Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5204972.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, F/F
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Harry_Potter, Surprise_Pairings_-_Relationship
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Ginny_Weasley, Fleur_Delacour, Neville
      Longbottom, Nymphadora_Tonks, Luna_Lovegood, Daphne_Greengrass, Hannah
      Abbott, Original_Female_Character(s), Parvati_Patil
  Additional Tags:
      Friendship, Romance, Maturity_Upgrades
  Series:
      Part 2 of Moments_in_Love:_the_"Clean"_and_the_Steamy
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-13 Updated: 2017-09-25 Chapters: 20/? Words: 154769
****** Moments in Love: The Steamy version ******
by Gandalfs_Beard
Summary
     This collection will contain more explicit, lemony versions of some
     chapters from Moments in Love.
***** Chapter 19: The Worst of Times? *****
The days and weeks following Harry’s choosing by the Goblet of Fire as
Hogwarts’ second Champion were among the worst he had ever faced at Hogwarts.
It was almost like Second Year and being the “Heir of Slytherin” all over
again.
In some ways the new situation was even worse. It appeared that he had lost one
of the friends that he’d counted on the most since he had come to Hogwarts -
the first friend that he had ever had.
Ron had chosen to disbelieve him in a fit of jealous rage. Harry knew there was
no point trying to argue with Ron; he had tried to reason with Ron last night,
but their friendship appeared to be damaged beyond repair. Ron had made it
absolutely clear what he really thought of Harry.
Harry was still shocked that Ron had taken Malfoy’s taunts seriously and used
them against him. He was miserable and angry about it in fact. Harry furiously
decided that he was glad that he didn’t have to put up with Ron’s rubbish
anymore. If Ron was going to be a stupid prat about things, fine!
But in some ways, things were much better than Second Year. At least Harry had
the support of the few other friends who stood with him. There was still
Neville. Ginny and the Twins, and Parvati and Lavender all seemed to believe
him too. And most importantly, Harry had the support of his best friend - his
girlfriend - Hermione. And that made all the difference in the world.
                                     ~o0o~
When Harry woke early on Sunday morning after the choosing, stiff, sore, and
slightly chilled, he was surprised to find himself still on the cobbled terrace
at the top of the Astronomy Tower. He supposed he would have been a lot colder
if it weren’t for the fact that he and Hermione were still huddled together
under their robes, arms still wrapped around one another.
Harry felt a surge of warmth as he held Hermione a bit tighter and kissed her
bushy head. Hermione stirred, blinking as the fuchsia rays of dawn peeked from
behind the mountains. Eyes met, and they both blushed as deeply as the sky,
their breath clouding in the frigid air.
“Er...” Harry began awkwardly, his breath caught when he remembered where his
hands had roamed before he had stopped them from going too far. Hermione
giggled shyly, remembering where her own hands had been, and pressed her lips
to his, wishing that Harry had gone a bit further.
“Good Morning Harry!” she said when their lips separated. “Shall we get some
breakfast then?”
“Er... Yeah!” Harry croaked, letting out a sigh of relief as he gave Hermione a
lopsided grin.
Groaning from the aches of sleeping on cold cobblestone, Harry and Hermione got
up and returned to Gryffindor Tower to shower and put on clean clothes before
heading to the Great Hall. When Harry spotted Ron’s empty bed, he was glad that
Ron hadn’t slept-in as he usually did on Sunday mornings. Harry felt a surge of
bitterness as he dressed, realising that he had no desire to see Ron in the
Great Hall either - or anyone else for that matter - knowing that all eyes
would be on him, most of them unfriendly.
“Wait here!” said Hermione knowingly when they reached the entrance of the
Hall. Moments later she returned with a stack of toast and a pile of bacon
wrapped in a napkin. “Shall we go for a walk then?”
“Yeah... Thanks Hermione,” said Harry gratefully. “I’ve still got a few knots
and kinks to work out anyway.”
“Me too,” Hermione admitted, biting her lip and blushing again as they exited
the castle.
“Sorry about that Hermione! After you made me feel a bit better, I... er... I
meant to go back when I thought Ron would be asleep.”
“No, it’s alright Harry! I dozed off too...”
When they reached the birches at the edge of the Black Lake, the pair kept
moving, munching toast and bacon as they eyed the Durmstrang ship gently
rocking in the chilly breeze. It was peaceful by the lake; the ripples on the
surface of the water glimmered in the rays of morning sunlight poking through
the gaps in the clouds as the ducks played by the shore.
Harry tensed up when he heard footsteps rustling behind them, and turned around
uncertainly.
“It’s okay - it’s just me,” said Luna, her big silvery-grey eyes full of
concern. “I saw Hermione come into the Hall and leave again. I thought she
might be getting you breakfast... I’m sorry about what happened Harry!”
“You believe me then - that I didn’t enter?” Harry peered at Luna hopefully as
Hermione smiled.
“Of course I do Harry!” Luna said earnestly, “I saw how scared you looked when
your name came out of the Goblet. And I know you’re not a cheater.”
“Thanks Luna!” Harry relaxed a bit and sighed. “You’re probably the only one
outside of Gryffindor that doesn’t hate me right now - and even a few of them
do...”
“I know! I saw your friend Ron,” said Luna sympathetically. “He looks really
jealous,” she continued bluntly, “It’s not just me outside of Gryffindor
though. Parvati told Padma what happened, and she believes you too. But I think
Cho’s rather gone off you - I saw her chatting up Cedric at breakfast!”
Hermione couldn’t help feeling a surge of satisfaction at that last bit of
information, followed immediately by a flush of guilt; Harry needed all the
support he could get. For his part, Harry felt quite relieved at the news, as
Hermione always seemed to get a bit cross whenever Cho batted her eyelashes at
him. Harry supposed he’d even be rather happy for Cedric Diggory if Diggory
wasn’t being such a bloody git at the moment.
Luna walked with Harry and Hermione by the lakeshore while they finished their
toast and bacon. Feeling full and a bit more cheered, Harry tore up his last
piece of toast and scattered it for the happy ducks.
Afterwards, Harry took Hermione’s advice and called Sirius on his mirror. Harry
told him about everything: about his name coming out of the Goblet, about
finding another horcrux, - even about Ron not believing him. Sirius seemed
troubled when Harry brought up his and Hermione’s suspicions that someone in
the Ministry might be behind things - someone connected to Malfoy perhaps.
Sirius shared a dark look with Lupin before turning back to Harry.
“Unfortunately, that seems quite likely!” Sirius muttered. “I spoke briefly
with Moody and Dumbledore last night about the situation, and they both seem to
be leaning to the same conclusion. I’m glad Moody’s talked Dumbledore into
letting him train you up a bit.”
“Yeah, that part is brilliant!” said Harry excitedly. “He’s going to train
Hermione too - we just need to find somewhere in Hogwarts to practice where we
can’t be spied on.”
“Hmm... indeed!” Sirius responded. “Remus and I will give that some thought
too. We both know Hogwarts like the backs of our hands...”
“Though, that room of hidden things is certainly a new one on us,” added Lupin
as he peered over Sirius’s shoulder with his eyebrows raised. “Even Dumbledore
seems quite surprised.”
“I was also wondering...” Sirius looked distracted by a stray thought for a
moment, not finishing his sentence. “Right... well, anyway, if we come up with
something I’ll contact Mad Eye straight away. Don’t hesitate to call either of
us again if you want to chat about anything Harry!”
Following the mirror-call, Harry and Hermione just tried to stay out of
everybody’s way, but it proved nearly as hard to avoid everyone as it had the
night before. Hermione was stalwart and brought Harry platefuls of lunch and
dinner as well, but finding places to hang out where nobody else could glare
and make rude comments about him grew more difficult throughout the day.
“You’re going to have to face everyone sooner or later,” Hermione sighed as
they sat in the boathouse together eating dinner.
“Yeah... I know!” Harry grumbled after swallowing a piece of steak and kidney
pie. “I think I could deal with it a bit better if I didn’t have to share a
dorm with a prat who thinks I’m as bad as Malfoy.”
“Are you serious? Ron actually said that?” Hermione looked shocked.
“More or less!” Harry muttered darkly. “Said he reckoned Malfoy was right about
me and called me a pampered prince! And he as much as called me a liar!”
“Ron thinks you knew all about the tournament from the start and didn’t tell
him, doesn’t he?” said Hermione, remembering Ron’s attitude after the incident
with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express.
Harry nodded glumly and stabbed viciously at another piece of pie with his
fork, wishing he had something to wash it down with. He was extremely grateful
that Hermione had brought him dinner, but she only had two hands. A cracking
sound echoed in the boathouse; Harry nearly choked on the piece of pie and
Hermione shrieked.
“D...Dobby?” gasped Harry, his eyes nearly popping out of his head when he
spotted the house-elf, who had appeared out of thin air, holding two bottles in
his little hands and wearing an extremely odd assortment of clothes. “Is that
really you?”
“It is Dobby sir, it is!” squeaked the ecstatic house-elf.
“Wh...what are you doing here? ...in the boathouse, I mean! Hermione and I have
been meaning to look for you, but we weren’t really sure where to start.”
“Dobby is looking after Harry Potter sir - but Dobby is staying out of sight
like a good house-elf now that Dobby is being paid properly by the Headmaster
sir... Then Dobby sees Harry Potter is not sleeping in his bed last night, and
Winky tells Dobby that Harry Potter is not showing up for meals...”
“But then Dobby sees Harry Potter’s Miss Granger is taking two plates of food
at dinner, and Dobby follows. Dobby is bringing Harry Potter and his Hermione
drinks sir. Harry Potter and his girlfriend is being thirsty... it is not good
being dehydrated sir!”
Despite himself, Harry burst out laughing as Dobby passed him and Hermione a
bottle each of butterbeer.
“Thanks Dobby!” Harry chortled. “That was perfect timing, I was dying of
thirst!”
“Is Winky here too then, Dobby?” asked Hermione. “Is she alright?”
Dobby’s face fell.
“Winky is being a very sad house-elf, miss. Winky is not liking freedom - she
is not wanting to be paid - though Headmaster offers - and is not liking her
clothes. Other house-elfs is being ashamed of Dobby and Winky miss - they is
thinking that we is bad house-elfs. Winky is drinking too much and pining away
for her master - Winky is believing that she is a disgraced house-elf.”
“That’s dreadful! Poor Winky,” said Hermione.
“Isn’t there anything we can do to help Winky?” asked Harry.
“No sir! Winky is not being happy without her master. There is nothing to be
doing that is helping Winky.”
Harry shared a dejected look with Hermione.
“It’s alright Harry,” said Hermione resignedly. “I know we’ll have to think of
some other way to help house-elves. Anyway, it’s more important that we focus
on getting you safely through the tournament right now.”
“Yeah... I suppose so!” Harry sighed and turned back to Dobby. “Thanks for the
drinks Dobby. I’m glad you came to see me. You can visit me or Hermione any
time you like - alright? We don’t care about that house-elves staying out of
sight rubbish. You’re our friend... and besides, you’re a Free Elf! ”
“Thank you Harry Potter sir!” Dobby squealed happily. “And if Harry Potter or
Hermione Granger is needing Dobby, all you has to do is call Dobby’s name sir!
Is there anything else that Harry Potter or Miss Granger is needing now?”
A sudden thought struck Harry and Hermione at the same time and they glanced at
each other.
“Er... I don’t suppose you know a good place at Hogwarts to train for the
Triwizard tournament where the Ministry’s security people can’t spy on us do
you?” Harry asked Dobby hopefully.
