The Daughter of Sharina

Saturday, July 3

This is the diary of Hermione Granger - no.

My name is Hermione Granger, and this is my diary - nooo.

It doesn't matter what my name is, I'm just a teenager witch deep down convinced it is quite stupid to write a diary. Of course, had I not bewitched this notebook Mrs Weasley gave me last summer, I could delete all these silly entries with any cheap eraser. It seemed like a safe idea, at the time, to bewitch it to make it unreadable to anybody but me. I did not anticipate that the spell would make every word unreadable indeed, but also very permanent.

Mrs Weasley gave it to me with the best of intentions. She was worried about me: after what happened to Mr Weasley, my nightmares about snakes came back so frightening. She said it would have been beneficial, in her opinion, if I had a 'secret way to get those ghosts out of my soul.' Then, of course, during the whole school year I never wrote a word in it, so I did not find out, while at Hogwarts, that the Nonlegendum Spell had a draw back. And now I'm back home, so I can't fix it.

I can hardly wait to be an adult and so be able to be myself year round, not just in school. My nightmares would not keep me company all day long, as well as at night, if I could do something, like studying, instead of just waiting for summer to be over one more time.

We will be leaving for Greece in two weeks, and if I manage to avoid Chimaeras, Sphinxes and the rest of the local monsters maybe I will have some normal fun with my family, for a change. My parents wanted to go on this trip with me already last year, but then, with all that happened, I stayed at home only less than a week. I'm not writing about it because who knows, maybe somebody could manage to read it anyway.

They feel left out of my life much more and sooner than it would happen, hadn't they had a witch for daughter. I'm sorry, but there is so much I cannot tell them. I will try to make up for all the white lies of these last five years. I will let Mum teach me things I never studied about Greek history, architecture and, well, maybe folk tales about legendary monsters like Chimaeras and Sphinxes, for example ...

See, it is not all that difficult to write.

Now, Mrs Weasley said I should write about my nighttime 'friends'. This way I can read back and, in her opinion, put things in perspective, making them less frightening.

See, as soon as I try, writing becomes a lot harder.

Dad would suggest being scientific. He means detached and impersonal. Why not? For example I could begin by classifying my nightmares:

Then, I could move on to analysing ...

After my too close encounter with Salazar Slytherin's Basilisk, for a long time I had two big yellow eyes popping out in my dreams, in all the unlikeliest of places. I would feel cold, so cold, and whatever I was dreaming would disappear, engulfed in darkness without hope. Then I would wake up frightened, angry about being frightened and scared about the anger, which seemed to be way too much; like in my dream I was the Basilisk, deprived of his prey, not its victim.

Mrs Weasley might have a point here: writing makes things clearer and helps explaining things to oneself. Good.

After about a year or so the yellow eyes stopped haunting me and, thinking about it, never came back. What has returned, after Mr Weasley was almost killed by Vvvvv v vv v's snake, is mostly the anger. And the cold. Like I were a snake. A big, venomous and angry snake. Hungry, too. What a pity I cannot go to some 'shrink' and leave all the symbols of my tormented psyche to him to figure out. This diary will have to suffice.

Sirius' death. Sirius is dead and will never come back.

I can say it, I can write it, but deep down I still do not believe it.

Officially he is still a mass-murderer on the run. We must wait until we have proof of his innocence, to tell the world how much he has done, in the fight against V Vvv (oh, forget it!) and his followers. To reveal anything now would only put Professor Dumbledore and all the members of I-Know-What in jeopardy.

We had no funeral. His body and soul were swallowed by the Arch.

Funerals are for the survivors, to help them cope with the loss, comfort one another, all together close a chapter and go on with life. Mum explained me that when Grandma Gladys died. I was little, but I remember it. I'm sure that it worked for Dad - somewhat.

I did not see Sirius die. His file in Azkaban is still very open, I cannot tell my parents about any of this, I'm just stuck with the ever-recurring painful regret that maybe someone could have prevented it, maybe I could have. If only I'd insisted with Harry to check better, before rushing to the rescue, if I'd been still there to fight, instead of letting my opponent knock me out cold, if, if ...

Cedric's death did not affect me so much, cruel as it may sound. I guess I ultimately saw it as an accident, a terrible accident, but in fact this is what it was.

Sirius' death was no accident. He fought and he lost. When one loses to Bellatrix Lestrange, there is no re-match. It's that simple.

My parents think it must be so wonderful to be a witch. I could fix people's teeth with a stroke of my wand. No pain, no need for anaesthetic, no mistakes that could not be fixed by another wand stroke. They have no idea of the pain a wand can deliver, no idea how powerless a witch can be. How angry. It is one of the secrets I will never tell them.

No clue as to where to start, here. I shall come back to this later.

All this writing has made me hungry. The smell of roast beef coming from the kitchen helps, too. Enough for today.

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Monday, July 5

I just had the most curious of dreams. I would categorize it as a kind of funny nightmare. Wicked, in Ron's words. If he knew about it. Which he is not going to.

I was in a large ballroom, like one you can find in a mansion, or in a cruise ship. I was wearing a gorgeous silk dress, emerald green with gold inlays. I had a gold necklace in the shape of (guess what?) a snake; his eyes were two huge emeralds. I noticed that it moved, around my neck, just a little. There was music, I'm sure, but I don't remember it at all. I was dancing with Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. I was happy. If this is not a nightmare ...

Which reminds me: yesterday I wrote Viktor what happened in the Ministry of Magic. I need a reality check. If I cannot speak with my parents and have them assure me that what I did was crazy, then he will.

Were it not three o'clock in the morning, I would ask myself what's so funny about dreaming of dancing with someone who, last time I saw him, ordered his Death Eaters colleagues to kill us all. Better get some more sleep. No more dancing, I hope.

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Thursday, July 8

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My Dear Hermione,

I cannot tell you how much your letter has shocked me. I never imagined that you already would, and could, confront such opponents. You are too young, too inexperienced. You are too at a disadvantage. I will not say more, because I know you enough: nothing would make you turn away from your friends and what you believe in.

I'm sending you a book, instead. It is from Durmstrang restricted collection. It is a very, very forbidden book. I do not know if you will be able to read it. I hope you will, despite your nature: you are such a good witch. Do not show it to anybody, and return it to me as soon as possible.

You have set yourself against people who have studied books like this, and built up a lot of practice. Knowing what they can hit you with might bring more caution in your behaviour, or at least prepare you to better defend yourself and others.

May knowledge protect you as I wish I could.

Love,

Viktor

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Writing to friends is in fact much better than writing to oneself in a diary. Friends care, answer and try to help, in their own peculiar way.

This book Viktor sent me is a compendium of the most horrible things a sadistic murderous sorcerer could conjure up. No wonder he had doubts I could read it. I hope he doesn't expect it back really soon. I only skimmed through the chapters: it looks like knowledge that may be useful but, surely, I will never find in Hogwarts. If I can avoid throwing up while I read it. The perfect book for my no-spell summer: there is nothing in it I would ever think of trying out, anyway.

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Friday, July 9

Actually, yes, there is.

The first chapter is all about different methods of restrain. Useful, in a fight. Perfect for a potential Auror. Some of the restrains are in my opinion more exercises of cruelty than imprisonment systems but, given the book, this should be expected. Most of them are based on transfiguration techniques I know already. Pity that the most interesting require long spells: that makes them impractical, during a fight. I wonder ...

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Tuesday, July 13

I found the answer to my wondering in the second chapter, which is entirely dedicated to the Cruciatus Curse. Apparently there are countless ways to use it: it is an art in itself. Depending on how and where one is planning to apply it, one should employ different methods of restraining the victim, to make sure that the restrain itself does not interfere with its effectiveness. Logical, perhaps, but totally disgusting.

The author of the book puts a lot of emphasis on how one should concentrate on the flow of energy from the wand, its intensity and frequency. He probably intends to remind the reader to be scientific and not be distracted by the fun of it.

We are leaving in four days: I will spend the remaining of the time studying chapter one, in case I come across some spell-resistant monster, while in Greece. Were it in self-defence, I could use a spell.

I don't belong here.

I'm already bored to tears.

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Sunday, August 1

I'm back.

I spent two weeks of quality time with my parents.

That went well, I think.

What did not, is all the rest. As I was saying, I do not belong to the Muggles' world anymore. I don't have a clue about any of the following: movies and cute actors; music and strange looking band members; strange looking accessories and in general teenager's fashion trends; typical jargon expressions; videogames. I could go on and on ...

There was this cute boy, in our Hotel in Athens. He wanted to start a conversation, but I could not reply with more than generic answers, head nodding and polite smiles. After a while his way of staring started to remind me of someone: it was the same look of contempt Draco throws in my face every time he notices me. And the worst part of it is that he was right, (the boy in the hotel, I mean) to see me as a misfit, a weirdo. Wish I could have shown him how weird I really am!

I cannot go back to any kind of social life with my parents, that's a fact: what would I have to come up with to spend an evening with my cousins?

Not that I'm interested, anyhow.

To think that I could have a muggle boyfriend, maybe get married and bring into the world more Mudbl-

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Wednesday, August 4

I will waste the remaining of the summer here with the Weasleys, and then finally return to Hogwarts. At least I can do something, like cleaning the attic last year we didn't have time for. I can afford having nightmares about Sirius every night, wake up screaming and crying, and not have to insist it was a cat in the alley. To be here is hard for all of us, especially for Remus. Harry will come soon, but I'm not sure it is such a great idea, even though it is his house now, after all.

If I had seen Sirius dying, then I would just remember how it happened. This way instead my mind keeps imagining things, horrible things, every time a little different. Viktor's book doesn't help, either.

After chapter two it is all about death. I discovered that there are in fact twelve Avada Curses, not just one. The other eleven are one worse than the next, incredibly difficult, long to evoke and slow to reach their end. Did I mention unspeakably painful?

I'm being as scientific as I can master. I read for about an hour early in the morning, before breakfast. Then I just have a cup of tea and find some hard, physical work to keep me occupied the whole morning, so I can have my stomach back to normal in time for lunch.

I wish I could talk about this with a teacher, like Remus, or even Snape. Boy, I must be desperate, if I think of going to Snape for help!

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Tuesday, August 10

Harry is here. Very bad idea for him to come. He obviously spent most of the time since we left school blaming himself for what happened. The fact that it was actually his fault doesn't help much. Harry is mad at himself and at the rest of the universe. Everything Ron and I say or do not say, do or do not do, upsets him. We all can hardly wait to go back to Hogwarts.

I don't know what to do with Viktor's book. I'm sure I will not be able to finish reading it, in three weeks. As much as it makes me sick, I still would like to complete studying it. At home it was quite easy to hide it, here not so much. How would I hide it and read it while at school? Besides, it may be a subject of study at Durmstrang, so somebody may go looking for it and report it as missing. Viktor took a huge risk; it would be terrible if he got in trouble. I wrote him, asking for suggestions. I got back a pretty strange owl:

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My Dear Hermione,

I knew you were such a good witch that no pure-blood spell could keep you from the one thing you love so much: reading!!!

The book is not for students, not even in Durmstrang, but of course as soon as a lot of people are back, the possibility that someone would look for it increases. As you probably have figured out already, what I sent you is only a copy. The original is kept in Hogwarts, probably in Slytherin house. I do not think it would be in the library, there. Once you are back, you may find it. Be extremely careful: the original may be protected against unauthorized readers better than the copy. If you can continue studying on the original, then send the other back to me.

I would like very much to see you again. Maybe I could come to London when you go shopping for the new school year. I will let you know if I can. Quidditch training for next season has already started, I do not have much free time and I'm watched over like a prisoner, as usual.

Love,

Viktor

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What is he talking about? I did not perform any spell on the book: I just opened it and started reading. How could I've had, anyway? Don't they have rules against underage magic, over there? How lucky! I wrote him again. Hopefully I will get some logical explanations.

