall with a smile. "Believe me, I know," she said, adding honey to her own cup. "Therefore, I will allow you an occasional lapse during the first month or so," she continued, taking a sip of her tea. "But after that," she warned, setting it down, "There will be no excuse for not calling me Minerva."
"I'll do my best," she repeated, shaking her head ruefully as she took a small bite of her sandwich.
"Anyway, as I was saying, Hermione," said Flitwick, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "By the end of your first year here at Hogwarts, there had already been a spirited debate in the Staff Room regarding not if you should teach, but which subject it should be." He laughed and reached for his cup. "I regret to say that Minerva and I entered into a bet that should you choose Charms, she would have to pay me five galleons." Heaving a large sigh, he tilted his head to the side. "Instead, I found myself having to hand over that exact sum to the Headmistress this morning."
"Of course," added McGonagall, adjusting her square-rimmed glasses upon her eyes, "Your other instructors felt just as strongly. Even Binns allowed that, should he ever decide to leave his post, you were the only student who seemed even remotely capable of filling his shoes."
"Hmm," replied Hermione, feeling a slight warmth upon her cheeks. "But of course," she said, setting her sandwich down and reaching for her cup, "You don't expect me to believe that Professor Snape expounded upon my talents in potions."
To her surprise, Flitwick unexpectedly began to choke upon his beverage. "Perhaps not," he admitted, once he had managed to catch his breath again. "But-" He hesitated and shot a bemused glance in McGonagall's direction.
"But I was very close to asking you to please consider teaching Potions instead of Transfiguration," she said, bending over to pour some fresh tea into Flitwick's cup.
"Before Professor Snape rescinded his resignation?" she asked.
"I see you have been talking to Hagrid," said McGonagall, the ends of her mouth curling up slightly.
"Well, yes," she admitted.
"We were very lucky, very lucky indeed that Severus reconsidered," murmured Flitwick.
"Couldn't you find anyone to replace him?" Hermione asked.
"No one who was even remotely qualified was interested in the position," clarified McGonagall. "It seems," she said sitting back in her chair, "That for some strange reason, very few of the Hogwarts graduates of the past fifteen years or so were very eager to pursue the subject once they left these walls." Her lips twitched upward again and Hermione had to keep from smiling herself as she realized the inference of her words.
Of course, since Snape had been teaching, the students had been roughly divided into two groups: Slytherins who received passing grades no matter who abysmally they performed in class, and the rest of the student population who were regularly chastised, belittled and bullied until only a very few could even tolerate the sight of a cauldron.
"But, since he reconsidered-" McGonagall began, only to be interrupted by the sudden appearance of an owl through one of the high, open windows of the office. The bird appeared to be in a great deal of hurry, for it landed upon the arm of the Headmistress' chair and held out its claw quite impatiently. She had barely managed to remove the small note when it fluffed its feathers and then hurried back out the window, completely ignoring the treat that Professor Flitwick had held out in his tiny fingers.
"That's rather strange behavior," said Hermione, frowning at the window through which the bird had departed.
"Well, I believe," said Flitwick, placing the tidbit back upon the side of his dish, "That it is Professor Sinistra's owl, so perhaps it has only flown from the Astronomy tower. She was also due back today, was she not, Minerva?"
She nodded her head in reply as she unrolled the piece of parchment and smoothed it out upon the table to read it. By the way her mouth thinned out as she read, they could only deduce that the news it contained was quite unpleasant.
"Something wrong?" Flitwick asked.
Pursing her lips in a most disapproving manner, McGonagall handed the paper to him.
"Oh, my!" he cried after a moment.
"Bad news?" asked Hermione, anxiously.
"Well," allowed Professor McGonagall, accepting the parchment back from Flitwick, who was frowning down at his plate. "Rather unexpected, shall we say."
Hermione felt suddenly uncomfortable, feeling that perhaps the news, whatever it was, concerned matters that were too confidential or too sensitive to discuss in front of her. "Perhaps I should go," she offered, moving to place her napkin on the table.
"No, no, my dear, not at all," cried Flitwick, suddenly bright and cheerful again as he sprang down to the floor. "I know that Minerva and you have things to talk about, and I have many things to attend to myself. I will look forward to seeing you at dinner," he called over his shoulder as he hurried out the door.
A moment later the door had clicked behind him and Hermione turned to look quizzically at the Headmistress.