“But Harry Potter already knows sir!” Dobby replied, his round eyes growing
bigger with surprise. “Every house-elf hears that Harry Potter is finding the
Room of Requirement last night! We calls it the Come and Go Room sir...”
                                     ~o0o~
Buoyed by Dobby’s explanation of the Room of Requirement’s workings - and a
nice cuddle with Hermione in the boathouse following dinner - Harry braced
himself for the return to his dormitory. Sure enough, the moment Harry walked
into the room, Ron scowled at him and violently yanked his crimson velvet
hangings closed around his bed.
“I tried to tell him again that you didn’t enter,” Neville said, giving Harry a
sympathetic look. Harry nodded gratefully.
Seamus and Dean both avoided Harry’s gaze. Harry furiously pulled his own bed-
curtains closed, knowing that Ron had been filling their heads with rubbish. He
tried to force his anxiety about the tournament and his anger at Ron out of his
mind with the memory of the last kiss that he’d shared with Hermione in the
boathouse. Fortunately that seemed to work and Harry was soon asleep.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry knew better than to expect things to improve when classes resumed on
Monday, but he had by and large resigned himself to it. The Hufflepuffs he
understood being upset with him, as Cedric was their Champion, and the
Slytherins didn’t need an excuse to hate Harry.
He felt a bit better knowing that at least two Ravenclaws were on his side.
Harry glanced at their table during breakfast and noticed Fleur talking to
Padma and Luna. Fleur caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile. Harry
turned a bit pink and quickly refocused his attention on his scrambled eggs and
bangers, not wanting to give Hermione a reason to be cross.
Harry braced himself for Herbology with the Hufflepuffs that morning. It was
bad enough that he had to face the sour expressions of Ernie Macmillan and
Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Ron was repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray
as him and Hermione as well.
Ron sniggered along with Ernie and Justin’s chortles when Harry’s Bouncing Bulb
slipped from his grasp and whacked him on the forehead. Hermione shot Ron a
look of outrage and he snorted at her with a disdainful smirk, muttering
something about “Famous Potter’s girlfriend” under his breath.
Ron’s nasty smirk turned into a scowl when Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott took a
break from repotting their bulbs with Neville, and sharply elbowed their way
past Ernie and Justin, ostensibly on their way to get more potting soil.
“Neville told us what happened Harry!” Susan said with a pointed look at the
two Hufflepuff boys who were both groaning and holding their ribs.
“And we believe you didn’t do it on purpose Harry,” Hannah added, glowering at
Justin and Ernie. “It’s not like these two thickheads have ever been right
about you before!”
“Good luck Harry!” said Susan.
“Er... th...thanks!” Harry stammered in astonishment as Hermione beamed
gratefully at Susan and Hannah. Ron’s ears turned crimson as he grabbed his pot
and went to look for another tray to work at.
Harry was so pleased at having found unexpected support in the House of
Hufflepuff, that he almost didn’t even care that his and Hermione’s next class
was Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. Ron sauntered off with
Seamus and Dean, making a point of ignoring Harry, staying as far away from him
and Hermione as possible - which Harry found to be a great improvement over his
close proximity during Herbology.
Draco Malfoy swaggered up to the clearing at the edge of the woods near
Hagrid’s hut with his goon-squad, his typical sneer plastered firmly on his
pasty features.
“Gather round lads, it’s the Famous Champion,” Malfoy pontificated to his
little entourage. “Better get your autographs now before he snuffs it in the
First Task. I’m betting he doesn’t last 10 minutes before he’s killed... What
do you reckon Potter?” he concluded. Crabbe and Goyle chortled sycophantically.
“I think you’d better hope the First Task is worse than the Basilisk I killed
in Second Year Malfoy...” Harry retorted with an air of nonchalance that he
didn’t really feel. “You remember it don’t you? The one your daddy set loose on
the school?”
“You shouldn’t tell lies, Potter!” spat Malfoy, flushing angrily as the
students who were close enough to hear the exchange gasped at Harry’s response.
Harry felt a surge of satisfaction at having siphoned off some of his own fury
into Malfoy. But he didn’t need to see the anxious look on Hermione’s face to
know that he’d been a bit reckless with his words; he couldn’t prove that
Lucius Malfoy had been behind it after all. Harry felt a bit guilty for
upsetting Hermione, but he was damned if he was going to let a cowardly little
creep with homicidal tendencies like Malfoy get one up on him. At least he’d
shut Malfoy up.
“Sorry Hermione,” Harry said quietly as Malfoy and his gang stalked away. “I
suppose I...”
“It’s alright Harry,” Hermione interjected with a sad smile as she took his
hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Under the circumstances, it’s too much
to expect you to bottle up all of your feelings with everything you’ve had to
put up with.”
That evening after classes, Professor Moody caught up with Harry and Hermione
as they left Gryffindor Tower and made their way to dinner. Moody’s eye spun
around wildly, making sure that nobody else was in earshot.
“Ah, there you are, you two. Good! I’ve got workout schedules and lessons
planned out,” Moody growled. “You’ll both need lots of practice to get you into
fighting shape.”
“And we’ve found a place where we can take the lessons and practice the
spells,” Harry began excitedly while Hermione looked over the schedules. “Dobby
the house-elf told us how that secret room we found works. It’s not just a
place for hiding things. It’s magic - it can be whatever sort of room we want
it to be... it’s perfect.”
Hermione’s face fell when she saw that they’d have to spend at least an hour
every day on physical exercises, as well as four training sessions a week -
each an hour and a half long, including hand to hand combat lessons. That meant
less time for the library.
“I thought this was all going to be about learning spells,” she remarked sadly.
Moody grunted.
“Toughening up your body and developing speed and stamina is just as important
in a fight Granger. The wizard who lasts longer and dodges faster is the one
who lives... And sometimes there’s just no substitution for well placed kick or
punch. There’s nothin’ better than muggle fighting techniques for throwing
wizards off their game.”
Hermione's features brightened when she realised how sensible Moody’s plan was.
“Anyway, there’s still going to be plenty of spellwork Granger,” continued the
grizzled ex-Auror, “You’ll both need to get some advanced charms books and bone
up on stunning and shielding spells, and a bit more as I add ‘em in...”
“Oh!” said Hermione, her eyes widening. “We’ve been reading up on those since
school-term began.... and some of the other spells like Bombarda and Confringo.
Harry and I were planning on teaching ourselves once we’d found a good place to
practice them anyway.”
“Excellent! I knew you two were a couple o’ eager beavers!” said Moody, nodding
with approval. “We’ll be able to start on practical techniques that much
quicker then. Meet me in my office after classes tomorrow - you can show me the
magical room then...”
“And just one more thing Potter... I spoke to Sirius, and Dumbledore is on
board. You’ll be movin’ into your new quarters after dinner tonight...”
“Wait, what? ” Harry gasped; Hermione’s jaw dropped incredulously. “What do you
mean, new quarters? ”
“I mean Private Chambers Potter!” Moody replied with an ugly grin, his
electric-blue eye glancing at Hermione before returning to Harry.
“But why? ” Harry frowned at Moody in perplex, his skyrocketing anxiety warning
him that certain others might see this as more proof that the Famous Harry
Potter always got preferential treatment.
“It’s for your safety Potter!” said Moody gruffly. “From what Sirius tells me,
gettin’ into Gryffindor Tower isn’t too hard if you’ve got the passcodes. And
nearly every kid in that Tower is a potential security breach as far as I’m
concerned... except for maybe one I could mention!” Moody’s eyeball darted
towards Hermione briefly again, then refocused its piercing gaze on Harry.
“H...Harry, m...maybe Professor Moody is right...” Hermione nervously
stammered, seeing the look on Harry’s face.
“But I don’t want to be treated differently,” Harry muttered angrily through
gritted teeth. “People already think I get special treatment as it is...”
“Sorry Potter!” Moody snapped. “But that’s part o’ the price of bein’ a highly
valued Target! You gotta learn to live with it! It was hard enough convincin’
Dumbledore and the deal’s done! I’ll show you to your private chambers after
dinner... and the less people you allow to access it, the better! Only the most
trustworthy! But don’t worry - it’s near enough to Gryffindor Tower for your
closest friends to find you...”
                                     ~o0o~
Neville glanced at Harry, his face pink with embarrassment as he helped Harry
lug his trunk down the stairs from the Gryffindor Fourth Year dorm, through the
portrait-hole, and down the passage towards the spare teacher’s quarters which
had been assigned to Harry.
“I dunno Harry,” Neville moaned after Harry told him why he was moving. “I
mean... thanks for trusting me, but I’m the one that nearly got you killed last
year when everyone thought your godfather was really a mass-murderer!”
Harry thought of the foul looks that Ron had given him just now as he’d packed
his trunk, which seemed to verify the notion that the move would only confirm
Ron’s worst suspicions about Harry. And then Harry considered all of the ugly
looks and remarks that Ron had been giving him ever since his name had come out
of the Goblet of Fire. Harry angrily decided that he wasn’t going to miss those
at all.
Dean and Seamus had still been relatively civil towards Harry, but he could
sense a certain level of ambivalence in them - torn between being pleased that
a Gryffindor was one of the Champions and their loyalty to Ron.
“I know,” Harry reluctantly agreed. “But you didn’t do it on purpose Neville.
And that’s not the sort of mistake you’d make twice. And besides, you’re a good
friend - you’re the only guy in our year who really believes in me...”
Neville’s smile was a bit teary when he said goodbye and left Harry to finish
settling in by himself as curfew drew nearer. Harry sighed and looked around
his new surroundings. The private chambers were about the size of an average
flat. It had a sitting room with a settee near the fire already crackling in
the hearth, a small kitchen with a dining table in the middle of it, a little
study, a single large bedroom with its own fireplace, and a gleaming spotless
bathroom with a large marble tub and gold spigots.
Harry’s trepidation at having his own quarters began to ebb as a peaceful sort
of feeling came over him while he cleaned his teeth and put on his pyjamas. He
crawled into the four-poster bed and pulled up the covers. When his head hit
his pillow, Harry suddenly realised that there was only one thing missing.
A smile crept to Harry’s lips and the soreness of his scar receded as the
potential benefits of having his own private rooms finally began to sink in.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement after asking it for a place to
learn how to fight in. Moody’s roaming eye took in everything approvingly.
The room reminded Harry a bit of the dojos and kwoons in the karate and kung fu
films he’d seen when Sirius and Lupin had taken him and Hermione to a martial
arts film festival during the summer. It even had wooden dummies, but they were
far more detailed and had proper movable limbs.
One wall was mirrored, another lined with all sorts of muggle weapons; Harry
supposed the room had just copied what he had seen in the martial arts films.
Another wall was lined with shelves full of books - which Hermione was already
eagerly perusing - and the centre of the floor was covered with a thickly
padded mat.
“Bloody brilliant Potter!” exclaimed Professor Moody. “I can’t say that I have
the right skill set to teach you how to use most of those weapons, but I could
certainly train you with some of those blades at some point. Though you
shouldn’t really need ‘em most of the time with the right spells at your
fingertips - mostly just every now and then to throw off a wizard who’s
expectin’ a spell when you’re in close quarters.”
“Right then, you two - fall in!” Mad Eye barked. Harry and Hermione nervously
lined up at attention and Moody began.
“Now, this’ll be a fair bit different from Defence Against the Dark Arts - the
focus of the class here at Hogwarts is mostly defending yourself from dark
magical creatures with only a very cursory look at the spells necessary for
defending against dark wizards’ curses. We’re not allowed to teach you how to
actually fight back good and proper.”
