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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author’s note: I’d like to thank everyone who read, rated and reviewed.

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The Apprentice

Chapter Seven

Sweet Salazar, someone save him from the utter boredom of having to listen to this pompous moron much longer.

Deacon Dorotheos Eugene Windshire was only an assistant of an assistant of an assistant to Amilia Bones’s Head of Security; but from the way he spoke, you’d think he was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement instead of the blasted woman.

‘And then I reprimanded him for not thoroughly checking her exit and entry,’ said Dorotheos proudly. ‘We wouldn’t want You-Know-Who’s followers to enter the Auror Office after all.’

‘No, that would be a shame,’ Lord Voldemort replied, smiling over the irony of the situation.

Dorotheos took the smile for an encouragement and continued babbling to the pretty woman at the other side of the table about the very importance of his tasks at work. He couldn’t believe his luck when he had spotted her, sitting at his usual table in Fortescue’s ice cream parlour, ordering a Dame Blanche – his favourite too. It had given him a wonderful opening to start a conversation with Nathalia. He had practically swooned over the husky voice that spoke the name. She was precisely his type, a blue-eyed blonde with a gorgeous body in a sexy red dress. He hoped that if he could impress her, he was going to get lucky tonight. He hadn’t got laid in ages.

Nathalia, formerly known as Lord Voldemort, leaned forward, showing a considerable amount of cleavage, while she scooped her ice-cream in a languid, seductive manner.

The things you do for power.

The Dark Lord had gone through quite a couple of extensive transformations, including a thorough sex change, in order to establish contact with this particular public servant. Yaxley had informed him the man had properly witnessed every aspect of the defences surrounding Amelia Bones’s house, but he could not get him to talk about the details without arousing suspicion to his credentials. Yaxley had also told him that Dorotheos was a flirt and an annoying chatterbox around women. His Death Eater hadn’t been exaggerating, unfortunately. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and wondered how the hell women dealt with this nonsense. He was going to do a huge service to every female alive if – no – when he killed the babbling fool.

However, first things first, he had to get the information he desperately needed. Bones was becoming too much of a threat and had her office too good under control to leave her alive. Time for action. From the drooling looks the idiot was giving him, it was crystal-clear he was going to fall right into his trap.

Nathalia placed her spoon in her now empty bowl and picked up her bag from the ground to get her purse out.

‘Oh no, allow me,’ said Dorotheos, hastily pulling out his own wallet. ‘A lady should never have to pay in the company of men.’

Merlin, in what century did this imbecile live?

‘Why thank you, you’re a true gentleman,’ said Nathalia, smiling.

She put her purse back, while Dorotheos quickly put the right amount plus tip down on the table for Florean. They got up simultaneously. Nathalia tilted her head, questioningly.

‘I wouldn’t be a true gentleman if I let a pretty lady walk to her house alone in these dangerous times, would I?’ Dorotheos said, trying to be smooth and failing miserably.

‘You’re concern is touching.’ And completely unnecessary, unless it is for your own pitiful life.

Gently, she laid her hand on Dorotheos’s upper arm. ‘But my house is abroad and hotel rooms are so impersonal, don’t you think?’ Nathalia asked, implying to unspoken deeds.

The man practically seemed to explode with excitement. ‘Oh-I-yes-yes, you’re quite right. I – er – my house is j-just around the corner,’ Dorotheos stuttered, turning red.

Pathetic.

‘If you want, I can get you – erm – some coffee?’ Dorotheos added unsurely.

‘I’d love some … coffee,’ Nathalia replied suggestively. She turned around and picked up her coat from the back of the chair. ‘Why don’t you escort me to your place then?’

‘I’d be delighted,’ replied Dorotheos. ‘Oh, allow me.’

For a second, there was almost a struggle over Nathalia’s coat, but then Voldemort controlled his temper, remembering the goal he had set out before. ‘Thank you again,’ said Nathalia through gritted teeth.

‘You’re welcome,’ Dorotheos replied gullibly.

As Dorotheos held the door for her, Nathalia noticed Florean Fortescue watching them – a bit too long to her taste. She hooked her arm in Dorotheos’s and leaned against him flirtingly. They walked out, giggling and touching. Hopefully, Fortescue would think something less charitable of Nathalia. If not, there were always other measures to take.