The original is in Hogwarts, in Slytherin's? Now, that is something to ponder about ...

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Wednesday, August 18

One week has gone by, Harry's mood has somewhat improved, the attic is almost decently clean and Viktor has not answered yet. I'm beginning to worry.

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Saturday, August 21

Still no answer from Viktor. I don't know if I should write again, I might make things worse for him. Then again, I have no way to return that damned book except than sending it back to Viktor. If he is in trouble because of it, I should send it back, but how? I wish I could talk to Ron and Harry and ask them some suggestions, instead of just writing to myself here hoping to read it back and miraculously discover the solution. And that is only half of the problem.

From Viktor's last letter, if I didn't know better, I would understand that the book should have been protected by some 'pure-blood spell' against unauthorized readers, meaning Mudbloods like myself, obviously. So there are only two possibilities: either someone removed the protective spell and Viktor didn't know it, or I was adopted. The first explanation sounds very likely, but I cannot avoid thinking that I really don't know for sure. Should I tell my parents what I have been reading lately, and ask them about it? Am I kidding?

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Sunday August 22

I asked Remus, instead. Not if I am adopted, of course. I asked him about purebloods. Like how can one know for sure, how many generations one should go back to consider oneself a pureblood, and so forth. Pretending I was getting ready to go back to school, and trying to find some way to answer to Draco's insults with sneaking doubts about himself - and it worked: Remus told me that actually there are a few potions suitable to 'certify' one's purity of blood. He said that at Durmstrang one of these potions is still employed to determine if the candidates to admission are in fact worth of becoming students. Imagine that! So, all I have to do, when I'm back in Hogwarts, is go to the library, find out how to make one of these potions, and then I will know.

Of course I could show the book to Harry, the only one here who is not a pureblood, and then I would know if the spell was removed. Obviously, if it were so, still this would not take away the lingering doubt I now have about my birth. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

Now, why would I wish to be somebody else?

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Monday, August 23

Remus returned to the subject tonight after dinner. Somewhat casually he told me that these potions he mentioned yesterday are not to be taken lightly. If one is not a pureblood, he or she will have side effects varying from headache, nausea, blurred vision, paralysis, up to death by poisoning without antidote. There was a curious look on his face. Then he said I should better ask someone more skilled in the matter, like Severus, for example. Unfortunately the devil Remus spoke about happened to be in ear's range and, hearing his name, stormed in with his peculiar charm. After being told why we dared to mention his name, he provided me with the following shining pearls of wisdom:

He didn't suggest I could also poison Harry, while I'm at it, only because he would never ask me a favour.

I wanted to bite him. I would have, if only I could have poisoned him, and see how he likes it. Maybe I could learn to transform my saliva glands into poison glands. Only for emergencies, of course. Only purebloods can be Animagi but maybe I could master just a tiny little gland, for my favourite Professor ...

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Thursday, August 26

Viktor has answered, finally! I was right to be worried.

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DEAR H

HAD PROBLEM IN TRAINING

MUCH BETTER NOW

WILL WRITE SOON

VIKTOR

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His problem must have been a very bad accident, in training. His handwriting is shaky and barely readable. I answered immediately with a letter that anyone can read, just in case.

We are not going to London for school supplies, but for a while I was happy to think I would see him again there. Pity. I hope he won't suffer any lasting handicaps from whatever happened. Quidditch is so important to him!

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Friday, August 27

I'm in trouble. Big, gigantic trouble.

We are still cleaning the attic, Ron, Harry, Ginny and I. This morning, while moving a bunch of old paintings stacked against a wall, we cracked open a huge nest of Glumbumbels.

They were storming out of the nest like crazy and, before I knew, I pulled out my wand and used this very effective freezing spell I learned in chapter four of my borrowed secret book, whose author forgot to mention that, after freezing, the body of the recipient will shatter in minute shreds and melt right away. There were so many, everywhere, and the spell was somehow strong enough to take care of all of them at the same time. The whole attic, our clothes, everything turned into a disgusting mess in an instant.

My friends were still staring at me with expressions varying from surprise to fear, with a touch of admiration, when Remus showed up. His ears are much more sensitive than ours, when the time of full moon approaches: he must have heard something. It was clear from the look of total disbelief on his face that he recognized the spell immediately. Very embarrassed, I told him that I was the one who evoked it. After a moment of silence that seemed to last forever, he just said he would help to clean up. Then, on the way down, he suggested we better keep it all to ourselves, since the building is shielded and nobody from the Ministry could have detected it.

And then it hit me: I hadn't, and still have not, the slightest idea of how the spell froze all the Glumbumbels, wherever they were, without freezing at the same time other creatures present, for example my friends. Thanks Heavens they think I'm so good with spells that I must have known what I was doing! I'm scared out of my wits.

Remus left right after lunch and has not come back yet. I must speak with him, alone, as soon as I can. This book is way too dangerous to keep studying it all by myself. Viktor said I should not show it to anyone, but I know I can trust him.

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Friday, September 3

Remus has not come back, as should be expected, since it was full moon on August 29. School has started, and now I don't know how to speak with him from here. Besides, there is so much to do; I should not have much time for personal doubts or forbidden studying.

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Tuesday, September 7

Today, at the first opportunity, less then five minutes into his first hour, Snape gave me detention. Tonight, at eight, in his office.

When I got there he put a beaker containing some murky mixture in my hands and told me to drink it.

'No way,' I replied.

He stated that I could drink it without further fuss or, even better, he could make me drink it. So I drank it.

He sat back at his desk and kept looking at me, as if he were waiting for me to explode, or something. For quite some time I stood there, he stared at me and nothing happened.

Then finally he said: 'Congratulations, you are a pure-blood bastard, abandoned amid Muggles so that no one will know, least of all you, who your careless wizard parents are. Lupin asked me to help you find out. Now you can go.'

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Monday, September 13

I have been down Memory Lane for days, coming to the conclusion that I was not adopted. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in the behaviour of my parents that would suggest it. I think that I was switched with the real Hermione Granger. I must know what happened, and the best idea I had so far is to ask Remus to help me, since he already knows, or has figured out, quite a lot. I must find a way to talk to the Grangers, with Remus, so then he can make them forget that we talked, if necessary. Of course we students cannot leave the school, except during holydays, but Christmas is still more than three months away. I cannot wait that long, I would go nuts.

I will send him an owl, asking him to procure me some Floo powder. My plan is that he should unlock the fireplace in my parents' living room and wait for me there. I can use the one in the Shrieking Shack early in the evening. So, I will have time to talk to them, and also talk to Remus about my unorthodox spell and the book it came from. I will have to ask Harry to lend me his Invisibility Cloak, to reach the Whomping Willow undetected.

As I write down my plan I realize how tremendously farfetched it looks.

I could go to Professor McGonagall, instead, entrust her with my birth secret and ask her to help me talk to the Grangers.

It is still a secret since I told Snape it must remain as such. Should he say anything to anyone, in his House for example, I would make him so sorry to have been born, although to regularly married wizards. I also reminded him I would not want to remain in the school anyway, at that point, so I would have no problem whatsoever in breaking every possible rule and test on him all the interesting new spells I learned during the summer. My vision blurred, so much I was out of my mind. I like to think I scared him. Whatever, Draco doesn't know or even Peeves would sing about it by now.

I will let the night help me decide.

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Tuesday, September 14

I have chosen plan B. Today right after lunch I went to Professor McGonagall and told her how lately I had doubts about my muggle birth (without explaining why), that Snape was so kind to help me find out the truth, since Remus couldn't, and now I need to question my parents on the whole story, as soon as possible.

She remained in silence for a while, like she was trying to decide what to say first. Then she told me it is not a common practice to abandon a love child by the Muggles, but it is known to have happened. She did her best to make it sound matter-of-fact, but instead it sounded very disturbing indeed, in my ears. She also confirmed that there is no way to find my biological parents, unless they themselves show up. In this case, then, there are means for verifying paternity and maternity, a sort of magic genetic testing. But of course if someone went to so much trouble to hide my birth, it's crazy to hope this would happen. The Grangers may know something, or may agree to drink a potion that will help them remember. After I related to Professor McGonagall the 'gentle and concerned' words Snape used to break the news to me, she said she would ask Madam Pomfrey a Remember potion. She agreed to keep it all between us, naturally.

Then she said that one of these coming evenings she will run me through the Transfiguration Test, the one all children born to wizard families have to take, early in life, to find out if they have a natural disposition to shape shifting. A piece of good news, finally. There might be hope for poison glands, after all!

Seriously, this reminds me of something else I should report here: since that evening when Snape bought me a drink, I have not dreamed anymore. Well, of course I must be dreaming, I just do not remember. Not a single image.

Wicked, Ron would say. I will tell them, one of these days. It is ridiculous to think what Snape knows about me and my best friends still don't.

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Friday, September 17

I'm back from the Transfiguration Test with McGonagall. It isn't yet clear to me if I'm happy about the results or what. I'm going to accurately write down what happened, so maybe then, when I read it back, this will put it in perspective, like Mrs Weasley suggested about my nightmares. Then I will know. This whole story is kind of a big nightmare, after all.

Professor McGonagall asked me to come to her office after dinner, so I did.

We both sat down, then she started explaining what was about to happen.

'The Transfiguration Test consists of two parts: the first is performed on children when they are between the age of two and three, with the aim of determining their natural disposition to transform.

'If this test produces revealing results, or if there is a family history of shape shifting, then a second test is conducted, later in life, when the child has acquired sufficient speech skills to relate his/her feelings. The first test is carried out using a spell that is absolutely safe, but you are at this point too old and know too much, so I will explain it in great detail, before we start. I don't want you to feel threatened and, even more important, you must not fight it, or this whole exercise would be pointless.

'I must start with a little bit of history. As you know, the spells we utilize come mostly from very old times, and therefore they are in a variety of old, often forgotten, languages. Sometimes the original meaning of certain words tends to be overlooked by the later use of the spell itself. For instance: Avada means Transformation, in the original speech.'

'I know,' I intruded. I should not have said that. She went on.

'Then you perhaps also know that there is more than one Avada Curse.'

'Yes, I do.' Silence.

'I read about it.' Silence.

'In a book that a friend lent me.'

McGonagall's right eyebrow could not rise any higher. She commented dryly: 'Then perhaps I should remind your friend that there are reasons why restricted books are such.

'But let's not wander, we can come back to that later. The other Avada Curses are in fact transformation spells. Without going into details about these curses, suffices to say that the first part of any of them is the destabilization of the inner structure of a particular part of the body of the recipient,' (it sounds so cool, said this way ...) 'just as one would begin with, when transforming an object or a small animal into another object, like we normally practice during my hours. The main difference consists in the fact that the Avada Curses can be easily directed inside the body of a person, to target only specific organs.

'Students, of course, are not allowed to direct spells onto people. No matter what you have read, is it crystal clear that you should not try anything on people?' (Of course, especially after what happened to the Glumbumbels)

'Of course, Professor,' I replied.

'The first part of the test consists in destabilizing the structure of a child's lock. If that goes well, next we try with a very small portion of skin. Then with a small finger bone. After seeing how the destabilization goes, we undo the spell, allowing the body to reconstitute its full integrity. It is possible to cut a small bunch of hair, but the other two steps must be done directly on the person. I do not want you to be scared, when you hear me releasing at you a spell that sounds like Avada K-'

I told her that I didn't like it, not a bit. I asked if it could be done in any other way, since by now I really know too much to sit tight while someone, even my very trusted Teacher, throws me an Avada Curse. Besides, I didn't know they could be undone. I should not have said that.

'Only the destabilization part can be undone. Just what kind of book did Remus let you read?'

'Shouldn't we come back to this later?' I replied.

'We definitely should.' She paused and looked at me puzzled and definitely worried. Then she went on.

