Hermione, Harry, and Ron, in thick masks that completely hid the lower halves of their faces, were bent over the seedlings of Sleeping Lavender. Without the masks, they'd risk being sent straight to the land of Morpheus — even the young shoots were already giving off a sweet, heavy scent that could knock out any careless student. Just five minutes earlier, Nora Scarleton had been hauled outside for air — the poor girl had sneezed, some of the dangerous lavender scent had slipped under her mask, and she'd dropped on the spot.
Herbology was drawing to a close, and Hermione was already sorting through the new material in her head when Harry's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
"I've never seen Professor McGonagall mess up a spell in Transfiguration before. And this one wasn't even hard… even Hermione got it on the first go."
Hermione slowly arched an eyebrow.
"Even Hermione?" she repeated, her tone dangerously calm. "So you think I'm bad at magic?"
"No! That's not what I meant —" Harry said, flustered. "I just meant that if students can do it on the first try, then Professor McGonagall definitely should have managed it!"
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and Harry hurried to correct himself.
"Er… only the best students manage it on the first try."
She paused, weighing his words, then decided to be generous and accept his explanation.
"Actually, it's not that strange," she said. "I've noticed for a while that Professor McGonagall hasn't been herself. Which makes sense — they've been dragging her to the Ministry of Magic nonstop over the Casper Honeydew case."
"Still?" Ron exclaimed, joining in. He jabbed at the soil around the lavender's roots, though it was clear he cared far more about McGonagall than the plant. "What could they possibly be going over for that long? Honeydew's a criminal — it's plain as day!"
"Plain or not, Casper's parents don't see it that way. His family is influential and wealthy, with along pure-blood pedigree," Hermione said, putting particular emphasis on the last two words, her tone making it perfectly clear what she thought of people who attached any importance to that. "In any case, their lawyer, Argumentus Scribble, claims Professor McGonagall jumped to conclusions and completely slandered the poor boy."
"Attempted murder is 'completely slandered'?!" Ron burst out, much too loudly.
Professor Sprout, who had been walking past, wheeled around and fixed him with a stern glare.
"Kindly get on with your work, Mr Weasley," she said sharply. "And what exactly are you talking about? Attempted murder?"
"We only read about it in the 'Daily Prophet', Professor," Harry said quickly, arranging his face into what he clearly hoped was an expression of perfect innocence. No one at school — apart from Dumbledore and McGonagall — knew what Casper Honeydew had actually been accused of.
Professor Sprout fixed Harry with a suspicious stare for several long seconds. She lingered a moment longer, watching to make sure they had properly returned to their task, and only then walked off.
"So how's that possible?" Ron continued in a low voice. "We all saw it — we can testify to it! And anyway, why not just use Veritaserum?"
"It's not as straightforward as it seems," Hermione said with a sigh. "Veritaserum doesn't guarantee absolute truth. It only makes a person say what they believe to be true."
"What does that even mean?" Harry looked completely baffled. "If someone believes they saw something, then they saw it!" he said heatedly.
"That's not how it works, Harry," Hermione shot back. "It's much more complicated than you think. According to Mr Scribble, we could have been under a powerful illusion and seen something entirely different from what was actually happening. Another possibility is that our memories were altered. Or we might have been under the Imperius Curse ourselves, acting out someone else's plan!" She paused and looked at both of them. "There have been cases like that before."
Harry and Ron stared at her, stunned. Magic was supposed to make things simpler, but somehow it only made everything messier. Hermione, meanwhile, bit her lip, evidently turning those possibilities over in her own mind. Then she exhaled.
"Though it all looked very real… At least, that's how I remember it."
Harry and Ron shot each other a look, plainly rattled by what they'd just heard. Ron's face made it clear he didn't agree with any of it — as far as he was concerned, Casper's guilt was beyond question, and all this talk of illusions and tampered memories was outright nonsense. The Sleeping Lavender he'd been tending paid the price. He clipped it a few times more than necessary, and now it stood bare of leaves — only a lone flower swaying plaintively on its thin stem.
