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The Dragon Chronicles	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
I apologise for the delay in posting this chapter. I have been in the hospital again, Monday to Sunday, so I just came home yesterday.
Many thanks to Randombitsofstars for betaing this chapter!
Review replies can be found on my tumblr page: theladymiya. tumblr.com
Enjoy!
Chapter 11
Hermione was very flustered when she reached her office. It felt as if someone had put tight, heavy shackles around her arms and her breath came in short puffs. She tried to force her body to relax by shaking her arms and hands as she walked, but it only reminded her of what had just happened.
The pain in her shoulder had mostly subsided, but she could still feel the tingling of his hand upon her. That tingling was spreading all over her upper body, constricting her chest. What was Voldemort playing at?
That was probably it. He was playing with her. Just wanting her to remember what they had done and activate that lingering feeling from their wedding night. As if she could forget!
Thankfully, she didn't have time to think about her evil husband. McGonagall was waiting on her in the office. When Hermione walked in, the professor looked the opposite of happy.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked, straightening her robe as discretely as possible.
"The school board is here and they demand to speak with you," McGonagall said, her tone indicating that she wasn't impressed by the school board.
"Oh," Hermione frowned. "What do they want to talk about?"
"I assume they wish to voice their concerns about someone being appointed Headmistress without their approval or consultation."
Hermione snorted in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Who is on this board?"
McGonagall named several people that Hermione recognised as Death Eaters. Well, if they wanted to complain, she would happily direct them to the person who appointed her Headmistress.
Their boss. Hermione smirked.
She followed McGonagall’s sweeping stride down to the teacher's lounge, where ten wizards and witches were waiting impatiently. Hermione noted they were all at least thrice Hermione's age. If it weren't for the war raging, Hermione would have understood their concerns about her ability to run the school.
However, they seemed to have more against her than mere lack of experience.
"This must be an inappropriate jest," an elderly lady in deep purple robe exclaimed. Her equally purple hat wiggled as she spoke. "A Mudblood as Headmistress of this noble institution! Whatever happened to Severus?!"
"Yes, I was assured by Professor Snape that Hogwarts would finally be a school worthy of its name! A place where all magic was taught, without superstition," scoffed an ancient wizard. His white, thin hair combed over the bald spot on his head jiggled irritatedly as he made his pronouncement.
"Have you even graduated yourself, girl?" A middle-aged wizard with a wheezing voice snapped.
Before Hermione even got a chance to open her mouth, another witch chimed in.
"Of course she hasn't. She is one of those friends of that criminal Potter. How can we let her be in charge of a classroom, much less all of our children's security?"
Having heard enough, Hermione drew her wand out of her robes and slashed her wand in a silencing spell over the lot of them.
"I don't know what you hope to accomplish here," she said slowly, her voice hard. She had suffered enough of whinging to last her a lifetime. "You can't possibly be so stupid as to think that I just waltzed in here and demanded to be made Headmistress.” Hermione scoffed. “The Dark Lord, my husband, appointed me as this position. If you have any complaints, I would gladly summon him. He does so love to hear people question his decisions."
Several people had grown quite pale at the mention of Voldemort, and a couple had even taken a few step back skittishly. The purple hat of the elderly lady was completely still now, as was the hair of the thin-haired wizard. No one would meet her eyes, everyone looking at each other, as if wishing someone would continue to speak up. No one had the courage to do so, however.
"As for the safety of your children, I'd actually assert they are safer now than they were before; I have removed corporal punishment and forbidden students to cast curses upon each other in class. And before you consider taking your children home as a protest, I want to remind you that it’s against the law to home-school children. If you have any complaints about any of this, I once again have to direct you to my husband. Does anyone wish me to send for him?"
She lifted the silencing spell and looked from one wizard to the other. Where there had been anger and self-righteousness, there was now only paleness and silence. No one would even meet her eyes.
"I thought so. Now, if that was all, I will take care of something that actually matters." Shaking her head in annoyance, Hermione nodded at McGonagall, who had trouble concealing her glee, before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.
Once outside, Hermione sighed, massaging her temples. Really, what were they thinking? That she would just let them bully her into doing whatever they wanted?
Privileged pureblood pricks.
Walking aimlessly (she didn’t want to go back to her office and risk seeing Voldemort just yet), Hermione tried to make up a mental list of everything she needed to do. There were a million things that she still needed to learn about running the school, while still running the school! And then there was the small matter of making sure Harry and Ron didn’t come rushing in to save her. It was a good sign that they weren’t here already, but then, without Kara, they had lost their means of transportation. Harry could make his way around the Muggle world, though, but if they thought Voldemort had killed her, they would panic. How on earth could she contact them again?
Hermione was suddenly startled out of her brooding by the sound of sobbing.
Coming around the corner, she saw a young girl – probably a first year – curled up in an opening in the wall, crying into her black cotton robe.