'There is no other way to run this test. I can assure you, from personal experience, that if one is a born Animagus and transforms by accident, without knowing how it works and especially how to revert to the original form, well, that is immensely more scaring than to have one's Teacher of Transfiguration put a spell on a small area of the skin of your left hand. No matter how much it sounds like she is going to kill you.

'It is of course up to you to decide. Do you routinely have dreams about animals? Dreams in which your feelings seem to become the feeling of a specific animal?'

Good grief! I thought.

'If you do, then I strongly suggest that we proceed with the test,' she concluded. I had no choice.

At that point she cut a small bunch of my hair and directed the spell to it. She didn't allow me to look, saying it would influence the remaining of the test. Then she made me lay down on a couch she bewitched out of candleholder and told me to close my eyes and relax. And she was not kidding. She said I should concentrate on water. Clear, standing water. It felt like a small very cold object was touching the back of my left hand. It almost burned, so cold it was. Before I knew it was all over.

I opened my eyes and everything was back to normal, except McGonagall's face. She remained in silence for a while. I was waiting for part two of the test, but she said it would not have been necessary. She asked me if I had been dreaming about snakes, lately.

She then prohibited me, with very strong words and a look of great concern, to run to the library and start reading about Transfiguration. She would tell me all I need to know in the safest possible way, starting tomorrow right after breakfast. When I reminded her that tomorrow, being Saturday, I was counting I would be accompanied to see the Grangers, she declared Transfiguration was a lot more important, all things considered.

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I've read back. I decided I'm happy about it, in a way. I only hope I'm not a Basilisk: it would be the final blow to my already stinking social life. Seriously.

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Saturday, September 18

I spent the whole day with McGonagall. Fascinating. She is such a nice witch. I wish she were my mother! So much happened; I can't write forever. I will only note down the most interesting facts I learned today.

If one has a disposition to transfigure, he/she can usually choose the animal, unless in his/her family it is common to become a specific kind. In this case to pick another can be extremely difficult.

Professor McGonagall comes from a family of cats. This is why she transformed the first time when she was about five, playing in the garden with other cats. It was horrible. She run, was chased by a dog, her parents had a hard time returning her to her former self. This is why her Patronus is a huge dog (?!?), she told me, and she is so concerned about transfiguring by accident. I cannot blame her.

When I enquired if knowing I'm a born snake would help locate my parents, she said it would not. First, no one normally chooses to become a snake and, second, when it is in the family line, well, those are not families one would be so eager to find or happy to belong to. Also, the fact is not too much advertised, outside restricted circles: there is not an Animagus-snake registered at the Ministry of Magic since at least three centuries. And it gets better ...

I must be a venomous snake, not a constrictor, because I feel like biting, when I'm angry, not squeezing. Weird as it sounds, it is normal for an Animagus to react according to his/her animal nature, when emotions take over. Like one could find a tabby tomcat irresistible, and end up producing a litter of tabby kittens. Like I could fall for Nagini. Then emotions must be avoided like the plague. Kittens. Who would have thought? Then again, where did I think creatures like Crookshanks came from, the cabbage patch?

She gave me a yard long list of exercises, stressing the importance of catching up with theory before practice catches up with me. She is utterly concerned that I may wake up one morning, giving every girl in Gryffindor dormitory the scare of her life.

Animagi must be reported to the Improper Use of Magic Office. Doing so will bring to light my being a pure-blood bastard, as Snape so concisely put it. Furthermore, to be a snake seems to be very bad indeed. I think we must work on this. Maybe she can be convinced to keep it to herself. It would not be the first time, in Hogwarts, that Animagi go without being reported. Besides, it would be a great asset, for Dumbledore's Friends to have a snake in the company, but only if no outsider knows.

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Sunday, September 19

Why am I taking all this so lightly? I am a snake, the illegitimate daughter of at least one, maybe two black sorcerers, very likely Voldemort's followers, hopefully dead ones, and yet I think it is all right?

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Monday, September 20

I woke up crying and remembering my dream, again.

I was in a graveyard. There were many people there, all wearing hoods. One man was roped to a stone cross. It was full moon, but I could not see well anyhow, I don't know who he was. He was screaming in agony. A black shadow stood in front of him. I knew he was going kill him, eventually. The man at the cross kept screaming, I wanted to help. I couldn't. I woke up.

Professor Trelawney said years ago that I do not possess what it takes to see the future. I hope I don't. I hope it was not Harry I saw there.

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Thursday, September 23

At the end of her lesson Professor McGonagall informed me that the Grangers would be accompanied to Hogsmeade, this coming Sunday afternoon, so I will have the opportunity to talk to them. Finally. I will have a special permission to go there, since it is not a weekend of visit for the students. I'm happy about it. I wouldn't like having too many witnesses around.

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Friday, September 24

I need a new wand. I broke my old one. It was so worth it!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is so good I will write down all details, to make sure I will not forget a single bit of it. Unlikely, though.

This morning Professor Snape was again our substitute teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts. He enjoys it deeply. Till now, that is.

He began by saying that some of us are here because we intend to become Aurors, since it is such a glamorous profession. He would spend the morning showing us the drawbacks of the job. Then he asked who had already a direct experience of the Cruciatus Curse. Harry, Neville and Malcolm raised their hands. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle looked intently under their tables ... He said he was not interested in personal recollections of suffering; he wanted to know who had already tried to use the Curse on another person. While our three Slytherin champions were still studying their shoes, Harry's hand did not come down. He wanted to know who the fortunate was, and when Harry said it, Snape asked him to show us. Harry did, but not much happened. He must have been too angry, the energy flow was very irregular, Snape did not even blink. He asked Harry if Bellatrix laughed in his face or offered private lessons. When he didn't answer, Snape asked us if anyone had any idea of why his atte! mpt was such a blunder. I raised my hand.

'Of course, our Know-it-All must have read about it, right?' I must remain calm and not blow this golden opportunity, I told myself.

'I have, and would be very happy to show you what I have learned, Professor.'

'Please, make me scream and beg for mercy,' he replied sarcastically.

I did everything according to the Book: first I paralysed his hands and feet (this is to prevent the breaking of the spell, that can sometimes occur if the victim is able to disrupt the flow of energy of the Curse with small movements of his wand, or even his extremities); second, I unleashed the Curse at his spinal cord, lightly (I never actually tried it before, I had no clue as what would happen); as soon as I got hold of the echo the Curse sends back (there was no mention of this in the book, it must have been too obvious for the average reader), I increased the energy, concentrating on it (no fun or distractions, remember?); I felt a jolt, and then the energy increased like by itself, stabilizing a red, narrow beam between us. This is when he fell on the floor and started convulsing. At this point the Book suggests inducing slight oscillations in the frequency, which should break any residual resistance. How true. Snape screamed, just as h! e had asked for.

I couldn't keep up with it too long, because my wand cracked open at the tip, the hair inside burned in a flash of blinding light, and it was all over.

I stood there, with my wand looking like a flower bloomed in my hand, when Ron started applauding, then the others joined in. Draco was obviously impressed; a chilling smile lighted his bleak features. Soon it was an ovation. Snape got up. The look on his face was priceless. I thought he would kill me and I could not care less. He went back to the desk and sat down. Without a word. The cheering crowd slowly calmed down, until it was silence again.

'Ten points to Gryffindor,' he said. Unbelievable! So this is what he likes, the pathetic nerd!

Will I be able to sleep, tonight?

The remaining of the lesson was devoted to examining in detail my 'almost perfect' rendering of the Curse. Oh, and how to break it, naturally. According to Ron, Snape has hopelessly fallen in love with me. At dinnertime I walked in the Great Hall at the sound of 'Hail to Granger, the Avenger.' What a day of reckoning!

<><><><><><><>

It was he, Snape, the wizard tortured to death at the cross in my dream. When I got to bed, finally, I kept hearing his screaming in my mind. As I was almost asleep I kind of found myself in the graveyard again. I still could not see well, but this time somehow I knew I was seeing the place where traitors are executed, before the General Assembly. I got up and went to his office. He was waiting for me. He asked why it took me so long.

'I'm not here to apologize for what I did yesterday morning,' I said. He was wielding his wand.

'Feeling naked without a wand? Here, take mine: you don't want to feel naked while alone in my office at three o'clock in the morning, right?' He threw his wand to me. I grabbed it in mid-air. It was heavy, warm, scary. What does he want from me, now? I thought.

'So this is how you found out. Reading a book, how else? Have you also already discovered that you are a snake?'

'How did you discover it?'

'The pupils of your eyes become slits when you are angry. Or excited. You should be more careful about it: others will notice, and then you will think I blew up your big secret. You will be compelled to grant me further examples of your proficiency in the Dark Arts, as promised.'

The thought of torturing him felt a lot less appealing than it did yesterday morning in the classroom. I had come to tell him my dream about the graveyard. I did. He replied that I must decide: if I want to become an Auror, or a Death Eater, for that matter, I must learn to be more detached from my feelings. He too was pretending to be detached, but it was very clear that he was struck by what I said a lot more than he cared to admit.

Then I told him about the Book, too. I said a friend lent me a book I did not know was bewitched, it didn't even have a title, it was hidden inside the cover of another very innocent book.

'The History of Magic, Volume 37?' he asked.

'Yes. How do you know?'

'The Durmstrang copy, of course. Your friend must love you very much to do something so inconceivably stupid as taking it for you. Would you like to see the original?' He got up and walked to the back wall of his office. 'I need my wand back. You surely cannot speak Parsel with a good enough accent to open the vault, yet.' I gave it back to him.

'The Book of the 37 Deaths. Written and illustrated by the Lady Sharina, great grandmother of Salazar Slytherin. She was a snake, did you know?'

My legs started shaking, I sat down on the floor. Be scientific. Cool and detached. Concentrate.

'There are only twelve Avada Curses in the book I read. Why does the title say thirty-seven?' I asked.

He pointed his wand to the wall and spoke a few words in Parsel. Two silver snakes materialized on its surface. Snape spoke again and the two snakes joined in a sort of slow dance. When they separated there was an opening between them. He took a book from inside it. He sat on the floor by me and laid the book down. Very old book, very thick. My vision blurred again. He was again talking to me - his voice seemed to come from afar.

'By the way, don't let your imagination run too wild in your head. Sharina had two daughters. The Dark Lord is the heir of Salazar Slytherin, not you. You are at best just a distant cousin of Him.'

He laid his hand on the cover of the book and said: 'Avada Tahil.' The book opened itself to show a full-page illumination, which started moving, changing, to illustrate how the curse works.

'She was a great painter,' I whispered.

'I don't recall saying these were paintings, do you?'

When I came to, I was still on the floor. The book was nowhere to be seen, but Snape was sitting by me as before. He went on with the conversation as if nothing had interrupted it.

'The other twenty-five death curses are in Parsel. Only snakes can open and read the second part of the Book. I can hardly wait, but you do not seem to be ready for it, yet.'

I crawled toward the door. I could not think anymore. All I wanted was to run away. He didn't stop me. I came back to our dormitory and dropped on my bed, but I was too afraid to fall asleep, so I got up again and wrote all this. I'm thankful to Mrs Weasley, who gave me this diary. Snape must know who my parents are.

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Sunday, September 26

Yesterday was another day I wish I had not lived trough.

Ginny woke me up and told me that Professor McGonagall needed to talk to me. It was already late morning. I rushed to her office.

She informed me that Snape had come to her and told her about Friday's lesson. He had insisted he should accompany me to London, to buy a new wand. He told her it was his fault, so it would be only fair that he bought me a new one. McGonagall said she reluctantly agreed that I would use the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks to reach Diagon Alley and get a new wand with Snape. Then I could meet her and the Grangers in the pub, if I still thought it was a good time to see them, that is. Snape joined us in her office, he was all wired up, McGonagall must have seriously considered if she should let me go with him, but at the end she didn't say anything and let us leave together. We almost run to Hogsmeade.

