Sans Serpens

Recently on Sans Serpens: "You are dismissed, but first I wish to express my extreme disappointment in your inability to manage a group of sixteen-year olds. What word can I use to convey it?" he mock-questioned her; the look on his face was clearly the "calm before the storm".

"Ah, I know just the word for it: CRUCIO!" he cursed, and then his maniacal laugh echoed off of the circular stone walls, as the woman crumpled below him gasped for air between screams.

One thousand miles away, Harry Potter awoke in a cold sweat at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, visibly shaken, though not as bad as the poor soul who had endured two consecutive Cruciatus curses from the most powerful dark lord in a century.

Sans Serpens
Chapter One Startling Discoveries

Harry instantly sat upright and tried to recall what (or more importantly, who) he saw in his vision. Using his newly acquired Magus abilities, he rid himself of the pain that came along with a direct link to Voldemort, and began focusing on the dream he had just awoken from. The more he attempted to grasp the details the more they trickled out of his consciousness, like trying to cup water with your bare hands, only to find that it had somehow leaked through the cracks. Without a shadow of a doubt, he remembered the elder Malfoy being present in the beginning of his dream, followed by an unknown yet seemingly familiar witch, whose name had presently escaped Harry's memory. A break out from Azkaban had happened that clearly didn't please Voldemort, based on the fact that he punished Malfoy so severely for not preventing losses to their side. There was also talk of a mysterious orb. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't place the significance of the object, although he thought he detected a very strange emotion in Voldemort as he received it, one that could only be described as happiness. I'd better ask Hermione to research it for me, before it can be used against us. Harry lifted himself from his four-poster bed to scribble a reminder down so he wouldn't forget to owl her when Hedwig returned from hunting. Whatever could elicit such a foreign feeling in the Serpent King was definitely not good for the Wizarding World, much less for Harry. Something was terribly wrong here, and Harry was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter how long it took. Let's just hope, for the sake of everyone, that I can figure it out before it's too late. He sat and contemplated, as he gazed out into the starless night sky, just how he would explain this to Hermione and Ron.

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Entering from the backyard, she slowly followed the garden path to the small cottage she was currently living in, and silently opened the back door with a key she found beneath the welcome mat. She locked the door behind her manually, having no energy left for magic, and collapsed onto the nearest couch to rest her aching feet. Closing her eyes against the pain, Tiaret knew that she didn't have time to waste resting, so she rose from her seat moments later and started packing. The cottage's actual residents would be home soon, and she knew better than to be there when they showed up.

Tiaret sent off her owl to Dumbledore accepting his assignment, and glanced around to be sure she didn't leave anything unpacked. She grabbed her trunk, and vacated the tiny cottage. Looking back, she was glad that she would finally have one place to call "home", instead of having to relocate every few weeks. She raised her wand arm to signal the Knight Bus, and heaved her trunk on board. Hogwarts always felt like a second home to her, and after almost a decade she would be able to return to the castle. But she had to handle one last piece of business first.

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He needed to speak with Dumbledore and his friends, even if the security measures imposed on him at Grimmauld Place were specifically designed to lessen their contact with one another. Harry knew that the floo system in the kitchen was restricted for use only between the hours of ten and midnight, so he headed downstairs with his letters for Ron and Hermione, beckoning Hedwig to follow him. He grabbed the jar of floo powder from the mantelpiece and contemplated what he should tell Dumbledore about his vision. Opening the nearest window, he sent his owl off with his letter to Hermione. Harry was not aware of her exact location because she tended to go on lengthy vacations with her parents over the summer break. She hasn't written a single letter to me this summer; I wonder what's preventing her from keeping in touch. Harry thought to himself. Tossing a pinch of powder into the flame, he intoned "the Burrow" and flung Ron's letter through the fire. A few seconds later, the blaze receded once again to embers, and Harry added another handful of the granulated dust.

"Albus Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts Castle," he clearly stated. After a moment's pause, the Headmaster's ashen face appeared before the hearth. The ever-present twinkle usually found in Dumbledore's eyes was absent, instead replaced by a worn and aged look that Harry had never before seen in his Headmaster. He looked a mixture of worried, saddened, and in shock. His typical calm demeanor had faltered, and for once his true emotions shone through.