As Prefect, Hermione had often comforted younger students, especially at the start of the term. There were many students that were homesick or worried about classes, or sad because they didn’t have any friends and Hermione had become pretty good to comfort them over the years.
"Hello," she said in a soft voice and gently leant against the wall next to the student.
The young girl peeked up at her through her dark fringe. Her blue eyes were slightly red and puffy from crying.
"Hello," the girl said, glancing around nervously. Was she scared of Hermione?
That had never happened before. Students had been annoyed at her for nagging at them, or angry at her for deducting points, but never scared.
Wanting the student to feel at ease, Hermione smiled at her. "Why don't you and I go down to the kitchen and see if the house-elves has some hot chocolate to share with us?"
The girl’s eyes widened in surprise and she glanced around, probably being a little bit suspicious. After not finding anything amiss, she exhaled and nodded slowly before rising from the notch.
"What's your name?" Hermione asked as they walked down the corridor to the entrance of the kitchen.
As soon as she asked the question, she wondered if that was something she should have known from the start. All her teachers had seemed to know her name from the beginning. Well, with the exception of Professor Binns, the ghost, but then, he didn't seem to remember much of anything.
She would have to ask the portraits how they had done. She realised it was possible that Dumbledore had only known her name because she was friends with Harry. Nevertheless, she suspected that she would have to study the names and family associations of all her students. It would help her in situations such as this. She had always managed to keep track of the students in Gryffindor, how hard could three more houses be?
"Julia Baggott, professor," the girl answered in a small voice.
"And you are a first year in Ravenclaw?" Hermione said, noting the blue and bronze mark on her school robe.
Julia nodded. She was holding the hem of her sleeves between her fingers, pulling on a loose thread. Hermione really hoped the elves and the chocolate would put the girls at ease so Hermione could help her. It never worked when someone was scared.
When they reached the portrait with the bowl of fruit and Hermione tickled the pear, she could see Julia’s interest peak. When the elves came and began swarming them, Julia even smiled.
Relieved that the girl was relaxing, Hermione ordered them both some chocolate, with extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top. Julia’s eyes shone with happiness as she stared down at the cup as Hermione led her to the closest table. It was the kitchen’s version of the Slytherin table, which was empty this time of the day.
"Do you want to tell me what is bothering you?" Hermione asked after taking a few sips of the hot beverage.
Julia stared down into her cup for several seconds before she whispered: "My dad has been taken to Azkaban as a blood traitor."
A chill went down her spine. This was hardly an issue the children had when she had been a Prefect.
"Is your mum still home?" Hermione asked.
Julia nodded. She wouldn't meet her eyes, and both her hands were holding a tight grip around the cup. Julia's knuckles where white by the tension.
"Has she written to you?" Hermione asked carefully.
“She said that I shouldn’t talk to anyone about him,” Julia whispered, and suddenly looked very embarrassed, as if she had just realised that this very conversation went against her mother’s wishes.
Hermione put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your mother is just trying to protect you. There is a war going on.”
Julia’s eyes started to fill up by tears again, but she swallowed them down. “I just want to go home to my mum.”
Hermione sighed, contemplating her options. She doubted very much that she could ask Voldemort to release prisoners from Azkaban.
Well, she could, but he would no doubt just laugh in response.
“What does your mum do for a living?” she asked instead.
“She works as a Healer at St. Mungo's,” Julia mumbled. “She is really good.”
“How about I ask your mum to come here over the weekend? Then you and she can talk about it and maybe she can tell you some more about your father. There are some things that are dangerous to write about.”
“I thought parents weren’t supposed to come to Hogwarts,” Julia said, clearly not daring to hope for such a treat.
Hermione shrugged. “I’m Headmistress now, I think I can decide who can come to my school and not.”
For the first time, Julia smiled back at her. It made Hermione’s heart tightened. She hated this war. It was always the innocents who suffered the most. Why couldn’t Voldemort just challenge the people he disagreed with in a duel and be done with it?
Well, that was hardly an effective way of gaining power, she realised. Voldemort didn’t care about who he hurt, that’s why he was the evil one. He probably didn’t even know who Julia or her father was. Her father was just another person who had said the wrong thing at the wrong time, to the wrong people and had been sent to Azkaban as an example.
But then, that was why she had come. She would soften the blow to the children as much as she could. Julia would benefit greatly from seeing her mother. Perhaps Hermione should start having parent-days where students could meet with their parents or relatives if they felt the need? Or maybe just let it be known that she would take requests from students and organise meeting for them in private?
It would be a security risk to have the parents come into Hogwarts, of course, but maybe she could come to an arrangement with some establishment in Hogsmeade?
After all, there was nothing saying that parents couldn’t come to Hogsmeade the same days their children had scheduled Hogsmeade-visits.
Excited by her idea, Hermione almost missed that Julia had started to speak again.
“I’m glad it’s you now.”
Hermione had to think a second, before remembering that they had talked about her being Headmistress.