Moody muttered something about the “bloody school board” under his breath, then
continued.
“In these sessions I’ll be teachin’ you both how to duel properly, and how to
use combat techniques when you’re in a fight for your lives with multiple
opponents - which means you’ll be learning how to do some dangerous curses
yourselves. But keep payin’ attention in class, because you’ll need to know the
spells to fight magical creatures for the tournament, Potter.”
“A lot o’ these lessons will be about strategy and tactics - I’ll be showing
you how and when to use those spells to their greatest effect in actual
practice - and I’ll also be teachin’ you some more advanced and alternative
spells which the seventeen year old Champions will already know...”
Mad Eye lectured for half an hour before setting Harry and Hermione to running
around the gym and performing calisthenics for another hour. He worked them
like a drill sergeant and they miserably collapsed in a sweaty heap when they
were finished.
“Right! I suppose that’s enough for now then,” Moody chuckled. “I want you both
to be practicin’ the calisthenics on your own for an hour after classes every
day. I’ll start teaching you spells and combat techniques when we meet again on
Thursday, same time, and we’ll take things from there!”
Mad Eye stomped out of the Room of Requirement and left the aching young
wizards moaning on the floor.
“Blimey, that was harder than I thought it would be,” Harry muttered, wiping
his dripping face on his shirt.
“I’ll say,” groaned Hermione as she rolled onto her front and began to shakily
push herself up. “Everything hurts...”
“Hang on then...” said Harry as he gently brushed aside the saturated ringlets
plastered to Hermione’s wet cheeks with the back of his fingers. She bit her
lip and nodded.
Hermione’s pulse began to race again as Harry started to knead her shoulders.
She flattened herself against the cushy mat once more and let out a little sigh
of relief as his fingers pressed into the sore spots of her neck, shoulders,
and upper back.
“Thank you Harry,” she murmured, feeling some of the tenseness in her muscles
melting away. Harry dug his knuckle into a particularly tight knot on
Hermione’s shoulder blade and she let out a small moan.
“Are you alright Hermione?” Harry paused, afraid that he’d hurt her.
“Yes!” Hermione gasped. “That feels lovely - perfect... please, don’t stop!”
Harry grinned and continued the massage, his hands reaching the small of her
back, pleased to feel Hermione relaxing under his ministrations.
“Ooooh...” Hermione moaned again and trembled as a shiver of elation flooded
her senses. “That’s the spot! Where did you learn how to do that Harry?”
“Er... I dunno really. I just know it feels good when I press the bits that I
can reach on myself after quidditch.”
“Maybe... I could return the favour?”
“Not enough time really,” said Harry. “It’s almost time for dinner and we
really should clean up and change first.”
Hermione’s breath quickened, resolve firming as Harry’s touch sent another
shudder of delight through her.
“What if... if Dobby brought us dinner in your chambers?” she asked hopefully.
“I haven’t even seen them yet anyway!”
Harry swallowed nervously, suddenly not sure if he should say yes even though
he wanted to, uncertain where this was leading. But the fact that Hermione had
suggested asking Dobby to bring them dinner seemed significant somehow.
Hermione sat up and peered at him expectantly.
“Yeah... alright Hermione!” said Harry in a slightly hoarse voice, leaning in
to kiss her. “I... I’d really like that!”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry sighed when he looked at the clock and saw the time. It was nearly curfew
and Hermione would have to go back to Gryffindor Tower. The massage that
Hermione had given him had felt great, and he wished that he could just cuddle
her and fall asleep in her arms. It was a lot cozier in his new bed by a warm
fire than on the cold cobbled terrace at the top of the Astronomy Tower in
early November.
Hermione beamed radiantly and pulled her wind-up alarm clock out of her book-
bag, setting it on Harry’s bedside table. Harry looked at her in bewilderment
and anxiety. A bushy ginger tail twitched, catching Harry’s eye; Crookshanks
appeared to be grinning at Harry too.
“Wait... are you sure about this Hermione? I don’t want you to get into
trouble. What if you’re missed and a Gryffindor prefect catches you? Or one of
the Triwizard security officials? We were just lucky not to get caught the
night we fell asleep at the Astronomy Tower.”
“I’m absolutely certain Harry!” said Hermione firmly with a golden gleam in her
eyes. “I’ve worked it all out. That’s really why I suggested we change into our
nightclothes, not just for comfort’s sake...”
“I spoke to Lavender and Parvati when I went back for my things, and they’ll
cover for me - and the other girls in my dorm don’t really care one way or
another. All I need - if you’ll let me - is to borrow your invisibility cloak
when I leave early in the mornings.”
“Er... Wow!... Brilliant Hermione! You really have worked it all out!” Harry
grinned back at Hermione, his trepidation evaporating. “Yeah... of course you
can use the invisibility cloak!”
Feeling overcome with giddiness, Harry swept Hermione into a steamy kiss, his
fingers tangled in her mess of golden curls. Hermione wriggled joyfully as she
coiled her arms around Harry. She pressed herself against him, lit up with the
flames of desire. Caresses began to travel, and Harry’s hands found themselves
wrapped around Hermione’s hips.
After a moment of eternity, their lips wetly separated and both of them gasped
for air, wanting more.
The large orange ball of fur jumped off the bed and slipped out of the room to
give his humans some privacy. Crookshanks made his way to the heavy oak door
guarding the entrance to Harry’s chambers and was pleased to see a cat-flap
magically appear, eager for his nightly prowl with Hedwig.
Chest heaving, Harry felt a pressing need and was suddenly aware that this time
there was no recourse, no outlet unless he or Hermione took the settee in the
living room. Harry swallowed anxiously, realising that Hermione was straddling
his own waist, with nothing between her inner thighs and his torso except his
pyjamas as her nightie had rucked up above her knees. Her scent was
intoxicating; her expression of arousal inflaming him.
And he was all too aware that only a flimsy slip of fabric covered the
dampening region between Hermione’s thighs as the moistness began to soak
through his pyjama top, her minty aroma mingled with a hint of musk. The sight
of Hermione’s stiffening nipples poking through the fabric of her nightie
wasn’t helping matters.
“Er... Hermione... maybe I should... er... you know... get up...”
“You... you don’t have to Harry,” Hermione murmured, her arousal finally
overcoming her own nervousness. “Couldn’t we... just sort of enjoy ourselves
together. We don’t have to... you know... go all the way... I’m not sure I’m
ready for that just yet, but... but...”
“You mean...” Harry gulped again as Hermione’s meaning became all too clear.
She nodded and smiled shyly, eyelashes fluttering.
“We don’t even have to take everything off. We could just sort of... touch each
other?” Hermione squeaked hopefully.
“Er... alright then!” Harry gulped a third time, his eyes widening. A thrill
shot through him with a surge of excitement and he felt himself growing
stiffer. Hermione climbed off Harry’s waist and nestled beside him, tentatively
reaching for the tent in his pyjama bottoms, gingerly clasping his erection and
gently tugging at it.
Harry’s own fingers trembled as they slipped under Hermione’s nightie and slid
across the satiny bare skin of her lower abdomen towards her knickers. She took
Harry’s other hand in her own, and placed it on one of her breasts, giving him
a kiss. Harry’s breath quickened as he gently squeezed the firm little globe
through Hermione’s nightie and tenderly tweaked the nipple, his other fingers
pressing the soaked fabric of her knickers into the cleft between her thighs.
Harry probed Hermione’s humid slit, eventually finding a fleshy little button
near the top of her wet valley. Hermione let out a little gasp, electrifying
tingles of pleasure rippling through her body. Knowing he’d found the sweet
spot, Harry jiggled his thumb against the little pearl in little circles as two
of his fingers continued rubbing Hermione’s moist fold.
The thin wet fabric of her knickers was so sheer, Harry might as well have been
touching her bare flesh. Hermione moaned as the intoxicating fervor began to
sweep her away.
Through the fog of her own ardour, Hermione slipped her hand into Harry’s thick
flannel pyjama bottoms to stroke his hard shaft properly. Harry gasped when he
felt Hermione’s warm palm directly against the bare skin of his stiffness. His
chest rose and fell in short ragged breaths as he began to peak.
A tremor of ecstasy took Harry and Hermione both, and they lost themselves to
the churning storm of passion. Hermione squealed Harry’s name and quivered,
trapping his hand between her thighs, bathing it in her dewy nectar. Harry
groaned and erupted, his stickiness spilling over Hermione’s fingers.
In that moment, Harry didn’t care that he was facing some of his worst of times
at Hogwarts since Second Year. Harry’s last thought before he faded into
oblivion was that Hermione loved him... and that was all that mattered.
***** Chapter 22: Yuletide Under the Stars *****
Hermione was furious. This should have been a moment to celebrate. Not only had
Harry survived, but beyond all expectations, he was the clear winner of the
First Task. But Harry was as miserable as could be. As usual, Ron had spoiled
everything - this time with an inappropriately timed, much too late, truly
pathetic attempt at an apology.
Ron had been absolutely horrible to Harry for nearly a whole month. And really,
looking back, there had been warning signs ever since the World Cup. Harry
hadn’t really seemed to notice until after the incident with Malfoy on the
Hogwarts Express, but Hermione had seen Ron’s many jealous looks at Harry
during the Quidditch Final - especially when Harry and Hermione had been
greeting Fudge and all of the VIP’s.
And Hermione had felt a bit uncomfortable herself with the way Ron had looked
at her at the World Cup, as if recognising that she was a girl for the first
time. But Hermione hadn’t wanted to spoil things for Harry and kept it all to
herself. And it had been a real strain for Hermione this term, dealing with all
of Ron’s constant needling, his little digs at her, not to mention his utter
insensitivity to the feelings of others.
But really, the straw that broke the camel’s back for Hermione had been Ron
accusing Harry of being like Malfoy and lying, and not standing by Harry when
he had needed his friends the most.
As they made their way back to Harry’s private chambers in silence, Hermione
tried her best to keep her fury in check for Harry’s sake. The fire was going
strong in the hearth by the settee in Harry’s sitting room.
Hermione made them both some cocoa in the little kitchen and found Harry lying
dejectedly on the small sofa. Harry began to get up to make room for her.
“It’s alright Harry,” she said, sitting at the very end. “Lie back down - like
this... There, that’s better...” Hermione gently stroked Harry’s messy black
hair as he nestled his head on her lap, smiling sadly at him.
She could see how much Ron still meant to Harry - how much Harry missed him -
how much it had hurt to let Ron go like that. Hermione hoped that one day Ron
would grow up enough for Harry to be able to patch things up with him, but for
the moment, she knew that Harry had done the right thing. Harry had enough to
be getting on with. It was going to be hard enough getting through this
tournament without having to deal with jealous fair-weather friends.
Harry closed his eyes as Hermione cuddled him, and gradually drifted off to
sleep.
                                     ~o0o~
Ron sighed miserably as he watched Harry and Hermione walking away from him. He
had half expected this outcome, but he had hoped for better.
After seeing the dragons, it had finally occurred to Ron that if Harry hadn’t
entered himself, someone might be trying to do Harry in. Under the
circumstances, Ron couldn’t really blame Harry for not easily forgiving him.
Bloody hell - Ron had even compared Harry to that scumbag Malfoy! Ron kicked
himself for being such an idiot, wishing that he’d been able to make Harry
understand that sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.
Ron caught Ginny’s glowering eye when she huffed at him as she exited the
stands with Dean. Fred snorted at Ron and shook his head, muttering “pathetic”
angrily under his breath as he strode away. Ron was reasonably certain that
Fred was mostly cross with him because there wasn’t much point in throwing a
party in the Gryffindor common room without Harry.