Outside it was unbelievably quiet. Nobody saw them walking together. Soon, they arrived at Dorotheos’s flat. His wand came out and he began lowering his wards in haste. ‘This takes a while,’ he explained, glancing over his shoulder. ‘I have installed some of our Unspeakables’ latest inventions on my own flat too. It’s not exactly allowed, but you understand … with everything that is going on these days...’

Nathalia a.k.a. Lord Voldemort understood perfectly.

Finally, the door opened, and with an overly exaggerated flourish, Dorotheos bit her to enter. Nathalia walked in, her eyes taking in the environment quickly. The door closed and the wards kicked back in place automatically. Nathalia turned and raised her eyebrows at him.

‘Nice, don’t you think?’ Dorotheos said proudly, as if he had created it himself. ‘It saves so much time not having to redo them yourself upon entering.’

‘I can imagine,’ Nathalia replied happily. Very convenient, now he wouldn’t have to silence the area himself.

‘Well, obviously this is my hallway; huge don’t you think?’ Dorotheos walked ahead, his arms gesturing around to show off his belongings, not noticing Nathalia was pulling out her wand. ‘The bathroom is on your left and you can put your coat here, in my hall closet,’ Dorotheos babbled, turning around with the door in hand. His eyes widened when he saw the wand pointed right at him. ‘W-what?’

‘Why don’t you tell me all about the security measures around Amelia Bones’s house?’ Nathalia said coldly, disarming him with a flick of her wrist.

‘But-but I thought you…,’ Dorotheos trailed off, looking stunned.

‘Please,’ Nathalia sneered. ‘Don’t tell me you ever got a real woman to go home with you after she had to listen to that incessant chatter of yours?’

Dorotheos turned bright red.

Nathalia snorted. ‘As I expected.’

Anger made it to Dorotheos’s face and with it came an attempt at bravery. ‘I don’t know who you think you are; but if you think I am going to tell you anything, you are quite mistaken. I am a well-trained professional. You’ll get nothing from me.’

‘Is that so?’ Nathalia mocked. ‘Well, then perhaps you ought to know who you’re talking to?’

Her wand whipped through the air. A flash; smoke twirled around Nathalia’s body, obscuring her from sight for a second. A loud bang followed; Dorotheos ducked, wrapping his arms over his head to take cover from the flying debris. As the smoke cleared, and it seemed safe again, he lowered his arms to see. Immediately he wished he hadn’t, because before him stood a tall figure in dark robes with very pronounced features, Lord Voldemort. Shaking with fear, Dorotheos dropped to his knees. ‘P-p-please.’

‘Now, Mr Professional,’ Voldemort sneered. ‘Mrs Bones’s security plans and fast, I don’t have all night.’

It didn’t take all night. In fact it took less than a couple of seconds, after which Dorotheos Windshire would have given up his own mother to make it stop. The man was a first class wimp. But he had what he needed now; he just had to wait till Amelia Bones was back in the country from her trip oversees. He used the Imperius curse on Windshire to not arouse suspicion at his place of work, and left – Apparating straight through the wards. He would have his Death Eaters deal with the man, once he had finished off the real target. With a crack, he arrived back at the Malfoy residence.

Narcissa Malfoy hurried towards him. She dropped to one knee. ‘My Lord, Severus Snape is in the lounge, awaiting your arrival, and.’

The rest of the woman’s words were a blur to him. Severus? Uhmm… He had told Snape to notify him when Granger reached consciousness again, after hearing how badly she had got hurt, which in itself was most unexpected. He hadn’t meant for Severus to come in person though. He thought an owl would suffice.

Still, if Severus was here now, then it had taken quite awhile for her to wake – again much longer than expected. He had to admit, it peeked his curiosity. The best method of healing completely after wakening from a Nightmare Curse was sleep. It was one of the reasons the curse in question was often so lethal. Its victims didn’t want to dream again and did everything to avoid the one thing their magical powers needed for restoration; sleep. The more there was to restore, the longer it took for the person to wake. It was strange. He remembered the girl’s pathetic hexes, jinxes and curses she had thrown his way. There had been no indication whatsoever she should need this long to restore her magic. There had been no considerable force behind her spells at all.

