Town and Gown

The second part of a Harry Potter/The Dark Is Rising series crossover. Consider this a birthday present--or rather, a gift in honour of--Will Stanton, who according to "The Dark Is Rising" was born on December 21st. Happy birthday, Will!

Oh, and just for clarification, anything within asterisks, *like this*, indicates telepathy or a mental conversation.

Standard disclaimers apply. Harry Potter, all related characters, and various media incarnations are copyright of the very talented J. K. Rowlings, Scholastic, and other international companies involved in its creation and distribution. Will Stanton and "The Dark Is Rising" series are both copyright of the wonderful Susan Cooper.

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Town and Gown By: Gramarye

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Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.

-- Carl Jung

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With a disgusted grunt, Hermione slammed her Arithmancy textbook shut.

Neville, sitting across the library table from her, started and almost fell out of his chair.

"Sorry," she muttered automatically. Ever since the lecture that morning, she'd been having a horrible time concentrating on any of her normal schoolwork. In class, she didn't worry much, because the rest of her classmates were even more distracted than normal. The teachers didn't notice that she wasn't raising her hand quite so often--they were too busy trying to keep the class focused on the lesson.

Compared to them, Hermione was her usual attentive, studious self.

Here, in the peaceful library with no one but Neville around, she had hoped to get some serious reading done. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stay focused. Her mind kept drifting back to the strange, frighteningly blank expression on Harry's face, and Professor Stanton's even stranger lecture.

It made sense to her, the connection between Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but she still found it disconcerting. Lumping almost everyone you knew outside of Hogwarts into one big group labeled "Muggle" was still difficult, even after four years as a witch. And to hear someone, who wasn't even a wizard--or at least said he wasn't--speak about Muggles in such candid terms was very unnerving.

Funny, that. She could endure Malfoy's daily taunts of "Mudblood" without a second thought, but she couldn't stomach a critical analysis of the weaknesses in the non-wizarding world.

It was nearly time for bed, anyway. No point in wasting more time in the library tonight.

She gathered up her books, and Neville hastily followed suit.

"Are you going back?" he asked.

"I suppose," she said, pushing her hair back from her face. "It doesn't look like I'll be getting much more done tonight."

He closed the open notebook that lay before him on the table. "Would you look over the notes for Potions with me before class tomorrow? Maybe I'll remember more if you help me with it."

"All right," she agreed, not really hearing him. The two of them pushed in their chairs and headed for the door.

Hermione stopped short just inside the door to the corridor, nearly causing Neville to run into her. Two people were talking in hushed tones right outside the library, but the slight echo in the stone corridors allowed her to hear their conversation clearly.

Recognizing one of the voices, she immediately shoved Neville back into the library, barricading the door with her body.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, trying to keep her voice low so Madame Pince wouldn't hear her. "I think I left my favourite quill on one of the bookshelves in the back. Neville, would you go and find it for me?"

Neville, ever ready to oblige the girl whose patient tutoring kept him on the near side of passing, nodded and hurried back to look for the missing quill.

Hermione watched him dart away, then pushed the door open just enough to keep it from squeaking. The quill in question was tucked safely in her pocket, as usual, but she had two important reasons for sending Neville off on a fool's errand.

"If it isn't the living legend--Will Stanton himself."

Snape's voice was unmistakable--Reason Number One. The frigid formality in it was also unmistakable--Reason Number Two.

She peered through the crack in the door. Despite the dim light and her awkward position, she could see both of the teachers as they stood in the corridor.

"Good evening, Professor Snape." Professor Stanton nodded courteously.

Snape did not return the greeting. "Is there a reason why you are still here?"

"It's been quite a while since I spent this much time in the world of magic," came the calm reply. "I've missed it very much. And pleasant company is always appreciated--I also miss the companionship of like-minded individuals."

"'Like-minded individuals'?" Snape repeated mockingly. Though her poor vantage point didn't allow her to see his face clearly, Hermione could almost hear his eyebrows raise. "You must be a bigger ass than I ever thought, imagining you'll find 'like-minded individuals' here. This is a school for wizardry, in case you've forgotten during your little sojourn among the Muggles."

"I doubt I could forget something like that so easily."

Hermione shivered. Listening to the two dark-robed professors talk was like watching two towering pillars of ice, both equally frozen and remote. Snape's voice, as sour as curdled milk, seemed to battle with Professor Stanton's even, disinterested responses. She shivered again, and pulled her robes closer to her body.

