The Burning Pen

The Ring

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 4

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 4 ~ Hermione’s Decision

Two days later, Hermione stood outside the Potions office. It was eight o’clock in the evening. She was staring at the door, torn. She had considered the last wishes of Professor Snape and the part he had hoped she would play in fulfilling them. It would be a great imposition on her, but then again, Snape had sacrificed so much for the wizarding world in his service to the Order. He never received a reward for spying on Voldemort all those years. Things would have been so much worse without the information he provided about the Dark Lord’s planned activities. Snape had saved many lives.

No one knew what happened to the Dark Lord. Albus simply said that all signatures of his dark magic were gone, which suggested the Dark Lord was dead. But how he died was a great mystery. A number of books were available promoting different theories, but not one was a certainty. At least he was gone, however. Thank the gods for that.

Hermione stared at the door for a bit longer, then pulled out her wand.

“Alohamora," she said, and heard the door unlock. She turned the handle and pushed it open. She entered the Potions office. It seemed the substitution Potions Mistress had already begun making changes. Most of the horrible pickled creatures Snape had kept in jars on the shelving behind his desk, were gone. He wouldn’t have liked that. Snape thought first impressions were important, and the backdrop of hideous dead things helped soften up students and visitors quite nicely as far as he was concerned. Most thought he used the creepy corpses in his potions and brews, but he didn’t. He simply liked to let people think so. It made him appear even darker and wickeder. He really worked on that image. It helped keep the idiots away.

Hermione walked through the office to a wall and looked at its bareness. Her eyes fell on a torch that seemed to have a slight glow other than its flame. She pulled on it, noticing the glow faded the moment she did so and did not return. The glow must have been meant to attract her initial attention since the rooms were attuned to her. Now that she knew the torch was the way in, it wouldn’t glow again. The wall slid back, then to the side, revealing Snape’s study. She had been here before. The torches ignited immediately upon her entrance, as did the fireplace. It was so quiet and still here. Like a shrine or tomb. Hermione walked over to a wall of books and looked at some of the titles, gasping at the rarity of some of the tomes. They were all hers now. Her eyes glistened when she thought of the wizard’s generosity to her. In the missive he said that she would probably be the only one who would not liquidate the library and sell its contents. He was right. The library was worth far more than money to the witch. She would have to ask Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian to help her catalogue them all, so she knew what she had.

Albus said the books could remain in the private rooms. She would spell them so they could not be removed without her express permission. Not even by the new occupant, which would probably be the current Potions Mistress, who was currently domiciled elsewhere. Hermione strolled through the study. There was a bottle of firewhiskey on the small table between two armchairs facing the fire. An empty glass sat next to it. Snape’s final drink. Hermione picked the glass up and held it for a moment, knowing it was probably the last thing he touched before heading out to battle. Her eyes welled up, and she sat it down.

She walked into his bedroom. It was quite austere, having only a bed, a wardrobe, an end table, a dresser and a chair. The walls were bare. Snape never kept portraits anywhere in his rooms. He said they were spies for Albus. He was right too. That was the secret of the Headmaster’s seeming omniscience. Tattling pictures. People had a tendency not to notice them and spoke freely in front of the portraits, which would then inform Albus of the latest happenings about the castle.

After Snape told her this, Hermione removed several portraits from her own rooms. Initially, she had left a painting she liked of a river, surrounded by a copse of trees, but one night out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight movement in the painting. She walked over to it, peering at it. There was another tiny motion in the copse of trees. She saw someone hiding behind an oak tree.

“Come out of there!” she said, “Or I swear I will cast a paint removing spell on this painting!”

A small painted wizard with curly brown hair and a large mustache stepped out of the forest, looking sheepish. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted something at her, but was too far away for Hermione to hear him. It was a landscape painting after all.

“You get out of this painting. If I catch you spying on me again, I will spot clean you,” Hermione hissed at the image, which immediately took off running and disappeared past the edge of the scene. Hermione never felt comfortable with the painted scene again, and so took the painting down.

Hermione walked over to Snape’s bed. The green and silver sheets were rumpled, and the pillow still held the indentation of the Professor’s head. Hermione stared at the pillow, then climbed into the bed and lay on her back, resting her head in the depression. She lay there quietly in the bed, where the Professor had last lain, looking up at the ceiling, sadness in her amber eyes. Snape had been a great wizard, and, she suspected, a lonely one despite his snarkiness. She could have helped allay that loneliness, if only he had confided in her what he felt. She rolled over, her face pressing into the pillow. She could smell the faint scent of sandalwood.

There should be more to remember of Severus Snape than an indentation on a pillow, an empty glass and the faint smell of his favorite scent. He was a hero. He had not even received a memorial service. Not many people would have attended anyway. Hermione sat up in the bed and made her decision. She would fulfill Snape’s last wishes. He deserved that much. Maybe it wouldn’t be a difficult journey. The missive had said she would be provided for. She had not yet replaced her lost wand, and was getting by with one of the school wands that were provided for the less affluent students, those whose parents could barely afford tuition. So she was used to being wandless at this point. Traveling without magic would not be difficult for her.

Hermione rolled out of the bed, and smoothed the silk sheets with her hand before walking back into the study. She looked around. Albus had said that the thing she was to deliver to Snape’s ancestral home was hidden someplace in his rooms, and that the ring would help her find it. She looked down at the ring. It sat there on her finger like any other piece of jewelry would. She held her hand up and examined the ring, turning her hand back and forth.

“Show me where the item is I need to take to the Professor’s ancestral home,” she intoned.

The ring sat on her finger and did nothing. Hermione tried again.

“Show me, O ring, your Master’s secrets!” she said, thinking she hadn’t sounded dramatic enough for the ring to respond. Still nothing. Hermione dropped her hand, scowling.