"It appears," she began sitting back and tiredly removing her glasses, "That Professor Snape has asked Professor Sinistra to assume the role of Head of Slytherin House."
Hermione felt her jaw dropping open with surprise. "But-but," she offered, in a shocked tone of voice as she struggled to make sense of this pronouncement. Taking in a deep breath, she collected her thoughts. "In the first place, I didn't even know that she was a Slytherin," she began.
"Yes, she is the only other staff member at the moment who was a member of that house during her school years," said McGonagall, pinching her nose for a moment before replacing her glasses. "Though that is not, strictly speaking, a requirement for assuming the duties." Seeing Hermione's surprised expression, she continued. "As a matter of fact, Neville Longbottom has already agreed to accept the role of Head of Hufflepuff House this year."
She blinked again in surprise and then reached out to pick up her teacup, sipping at the liquid as she turned these unexpected developments over in her brain. She had always assumed that only former house members were eligible for the positions when they came available, but no one had actually come out and said it was an absolute rule. On the other hand, she had to admit that Neville would be surprisingly fair-minded and undoubtedly well-liked in the position once the shock wore off. He had proven himself to be remarkably resourceful and courageous during the war, earning the grudging respect of all the houses.
"But," she continued, "I must admit that Slytherin House has never had a non-Slytherin as its head."
"Well, in the second place," Hermione sputtered, "I mean she's a wonderful teacher, but-" She hesitated and took a swallow, wondering just how honest she was allowed to be.
"Go on," McGonagall urged.
"She stays up in her tower all the time," she finished. "I mean, how's she supposed to be prowling the halls and watching the students and taking off points and-" She stopped and swallowed again. In other words, how was she supposed to take Snape's place?
She glanced back at McGonagall's face and found, to her surprise, that she was smiling sadly.
"Yes, it does seem quite out of character for Severus to relinquish that power, doesn't it?" Picking up the piece of parchment, she opened it up and frowned as she quickly scanned again. "But, as long as Professor Sinistra has agreed to it, I am afraid there is little I can do to interfere." Sighing heavily, she tossed the parchment to the table. "And I sincerely doubt that Professor Snape is in any mood to discuss the situation with me."
Pushing back from the table, she rose from her chair and began to slowly pace up and down. "You know, Hermione, that Severus and I have always had a fragile relationship at best," she said. "He was a brilliant but difficult student, and I confess that the outright hostility between him and some of his contemporaries made it difficult to remain neutral in their disagreements. Looking back, I can see that there were times when my own prejudices combined with Severus' natural surliness may have compromised my judgment, making me favor other students more than I would like to admit." She paused to and stared down at the floor for a moment before raising her eyes back to Hermione's face. "And once he became Head of Slytherin, the antagonism between us only continued to grow. Not that I will admit to being the only guilty party in that regard."
Sighing again, she walked back to her desk chair and seated herself. "I sincerely believed that when he stormed out of this office that day after giving his resignation, that he would never return."
Hermione slowly turned her chair to face the desk. "Why did he return?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not quite sure," she admitted, shaking her head. "But when I received his letter, inquiring as to whether or not his former position had been filled, I knew that Albus would never forgive me if I turned him away." Clasping her hands in front of her, she allowed another small smile to flit across her lips. "Along with the fact that I truly had not found a suitable replacement, if course."
"However," she continued, sitting back in her chair. "I could also not deny the fact that many of the things he had told me that day were absolutely true. I had been preferential to the Gryffindors in the past, and I was continuing to do so now." She studied the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "Oh, of course I had the excuse that the war had left few people capable enough to teach, plus I did want to surround myself with people I knew well and trusted. And yet-" She lowered her head and looked Hermione directly in the eyes. "If I had heard Severus make the same claim, I would have been highly skeptical that it was anything other than blind House prejudice was influencing his decisions."
Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully. "Hagrid told me some of what went on that day," she said slowly. "But I got the definite feeling that my name might have been mentioned?"
McGonagall studied her carefully. "Are you sure you want to know?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Well," she said, looking down at her hands. "When I mentioned that he was desperately needed because I had no one else to teach Potions, he said something along the lines that there was 'a certain little know-it-all Gryffindor who would be ecstatic to show off her expertise in any scholastic field'."
"I see," she said, studying the ground for a moment.
"It's rather a compliment, you know?" she asked, gently. "At any rate, it was certainly nicer than his parting comment to me when I asked him to reconsider his decision, for the sake of the school."