Then, without warning, everything was silent. Snape's lips still moved, but she couldn't hear anything--it was like watching television with the sound muted. Even the noise of other people walking down distant corridors had disappeared.

For a sick moment, she was certain she had gone deaf.

*I'm terribly sorry you have to witness this, Miss Granger,* said a quiet voice, cutting through the silence--and speaking inside her mind.

Hermione's head snapped up to stare at Professor Stanton. It had to be his voice, but she hadn't seen his lips move. Even now, he was still apparently listening to Snape, who from his tightly-controlled gestures and burning glare was well into a lengthy diatribe.

*What's going on? Who are you?* she asked, frightened at the intrusion into her head.

*A friend, I hope," he answered, sounding apologetic. "I spoke with Mr. Potter earlier today, during the lecture, and he mentioned your name as a potential contact. I had wished to speak with you alone, but unfortunately, it seems that these will be the only circumstances under which we can meet.*

*That's all right,* she replied with what she hoped was nonchalance, as if strange professors speaking directly into her mind and the minds of her close friends was an everyday occurrence. *I know what it's like to have problems dealing with Snape.*

*Professor Snape,* he corrected gently, making Hermione blush. *Your Potions Master and I tend to have...differing opinions on certain subjects. But what I said was true. I do enjoy being in the company of like-minded individuals--those who valiantly serve the cause of the Light, often at great cost to themselves. And you, Miss Granger, have proved yourself on more than one occasion to be equal to the task.*

This time, Hermione's blush was due to embarrassed and bewildered pride. *Thank you very much, sir.*

*Not at all.* Professor Stanton sighed. *Before you ask me the reason for this meeting, I should tell you that I am not here to reiterate everything you've heard before. You know the dangers you face well enough. I am here to remind you of something you might have forgotten. Both Mr. Potter and Headmaster Dumbledore asked me if I would be willing to do so...perhaps they thought it would be easier if an unfamiliar face....*

His voice trailed off, leaving the thought hanging.

*What is it? Is something the matter?* Hermione prompted.

*Your parents, Miss Granger.*

Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying out. *What about my parents? What's wrong?* she asked cautiously.

*Nothing, for the moment,* he said. *But what if that were not the case? Would you be able to accept the fact that your parents, average Muggles whose only contact with magic is through you, are in constant danger?*

The logical part of Hermione's brain idly wondered how Dumbledore could know so much without directly asking her--perhaps the rumor that he was clairvoyant really was true? She hadn't mentioned anything to Harry or Ron.

The rest of her brain, however, watched her soul shrivel up into a little ball, trembling as the worries locked away in the back of her mind burst free and flooded her body.

Professor Stanton paused, as if searching for the right words, and then continued. *You, I fear, are the only one whose family is truly vulnerable. And I would rather have you consider this now, when you have time to think about it and prepare for the possibility, than to leave you in ignorance and force you to make a horrible choice.*

Hermione felt hot tears welling up, and her eyes stung with the effort of keeping them from falling.

*I know,* she said miserably. *Ever since second year, I've worried about them. I prayed that they'd be all right, that they'd be safe because they were Muggles and didn't have anything to do with magic. But I've always told myself to stop being silly, that Ron and Neville and everyone else was worried about their families, too, and...and....*

She couldn't finish the sentence. Two tears tricked down her face, and she angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand.

*It is not silly, Miss Granger. Things are different with your other friends,* Professor Stanton said sharply. *Mr. Weasley's parents and siblings are well-versed in magic, able to defend themselves. Mr. Potter has no such worries...though I know he would give nearly anything to have a family to worry about. Mr. Longbottom's grandmother is a most...formidable lady, and she has lived through enough family crises to understand the risks. That is why I am offering you, and you alone, a choice.*

She blinked rapidly, fighting her tears and vainly trying to digest all the information at once. *Wh-what?* she stammered.