"Are you all right, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked before Dumbledore could fully compose himself.

"Fine, just fine, Harry. Is there anything in particular you wished to talk about?" Dumbledore inquired hurriedly. He tried to rebuild a mask of calm and certainty before Harry could take into account his current distressed state.

"I had another dream, Professor. There was a breakout from Azkaban and-" Harry was interrupted by the impatient voice of the Headmaster.

"I know, Harry, that's what the Order is handling at this very moment. Some of the escaped wizards have set fire to several Wizarding families' homes in the area. I'm awaiting a floo from Kingsley with a report of the damages." Dumbledore responded in hushed tones, absentmindedly twirling the end of his beard around his long finger.

"What damages, sir? Has anyone been harmed?" There was a moment's pause before either of them spoke again.

"I really can't go into much detail at present, but we will talk later when the timing's right. I'm sending an Order member over to help you pack, and I expect you to be ready to return to Hogwarts in two hours' time when I come to collect you. Do not leave the house, it could endanger us all." And with that, Dumbledore's head receded from the flames. Minutes later, it was replaced by a stout witch that stood on the hearth, brushing soot off of her robes as she rose to her full height.

"Wotcher, Harry."

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"Miss? Excuse me, miss? I'm afraid this is as close as we can take you to Hogwarts at the present time," the Knight Bus attendant informed Hermione, who was still lost in thought and gazing blankly out the window. Broken from her reverie, she turned to face him with a bewildered look in her eyes.

"Where are we?" Hermione questioned him while squinting out the window at the dark street below them. Why am I on the Knight Bus? The last I remember, I was in my room and-

"As I said, this is the nearest location to Hogwarts: we are currently at Hogsmeade Station; this is your stop," he answered her impatiently. Clearly, he was anticipating the end of his shift, at which time he would be replaced by Stan Shunpike, the "official" night attendant. Feeling slightly miffed by his tone, she rose and grabbed the handle of her trunk, preparing to leave. As soon as she descended the last step, the bus had vanished with a resounding crack.

Looking around, she could see the vague silhouette of what was unmistakably the Shrieking Shack to her far left, and the town of Hogsmeade off to her right. Reluctantly ignoring the intoxicating smell of Butterbeer, she turned left and briskly headed toward the dilapidated dwelling that one of her former professors had once called 'home', for at least one night each month in the duration of his stay at Hogwarts.

It was sometime later when she finally reached it, and as she approached she noticed that it had changed from what she remembered of her last visit there. It was no longer as foreboding; it was still eerily quiet, but the windows were no longer boarded up. The absence of the house's usual creaking sounds unnerved her and forced her to reconsider her decision to use the passage that lay beneath it to get to Hogwarts. Well, there's no point in turning back now, when I'm already halfway there, she thought logically to herself. Advancing on the house, she thought back to the first time she entered it. She remembered how worried she had felt about Ron being left alone with that large, black dog, and just how afraid she was that they would all be killed by an escaped convict, or be expelled for attacking Snape. The memories resurrected by revisting the Shack were by no means pleasant, but they were a part of her that could never be altered or erased.

Once she reached the passage she climbed in, dragging her trunk in after her. Aside from the occasional cobweb, nothing blocked the passage, and soon it began to slant upwards toward the Whomping Willow entrance. "Impedimenta!" she cast on the tree limbs to pass safely onto the Grounds. When she had properly distanced herself from the Whomping Willow, she seated herself on her trunk to try to understand why she had been heading to Hogwarts in the first place.

"Think, Hermione," she whispered to herself. "What are the facts, where is the truth here?" she asked aloud. Thinking back, she could recall some events leading up to her current situation; sitting alone on her trunk on the grounds of Hogwarts. Mother and Father started arguing at the dinner table, so I got up to leave; it was an argument I had heard far too many times before since I returned home for summer break. Mother thinks he's been "seeing someone else" during the times he claims he's working late. I can't stand to hear them fight, so I excused myself to my room, Father protested, but I ignored him and continued up the stairs. Locking the door behind me, I turned on my stereo to drown out their raised voices and retrieved a book from my shelf for a bit of reading before bed. Sometime later the voices quieted, and I heard the front door slam shut. About an hour later, Father returned; I heard his drunken footsteps make their way up the staircase, with some difficulty. I had long since lost interest in the book I was reading. It was a Christmas gift from Ginny, a novel, Spare the Wand, Spoil the Witch. I found it interesting, to a point, to see a witch's perspective on romance. It's amazing to think how similar it is to muggle Harlequin romance novels. Anyway, I put the book away and went to the bathroom to get dressed for bed, when I heard the most familiar clicking sound. It sounded as if, somehow, someone had unlocked my door, which was unusual because I'm the only one with a key to it. I left the bathroom to investigate, and-