George halted for a moment and raised his eyebrows at Ron, sighing, before
giving him a little shrug and following after his twin. If Ron didn’t know
better, he’d almost think that George was being sympathetic. Neville couldn’t
look Ron in the eye when he walked past with Luna, whose expression was almost
pitying.
Someone patted Ron on the shoulder. He looked around to see who it was.
“Ah... Things’ll work out eventually Ron,” said Seamus consolingly. “Leave it
alone for now... Come on mate - I’ll let ye beat me at a game of wizard chess.”
“Yeah... alright then!” Ron sighed. He gave Seamus a little half-smile, glad to
at least have the company of someone who always seemed to understand him
without getting all judgmental.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry felt much better after a nap. He heard voices, and as he woke up Harry
realised that there was a cushion under his head instead of Hermione’s lap. He
sat up, realising that he must have slept for several hours when he spied
Hermione having tea with Parvati.
“Oh, good, you’re awake Harry!” Hermione smiled at Harry and poured him a
steaming cup of tea. “Parvati was bringing back your Firebolt. I hope you don’t
mind me letting her in.”
“Of course not,” said Harry, smiling back. “You’re always welcome Parvati.
Where’s Lavender?” he asked before taking a sip from his teacup.
“Snogging Viktor Krum somewhere,” Parvati giggled.
Harry grinned; he glanced at Hermione, thinking that she looked rather pleased
with herself. Hermione blushed when she noticed Harry’s perceptive expression.
“Er... so what did happen with Viktor and the others anyway?” Harry asked. “Is
everyone alright?” He peered at Hermione anxiously.
“Everyone is fine Harry?” said Hermione quickly to put his mind at ease.
“Nobody got badly hurt... Viktor just got some scrapes and bruises when he
tried to escape after he used the Conjunctivitis Curse on the dragon. That’s
why his dragon went berserk though - just like Professor Moody said it would -
and crushed some of its own eggs.”
“Cedric got burned a bit though when he transfigured a rock into a dog,”
Hermione continued. “The dragon was distracted for a moment, but then it went
after him. He only just managed to snatch his egg before the dragon chased him
around the arena - Cedric had to hide behind some boulders until the dragon
keepers subdued the dragon.... Pomfrey fixed him up though.”
“And that French girl, Fleur, she almost got burned when she put her dragon in
a sort of trance,” Parvati added. “But she managed to put the fire out quickly
with water from her wand. She and Krum both tied for second place. Anyway
Harry... You were amazing! That was unbelievable... How did you do that?”
Harry glanced at Hermione questioningly, assuming that she would have already
told Parvati.
“I thought you should be the one to tell Parvati when you woke up,” Hermione
beamed at her boyfriend with pride.
“Oh... er... alright then!” Harry smiled wryly at his girlfriend before
addressing Parvati. “I used a rune set which spelled out ‘Dragon Friend’...
Mind you, I didn’t know for certain that it would work - I don’t think it would
have if I’d had my wand in my hand.”
“That’s why I took my cloak and shirt off and showed that I was totally
unarmed,” Harry continued. “Then I bowed to show respect, like Hagrid taught us
with hippogriffs last year. Dragons are a lot like people - many breeds are
really smart - and they just want to be respected.”
Parvati frowned in puzzlement. “But why don’t all dragon handlers do that
then?”
“Because most dragon keepers are like most other wizards,” Hermione began in
her ‘schoolteacher’ voice, but there was also an edge of bitterness in her
tone. “They see them as inferior creatures and they don’t actually treat
dragons with the kindness or respect deserved by all sentient beings. They
treat dragons as animals to be locked up in zoos, or as beasts of burden, or as
enemies to be subdued...”
“Harry’s absolutely right,” Hermione went on, “The runes wouldn’t have worked
by themselves. They only told the dragon that Harry was a friend. If Harry
hadn’t acted like a friend - if he’d just tried to steal the egg - the dragon
would have still attacked him.”
Parvati gasped in horror as the full implication of what Harry had told her
sank in.
“Wait, you mean that Harry was totally unprotected then?” Parvati squeaked. “He
put down his wand too?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I did use a fire protection rune-set as well... just in
case. But I was still scared to death that the dragon would just eat me.”
“I can’t believe you did that Harry!” said Parvati. “That’s the bravest thing
I’ve ever heard of! You could’ve been killed.”
                                     ~o0o~
Draco Malfoy couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. Potter had approached
the dragon - unarmed - and it had just given him the egg as obediently as a
dutiful puppy. Draco was very quiet as he made his way back to the Slytherin
common room following the conclusion of the First Task, oblivious to the hubbub
all around him.
Blaise Zabini entered the Slytherin common room and spied Draco looking lost in
thought on the green sofa by the fire. He glanced at Draco’s face, which looked
even pastier than usual.
“You might want to lay off Granger in the future, Draco,” said Blaise
pointedly, raising his eyebrows.
Draco started, snapping out of his reverie.
“Hunh? What do you mean Blaise? Not turning into a blood-traitor are you?” he
sneered.
“You should know me better than that Draco,” Zabini snorted. “Just pointing out
that you probably ought to watch yourself around Potter in the future...
Weren’t you paying attention?”
“Potter had a go at Weasley after he’d finished with the dragon,” Zabini
continued. “I don’t think he’s going to be inclined to dole out any more second
chances to people who don’t treat him or his friends right - especially his
girlfriend, Granger... And if he can stand up to a Dragon - unarmed - I don’t
think he’s going to be put off by anything you can come up with.”
Draco flushed angrily and stalked out of the common room. Zabini smirked at
Draco’s consternation; he loved getting a rise out of him. It was just too easy
to provoke the smarmy little coward.
Draco heaved himself onto his four-poster bed and stared at the green and
silver hangings above, nostrils flaring. For the thousandth time, he wished
he’d been sent to Durmstrang where they actually taught students how to perform
dark magic and curses - unlike the stupid defence stuff they did at Hogwarts.
It was beginning to look like he’d have to start learning the Unforgivables on
his own.
                                     ~o0o~
Sirius and Lupin had both been delighted and astounded to hear the details of
Harry’s encounter with the dragon. Harry grinned at their astonished features
in his mirror.
“That is remarkable Harry - and incredibly risky! There was no guarantee that
the dragon would accept you,” said Lupin, peering over Sirius’s shoulder into
the mirror. “There are very few wizards - even those well-experienced with
dragons - who would have dared to attempt such a thing.”
“That’s my godson for you,” Sirius beamed proudly. Lupin raised one eyebrow at
Sirius with a mirthful twitch of his moustache.
“Ahem... our godson I mean,” Sirius amended himself, giving Harry a roguish
wink; Hermione giggled.
“I’m glad you called, Harry,” Sirius added. “Dumbledore has banned Rita Skeeter
from Hogwarts, but I’m still not sure that I would have believed the Daily
Prophet’s reports. And if I know Skeeter, she’ll still find a way to muck
things up...”
“In any case,” Lupin interjected. “Dumbledore and Mad Eye have been keeping us
informed of your general progress, but Sirius and I are keen to keep an eye on
things ourselves. We may come up to Hogwarts to watch over the next two tasks
in person...”
Following the chat with Sirius and Lupin, Hermione finally managed to convince
Harry that he should put in an appearance in the Gryffindor common room. And
Harry was glad that she had, as Fred and George had forged ahead with party
plans despite the unlikelihood of Harry showing up.
Ron looked up from the game of chess he was having with Seamus, peering
wistfully at the crowd of cheering Gryffindors surrounding Harry and Hermione.
Unable to help feeling another pang of jealousy, Ron took a swig of his
butterbeer and resignedly returned his attention to Seamus and the game.
By the time Harry and Hermione returned to his private quarters, Harry was in
the best mood he’d been in for weeks. After cleaning his teeth and changing
into nightclothes, Harry cheerfully tumbled into his bed with Hermione.
Burning with ardour, their kisses grew increasingly humid, lips blazing trails
across each other’s necks and faces. Hermione imagined Harry shirtless again as
his caresses traveled, tingling blissfully at his every touch, showering her
own intimate affections upon him. Golden strands of Hermione’s tawny hair
damply clung to her pink cheeks as she gasped with passionate release in
Harry’s arms, trapping his hand between her thighs.
Giddily flushing with elation, Harry fell back against his pillow panting
breathlessly. Hermione lay her bushy head on Harry’s shoulder and snuggled
happily under one of his arms, wondering if Harry might be ready to take things
a bit further soon.
A few minutes later, still feeling a bit dazed, but quite contented, Harry
finally managed to put his thoughts of Hermione without her clothes on out of
his head and picked up the egg from the bedside table with his free hand. He
peered at it as it glinted in the flickering orange glow of the fire in the
hearth, looking for the clue again.
Except for the hinge and the furrow where the two halves met, the egg was
perfectly smooth, and as golden as the highlights in Hermione’s tawny-brown
hair. He had opened it at the celebration in the common room after much
imploring from the excited Gryffindors, but there had been nothing inside
except for a horrid loud shrieking sound which reminded him of the screeching
wheels of the Hogwarts Express.
“You’ve got plenty of time Harry,” said Hermione with a little giggle, pleased
to see Harry’s eagerness. “You don’t have to work it out tonight. Even if it
takes us until Christmas to figure out what the Clue is, you’ll still have two
months to prepare for the next Task.”
“Yeah... I suppose you’re right Hermione,” Harry grinned. He set the gold egg
down again and gave his girlfriend another gentle kiss. Tranquility settled
over the pair of them as Harry and Hermione cuddled, and gradually they drifted
off to sleep.
                                     ~o0o~
The boarded up windows of the deteriorating manor did little to muffle the
screams of pain from within. But it was far enough from the village of Little
Hangleton, and late enough at night, that only those brave enough to pass
through the abandoned and overgrown graveyard at the bottom of the hill after
midnight would hear them. A wretched Rat-like man writhed in agony on the floor
of a dusty cobwebbed upstairs sitting room with peeling wallpaper.
“Master... please! I beg you... It wasn’t my fault.”
“Beg a little harder Wormtail, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”
Purple lightning arced from the oozing greyish-red homunculus swaddled in black
robes on the threadbare armchair, and more shrieks of torment echoed through
the once stately home. The hideous dark creature tortured Wormtail three more
times before letting up. It waited several minutes for the Rat’s sobbing to
subside, considering its options.
The prearranged time for Wormtail’s meeting in Hogsmeade to receive an update
on the progress at Hogwarts had come and gone with no sign of Barty Crouch
Junior, and the Dark Lord had grown concerned. The Dark Lord had sent Wormtail
out again to glean as much information as possible, but Voldemort was most
displeased with what he had learned.
“Enough, you miserable fool!” snapped the Dark Lord in a high cold tone. “Get
up... Without an agent at Hogwarts I have no means to take Harry Potter’s blood
for my own. Are there no others among my followers loyal enough to do my
bidding?”
“My Lord,” the rodent-like man groveled, “They believe you to be dead... even
Lucius... and... and my word alone will not be enough to convince them to go
against Dumbledore to bring the boy to you. They follow the new Minister, and
according to my sources, she has not revealed the truth of your continued
existence...”
“And what of this... this new Minister... she is one of us is she not? ...a
follower of Slytherin - a Dark Witch?”
“My Lord, she is...” Wormtail replied, “but the word among the Death Eaters who
remain at large is that the new Minister has her own plan to restore a
Pureblood Order in Britain... At one time, before she gained power, she might
have joined forces with us.”