Absentmindedly, he tapped with his wand on his hand. It was when he realised Narcissa was still here. He looked down. The woman was no longer talking; instead she was eyeing his wand nervously. Good, very good.

‘Severus Snape can await my arrival a bit longer. I have to get the stench of that ministerial coward of me.’ Lord Voldemort moved past her.

‘And what should I tell Bella?’ asked Narcissa demure.

Bellatrix was here too? Oh boy, that would be one cosy get-together. He should make pictures for posterity. ‘They can both await their Lord’s arrival, unless, Narcissa, you are suggesting they have a problem in doing so?’

Narcissa swallowed visibly. ‘No, my Lord, of course not.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ he replied sarcastically, moving up the stairs.

‘My Lord, my husband.’

‘What about him?’ Voldemort snapped, stopping in his tracks. If that woman so much as thought the suggestion that he should save him from Azkaban, she would regret it severely – again.

‘Lucius and I were thinking it would be best if Draco went to advanced summer classes in America. I read they have-’

‘Nonsense, Hogwarts has the finest education around. No, I think it would be best if Draco got home this summer. After all, it wouldn’t do for this house to be vacant of a Malfoy man for long, and since Lucius isn’t around and obviously doesn’t apply for the position, I suppose it is time for his son to step up to the plate.’

A vile smile made its way to Voldemort’s face, as he turned around and saw the clear horror on Narcissa’s. Oh, they were going to pay for ruining his chance of obtaining that prophecy, losing their sole heir seemed like a very good trade in his eyes. So he said softly, ‘I look forward to make his acquaintance very much, Narcissa. It would be in Draco’s best interest if you did not disappoint me by trying to send him away. I would be most displeased and you wouldn’t want to displease Lord Voldemort, would you Narcissa?’

Narcissa shook her head and softly mumbled something that sounded like she would never do such an unthinkable thing.

‘I am glad it’s settled then,’ Voldemort added viciously.

There were no more disturbances from Narcissa Malfoy after that and he went up to take a long, luxurious bath, feeling mighty damn pleased with how the day was turning out. When he finally entered the lounge, he noticed his previous thoughts on cosiness had been spot on. Both Severus and Bellatrix had taken the farthest chair they could possibly find from each other and still be in the same room. They were each looking pointedly in another direction. It was clear that their mutual animosity had reached heights to which no Giant could ever hope to achieve. It was most entertaining.

‘Severus, Bella.’

They both jumped in shock. Obviously they mist his arrival. Quickly, they vacated their chairs to greet him appropriately.

He gestured to them to get up. ‘Have a seat, Bella,’ said Voldemort. ‘Severus, I wasn’t expecting you.’

Bella threw a suspicious glare in Snape’s direction.

‘I was under the impression you wanted to be informed when the Mudblood woke, Master,’ Snape said smoothly. ‘She woke today and I arrived here at my earliest convenience to bring you this bit of … unpleasant news.’

‘At your convenience,’ Bella hissed, outraged. ‘It’s our Lord’s convenience you should be taking into consideration.’

‘I wasn’t made aware this news was important enough to break my cover to Albus Dumbledore over,’ Snape said, his voice even, his eyes never leaving Voldemort; but it was obviously a snide put-down to Bella. ‘Otherwise I would have naturally arrived here at your earliest convenience, my Lord.’

Voldemort sat down behind the corner desk that Narcissa used to make crossword puzzles on during summer days. Placing his elbows on the smooth polished wooden surface and interlacing his fingers in front of him, he rested his chin on his hands. ‘Naturally,’ he repeated softly, staring straight into Severus’s eyes. ‘Did Hogwarts suddenly run out of owls?’

Severus seemed surprised. ‘No, of course not, Master, but I took into consideration you may have orders for me to fulfil and if those orders involve business at Hogwarts, then time is of the essence, since the end-of-term feast is tomorrow. Owlpost is not always as reliable as it used to be, especially in these days with Aurors running around left, right and centre.’

