Hannah entered Professor Sprout’s roomy study nervously. Her head of house was a kind, understanding woman, but Hannah did not want to discuss her outbursts with anyone. Various potted plants were growing on the shelves and Hannah recognized a few of them from recent Herbology classes. She avoided a nasty-looking plant with purple leaves and sat down on one of the chairs. Professor Sprout did not have an imposing desk to sit behind, so visiting her always made Hannah feel like she was in someone’s living room rather than a Professor’s study.
The Hufflepuff head of house finished watering some of the herbs near the window and then came to sit on one of the chairs opposite Hannah.
“How are you, Hannah, dear?”
“Good…fine…” Now that she was here Hannah wanted to get this pointless conversation over with. After all, what was there to say?
“Now, I’m sure you know why I’ve asked you here. You also know that we have been trying our best to find a way to help you control your magic, but this is beyond what any of us has ever seen. I am sure that you will figure this out, Hannah, but it will not be easy and you’ll have to do the hard work alone. What I have suggested is that the Professors take it in turns to give you special lessons in some more advanced types of magic: wandless magic, advanced charms and spell-invention, that sort of thing.”
Hannah felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. It was as if Professor Sprout had suddenly moved aside a heavy curtain, revealing the bright rays of the sun. She tried not to let herself believe it, not to let herself be led into hope, but it was impossible. Ernie had been telling her for weeks that she needed to learn more advanced spells if she was going to be able to control her obviously more powerful magic, and now the Professors were going to help her do just that.
“The other professors have agreed,” Professor Sprout said after a long silence. “Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Vector, Sinistra and I have worked out a schedule. We know that you are already working very hard to catch up on what you missed last year, juggling some sixth and some seventh year classes, but we believe that this will, in the long-run, be very beneficial for you.”
Hannah nodded enthusiastically, not daring to interrupt her head of house.
“Under normal circumstances we would try to alleviate some of your other duties, but as you know… Professor Snape and the Carrows don’t know about this, and I would suggest you only tell your closest friends.”
Hannah nodded again, but when Professor Sprout did not continue she decided to speak up.
“Professor, I… at the beginning of the year you said that sometime around the Holidays you would look at my grades and decide if I could move up to the seventh year level in some classes. I’ll study as much as it takes over the holidays to catch up.”
“Hannah, your grades in potions and-”
“I don’t care about potions! I mean… I’m doing well in Herbology, aren’t I?”
For the first time that evening Professor Sprout’s wide smile replaced her serious expression. “Yes, you are. And you can certainly move up to Seventh year Herbology where I believe you will be very comfortable. Professor Flitwick says you may be able to move up in Charms if you study very hard, but that will leave Transfiguration and Potions which you will have to come back for next year before you are ready to take the NEWTS.”
Hannah nodded. “It’s all right,” she said honestly. “I just want to go back to Herbology classes with my friends for the rest of the year.”
“Well, then, that’s settled!” Professor Sprout said, summoning some pieces of parchment and waving her wand over one of them. “I’m making some final adjustments to your class schedule for next term – No, I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay in the Sixth year classes for the next few weeks. Professor Flitwick would like you to sit an exam before moving up to the seventh year classes. Your extra lessons will take place on Thursday and Saturday evenings here in my office.”
So Hannah began the most rigorous magical training she had ever experienced in her life, including the OWLs that had caused her to have a nervous breakdown in her fifth year. Professor Flitwitck gave her a very long list of Charms to study for the exam and a couple of books of Charms theory to finish reading before the Holidays. The extra sessions, although they were mostly theoretical at first, still left her very tired and drained. And this was all besides the rounds and map-making that she did for the DA in the evenings.
It was the best Hannah had felt in ages. She was learning difficult, advanced magic, and she was not sure if it would help her control her outbursts, but that soon became only part of the goal. The things she was learning were helping her with the healing spells she needed to help students that the DA rescued from the Carrows. Whereas before she could perform impressive magic that would drain her of her energy and leave her prone to being captured by the Carrows of Filch, now she could channel her power into more advanced spells that did not take up as much of her energy.
For the first time in years, possibly in her entire life, Hannah felt as if she was really making a difference at Hogwarts. She was tired and sleepy most of the time, her head swimming with theories about spell modification and wandless magic techniques, but she would not trade it for the world.