“But now...” continued the Rat, “now that she has the Ministry, all indications
are that she means to keep it for herself. And as she intends to return the
Ancient Houses to their former glory and reinstate the Old Ways, it is likely
that very few shall move against her - perhaps even once your return has been
made known to all.”
The Dark Lord cursed. He was not at full power and was not yet prepared to
fight a war on two fronts. And now it seemed that he had nobody to bring him
Potter. The Dark Lord was growing weary of residing in his muggle father’s
decaying manor. He had been prepared to put up with it in order to see the
competition at Hogwarts through, with the promise of Harry Potter at the end of
it. But now that the promise appeared to be unlikely to be met, it might have
to be done without the boy.
And that meant that the Dark Lord would be just as vulnerable to the boy's
protections - bestowed by the Ancient Magic which had been cast by the boy’s
mother in her last breaths - as he had been before. Though Voldemort had to
concede that some of the other restoration rituals might prove advantageous in
different ways, perhaps even giving him the power to decisively defeat the Old
Fool who ran Hogwarts once and for all.
The Dark Lord decided to bide his time a short while more, and see what might
come of the Second Task. The plan might be salvaged by then - it was still
possible that he might find another to do his bidding and slip them through the
increased security protocols at Hogwarts - but if not, the Dark Lord should be
prepared to act without further delay.
                                     ~o0o~
“Wake up Harry! Please... wake up!” sobbed Hermione.
Harry emerged from the nightmare in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, his scar
on fire. Harry groaned, peering into his girlfriend’s tear-filled eyes. As bad
as it was, Harry knew it would have been much worse if Hermione weren’t there.
Apparently he had been thrashing around, as the bedclothes were even more
tangled than when they had been snogging and messing about earlier that
evening.
“Oh thank goodness... thank goodness, finally!” Hermione wrapped herself around
Harry, peppering him with kisses and stroking his messy damp hair. “It seemed
to go on and on... I couldn’t wake you! It was him again, wasn’t it?
Voldemort!”
“Yeah...” Harry muttered, gasping as the throbs of pain ebbed, diminishing with
every kiss, “...it was! He was really angry... torturing Wormtail. I think he’s
cross because his plan to get me failed... He’s only just found out that Crouch
Junior was captured...”
“...but he’s going to try again - make a new plan, isn’t he?” said Hermione
worriedly.
“Yeah, I... I think so,” Harry murmured, as he tried to remember the details.
“I’m not really certain what... But whatever he does, I think he’s decided to
wait a bit - to see what happens with the Second Task.”
                                     ~o0o~
Despite his terrible nightmare - vision - whatever - and the pain during the
night, Harry felt reasonably good the next morning, far better than he had
during the summer when he’d dreamed about Voldemort and Wormtail killing the
old man. Harry was left only with the residual itching and occasional twinge
which he had grown used to since Voldemort had returned to Britain. Hermione’s
presence had made all the difference in the world, and Harry had readily agreed
with her that Dumbledore needed to be told at the earliest opportunity.
Harry and Hermione caught up with the headmaster at lunchtime, and Dumbledore
had invited them to dine with him in his office. Dumbledore listened intently,
thanking Harry profusely when he had imparted all the information that he could
recall. The headmaster stroked his long silvery beard as he watched the young
pair depart his office when lunch had concluded.
Albus Dumbledore poured himself another cup of Darjeeling. He squeezed in a
slice of lemon and stirred in a spoonful of honey, sighing as he considered his
many layered quandary. Harry had enough to be getting on with as it was,
dealing with the Triwizard tournament and his increasing workload at school.
The simplest solution was simply not feasible. It was more than apparent that
Harry did not have time to learn Legilimency and Occlumency at the moment.
Dumbledore spent a good long while pondering his conundrum. The only thing
which was clear was that Harry’s safety was paramount, and that Hermione
Granger was the key to it for the immediate future. But any decision taken now
in that regard would be irrevocable - there could be no going back for Harry
and Miss Granger - and it would require the express permission of Hermione
Granger’s mother.
Taking some heart from Alastor’s perceptive remark the night that Harry had
been chosen by the Goblet and had discovered the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw,
Dumbledore glanced at Fawkes and sighed again before taking up his quill and
writing a letter to Mrs Granger.
                                     ~o0o~
“Finnegan! Weasley! Will you pay attention? ”
Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cracked like a towel snap, startling Harry
and Hermione who were reviewing their work on the guinea fowl which they had
just transfigured into guinea pigs.
Harry couldn’t help grinning when he saw that Seamus and Ron had been having a
sword fight with a pair of the fake wands which had been invented by Fred and
George, instead of correcting their mistakes. Ron’s guinea pig still had a
beak, and Seamus’s looked as if it had been through a war-zone.
“Now that Weasley and Finnegan have kindly acted their age,” Professor
McGonagall said acidly, “I have an announcement to make. The Yule Ball is
approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard tournament...”
Professor McGonagall launched into an explanation of what was to be expected.
Ron’s face fell in horror when she got to the bit about wearing dress robes.
Lavender giggled and Parvati valiantly tried to restrain herself from giggling
as well; they both turned around to glance at Harry and Hermione when
McGonagall made a pointed remark about the Champions opening up the Yule Ball
with their dance partners.
Harry felt a wave of relief washing over him, thankful that he didn’t have to
look for a date, followed immediately by a flood of trepidation at the
knowledge that he would have to dance in front of hundreds of people.
“Don’t worry Harry,” Hermione whispered, giving his hand a comforting squeeze
when she saw him looking like a deer caught in headlights, “I promised I could
teach you how to dance, and I will.”
December had begun with another blizzard, and the snow piled even deeper
outside the drafty halls of Hogwarts. Nearly everyone in Fourth Year and above
had signed on to stay for Christmas, as had many hopeful Third Years.
The Professors began to decorate the castle in preparation for the upcoming
festivities, going all out with their guests in mind. Everlasting Icicles were
hung from the bannister of the marble staircase, suits of armour were bedecked
with tinsel, bows, and red Father Christmas caps. Hagrid hauled in a dozen
massive pines from the forest and Flitwick decorated them with thousands of
tiny primping fairies.
When she wasn’t shivering in the corridors, unused to the cold, Fleur Delacour
was haughtily waving off suitors in droves. It didn’t seem to matter that she
had heeded her father’s warning not to tell anyone that she was part Veela,
Fleur thought crossly. All the boys seemed to be acting like she was anyway,
uninterested in who she was as a person and oblivious to anything she said,
with eyes only for whichever part of her figure caught their fancy. Fleur
rather thought that Hermione Granger was very lucky to have Harry Potter as a
boyfriend, who seemed to treat her kindly and with respect.
Hermione was increasingly irritated by the girls who all seemed to be hovering
in the corridors giggling coquettishly whenever Harry walked by, clearly hoping
to catch him alone and be the one to convince him that it was time to move on
to someone new.
She was glad that they didn’t seem to hate Harry anymore, but Hermione wasn’t
certain that this was much better. Hermione wasn’t sure if they only liked
Harry now because he’d successfully faced down a Hungarian Horntail, or if it
was because Harry had managed to do it without his shirt on.
And Hermione wasn’t the only one who had noticed all of the positive attention
that Harry was receiving from the girls at Hogwarts after winning the first
round of the tournament. One afternoon, Ron and Seamus squeezed past a group of
a dozen or so girls who were unabashedly ogling Harry even though Hermione was
on his arm.
Hermione caught the bitter look in Ron’s eyes when he glanced at Harry, and was
certain that she heard Ron mutter something like “...of course they’re queuing
up for him! He’s just beaten a Hungarian Horntail!” to Seamus.
Harry sighed, spotting the flush of guilt on Hermione’s cheeks.
“Don’t beat yourself up Hermione,” Harry murmured as soon as they had managed
to find a quiet, clear passage. “It’s not the same thing at all...”
“But I was feeling jealous,” said Hermione in a small voice, her head hanging
down. “And I shouldn’t be, because I know you’d never do anything to hurt me!”
“Exactly!” said Harry firmly, gently cupping Hermione’s chin and lifting it so
he could look her directly in the eye. “And that’s why it’s not the same - it’s
not jealousy, not really... You’re not blaming me - it’s only natural that
you’d feel cross with those girls for trying to waylay me when it’s perfectly
obvious that we’re together.”
“Thank you Harry!” Hermione murmured gratefully, her heart fluttering as Harry
took her in his arms and gave her a tender kiss.
They both gave a little start and pulled apart when echoey footsteps in the
corridor indicated that they were no longer alone. Spying two very disappointed
looking Ravenclaw girls turning around and going back the way they had come,
Harry and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, both of them turning slightly pink.
The weeks leading up to the Yule Ball weren’t all about dodging the girls eager
to steal Hermione’s boyfriend though. There was still schoolwork to be done,
and they both spent time in the library trying to find any information which
might give them a clue about Harry’s Golden Egg.
Some professors like Flitwick had eased up as Christmas drew closer, even
letting students play games in class during the last week before the end of
term, but not all of them were so lax.
As the Skrewts were enormous and (thankfully?) too dangerous for direct
contact, Care of Magical Creatures had more or less become a free period to
hang out and chat with Hagrid or play in the snow for a bit. Professor Babbling
had been so thrilled with Harry for showcasing the practical usefulness of
Runes in the tournament that she had tried to give him a week off from
homework, but she was even more impressed when Harry had insisted on keeping
busy.
McGonagall and Snape weren’t having any of that nonsense though, keeping their
classes’ noses to the grindstone until the very last minute. Professor Vector
was just as strict, and Professor Moody would no sooner let his classes skive
off than he would wear a tutu.
During their special sessions, Professor Moody had begun teaching Harry and
Hermione a variety of explosive blasting spells, and kept them hard at work on
their regular calisthenics, but had begrudgingly allowed Hermione to spend the
daily exercise routines teaching Harry how to dance.
“I suppose it might come in handy when we begin hand to hand training after
Christmas,” the grizzled ex-Auror grumbled.
Harry had been extremely nervous about learning how to dance with Hermione,
certain that he was going to be the only champion with two proverbial left
feet. But after three lessons in the Room of Requirement’s ballroom setting
with his arm around Hermione’s waist, Harry finally began to relax and enjoy
himself.
“Stop it Harry, that tickles,” the young witch giggled as Harry nuzzled her
neck. “Focus on your feet and listen to the rhythm... 1, 2, 3... 1, 2, 3...”
That particular lesson came to a quick end when Harry’s lips found their way to
Hermione’s. After a particularly steamy kiss, they giddily made their way to
Gryffindor Tower for Hermione to collect her night things.
They arrived in the common room just in time to overhear a surly looking Ron
with singed eyebrows complaining to Seamus over the smoking wreckage of a pile
of Snap cards.
“...Fred’s right though, Seamus,” Ron was muttering. “All the good ones will be
gone... we should get a move on. We don’t want to end up with a pair of
trolls!”
“I suppose not!” Seamus sniggered.
“A pair of what? ” snapped Ginny indignantly, glowering at Ron from the sofa
where she was sitting with Dean, who was rolling his eyes at Seamus and Ron.
Lavender shared a disgusted look with Parvati. Hermione snorted with mirth,
rolled her eyes, and shook her head as she marched upstairs for her things.
Harry palmed his face, wondering if Ron would ever figure out how to talk to a
girl.
“I’m glad I’m not going with either of those two thickheads,” Lavender
whispered to Harry, “Viktor is really sweet.”
“What about you Parvati?” Harry asked. “Have you got a date yet?”