The man was good; he had to hand him that. Nothing to see but a blank wall, his emotions always in check, it was impossible to screen Severus Snape and be one-hundred percent sure of his allegiance. Still, all his stories kept checking out and he had always been a valuable Death Eater in the past. To kill him without absolute proof his loyalties had changed could be the biggest mistake of his life. A chance he was not yet willing to take, not with a possible spy in Dumbledore’s camp. He’d just have to keep monitoring the man’s moves and make sure he didn’t get any vital operations information.

‘I see,’ Voldemort said, finally breaking the silence. ‘Your consideration is most appreciated, but I do not-’

PLOF!

Bella jumped to her feet, drawing her wand in haste, while Severus merely turned his head. A blackened Tangmelm’s owl had landed on the ashes in chimney.

‘Put your wand down, Bella,’ said Voldemort, recognising the Keepers’ owl. What would those morons have to complain about this time?

The owl hopped out the chimney, shaking its feathers to clear it from dust and debris. It flapped its wings, flew up and landed in front of Voldemort, holding out its paw. Voldemort narrowed his eyes when he identified the stationary. It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t dare. He snatched the envelope from the now disgruntled owl’s paw. It flew away, snapping its beak in anger. But Voldemort only had eyes for the fine, tiny script on the somewhat blackened envelope, “The Dark Lord”.

None of the other Keepers called him by that name. It had to be her. He had to give credit to the Sorting Hat on this one. She sure had some nerve; according to Severus she was just… Severus! He still had company – company that might be able to identify the handwriting! His eyes flew up, but both Bella and Severus stood in the exact same spot as before. It was not a position from which they would be able to read a thing, so he relaxed, slightly.

‘Get out,’ he ordered, waving with his hand to the door, while focussing his eyes back on the envelope.

‘Master?’ asked Bella, puzzled. ‘You need to know-’

‘Leave,’ Voldemort interrupted. ‘Both of you.’

Recognising that particular tone of voice from their Master and not being in the mood to be on the receiving end of his wand, they exited the lounge quickly. Narcissa was waiting outside.

‘I wouldn’t go in,’ Severus warned her.

‘I didn’t want to go in,’ Narcissa replied; her eyes and nose were red. ‘Bella, we need to talk.’

‘He didn’t listen. I have important information,’ Bella mumbled, distressed.

‘Then you better find a way to tell him, otherwise you’re bound to receive a repeat of what he did to you after your fiasco at the ministry,’ said Snape tauntingly.

‘My fiasco! My!’ Bella shouted, angry again.

‘Shhh, sis,’ Narcissa hushed, watching the door anxiously. ‘Please, we have to talk … in the living room.’ She looked at Severus. ‘You know you’re way out, don’t you?’

‘Of course, Narcissa. If there is anything I can do,’ Snape trailed off.

‘No, you can’t,’ Bella snapped, answering before Narcissa had a chance to speak, and dragging her sister away. ‘Stop being so nice to him just because he is Lucius’s friend. He’s not trustworthy,’ Snape heard Bella hiss before the living room door closed.

The untrustworthy one turned his head and glanced back, while stalking to the front door, wondering what was in that letter Lord Voldemort got. He’d have to make sure Dumbledore heard about it. Whatever was in it, it had to be important for him not to let Bellatrix give her report. Severus Snape had come all this way to find out for the Order if Bella had been successful in her mission, but he couldn’t think of an excuse to get him into hearing the report now. Blasted letter. If he ever found out who wrote it, he would have a “talk” with the writer.

Then, the lounge door exploded.

Snape conjured his shield just in time, for millions and millions of splinters hit it violently. Bella and Narcissa ran into the hallway, wands drawn. However, a furious Dark Lord swirled past them all, grabbing a coat while Apparating away instantaneously. Snape could have sworn he heard him mumble something that involved the terms insolent little girls. He shook his head. That couldn’t be right.

‘Bella, Narcissa,’ Snape said courteously, and he left the mansion, leaving the two baffled women behind. At least he had some news to tell Albus, even if he had no idea what had caused the Dark Lord’s tempter to explode about.

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Deja-vu.

Hermione felt mighty exposed, sitting on the same swing in the same park on a similar eerily dark night; again. Only now she knew whom she was meeting. That didn’t help. It also didn’t help that she had called the meeting. Call it a hunch, but she didn’t think Lord Voldemort would take it well to be summoned anywhere by anyone.

