Chapter 16:  The Trophy Wall

      There was blood in her mouth. The metallic tang on her tongue was the first sign that her hastily erected shield had been a bad idea. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." She muttered under her breath.

        "Sorry about that," Ron said sheepishly as he pulled her to her feet.

        "You shouldn't be apologizing, Mr. Weasley, that was a brilliant use of a low level spell." Professor Mulciber said. "Had Ms. Granger been paying attention to your body language, she would not be bleeding right now."

        Hermione pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the blood from her chin. "Accio wand." She muttered.

        Professor Mulciber gave Hermione one hard, penetrating look before pointedly turning his back on her. "Can anyone tell me why Mr. Weasley's Expelliarmus spell had such a volatile effect on Ms. Granger?"

        He looked around expectantly, sharp blue eyes focusing on every student daring them to respond before moving onto the next student, offering the same challenge. There was no response to his question. The rest of the class appeared to be just as shocked at the outcome of Ron's spell as he had been when his Expelliarmus sent Hermione crashing into the wall.

        "No one?" Mulciber asked is amusement.

        Hermione used a quick sealing charm to stop her bleeding lip before she turned to face the retired Auror and Professor.

        "Yes," Professor Mulciber murmured. "Of course, you would know, Ms. Granger." There was a hint of annoyance shaded with something more ominous in his tone. "Please feel free to enlighten the rest of your class since they obviously felt it unnecessary to read their books."

        Hermione straightened her shoulders; her pride was already smarting from the losing the duel with Ron, so she chose to ignore the Professor's condescending tone.

        "I was too focused on my strategy." She began, one hand unconsciously playing with the sleeve of her hunter-green robe. "I didn't pay enough attention to Ron, I put up my shield to allow myself extra time for my following attack. Unfortunately, the shielding spell that I used reacts badly when exposed to Expelliarmus."

        "Indeed, it does react badly, as is apparent by your current state of disrepair. You should have been expecting it from Mr. Weasley; he rarely uses higher-level spells in his attacks. I expect better from you next time, Ms. Granger." He shot a look over his shoulder at her then announced in his steely voice, "Class is dismissed, I expect you all to be better prepared next week."

        Hermione sighed dejectedly and turned towards Ron and Harry who were waiting for her with identical expressions of commiseration.

        "I'm really sorry," Ron began immediately, "does it hurt?"

        Hermione waved his apology away with her hand. "It was my fault. I was under-estimating you."

        "No, you weren't," Ron replied, "You were overestimating me. You thought I would use a more powerful spell, not one that any old third-year can master in a few minutes." Ron's face fell.

        "I think that you're both being stupid." Harry cut in before Hermione and Ron could start to feel any more sorry for themselves then they already did. "You can't always tell what your opponent is planning." Harry shouldered his pack and lowered his voice, "and Professor Mulciber is an a..."

        Harry stopped abruptly as their professor cleared his voice behind them.

        "Ms. Granger, I would like to speak with you later. I understand that you have a physical defense class with Professor Bankotsu now, but I expect you to come by my office afterwards." His voice was low and falsely soothing, he didn't expect her to argue.

        And she didn't. Hermione only nodded before quickly making her escape along with Harry and Ron.

        "You know," She snapped as they hurried down the busy hallway, "I never thought we would have a teacher as disagreeable as Professor Snape but Mulciber consistently proves me wrong."

        "That man is such a bastard," Ron agreed as he pulled the door to their physical defense class open for Hermione.

        They were the first to arrive. The floor mats were folded against the far wall underneath the large windows that showed a scene of late spring splendor.

        "Oh no, not meditation," Ron groaned, "it's a lot more fun when we're kicking things."

        Hermione tutted, "Professor Bankotsu says that having a calm inner mind is the very first step to..."

        Ron interrupted, "I know, I know what he says. I am in the same class with you, Hermione. I do listen."

        Harry and Hermione looked at him in disbelief.

        "I do!" He exclaimed indignantly, "Well, most of the time."

        "I don't like how he looks at you." Harry said suddenly, his tone very serious, as he pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose.

        Confused Hermione asked, "What?"

        Harry flushed as if this was a topic that he didn't want to think about, let alone talk about. "I don't like how Professor Mulciber looks at you sometimes."

        Hermione laughed, "Well neither do I, Harry. He's always glaring at me."

        "I...I don't think that's what Harry is referring to." Ron muttered suddenly just as crimson as Harry.