Hermione raised her eyebrows and waited.
"Well," said McGonagall, clearing her throat. "Let us just say that he advised me that, as far as he was concerned, I could take the entire school and place it within a very confined space within my body."
"Oh!"
"And he did not suggest performing a shrinking spell before I attempted it," she added dryly.
Chapter 4:
Hermione and Crookshanks walked on at a leisurely pace towards the castle. There was just the hint of gentle breeze in the air, and she threw her head back, enjoying the feel of it rustling through her thick hair. She smiled as she realized she was humming, her arms swinging happily in rhythm as she approached the main door. The thought struck her again that she felt as though she were returning home. But as she neared the steps she suddenly halted and narrowed her eyes, squinting up at the massive walls of the edifice.
It had always been a warm and welcoming sight for her. But Snape had spoken of being in 'servitude'. Apparently, he had felt more like a slave or perhaps a prisoner within its walls.
Well, she sniffed, shaking her head and hastily climbing the stairs, what did you expect when you spent most of your time skulking around the dungeons? As far as she understood the situation, there was a very good chance that, had Dumbledore not voiced his support of Snape during the first set of Death Eater trials, the greasy-haired wizard would have ended up in Azkaban years ago. But trust Snape to look on the dark side of everything, and make it sound as if Dumbledore was punishing him rather than sheltering him.
By this time she was through the doors and standing in the main hallway. She looked around for a moment, hoping to see one of the other teachers, but the hall remained eerily empty and silent. Crookshanks' purr resounded loudly in the room as he began once more to circle around her ankles.
"Oh, dear," she said, smiling down at him. "I know you're hungry, but I'd really like to get to our rooms first." For a brief moment, she considered heading over to the Headmistress' office. But she decided against it, arguing that she really should dispose of her packages, get Crookshanks settled in the new quarters and take a few minutes to freshen up herself before meeting with McGonagall. Instead, she directed her steps toward the Great Hall in the hopes that someone (right about now she might even settle for a house elf) would be rattling around and willing to help her find her way.
The creak of the door pushing inward sounded surprisingly noisy as it echoed through the large chamber. The room looked even larger than normal since the tables for the four Houses were pushed to the side, leaving the middle of the room distressingly vacant. The long table that sat upon the dais appeared slightly odd as well. There were only a half dozen chairs placed around it, and Hermione noticed immediately that Dumbledore's large, throne-like chair was not at the table. It was set back behind the others, near the large stain glassed window, as if no one could as yet bear to see it claimed by his successor.
The four hour-glasses set upon the wall gleamed brightly. Their jewels, all returned to the upper bulbs in anticipation of the new school year, sparkled merrily in the sunlight. As she stared up again, she once more felt the enormity of taking on the responsibility of heading Gryffindor House. She had a rather sneaking suspicion, as a matter of fact, that at the end of the year most of the rubies might still be where they were at the moment.
"Ten points to Gryffindor for having the prettiest Head of House," came a voice behind her.
As the jewels began to trickle into the lower bulb, she pivoted on her heel to see who had spoken. A broadly smiling Charlie Weasley was placing his wand in the pocket of his jeans and walking towards her with his arms held out in front of him. Running to him, she clasped her arms around him and hugged him happily. During the past few years, she had visited the Weasley family with great regularity and Charlie's role as a member of the Order of the Phoenix had ensured that his own trips to England were much more frequent than they had been. She felt his arms wrap around her as well and after a few moments it seemed, to her surprise, that he seemed somewhat loathe to release her. She allowed a few more seconds to pass and then she grinned up at him and gently placed her hands upon his shoulders, pushing back slightly so that she could get a better look at his face.
"What's with the beard?" she asked, reaching up to stroke reddish-gold hair upon his cheek and chin. She had expected it to be rather bristly and found herself quietly pleased that instead, it was amazingly soft.
"Well," he admitted with a chuckle, drawing away from her and ruefully pulling at the growth himself, "It's something I always wanted to do. But after having my eyebrows singed off a couple of times, I decided facial hair was not a good idea when you're working with dragons." Shrugging his shoulders, he laughed and continued: "But, I thought it might help me look suitably distinguished for a Hogwarts Professor."
"I see," she replied, chuckling herself. "And what's this I hear about including dragons in 'Care of Magical Creatures' classes?"
