The Burning Pen

Through the Looking Glass
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 37

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 37 ~ The Birth of a Rebellion

Professor Flitwick finally made it into the Great Hall. Silence fell as he climbed up the dais and walked past the staff members, only his little legs showing beneath the table before he hoisted himself into his seat groggily, all the staff members gazing at him.

Tom Riddle arched an eyebrow at the wizard’s condition while cutting into his very rare steak.

”My, Filius, you seem to have come out on the bad end of a hex,” the Headmaster commented, sliding a dripping piece of meat into his mouth and chewing blissfully.

The Charms teacher pulled a plate of chips towards him rather sullenly and didn’t reply. He winced painfully as he picked up a fork.

Low murmurs began again in the Great Hall.

”Blimey, what happened to Flitwick? He’s covered in boils,” Ron said. “Nasty”

It was true. Painful looking, red boils covered the little wizard’s skin, some oozing fluid.

”Looks like he’s been hexed with the Furnunculus charm. Why doesn’t he use the Episkey spell to heal himself?” Harry wondered out loud.

”Probably something’s interfering with it,” Dean Thomas said, chewing a piece of pork chop. “Usually Flitwick can throw off a hex. Maybe someone added a signature or something and it has to weaken before he can do anything.”

A signature was like a personal sealing spell attuned to one particular wizard or witch to make a spell stick longer. Usually it could only be applied to inanimate objects. It took a lot of talent to cast a signature spell on a living creature. A lot of talent and a lot of intent. Whoever did this to Flitwick had to have wanted the spell to stick badly.

”Hm,” Harry breathed, looking around the Great Hall. “Snape’s not here. Think he did it?”

Hermione continued eating, not offering anything.

”Snape? Maybe . . . if Flitwick went for him first. You know he doesn’t attack people first,” Ron said, shaking his head slightly. “He’d get a lot more respect if he did.”

”You know, Draco’s not here either,” Ginny piped up from the other side of the table. Ginny noticed Draco’s absence because she had a thing for the handsome young wizard. She didn’t act on it although they were both Purebloods. It was because he was in Gryffindor and she was concerned about what people would say. Ginny was considered acceptable because of the ambiguity of her bloodline. No one was sure just how “pure” the Weasleys were. But Draco’s background was well-known. His Pureblood lineage went back generations.

”He’d better have a good reason, but I doubt he does. If he were in the infirmary, Madam Butcher wouldn’t be down here,” Ron said, looking towards Poppy, who was on the dais eating with the rest of the staff.

It was a good thing she was, because at this very moment, professor Snape was raiding her stores for potions.

He picked his way through the infirmary, eyeing the racks, manacles, restraining cots and horrible spiked medical instruments lying on tables, some with blood on them. He shuddered as he made his way to the back of the room. The entire area stunk of old blood. It smelled like a slaughter house.

He wasn’t about to ask Minerva for any potions. She would tell him she was out because of the petition situation. He knew how she operated. And Filch would want something in return, more than likely a torture session. As worried as he was about Draco, Snape wasn’t going to take another caning or worse.

There were cobwebs on the stores cabinets. Snape cleared them with his wand. Poppy rarely used potions or magic to treat her patients. She preferred the “natural” approach. Bleedings, leeches, stitches, water immersion and the like.

Since Poppy didn’t use magic, there were no magical alarms. Normally the infirmary was safe just because no one ever wanted to go there. So Snape was able to collect quite a supply of potions. He doubted she would even notice they were gone unless she saw the lack of cobwebs. He filled his pockets with reduced bottles and hurried out of that horrible domain swiftly, returning to Gryffindor tower.

He entered Draco’s room and placed all the potions on the nightstand by the young wizard’s bed, then looked down at him. He had removed all his clothing except for his briefs, then contacted his father, Lucius Malfoy, via magic mirror, who told him he’d be sending a private healer as soon as he could secure one. Snape promised to do all he could in the meantime.