*The wizarding world needs people like you. Brilliant, energetic, fiercely dedicated--a welcome contrast to the stuffy old relics who vainly cling to the past. But you certainly can't stay focused on your studies if you are constantly worrying about the safety of your family. So, if you will trust me, I swear that I will do everything within my power to safeguard your parents' lives.*

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. *You'd protect my parents? Make sure that You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters don't hurt them?*

*If you will permit me.* His gentle voice slipped into the same speech pattern he had used for his lecture, pedantic and slightly ironical. *The Death Eaters, for all their power, restrict themselves to the established methods and practices of the wizarding world. Completely expected, of course, considering their opinions about everything remotely non-magical, but it does limit their options. There are other means of protection and defence, more ancient than the oldest spells, which they would not find so easy to overcome.*

*Really? Like what?* Hermione asked, her intellectual curiosity piqued by the topic of old, unstudied magic.

Professor Stanton didn't seem to hear her--or if he did, he chose to ignore the question. *All I ask in return is that you never lose your desire to learn, to expand your knowledge. Only in that way, through new ideas, will we ever triumph in the battle that should have been won long ago.*

It seemed too good to be true. Then again, receiving an owl-delivered letter of acceptance to a school for witchcraft and wizardry had also seemed too good to be true. *If Harry trusts you, then I trust you," she replied, her heart soaring.

*Excellent,* Professor Stanton said, sounding very satisfied. *I will keep you informed on any action I may take concerning your parents. They need never know about any of this...unless you choose to tell them.*

Hermione didn't know what to say. "Thank you" was certainly not enough, but what else was there to say? Nothing appropriate came immediately to mind.

She decided to avoid all flowery phrases entirely, and ask the question that had been bothering her ever since that morning's lecture. Something told her that Professor Stanton would prefer it that way, whether he answered her or not. *If I may ask, sir...who are you? I mean, if it's all right for me to know.*

He chuckled quietly. *If you truly want more answers, I recommend the book, "Ancient Legends of the British Isles"--tenth bookcase on your left, second shelf from the top. It is rather dry, and not the most comprehensive of explanations, but will be more than enough...until I see you again.*

*You will be coming back then? Back to Hogwarts?* she asked eagerly.

*Yes, Miss Granger, with any luck I will. Now, give me a few minutes to finish this discussion with Professor Snape, and then you and Mr. Longbottom can head back to your dormitory. I don't think either of you would want to run into him in his current state.*

"Are you listening to me, Stanton?" Snape's voice returned, the sudden jolt back to reality as unexpected as a douse of ice water.

"Of course," Professor Stanton said, blinking slightly. Hermione wondered if the abrupt return to normal speech was as jarring for him as it had been for her.

"The little parlour trick you performed today in lecture may have impressed the students, but not me. And as a result, you've added to my normal coursework--today's lesson was a disaster, thanks to you."

Hermione winced, remembering Neville's botched attempt at making the Pep Potion assigned for the day's class. Snape had forced him to drink the nasty-looking liquid, and Neville had only stopped belching blue and green bubbles shortly before dinner. No one else had come close to duplicating the mixture Snape had assigned, not even Hermione. Predictably, the Potions Master had dismissed them with double homework, and had left Neville in his unfortunate condition.

Professor Stanton, undaunted by the accusation, coolly maintained eye contact with Snape. "I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I was merely emphasizing a fact...one that both young and experienced minds would do well to remember."

The complete lack of irony or sarcasm in the response only seemed to anger Snape even more. "Leave this place, Stanton. There is nothing for you here," he choked out.

"You act as if I came in search of something," Professor Stanton said. "I did not. I have no interest in interfering with the normal workings of this school. However, we do happen to be on the same side--and the sooner you come to accept that, the better off we all will be."

Snape's jaw tightened, but he did not respond.

Professor Stanton bowed slightly, his cloak brushing the stone floor. "If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore in a few moments. Good night, Professor Snape."

Hermione didn't wait to hear the Potion Master's reply. She ran lightly through the maze of bookshelves, counting under her breath until she reached the tenth one. A breathless moment later, she had retrieved the desired book and dashed up to Madam Pince's desk.

"Can I have this one, please?" she said, thrusting the book under the librarian's nose.

Madam Pince gave her an odd look, but duly stamped the book and waved her away. Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned around to see Neville standing there, frowning puzzledly.

"I couldn't find it, Her--"

"Never mind," she said quickly, interrupting him and propelling him toward the exit with her free hand. "Let's head back."

Neville found himself being dragged back to the Gryffindor tower so quickly that his toes barely touched the floor.

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Gramarye [email protected] http://gramarye.freehosting.net/ December 21st, 2001