"Oh," he cringed, shaking his head. "No, no, no! What I told Hagrid was that I might be willing to arrange a field trip to one of the colonies-but only for a few select seventh years."
"He won't give up on the idea, you know," she said.
"Probably not," he admitted cheerfully.
"Anyway," she said, turning back to the hourglasses and retrieving her wand. With a wave, the rubies returned to their proper place. "You can't award or deduct points until after the start-of-term Feast," she reprimanded. "Besides," she added, "You didn't have a valid reason. Gryffindor prides itself on bravery, not physical attractiveness."
"A speech delivered with suitable schoolmarm sternness," he teased. "All right," he said, stroking his beard again. "Let's see. You are exceedingly brave, and everyone knows you're just as smart as anyone whose ever come out of Ravenclaw, including Flitwick. And as hard-working as any Hufflepuff. I think, based upon the fact that you exemplify the best of three our of the four houses, you still deserve special recognition."
"Oh," she said, her lips set into a petulant frown. "Are you telling me I'm not sneaky enough?"
He laughed loudly, throwing his head back and placing his hands upon his hips. "Well, you've managed quite a few ingeniously clever tricks in your time," he allowed. "Much more than I ever thought you would from the way that Ron and Percy first described you," he admitted, with a wink. "But, yeah, I do think ol' Snape has the advantage on you there."
"Ol' Snape," she teased, running her eyes up and down his frame. "He's not that much older than you are! Anyway," she said, suddenly anxious to change the subject. "The last I heard it sounded like your mother and Percy were finally patching things up?" she asked.
"Oh, much more than that," he said, waving his wand in the direction of group of chairs gathered near the door. Two of the wooden chairs came flying through the air and landed beside them. Taking a seat, he chuckled once more. "He's become the favorite son again."
"Oh, what now?" she asked, seating herself as well. "Managed a new promotion in the Ministry?"
"Much better than that," he answered. Leaning forward, he grinned again, and she suddenly noticed how white and even his teeth were, especially contrasted against the red of his beard and skin. "He and Penelope are expecting-twins, no less."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I didn't even know that they had finally gotten married."
"Well, they did. At the beginning of summer. Just a small ceremony right at the Ministry, as a matter of fact." Glancing around the hall, he cleared his throat and continued, "A rather uh, rushed affair, under the circumstances," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Oh," she said, her hand flying to her mouth. "You don't mean?" She paused and imagined Percy Weasley, proper and pompous, being hurried into hastily-arranged marriage because of an unexpected pregnancy. "Oh, your mother must have been livid," she said, shaking her head.
"No, she was surprisingly calm. Actually," he added, his voice dipping down into a whisper as he leaned closer to her, "Fred and George are of the opinion that perhaps she suggested to Penelope that, if she was getting tired of not being able to pin Percy down to finally setting a date, it might be prudent to become a bit forgetful about the Contraceptive Potion."
"Oh, she wouldn't!" she squealed, feeling both amused and slightly scandalized. Crookshanks sprang into her lap, and she began to pet him absentmindedly.
"All I can say is that she was been very happily knitting away ever since, making two of everything," he said, sitting back in his chair.
"I would have thought they would have wanted a big ceremony though?" she asked, scratching Crookshanks' ears.
Charlie shook his head as he crossed his legs. "Well, Penelope just seemed relieved to finally get the ring on her finger and Percy was trying to draw as little attention as possible to the timing, of course." He smirked and rolled his eyes. "I'll bet you ten galleons that he'll insist upon telling their children that they were married the previous year. And as for Mum, well, by the time Bill and Fleur finally get married, she will probably have her fill of large ceremonies." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Four months to go and I swear it'll be a miracle she and Madame Delacour don't end up dueling each other to the death before then."
"I thought it was Bill and Fleur who had the fiery relationship?"
"Oh, yeah," he agreed, cheerfully. "Fred and George are starting to take bets on whether or not Fleur will end up walking down the aisle. Or if she'll just keep walking and and not stop at the altar," he joked. Shaking his head again, he continued, "Although Ginny joked the other day that maybe Gabrielle and Ron would be standing by, ready to fill in for them if that happens."
He opened his mouth to add something else, but shut it abruptly as he realized that Hermione's face had gone suddenly still and white.
"Oh, hell, Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, his freckled face turning a brighter shade of red. "I just thought that you and Ron had-" He broke off, and gestured helplessly with his hands.