        She looked at her two friends not quite understanding what they were talking about. Harry and Ron seemed to be implying that Mulciber was somehow interested in something other than nurturing her auroring skills. She laughed easily, "Don't be ridiculous. That man would rather curse me than look at me. Come on, we need to get changed."

        Hermione slipped into the antechamber to change into the loose-fitting gi that they wore for Professor Bankotsu's class. She didn't notice the look that they shared.

~*~*~*~

        Hermione brought her arms up above her head as she inhaled slowly. As she held her breath and her pose she couldn't help but worry about the upcoming meeting with Mulciber. Harry was right. The man was an ass.

They had been in his class for seven months now. Their very first year at Aylesbury was quickly coming to a close. Hermione loved almost all of the classes. There was the all encompassing Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts taught by a rather pretty witch that Harry had become quite smitten with during the year named Honoria Nettles. There was a potions class that was held in a room with so many windows that Hermione could hardly remember the darkness of Snape's class. They had healing classes where Ron was beginning to really excel. There were classes devoted to research, classes on spell crafting. Both of those made Hermione giddy with excitement just to think about. There were classes on the laws of the ministry. There were classes dealing with Muggle interactions. Professor Mulciber's class was a dueling class. He was supposed to teach them how to fight one another as if they were bitter enemies.

He had done nothing but single Hermione out since day one. Almost a whole school year later and he had yet to let up. The classes at Aylesbury were difficult enough without having a professor who seemed to have an agenda her.

"This is ridiculous!" A low voice hissed out in the silent room.

Hermione opened her eyes a fraction trying to locate the owner of the complaint. It wasn't hard. Gertie Scrimgeour had her arms crossed defiantly in her lap while she glared at Professor Bankotsu who sat in the middle of the room, his eyes still closed.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Scrimgeour?" He asked softly without appearing to move at all.

"I said that this is ridiculous."

Most of the class had now abandoned their meditation poses to watch the interaction.

"It's one thing to teach us self-defense. I think that it is a waste of my time to learn the best places to hit someone with my hand but I do it anyway. But this...this meditation mumbo-jumbo is simply useless!" Her voice rose shrilly forcing Hermione to wince.

"It is indeed a shame that you think so, Ms. Scrimgeour. No one is making you stay but before you go rushing out in righteous indignation I ought to remind you that this class is required." Their Professor had yet to open his eyes.

Gertie's face reddened but she didn't back down. "Fine." She snapped before bolting from the room.

Hermione smiled to herself as a memory of doing a very similar thing herself came to mind.

"Well, on that note I imagine that the tensions in the room are too strong for anymore productive meditation today." Their Professor opened his eyes and unfolded himself from his cross-legged position. "I hope that not all of you feel as negatively about this class as Ms. Scrimgeour does." He smiled, a twinkle in his dark eyes as he dismissed the class.

Hermione stretched out her legs slowly. To her right she could hear Ron complaining as he tried to stand. They had been sitting in the same position for over an hour. She wiggled her toes quickly in an attempt to relieve the pins and needles sensation. Usually Hermione was able to separate her mind from her body and avoid the unpleasant sensations that accompanied lack of circulation.

Ron wasn't very good at it. He was far too fidgety. It took him two whole months to learn to sit still. He was never able to understand that his mind was more than part of his body. After one of Professor Bankotsu's meditation classes he complained for hours of strained muscles and tired joints while Hermione generally felt relaxed and revitalized. But today was different. Today she had been unable to make the mental separation that a successful meditation required.

She pressed slender fingers to her legs and began to apply light pressure in concentric circles.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at her Professor. "Yes Sir?"

"Stay and talk with me a for a moment." He sat in front of her before she could answer returning to his earlier meditative position with his eyes closed and his legs crossed.

They sat silently for a moment before Hermione prompted, "Professor?"

"You seemed to be having difficulty in resting your mind this afternoon." Bankotsu said softly.

Hermione flushed, she was starting to have an all around bad day. "I am very sorry, Professor. I am meeting Professor Mulciber in a few minutes and it has me distracted."

Her professor opened his eyes at the mention of Mulciber's name. They flashed intensely for a moment before disappearing behind his normally complacent expression.

"Forgive me," he apologized with a formal tone at seeing her slightly shocked expression. "Professor Mulciber and I rarely see eye to eye."

Hermione noticed that Harry and Ron were standing near the door waiting for her. She waved them away with a quick whish of her hand. They nodded, smiled, and disappeared through the door.