Hermione was at a loss. She could not recall what had happened next, up to her arrival at Hogsmeade Station about an hour ago. What happened, she thought, why can't I remember anything else? I clearly didn't return to the bathroom, since I still have my day clothes on, so where did I go? I may as well talk to the Headmaster since I'm here; maybe he'll have some solution to this, she thought idly to herself. She hoisted her trunk up again by the handle and headed quickly towards the oak double doors that separated her from her "home away from home", Hogwarts.

As she entered with her trunk in tow, she was once again captivated by her magical surroundings, as she had been every year she returned to the castle for the fall term. Temporarily distracted, she failed to notice that the very man she was looking for had advanced behind her, and was currently watching her observation of Hogwarts with interest.

"Never loses its enchantment, does it?" Dumbledore mused. She started and turned to face him, momentarily forgetting why she needed to see him in the first place.

"There's something very important I need to discuss with you, Professor," she began.

"Please, call me Albus; the term has not begun yet, and therefore, you are not my student. Well, in any case, it's probably best that we take this conversation to my office, so as not to be overheard. Come, follow me." They walked the path to his office in silence, only interrupted once when McGonagall made an appearance, and joined them in their walk.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked as he seated himself behind his desk, gesturing that Hermione should sit in the chair opposite. McGonagall stood near the window, though one would wonder why, since it was too dark to see out of it. The Headmaster eyed Hermione amiably from his seat, obviously waiting for an answer to his question.

"I'm not quite sure myself, actually. I was at home, and the next I remember I was heading to Hogwarts. I was hoping you could help me find out what happened in between, and why I can't remember it," she started, watching the twinkling glow of Dumbledore's eyes begin to fade as he sat, lost in thought. "Is there anything that you can do to help?" she eagerly questioned. The heat of the room from the hearth of the fireplace was beginning to affect Hermione, so she unzipped her jacket slightly, which, unfortunately for her, caused a chain reaction that would spoil her evening.

"Merlin, what happened to you, Miss Granger!" McGonagall exclaimed. It was then when she looked down and saw it: an angry red gash that extended to cover her entire upper torso. It was amazing that she hadn't noticed it before; though it had been healed, she didn't recall what caused it, so it must have been magically sealed up. She stared at it in confusion for a moment before the Headmaster interrupted her.

"We're going to the infirmary; perhaps, after healing this completely, Poppy can help us provide a remedy to your memory lapses," Dumbledore said while rising from his chair. The three left they office, each suffering from a different degree of confusion about that night's events. Dumbledore was less effected, however, considering that he had been forewarned of Hermione's arrival by an old friend earlier that very evening.

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As he led the procession towards the infirmary, Dumbledore reflected back to the unexpected owl he'd received that day.

He had been sitting in his office, sucking on a lemon drop, contemplating what needed to be done to help displaced children and other members of the families attacked that day by the escaped Death Eaters. Then the answer came to him. Or, rather, it pecked on the window and waited politely to be let inside his office. Curious, this, he thought idly as he gave the owl entrance, I wasn't expecting any post. He unfurled the scroll, and read the tidy script.

Headmaster,
I'm accepting your offer; I hope in delaying my response I haven't forced you to choose someone else for the position. I should arrive tomorrow by the Teacher's Express. Perhaps I'll be on time for dinner, so look for me at the main gates.

Also, I'm sending some children your way. Please allow them entrance; they may need healing up a bit before they can rest. Especially the student I've recently spoken to you about, who shall remain nameless in the event that this is intercepted. Please understand that I had my own reasons for what I did, and I don't regret it... Everything in action now is for the greater good.

I expect I'll see you soon,
NT

Looks of confusion and surprise briefly crossed Dumbledore's face, proving that he was not nearly as all-knowing as he was rumored to be.

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