"Even if we assume all that's possible…" he said at last, setting down the shears and glowering at what remained of the plant. "Why are they hauling in Professor McGonagall? And more importantly — what could she possibly be so worried about?"
"I think it comes down to her ties to Thomas Nightshade when she was young," Hermione replied, moving on to the next plant. "It's no secret that while they were at Hogwarts, they were… well. Close. The Honeydews' lawyer is now trying to make it look as though McGonagall was deliberately helping Nightshade even back then. And that this time she sided with him again — and when it all fell apart, she dumped the blame on Honeydew."
Harry and Ron gawked at her, the Sleeping Lavender completely forgotten.
"And there's also that portal book," Hermione went on, "the one Honeydew used to get away. McGonagall helped create it."
"What?!" Harry gaped at her.
Hermione nodded. "Yes. She told me herself. It was obvious anyway."
Ron and Harry shook their heads at the same time.
"No, it wasn't," Ron muttered.
"And that's still not all," Hermione pressed on, not even glancing at him. "By creating that portal, she violated Hogwarts security rules. The school was designed so that no one could simply Apparate in or out whenever they liked. The only fast way in or out is through the fireplace in Dumbledore's office."
"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley!" Professor Sprout's voice thundered beside them. "Your conversation may be very absorbing, but it is clearly getting in the way of your work. Five points from Gryffindor!"
The boys had been far too caught up in Hermione's words to pay any attention to the Lavender. At the shout, they immediately bent back over the seedlings, putting on a show of intense concentration. Professor Sprout, however, kept a close watch on them until the end of the lesson, leaving them no opportunity to resume the discussion.
***
Hermione sat on her bed, only half listening to her roommates' chatter. They had made themselves comfortable on the pouffes in the corner, dissecting the latest round of Hogwarts gossip. McGonagall's name came up again — lately it seemed to surface everywhere. Her constant absences, the pieces about her in the 'Daily Prophet', the letters arriving by Ministry owls… it was bound to stir up interest, especially among students from her own House — Gryffindor.
"…and I heard she's a secret Ministry agent," Lila declared, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets. "This whole Honeydew affair is just a cover."
"What do you mean?" Nora looked at her blankly.
"Well, supposedly the Ministry's known the truth all along and doesn't suspect her of anything," Lila went on. "They say they deliberately dredged up that business with Nightshade. Now they can summon McGonagall to Secret Chancery meetings whenever they like, and everyone assumes it's because of the Honeydew investigation."
"Don't be ridiculous," Nora said, brushing it aside. "I heard something else entirely: that she and that Nightshade had an affair. As early as fifth year! And that's what she's trying to cover up."
"McGonagall? An affair? In fifth year?!" Lila almost spluttered, staring at Nora with wide eyes. "You're joking."
"Oh, I see why that shocks you," Nora laughed. "But back then she was completely different. They say she wore bat-shaped earrings and danced barefoot in the kitchens with the house-elves!"
"You just made that up," Lila snorted.
"I'm telling you what I was told," Nora replied, spreading her hands. "A sixth-year told me. She says her older sister saw the photographs herself. Apparently McGonagall was nothing like she is now! And these days she puts on that strict act so no one guesses what a wild youth she had."
Hermione lifted her eyes from her book. Bat-shaped earrings? Dancing with house-elves? It all sounded so absurd she almost wanted to see just how far Nora's imagination would stretch.
"Well, actually, anything's possible!" Lila said suddenly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "Have you heard the latest? After this, I won't be surprised by anything. It's about Snape!"
Nora perked up at once, waiting for the rest. Hermione even set her book aside. She'd grown used to the endless talk about McGonagall, but gossip about the Potions master? So far, he hadn't come under Nora and Lila's fire.
"So," Lila went on eagerly, "it turns out Snape isn't nasty for no reason! It's all because of… unrequited love!"