Crack.

Waves of irritation, annoyance and pure rage radiated of the Dark Lord. Yeah, as expected, he took it well.

Hermione’s hands tightened on the swing’s robes. She was like the little bird, watching the snake advance, fascinated, unable to move, hoping by staying still it would not eat you. Perfect odds indeed. The only thing good about her current situation was that she could tell Albus Dumbledore “I told you so” if – correction – when she ended up in the infirmary again.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried. She had tried to move the earth to get Dumbledore to allow her access to the Hogwarts library during the summertime, to get another guide, to do anything that would allow her to avoid this very moment. She couldn’t believe her headmaster wouldn’t help. After she had been cursed into oblivion by a mere letter her “guide” had sent; Dumbledore still expected her to be his apprentice. Did she have to be dead before he took her complaints seriously?

No, right now, her feelings toward the Hogwarts’ Headmaster were less than favourable, to say the least. Actually, she didn’t believe there was a single soul in the whole wide world who wanted to wring his beard around his neck more than her at this very moment.

Her vision turned black and it took her a moment to realise it was the colour of his robes. The Dark Lord stood right in front of her, only inches away, far too close for comfort. It took all of her restraint not to move back on the swing. The silence made the pounding of her heart more pronounced in her mind.

Damn it, why was she even here? She was Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age. This didn’t strike her as something smart people did. No, smart people stayed away from people who hated what you were enough to want you dead. But Dumbledore had given her no other option. She hoped he would choke on one of his lemon drops.

The uncomfortable silence kept continuing, filling the air with the terror of things to come. The wind occasionally brushed his robes against her legs, reminding her someone was standing in front of her; but she kept her eyes steady on her lap. She had to keep it together; she couldn’t panic now. How the Hell did Harry do this?

‘Is the magnificent Albus Dumbledore getting on your nerves?’ Lord Voldemort stated, breaking the silence.

Hermione’s eyes widened. Crap, shit, great; wasn’t there some rule against using Legilimency on your apprentice?

‘No, I am afraid for you and your feeble magical competence there isn’t, Hermione Granger. Not that I, Lord Voldemort, really need it to make the deduction; only Albus Dumbledore can turn that look on someone’s face.’ His creepy laugh filled the air around them.

She craned her neck to look up and meet his eyes. She could do this. She had to do this. She wasn’t going to show fear or embarrassment for that matter. It was his fault anyway.

Lord Voldemort leaned forward with a vicious smile on his face.

To Hell with it, she moved the swing back.

His hands folded around her wrists, and he pulled her up, trapping her against his body. Her breath stuck in her throat. ‘Now, care to explain why I am wasting my time here, Hermione Jean Granger?’ he said threatening, placing clear emphasis on every single syllable of her name.

‘I-I.’

‘What?’ he hissed softly.

She swallowed. ‘I need help,’ she whispered hoarse.

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘With my assignment,’ she added, barely getting the three simple words out her mouth.

The grip on her wrists tightened. A whimper escaped her lips, but he did not let go. He just looked at her with that piercing stare.

‘I told you not to bother me with insipid questions. You have the book I so generously lent you. I am sure you can copy and paste to everyone’s satisfaction. I have seen your expertise in that area when you delivered the answer to your third assignment,’ he said condescendingly, roughly shoving her away.

Hermione just kept her footing and she rubbed her wrists behind his back as he moved away from the swing. Fury began to bubble inside of her as the realisation of what he had said sank in. The third assignment? The third assignment! Oh, that was so unfair! He had no idea how much that assignment had frustrated her.

‘Do not-’

‘The third assignment was bogus,’ Hermione interrupted, her anger and frustration giving her the nerve to talk back. ‘You had to copy Milan’s book. It was the only answer in the way the question was worded. It’s not my fault you lot can’t ask the right questions. I was terribly tempted to just bring the book and be done with it.’

Voldemort turned and looked at her. He had brought Milan’s book all those years ago. Eh, a simple question deserved the simplest of answers. He’d never wasted energy on nonsense.