Everyone was allowed into Hogsmeade just before the Holidays to buy their presents, but Hannah elected to stay back at Hogwarts and owl-order the few presents for her friends. She waited until everyone had left and then walked up to the Astronomy Tower with an extra warm cloak and the book she was reading for her upcoming extra lesson with Professor Vector. If she finished the last three chapters she would go for a broom ride in the grounds.
She was stuck on an incomprehensible passage in the second to last chapter when Zabini’s voice cut through the calm stillness of her refuge. “They’re teaching you spell invention?”
He knelt beside her and took off his gloves, reaching a hand out for her book. Hannah sighed and passed it on. Zabini had been making it a point to talk to her more and more often in the past few weeks and she had no doubts about why he was doing this – or who he was doing it for. He had told her himself that many people would be interested in her now because of her power, and that she must be careful.
He examined the book closely, looking in the table of contents and looking up a chapter that interested him before turning back to the page that Hannah had marked and looking back up at her. “This is…”
“Starting to feel pointless,” she said. “I’m just not understanding that last paragraph and the whole idea of me doing spell-invention is ridic-”
“But don’t you see; you’re the perfect person to invent spells. We don’t really need spells to do the magic… children use their power without even knowing they’re doing it, but a spell-inventor takes that spontaneous, almost intuitive magic and gives it order, perfects the method to help others focus their magic and get better results. And with spells and incantations we can teach each other how to use their powers more effectively. Who better to give us new spells than the girl who still has that intuitive connection to her power?”
Hannah ducked her head shyly, but Zabini nudged her chin up with his forefinger and smiled. “I can help you with the paragraph if you promise to race me later,” he indicated his own waiting broom with a tilt of his head.
“Mine’s not very fast,” Hannah protested.
“I’ll borrow one for you. Now, let’s see.”
…
Ginny jumped back quickly and hid behind the doorway. They were still talking normally, so they probably hadn’t noticed her. She leaned her head back against the wooden door. Every particle of her being screamed for her to go out there and yell at Zabini or reason with Hannah, but her feet wouldn’t move.
Hannah laughed. It sounded so strange to her ears. Ginny could not remember hearing the Hufflepuff girl laugh before. Usually, she was so miserable, so afraid and frightening at the same time; distant and alone. Even with the other Hufflepuffs, her best friends, she always looked sad and spoke little. Now…
Ginny shook her head. Zabini was obviously trying to take advantage of Hannah’s power, but how could Hannah be stupid enough not to suspect him? How could she be so happy in his company?
Ginny suppressed a shudder and turned away. Hannah didn’t need protecting; she could take care of herself. It wasn’t Ginny’s place to tell her who to hang around with – they barely knew each and rarely saw or spoke to one another outside the DA.
Ginny pulled her hand out of her pocket to steady herself as she climbed back into the Gryffindor Common Room. She paused midway through the portrait hole and looked down at her open palm. Lying inside it was a small, torn piece of cloth with “T.N.” embroidered onto it. She was the last person to be worrying about Hannah’s safety or giving her advice. In the summer after her first year Ginny had been almost as alone and depressed as Hannah – she had felt guilty and dirty and angry with herself and afraid. No amount of hugs or babying from Mum, no amount of kind words and special treatment from Dad or Bill or Charlie could get through to Ginny that summer. She had been saved from her own thoughts and insecurities by a tall, stranger with a distinctive, comfortable smell and an ugly Dark Mark on his forearm.
She traced the letters and then shook her head and tucked the small scrap – and the memory – away.
…
If Hannah had an intuitive grasp over her magic then Blaise Zabini seemed to have a passionate thirst for spell-invention. He offered to help her more with her spell-invention work and she agreed, allowing herself to grow more and more comfortable in his presence. She knew he was doing this for the Dark Lord, the message that the Death Eaters had delivered to her along with the death of her father would haunt her forever, but Hannah also knew that he could not hurt her. The person she was most afraid of in the world was herself, the angry, bitter uncontrolled part of herself that preformed frightening magic, so there was no use rejecting the help of someone who made her feel comfortable. He did not ask her any personal questions or push her when she felt afraid, and Hannah, in turn, did not mention her suspicion that he was a Death Eater.