"We did," she said, swallowing hard. "We decided it was never going to work, and we're just fine being friends," she insisted. "It's just that-I had seen it in the paper, but-" She shook her head, looking confused. "But her sister's just a kid!"
"Well, she always looked like one," he agreed. "Seems that Veela blood keeps a girl unnaturally small and young-looking until, until she-" By now the deep scarlet of his face would have put the Gryffindor rubies to shame. "-blossoms," he finished, lamely.
Hermione found herself giggling loudly, in an almost hysterical manner for a moment. "So she has 'blossomed' then?" she asked, rising to her feet and dislodging a surprised cat from her lap. "And no doubt Ron and all the other males within visual proximity have noticed."
Charlie was struggling to his feet as well. "Oh, cripes, Hermione," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't have said anything, but I just figured that Ginny must have written to you."
"No, no, it's my fault," she said, reaching down towards Crookshanks, intending to apologize by petting him again. But the cat drew back reproachfully, not quite ready to forgive her transgression of having unceremoniously dumped him from his spot. "I purposefully told everyone not to write to me this summer and this is my reward." She smiled and shook her hand. "Seems as though I have quite a lot of catching-up to do."
Charlie still looked absolutely mortified, but before he could say anything else their was a high-pitched squeal, and they both turned to look in the direction from whence it had came.
"Professor Granger!" The voice was loud and absolutely delighted.
"Dobby!" she answered, and even if she hadn't been anxious to conclude her conversation with Charlie, she would have been hard-pressed to ignore the little house-elf. As usual, he wore a pair of brightly-colored and mismatched socks, but Hermione bent down and squinted as she tried to fathom what on earth he was wearing on the rest of his body.
"Does the Professor see?" he asked, bouncing up and down happily on his little feet. "Dobby has never forgotten all the wonderful clothes that you knit for him," he assured her.
Blinking rapidly, she realized that he was somehow managed to sew the hats and socks that she had spent the better part of her Fifth year knitting into a weirdly thick, but colorful and soft toga-like outfit. "I see," she said slowly. Behind her, she heard the muffled sound of laughter as Charlie surveyed both of them.
"Dobby has heard that Professor Granger would come back to Hogwarts today and is wearing this in honor of your return!" he cried.
"So you don't normally dress this way," she said, as she straightened up.
"Oh, no, Professor, Dobby has lots and lots of clothes to wear now!" he assured her.
"Good!" she said, pausing to throw a wink in Charlie's direction. "Do you happen to know where my rooms are, Dobby?" she asked, bending down to retrieve her package and briefcase.
"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, leaping forward and snatching up the parcels before she could reach them. "Dobby knows, and has seen that all of your trunks have been taken there already. Dobby will show you the way now and get the Professor's cat some cream," he offered.
At this, Crookshanks purred loudly.
"A dish of water and some food will be fine," she said.
Crookshanks turned and gave her an annoyed look before bounding after the already rapidly-retreating figure of the house-elf.
"See you at dinner, then!" called Charlie.
She turned and smiled back at him, thankful that the momentary awkwardness had disappeared. "All right," she smiled.
"And by the way, Hermione?"
She turned back to look at him.
"Try not to make the rest of us new teachers look too bad by being perfect at everything right away?" he asked in a very serious voice as he raised his hands together in a gesture of supplication.
In response, she cheerfully stuck her tongue out at him.
"So where are we headed?' she asked, as she caught up to Dobby and Crookshanks again.
"The fourth floor, Professor," he answered, puffing slightly as he began to hop up the stairs. "There is a nice set of rooms there, close to the Gryffindor tower and the Headmistress said she hoped you would like it."
"I'm sure I will," she answered.
Indeed, she thought a few minutes later as she stood and gazed around her new quarters, they seemed to be wonderful. The bedroom itself was just a bit cramped, and she was already considering changing the bed from a four-poster to something a little less forbidding, hoping that it would make the room look more spacious. But there was a huge closet and the main sitting room was good-sized, airy and bright. The walls were lined with shelves and there was a large and ornately carved desk, which still managed to have the hint of a feminine touch to it. And in the corner there was a window seat topped with a set of plush cushions, and she could already imagine herself and Crookshanks spending many hours happily ensconced upon it as she read and graded papers.
