CH :132:)

The older Healer handed her a parchment. Hermione blanched. Tiny writing covered the entire spread detailing dozens upon dozens of spells. "These are the one-hundred life savers. By the end of your training here you will know them like the back of your hand. Please read out the first one."

Hermione ran her eyes to the top left hand corner. "Vitals diagnosis charm chain."

Pomfrey nodded, stunned the mouse in the box, lifted it out, placed it on the worktop, pointed her wand at it, and cast five spells in quick succession. Her wand movements were fast and precise, giving the impression she was fighting a sword duel with a bottle-sized opponent. Five numbers bloomed over the mouse, each one a different colour.

"The red number is body temperature. The blue is blood pressure, the green is respiratory rate, the yellow is pulse rate, and the black is magical toxicity. "Your homework will be to describe the function of each spell, what they measure, and to identify what the first spell in your stabilisation chain should be given a high and low number for each of the vitals based on the visual cues on page sixty-three."

Hermione nodded and made a note in her mindscape. They were all just like the spell Healer Pomfrey used at the welcome feast to measure their magical exhaustion, the last, black, one.

"Healer?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I meant to ask you this at the feast, but are these actually charms? I mean, I read that the definition of a charm was a spell that applies a temporary or permanent change to an object without changing its fundamental structure, but these don't do that."

Madam Pomfrey tapped on the table. "Technically, no. But there's a history behind that. We call them charms now because the field the spells originally come from was torn down after the establishment of the international statute of secrecy." The healer swished her wand through the air. "Healing was allowed to keep them because they were considered too useful, and rightly so!"

"—What field?"

Madam Pomfrey looked around distractedly. "What? Oh, divination. That used to mean any spell that dealt with extracting or processing information. Reduced to fortune telling quackery now, unfortunately. Don't know why we keep teaching it." Hermione grinned a feral grin.

"Miss Granger?"

"Oh. Nothing Healer Pomfrey. Just thinking about something. Shall we continue?"

Madam Pomfrey kept her gaze for a moment longer. She stepped back and pointed to the mouse still on the table. "Yes. Please follow the following instructions."

Hermione nodded and started following the healer's directions while dancing a jig in her head. Harry was going to be pleased with her.

Daphne bit her lower lip, again. Who knew such horrific magic existed? What kind of person would willingly murder the person that magic deemed them perfect for? At the front of the room, exactly that person shuffled some parchments on his desk and watched as the rest of the class filed into the defence against the dark arts classroom.

Interestingly, Quirrellmort's attitude to her and Hermione had been gradually shifting over the last few weeks. He now seemed more interested than angry.

Hermione lowered herself onto the bench beside her and leant into her ear. "Divination," she whispered, her voice urgent.

"What?"

"Divination. Madam Pomfrey says divination used to deal with any spell that collected or processed information!"

Her eyes widened. "Why doesn't Harry know that?" "Because Vol—"

She slapped a hand over Hermione's mouth. "Not here," she hissed.

Hermione's eyes widened, flickering towards the front of the class where said possible Dark Lord was now getting to his feet.

The possibly possessed teacher or possible Dark Lord put his hands on the sides of the lectern, glaring at the few stragglers who hastily sat, pulling out quills and ink. "It is Halloween." His voice rang out like a death knell. "The turning of the tides between the light and the dark." So very different to the stuttering imbecile Harry had warned them to expect.

Harry was sat in front of them, as he always did in defence, which was good. Daphne wasn't sure how well she'd handle being in the same room as Voldemort without Harry's ever-reassuring presence.

"As many of you who come from older families know, tonight is the ideal night for many rituals that are considered borderline dark." Quirrellmort grabbed a garlic bulb swinging near his head, gave it a disgusted look and tossed it aside.

"Were you in upper years we would take advantage of that to demonstrate the effects of such solar events on spells cast, but you are not."

He paused.

"Of course, only some of you would be aware of such things given the rot in our world. Miss Granger!" Daphne glanced sideways to see Hermione straighten in her chair.

"You supposedly serve a most ancient and noble line — What are your responsibilities as a vassal to your lord?"

Hermione took a slightly shaky breath "As a vassal I have pledged my wand to my lord. To stand by him in times of need and heed his council in times of peace."

Quirrellmort tilted his head. "And as your magical guardian, are you aware that your lord can marry you off to anyone he so chooses?"

Hermione went slightly red. "I…I am aware."

"And you are fine with this?"

Hermione lifted her chin. "I trust my lord with my life."

Quirrellmort made a single fluid hand motion to his side. "Well then, since you are supposed to be a wand of your lord, you will come up here and we shall see how you do against"—he looked around—"…Mister Malfoy."

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