Smoke

Smoke V Monday, September 2, 1997

Professor Russell stood in a corner of his classroom, watching. One step would bring him into the visual fields of his students, but the distraction field he was standing in was a strong and well-established one. Despite the fact that the students were well-aware of the use of runes and symbols to create such a field, they could never detect this one.

The original fifteen students of three years before were now whittled down to nine: Hermione Granger from Gryffindor; Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin; Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff; and Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Su Li from Ravenclaw. Russell saw Granger sit in her usual seat in the front right desk. When he saw Malfoy circle towards her, he prepared to step out of the zone of protection. The students would think he had appeared at the doorway when he did so.

"How's Potter's nose this morning, Mudblood?" Malfoy hissed. Granger ignored him, which made Malfoy shout, "Your superior is talking to you, you filthy Mudblood cunt!"

"That will be fifty points from Slytherin and two detentions, Mister Malfoy," Russell stated as he appeared in the room.

Malfoy reared up, glaring. He raised his finger and started open his mouth.

"If you say one more word out of turn in this classroom all year, you will out of this class," Russell said coldly. "And unless you intend to do something with that finger, I suggest you get it out of my face." He leaned close and said very softly. "I believe you were at home when your mother got the little souvenir of your old Quidditch captain when it came almost two weeks ago."

Draco's pale face went several shades paler. "I have my eye on you, Malfoy. I would happily do the same to you as I did to the Flint brothers. And if I decide to, neither your Head of House nor the Headmaster could protect you. Remember that."

It was a very shaken Draco Malfoy who took his seat. He would report this to the Dark Lord and perhaps to Snape. Sometime, somewhere, Draco would get his revenge.

Russell took his place at the front of the class as if nothing had happened. "Good morning. Welcome back to another year of Runes, Symbols, and Languages. You have all proven yourselves in the basics, have all learned the three basic magical languages of western Europe and six standard languages, and earned at least an E on your O.W.L. Well done."

"This term, you will be learning one to three more languages through magical learning. We will also continue the basics of enchanting items through written charms and symbols. Next term, some of you may be learning more languages, and you will finally enchant an object, something all of you have been interested in learning."

Russell handed out notes with the languages approved for each student. He saw Malfoy scowl at the mere two languages he was approved to learn for that year (ancient Briton and Old Irish) but ignored it. He saw Granger glace at her note, but she made no further indication about what she had read. "Everyone open The Book of Nilic House Curses, page sixty, please. Mister Malfoy? Could you please read the first six lines, then translate?"

It was only then that Granger looked at her note a second time:
Requested Languages, 1996-1997 Academic Year
Old Irish, Ancient Briton, Celtiberian, Spanish, Coptic

Suggested Languages, Autumn 1996
Old Irish, Ancient Briton, Sanskrit, Tibetan, Spanish

Suggested Languages, Spring 1997
Yoruba, Ibo, Haitian Creole, Portuguese, Carib

And underneath the printed suggestions, there was a hand-written message: Stay and speak with me after class.

Draco Malfoy hurried from the class as soon was it was possible. Hermione was therefore able to stay without anyone really noticing. "You wanted to see me, Professor Russell?"

"Come into my office, Miss Granger," he invited. Unlike some professors, Professor Russell rarely invited students into his office. This was only Hermione's third visit.

"Have a chair," he suggested. "You may wonder why, if I am suggesting you take ten languages instead of five, two of your choices were not among them."

"Yes, sir. Celtiberian and Coptic."

"Both of which are useful languages when studying antiquities, but of little other use. Tell me, what is your relationship to Harry Potter?"

"Sir?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"I am a member of the Order, Miss Granger. You are close to Mister Potter. Do you know what that will imply this year?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "I may even know more than you."

"You may indeed, in some aspects. Let me tell you, Miss Granger, neither Celtiberian nor Coptic are likely to be of much use to you or to Mister Potter, at least compared to the other languages I have suggested."

Hermione looked torn.

"Tell me, Miss Granger. Are you Harry Potter's friend, or are you prepared to become a companion of the next White Warlock?"

Hermione looked pained. "Harry will have to become the flipside of a Dark Lord, won't he?"

"I believe so. That is about the only title the press haven't bestowed on the poor boy. Still, that is what it will take, even if we call him 'The Chosen One'."

"And these languages will help more than our learning new hexes or something?"

"Potter will likely be learning those from the Headmaster, Miss Granger. You have the chance to learn things Potter cannot. The Sanskrit and Tibetan, I believe will become very important, sooner or later. The others. . . ."

"Yoruba, Ibo, Haitian Creole, Portuguese, Carib. . . ." Hermione mused. "Voodoo?"

"That might also be necessary. Voldemort is using the dead and werewolves. At least you will be able to research the first."

"And the Tibetan and Sanskrit?"