Mr Ollivander was shocked to see what his wand looked like. He was apologetic till Snape told him I broke it while working a full strength Cruciatus Curse.

'... during a regular hour of Defence Against the Dark Arts,' he specified.

'She should replace it with something able to withstand the next lessons,' he concluded.

Mr Ollivander didn't seem particularly thrilled about it. He showed us a great deal of wands, but none of them liked me, until finally Snape gave me his again, and told me to let it help. It didn't feel so heavy as it did before. The old wizard observed me with care, and then pulled out the perfect one for a young lady from Slytherin (we both didn't bother to argue with him). Birchwood, with a Thestral hair inside. It felt just right, for an instant I was almost happy. Snape paid the bill and we left the shop.

We returned to the pub. It was early for my rendezvous with the Grangers, I must have looked like shit, so he got us a private room and ordered something to eat and drink. I was still in a trance; I kept thinking that he must know who my parents are. When we were alone again I finally found the courage to ask him.

'I don't know, but surely the field of possibilities is not as broad as it looked to be at first. If I were you, anyway, I would not rush to the search. Do not forget that they abandoned you. It may be difficult for a mother to kill her own newborn child, but now you are old, you have chosen your side, you may not be granted the same clemency a second time.'

Like I care.

We didn't speak again.

Some time later McGonagall showed up, followed by the Grangers. They looked already worried enough, seeing me must have done nothing to reassure them. McGonagall thanked Severus and told him he could go, but he didn't leave.

Not having a clue as where to start, I asked Mum point blank if there was anything I should know about my birth. She sat down, seemingly lost, but also in a way relieved. Father hugged her shoulders and she started talking.

'Yours was a stillbirth. Nothing could have been done. The Doctor left the delivery room to call your father, leaving me alone with my dead child in my arms. I was crying, I was desperate, I knew I could not have any more children. Then suddenly you started whining. It was impossible. It was a miracle.

'Someone was in the room with me. I looked up, I thought she was an Angel. She wore a black robe, her hair was not blond. I thought she was the Angel of Death, who took pity of my sorrow and gave me my baby back. Only there was no compassion in her eyes. Only hatred.

'Your father came in, with the Doctor. She was gone. I told them what happened; of course they didn't believe me. I didn't believe it myself, after a while, but it didn't matter, as long as I had my daughter alive and healthy.

'Then, when that Inspector from the Ministry of Magic came and told us that you were a witch, I started thinking about it again. Maybe something had happened, while she brought you back, some non-human powers came back with you. Still, it didn't matter, you were our Hermione, ...'

'She is not your daughter, she is a full-blooded witch. It must have been her mother you saw, who disposed of your dead child and left her in her place,' interrupted Severus. Silence. McGonagall hastily said she could make them forget this whole afternoon; it was really not necessary to remember. She spoke to the Grangers while looking at Snape with contempt.

Mum was crying, she replied she didn't want to forget she just lost her daughter again; it would be all right, as long as I was happy to be where I belonged.

I should have said something to them, done something. Instead I just sat there, imagining the hatred in the eyes of my mother. Severus sat beside me on the bed, put his arm around me and started whispering softly, in Parsel.

McGonagall was furious. She told him to stop: this was neither the time nor the place.

'Better here and now than in your classroom,' he replied, but then stopped talking. I was so exhausted. I must have fallen asleep.

I woke up early this morning and we came back to school.

<><><><><><><>

I read back all, from the beginning.

To put things in perspective, yes. Let's see.

Just like it wouldn't have been my fault to be a Mudblood, I am not responsible for being the offspring of the author of the Book of the 37 Horrors, daughter of the Angel of Hatred and a venomous snake.

On the other hand, the only parents I have known have taught me principles and values even a snake can live by. If I didn't, that would definitely be my fault.

I am a witch, a born Animagus. These are great gifts not to be squandered.

I will write to my parents.

I will return the book to Viktor.

I must learn from Professor McGonagall how to transform.

I must learn to speak, read and write in Parsel.

I have the most challenging book waiting for me in Severus' office.

I need to relay all this to my friends Ron and Harry, and to Professor Dumbledore, too.

I have used this diary to whine and feel sorry for myself long enough.

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I spent almost the whole afternoon writing to my parents. I have become addicted to writing, lately; I hope I was able to convey my thoughts and my feelings. I asked them to come to Hogsmeade next weekend: I didn't even see them leaving, yesterday. Then I wrote to Viktor. I just told him that my studies here are proceeding as well as we hoped, and therefore I will have some free time next weekend. Could he come to Hogsmeade, even briefly, I have his birthday present ... I need to be careful: if he is still not well enough, maybe someone else handles his owls.

Then at dinner I told Ron and Harry that I had a few quite important things to share with them, and with Ginny too (in case McGonagall fears of my accidental transformation comes true).

Ron is jealous of Severus. Unbelievable! Of course my leaving with him on Saturday morning and coming back the next day hasn't helped much. I explained everything, from the beginning, now it is up to Ron to come to his senses. Ginny promised she would keep an eye on me at night, and if she sees anything funny she will freeze me up and get McGonagall. Not with the 'Glumbumbels spell'. Harry has volunteered to teach me Parsel and Ron to keep me safe from Snape, whatever that means.

Things are finally looking a little brighter, for being two in the morning. I must get some sleep.

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Tuesday, September 28

If he wants me to read him the second part of his precious book, then he must be a whole lot more careful.

Fascinating morning - we have Potions on Tuesdays.

In case I will end up reading this diary to my children, lets lay down a little background.

There are eleven students in the Potions NEWT class: two boys and a girl from Ravenclaw, one girl from Hufflepuff and one from Slytherin, all determined to work in the medical field; Draco, who plans to become a rotten copy of his father; Crabbe and Goyle, who must want to keep doing what they do already, which is to be Draco's bodyguards; Ron and Harry, who intend to become Aurors; and of course 'Yours truly'. From the beginning the two Ravenclaw boys have worked together, as the three of us, while Draco and his two gorillas have been paired by Snape with the three girls, so there can be somebody doing the work for them. Healers need a lot of patience: they are practicing already.

We were informed that Madam Pomfrey would occasionally conduct seminaries and, in fact, last week she was there, to begin a sequence of three lessons devoted to first-aid techniques. She explained and let us try out various diagnostic methods. So far, so good.

This morning she was not there though, because someone (Peeves, perhaps?) had completely disarranged her pharmacy cabinet. She must have decided it was more important to straight up that mess, in case she needed something in a hurry. Professor Snape declared he would continue with the seminar as planned.

He had eleven small bottles neatly arranged on his desk, each with the name of one of us on it. He told us each bottle contained a sample of a liquid that someone could accidentally ingest at home. We would work in pairs: one would drink the contents of his/her bottle and the other would have to find out what it was, prepare the antidote and dispense it. The three girls were not at all pleased with the prospective of depending on those three jerks for their recovery. I had no idea of what was coming, when he said I would work with him. Everyone else was at best sceptical. He distributed the first round of bottles but, when he got mine, he drank a sip from it and put it back. Meaning I should find out what it was and heal him, obviously. Ron had time to whisper 'Let him melt,' before falling unconscious.

Severus should have let me examine him, but instead kept going around to check how the others were doing. Quite an interesting show, by the way. When I asked him to give me a clue about what it was that he drank, he replied: 'What if it were your little brother who drank it, too young to tell you anything?' Little Brother would stand still, if Big Sister told him, but he didn't.

After about one hour, when it was obvious to all that he was in pain, but still didn't want to cooperate, I took things into my own hands, flattened him to the floor and tied him there (Chapter 1: Joints Restrains). Then I went on to examine him. While I was doing it, he made a comment in Parsel that Draco found hilarious, Harry not a bit and I of course did not understand. There was certainly something inside his stomach that didn't belong there, I could not make any reasonable diagnosis using my wand and when I pressed hard with my fingertips he spit blood. He was still playing the little brother who cannot yet talk, but things were getting serious, so I followed the only logical course of action: I walked to the desk, got my bottle and drank the whole content.

'You are not going to like it,' he commented with nonchalance while I was releasing him from the restrains.

It burned like hell. As soon as I felt there was something solid in my stomach, I tried to throw up. Big mistake. What came out was a small dark blue crystal, all sharp edges, it cut me all the way up to my tongue. Panic. He drank only a sip, but it was an hour ago. Not a clue as what it was, I drank the whole bottle, no time to figure it out. Think.

The third Avada Curse in the book is a Water-transformation Spell. The Author suggests transforming the blood of the recipient into water (that would surely kill anyone). I thought I could use it to transform those damned crystals into water. The principle would have been the same: I would use a spell that can be easily directed inside the body, to target only something with very specific characteristics.

I wanted to try first on the small piece I threw up, which was on the floor between us. Instead it happened just like with the Glumbumbels: all the crystals melted at the same time. It burned worse than before; I emptied my stomach as quick as I could. He did the same.

'Next week we will practice first-aid in case of bone fractures and burns. Come prepared. Class dismissed,' he said.

While the others were only too happy to leave and I was doing my best not to scream he walked to one of the locked cabinets on the left wall of the classroom and picked up a jug, which contained a thick, dark, metallic looking liquid, drank plenty of it and laid down. His eyes lost focus, he was barely breathing. There was some liquid left in the jug. Hoping it would take away the burning, I drank it. It was sweet, heavenly. I felt better immediately. I wanted more. There was still some on his lips. I licked it all, sucked it. I think I bit his lips. It was sweet, warm.

Someone must have run to get help, at some point, because Madam Pomfrey pulled me away from him. I wanted to bite her as well, but didn't manage to.

I woke up later in the infirmary. McGonagall was sitting by me. Severus was not there. When I inquired about him she said he survived only because he had been playing with poisons and antidotes since childhood. I must really avoid biting people, she said. She looked old and tired. Since I was instead feeling perfectly all right she accompanied me to Dumbledore's office.

I didn't want to kill him, I - no, I cannot write that.

I must remember to make these pages erasable, one of these days.

The first question they had was, as expected, about the Avada Curse. I told them the whole story about Viktor's book. I told Dumbledore about my supposed stillbirth and the Angel of Hatred, I said I'm a snake. They didn't believe me when I said I would have told them all soon, eventually.

The good news is: I will not be expelled from school; I will not be reported to the Improper Use of Magic Office, at least for now; my albeit improper use of the Avada Curse will not be reported to the appropriate Authority.

The bad news is: under no circumstances will I be allowed to leave the school premises; I will serve detention two evenings a week, with McGonagall and Snape, to work on my transformation; I will return the book to Viktor as soon as he is ready to safely take it back; I will sleep in isolation until further notice.

Not being allowed to leave the castle will prevent me from attaching villagers, but also from following the Apparition exercises we started last week with Professor Flitwick. The first certification test will be held right before Christmas. Pity, I was hoping to be ready by then.

Professor Dumbledore was adamant that I should not work on my transformation with McGonagall alone, too dangerous. She asked to be assisted by Harry, who speaks Parsel well enough, but he denied her request. He said Severus would be a lot more proficient in controlling me, if it comes to that. If he is not unconscious or drugged, he added. I must apply myself, because I will be under house-arrest till I have learned to transform and, more important, I have proven beyond the shadow of a doubt I can control my snake temper.

Professor McGonagall proposed that I sleep in her quarters, but when I commented that a cat would make a nice midnight snack, they didn't think it was funny.

This is why I'm here, locked in a large underground chamber, with no openings except for the huge door I came in through, with all my belongings, including my so very useful diary. I spent most of the night writing. I don't feel tired. I must still be under the influence of Severus' wonder drug.

I'm hungry. Madam Pomfrey insisted I should not put anything else in my stomach till at least tomorrow. A nice juicy cat ...

Just kidding, really.