He stared down at Draco. He was quite a handsome lad. Of course, he and Draco engaged in extra credit, but the Gryffindor’s marks were quite good and so their interactions weren’t that frequent, but always pleasurable. Draco was a fine young wizard. Snape believed he could be a force for change, too, in the future and was grooming him to enter politics.

Snape eyed the bottles, and picked up a healing potion. He wasn’t sure if it would bring the wizard around, but it wouldn’t hurt him. The wizard sat down on the bed and carefully adjusted Draco so he was propped up on his lap.

Snape went to work.

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Tom Riddle returned to his office after supper. He let himself in, sat down and looked across the room at his reflection in the Mirror of Noisreva. He’d had it moved into his office immediately after the Granger counterparts returned to their proper places. In two days, he’d know if Albus Dumbledore had been successful.

He really didn’t give a damn about the students’ petition or the teachers’ situation. Hopefully, Hogwarts wouldn’t be his problem any longer. He had bigger brooms to fly. A world of Purebloods to rule and put in their places . . . if everything went according to plan. He’d be in the position to make the rules, having to answer to no one. No Board of Governors to curtail him. He’d have no enemies. No Bedaub Mules to constantly harass him. The Muggle-Borns here might have a hard time of it, but that would be their problem, not his.

Tom carefully thought out what he would do if he was successful. He’d learned from the other Hermione that his counterpart was absolutely hideous, ruled the Purebloods in his service with an iron wand, and that they were fearful of him. He also learned that Severus Snape served the Dark Lord and was a Potions master rather than a Transfiguration teacher. Rather than glamour himself to look like his malformed counterpart, Tom planned to tell the Purebloods that Snape had come up with an elixir that restored his appearance but left his powers intact. He didn’t have the luxury of being able to use Polyjuice potion. Voldemort was completely hairless. But, that explanation should be sufficient as long as Snape went along with it.

Tom would make sure he did.

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The next morning after breakfast, the Headmaster received a visit from one Hermione Granger. The wizard let her in, eyeing the several pages of parchment she held tightly clamped in her hands.

”Please, sit down, Miss Granger,” he said to her politely.

The witch took a seat on the edge of the plush armchair in front of the Headmaster’s desk.

Although Tom was well aware of why she was there, he went through all the motions.

”How may I help you this morning, Miss Granger?” he asked her.

”Sir, I’d like you to take a look at this petition,” Hermione said, trying not to sound nervous as she offered it over his desk. She kept one parchment in her hand. The wizard leafed through the names as Hermione pleaded her case.

“That petition has the signatures of over one hundred and fifty students from every house, all the age of consent, who want the way extra credit is conducted to change. We don’t have any choice of whether or not we want to do extra credit, what’s done to us, or how many points we receive. We don’t get full recognition for our class work, homework or exams. Headmaster, extra credit is supposed to be just that . . . extra. We shouldn’t have to participate in it if we don’t want to do it. The teachers make it mandatory. They claim it isn’t, but they fail students who don’t participate. It’s not fair and we want it to be more structured.”

Tom gazed at her.

”When you say ‘more structured,’ what do you mean, Miss Granger?” he asked her.

Hermione offered him the other parchment she held. It was Snape’s checklist.

”That’s Professor Snape’s extra credit checklist. It has everything itemized and a strict amount of points that can be earned for each act. A student can pick for his or herself what they are willing to do, and know exactly what it’s going to be worth. The way it is now, the teachers decide what will be done, and give whatever points they want. It’s different for every student. If they are pleased, they give more, if they aren’t they give less. That’s not fair to the student, because he or she did what was asked of them and should receive proper points each and every time.”

She paused to take a breath. Tom was looking at her, but she couldn’t tell if he saw her point or not. Hermione continued.

”Headmaster, we want all the teachers to have to follow a checklist with guaranteed points. It would make things much fairer. And we want options other than sexual, too. Not every teacher appeals to every student. We should have at least one other way to get extra credit in the classes they teach. Extra writing assignments or reports. Maybe special projects . . .”

Hermione faltered for a moment, then said, “That’s what we want.”