"Not until after Harry has learned what the Headmaster must teach him, and Harry passes it on to you," Russell answered. "However, you may need this."

Hermione took the slip of paper, looked at it, and then looked at it again. "An open pass to the Restricted Section? For the year?"

"You may take out any book you want, and have up to three out at any given time," Russell said simply. "Use it well."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"This is not likely to be a happy year, over all. Good luck, Miss Granger."

Hermione stood. "And to you, sir."

At that point, Severus Snape burst into the office, breathing heavily. "If you will excuse us, Miss Granger?" Russell said calmly.

Hermione fled the office.

"Did you threaten Draco Malfoy? And how dare you give him detentions. . . ."

"For calling Granger a quote 'filthy Mudblood cunt' unquote and threatening me?" Russell stood up straight and went nose to nose with Snape. "I've had it with Death Eaters and Junior Death Eaters! That little shite has taken the Dark Mark, and you know it! For some reason, the Headmaster still thinks he can be saved and so do you. Fine. It's time he learned that he does not get a free ride."

"If I treated Potter that way. . . ."

"It would be an improvement!"

"If you kill Malfoy, if you even harm him. . . ."

"Then I will have to kill you, too? I will, Severus, if I have to. Don't force me, and make certain that Malfoy does not force me to, either."

"You soul is becoming as scarred as my own, John," Snape said. "Beware."

"I won't say that a soul is not injured by taking a life," Russell admitted. "I have not taken a life in hate or anger. I have not tortured. I would have to kill how many in hate or anger to equal you? I would have to treat Malfoy as I did today every class for twenty years to equal the hate you have thrown at Potter and his friends. I cannot deny I am on the same path as you, Severus, but you are far, far, far further down that lane than I am, despite the age difference between us."

Snape nearly hyperventilated before he managed to calm down. When he had, he demanded, "Why only allow Draco two languages?"

"I see no reason to give him more tools," Russell said simply.

"At least add Spanish and Classical Greek," Snape asked.

Russell thought. "If he does well with the first two this term, then he may add those two next term," Russell finally said.

"You are not making my job any easier, John," Snape said in nearly a growl.

"I have 'made your job easier' as well as the Headmaster's over the past five years, doing things the way Dumbledore wanted me to do before this summer, and where are we? At war. As far as I'm concerned, this is an unnecessary war. You coddled the Slytherins and what do we have? A sixteen year old Death Eater! We all suspected that wasn't Moody well before the Third Task. We could have stopped Crouch before he booby-trapped the Cup and then Voldemort would either still be disembodied or weaker than he is."

"The Headmaster believes that having used Potter's blood, the Dark Lord has tied himself to Potter in ways no one understands, and that this will be a weakness."

"Yes, if Voldemort kills Potter, it may also destroy his current body, and perhaps the part of his soul still inside it instead of enabling him to make another Horcrux. However, if all the Horcruxes have not been destroyed, however many there are, that won't matter, will it?"

"No, it won't," Snape admitted. "Still, that's why I was so glad to hear that the Master still wants to destroy Potter himself. That means he is planning at least one more, and that is almost good news."

"True. Now, you had best tell Malfoy to behave around me. If he can't behave in front of me and his classmates, your other Master will have him gutted for fun when he acts that way with the Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy is irrelevant to his plans. Voldemort is a Half-blood, just like you. He claims to adore the old Pure-Blood families, but he treats them worse than his Half-blood followers, and you know that's true."

"Maybe. . . ." Snape mumbled.

"Now, why are you really in such a worse mood than is usual at the beginning of term?"

"If the Headmaster does not wish you to know. . . ."

"I have a good idea of most of his plans, although of course not all of them, let alone the details," Russell interrupted. He suddenly frowned. "What was it he was mumbling to you about the other night? Something about a book that you and Lily Potter. . . ."

"Lily Evans, if you please," Snape snapped.

"Ah. . . ."

"It was never like that," Snape said defensively. "I never admired her as a woman or as a witch for that matter. She was merely the only person I have ever met who understood the underlying principles of Potions as much as I."

"Not even the Slug?" Russell asked.

"Slughorn is a magnificent brewer," Snape admitted. "Give him a formula, and he can mix a potion perfectly almost every time, perhaps as well as I can. However, he can't usually see how to improve the potions, because he doesn't have an intuitive or imaginative grasp of how the ingredients interact in new combinations. That was something, the only thing, that Evans and I shared. He had us work together for seven years. We found many ways of improving the basic potions we were being taught."

"And?"

"And I annotated my books with our ideas," Snape admitted. "My mother's old books, to be totally honest."

"And?"

Snape frowned. "And the Headmaster has arranged for that book to fall into Potter's hands today, although Slughorn won't realize the significance of what he's doing. Since Potter has some of the worst characteristics of both his parents, he will follow the alternate suggestions without thinking and thereby become the most brilliant potions brewer in his class. And what has he done to earn this? Nothing!"