She opened up one of the trunks and removed some essential items and by the time she had hung up some clothes and her new robes and arranged a few of her toiletries, Dobby had already returned carrying two ridiculously ornate bowls containing food and water. Placing them upon a thick mat underneath the sitting room's second window, he asked Hermione if there was anything else she needed. Assuring him that everything was perfect, she watched as he bounced out of the room again and then made her way to the bathroom. Deciding that she didn't have time to indulge in a shower or bath, she threw off her clothes and contented herself with a quick scrubbing of her face and upper body.
Hurrying to dress in fresh clothes, she debated for a moment about whether or not she should it was necessary to dress formally in robes. Charlie had been dressed in blue jeans and a casual, short-sleeved shirt, so she hoped it was not going to be egregiously casual for her to appear in the Headmistress' office in a demure summer dress. Shrugging the garment over her head, she smoothed it over her hips and decidedly that it appeared to be an acceptable compromise. She padded back to the sitting room and retrieved a pair of good sandals from the other trunk and then returned to her vanity to apply a quick coat of lipstick and to run a brush through her hair. Securing the wavy strands back into a ponytail, she nodded in satisfaction and then took in a deep breath and prepared to make her departure.
"You staying in here for awhile?" she asked. Crookshanks, who was perched by the open window, peering out of it as his ears twitched excitedly, didn't even bother to turn around at the sound of her voice. "All right, then," she laughed, "I shouldn't be gone long anyway."
As she closed the door behind her and turned down the hallway she found herself hoping that the staircase that Dobby had used to lead her to her room had not as yet decided to change its direction. As familiar as she was with Hogwarts, she had to admit that it would take a few more trips through this section before she felt absolutely comfortable. To her relief, the staircase had either remained in place or changed back again, and within a very short time she found herself standing before the gargoyle that stood guard over the Headmistress' office. It leapt aside obligingly as she pronounced the password, and she couldn't help but think that there was something almost feline in the way it moved. She wondered again just how much everything in Hogwarts was going to change with McGonagall in charge.
The big oak door seemed familiar enough, however, and she tried to ignore the fact that her heart was suddenly beating loudly as she knocked upon it.
"Come in!"
She opened the door to find McGonagall looking up from the desk that had previously stood within the Transfiguration room, while already rising from his seat and rushing toward her with a smile upon his tiny face was Professor Flitwick.
"Oh, we'd hoped you be in time for tea," he squeaked, shaking her hand enthusiastically.
Inwardly, Hermione breathed a silent prayer of relief that she had taken time to rid herself of her morning's rather large portion of liquid refreshments before venturing forth. Releasing Flitwick's hand, she moved to greet McGonagall, who had risen from her seat and strode around the desk to greet her. For a moment, she wondered if she was dressed too informally, for the Charms professor was wearing his traditional robes. As the Headmistress approached her, however, she noted thankfully that she was dressed simply in a white blouse and long plaid skirt.
"Yes, indeed," she said, extending her hand. To Hermione's surprise, she did not content herself with a simple shake, but clasped her left hand upon their entwined fingers as well and gave it an affectionate squeeze. And was it her imagination, or was there a hint of moisture in those green eyes?
"I am most delighted that you accepted my invitation to return to Hogwarts to teach," she said simply, releasing her grip.
She gestured toward a small oval table near the window, upon which stood a tea service and several platters filled with sandwiches, cakes and other delicacies. "Shall we begin?" she suggested.
For the next few minutes, they busied themselves with the pouring of the tea and the filling of their plates.
"Not that anyone every doubted that you would someday return as a professor, my dear" proclaimed Flitwick, who paused to charm an additional cushion onto his chair to ensure that he could see over the tabletop. "Now, you don't mind if I call you Hermione, do you?" he asked, in a friendly manner. "Since we are equals, now?" he added.
"Oh, no, please do," she assured him, as she stirred the sugar into her tea.
"And from now on, I am Filius," he added, smoothing the napkin over his lap.
"Thank you," she said, "I'll do my best, but-"
"It will seem strange at first," finished McGonagall with a smile. "Believe me, I know," she said, adding honey to her own cup. "Therefore, I will allow you an occasional lapse during the first month or so," she continued, taking a sip of her tea. "But after that," she warned, setting it down, "There will be no excuse for not calling me Minerva."
"I'll do my best," she repeated, shaking her head ruefully as she took a small bite of her sandwich.