“Drat. I wish it would show me where the damn thing was,” she griped. Suddenly the ring grew warm, very warm. Hermione looked at it. The “S” flashed a blue light slowly, then stopped. Hermione shook her hand to try and get it to light up again. Nothing happened.

Aggravated, she walked forward, and the ring flashed again, and began to blink very slowly. Hermione walked backward, and the blinking slowed. She cocked her head at it.

“What are you about?” she asked the ring, which of course did not answer her.

She walked forward again, and the blinking became a bit faster. Insight came to her. Holding her hand in front of her, she began to walk around the study. When the ring blinked faster, she continued in the direction she was going until it slowed again, then turned to another direction which made it blink faster.

“I see!” She said to the ring. “You blink faster when I am getting closer to what I am looking for!” She had discovered the secret. She followed the blinking ring until she came to the fireplace. It was blinking so fast, the light seemed a steady glow now. The item was in the fireplace somewhere. Hermione ran her hands over the stones slowly. Close to the bottom, her hand passed through a stone, and touched something small and cold. She felt around again, and felt a small bag with something hard inside. She drew out both items. The cold item was a small, black, seamless box, made of onyx, like the “S” on her ring. The other item was a small, black velvet bag with a gold drawstring and an “S” embroidered on it. The ring suddenly grew very warm on her finger, then cooled and ceased to glow. She had found what she needed.

Hermione walked over to Snape’s small writing desk and set the box and bag down on top of it. She drew out the chair and sat. down, just looking at the items for a moment. Then she picked up the box and turned it over and over in her hands. She could find no way to open it. She looked at it closer and noticed the image of a serpent was etched into the surface of the box. When she shifted the box in the light, the serpent seemed to move, the coils undulating, and the eyes flashing up at her. Extraordinary!

“What are you?” Hermione whispered. “Are you what I am to take on my journey?”

Hermione started and almost dropped the box. It seemed to pulse in her hand at her question. She carefully put it down and picked up the velvet bag. She felt it gingerly. It felt like there were coins inside. She opened the bag and dumped the contents into her hand. A galleon and some sickles dropped out. She put the bag down on the desk, and looked at the money. It wasn’t much. She picked up the bag and was about to put the coins back in it, when she heard clinking. She turned the bag over again, and three more galleons dropped out of it. Her mouth fell open. She shook the bag, making sure it was empty and put it back down on the desktop. After a moment she picked it up. There were more coins inside.

“Wow,” she breathed, “A moneybag.”

Moneybags were extremely rare. They provided the exact amount of coinage needed to make a purchase. Supposedly a moneybag was magically linked to a large hidden cache of money, and was connected in some way to Gringott’s bank. Just why the money was provided was a mystery that only the goblins who ran the bank knew the answer to, and they weren’t telling. How did Snape have one? Hermione looked at the bag. Well, now she knew how she would be provided for on her journey. With the moneybag she could pay for food, lodging and transportation without carrying a large sum. She would have to be careful with it, however. She couldn’t let anyone know the source of her wealth.

Hermione gathered the box and bag together, and put them in her robes pocket. She started to exit Snape’s private rooms. She would have to inform the Headmaster of her decision to fulfill Snape’s last wishes, let her parents know she would be doing some traveling, and close down her labs. Just as she was about to leave the room, there was a loud, raucous caw from the rafters above her. She looked up and saw two points of light gleaming down at her. Suddenly, Raucous dropped down from the ceiling, landing neatly on the floor and looking up at her.

Birds don’t have a great many facial expressions, but the raven tilted its head at her slowly, and seemed to radiate a distinct feeling of great sadness.

“Hello Raucous,” Hermione said quietly. She and the bird did not get along, but she felt sympathy for the familiar. It had lost its Master and probably was grieving for him.

“I’m so sorry about the Professor, Raucous,” she said to the bird, who let out a small, keening cry in response and fluttered its wings. “You belong to me now. That’s what he wanted.”

The bird ducked its head and fluttered its wings some more, as if to say it understood. It seemed resigned to its fate. Hermione looked at it.

“If you behave yourself, you’ll find I’m not so bad. I won’t work you too hard. You’ll have a lot of freedom until I get back from my journey,” she said. The bird looked up at her excitedly and began to hop about cawing. He made quite a racket.

“Raucous! What in the world is wrong with you?” she said. The bird hopped about wildly, then flew up and perched on her shoulder, preening her hair frantically. Hermione hunched her shoulder a bit. The bird was rather large and had a good grip on her shoulder with its clawed feet. It didn’t hurt however. Raucous continued preening her hair, combing the strands from root to end. Hermione understood.

“You want to go with me?” she asked. Raucous let out a deafening caw. She turned her face toward the bird a bit. Having a familiar along to deliver inquiries might be a good idea. The missive said she would have to journey alone, but she was sure that meant human companions. She raised an eyebrow at the bird.

“All right, Raucous. I’ll take you. But you’d better behave yourself or I’ll turn you into a feather duster,” Hermione said with a slight scowl.

The bird cawed, then clipped its beak at her. If ravens could smile, Raucous would be all teeth.

Hermione walked to the study exit, Raucous still clinging to her shoulder.

“You’re coming with me now?” she asked the bird. It nodded. Raucous was really very bright. Hermione realized that the bird must have been lonely without the Potions Master, and needed company. He belonged to her now anyway. It made sense that he would now stay with her.

“All right, Raucous. I’ll fix you up a perch in my room, and set the floo so you can come and go at will.”

The raven cawed and preened her hair again. He did a very good job of removing snarls. Maybe he’d be useful in other ways as well. Familiar and witch left the Potions Master’s room.

They had an adventure to prepare for.

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A/N: Seems like Hermione has acquired a traveling buddy. Man, I could use a moneybag right now. Lol. Please review

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