"That may be true, but I can't imagine Dumbledore arranging this just to boost Harry's performance in Potions," Russell pointed out.

"He wants the Slug to dote on Potter for some reason," Snape said with a revolted look on his face.

Russell understood some of Snape's reasons for being in a foul mood, then. What he said, however, was, "Just remember one thing, Severus. Potter does not have the range of hexes you likely did when you were his age, but he has more raw power. Bait him too much in Defense next period, and I might be scraping you from the walls."

"I can handle Potter," Snape said with a final sneer, flouncing from the room to take his first class with the Sixth years.

'Handle him wrong, and you may find the Curse of the Defense Position is still active,' Russell thought. He went back to his classroom, where the Third year students would be coming soon for their first Runes class.

"Professor Russell, may I have a word before dinner?"

Russell stopped and forced a polite smile on his face. "Of course, Madam Pince. What may I do for you?"

"Did you really give this to Miss Granger?" She held out the pass to the Restricted Section.

"Yes, I did. I know it is more than highly unusual, but there are special circumstances. If you feel the need, please feel free to record what she takes out and forward them to both the Headmaster and to myself."

Pince thought a moment. "Very well, Professor. I shall do so."

*** Monday, September 16, 1996

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

"Good evening, Professor Russell," she said worriedly. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Any time, Miss Granger." Russell looked at her. "You look conflicted."

"I am," Hermione admitted.

"Let me guess. There are several things which concern you, and at least some of them are not your secrets, but Mister Potter's and the Headmaster's. Mister Potter was either sworn to secrecy or allowed only to tell you and perhaps Mister Weasley. You don't want to tell his secrets, but are afraid of what's going on."

"Exactly," Hermione admitted.

"The Headmaster asked me to give this to you." He handed Hermione a sealed note.

Hermione opened it and read:

Dear Miss Granger:

We have entered very perilous times. While I trust fully Professor Russell, I cannot give you full discretion to disclose everything Harry tells you from our conversations at this time. You may consult with him about Harry's affairs in general terms, or upon any other matter as you wish. This proscription lasts until the end of this academic year, unless I renew it or tell you that you may freely consult with him before then.

As I ask that you keep Harry's secrets from Professor Russell, for at least the moment, so I must ask that you keep the details of Professor Russell's aid from all others.

No member of the Order fully knows all of what other members know, and that must apply to some extent to you and Harry as well. In the matter of Harry's training, you may speak of it only in indirect terms with Professors Russell and Snape. It is they I appoint to help Harry directly should anything happen to me. Similarly, if there is some problem which you feel the Staff or the Order needs to be made aware of, go to Professor McGonagall, or if she is not available, to one of the other Heads of House for the former and Remus Lupin or Professor Snape for the latter.

You may show this note to Professor Russell.

Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

Hermione handed Russell the note. He read it and handed it back. "Having read that, what may I help you with, Miss Granger?" He smiled. "Take your time."

Hermione frowned in thought for almost two minutes, then she said, "Which language should I learn first?"

"I would like you know Sanskrit and Tibetan before Halloween."

She nodded, unsurprised. "I shall have to write home for the money for the extra languages." Magical language learning took an intense weekend of spells and potions, and was not cheap.

"All the languages have already been paid for," Russell told her. "The money for the others is in a Gringotts' vault?"

"Yes, sir." Her parents maintained a small vault for her, since it earned them a better exchange rate, and their own bank could make direct deposits for them.

"Then keep it there. You may need it."

"May I ask where the money came from?"

"Did you know that most magical income comes from the Muggle world, and that it is very under-taxed, compared to Muggle wealth?" Russell asked.

"I did," Hermione said. "I wish more Pure-Bloods remembered that."

"So do I. Now, my paternal Muggle-born ancestor was born in 1314. His father was a tinsmith, although most of the other Muggles in the family were involved with the wool and cloth trade. While the Muggles would not discover the New World or trade in sub-Saharan Africa for almost two more centuries, the Magical world was already exploring the first and trading with the second. The so-called Black Death concentrated wealth in some of the Muggle urban families that survived it. He invested his share of his Muggle inheritance wisely. His investments have been prospering, dividing, and expanding, with some wise additional investments, for over six hundred years. I assure you, paying for your languages, and buying you that stack of books over there, hasn't made any real dent in this year's dividends."

Hermione was speechless.

"Mister Potter is facing at least one difficult task, perhaps many," Russell said. "The Headmaster and I disagree about how to best prepare him. I am currently allowed to help him only by helping you."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said in a small, worried voice.

"Here," Russell said, his hand out. "I meant it when I said you may come to me for help on anything."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking at the small oval black stone.

"Touch it with your wand, and I will know you need something important. Keep holding it in your left hand, and you will be directed on where to come, if I can see you."

"Thank you, sir. I hope we won't need it."