The Boy in the Attic

Chapter 3

Around noon on Saturday the owls had started coming in droves. Howlers by the dozen exploded their angry tirades into her living room, and she was forced to put a silencing spell on the room so the noise didn’t frighten Norton. By three o’clock, Hermione had lost sight of her sofa, so deep was the pile of letters; by six, Hermione had gotten so many paper cuts she’d lost count; and by eight, Moppy was finally able to come and help her sort.

“The Master is asleep, Miss.”

“Thank you Moppy,” Hermione replied, as she sat on top of a stack of letters. She had lost her last kitchen chair to the mess an hour before and the last time she tried to summon a chair to her she had ended up with paper cuts on her face. She tossed the letter in her hands into the wastebasket she had charmed to hold everything.

“Does Miss need Moppy’s help?” The house elf asked.

“Oh yes Moppy, that would be wonderful.” Hermione said, picking up the next letter from the pile. She tossed it into the bin as soon as she looked at the envelope and picked up another. “Is there any way you could help me sort these? Could you get the ones from Harry, the Weasleys, Hogwarts, the Ministry and work and put them in one pile, then throw everything else away?”

“Yes Miss,” Moppy replied. With a few clicks of her fingers, a wave of her hand, and a curious roll of the hips, Moppy sorted everything into two piles. Hermione suddenly felt her makeshift chair zip out from under her, only to be instantly replaced by one of the armchairs that had been buried in the mess. The rubbish pile took up almost a quarter of the room, and the important mail was in a small pile at Hermione’s feet. “Does the Miss want Moppy to throw away the bad mail?”

The sight of the mail sorted into piles almost made Hermione cry. “Oh, thank you Moppy, and yes, if you could.”

“You is welcome Miss.”

Hermione went back to her letters as Moppy cleaned up. She picked up the first letter on the pile, the familiar stationary made Hermione’s fingers tremble as she opened it. “Oh!” She exclaimed as she read. “I’m not fired! They’re going to let me stay… but, I’m on probation.” Hermione muttered. She put the letter on the floor next to her, starting a ‘reply’ pile and chose the next one. It was from the Ministry.

Miss Hermione Jean Granger,

The Ministry Auror Council must inform you that serious accusations against you have recently been made. It is our duty to investigate the manner to the fullest extent possible in order to protect the public.

However, as there has been no physical evidence to backup these accusations, and as there is a respectable member of the Auror program supporting your cause, the Auror Council has decided to postpone the investigation into this case until the Minister himself is available to review it. You will be notified when the case is made active.

Thought the investigation is not currently active, the Council still finds it necessary to act in the best interest of the public. Until further notice, you are banned from leaving the country and some minor surveillance will be performed. Any use of spells of level 6 or higher (for full description of these levels please refer to chapter eight, article fifteen of the Council Doctrine) will be cause for intervention.

Sincerely,
Bernard Dunstan
Ministry Auror Council, 2nd Chair

Hermione sank back into her chair as she finished reading the letter, and let out a deep breath she did not know she had been holding. “I don’t know how Harry did it, but I love him for it.”

As if the universe had sensed the positive shift in her mood and was determined to ruin it another owl flew in through the kitchen window and deposited a letter in her lap. Apparently the author of the letter had not been content that the letter itself would showcase their anger, as the words ‘To Hermione Granger. BITCH!’ were scrawled violently across the envelope. With a screech that would have made a harpy proud, Hermione threw the letter in the waste bin and then set the whole thing on fire, for good measure. She put the blaze out quickly, but she still smiled in satisfaction as the last tendrils of smoke snaked their way up to the ceiling.