‘Every single one of those assignments is ridiculous,’ Hermione raged on. ‘And let’s not begin about all those silly,’ she made quotation marks in the air, ‘rules. We have to have absolute secrecy,’ she mimicked Keeper’s Volkova’s voice perfectly. ‘Well, perhaps it would be wise to be a bit more secretive about communications channels or travels for that matter, because I have been questioned about my whereabouts so many times now, I am surprised people are this gullible to still believe a word I say.’

Voldemort folded his arms over each other.

‘And now this book. Argh!’ she shouted out frustrated, pulling “The Reality of Magic” from underneath her coat. ‘It doesn’t make sense. It does not give the answer to the question.’

‘If it is too complicated for you, I don’t think any help would suffice,’ Voldemort replied demeaning.

Hermione growled. ‘I didn’t say it was too complicated, I said it didn’t make sense. I did the math; I rechecked my findings, and it is plain wrong.’

Voldemort stiffened.

Hermione didn’t notice the change in posture, she was too damn angry as she raged on and on and on. ‘McMullen’s Theory of Everything does not compute. You’d have to increase your magical powers by tenfold to make it work in reality. It’s undoable. And what’s with the rest of this book? The Reality of Magic, Hah! The Fiction of Magic would be a more appropriate title.’ She snorted. ‘The five basic laws of magic. They don’t care to explain why these are the five basic laws anyway; so why stop at five? What’s holding them back?’ she sneered sarcastically. ‘They don’t mind making contradictory statements all over this book anyway. Law number four; we can’t fly without aid, but we can levitate without it. If you levitate long enough and high enough, doesn’t that constitute as flying? And what’s with the determination that it is impossible to vary the speed of your spells? Most things in nature don’t travel at constant velocity. Did anyone ever bother to check their statement that spells travel at a constant velocity or-’

She halted abruptly when Voldemort swirled in front of her. ‘Did Dumbledore tell you?’ he hissed furiously.

‘W-What?’ Hermione stuttered; fear replaced anger in a heartbeat. If she hadn’t been so scared right now, the suggestion of Dumbledore telling her anything would have been extremely laughable.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. A bright red flash blinded her eyes. Suddenly, she was back in the library, making notes, feeling frustrated about the lack of consistency in the explanations in front of her. More memories flashed by; her reading “The Reality of Magic”; her remarks to Parvati and Lavender; the endless scroll of Arithmancy equations she made, which did not support the theory; her useless discussion with Dumbledore; and her inability to write an essay filled with laws she didn’t believe in. Until it stopped, just as abruptly as it started.

She shook all over. She felt like she was coming down with a fever of sorts. Sweat trickled down her spine, and she bent over to lean on her knees to catch her breath. When she was finally able to look up again, Lord Voldemort watched her with a calculated, shrewd expression.

‘What,’ breath, ‘was,’ breath, ‘that,’ another breath, ‘for?’ breath.

‘You know the whereabouts of the elementary school in your parents’ town which has the silly clowns’ theme?’

Hermione froze. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

‘I see you do,’ Voldemort said coldly. ‘Be there. Four nights from now, three a.m. Pack all your Hogwarts belongings and anything else you may need. You won’t be going back any time soon.’

Hermione blinked. What? To say she felt confused was putting it mildly.

He started to turn away.

‘Wait!’ Hermione halted. ‘I-I don’t understand.’

He sighed. ‘Your Occlumency skills are abysmal; I can’t have you spill all my secrets to Dumbledore. So, until I am satisfied you can withhold information from him, you will stay at my headquarters during your apprenticeship.’

‘My parents haven’t seen me all year,’ Hermione whispered, torn, ‘and the Weasleys are expecting-’

‘Be there; don’t be there. It’s not me who needs help, Hermione Granger.’

She didn’t know what to do. This was not an outcome she had expected. Staying over at the Dark Lord’s place wasn’t exactly high on her lists of popular vacation spots.

‘Three a.m.,’ Lord Voldemort repeated, interrupting her thought process. ‘I won’t wait.’

He apparated away before she had a chance to speak.

‘Brilliant, just brilliant,’ Hermione muttered. ‘You just had to ask for help, didn’t you Granger?’

She groaned as she reached for the Portkey back to Hogwarts. Now, what was she to do?
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The Apprentice