Nora gave a sharp snort, trying not to burst out laughing.
"Snape? In love? Oh, please! Have you lost it? That's even harder to believe than McGonagall's scandalous youth. I don't think Snape's capable of feelings like that at all. He's always cold as ice. Who could he possibly fall for?"
"That's the most interesting part," Lila said, drawing out the words. "They say he's been in love for years with a certain witch. Lady Letitia Blackstone. Ever heard of her?"
Nora shrugged, clearly at a loss.
"Lady? What's that supposed to mean? And who is she?"
"She's from a very wealthy magical family," Lila said with growing excitement. "But her father's a Muggle. And not just some shopkeeper — a real earl! Sir Blackstone. They say he's personally acquainted with the Queen of England herself! So this Letitia holds a high position both in the wizarding world and among Muggles."
"I've never heard of her," Nora muttered, puzzled. "What's she got to do with Snape? Did they go out or something?"
"From what people are saying, Letitia hasn't the faintest idea she's got a secret admirer at Hogwarts!" Lila sniggered. "Snape's never even spoken to her — he just pines from a distance, knowing she's completely out of his league. That's why he's always so sour and foul-tempered!"
"Hang on…" Nora paused, her tone sharpening. "Are you honestly telling me he's in love with a woman he's never even talked to? That's weird. Even for Snape. Where did you even get that from?"
"Her portrait's hanging in the dungeons, near the Potions classroom…" Lila started, but Nora cut in straight away.
"Wait. A portrait? Of Letitia Blackstone?" She stared at her friend in disbelief. "Does Hogwarts hang portraits of people just because they're rich?"
"Apparently it does," Lila said with a shrug. "She studied at Hogwarts once, before Snape's time. Then she donated a pile of Galleons to the school — so they hung her portrait with the other honoured benefactors."
Nora frowned, trying to picture the portraits along that wall.
"They're mostly men…" she said slowly.
"Right. But remember that woman in the odd green outfit? With the silvery hair?" Lila prompted.
Realisation flickered in Nora's eyes — and then even greater shock.
"Wait… you mean that same toad we spent all last winter laughing at?!"
"Yes!" Lila cried, no longer hiding her smile. "That's her!"
"But she really does look like a toad in a dress!" Nora shook her head, still reeling. "I always thought it was just someone's dreadful attempt at painting some sort of fairy-tale frog princess!"
"To be honest, I thought so too," Lila admitted. "But they say it does resemble Letitia, at least somewhat. She's prettier in real life, of course — but why she chose such a hideous portrait is beyond me. Especially if she meant to preserve her image at Hogwarts!"
"Yeah, that's odd," Nora pulled a face. "But what's even stranger is that anyone could fall for that!" There was genuine disbelief in her voice. "Snape's no looker either, obviously, but even he, compared to her…" She broke off, searching for words, then glanced at Lila again. "Anyway, what's the portrait got to do with it? How is that connected to Snape?"
"They say he's been seen standing right in front of it more than once," Lila said, visibly excited. "Usually in the evenings. Several people have noticed. As if he were admiring her. Some even claim he talks to her! But the second anyone appears, he turns around and leaves."
"And that's it?" Nora arched an eyebrow. "That's enough to decide he's in love with a toad?"
"Well… yes…" Lila hesitated, a little thrown off. "I mean, why else would he be staring at her at night?"
Hermione let out a long, weary sigh. What complete nonsense. The things students came up with when they had nothing better to do. They'd be better off using that time to study. Though… it might be worth seeing that portrait for herself.
In any case, she was far too tired tonight to untangle that stream of stupidity. She shoved her textbooks aside, climbed into bed, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and tried to get comfortable. Rolling onto her side, she slipped her hand under the pillow out of habit — and froze. Her fingers had brushed against something that shouldn't have been there.
She pushed herself upright and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. Her heart started hammering. It wasn't her handwriting. Not some scrap she'd misplaced. It was a note.
"You can't hide from us. Get ready."
The Smiting Hand.