“My sister introduced me to Terry Boot in Ravenclaw,” Parvati replied,
reddening. “I don’t really know him, but Padma says he’s alright. After the
Quibbler article came out, he supported you - which is more than I can say
about that creep McLaggen...”
“Cormac McLaggen?” Harry muttered, frowning. “The fifth year bloke that hangs
out with Towler?”
“Yeah! He tried to ask us both out...” Parvati scowled, nodding.
“I told him I was going with Viktor Krum, then he got a bit nasty when Parvati
turned him down flat too,” Lavender explained.
“He didn’t touch you, did he?” asked Harry, his face darkening. Parvati shook
her head, her big limpid eyes widening.
“No, and I would’ve hexed him if he had!” she replied assertively.
“Good!” said Harry, just as Hermione reappeared with her bag. Lavender and
Parvati gave Hermione and Harry both a hug, whispering goodnight.
                                     ~o0o~
The school term had finally ended with the arrival of the Christmas Holidays.
Ron was feeling very testy when Pigwidgeon eventually returned from the Burrow
with Christmas cards for all of the Weasleys. Glancing at the envelopes, he saw
cards for Harry and Hermione as well. Ron scowled as the tiny owl twittered and
flitted around the icicle laden bannisters attracting the giggly attention of a
bunch of Third Year girls.
“Look at the weeny little owl... it’s sooo cute!” said one of the girls.
“Oooh... it’s adorable!” said another.
“Stupid feathery little git!” Ron hissed, running up the stairs and grabbing
Pigwidgeon. “Just bring the letters to me! Don’t bloody hang around showing
off!”
Pigwidgeon hooted cheerfully, his fluffy little head poking out of Ron’s fist.
The Third Year girls all looked horrified.
“Clear off,” Ron snapped at the girls, waving the fist which held his owl and
they all scurried away. Ron caught George’s expression.
“What’s your problem?” Ron sniped at George.
“You know something Ron,” said George as evenly as possible, “you’re a right
idiot sometimes! And I’m telling you this for your own good, out of the
kindness of my heart, because it’s Christmas... and I’m not Fred!
“It’s no wonder you can’t get a bloody date for the Yule Ball. Every single one
of those Third Year girls was a potential date, and you just chased them all
off. Which is probably for the best as far as they’re concerned, mind you,
given your dimwittedness and your rudeness - I wouldn’t wish you on any girl
until you grow up a bit... make that until you grow up a lot!
“I’ll let you think about that for a bit and work out why for yourself
though... You won’t learn anything otherwise! But here’s a hint - it’s not
actually all about missing the perfect opening the ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ little
feather ball gave you - it’s more or less the same reason you couldn’t hang
onto your best friend...
“Now, why don’t you give me the cards for Harry and Hermione... I’m not sure I
trust you to look after them properly,” George concluded.
Ron scowled again as he handed over the cards to George, but inwardly Ron was
groaning as George’s meaning became all too clear.
                                     ~o0o~
One of the nicest things about the Christmas Holidays was that curfew wasn’t as
strictly enforced. Admittedly that was usually because there weren’t any
prefects, head boys, head girls, and Aurors providing security for the
Triwizard tournament hanging around. Still, the Aurors and Filch were the only
ones to be concerned about, because the prefects really didn't care as it was
Christmas.
As such, Harry couldn’t be happier that Hermione had been able to spend every
night in his private quarters without having to worry about the possibility of
anyone fussing her at Gryffindor Tower the next morning, no matter what time
she rolled in. Christmas Eve had been the best one that he could ever remember
having.
After hanging out for part of the day playing in the snowdrifts with Luna,
Neville and the rest of their friends, and spending part of the day at
Gryffindor Tower, there had been a splendid Feast in the Great Hall - with the
promise of an even more magnificent one preceding the Yule Ball. Then Harry and
Hermione had spent the evening snuggling by his fire and drinking cocoa as
Crookshanks purred on their laps.
Finally, they began messing around in Harry's bed. He looked surprised when
Hermione reached her hand under the covers and tugged off her knickers,
chucking them to the end of the bed. Hermione smiled at Harry and raised her
eyebrows, beckoning him. Grinning, Harry slipped his hand under the covers too,
sliding it between Hermione's bare thighs, finding his way to her heated
entrance without the impedance of fabric, his fingers delving deeper inside her
than they had before.
Hermione returned the favour, slipping her hand inside Harry's pyjama bottoms
to gingerly grasp his hardness. After working themselves into a passionate
frenzy, they fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms.
Being awoken early on Christmas morning was the last thing that Harry had
expected. Spying two goggling green eyes the size of tennis balls staring at
him, Harry blinked and reached for his glasses. Hermione stirred awake with a
little shriek, blushing furiously when she spotted her knickers at the end of
the bed, pulling covers around herself protectively even though she was wearing
her nightie.
“Blimey Dobby,” Harry groaned. “What are you doing?”
“Dobby is very sorry sir,” Dobby squeaked anxiously, his own little cheeks red
with embarrassment. “Dobby is only wishing Harry Potter a Merry Christmas and
bringing him a present sir. Dobby is not expecting Harry Potter’s girlfriend to
be in bed with him. Dobby is very sorry to be upsetting Miss Granger...”
“It’s alright Dobby,” said Hermione, her own voice sounding a bit squeaky.
“I... I’m not upset, really!” she fibbed. “M...Merry Christmas Dobby!”
“Yeah... Merry Christmas Dobby!” Harry grinned, shaking his head with
amusement. “Don’t worry about it. Just try and be a bit more careful in
future.”
“Dobby will sir! Dobby promises!” said the house-elf earnestly. “Dobby will be
going now and giving Harry Potter and Miss Granger their privacy...”
“Hang on Dobby,” Harry interjected, reaching for a small parcel wrapped in red
and green paper on his nightstand. “Here’s a little present for you... Er...
Sorry... it’s not much...”
Dobby squealed gleefully as he tore through the wrapping paper, revealing a
pair of purple and gold socks.
“Thank you sir! Socks are Dobby’s most favourite clothes!” the happy house-elf
beamed. “How did Harry Potter know sir?”
“Er... just a guess really,” said Harry, feeling relieved that his present had
been such a big hit as he unwrapped the present Dobby had given him.
A pair of knitted socks fell out of the wrapping onto the bed cover. Hermione
clapped her hand to her mouth, trying to hide her laughter. One of the socks
was lime green with a pattern of gold snitches, and the other was scarlet with
a pattern of gold broomsticks. Dobby wept with happiness when Harry thanked him
profusely and pulled the socks on over his bare feet.
Hermione was still in a fit of giggles after Dobby departed; she kissed Harry
and scrambled to the end of the bed to drag their sacks full of presents up
with them.
“We’re wide awake now,” she said. “We may as well open them.”
Colourful wrapping paper, sparkling bows, and shiny ribbons began to collect
around the bed as Harry and Hermione opened their presents. They were pleased
to find among all the presents from others that they had both received the
usual assortment of sweaters and goodies from Mrs Weasley.
Harry was thrilled with the book Hermione had given him: Quidditch Teams of the
World, from Albania to Zaire. Hermione pinned Harry to the bed and snogged him
silly when she opened the little jewellery box containing a pair of pearl
earrings which matched the necklace that he’d given her for her birthday.
They were still kissing when a flutter of wings startled them. Crookshanks -
who was curled up on a cushion by the fire - purred happily to see Hedwig
arriving. Hermione reached for the envelope addressed to her with trembling
hands, puzzled, as she and Harry had already opened their cards from her
mother.
Inside the envelope was a card wishing Hermione a Happy New Year, and when she
opened the card, an official looking document fell out along with a letter.
Harry gasped as Hermione unfolded the Ministry Parchment. Hermione began to
breathe rapidly and she picked up the letter looking for an explanation.
Harry’s face turned crimson as he read along with her.
Dear Hermione,
Please don’t be alarmed. You will always have a home with me and your aunt for
as long as you wish it - I love you dearly. And our home will always be open to
Harry as well. If it helps, you may think of the official copy of the
Declaration of Emancipation which I signed as an extra Christmas Present.
I signed it at the behest of Headmaster Dumbledore. He came to visit me at the
beginning of December, and the poor dear was as red-faced as I’ve ever seen a
man to discuss the topic. I must admit that at first I was a bit reticent, but
Dumbledore assured me that of all his options for protecting Harry Potter at
the moment, this was the most workable.
I don’t quite understand all the ins and outs of the situation, but I know it
has something to do with a sort of telepathic dream that Harry had about the
dark wizard that killed his parents. Your closeness to Harry is apparently the
only thing which will insulate him from certain ill effects of this telepathic
connection.
Your emancipation was necessary for Dumbledore to skirt certain school policies
preventing the cohabitation of students of opposite genders. You will have to
speak to him for greater details, but he thought it advisable for me to contact
you first. I did consult with Harry’s godfather Sirius, and he assures me that
Harry is free to make his own decisions, being emancipated already, but that he
is in complete agreement in any case.
I know how much you love Harry. I do too! I trust you absolutely, and know you
to be as responsible as any adult - if not more-so than most. I only ask that
you use caution if you engage in any intimacies, as I am much too young to
become a grandmother.
Happy Christmas
Love from,
Mum
Hermione giggled nervously and peered at Harry, who was groaning and had his
blazing face covered with both hands. Harry couldn’t believe that Dumbledore
and Sirius had spoken to Mrs Granger about him and Hermione being “close” and
engaging in “intimacies.” Harry was never going to be able to look Mrs Granger
in the eye again.
Hermione’s anxiety began to grow in leaps and bounds as she watched Harry
imploding from embarrassment.
“Are... are y...you alright Harry?” she asked shakily. Hearing the fear creep
into Hermione’s voice seemed to pull Harry back from the brink. Of course she
would be just as nerve-wracked as him about everything. Harry didn’t want
Hermione to get the wrong impression and start feeling bad.
“Er... yeah... Hermione!” he finally managed, pulling his hands away from his
face. Harry gave her a shy little grin. “I’ll be fine... I swear! It... it’ll
just take a bit of getting used to your mum knowing about us... er... messing
around. This is brilliant... really! ... You’ll be able to do magic outside of
school whenever you want now!”
                                     ~o0o~
Heads turned and jaws dropped when Harry made his way down the marble staircase
to the Entrance Hall with his arm around Hermione’s slender waist. Harry knew
that it was because to everyone else, Hermione looked a lot less like a bushy
haired bookworm, and much more like a model in her shimmering pearly evening
gown. Though as far as Harry was concerned, everyone was just seeing Hermione
for the first time the way he always saw her - gorgeous - and more enticing
than any Veela.
Hermione’s hair was done up in a chic style, pulled to one side and only
partially straightened, leaving delicate golden curls framing one side of her
face and tumbling over her shoulder - which she had done because she knew Harry
liked her ringlets. She wore only the barest hint of makeup, just enough to
highlight her natural beauty, which was set off by the pearl necklace gracing
her neck, and the pearl earrings.
Parvati waved when she spotted them enter the Great Hall. Hermione beamed back
at her, mouthing the words “thank you,” for helping her style her hair.
Malfoy was stunned when he saw Granger; he opened his mouth, trying to think of
something rude to say, but Pansy punched him on the shoulder warningly. The
last thing Pansy wanted was a repeat of their humiliating experience. Malfoy
closed his mouth again, thinking better of it as Zabini’s words echoed in his
mind.
Ron and Seamus were among the many gaping at Hermione when she entered the
Great Hall. Ron recalled how nice Hermione’s figure had looked in that dress at
the World Cup, but she looked too pretty to be Hermione - she’d done something
to her hair - and her face looked different. He wouldn’t have recognised her at
all if she weren’t attached to Harry’s arm.