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Wednesday, September 29

News travels fast, indeed.

When I showed up for breakfast this morning, (finally, food!) every student already knew some version of what had happened. Professor Dumbledore clarified the situation by informing the whole assembly that yesterday, during Potions, I had attacked Professor Snape with three prohibited spells. And a bite, added Draco loud enough for everyone to hear.

Professor Snape himself did his share to improve the situation by coming to our table and, in the most eerie silence, informing me (as if I didn't know already) together with everyone else of the following:

He told me to stand up. He hit me with a strange incantation, in Parsel, performed with a complex choreography of wand movements. Since nothing happened, while I was waiting for at least some excruciating pain, I asked. He said it was a spell to make sure I would not leave the school grounds: I would get my well-deserved share of excruciating pain only if I tried to. This prompted me to ask what kind of a household accident was supposed to have befallen us yesterday.

'It was a mixture of fertilizer, silverware cleaner, blueberry juice, sand and liquid gum, with a sprinkle of Floo powder. My very first original potion, perfected when I was only five years old. I'm quite proud of it.'

Only another one had received a special treat during that memorable lesson: Draco, who got to drink a thirty years old and ill prepared love potion. He is practically back to his normal obnoxious self, but occasionally still throws strange looks at Karen. The others received non-lethal doses of various poisoning substances, all stuff that can actually be found in any wizard home.

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Thursday, September 30

My first 'counselling' session has been the shortest I could have foreseen: we had just arrived at my cell when Snape said he had forgotten he had a previous appointment for the evening, he should leave right away. McGonagall looked at him suspiciously, but had no choice: she locked me up and left with him. I do not think he had an appointment. Since the day of the Cruciatus Curse, when I felt that strange echo coming back from him through the wand, I kind of feel his pain. It happened on Tuesday, and now I'm again perceiving a sort of burning on my left forearm. I hate to say this, but I think he was summoned by Lord Voldemort.

Tonight it is not full moon.

I must not think about it.

I must send an owl to Viktor, who wrote me this:

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

My Dear Hermione,

I apologize for not having written sooner, but I lost almost one month of training, because of my accident, and now I don't have a moment for myself.

I'm happy to know that you have been able to get to the original of the Book I sent you. I have never seen it; you should be honoured to read it.

I cannot of course come to Hogsmeade, much as I would like to. My sister Eliana has agreed to come. She is a student, last year. It was she who 'borrowed' the Book. She has seen pictures of the two of us and will recognize you. Let me know where and when she should meet you.

Yours truly,

Viktor

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Friday, October 1

Severus is back.

I wrote to Viktor that I would give the book to Ron and send him to meet Eliana, since I cannot go myself. I didn't tell him why, I don't want him to start mumbling it is his fault I'm in such a hot spot. I also had to write to my parents that for a while I would not be able to meet them. I'm so sorry about it. More white lies, as soon as I had sworn to myself not to do it again.

Anyway, the only event of the day worth reporting is that there is no way I can materialize my Patronus anymore. I was doing so well last year, with my otter. I was using happy childhood memories that now make me so hopelessly sad. No substitutes, either. What a lousy school year I had so far.

<><><><><><><>

I almost forgot the other piece of bad news: Lucius Malfoy has been released from Azkaban, together with his guardian angels Crabbe and Goyle. He was able to prove (one more time) that they were under an Imperius Curse, when they went to the Ministry of Magic and did what they did. Yeah, right! How can they be so rotten, at the Ministry? Or are they just plain stupid?

<><><><><><><>

Saturday, October 2

A long day with McGonagall and Snape, to make up for last Thursday.

I'm beginning to figure out what happens during a transformation. It is not quite as scary as I imagined.

On the other front, Ron stubbornly refused to hear about meeting Viktor's sister until I showed him a family picture he gave me two years ago, when he was here for the Tournament. Ron likes blondes, we all know that ...

<><><><><><><>

Sunday, October 3

Another long day just like yesterday. McGonagall does not leave us alone for a second. When Severus suggested she could take a break while we practiced a little Parsel she replied she always found the sound of it so relaxing.

If I needed someone else to get on my nerves, Ron came back from Hogsmeade with a cold and a crush. It has been raining for days, today was even worse, or so I'm told, since I spent the whole time in my cell with my two 'counsellors'. At dinner he kept describing how she Apparated in front of him, and the rain began to flow on her beautiful (shining, golden, what have you) hair.

She is a student and can vanish from school just like that? Over there they also have no rules against underage magic, I knew that already. If I get kicked out from Hogwarts maybe I should apply at Durmstrang. Since now I know I will pass the admission test ...

<><><><><><><>

Monday, October 4

In the afternoon, just for the fun of it, I tried to pass through the school portal. Severus was not exaggerating: I managed to walk about three or four yards before something snatched me back. Which was good, I could not have walked back on my own. I returned to my cave and to my transformation exercises. The only way out is to learn to slither.

This evening I told him I was trying to break some of my bones in preparation for tomorrow's seminar: that's what he requested, right?

<><><><><><><>

Tuesday, October 5

Our nurse would not have missed today's lesson, no matter what Peeves, or maybe some fun-loving professor, could have done to her precious pharmacy cabinet.

Our five future Healers came prepared: they arrived in the classroom carrying each a basket full of potions and unguents. I had burned my left forearm before breakfast, but when I pulled up my sleeve a layer of cracked skin peeled off, and I was just fine. Snakes do that, I forgot.

The presence of Madam Pomfrey drastically reduced the amount of pain we had to endure. A dull lesson. Last week's was a lot more inspired.

<><><><><><><>

Thursday, October 21

I don't know how long I can go on.

Mrs Weasley told me to write - there you have it:

I cannot concentrate, I cannot study, I cannot read.

No one speaks to me anymore.

Severus calls me pet-names and indulges in various crazy sadomasochistic routines with me, when we are in public. Nothing prohibited: he stopped me one time saying I shouldn't make things worse, as if it were possible.

When we are here with McGonagall, instead, he is sweet, concerned, helpful - schizophrenic.

This place must be heated from below, but it is so cold. I wake up every morning stiff I can barely move. Not that I really want to. I hear voices, at night. I'm going mad.

I dream about the Basilisk again. He coils around me. He is cold. He doesn't have to kill me, I'm dead already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, November 22

I have not written for a while because Severus spends all his free time here with me. The nights, too. He keeps me warm. When I wake up I have enough strength to hang on for another day.

~~~~~

Thursday, December 9

It has happened, finally!

This morning, while Severus was trying to wake me up and I was again dreaming of the Basilisk, I transformed.

To be an Animagus is the greatest thing in the universe.

I felt wonderful. For the first time since forever, being cold did not bother me. I could move so effortless. He kept caressing me, he told me I was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He bewitched a mirror. I'm about ten feet long, emerald green, my eyes are of a dark golden colour. I am beautiful.

I warped around him. I will never forget the look in his eyes. I was so happy. I coiled in his lap and laid my head on his forearm. As soon as I relaxed, I transformed back.

This is when McGonagall showed up, followed by the ever-present Filch. She slammed the door on his face, then thought better, opened it again and threw a spell at him.

'I hope this is not what it looks like,' she said. I was of course naked.

'Show her, Hermione.' I did.

She observed me a while, then transformed herself. She came close.

'Nice try, but I'm not interested. I'm too happy. I'm free. I'm in love. I only wish he were a snake too.' Severus translated. Funny how I could still understand human speech but couldn't speak it myself.

I transformed back again. It may take a while before I can hold my other form for long. There was one more thing to do with my happiness: I grabbed my wand.

'Expecto Patronum!'

A thick silvery substance flowed out of my wand, floated around us, took the form of a Basilisk. Severus was still holding me. The Basilisk twisted around us. His eyes were closed. He will protect me, us, against anyone. I let him dissolve.

'How come I'm the only one surprised by this?' I asked them.

'Because it's quite obvious that your Patronus should be a Basilisk. If you think about it, you will figure it out. Meanwhile let's go break the good news to Professor Dumbledore,' commented Severus.

'You better put on something, before going anywhere. The trick with clothes is quite complicated, it will require further practice,' added McGonagall with a grin.

We went to his office, but he was not there. One of the wizards in a painting told us he was not expecting him back till evening, so we rushed to our respective classrooms. I transformed my piece of wood in a bouquet of tiny white flowers, with heart shaped dark-green leaves and grey ribbons. McGonagall laughed, I did too. The others must have thought my madness is contagious.

~~~:> ~~~:> ~~~:>

Dumbledore was not back for dinner. The good news will have to wait.

Severus returned with me to my chamber. He showed me his Patronus: a female Thestral, huge, powerful. Like the one who almost killed him when he was a boy. He explained that the Patronus is the animal one perceives as strong enough to be invincible. Harry materializes a stag because he thinks so highly of his father. McGonagall has this vivid childhood memory of a huge, dangerous dog: that has become her Patronus. For me, it had to be a Basilisk. Logical. I hope Ron was scared in early childhood by something, anything but a spider ...