When she saw the scorch mark she had just caused in the carpet, however, she groaned and punched the arm of her chair. “These are going to be the longest six days in history.”

~~~
Sunday past in a similar fashion, the letters kept pouring in and Hermione kept setting them on fire. “Let the Ministry surveillance this,” she had growled as she sent another pile of mail ablaze.

It wasn’t until four o’clock that Hermione looked up from the pile of smouldering ash at her feet. Moppy stood about five feet away, watching Hermione warily. “You is out of the Master’s potion Miss, and he is saying his hands hurt.” The house-elf said as it clutched at the tea towel it wore.

Hermione swore. She had meant to brew more of Norton’s arthritis potion the day before but she had gotten so caught up with the mail that she had forgotten and it was too late to brew it now. She looked at her watch and grimaced; she would need to hurry if she wanted to get to the apothecary before they closed.

Hermione grabbed her cloak and her purse, pulled on her boots and was halfway out the door before terror gripped her. She was about to apparate into Diagon Alley that would likely be full of wizards and witches doing their Christmas shopping; wizards and witches who had read the Prophet. Her hands gripped the door and she closed her eyes, trying to build the courage to continue. “His hands is hurting him Miss,” Moppy said from behind her.

That stiffened her resolve and a few moments later Hermione was standing in front of the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. It was right next to the Leaky Cauldron so there was more traffic around her than there was in other areas of the alley. Hermione silently ‘thanked’ whoever had designed the wizarding fashions as she donned her hood. With her hood up Hermione did not look out of place as she might have in muggle London, and her face was mercifully hidden from her fellow shoppers.

Because of all the people it took a minute for her to get close enough to the Apothecary to read the sign out front, and when she did she cursed under her breath. She had forgotten that they closed early on Sundays, and if they did then the Apothecary in Hogsmeade was most likely closed as well. The only shop that might be open was located in Knockturn Alley, and Hermione really didn’t need to add to her already bruised reputation by being seen going into that part of town.

“This is for Norton,” she muttered under her breath, “for Norton.”

As quickly as she could Hermione made her way down the road towards Knockturn Alley. The going was slow because of the crowds, especially in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies and Madam Malkin’s, Hermione became more and more anxious with each passing second. She was being bumped and pushed so often that she was gripping her hood tightly in order to keep her face hidden. “Almost there, almost there,” she chanted as she finally got past Madam Malkin’s.

The crowd thinned a bit and Hermione allowed her shoulders to relax, loosening her grip on her hood as she stepped out of the herd of shoppers. She could see the entrance to Knockturn Alley, still as dark and dank as ever, she rejoiced as she knew there would be much fewer people in there. She relaxed a moment too soon, however because just as she brought her hands away from her hood a woman trying to balance one too many packages ploughed right into her and knocked her down.

“Oh, sorry!” the woman said before scurrying away into the crowd. Hermione started to stand and brush herself off when she noticed that people were staring at her. She grabbed for her hood, knowing it was too late, that she had been seen, and looked around frantically for a way to escape.

“Granger!”

“Horrid woman!”

“How dare you show your face, you bitch!”

“Is it true, what they said in the papers?”

“Filthy Mudblood!”

“No, it’s not true! None of it is true!” Hermione cried as the crowd rushed toward her, more coming every second as they tried to see what all the commotion was about. Someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged, while someone else delivered a hard kick to her shin. “It’s not true!” She shouted as she tried to get away but there were so many people around her it was impossible to move. She couldn’t apparate, if she tried she would risk either splinching or taking a few of them with her, but she couldn’t see another way to get out.

Just as she was loosing hope of getting out of there at all, a hush fell over the crowd. “What is going on here?” A familiar voice asked from behind the mob.

The person gripping her hair let go quickly as the crowd parted and Severus Snape came into view. “I believe I asked a question, and as many of you are my former students you should know that I expect an answer.” He took a few steps forward, causing the crowd to back away in fear, but paused when he spotted her. “Granger?”

Hermione gasped, she hadn’t seen him in almost three years and they hadn’t parted on very good terms. After the final battle the trio had returned to the Shrieking Shack, found him alive, and took him to St. Mungo’s. While he was unconscious and recovering from his wounds, Harry cleared his name and when Snape woke he was a free man. He stayed in the hospital for five months after he awoke and the entire time he was surly and downright unpleasant.

Hermione experienced that unpleasantness first hand when she had gone to visit him in hospital. She brought with her the vial of memories Snape had given to Harry, thinking he would want them back, but when she tried to give them to him, he went berserk. He accused her of looking at them, which she hadn’t, and refused to believe her when she tried to tell him so.

”You, Granger, are a silly little girl, and I know you would bend to the temptation in a second. Just to ease your rabid curiosity. So don’t come in here with your pity, it is neither wanted nor appreciated.” He growled at her from his hospital bed.

“And you, sir, are the most callous, bitter man the earth has ever seen.” Hermione yelled back. “I hope you take your… your snarkiness and choke on it!”

The visit had ended with him throwing her out and bruising her pride, and with her turning his bedside table into a badger. Not a pleasant visit at all, and now he was her only way out of the angry crowd.

Before she really had time to think, someone behind her pushed her forward, and she stumbled, running right into Snape. She grabbed fistfuls of his cloak to keep herself from falling and braced herself at the same time, waiting for him to push her away. But the push never came. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, a rather severe frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. He seemed to consider her for a second, his eyes as dark and unreadable as ever, before coming to a decision.

Without a word he grabbed her arm and apparated them away, leaving a stunned crowd behind them.


AN: To those of you who celebrate it, Happy Thanksgiving!
There will be a good bit of Snape in the next chapter. Hope you liked his entrance, parting the seas and all. :P
I know I said Harry and Ron would be in this chapter, but it was getting too long and I had other things I wanted to fit in. They will reappear later on, so worry not.

Also, if anyone is interested in being a beta for this story, please leave a review and I’ll get back to you. RL has not granted me with enough time to edit as much as I would like to, so any help would be greatly appreciated ( I know I can get a little crazy with those commas, they’re everywhere!)

And finally, thank you to my wonderful reviewers:
angelnomiko, neelix, LCDrusilla, Narcissas Sister, Sampdoria, Heidi191976, catysmom, RedWritingHood, Thisbe, SnapesPet30, jasmine