Socius Criminis

Chapter 2: Breaching The Mind's Barriers

Morning lessons. Break. More lessons. Lunch. Hermione was used to this pattern already, so unlike most new professors she was into the swing of things quite quickly. Well, as quick as you can be when you're 21 years in the past.

The second years hadn't been too bad, Hermione recalled, but fifth years had proved that hormones really are evil personified. Not only that, but thanks to not eating breakfast Hermione was starving throughout the lesson and consequently made a not-so-good impression on the students.

Hermione paced around the room nervously, waiting for her next class to enter. Seventh years. Dumbledore had warned her about them, not that she needed much warning. Not only were Gryffindor and Slytherin a particularly lethal combination normally, but this class was renowned (and indeed Hermione despaired over the fact) for containing Sirius Black. The door clicked, and as Hermione drew a sharp breath, the class entered.

"Be seated quickly please," Hermione commanded, and the class quietened down slightly; becoming wary that this new Professor was not one to be taken lightly. They had heard the rumours about how she had treated the fifth years. However, there was no harm in playing games with the new teachers - they always had a weakness somewhere. She stalked around the classroom, surveying the students as she introduced herself. "My name is Professor Granger. I will be teaching you Potions from now on." Hermione paused at a table as a snigger broke through the class. Hermione stopped, her heels thudding on the stone floor. The class fell silent.

"Mr. Black, you will soon learn that Potions is not a lesson to be fooled around in," Hermione warned, leaning over his desk. "I don't know what it was that you and Mr. Potter were conversing about, nor do I particularly desire to know, however-" she said, leaning back, "you must understand that I will not be lenient." Hermione walked back to the front of the class. "This year you are taking your NEWTs, a very important period in your lives. I doubt that I need remind you how much NEWTs are valued in the Magical community." Taking her wand from her pocket, Hermione muttered a phrase and words began to appear on the board behind her.

"This lesson's topic," she said, smiling grimly in remembrance, "is Polyjuice Potion. This is an ongoing project as it takes a long period of time to prepare - about a month, to be exact." A groan came from within the students. "Please, Mr. Black, do contain your enthusiasm for this topic," Hermione sneered. She was not in a good mood. She paused, mouth half open, as she saw a hand in the air. "Yes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at actually getting a response from the class.

"Please Professor, isn't this potion rather advanced for us?" Hermione nodded, smiling at being asked a sensible question from a hormone-crazed teenager for once, even if it was a teenager that would grow up to become her Potions teacher.

"Indeed it is, however this potion is the basis for many other potions and therefore it is imperative that you study it. I am aware that the recipe is located only in Moste Potente Potions, however I would appreciate it if you bypassed this fact for the time being." Hermione saw Sirius shoot his hand up, and quickly added to her response. "However that does not mean I will permit you to brew anything else from that book." Sirius dropped his hand and sulked. "Now, on with the potion. Does anyone know what Polyjuice Potion is used for?" A few hands waved in the air. "Yes, Mr. Lupin?" Hermione asked, leaning back against her desk.

"Polyjuice Potion is used to transform oneself into another person," he replied politely, and Hermione smiled.

"Correct, five points to Gryffindor. Now, get out your quills and parchment. I am going to dictate to you the recipe - don't charm your quill to take dictation from me, Mr. Black; I am afraid it will not work. I have an anti-dictation charm up in this room." Sirius returned to his sulk after a brief grasp of triumph. Hermione sat at her desk and began to dictate. "Ingredients: powdered bicorn horn…" Hermione paused, and looked up. "I don't suppose any of you know what properties the bicorn horn has in this potion?" she asked, expecting to receive blank looks across the board. Instead, a hand shot up. Just like me, Hermione thought to herself. Always knows the answers. "Yes, Mr. Snape?" Hermione asked as casually as possible.

"It is involved in the transfiguration process, Professor, but would be useless without the leeches in the potion." Hermione beamed.

"Ten points to Slytherin," she said, and continued dictating. She was around halfway through the method when she realised that someone was talking. As she stopped talking, Hermione rose and walked over to the middle of the class, where the noise was coming from. "Would someone care to tell me what the noise was about?" she asked, looking from Sirius to James to Remus and back to Sirius again. There was no response. Hermione walked over to Remus. "No information about your partners in crime?" she asked, glancing at James and Sirius. It was then that Hermione noticed Peter for the first time. He was sitting to the left of Sirius, and sniggering. Hermione's face darkened.

"Mr. Pettigrew…" she hissed. "The class clown, it seems. Ignoring Mr. Black, of course." Hermione looked down her nose at him. "I presume it was you that was talking?" Peter tried to control his giggling, and only did so when Hermione leant over the table to him. "I will not tolerate ignorance in my class, Pettigrew," she sneered, her bad mood getting the better of her. "What did you say, and who to?" Hermione's voice rose very slightly.