He left me to sleep alone. He said we are too happy, tonight, to risk it. His smile warmed the room more than a fire.

~~~:> ~~~:> ~~~:>

Friday, December 10

After lunch Severus, McGonagall and I returned with Dumbledore to his office. I showed him, it comes easier every time. We were all so happy, when I transformed back and dressed we sat down and McGonagall poured some tea. We were chattering over how nice and quiet things have been, since a good number of Voldemort's followers are back in Azkaban, the ones who are out keep a low profile and even Draco is too busy with Karen to be our usual pain in the neck, when the conversation took an unexpected turn. Or maybe I should not say that. Lately my happiness is short-lived.

Severus, who had been in silence for a while, dropped in the conversation.

'This is all so good, now you can move on to your next problem.'

'Please, Severus, doesn't she deserve a break?' McGonagall suddenly lost her good humour and looked worried again.

'She does. Unfortunately she doesn't have time for it. Professor Dumbledore, she has the right to know.' Silence.

'Yes, she does,' he replied with a sigh. So he told me.

'Curious how it all started with a book you should not have been able to read, Hermione. A book that Voldemort knows inside out.'

'He could not have read it, the bastard,' I interrupted. Dumbledore went on.

'He had a teacher who could read it, all of it. She was my teacher as well. In her youth she was for a short time Transfiguration Professor in Hogwarts. Head of Slytherin house. She was registered as a chameleon, but the few times she transformed we all ended up with horrible headaches. She was not a chameleon at all, as I found out quite some time later. Her name was Marla Thornhill. The greatest black sorceress of her time. Draco's great grandmother. From his mother side.

'Animagi transmission is matrilineal. The males have to learn it the hard way. Her youngest daughter married in the Black family: you sure remember her portrait's greetings. The older married Theophilus Lestrange and had three daughters: Bellatrix, Marla and Narcissa. Your birthday is May 23, Draco's the 15 of March: therefore you cannot be his sister. I have tried to locate Marla, but I have run into a wall. She is the outcast of the family; obviously she never shared many values with the rest of them. She is very likely your mother, but we cannot be sure till we find her.

'Bellatrix is not the mother type,' he reluctantly added.

'She would not have kept the baby anyway, if she had one,' interrupted Severus.

Mother - Mrs Granger - had said there was only hatred in her eyes. Dumbledore resumed talking.

'This is all pointless speculation. We will find her. And your father as well. Your priority now is to make sure your snake aggressiveness is an asset and not a threat. It will be very difficult, in the next future. It is a great gift, what you have received, regardless of whom you have received it from, please do your best to remember it.'

Then he asked Severus to remove my House-arrest Spell, and told me I could go back to Gryffindor Tower, if I wanted.

I don't. I don't belong there anymore. I like it better in my dungeon chamber. How can I look at Harry or Neville in the face anymore? Bellatrix Lestrange is my aunt, if I'm lucky.

<><><><><><><>

I was too horrified to think straight, only now it occurred to me: Draco is my cousin, and that slimy, arrogant, treacherous murderer of his father is my uncle.

In my dream I was dancing with him, I was wearing an emerald green silk dress. Oh God!

<><><><><><><>

Dumbledore just left my cell. He said he wanted to leave me alone to meditate about this whole story, but not too long. He has conjured up an 'official version' of what happened and insisted I better stick to it. This is how it sounds:

He also told me that he visited with the Grangers, back in October, and asked if he could put a Legilimens Spell on her, to see my mother in her memory. She agreed and he did, but could not make it too strong: she is just a Muggle. He was able to see a shadow, with long, dark, curly hair and two grey eyes as cold as ice. She could be anyone. He will keep trying to locate Marla Lestrange, but with caution; we don't want to attract attention.

He did not tell me any of this before because I was having enough troubles with my transformation. Informing me that not only Draco but also Nagini is very likely my cousin would not have helped. I am disgusted beyond words. And worried for Severus. It is obvious that a good Death Eater would pass this information onto his Master. If he doesn't, his loyalty to Him takes another blow. When I expressed these concerns to Dumbledore he very strongly reiterated that my birth secret must remain as such, it would have been even better if I had not told my friends. This is the only point where I disagree with him, but I was not in the mood for further discussions.

Tomorrow I will return to Gryffindor Tower. Severus is not coming tonight, it was just a play. I was such an idiot.

<><><><><><><>

Sunday, December 12

This afternoon I asked Ron, Harry, Ginny and Neville to come to the Room of Requirement and told them everything. I don't care what Dumbledore's plan of secrecy calls for; they are (they were, I am not sure anymore) my friends. They deserve to know.

I told Neville that I am a pureblood and a born Animagus, and then I showed them how I look in my snake form.

I summarized my family lineage, from Sharina all the way to Bellatrix, who is very likely my aunt. No one said a word. I pointed out that to divulge any of this would probably cost me more than I deserve to pay, whatever they may think about the last two months and left them there to figure out who I am.

If anyone finds out I hope he tells me, because I don't have a clue anymore.

<><><><><><><>

Monday, December 13

This morning I walked in the snow, to go to the Apparition test site. Snakes are cold-blooded. I dislike the cold much more now than before, even in human form. The sun was too bright, my eyes started changing, but I don't think anyone noticed. I'm so behind schedule I will have to lock myself in the library, for a change.

At lunch Ginny updated me on a few romantic developments I missed while I was so busy deluding myself: Harry is trying very hard to hit on Luna (they spend a lot of time at Hagrid's because she has such a passion for strange creatures); Ron keeps fantasizing over Eliana but writes her only about Quidditch; Draco is going steady with Karen (I though I noticed his proficiency in Potions has drastically improved); she (Ginny) will not tell me anything about herself.

If I didn't have to attend Parsel lessons I could almost pretend all was back to normal.

<><><><><><><>

Thursday, December 16

Tonight Severus told me we should return to the Book of the 37 Deaths, if I can handle it, because he wants to bring me far enough so I can then continue on my own. I asked why I should continue on my own, since he said from the beginning he was so curious about the second part of the book.

'Because I'm a Death Eater and a traitor. I will be discovered, sooner or later, and will pay for my mistakes. No one double-crosses the Dark Lord for very long. I will die a horrible death, I know it, you know it. You have seen how it is done in your dream. I have seen it in person, once, almost twenty years ago. The executions are carried out in front of the whole Assembly. I don't know how much time we still have, we should get the most out of it.'

<><><><><><><>

Tuesday, December 21

I will spend Christmas here: I'm too behind. I will visit the Grangers for one day, I still don't know when or how. Maybe McGonagall would like to accompany me.

<><><><><><><>

Thursday, December 23

I got the best present ever.

From now on Christmas comes on December 23, for me.

At breakfast McGonagall told me that we had been invited to dinner at the Grangers'. Since she was busy Severus would take me there. She added with a grin that he had promised to keep all his Slytherin's racist rubbish at bay, for one night. I had doubts. It seemed I had no choice either.

We left right after lunch, went to Hogsmeade, used the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks again, reappeared in my parents' living room. Whoever unlocked their fireplace made it also temporarily big enough to stand in it, unlike I remember it was originally. They were waiting for us, happy as I had never seen them before, hugged me, Mum almost hugged Severus too.

'There is a surprise for you, in the kitchen,' she said right away.

I went. McGonagall was there, and another witch, too. She was standing in a corner, staring at me, frozen. My mother. There is no way I can write what went through my mind while I was standing there. Finally she moved, I run to her and embraced her. I started crying. She is not Bellatrix - my mother is not a mad monster.

We returned to the living room and sat down on the couches. We could not stop looking at each other. No one spoke; we were all waiting to hear her story.

'I don't know were to start, so I will take it from the beginning.

'As you probably know, I was never comfortable at home. When it was time for me to go to school, I insisted to apply at Beauxbatons. I did not want to have anything to do with Hogwarts and the Slytherins. I spent seven quiet years there, mostly in the library. I did not have many friends.

'When it was time to leave the school I really didn't want to. Dennis, the librarian, was at the time already 132 years old. The sweetest wizard I had ever known. His retirement was long overdue; he went to the Board of Directors and suggested they give me his position. I was only 18 years old, I would have been the youngest librarian in history, but I had practically lived in that library, there was no one who knew it better than I, except Dennis. They accepted his proposal, I got the job.'

A librarian. Imagine that!

'Dennis did another wonderful thing for me. He married me. To give me his name, his house. He survived another eight years. New students came, new professors. After a while I was just Marla Klusmeyer, the librarian, the granddaughter of the previous one. I have lived and worked there since. I led a pretty uneventful life, one could say.'

There was an event worth mentioning, though, we were all waiting to hear about. She went on.

'Dennis is not your father. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I don't know who your father is. I don't want to talk about it; I don't have anything helpful to say.

'I could not keep you with me. I hoped that your powers would not be too strong, maybe you would not be detected, would grow up with your muggle parents, and enjoy a normal and safe life.

'There is a curse in our family, one I spent all my life trying to forget.'

'It is not a question of memory. Show her, Hermione.' Why does he do that, all the time? Too late, Mother had perfectly clear what it was that I should show her, in Severus' opinion. So I did.

She looked at me, said nothing. Her eyes were cold and full of hatred, again. Then the ice melted and she started weeping. Moaning. Like a wounded animal. I transformed back. Mum and Dad looked not nearly horrified enough: McGonagall must have forewarned them.

I held her hands, talked to her. I repeated Dumbledore's words, told her it is a great gift, it doesn't matter where it comes from, it is what one does with it that makes all the difference. I have been repeating the speech to myself so many times I made it sound convincing. She slowly calmed down. McGonagall must have also explained to the Grangers in advance that Mother would have taken it very badly, they didn't say a word.

Then it was my turn to tell my story. I talked the whole afternoon. I finally got to tell Mum and Dad a lot, leaving out only the dangerous parts: none of them needs to know just yet.

There was only another tense moment: at dinner Mother asked Severus what was he doing, for a living, and he answered her he taught Potions at Hogwarts and was Head of Slytherin house.

'Are you also a Death Eater?' she asked then, in a teasing way.

'Yes, of course. What else would you have expected?' answered Severus, in the same tone.

'Then you should know something: if He, whose name should not be spoken, or anyone in my family finds out about Hermione, I will come to you and make you wish you had not been born.' A cold, gloomy smile was frozen on her face.

'You would have to get in line: I have already promised him that,' I intervened, making it sound like a joke, like the whole conversation was one. Dad had two big question marks painted in his eyes. McGonagall plunged in and started telling Mum about what she teaches at Hogwarts. Obviously she had told them before.

We chatted non-stop till McGonagall reminded us we had to use the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks to return to Hogwarts, since I cannot Apparate yet, we better go before they close. Mother promised to show me her library, as soon as it could be safely organized, probably during the summer break. We will have to resist the temptation to write one another, meanwhile. Then she turned to Mum and Dad, hugged them long and hard, and Disapparated.

We said goodbye. Severus and I left using the fireplace, McGonagall stayed behind to lock it back, then joined us outside the pub and we walked together to the castle in silence. It was snowing lightly, peacefully; it still is.

When I arrived in Gryffindor's common room Harry was there, asleep with a book in his lap and Crookshanks on it. I woke him. I had to tell him right away that my mother is Marla, not Bellatrix. We brightened our goodnights with the biggest of smiles and went up to our dormitories. I was too excited to sleep, so I reached straight for my diary. I love to write!

I still don't know who my father is, and it looks like I never will. Maybe it is better this way.

* * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, December 24

I spent the whole morning telling Harry about yesterday.

I wish I could tell everyone.

Of course I cannot, also because there is no one here but Harry.

Even Ron is away. Viktor invited him to a Quidditch workshop. Obviously Eliana is going to be there as well. She doesn't play. Quidditch, I mean.

Which reminds me: so far Gryffindor has won against Hufflepuff and Slytherin has beaten both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. It seems cousin Draco is playing much better this year. Love must have improved his eyesight, not just his character. He has always been a good flyer, anyhow.

<><><><><><><>

What am I saying?

<><><><><><><>

Saturday, December 25

I was hoping there would be no present for me under the tree, this morning. First of all I had just received more than I could wish for and, second, I was so screwed up I did not get them anything. In fact there was nothing for me. Harry got the usual jumper from Mrs Weasley, a subscription to Quidditch Today from Ron and a tiny toy Snitch from Luna, which took off and smashed a few times onto anything on its path before falling to pieces.

After breakfast I was alone in the Great Hall, reading and sipping some tea, when a very small owl landed by me, dropped a little package and flew away.

There was no card, not even my name on the package. Still it was evidently for me, so I opened it. Inside I found an emerald pendant, shaped as a tear. Hanging from a gold chain so thin I didn't notice it at first. Gorgeous.

The chain was long but, as soon as I passed my head through it, shortened itself to just the right length. I wonder if it will shorten itself again when I transform.