"Anyway, as I was saying, Hermione," said Flitwick, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "By the end of your first year here at Hogwarts, there had already been a spirited debate in the Staff Room regarding not if you should teach, but which subject it should be." He laughed and reached for his cup. "I regret to say that Minerva and I entered into a bet that should you choose Charms, she would have to pay me five galleons." Heaving a large sigh, he tilted his head to the side. "Instead, I found myself having to hand over that exact sum to the Headmistress this morning."
"Of course," added McGonagall, adjusting her square-rimmed glasses upon her eyes, "Your other instructors felt just as strongly. Even Binns allowed that, should he ever decide to leave his post, you were the only student who seemed even remotely capable of filling his shoes."
"Hmm," replied Hermione, feeling a slight warmth upon her cheeks. "But of course," she said, setting her sandwich down and reaching for her cup, "You don't expect me to believe that Professor Snape expounded upon my talents in potions."
To her surprise, Flitwick unexpectedly began to choke upon his beverage. "Perhaps not," he admitted, once he had managed to catch his breath again. "But-" He hesitated and shot a bemused glance in McGonagall's direction.
"But I was very close to asking you to please consider teaching Potions instead of Transfiguration," she said, bending over to pour some fresh tea into Flitwick's cup.
"Before Professor Snape rescinded his resignation?" she asked.
"I see you have been talking to Hagrid," said McGonagall, the ends of her mouth curling up slightly.
"Well, yes," she admitted.
"We were very lucky, very lucky indeed that Severus reconsidered," murmured Flitwick.
"Couldn't you find anyone to replace him?" Hermione asked.
"No one who was even remotely qualified was interested in the position," clarified McGonagall. "It seems," she said sitting back in her chair, "That for some strange reason, very few of the Hogwarts graduates of the past fifteen years or so were very eager to pursue the subject once they left these walls." Her lips twitched upward again and Hermione had to keep from smiling herself as she realized the inference of her words.
Of course, since Snape had been teaching, the students had been roughly divided into two groups: Slytherins who received passing grades no matter who abysmally they performed in class, and the rest of the student population who were regularly chastised, belittled and bullied until only a very few could even tolerate the sight of a cauldron.
"But, since he reconsidered-" McGonagall began, only to be interrupted by the sudden appearance of an owl through one of the high, open windows of the office. The bird appeared to be in a great deal of hurry, for it landed upon the arm of the Headmistress' chair and held out its claw quite impatiently. She had barely managed to remove the small note when it fluffed its feathers and then hurried back out the window, completely ignoring the treat that Professor Flitwick had held out in his tiny fingers.
"That's rather strange behavior," said Hermione, frowning at the window through which the bird had departed.
"Well, I believe," said Flitwick, placing the tidbit back upon the side of his dish, "That it is Professor Sinistra's owl, so perhaps it has only flown from the Astronomy tower. She was also due back today, was she not, Minerva?"
She nodded her head in reply as she unrolled the piece of parchment and smoothed it out upon the table to read it. By the way her mouth thinned out as she read, they could only deduce that the news it contained was quite unpleasant.
"Something wrong?" Flitwick asked.
Pursing her lips in a most disapproving manner, McGonagall handed the paper to him.
"Oh, my!" he cried after a moment.
"Bad news?" asked Hermione, anxiously.
"Well," allowed Professor McGonagall, accepting the parchment back from Flitwick, who was frowning down at his plate. "Rather unexpected, shall we say."
Hermione felt suddenly uncomfortable, feeling that perhaps the news, whatever it was, concerned matters that were too confidential or too sensitive to discuss in front of her. "Perhaps I should go," she offered, moving to place her napkin on the table.
"No, no, my dear, not at all," cried Flitwick, suddenly bright and cheerful again as he sprang down to the floor. "I know that Minerva and you have things to talk about, and I have many things to attend to myself. I will look forward to seeing you at dinner," he called over his shoulder as he hurried out the door.
A moment later the door had clicked behind him and Hermione turned to look quizzically at the Headmistress.
"It appears," she began sitting back and tiredly removing her glasses, "That Professor Snape has asked Professor Sinistra to assume the role of Head of Slytherin House."
Hermione felt her jaw dropping open with surprise. "But-but," she offered, in a shocked tone of voice as she struggled to make sense of this pronouncement. Taking in a deep breath, she collected her thoughts. "In the first place, I didn't even know that she was a Slytherin," she began.