"I didn't say anything!" Peter cried indignantly. Hermione bit her lip in thought.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Please refrain from chattering in my class again." Hermione turned and walked back to the front of the class. She was two desks away from Peter when she heard his muttering.

"Stupid Slytherin know-it-all, now look what you've done." Hermione span round, and saw Peter sneering at Snape.

"What was that, Pettigrew?" she hissed. Peter cowered in his seat, sensing that now he had gone too far.

"Erm…" Hermione scowled.

"I thought so," she said. "A further twenty points from Gryffindor, and a detention with me - I will not stand to see good students put down in my lessons!" she commanded, her voice rising properly for the first time that lesson. Sirius leapt up, as did James.

"That's unfair!" they cried in unison.

"Mr. Black, Mr. Potter…do you wish to join your comrade?" she asked. They shook their heads, and she swept back to the front of the class, sitting down at her desk. "Good. Now may I continue my lesson?" Hermione did not wait for an answer to her question.

--

"I don't think I can do this, Albus," Hermione said, sitting down in the staff room. He looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet.

"From what I've seen of you, Hermione, there's not much you can't do." Hermione frowned, and he simply smiled. "I'm saying I don't believe you," he explained. Hermione looked at the floor.

"It's that horrendous Sirius Black, isn't it?" Minerva McGonagall sighed, walking into the room. "If I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times…" Hermione chuckled.

"It's a little different from my point of view," she said, looking up at Minerva, who nodded slowly.

"I suppose it is," she said, giving Hermione a sympathetic look. "Have you done any time travel before?" Hermione smiled at this.

"You'll ask me the exact same thing in a few years," she said, "when you give me a time-turner because I've applied for every lesson going in my third year." Albus chuckled. "Well, except Divination, I dropped that after hardly any of the course at all…"

"How terribly you, my dear," he said, causing her to snort in agreement.

"Being 'terribly me' landed me here, Albus. If it weren't for my research…"

"Research?" Minerva asked, helping herself to a cup of tea. Hermione nodded.

"I was researching the Instauratio Potion," she explained. Minerva gasped and almost dropped her mug.

"Wh-why? Why research such terrible Dark Magic?" she stuttered. Hermione sighed.

"I thought Albus explained this to you."

"Well, he did, but he didn't say-"

"Then you should know the answer to your question already," Hermione said, giving Minerva a slight stare before accepting the copy of the Daily Prophet that an owl was handing her. What she saw in the headlines did not surprise her - she saw it everyday back in her time. Deaths, murders, rapes…all the work of Voldemort's Death Eaters. Some of the students Hermione had taught that very day would soon be doing the same. All in the name of purification…getting rid of the inferior. Making humanity a worthy race.

"Surely we will not have to resort to delving into such darkness?" Minerva asked, having restrained herself for long enough.

"You'd understand if…when you'd lived when I have," Hermione whispered, and tucked her hair behind her ears to get it out of her face. "For now, take a look at this and see if you understand." Hermione tossed the paper onto Minerva's lap. "I'll see you at dinner," she muttered as she stumbled out of the room. Sometimes, Hermione thought to herself, even the most Gryffindor of us have to dabble in things we would rather not touch…

--

"Hermione?" Ginny called, returning home from work one intensely hot June day. "Herm?" she called again, looking first in the kitchen, then heading for Hermione's bedroom. Hermione was slumped over her desk, blood trickling in a thin line down her left arm. An open wound was shimmering in the light from the window. Hermione was unconscious. Ginny looked first for some sign of what had caused the wound - it was not too bad, perhaps an accident…no, she thought to herself, seeing the book Hermione was resting her head on. Taking it slowly from underneath her, Ginny read the cover.

Le magie de l'obscurité

Ginny was no expert in French, but she could tell what the book was without reading it. It felt evil. Everything about it was evil. Throwing the book on the bed, Ginny turned to tend to Hermione's wounds, a despair for her friend washing over her. Dark Magic was no longer a force; thanks to Voldemort's return it had almost become a disease. It overtook the body if the mind was not strong enough. Most of the time no one was strong enough. Thankfully, Hermione was.

--

The particular book had been destroyed. There were not many copies of it in existence - most Dark Arts training was passed from evil to evil. Hermione had learnt it only to help her understand how it worked - at least, that was what she told herself. Alas, within each human being is a desire, a lust for power. Eventually, if they are not careful, it will overtake them. Hermione was, is and will be one of the lucky ones. Some will not be so lucky, Hermione thought, walking down the corridor to her chambers. One in particular…

"Tempus," she whispered, reaching the portrait. It swang open and she walked in. Sitting down at her desk, Hermione scanned the bookcase for something that would take her mind off the detention she had to hold in a few hours. After the lesson Hermione had told Peter that he would meet her after dinner for his detention. She was not looking forward to it…she doubted that he was either. Her pale fingers swept deftly across the shelves, searching for the perfect volume for her miseries. Homesickness was kicking in now.