They ran into each other by chance – although she was sure it was more than chance on Zabini’s part – and then by the end of a week they began meeting in secret. Zabini helped her with the spell invention and gave her useful suggestions for understanding and controlling her magic more and she helped him by teaching him new spells that she learned or helping him with spells he had trouble with. By the second week they began to meet in the library and on the grounds and she waited for the unavoidable explosion that would take place.
She did not expect it to come from Ernie.
She was coming in from the grounds, her nose still stinging with cold, when she realized that the Common Room was deathly quiet. Susan tried to smile at her, and Zach, as always, stood alone at a distance, looking on apprehensively.
“Good of you to drop in,” Ernie said in an angry voice, unlike himself. “Have you been off snogging Zabini, then, while we’ve been here worrying about the DA by ourselves?”
“I’ve never missed my rounds for the DA, Ernie, and I always do as much as I can, you know that!” Hannah said evenly.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Ernie said in that same unfamiliar tone. “You’ve been doing your duty for the DA, but what about us, Hannah? We’re your friends!”
Hannah did not know what to say. A very heavy lump was growing in her throat.
“It’s fine that you don’t spend time with us like you used to. I know you’re doing a lot of extra studying now. But, Hannah, we’ve been worried sick about you and I won’t put up with it anymore. Zabini’s a Death Eater - don’t even try to deny it. He can pretend to be all helpful now, but where was he this summer when your father was murdered, or last year when-”
“Ernie, that’s enough!” Susan cut in. He stopped, but Hannah was barely aware of this, the pain and reproach in his eyes speaking to her louder than any of his hurtful words.
She took deep calming breaths and clenched her fists against the rising, angry tide of power that was threatening to escape. She would not lose control now. Not Ernie. She could not hurt Ernie. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the largest armchair, directing the rising power within her towards it in a series of complicated transfigurations. An otter, a goat, and three different coffee tables later the armchair returned to its original shape and Hannah felt much more in control of her feelings and her magic. Ernie was red-faced, his rage still boiling beneath the surface.
“That was Zabini’s idea,” she whispered to the still silent room. “Ever since he started helping me I’ve felt that I can actually control my magic and stop myself from hurting people that I don’t want to hurt. He can be a bloody vampire for all I care…”
She would never forget that Ernie tried to understand her. She would never forget that he put aside his fear and anger and tried to accept this.
“Fine,” he said. “Fine, let Zabini help you. You can crush the bloody git into a pulp if he tries to hurt you, anyway. But Hannah, we need you. We need your magic, especially now that you can control it. Ginny Weasley got herself tortured to unconsciousness yesterday and Susan got caught in the hallways after dark.”
Hannah vaguely registered that he had lowered his tone, that there were too many people in the common room who were not members of the DA. “We need you, Hannah, we need to stop the Carrows and you could do it. You have strength that no student or teacher has ever dreamed of and Hogwarts needs it. We’re running out of options, here.”
He stopped there, but Hannah knew the rest. She could bring them glory. For the first time since Cedric Diggory was made Hogwarts Champion at the Triwizard Tournament the Hufflepuffs felt that they had someone to rally around, someone to show the world what Hufflepuffs could do. He wanted to do what Hannah herself dreamed of achieving: he wanted to rid Hogwarts of the Carrows’ suffocating hold before it was too late. But he was asking her to unleash her new power on the Carrows, and he really did not understand the magnitude of such an action. He didn’t understand how horribly destructive it could be, how frightening it was for her to watch things happen without being able to stop them. Her father’s dead body swam before her eyes, burning in the flames that she had created and taking away the last remains of her loving family so that she had nothing left to even cry over. She had not been able to stop it. She would not have been able to stop it even if he had still been alive.
Hannah shook her head desperately, breaking eye contact with Ernie. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
“I’m only asking you to try!” it was angry and reproachful and desperate all at the same time. Hannah did not want to look up and see his eyes again. Ever. She did not want to see the same hungry longing that had been in Salazar Slytherin’s eyes. The head of Slytherin’s words echoed across the centuries:
You know that as long as you are in the Wizarding World, you will see the longing in men’s eyes to have your power on their side – to have it for themselves. So one day, not soon, because you must recover now and come to terms with it, but one day you will have to make your own decision about your power.
She pushed Susan’s gentle hand off her shoulder and walked half-blind, back out of the Common Room. Tears fell freely now as her footsteps echoed through the halls.
… as long as you are in the Wizarding World.
