Nearly two hundred students glared at Hermione. Today was the opening Quidditch match against Gryffindor, and the Slytherin team captain was to serve detention in the Greenhouse. Shoveling mulch, getting briars stuck in her clothes, and staying as far away from the pitch as possible while still remaining on the castle grounds.
Hermione ate pancakes.
Pancakes with blueberries and pecans and powdered sugar. And a side of spinach. She did have some self-discipline occasionally.
Thank Merlin they had them two days in a row, else Greengrass's hair would start falling out. They were, indeed, delicious. Hornette was rather more trustworthy than Adelaide Flint led on. At least, about important things like food.
The owls flapped in, dropping papers and letters, and Balderdash landed at the table, scattering other people's food, and earning even more scowls. Hermione frowned; he had avoided her food but it wasn't good to be wasteful. He stretched his wings to proudly show off his lack of youthful down feathers. He must have spent all day preening. Hermione sniffed. They grow up so fast. She scritched under his chin, fed him some sausage, and paid for the next week of papers. He left with a chirp. Good boy.
Rising Star in the Ministry! A Once-in-a-Lifetime Profile of The DMLE's newest Bachelor!!
Hrm.
Okay.
Well, the Prophet was always a rag, and the paper definitely didn't have anything to say about the raid on Grindelwald's safehouse. Or maybe, the raid itself hadn't been noticeable enough to make the papers. Aberforth liked to keep things close to the chest.
A raven flew into the hall and cackled wildly.
Hermione contemplated throwing a cage at it right then and there. Have it plummet dozens of feet and crash helplessly to the ground. Its hollow bones shattering and leaving the dreadful bird helpless. She shoved pancake into her mouth; the violence passed.
It careened toward Hermione, and she shielded her food. But it didn't land on the table. It flapped once, slowed, and plopped on her shoulder. Steadying itself with claws, not talons. One eye blinked alabaster white, and it batted her in the head with a wing. A single white feather—No, A piece of paper had been preened into its feathers and—
It pecked her head. Like the absolute asshole it was.
She did not give it sausage.
Hermione plucked the scrap of paper and stunned it—
The red spark bounced off its chest and the menace flapped away with a hysterical cackle. Into the air and out the high windows in seconds.
What the fuck?
"Can't even stun a bird, mudblood? How pathetic," Ephraim Avery jeered at her down the table. He was pretty and pale with rich gold hair and wicked green eyes. Malfoy laughed next to him, hair braided tightly for the game.
"You're ignoring me," she reminded him idly and read the scrap of paper. It was a clipping from the Prophet. Something from page seventy-two. The edges were rough, not cut like someone delivering a message, but like the bird had stripped it out of a paper with its beak. "Don't change tactics mid-operation else both will become less effective."
Disorder at the Docks Delays a Dozen Deliveries
It was an article about a wharf in Picardy finding a lucky crate of dragon heartstrings before the tide had washed it away.
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Jörmungandr
FanfictionAfter destroying the Hallows proves to actually be a bad idea, Hermione travels to a time where they were most conveniently stealable. There are a couple dark lords and a cellar door in her way, but she is determined to outsmart them all. Well, at l...