“Thank you, Julia,” she said with a smile. “I only hope I can do all the things I want to.”
Finishing their chocolate, Hermione wished Julia a pleasant day before they parted ways outside of the kitchen. However, just as she was to start the return back to her office, she remembered something and doubled back into the kitchen.
How could she have forgotten? The house-elves were constantly overlooked by wizards and now she had almost overlooked them herself! Had she really become so proud that she didn’t even notice who brought her food?
“Can I have your attention?” she asked the house-elves.
The clatter of food preparations quieted down as the elves all gathered around her. Many were eyeing her with distrust. It seemed they still hadn’t forgiven her for wanting to free her. Lucky for them, she now knew that they would be safer working for her than out in the world to fend for themselves.
“As you probably have heard, I’m the new Headmistress. As long as you work for me, I want you to be safe. If some other wizards try to make you do things that you don’t want to do, or tries to hurt you or any of the students in this school, I want you to come and find me or Professor McGonagall at once.”
They all looked rather relieved by her speech. They had probably feared that she would force them to wear clothes or something. Well, not today.
Looking around the gathered elves, she finally spotted the one she was looking for. She didn’t have to look far. There was only one elf that would dress in green trousers, a purple shirt and mixed-matched socks.
“Dobby, could I have a word in private?” she asked.
The little elf beamed with pride and rushed over to her at once. The other elves went back to their business.
“What can Dobby do for the Headmistress?” the small elf squeaked.
Hermione hesitated. If Voldemort ever found out, he would kill Dobby. Could she really send the elf out on a dangerous mission like this? Because she knew the elf would agree. The moment he heard Harry’s name, he would jump at the chance to help.
But then, this was war. If someone had asked her to help, she would have done it too, despite the risks.
“I have a mission for you, if you want to. But this is not an order or anything, if you don’t want to do it, I will not be angry. The mission is very dangerous.”
Dobby’s eyes were wide, but not scared. “The Headmistress trusts Dobby with dangerous mission?”
Hermione nodded solemnly. The elf’s loyalty was greater than that of any human. After Kara, Hermione couldn’t think of anyone she’d trust more with this.
“As you know, Harry is on the run, trying to win the war,” she continued in a very low voice so that none of the other elves would hear. “If you want to – and only if you want to – you could go to help him.”
Dobby squealed in excitement, and Hermione had to hush him so he wouldn’t be overheard.
“Dobby will do anything!” Dobby said in a high whisper.
Hermione smiled at him, but then looked up and down the elf again. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Dobby, but would you consider wearing a towel again? If anyone sees you, they can’t know who you really are, and there are very few elves who wear clothes.”
For the first time, Dobby hesitated. Hermione understood, it had been a huge step for him to start wearing clothes. She was so proud of him to display his freedom so openly. Alas, this was war.
“Dobby will do this, Headmistress,” Dobby said in a serious tone of voice. “Dobby will wear towel again because Dobby knows Headmistress trusts him.”
“I really do, Dobby, thank you,” Hermione said and patted the elf on his shoulder. “Will you be able to find Harry? I know where he was yesterday and I know of two places where he could be going, but they are probably on the move now.”
“Dobby will find Harry Potter! Dobby won’t rest until he is with Harry Potter again!”
“You have to rest if you get tired, Dobby,” Hermione quickly ordered. “And eat. It would be awful if you came to Harry and was so tired you fell unconscious. Then you wouldn’t be able to help him.”
The elf’s eyes widened. Clearly, he hadn’t thought of that. “Dobby will rest if he gets tired and eats if he is hungry.”
“Good. Now, when you find Harry, you’ll tell him I’m alright and that I’m keeping Hogwarts safe. But he can’t use you to send messages to me, unless he is in serious trouble.”
She couldn’t risk Voldemort spotting Dobby. He would no doubt kill the elf.
“And even if he is in trouble, you can’t tell me unless I’m alone. If someone is with me, I won’t be able to do anything,” Hermione continued. “Do you understand?”
“Dobby will only go to Headmistress if she’s alone,” Dobby repeated, nodding.
“Good. And thank you, Dobby,” Hermione said, and on impulse, she kneeled and hugged the elf. “You are a great friend.”
“Dobby is proud that the Headmistress think of Dobby as a friend,” Dobby squealed and tears were starting to form in his eyes.
She released the elf and smiled, her heart tight. Why couldn’t wizards understand how precious elves were? Why did they only see these intelligent and loyal creatures as slaves?
“Now, go and get dressed and remember to pack some food for yourself. Give Harry and Ron my love when you find them,” Hermione said softly.
Dobby actually saluted her before he hurried away to do as he was told.
Hermione beamed. At least there was one good thing with wizards constantly overlooking house-elves. Voldemort would never even consider that she would use one to send messages to Harry.
His arrogance would be his downfall. This was only just the beginning.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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The Dragon Chronicles