Ron’s hungry expression turned into a scowl when he saw Harry and Hermione
being beckoned to the Staff-table with the other champions and sitting next to
Viktor Krum and... Lavender Brown?
“Blimey... Lavender and Krum? ” Ron muttered, feeling a sudden surge of anger
towards his all-time favourite Quidditch player.
Seamus appeared to be a bit taken aback as well. Like Ron, Seamus had always
thought that Lavender was the prettiest Gryffindor girl in their year. Seamus
had even dared to dream of plucking up the nerve to ask her to the Yule Ball
before dismissing the idea out-of-hand.
Harry felt more than a bit uncomfortable sitting at the Staff-table among the
other champions and their headmasters for Christmas Dinner, taking a small
amount of comfort in the fact that he was not the only one at the centre of
attention. Harry’s feeling of awkwardness went up a few dozen notches when he
saw Dumbledore approaching the table, and he began to redden. Hermione turned
pink as well when she saw the headmaster.
Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing wink and leaned over to murmur in his ear as he
strode past him.
“Just do your best to enjoy yourself tonight, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly,
his eyes twinkling. “Any discussions about... things... that you and Miss
Granger may wish to have with me, can take place whenever you’re feeling up to
it. There is no rush - no rush at all!”
Then Dumbledore turned around to greet the others who were taking their seats
at the table. There was a slight edge to Ludo Bagman’s grin when he beamed at
Harry before glancing away. But the biggest surprise for Harry and Hermione
both, was seeing Percy Weasley taking Crouch’s place next to Bagman.
Harry felt a sudden chill. For a moment when Harry caught Percy’s eye, he had
seen a brief flicker of an expression not unlike Malfoy’s as Percy glanced at
him and Hermione. Percy Weasley’s demeanor quickly shifted to one of pure
smugness.
“I’ve been promoted,” Percy said before Harry could get a word in. “I’m working
directly for Minister Umbridge now as her personal assistant. Crouch was taken
ill, so she sent me to replace him.”
“Er... congratulations Percy!” said Harry with a stiff smile. Hermione offered
her own awkward felicitation, flushing as she remembered the fight she’d had
with Percy about Winky the house-elf the last time she had seen him.
All in all though, Harry and Hermione managed to enjoy the Christmas Feast,
despite the odd bits of tension with Percy. Cedric and Cho both made small talk
and chatted pleasantly to Harry and Hermione, giving Harry the distinct
impression that they were both trying very hard to make up for Cedric’s
previous behaviour. Viktor seemed to be a bit nervous, but it was obvious that
he was very smitten with Lavender as they conversed.
Dumbledore engaged in a bit of witty banter with Igor Karkaroff, concluding
with a little joke which made Harry snort with mirth and caused Percy to frown.
Hermione thought Fleur seemed very uncomfortable with Roger Davies - the
Ravenclaw Quidditch team captain. Harry noticed as well; Roger was too busy
ogling Fleur to take in a word she was saying, and she didn’t seem happy about
it at all. Fleur began making some mildly disparaging comments about the
Christmas decorations at Hogwarts to draw Roger’s attention away from her
bosom, to little avail.
Finally dinner was over, and all eyes turned to the brightly lit stage and
dance floor at the far end as the lights dimmed in the rest of the Hall.
“Come on Harry,” Hermione said quietly, beaming at him as she took his hand.
“It’s time to dance.”
Nervously, Harry let Hermione lead him to the dancefloor as the opening band
took the stage, trying to avoid looking anyone in the eye. The Weird Sisters
struck up a lilting waltz, and the champions began to dance.
Harry started to relax as other students began to join in. Dean shot Harry a
thumbs up and a smirk as he waltzed by with Ginny. Luna dragged Neville from
his seat, beaming radiantly at Harry and Hermione when she passed them. She
giggled when Neville kept stepping on her toes and apologising.
“It’s alright Neville,” said Luna kindly, “I’m not much of a dancer either.”
Ron and Seamus hovered by the punch bowl, gawking at all the girls in evening
gowns as they filed by with their dates to join the dancing. Seamus rolled his
eyes when Ron kept scowling at Harry and Hermione, and Krum and Lavender. There
were better things to do with their time.
“Come on mate,” Seamus snorted. “Forget about it! I’ve got a flask of
Firewhiskey... Me da sent it to me in the post. Let’s go have a nip, eh!?”
That got Ron’s attention. He suddenly realised that he was wearing himself out
when he should be trying to have a good time. Ron knew he only had himself to
blame and that George was right, but there was nothing he could really do about
it. And Seamus was right too. Ron couldn’t help feeling jealous, but he didn’t
have to make things worse by moping around and letting it eat away at him. It
was time to move on. Ron still had Seamus to hang out with... and Seamus had
Firewhiskey!
Seamus and Ron ambled out of the foyer of Hogwarts into the courtyard. Snow
crunched underfoot, but they were both dressed warmly enough. They found a bush
behind a bench which hid them from prying eyes, and leaned back against the
stone wall of the castle. Seamus took a hefty swig from his flask and passed it
to Ron. He grinned when Ron coughed on the burning liquid.
“Blimey!” Ron gasped, “No wonder they call it Firewhiskey!” It seemed even
stronger than he recalled it being at the World Cup.
“An’ there I thought yeh were an experienced drinker Ronny boy,” Seamus
chuckled, “Here, have another. It’ll smooth out soon enough.”
As the pair of young wizards shared another sip from the flask, Hagrid and
Madame Maxime plonked heavily on the stone bench with a slight cracking sound
in front of the bush they were hiding behind. They both silently groaned when
Hagrid began to whisper sweet nothings in Olympe’s gigantic ear. It looked like
they might be awhile.
The lights had gone down over the dancefloor once it had filled. Harry was
suddenly aware that it was a clear night outside the castle when he noticed the
silvery moon and stars above in the Enchanted Ceiling. He had a strange sense
of deja vu and grinned at Hermione as they gyrated slowly together, both
dressed to the nines. Hermione bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes shyly at
Harry, feeling as if she had butterflies in her tummy.
Harry felt much bolder in the dim light and he held Hermione closer as they
moved in time to the gentle rhythm. Hermione shivered delightedly when Harry’s
lips brushed against her cheek, gradually tracing a path to her lips. The world
fell away and time seemed to stop. Blissful peace washed over them both as they
kissed, dancing under moonlit starry skies.
Harry was startled when the lights came up as the Weird Sisters left the stage.
“Has it been a whole set already?” he asked.
“Yes... about an hour Harry,” said Hermione. “I think the next band is going to
liven things up a bit. They’re supposed to be a surprise.”
Harry was stunned when a vaguely familiar looking rock band took over the stage
and the Great Hall erupted into cheers. Hermione seemed equally amazed.
“Wait... is that...? It can’t be...” Harry sputtered. “I thought they were a
muggle band.”
“...Siouxsie and the Banshees!” gasped Hermione.
“Oh come on...” said Fred, grinning as he spun by with Angelina, “looking like
that - how could they be anything but wizards? Loads of famous Goth and Heavy
Metal bands are...
“Course some of them are vampires and werewolves too,” chimed in George, who
was dancing with Alicia Spinnet. “You should listen to Wizard radio more. It
isn’t all rubbish like Celestina Warbeck...”
As the loud drums and screechy guitars rocked the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore
started to tap his toes and nod his head, his eyes twinkling merrily. It had
been nearly two decades since he had frequented muggle nightclubs in London
with his on again/off again partner Elphias, but perhaps Albus wasn’t so old
after all. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Professor McGonagall and held out
his hand. Minerva pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly.
“I’ll take this dance, Albus,” giggled Madam Pomfrey as she took his hand
instead.
Finally rising from the stone bench after a long snog, Olympe stumbled and
giggled when Hagrid caught her. The two drunk boys hiding in the bushes behind
them breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the two half-giants headed back to
the Ballroom.
Thankfully the magical properties of firewhiskey had protected Ron and Seamus
from the freezing night. And fortunately for Ron and Seamus, they had arrived
just in time to see Siouxsie and the Banshees perform.
Shortly after midnight the Yule Ball was brought to a close. Sweat dripped from
Harry’s forehead as he threw back one last glass of punch. Hermione giggled,
dabbing her own wet cheeks with a napkin.
The Gryffindor Common Room filled as Fred and George’s after-party kicked into
gear. Ron and Seamus were too smashed though, and staggered up the stairs to
the dormitory to sleep it off. Giddily, Harry and Hermione made their way back
to his quarters, waving off Fred and George’s invitation to stay.
Hermione leaned against the wall of the corridor tipsily as Harry fumbled with
the lock on the door to his chambers. Suddenly realising what must have
happened, Hermione thought she ought to have a little chat later with the Twins
about why spiking a punch bowl intended for use by everyone was more than a bit
irresponsible. But in the meantime, nobody had come to any harm, and she was
feeling pleasantly tingly.
Grinning from ear to ear, Harry locked the door behind him and picked Hermione
up, carrying her to the settee in the sitting room, kissing every inch of her
face as she giggled madly. Harry gently lay Hermione down on the settee and
flung his dress robes over an armchair before tugging off his black bow tie.
Hermione’s eyes widened when Harry took off his white dress shirt and tossed
that on the armchair as well.
She couldn’t help licking her lips at the sight of Harry’s bare torso, the
sheen of dampness highlighting his rippling abdomen. Hermione felt hot and
giddy, trapped in her ball-gown. She stood up again and began tugging at her
pearlescent dress, giggling when she remembered the zipper. Hermione turned
around as Harry approached.
“Can you give me a hand please Harry?” she murmured hopefully.
Despite himself, and the heady rush of pleasure coursing through him, Harry
halted suddenly, gulping, wondering how far they were going to go this time.
“Are... are you sure Hermione?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything!” Hermione said firmly, her pulse
racing.
“Al...alright then,” Harry murmured, kissing the side of Hermione’s neck as his
slightly shaking fingers unzipped her dress, exposing the bare skin of her
back.
Hermione’s pearly ball-gown slid to the floor and pooled at her feet. Hermione
turned around and Harry’s breath caught to see so much more of Hermione’s
enchanting figure for the first time, her pink-tipped breasts rising and
falling with every breath, sheer white knickers the only stitch of fabric left
on her body. The yearning was too strong and they fell into each other’s arms,
the bare skin of their torsos connecting them as never before, lips fervently
engaged in a deep steamy kiss.
Sensing Harry’s rising passion as one of Harry’s hands pressed into the small
of her back and the other tangled in her golden locks, Hermione was so thrilled
that Harry finally felt comfortable enough to take the next step that she
decided not to be too hard on Fred and George about spiking the punch bowl...
Hermione undid Harry’s slacks and they slipped to the floor to join Hermione’s
ball-gown. She stepped back and took a deep breath to steady herself, hooking
her thumbs in the elastic of her knickers.
Then, before she could change her mind, Hermione slowly peeled them down her
thighs, revealing the trimmed triangle of delicate tawny wisps beneath, hoping
that Harry wasn’t going to back out now.
“Merry Christmas Harry!” Hermione giggled nervously, as if unwrapping herself
as a present for him, knickers dangling from her ankles.
Harry gulped again when he realised that Hermione was expecting him to do the
same. They had been dallying with each other for some weeks now, bringing each
other off in his bed while wearing pyjamas and nighties. And he thought back to
the moment on the Knight Bus when he’d made a bit of a mess in his jeans with
Hermione wriggling on his lap - which she had rather seemed to get a bit of
wicked enjoyment from. But this was completely different.
