The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter XXXIX

CHAPTER XXXIX:

Hermione's POV:

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as she and Harry sat at the breakfast table, her with a book while Harry had bundled his cloak on the table to use it as a pillow and was snoring softly into it as the two of them waited for Hedwig to return with a reply.

Hermione had been awake since before five, and had been unable to return to sleep so instead she'd used her time to ink out an explanation of Dumbledore's machinations the previous day to the Dark Lord, and what she had then told Fudge, before sneaking out to the owlery to send it off with Hedwig.

It had been earlier on in the summer holidays, around a week after she and Harry first arrived at Riddle Manor, that Voldemort had summoned her to talk and had brought up her orphaned status, voicing concerns of how it could be used against her– well, to be more precise, he had concerns of how it been used against her could have an impact him.

It had never actually occurred to her before that, that her lack of parents could be used to gain authority over her– a rather egregious oversight upon reflection. Of course, she had known that Dumbledore was ruthless and had very few limits when it came to getting what he wanted, not that the sheeple of the Wizarding world realized this, but she'd never considered that the pureblood wizard would know enough about the muggle child welfare system to actually have the capability to use it against her. She'd never thought to investigate how it worked in the Wizarding world. If she had, she'd have learned that as soon as she was accepted into Hogwarts she fell under the jurisdiction of the British Ministry– muggle laws no longer mattered.

"Miss Granger," a familiar voice greeted her, and she looked up from 'Rutger: Dark Lord or Revolutionary?' to her Head of House. Snape looked like he hadn't slept well, and he was squinting slightly as if he had a headache.

"Interesting choice of reading materials," he noted, nodding down at the biography. Hermione looked down and shrugged. Dark Lord Rutger had hailed from the Netherlands, in the early eighteenth century. He'd overthrown the government through brute force and ruled the Netherlands for nearly a decade, before his decision to try extending his power had resulted in his death at the hands of the French Ministry of Magic. His rule was considered a controversial one, as his ideas were progressive and radical. He'd been labeled as a Dark Lord, and his government had been entirely dismantled, after his death, but the winners wrote the history books, and some of his ideas contained merit, in her opinion. She wasn't the only one to think so, either, but Rutger's use of Dark magic had him labeled a villain.

"An interesting man." She replied to Snape, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Indeed."

Harry, stirred by the sound of their talking, sat up yawning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Comfortable, Mister Potter?" Drawled Snape and Harry, the clasp of his cloak having left a red mark on his cheek, squinted blearily at him.

"Not really, sir." Snape looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he nodded at the floating pile of schedules.

"Potter, Granger," he said, and two of the schedules detached themselves from the pile, flying over. Hermione plucked hers from the air and examined it.

"Wonderful," she muttered, pulling a face. "We're outside all morning. Herbology with the 'Puffs, and Care of Magical Creatures with– goddamnit, we're still with the bloody Gryffindors."