Tom studied her for a moment, then looked down at the petition again, looking appropriately thoughtful. After about five minutes of what appeared to be careful consideration, he said, “Miss Granger, I understand what you are asking for, but I do not interfere with the way teachers run their classes as long as they are following the outlines set forth by the Board of Governors. My staff has a right to conduct classes the way they see fit, as long as there are positive results. Our students have done quite well over the years under this system, Miss Granger. I am here to oversee the school, not micro-manage it. Our teachers must have free reign in their classrooms in order to educate the pupils. If you want change in the way a teacher operates, then you must approach each teacher rather than me. I cannot arbitrarily foist change upon them because it may affect their performance, and I could be held accountable for that. So . . . I’m sorry, Miss Granger. I am going to have to turn down your request for change.”

Tom then ripped the petition and checklist in half and handed them back to her.

”You may go,” he said with finality.

Hermione stared at him. That was it? He was passing the Galleon? Oh, this sucked. She bit back the angry, bitter words that rose in her throat like bile, remembering what Snape told her . . . not to make threats. She willed herself to calm and rose.

”Thank you, Headmaster,” she said, her voice quavering a bit, and she exited his office.

”Well,” Tom said to himself. “That was relatively easy.”

His dark eyes turned to the Mirror of Noisreva.

One more day left.

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”He said no,” Hermione hissed at Harry and Ron as they left Advanced Arithmancy. “He said his job was to oversee Hogwarts, not micro-manage it, and if we wanted the teachers to change their ways, we’d have to approach each one of them individually.”

”Sounds like he’s passing the Galleon,” Ron said.

”Exactly. He’s dodging the hex. Well, I think we are going to have to do that first. Ask each teacher to accept the checklist.”

”They’re going to say no, Hermione,” Harry said, frowning. “It will be a complete waste of time.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head.

”No, Harry . . . it won’t be a waste of time. I need to do as the Headmaster said and ask them directly. When they refuse, then we will have the grounds to boycott. If we boycott first without asking them, then we’re the ones who will be in the wrong because we didn’t do as the Headmaster said,” she told him. “We need to follow protocol.”

”Yeah, but you don’t have classes with every teacher, Hermione, and to be honest, even though everybody signed that petition, I don’t think there’s one student who would approach a teacher by himself to ask them to accept the list,” Ron said. “I know I don’t want to do it.”

”That’s okay, Ron. I might not have classes with every teacher, but I can still ask them, and do it expediently, too. All at once,” Hermione said as Harry and Ron looked at her incredulously.

”How do you plan to do that? Break into the staff room? You know that’s off-limits. Filch will have you shackled to the wall with your knickers down faster than you could say ‘Grindelwald,’” Ron warned her.

”I’ll do it, Ron. You’ll see,” Hermione replied cryptically, her brown eyes hard.

Harry looked over at Ron and shook his head.

Hermione had better be careful. She had told them what happened with Flitwick and Draco. She might end up having the whole staff after her . . . with the exception of Snape.

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Draco was doing much better, although he was confined to quarters as the spell dissipated. It would take a couple of days. Flitwick had hit him with a powerful Somnolence hex. Properly applied and with the right amount of intent, it placed a person in a deep, coma-like state for several weeks. It was a rather rare spell, and could easily be mistaken for several others, but Lucius provided a very well-informed healer to treat his son and the wizard figured out the hex in a couple of hours. If Hermione had been hit by the spell, she would have slept until it ended.

The treatment required several doses of a specially brewed tea containing lemongrass, cola nut, yerba, and the droppings of a Flutter Fairy, a very rare sprite said to accompany the “Sandman,” a very elusive parasitic creature whose main purpose was to put humans to sleep and take a bit of their essence in return. It was quite an expensive concoction. Minerva would have given her right tit to have Flutter Fairy droppings in her stores. Lucius also provided a very shapely caretaker to watch over his son as added incentive for a full recovery.

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By lunchtime, word of the Headmaster’s dismissal of the petition had made it around Hogwarts. The students were disheartened. It had seemed so possible that changes would be made. The teachers were openly celebrating, having a bit of wine with their lunch and smiling at the students smugly.