Professor Bankotsu followed this action with a watchful eye. When Harry and Ron were gone his attention returned to her again. "They are very protecting of you, your friends."

Hermione blushed lightly, "just as I am of them."

"Next year this class will be an elective."

She nodded, "Yes, I knew that."

"Have you thought about your specialization?" He questioned.

Hermione sighed, she had been thinking about nothing else for at least two months now. The first year at Aylesbury was devoted to basic classes that every Auror would need. At the end of that year they were expected to pick a focus area. Their second year would be spent taking continuations of some of the basic classes as well as classes devoted to their area of interest. The third and final year would be taken up with advanced classes and if one was a lucky, an internship with an Auror who had specialized in their chosen field.

"I haven't decided," Hermione replied honestly, "I was thinking of going into spell crafting. I've always enjoyed making my own spells."

"Yes," he nodded, "that would probably be a good choice for you. But if I may, I would like to suggest something else."

Hermione nodded quickly, "Of course, Professor." She was quite fond of Professor Bankotsu.

"There is a school of magic that you rarely see this far west, it is quite common in my homeland but it has been long neglected here."

Her professor stood quickly, gracefully, and crossed the room in long-legged strides. He produced a book from out of a small magical cupboard that Hermione had never even noticed before. He returned to her just as quickly. Hermione could tell that he was excited as he handed her the book.

It was simple. Bound in old black leather that was dried and cracking from generations of use. Hermione opened it carefully and scanned the first page.

"Is this Japanese?" She asked him.

"Yes, I would like you to read through this book, I think you would be very suited to its teachings." He smiled warmly at her.

"B...But I do not know Japanese, Sir." Hermione replied almost plaintively.

Bankotsu grinned at her, "Is that going to be a problem?"

Hermione looked thoughtfully back down at the book. A small, excited bubble was beginning to form deep inside her. What was Professor Bankotsu talking about? What was in the book? "No, Sir, that shouldn't be a problem."

~*~*~*~

        She had to wait for Professor Mulciber outside of his office. There were other offices branching off of the long hallway that she was waiting in. Several other Professors and Aurors had passed her by already. Most were oblivious to her presence but some seemed to slow down to properly look at her suspiciously.

        The high-backed mahogany chairs that lined the walls must have been made to be uncomfortable to their occupants. She had been stretching and turn for at least fifteen minutes in one and she was quite miserable. But Hermione tried not to dwell on the chairs for she had noticed almost at once that the thick wooden armrests were scarred with marks and indentations which made her think that manacles had once been part of the package.

        Hermione folded her hands in her lap. It wasn't like Hogwarts. If she had been waiting outside of Snape's office she should have been terrified. But for all of his dark looks and rude comments, Professor Mulciber was not Snape. He could be just as unpleasant as her old Potions teacher, but Hermione wasn't afraid of him. She was not sitting outside of his office, in a chair that may or may not have been used in some sort of torture, quaking in her terribly sensible shoes. No, Hermione was uncomfortable and annoyed, but she was far from frightened.

        A door to her right opened and Mulciber's quiet voice called out an invitation.

        Hermione rose stiffly, her bones aching as she left the chair. She felt a slight twinge of magic in the air and she scowled back at the offending object. He wouldn't purposely enchant it to be inhospitable, would he?

        Mulciber stood in the doorway. He was wearing the same dark robes that he had been wearing during class. His sandy brown hair was beginning to streak lightly with grey. Hermione knew that some of the other students found him to be handsome. His lips pulled back into a smile that didn't fit his face. And Hermione had fight back the urge to simply turn tail and run.

        Maybe she was just a little bit frightened of him.

        Hermione followed after her professor as he led her into his office. It was a lifeless room, a sterile room. It was nothing like the offices in Hogwarts. There had been Dumbledore's with all the interesting magical antiquities. McGongall had filled her office with books. Flitwick's office always had something that was sparking or glowing or dripping. Even Snape's office had been interesting, filled as it was with preserved potion ingredients. But Hermione had never been in an office like this before.

        The room was almost perfectly square. The floor was bare. The walls were without windows. A large desk dominated one side of the room. A few sheets of paper lay upon it but there were no personal items, no pictures of family or books. The walls were a utilitarian white. The only thing of interest in the room was the wall facing the desk.