A snake with a colour coordinated necklace. Cool!

I went to Severus to thank him.

He told me I must not show it to anyone.

He said he did not send me any present. I don't believe him. Who else could have been? Who cares? Did I already say how gorgeous it is?

<><><><><><><>

Monday, December 27

Today I began practicing spells in Parsel. As a snake. Holding the wand with my tail. Hilarious. It is like being in first year all over again. Windgardium Leviosa, ha! The funniest is that Severus doesn't have a clue. I have a blind professor teaching me how to paint. Entertaining, indeed.

The chain of my pendant changes length as required. I look very stylish.

<><><><><><><>

Saturday, January 1

[Heeissss - ssaessahs - sssehkis]

That means 'Happy New Year' in Parsel.

Sort of.

Snakes don't care much for official celebrations.

<><><><><><><>

Sunday, January 2

Everyone is back, pity. It was nice to have Hogwarts practically all to myself, even though, if I think about it, I spent most of the time in Severus' office, studying Parsel and the Book of Horrors, Part one, or with Minerva, practicing Apparition. She has been so incredibly helpful. I will be more than ready for March's test.

<><><><><><><>

Tuesday, January 4

This morning, while we were waiting in front of the classroom, Karen showed her girlfriends the silver bracelet Draco gave her for Christmas. I jumped in and showed them my pendant. I know I shouldn't have.

Draco arrived, saw it, grabbed it as if he wanted to rip it off my neck. He started grinning, chuckling, then laughing, hysterically. Severus opened the classroom door.

'ENOUGH!

'I TOLD YOU NOT TO SHOW IT TO ANYONE.'

'Yes, but -' I began. He didn't pay any attention and turned to Draco.

'Speak about it to anyone in the school and I kill you. The hard way.'

It didn't sound a figure of speech. Draco let go of the pendant and I slipped it back under my shirt.

What ensued was the worst lesson imaginable. Severus made a couple of silly mistakes, kept changing subject, took points from every House, including his, gave detention to practically everyone but forgot to specify it.

Draco kept staring at me; Karen was so pissed off she left without cleaning up his cauldron as usual.

I'm so sorry. It is all my fault.

Then again, didn't he overreact? After all, the whole school thinks already we are in love. What's so terrible if someone finds out he gave me a present?

<><><><><><><>

Monday, January 17

I spent the past two weekends practicing Apparition all by myself, because my dear friends Ron and Harry were too busy having fun with Luna and Eliana in Hogsmeade.

<><><><><><><>

Tuesday, January 25

This evening at dinner I felt again the burning on my left forearm. Severus got up. I did too. He looked into my eyes and I heard his voice clear in my head saying: 'Sit down and don't do anything foolish, don't make things worse, please.' He left. Dinner was over. I could not bring myself to go. Suddenly a horrible feeling began growing inside me. I ran to Dumbledore's office. I told him. He said there is nothing we can do. I don't believe him. It is full moon. We cannot let him die. I will not let him die. He disarmed me and locked me up inside some kind of energy bubble, for my own protection, he said, and left. I was totally isolated, I didn't know if I could not perceive his agony because of the shield or because he was dead. It took me forever to break out of the bubble using only the tip of my tail. And then I still could not feel him. I was desperate. I don't know why I thought of running to the hospital ward. The glasses of one of the windows where shattered on t! he floor. There was blood all over. At the far end of the ward one bed was enclosed by curtains. I ran to it. There was a body on the bed, completely covered by a dark shroud. Everything went black and I passed out. When I came to, McGonagall was there. She told me he was badly wounded but alive. He got back flying on his Patronus. The shroud is a sort of power blanket; it concentrates the energy and helps with the healing. He will survive. I love him. I will not let him die. I will go to Lord Voldemort, mate with Nagini, become a Death Eater; I don't care what it takes. I will not let him die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday, February 1

Madam Pomfrey held Potions this morning.

I do not remember a word.

She doesn't let me see Severus; she says he must not be disturbed.

I cannot sit here and write just to keep myself busy.

<><><><><><><>

I went to his office. He had told me how to unlock the door. I opened the vault and took the Book. Opened it to the last page. Transformed. Turned one more page. I felt sucked into the book, found myself floating in a bright light. There was another snake there with me. Black, shining, her eyes were black too. I kept hearing my voice uttering the incantation to open the vault. We started the slow dance. At the end she pulled away from me. She changed. Her colour became emerald green; she was wearing the pendant. She greeted me. Called me Daughter. The light died and I was in Severus' office again, the book in front of me. I went through it. Chapter 19 is again about restrains, chapter 20 about the Cruciatus Curse. It is so much better. I must try it on someone. Voldemort, the bastard. Not yet. Must wait - finish reading the book first - one month

will be ready - hungry NOT NOW Control - severus - he needs me

he caresses me says I'm beautiful

his hands are warm

his blood is warm - sweet

NO

Maybe it would be best if I killed myself.

<><><><><><><>

Wednesday, February 2

As we were walking out the Great Hall, after breakfast, I told Draco to meet me tonight in Severus' office, after dinner. I said I had something to show him.

I was there early, to get a dose of Veritaserum from one of the locked cabinets and prepare a nice drink for him. He didn't want to drink it. He drank it, eventually. He told me all he knew about the pendant. He knew a lot. At the end I asked him to pick a number from 2 to 37. He chose seventeen. I told him he will not see his seventeenth birthday if he runs to Daddy and tells him about our so very interesting evening together. He will instead experience first hand the seventeenth Avada Curse, from our Family Book. Then I showed him how beautiful I am and let him go.

The pendant. Our most precious family heirloom.

It belonged to Sharina. It has been passed on from mother to the first-born daughter till today.

There is a strange ritual that is supposed to be performed with it, when one wants to get pregnant, to improve the chances of having a snake daughter. Bellatrix had the pendant, but when Narcissa got married she was apparently only too happy to pass it to her sister, since she didn't want to have a family. The fact that, years before, Marla had married a decrepit librarian was of course never considered worth mentioning. Narcissa had the pendant, but a male child was born. She kept it, hoping to try again.

Draco told me that on Christmas Eve his parents had a terrible fight. Lucius took the pendant from her by force. The next day I received it.

This ritual must not be that important, after all.

The big question now is how did uncle Lucius find out about me.

If he knows, then also Bellatrix and Voldemort do.

Maybe Severus did not escape from his execution; it was only a punishment for not having informed Him. Or maybe he is the one who told them and was punished for something else he did or did not do. I must ask him as soon as he is strong enough to drink some of his own Veritaserum, I don't believe anyone anymore. I'm tired of finding out bits and pieces of truth one at the time.

I could ask uncle Lucius right now, if I find a way to meet him alone. I wouldn't need the serum, to question him. I have a brand new spell to try out. I could -

I must not think about it. I need to keep my mind cool and focused.

I will go to bed and sleep. Calm down. Rest.

Tomorrow I will decide what to do next.

<><><><><><><>

Thursday, February 3

It is five in the morning. Ginny woke me because I was speaking in Parsel, the glasses of my window were shaking and she got scared.

I thanked her. I was having one nightmare after another.

You know, dear Diary, after Draco left I got the Book out and studied the seventeenth Avada Curse, just in case. Well, I dreamed I used it against Lucius. A very long dream.

Others were shorter.

I was in the Great Hall. I arched my body. All the students and the professors stood in line to pass through. When it was Severus' turn he said he didn't want to go through because he did not want to see Sirius again. He was crying, so I let him go back in the garden to play.

I was playing the harp. I couldn't hear the music, but all the strings turned into little black snakes which started dancing, twisting around one another. I could not play anymore, I was very upset, and so I froze them. They took all the colours of the rainbow, I could not tell which string was which, I still could not play.

I was on a cruise ship with Mum and Dad. We were on the upper deck looking out to the see, which was blood-red. I was thinking that one of those days I would have to kill them too, they are Muggles, it is irrelevant that they have been so nice to me.

There are three more nightmares I remember but, no matter what Mrs Weasley said, I cannot bring myself to write them down.

<><><><><><><>

I tried to take off the pendant. I was not overly surprised to find out I cannot. Lucius could take it from Narcissa because it didn't belong to her. I should have known better. I should not have put it on in the first place. I was so sure it was from Severus.

What if I cannot control myself and I become the monster my family expects me to be?

Moreover, can I control a thousand years of horrors flowing in my veins, hanging from my neck?

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I will not do anything till I speak with Severus. I will attend lessons, eat, chat with my friends, go to his office at night and keep studying, just in case.

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Sunday, February 6

I went to Hogsmeade with my friends. Eliana was there, again. Maybe she landed a weekend job at the Three Broomsticks.

Has she changed, since the time of the picture Viktor gave me! I don't know what Ron sees in her. She is so snotty and aloof. I told him. He says I'm jealous. He should know: he is the expert.

Anyway, Ron, Harry, Luna and I met her in the pub. Then Hagrid arrived. Eliana shares Luna's passion for strange creatures, she wanted to meet him. She asked him all sorts of questions about various monsters, with particular attention to Aragog and his progeny. She has a weakness for spiders, especially gigantic, deadly ones. Hagrid was ecstatic. Ron was in dire straits, he could not admit in front of her how much he is afraid of them, and with good reasons, I may add.

I don't like her. I'm not jealous. I just don't.

She must not like me either. Besides from 'Hallo' and 'Goodbye' she did not speak a word to me the whole afternoon.

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Severus is still in the hospital ward, in isolation. He had to use all the strength he had left to materialize his Patronus, this must be why it is taking him so long to heal. I'm sure that in one of his locked cabinets there is some other wonder drug that would help and our Nurse would never dare to use. If only I knew what to look for ...

I don't know what He did to him. I hate Him. I -

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Tuesday, February 15

Madam Pomfrey came to replace Severus, again.

I told her that a nurse who could not heal was not qualified to teach anything, especially Potions, and left the classroom.

I went to the Owlery and sent Lucius Malfoy the following message:

I want to know what was done to Severus Snape and how he can be healed.

You were probably there, you should know.

If you don't, find out.

You may have heard I have become short-tempered, lately.

If you find it difficult to grasp how heartbreaking it is to worry about the well being of a loved one, I will help you understand.

Hermione

I bewitched the scroll to make it burn itself up short after being unrolled.

While I was leaving the Owlery, Dumbledore arrived. He always knows when his presence is required. He asked me what I was doing there. I was so mad that I told him. He said he knew already what kind of spell had been used against Severus. It is one of Bellatrix's specialties. It is a locked spell, on top of everything else. It can be unlocked, thus making the recovery period shorter, by the one who did it. Or by someone who can master those kinds of spells and has seen exactly how it was performed.

Severus had spoken only few words, and they were: 'Don't let her go.' Dumbledore told me he promised him and he was going to keep me in Hogwarts, for my own protection. I was hit with the House-arrest Spell again, this time I fought back. I lost, evidently. I am again locked in a cell in the dungeon, a different one. This is much smaller. They brought me all my stuff, because I will remain imprisoned here till Severus is well enough not to require my rescue anymore, which should not take more than one month. Before leaving Dumbledore hit me with one more spell, one he and McGonagall are developing for Remus. It stabilizes one's physical structure, thus not allowing the transformation to take place. It has worked for the past three months, for Remus; still needs improvements because of numerous side effects. He stressed I must not try to transform. He even said 'Please'.

'If this is what a supposed protector does I could just imagine what an enemy would do,' I commented dryly.

He replied: 'Do that. You have collected enough data,' and left.

He took my wand, needless to say. I still have Sharina's pendant. He must not know about it. It would not make any difference if he did, since he would have to behead me to remove it, and he would not go that far to 'protect' me. It is time I discover what I can dig out of our family heirloom.

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Saturday, June 4

This is going to be my last entry. I have written so much, here, I feel compelled to finish laying down the whole story, now that I finally have all the pieces together. I will give this diary to Marla. Of all people, she is the one who deserves to know.

It all started with Eliana and her pure-blood obsession. She would have made a fine Death Eater. She was out of her mind when Viktor became interested in me, during the Tournament: Hermione Granger, a Mudblood. She must have hoped Viktor would eventually forget me, but we kept writing one another. When last summer I wrote him about what had just happened in the Ministry of Magic and he told her, she flipped over. Not only was I a Mudblood, I even dared to fight His followers!

So she had the idea of giving me the Book. It was protected by a very serious spell, I'm so happy I did not show it to Harry. She was later heftily punished for having tried to kill me, the fact that she did not know who and what I was, and that her intentions were laudable (from their point of view) being totally irrelevant.

But I have known about it only recently, when Viktor found a bunch of letters she had received (unsigned, but it was quite clear whom they had come from) and painfully explained it to me. Let's go back to middle February, when Dumbledore locked me up in the dungeon. I was rescued by the two people I would have least expected: Draco and his girlfriend Karen.