Class Of 1978, Hermione read. Twisting her mouth in thought, she slipped the book from the shelf and placed it on her desk. Within it were many pictures of the seventh years. Hermione recognized the type of book - it was a self-updating photo book, a yearbook of sorts. The first page contained the beginning of year feast, and was full of pictures of people eating, laughing…Hermione remembered that if you held your wand over a photo, you heard the people speaking. Hermione had her yearbook at home, but it was not much use to her there. It would only have made her feel more homesick, she reasoned, and turned the page.

The departure of her predecessor, Professor Gravis, was depicted here. A greying man with a scowl worthy of Lucius Malfoy was being bid farewell. He didn't look at all healthy, but Hermione had a feeling that he held that scowl most of the time, which would explain how Sirius felt that Hermione would be a pushover as a teacher. Taunt the new Professor was a game Hermione had frequently seen played in her time at Hogwarts, and needless to say she had not partaken in such trivial games. A smirk crept its' way across Hermione's face despite herself. So that was where Snape had learnt the sneer.

Before she noticed it, the sun had set. Checking her watch, Hermione saw that it was 8pm. Dinner would have finished by now. Sighing, she swept out of the room and walked down the corridor to her classroom. It was not far from the corridor on which her chambers were to the main stairway, so Hermione made it to the dungeons in good time.

"Mr. Pettigrew, I see you are early. Congratulations on using what little common sense you own," she drawled and unlocked the door to the room. Peter followed her in, but stopped as Hermione turned round. She reached out a hand and pulled at the air. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, how nice of you to join us." They looked at each other in shock, and then at her.

"How did you know we were-"

"My friend had one of those cloaks while we were at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. I have become adept at sensing the presence of people using it." They nodded. "Well?" Hermione said, after a pause. "Why aren't you going back to your common room?" Sirius nudged James and whispered to him. Hermione raised an eyebrow, ushered Peter into the room and shut the door behind her.

"You have good friends, Mr. Pettigrew," Hermione said, wandering over to her desk. "They seem to care a lot about you." Hermione leant back on the front of her desk. "Sit," she asked politely, and Peter did. "I'm not going to make you scrub the room clean, or reorganize the student stores…" Hermione stood up straight and began to pace around the room. "I'm going to tell you a story."

"A story, Professor?"

"Yes Mr. Pettigrew, a story. You see, I once knew this man - older than myself at the time, I was only 13 - who was a bit like you."

"A bit like me?"

"Yes…he had two friends who he depended on. They would have died for him. Do you know what he did, Peter?"

"No, Professor."

"He sold one of them to Voldemort and put the other one in Azkaban."

"Oh! But I'd never-" Hermione stopped at Peter's desk and pulled up a chair, staring at him.

"When I was in Hogwarts I said to myself that I'd never use magic for bad things, evil things. I wanted to be in Gryffindor so badly it hurt. When it came to my sorting, I thought I was doing quite well. Then the hat said to me that I had a thirst to prove myself, a thirst to know everything and succeed…through power."

Hermione paused, trying to see if Peter was getting her point. "Power, and the thirst for it, is a Slytherin trait, Mr. Pettigrew. The sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I pleaded with it, I wanted so badly to be good." Hermione looked at the desk. "The human mind is a fragile thing, Mr. Pettigrew, and it is easily corrupted…no matter how wilful we are. Do you understand?"

"I think so…" he replied. Hermione smiled.

"Good," she said.

"Professor?" Peter asked, as Hermione walked back to her desk.

"Yes?"

"What happened to that man you knew?" he asked. Hermione looked at him.

"I killed him," she said. "Just before I got the job here." Peter paled. Hermione smiled, a thin, curling smile. "Do not underestimate me, Mr. Pettigrew. That is where you and your friends have got it wrong. I am not to be toyed with. You should never insult those more intelligent than you because you believe it is unfair that they have all that intelligence to themselves and yet you have the normal amount." Peter looked up.

"Like Snape?"

"That's Mr. Snape, I believe. Or Severus, if you should ever dare be on first name terms with a Slytherin." Hermione walked to her desk and sat down, folding her fingers together and resting her chin on her thumbs. "We are all the same species, you know. Just the same. All equal." Hermione tilted her head. "You understand?"

"Yes Professor," Peter replied. Hermione looked at her desk.

"Your detention task is to clean the desks of graffiti, Mr. Pettigrew. Without magic."

"But you said-"

"I lied, Mr. Pettigrew. Like my friend who sold the only people who trusted him to Voldemort. He told lots of lies. Lies are okay, Mr. Pettigrew, but not the wrong sort of lies. You will find soap and water in the corner cupboard."

Hermione had made her first change to both history and the future. She had made an impression on her students.