        Hermione took an unconscious step forward, her eyes widening at the sight. The wall was covered from top to bottom in large, eight by ten sized, pictures of wizards. It took her only a moment to realize that not a single portrait was smiling. Some of the subjects were crying, some were shouting out at her angrily, while others had turned away shamefacedly.

        "This is my trophy wall." Mulciber told her softly from only a breath away.

        Hermione gasped and stepped quickly away from him. How had he gotten so close to her?

        "These are all the wizards that I sent to Azkaban while I was an active-duty Auror." He smiled at the wall almost dreamily.

        Hermione took another step further away from him. Then one picture in particular caught her eyes. The central picture was of Sirius Black. It wasn't a Sirius that she had ever known though. He was young and handsome. His eyes didn't bear the scars of Azkaban. But they did carry heartbreak. Horrible, agonizing heartbreak clouded his face at the loss of his three best friends: one to murder, one to betrayal, and one to doubt. The young Sirius looked away from her as if ashamed. Hermione didn't think she had ever seen anything so heart wrenching before.

        "See someone that you recognize?"

        She had almost forgotten about her professor's presence. "N...no, of course not." Hermione replied; not as firmly as she would have liked.

        If he heard her slight stutter he ignored it. "This wall marks my triumph over the dark wizards. Over half of the guests on this wall have received the Dementor's Kiss." He said proudly, his cerulean eyes shining in admiration of himself. "The other half will spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban." He stepped past her towards the wall. "All but this one." He pointed at Sirius' picture.

        The portrait of Sirius looked up suddenly and smiled at Mulciber. The gleam in his eyes reminded Hermione of the time he taught her proper chess.

        "Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban almost six years ago." Mulciber's eyes narrowed and he ran a hand through slicked back hair. "Nothing would give me more pleasure than to kill that man myself."

        Hermione was watching him closely. She did not like this meeting at all.

        "I've decided to return to active duty at the end of this term. I've been gone for to long. With the threat He Who Must Not Be Named returning, my skills shall be needed." He looked at her now as it expecting a response.

        Was this what he wanted to discuss with her?

        "I don't see what this has to do with me, Sir." She told him while taking a cautious step backward.

        "Don't you?" He asked following her example as he stepped towards her. "Nothing could further my career like recapturing the fugitive Black. And I believe that you can help me with that."

        Hermione forced a shaky laugh. "I certainly don't see how."

        Mulciber turned from her to look back at Sirius' picture. "I've been doing research into his escape and subsequent pursuit. As it turns out his goal in escaping was to kill Harry Potter. But he managed to disappear right out from under the Minister of Magic himself. All that was left in the wake of his flight were three little children who staunchly defended the man's innocence." He stepped closer to her. "I don't have to name names, do I?"

        Hermione shook her head and shrank another step backwards.

        "Then again, another interesting little piece of information surfaced from three years ago. Black was severely wounded by a team of Aurors. Apparently they cornered Black but he escaped once again. They did manage to catch a girl though, a girl they believed to have aided in his escape, a girl named Hermione Granger." He continued to advance on her.

        "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Hermione snapped defiantly. "You must have known this for a while, why bring it up now?"

        He closed in on her and Hermione suddenly found her backside meeting a very solid desk.

        "Why indeed?" He asked his voice low, hushed.

        Hermione swallowed nervously. This was not the conversation that she had expected.

        "I bring it up now because last week Black was almost caught in Gloucester. But again it was as if Black had been forewarned of our coming. His hiding place was empty when the Aurors arrived. Empty except for a blank letter."

        "A letter?" Hermione questioned softly.

        A wolfish smile spread across his face as he leaned closer to her and placed a hand on the desk to either side of her.

        "The letter was addressed to 'Hermione'." He said gently. "Now isn't that interesting.

        Hermione struggled to understand, Sirius writing her a letter? But he never wrote her letters. "I'm afraid that Black must be writing to a different Hermione, Sir. I see no reason why he would be writing to me." It was almost painful to speak the bitter-tasting truth.

        He tutted softly, almost gently, "I would be thankful for any information that you have. I can be a very generous man, Hermione, and I'm sure that we can help each other in many ways."

        Her eyes widened at her given name and the insinuation. She seemed to become aware of the highly compromising position that she was in. "I have to go, Professor, I'm sorry that I can't be of help to you but there really is nothing that I can tell you about Sirius Black." Hermione tried to push past him but he grasped her arm hard and jerked her back.

        "I'm not done with you yet." He growled angrily before descending upon her in a painful kiss.