Lucius had taken my threat very seriously and sent right away the answer to his son, who should have discretely delivered it to me. When he informed his father he could not, because I was locked up, Lucius panicked, ordered Draco to find a way to free me and send me to him. He was obviously picturing himself being the next in line for his sister-in-law specialty spells.

Draco could not pull it off all by himself. Crabbe and Goyle are just good gorillas, we all know they lack brainpower. So he turned to Karen, told her all he knew and solicited her help. She helped him all right, just not the way Lucius wanted.

Her mother is a Healer. Karen had asked her already if she knew anything that could benefit Severus. After Draco told her what it was all about, she came to the conclusion that her mother refused to help not because she didn't know how. They opened Lucius' message for me and found out which spell had been used. That same night the two flew together out of Hogwarts, then Karen Disapparated and went home. She had taken the test last year: to Apparate is of paramount importance for a Healer.

She came back to Draco with the recipe for a healing potion, which requires a few tears of the wizard who delivered the curse. She thought I was so closely related that also some of mine would have sufficed. With that in mind they came to the dungeon.

Meanwhile I had managed to materialize my Patronus and made him chew on the energy barrier Dumbledore had laid on the wall, floor and ceiling of my cell. He had just finished poking a hole big enough for a young snake to slither through when they pried the door open. I transformed and, side effects notwithstanding, sneaked out. Karen told me about the potion. At first I did not believe them, I thought it was just another trick, until Draco handed me his wand as a sign of good faith.

We went to the Room of Requirement, which was helpful enough to provide us with all necessary ingredients for the potion, so Karen began to cook it. I was so happy at the thought that Severus would be healed, it was not difficult for me to cry. Before dawn I left them there and went to Dumbledore office, carrying Draco's wand, just in case.

Our Headmaster allowed me to speak without further fighting. He was angry, relieved, proud, worried all at the same time. He muttered I should definitely be expelled, if only this didn't play right in Voldemort's hands.

In three days Karen's potion was ready and on Tuesday, February 22, Professor Severus Snape resumed his Potions NEWT class.

I can officially affirm we were all happy to see him, maybe even Harry.

Severus explained me that Lord Voldemort had found out I was a snake already at the end of September, when he was summoned by Him, as I had figured by the burning on my forearm, and cousin Nagini smelled some of my blood on his robe.

Voldemort was in seventh Heaven - or Hell, maybe ... He ordered Severus to work me out and bring me to Him when ready. Sharina's pendant and wand would have been delivered to me as soon as suitable. Severus was able to walk the thin line between obeying Him and keeping me from going mad or worse till my first transformation, in December. Then Lucius sent me his Christmas present.

After that Voldemort grew impatient and thought Severus could be more useful almost dead in the hospital ward. He was betting I would lose control and try to get the undo-spell from Bellatrix. In fact I almost did. When that did not occur, He decided to return to the original plan and let Severus destroy my soul. With a little help from Eliana.

I'm almost sure Viktor's accident was her doing, a vengeance, another attempt to keep him away from me. Anyway, after her punishment she was ordered to find a way to come to Hogwarts. Ron was such an easy target, when he went to the meeting in my place! She would arrange another big incident, like the one with the Basilisk, years before. The school would be closed, once and for all. It almost worked.

It happened around 8.25 p.m. the following Saturday, February 26.

Dumbledore had commissioned a fabulous dinner to celebrate Karen's proficiency with potions and Severus' recovery. We were surprised that Hagrid was not there. He never liked Severus much, (honestly, who does?) but still ... He showed up while we were eating dessert, carrying a jug of something. He looked like he had been celebrating quite a lot already. He said he was sorry; he had brought enough for one last toast. He went around the table and poured a glass full to Dumbledore and to every one of the professors. They all drank to Severus. They all fell face down on the table. Except Hagrid.

He stood there, pulled a wand out of his vest, locked the gate with a Colloportum Spell and, in the disbelieving silence that followed, declared that the feast would continue.

They came down through the ceiling, sliding on their silk threads. Big, small, gigantic. Thousands of them. Aragog's children. Chaos ensued. All the students were running for cover, screaming, throwing spells. There were so many of them, all over. I barely noticed that I had transformed. I used the Parsel version of the 'Glumbumbels spell'. It worked, of course. I just broke my wand, again.

We were facing one another, Hagrid and I. He pointed his wand at me. Mine was broken. I evoked my Patronus. I had never tried it before as a snake. We were looking at one another. Before I realized what was happening, he fell behind the table.

Horrified I transformed back. The first to recover was Ginny, who of course had seen that spell before. She threw my slimy robe over me. Harry run to the teachers' table. Others followed. I was paralysed. My mind went blank. There was a lot of running around; still it all seemed to happen in slow motion. Finally Severus came to me and whispered there was something I should see. He gently pushed me forward; we walked to the professors' table, behind it. On the floor, buried in Hagrid's huge clothes, laid the body of Eliana, the wand still in her hand. The Polyjuice Potion works only if you are alive.

There was an inquiry. A very short one. For the record, Hagrid was found in his hut, drugged and almost naked. All the professors had recovered in a matter of minutes because they had been given only a mild sedative: she must have thoughtfully tried not to ruin the taste of the dessert. When I first transformed there was total anarchy, nobody was paying attention to me. Then, after the spell, everyone was covered by a thick layer of dark slime, anyway they could not have seen well through it. Officially Eliana was killed by my Patronus. It was beyond doubt that she was killed by a Basilisk.

The day after the inquiry, as I was sitting in the common room pretending to read, Harry came to me.

'It was in self-defence. I didn't mean it; I didn't know it would happen. He deserved it, anyway,' he said.

I knew that, I had been repeating it to myself forever.

'This is what I repeated to myself for a long time, after I killed Professor Quirrell,' he added. I decided I would get another wand, after all.

Severus and I went back to Diagon Alley the following Saturday. Mr Ollivander had read about what happened in the Daily Prophet, like everyone else. He sadly looked at his wand one last time. The best he had to offer was one with a Manticore hair, hand carved mahogany, very expensive, but he would give it to me at a bargain price because it had been sitting on the shelf for at least a century, he was quite happy to get rid of it. I didn't like it too much, I didn't care. I paid and we went back to the pub and then to Hogsmeade.

She was sitting on one of the big stones flanking the path from the village to Hogwarts, waiting for us. She was not even wearing a hood. She slid down the rock, pulled out her wand. Instinctively so did I. New wand, never tried before, she disarmed me. She grabbed it, threw hers at me, Disapparated. It all happened so quickly.

'This time you know upfront where your present comes from,' commented Severus.

It is shining black. It felt perfect, right from the moment I touched it. I still don't know what's inside. Fortunately, no one has dared to ask me.

If I think about it, the three months that followed have been the happiest of my life. So happy I didn't want to write anything in my Diary of Nightmares and Bad Luck.

Having saved the whole school with one single spell restored my popularity, making everyone oblivious of the body left on the floor at the end on that memorable evening. I would still catch a slightly fearful look, now and then, especially from the younger students, but it did not affect my mood much. Professor Pacchiotti was already living through every Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson like it was going to be his last one ...

On March 15 I gave Draco a present for his birthday. Kind of a Thank-you-for-saving-me-from-them-if-that-was-ever-your-idea thing: Social Sciences: the XX century Revolution, by Jeremy Maylevee.

Two weeks later Slytherin defeated Gryffindor, thus ensuring the year's Cup. Love has done wonders for Draco's Quidditch performance, not so much for Harry who has become distracted, moody but happier than we have seen him in a long time. Angelina wasn't happy at all. Ron had not played too well also; he was at that point busy being mad at himself for having been so blind. Ginny played great. Still no clue about her love life.

In March I also passed my Apparition test, finally. The hardest I ever had to go through. Minerva says it is normal, for us, to have difficulties in Apparating. She never had to hide it, though.

My studies were proceeding to my satisfaction, both the daily schedule and the evenings with Severus. By end April I had finished the first run through our book. He was thrilled to - no, I would not say that. He was thrilled that I could read him the second part of the book. His interest made me overlook what it was that I was relaying to him, most of the times. Whoever reads this may find comfort in knowing that the majority of those spells would not work well if the wand is not held with the tail. Something to do with the flow of energy, which is not sufficiently coherent when in human form.

Severus and I were still playing the pain game that was our cover up for Voldemort, when in public, but with another taste added to it. And a lot more caution from my part. My new wand was handling beautifully but, every time I directed a spell to any living creature, it would tend to, let say, overshoot.

It was late spring, we were in love, the weather was warm, the birds were singing, it could not last.

On my birthday I had received a lot of nice presents.

A book on ancient Celtic Myths from my parents with a note stressing how beautifully green Ireland is in summer, the last two weeks of July, to be more specific ...

A tableau of Parsel calligraphy, supposedly painted in 1365 by someone who thought better not to sign it. It was sweet of Harry; of course he doesn't read it, so he couldn't possibly know it was a fake.

A photography album of The Weirdest Animagi in the History of Witchcraft from Ron. This too could be a fake, I thought, when I browsed through it.

A scarf in the colours of Slytherin house from Karen. Self-explanatory.

Ginny gave me The Manual of the Perfect House Witch, published in London in 1874. Very funny!

Dinner was over and Severus had not given me anything. I was surprised and disappointed to say the least. Then he got up, came to our table and asked me if I would mind accompanying him to his office. Finally!

We walked in silence. His face was indecipherable.

He locked the door behind us, then pulled a small box out of his pocket. He said his present for me was his life, I was an adult now, it was my decision. I thought he was asking me to marry him. I was standing by the window. I looked outside. The landscape was so bright and peaceful. It was only when I looked at the moon, a full moon, that I understood.

I kept looking out of the window, I could not see well because I had tears in my eyes. He caressed my hair, gently. We kissed till the burning was unbearable. Then he pulled out the box again, I touched it. It was a Portkey. We landed in the graveyard.

Writing that I was not scared would be a lie, and there are already enough lies permanently engraved in this diary.

They were all standing in circle around us. Many, too many. They must have been busy recruiting. I thought they were waiting for me to transform, but I was too tense, it didn't happen. So I started talking.

'I imagine this is not the way it works around here, but I would like to ask some questions. For instance: does anyone know who my father is?'

'What a dumb question. Of course I do,' she replied.

'I am your father,' interrupted Lucius. It did not strike me as a big revelation.

'Yes, you had to sire a snake, no matter if a rape is what it took. Disgusting.'

He went on. 'Now, Hermione, don't jump to conclusions. It was an accident. It shouldn't have happened. We did not perform the ritual, my wife had the pendant and she was already pregnant. We were young. You know how it is, when playing with certain kinds of spells ... We were carried away. I wouldn't call it rape, not really.' He was smirking, the pig.

Marla deceived me, I thought. She knew and didn't tell me.

Then Bellatrix continued.

'We could not keep you. It was - well - embarrassing. He wanted to get rid of you right away, but you were a baby girl, no one kills a daughter of Sharina, no matter how she came into being. So I dropped in a maternity ward to leave you there. I stumbled upon this female, whining, weak. Pathetic. I couldn't bare the sight of her. I dumped you and left.'

Severus' hand on my shoulder was an iron grip. He didn't know either. I could tell he was furious, not only with the two of them. I think I was desperate.

'I have a birthday present for you, Daughter of Sharina,' one of the hooded wizard spoke. His cold, vibrating voice shook me. My brain started working again.

We could not fight them. Too many. Maybe they had received the order not to kill me, but Severus didn't stand a chance.

The 'Glumbumbels spell' was out of the question because it would hit him as well.

The best idea I came up with was to transform and then use my latest version of my Patronus on Him, so I did.

He was impressed. He spoke to me. It was more like a song; no one had ever spoken to me like that. It was about Severus. How weak he had become, how useless. He dared interrupting. He was not singing. He stated he was not weak; he was in love with someone named Hermione. He said I knew. If I thought about it, I would remember. He was right. I transformed back.

I told the Dark Lord Sharina's Daughter was perhaps ready to carry out His wishes, but I was not. I had much more to learn, and I liked the teacher I already had, even though he could not sing so enchantingly. I would take anything He desired to give me, as long as I could share it with Severus. I told Him I would share everything with him, even the cross. He gave me his birthday present. I bear it with me all the time, on my left forearm.

I don't know why Marla lied to me about being my mother. Maybe it was out of compassion. I will ask her, when I bring her this diary. She did not send me any gift because she doesn't know my birthday is on May 23. Instead she allowed me a few months of happiness, helped me go a little further on the very difficult road set before me.

Now it is my turn to lie. To Dumbledore, to my friends. I had great many teachers; I have learned how to hide things. It will not be difficult: the Dark Mark shows only on my human skin. Not even He can spoil my beauty.

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