"Yes, she is the only other staff member at the moment who was a member of that house during her school years," said McGonagall, pinching her nose for a moment before replacing her glasses. "Though that is not, strictly speaking, a requirement for assuming the duties." Seeing Hermione's surprised expression, she continued. "As a matter of fact, Neville Longbottom has already agreed to accept the role of Head of Hufflepuff House this year."
She blinked again in surprise and then reached out to pick up her teacup, sipping at the liquid as she turned these unexpected developments over in her brain. She had always assumed that only former house members were eligible for the positions when they came available, but no one had actually come out and said it was an absolute rule. On the other hand, she had to admit that Neville would be surprisingly fair-minded and undoubtedly well-liked in the position once the shock wore off. He had proven himself to be remarkably resourceful and courageous during the war, earning the grudging respect of all the houses.
"But," she continued, "I must admit that Slytherin House has never had a non-Slytherin as its head."
"Well, in the second place," Hermione sputtered, "I mean she's a wonderful teacher, but-" She hesitated and took a swallow, wondering just how honest she was allowed to be.
"Go on," McGonagall urged.
"She stays up in her tower all the time," she finished. "I mean, how's she supposed to be prowling the halls and watching the students and taking off points and-" She stopped and swallowed again. In other words, how was she supposed to take Snape's place?
She glanced back at McGonagall's face and found, to her surprise, that she was smiling sadly.
"Yes, it does seem quite out of character for Severus to relinquish that power, doesn't it?" Picking up the piece of parchment, she opened it up and frowned as she quickly scanned again. "But, as long as Professor Sinistra has agreed to it, I am afraid there is little I can do to interfere." Sighing heavily, she tossed the parchment to the table. "And I sincerely doubt that Professor Snape is in any mood to discuss the situation with me."
Pushing back from the table, she rose from her chair and began to slowly pace up and down. "You know, Hermione, that Severus and I have always had a fragile relationship at best," she said. "He was a brilliant but difficult student, and I confess that the outright hostility between him and some of his contemporaries made it difficult to remain neutral in their disagreements. Looking back, I can see that there were times when my own prejudices combined with Severus' natural surliness may have compromised my judgment, making me favor other students more than I would like to admit." She paused to and stared down at the floor for a moment before raising her eyes back to Hermione's face. "And once he became Head of Slytherin, the antagonism between us only continued to grow. Not that I will admit to being the only guilty party in that regard."
Sighing again, she walked back to her desk chair and seated herself. "I sincerely believed that when he stormed out of this office that day after giving his resignation, that he would never return."
Hermione slowly turned her chair to face the desk. "Why did he return?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not quite sure," she admitted, shaking her head. "But when I received his letter, inquiring as to whether or not his former position had been filled, I knew that Albus would never forgive me if I turned him away." Clasping her hands in front of her, she allowed another small smile to flit across her lips. "Along with the fact that I truly had not found a suitable replacement, if course."
"However," she continued, sitting back in her chair. "I could also not deny the fact that many of the things he had told me that day were absolutely true. I had been preferential to the Gryffindors in the past, and I was continuing to do so now." She studied the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "Oh, of course I had the excuse that the war had left few people capable enough to teach, plus I did want to surround myself with people I knew well and trusted. And yet-" She lowered her head and looked Hermione directly in the eyes. "If I had heard Severus make the same claim, I would have been highly skeptical that it was anything other than blind House prejudice was influencing his decisions."
Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully. "Hagrid told me some of what went on that day," she said slowly. "But I got the definite feeling that my name might have been mentioned?"
McGonagall studied her carefully. "Are you sure you want to know?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Well," she said, looking down at her hands. "When I mentioned that he was desperately needed because I had no one else to teach Potions, he said something along the lines that there was 'a certain little know-it-all Gryffindor who would be ecstatic to show off her expertise in any scholastic field'."
"I see," she said, studying the ground for a moment.
"It's rather a compliment, you know?" she asked, gently. "At any rate, it was certainly nicer than his parting comment to me when I asked him to reconsider his decision, for the sake of the school."
Hermione raised her eyebrows and waited.
"Well," said McGonagall, clearing her throat. "Let us just say that he advised me that, as far as he was concerned, I could take the entire school and place it within a very confined space within my body."
"Oh!"
"And he did not suggest performing a shrinking spell before I attempted it," she added dryly.