        Hermione struggled fruitlessly against him while a part of her mind refused to believe that one of her teachers was forcibly kissing her. One of his hands grasped a handful of her hair and he pulled it hard to the left, forcing her head down, allowing him access to her exposed neck which he suddenly assaulted with angry bites and not so soft kisses.

        He paused for a moment, his breath rushing unevenly against her skin. "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful hair?"

        The foreign compliment, while probably meant to help soothe her into compliance, had an adverse effect as the part of her mind that was denying the plausibility of this interaction suddenly realized that it was indeed happening.

        Hermione brought her knee up into his rather hard crotch and had the pleasure of watching his face go grey. He staggered back mouthing angrily at her.

        "Y...you b...bitch." He groaned.

        Hermione straightened her robes with trembling hands. "You stay the hell away from me, Professor." She hissed before rushing from the room.

~*~*~*~

        It was short. It was shorter than Hermione could ever remember it being outside of her baby album.

        "You look so beautiful, Hermione, love. I've been wanting you to get your hair cut short for years!" Her mum said in a pleased voice that sounded as if she might break down into tears of happiness at any moment.

        Hermione reached up to tuck her bobbed hair back behind her ear. The muggle in the shop had put something into her cinnamon colored locks after the slaughter that made her too short hair tighten into shiny spirals. Hermione did admit that the look was flattering, flirty even. But she had always loved the length of her hair.

        It had about broken her heart to sit in that chair and watch the long curls disappear. Hermione figured that it might have been one of the most traumatic experiences that she had ever gone through.

        But she could still feel his hand in her hair. She could still feel his breath on her neck as he complimented her. She could still feel the violated outrage.

        "Bastard." Hermione muttered into the silence of her bedroom.

        She had fled that office the day before in a state of warring emotions. Absolute shock was foremost in her mind followed quickly by panicked fear. But by the time she found Harry and Ron, who had been desperately looking for her, complete fury had won out.

        Hermione explained in very clipped words what Mulciber had to say about Sirius. But she refused to discuss anything else that had occurred while she was with him. But Harry and Ron weren't idiots. Hermione had no illusions as to whether or not they had figured out some of the more gory details. Hermione imagined that it hadn't been hard, what with her disheveled appearance and bruised lips.

        Hermione vowed not to think about Mulciber anymore. She wouldn't have to see him for a whole other day and after that it was only two weeks before her first year at Aylesbury came to an end. If she was lucky, Mulciber would be placed back on active duty and Hermione would never have to see her dueling professor again.

        She left her muggle clothes in a pile on the floor then slipped into a pair of butter yellow pajamas and climbed into her favorite chair in the entire world. It was an ancient brown, velour recliner that had once belonged to her grandfather. When he passed away a few years ago it had been the only thing that she wanted. No matter how grown-up she became Hermione could sit in this chair, close her eyes, and feel her grandfather as he held her on his knee, she could hear him reading one of her favorite fairy tales. It anything could settle her rattled nerves it was a little bit of time spent in this chair reading.

        Hermione settled herself comfortably in the recliner with her legs thrown casually over an armrest. In her lap rested a large Japanese to English dictionary and the book from Professor Bankotsu. But try as she might Hermione couldn't really focus on her schoolwork.

        Had Mulciber been telling her the truth? Had there really been a letter with her name on it? Sirius had never written her a letter. Even when they had been on good terms, when they had been friends, the only correspondence that he sent was to Harry.

        But Hermione couldn't dismiss the plausibility of it. How many Hermiones could Sirius know? Seriously? It wasn't as if her parents had graced her with a common name.

        Hermione closed her eyes and pictured Sirius as she had last seen him laying there on that bed in the hospital wing his eyes desperate as he tried to tell her something, as he called her disgusting. Hermione frowned, it wasn't as if that had been her first kiss or her last kiss since but whenever she thought about the subject of kissing it was the first one that sprang to mind. It had been angry, painful, and all encompassing.

        Hermione missed him. Hermione worried about him. How she wished that he really would right her a letter. Just a short one, just to let her know that he was all right, that he was taking care of himself. That he wasn't lonely.

        Hermione sighed; she knew that she would be up all night thinking about him. How was it that Sirius Black kept managing to insinuate himself in her life?

        A sudden draft whished through her room and teased the back of her bare neck. Hermione gasped and clapped both hands protectively over the sensitive skin that wasn't use to such abuse. "I'm never going to get use to this haircut!" She gasped with a shiver.