Hermione Granger suddenly stood up and approached the dais, everyone watching and murmuring as she stood in front of the teachers, a parchment in her hands.

”What the fuck is Hermione doing?” Ron hissed at Harry.

”I don’t know,” Harry replied, turning in his seat so he could better see his friend.

Snape’s dark eyes rested on Hermione and the parchment she held. He could see what it was.

”Go, witch,” he breathed to himself as she cleared her throat.

The Great Hall fell silent, and all the teachers scowled at Hermione.

”You there! Go sit back down before you earn yourself a caning!” Filch yelled at her.

Tom Riddle didn’t say anything. He just looked at Hermione curiously.

”I need to address the teachers,” Hermione said bravely. “It will only take a second. I need to talk to all of them and the only time they’re all together is when we eat. So, I thought I’d do it now.”

”Go ahead, Miss Granger,” Tom said, interested.

Hermione held up the checklist.

”This is an extra credit checklist. I know you are all familiar with it, because professor Snape has been trying to institute it for years,” the witch said, shaking the parchment for emphasis. “All I want is a show of hands of the teachers that are willing to follow it. Now, who is willing to follow the checklist?”

Hermione watched as only one hand rose in agreement.

Professor Snape’s.

Hermione blinked at the teachers, then looked at Tom and said, “Headmaster, you told me this morning that if we wanted the teachers to change the way they handled extra credit, to approach them individually. I’ve asked all of them in front of the entire school if they would accept using the checklist. Most of them have refused. Have I done what you’ve asked?”

Tom quirked his lip at her.

”You have indeed, Miss Granger,” he replied. “Every teacher has been properly addressed.”

Hermione nodded, feeling even braver now.

”And just so the rest of the school understands, you’ve said your position is to oversee the school and not micro-manage it, and that what goes on in the teachers’ classes is basically the responsibility of the teachers themselves and you cannot interfere.”

”You are correct, Miss Granger. Unless school rules as instituted by the Board of Governors are being blatantly broken by either staff or students, I cannot and will not interfere,” Tom said, now even more curious as to what the witch had up her sleeve. This was certainly entertaining.

”Very well,” Hermione said, her eyes scanning the teachers, “because most of you have refused to accept this checklist and treat us fairly, we have no choice but to boycott extra credit until you accept our terms. From this point on, only teachers who have agreed to not treat extra credit as mandatory and who follow the checklist will be approached for it.”

Hermione turned to the students as angry cries of negation rose from the teachers.

”Are we agreed?” she cried to the students, who at first didn’t respond. Suddenly, Neville Longbottom rose to his feet.

”We are agreed!” he yelled back at Hermione.

Luna Lovegood rose from the Hufflepuff table. .

”We are agreed, Hermione,” she said softly, her eyes shining as she looked at the witch.

”Agreed!” cried several Gryffindor voices.

”Agreed!” shouted the entire table of Ravenclaw.

Then the Great Hall went wild, all the students standing up, even those not yet the age of consent, all yelling “Agreed!” pumping their fists and stamping their feet, drowning out the protesting teachers.

The din went on for several minutes, Filch snarling at everyone to shut up and take their seats or he’d cane each and every one of them. He was completely ignored.

Tom watched the mayhem with delight, highly entertained. They weren’t rebelling against him after all. Hermione’s questions had clearly distanced him from the issue. The teachers were on their own. Actually, the Headmaster was rather glad the students were showing some chutzpah. They were always so blasted obedient and cowed during meals. His dark eyes fell on Hermione, who was facing away from the dais, thrusting her fist in the air and shouting with the rest of the students. She was magnificent. What a fire starter.

Hermione gestured for the students to take their seats again, then turned and looked up at the now silent teachers with narrowed brown eyes, a twisted, rather evil smile on her lips.

”I think we’re all agreed,” she said to them, arching an eyebrow meaningfully before returning to her seat.

”Hermione, you’re brilliant,” Ron breathed at her.

Hermione looked up at Snape, who nodded at her soberly, his dark eyes full of approval.

”So I’ve been told,” she said softly.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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