Harry’s cheeks burned red-hot, embarrassed to expose his erect thingy in front
of Hermione. What if she laughed? Of course, she was already giggling
nervously, so how would he be able to tell? In the end that was what decided
Harry. Hermione was just as anxious as he was, and he loved her. How could he
refuse?
Harry scrunched his face into a grimace and quickly yanked off his boxers. For
some reason, despite his discomfiture - or because of it- Harry’s bobbing
erection seemed to grow even stiffer under Hermione’s fascinated gaze.
Hermione bit her lip hard in an effort to stop giggling, not wanting to make
Harry feel any more awkward than he already did, but she couldn’t stop looking
as tingles of arousal shot through her. She had seen pictures of penises in
books of course, but this was the first time that she had ever seen one up
close and personal. And better yet - this one was Harry’s.
“Er... is it... erm... alright?” Harry asked, cringing, and wondering if it was
too small or too big when Hermione just kept staring at it. Hermione snapped
out of the spell and threw her arms around Harry, pressing her nakedness
against his.
“It’s perfect Harry!” she grinned, giving him a kiss to prove that she meant
it.
Harry felt a flood of relief, not to mention another massive surge of
excitement when he felt Hermione’s bare skin directly against his own again. A
tremor shot through him as he held Hermione’s warm body in his arms. Hugging
Hermione without clothes on was even more intoxicating than he had imagined
while cuddling and making out with her with their clothes on.
Harry let out a little “eep” when Hermione slid one of her hands down his back
and squeezed one of his buttocks, the fingers of her other hand raking across
his chest while she nibbled one of Harry’s earlobes. Picking up on Hermione’s
cues, Harry relaxed and let his own hands and lips roam, exploring her naked
form.
The dizziness attained from the spiked punch at the Yule Ball was nothing
compared to the euphoria induced by kneading Hermione’s firm breasts, sliding
his hand across the supple skin of Hermione’s taut belly, or cradling
Hermione’s bottom cheeks in the palms of his hands. When Hermione flicked
Harry’s nipples with her tongue and gave him a devilish look, he took the hint.
This time, the trail blazed by Harry’s humid lips traveled from Hermione’s neck
and down across her collarbone until they wetly engulfed the pink summit of one
of her little hills. Hermione’s squirming and moans of delight told Harry that
he had discovered one of her trigger points. Harry swirled his tongue around
Hermione’s hard nipple and began to suck, rolling her other peak between his
thumb and fingers as he continued to massage her breasts.
Hermione fell back into the settee, pulling Harry with her, letting out a
squeak of elation, grinding her wetness against one of his thighs, reaching for
his burgeoning stiffness. Harry groaned when he felt Hermione’s warm hand
wrapping around his erection, gently tugging it a few times. Hermione’s thighs
parted as she guided him towards her sopping heat.
“Hermione...” gasped Harry when he realised just how far she intended to go.
“Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes...” Hermione panted, beads of sweat forming on her heaving breasts, “I’ve
been wanting to... to be with you like this since the World Cup! ... I’ve just
been working up the nerve to...”
“What about - you know - protection?”
“There’s a charm for that,” Hermione quickly answered, aching with
anticipation, “I did it earlier when I was getting ready for the Yule Ball. I’m
ready Harry... but...but only if you are!” she concluded reluctantly.
“Okay then... Alright Hermione,” Harry grinned apologetically at his
girlfriend, “I’m ready too then... I just wanted to be absolutely certain!”
“You’re so sweet Harry... I love you so much!” she replied, gazing longingly
into his earnest green eyes.
Hermione beamed at Harry and pulled him closer. She bit her lip as the crown of
Harry’s stiffness nestled in the warm pink entrance of her moist crescent
valley. Girding himself for any signs of distress from Hermione, Harry gingerly
pressed forth.
“I won’t break, Harry,” she urged him.
Emboldened by Hermione’s plea, Harry plunged his rigid lance into Hermione’s
tight sheath, relieved that her wetness had eased his passage. Hermione let out
a little cry of pleasure to feel Harry inside her for the first time. Harry
began to thrust, remembering the rhythms of the dances, picking up speed as his
confidence increased with Hermione’s every moan of joy.
Hermione’s hips tilted and she folded her legs around Harry’s backside, meeting
his thrusts as their timing synced. Harry groaned at the delicious sensation of
Hermione’s tightness clinging to his shaft as he pistoned in and out.
Hermione arched, moaning loudly and shuddering as gusts of ecstasy began to
sweep through her. Harry felt as if he were soaring through a starry night when
the whirlwind of bliss caught him in its grasp and swept him along for the
ride. Harry lost himself and groaned again, convulsively releasing his essence
into Hermione’s depths.
Hermione clutched Harry tightly, and the last thing she recalled before she
faded into oblivion, was Harry deep inside of her, and his beads of sweat
against her skin, as he tenderly kissed her and murmured, “I love you
Hermione.”
***** Chapter 25: Truth and Consequences *****
The headmaster’s eyes twinkled as he regarded the pained expression on his
deputy headmistress’s features, her furrowed brow and pursed lips a sure sign
of distress. The Phoenix on the perch ruffled his carmine and gold feathers and
averted his eyes, looking as if he were considering flight to avoid an oncoming
storm. The headmaster gestured towards the steaming hot cup of Earl Grey he had
poured for the deputy headmistress and the accompaniments on the tea-tray.
“Lemon and honey? Cream and sugar? The lemon-ginger biscuits are also quite
nice,” he offered brightly.
“Really Albus,” snapped Professor McGonagall, ignoring the cup of tea and the
biscuits, “look what has become of your meddling. Gryffindor will be in an
uproar - indeed, no doubt the whole school shall be awash with rumour and
innuendo. How can this possibly be of benefit to Mr Potter and Miss
Granger...?”
“I believe the proper terms of address are now Mr and Mrs Potter,” said Albus
Dumbledore politely, his eyebrows raised. Professor McGonagall let out an angry
huff.
“That is my point precisely! First allowing them to share private chambers -
then this! How you could allow this to happen - at their age...”
Dumbledore raised his hand slightly and Professor McGonagall quieted.
“You must believe me Minerva. I have only the best interests of Harry and Mrs
Potter at heart. Indeed, their formal marriage now puts me in a much stronger
position for defending their cohabitation in private quarters to the School’s
Board of Governors. Such arrangements have been made in the past for young
married couples...”
“Yes, but in the entire history of Hogwarts, only during the sixth or seventh
year of the students in question,” Minerva McGonagall interrupted acidly,
unable to help herself. “And it is exceedingly rare in any case.
“You know as well as I do that once such an arrangement is formalised, private
housing necessarily becomes permanent and the standard rules of House
affiliation no longer apply. That is generally not so much of an issue for
those who have reached the standard age of majority, and who usually only have
a number of months of schooling left - but the Potters are only in fourth
year.”
“That is true,” Dumbledore nodded, his twinkles vanishing as he suddenly
realised where Professor McGonagall was going with her line of argument. He
stroked his long silvery beard pensively when he began speaking again.
“As to Harry and Mrs Potter’s treatment by the student body, I daresay that
their new status as husband and wife shall make very little difference at the
moment, given the scrutiny they have already endured this year. Many teenagers
can be fickle and sometimes unwittingly cruel creatures, but quite frankly,
they are no more or less easily swayed by vicious propaganda and the prodding
of their peers than many adults.
“There is very little that we can do about the effects of outside propaganda
such as to be found in the pages of the Daily Prophet... Regardless, it is our
duty as educators to guide our students as best we can to treat each other in a
kind and respectful manner and to not succumb to an unruly mob mentality. And
it is also up to us as the Order of the Phoenix to protect those who are at
greatest risk.
“These are dangerous times Minerva. Voldemort has returned to Britain as you
well know, and a possibly competing Darkness is growing within the Ministry
itself. And might I remind you that you were quite in agreement with me
regarding Harry’s emancipation?...”
Minerva McGonagall inwardly groaned. Indeed, when they had been discussing
options for dealing with Harry’s mistreatment at the hands of the Dursleys, she
had been very much in favour of pressing Fudge to emancipate Harry on his
authority as Minister.
Ultimately, it was the Dursleys’ ignoring of the first Ministry Warning, and
the escape of Black from prison which had compelled Dumbledore to follow
through and finally make that call. She turned her attention back to the
headmaster as he went on.
“It is true,” said Dumbledore, “that I alone am responsible for asking Mrs
Granger to emancipate her daughter for Harry’s benefit - his protection - but
can you truly be so quick to dismiss her agreement to do so, given Hermione
Potter’s exceptional degree of maturity and intellect?
“The choices that Harry and Hermione Potter made were their own entirely, and
they made them deservedly so. And can you truly disagree that the Potters are
now much safer together, in a wing of the castle not so easily accessible to
those with the passwords to enter the Houses - as Sirius himself and Alastor
both reminded me?...”
Professor McGonagall flushed, recalling how easy it had been for Sirius Black
to gain entrance to Gryffindor Tower. And despite the efforts which had been
made since to teach the portraits guarding the Houses not to let in anyone who
was not a student or staff member, if the experience with the False Alastor
Moody - Barty Crouch Jr - had taught them anything, it was that anyone under
the influence of a polyjuice potion with the right passwords could enter
Gryffindor Tower.
Minerva McGonagall’s lips grew thinner and her consternation grew deeper as
Dumbledore continued to speak.
“...And the Potters have both - even at such tender ages - proven themselves
deserving of being treated as adults time and time again. It would be quite
unfair for us now to disallow them to make their own choices, legal adults that
they now are both, as long as they are kept fully informed of the potential
consequences of their acts...”
“Well there you go then,” interjected Professor McGonagall haughtily, arching
her eyebrows, latching desperately onto the last, best argument that Dumbledore
had just tossed in her lap. “...Consequences indeed! Mr Potter clearly cannot
have known that by his impetuous act, he has made himself ineligible to be
Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the remainder of his time at
Hogwarts.”
“Yes,” said Dumbledore in a small voice. He went on with a sigh, “That is most
unfortunate for Mr Potter. However, it is possible that there may be a way
around the bylaws regarding Unaffiliated students - Harry and his wife were
originally chosen by the Sorting Hat for Gryffindor after all.”
A wry expression crossed Dumbledore’s features as he was reminded of his
deputy’s very considerable degree of determination, and a twinkle returned to
his eyes as he peered at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
“I must say Minerva,” he continued, “that you were quite proficient in finding
a means to bend the rules to afford young Harry the opportunity to play for the
team during his first year; therefore I shall leave researching a means to
allow him to continue playing in your quite capable hands. I have no doubt that
you shall...
“And when you do, I expect you to explain to Harry in full that he, as an
Unaffiliated student, is being granted another rare opportunity - and to this
time leave the choice to rejoin the team in his hands.”
Professor McGonagall appeared somewhat disconcerted by Dumbledore’s final
pointed remarks. As she departed the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore couldn’t
help but feel that Harry Potter might yet surprise them both with whatever
choice he made.
Dumbledore took another sip from his own teacup and glanced at the parchments
on his desk, weighing the pros and cons of some of the other decisions which
lay before him.
                                     ~o0o~
The day after the New Year had begun, Parvati and Lavender both giggled
excitedly as they helped Hermione lug the rest of her things to Harry’s - no,
Hermione corrected herself - her and Harry’s private chambers. They had waited
until they were certain that nobody else was in the Gryffindor Common Room -
especially Ron, uncertain as Hermione was about his possible reaction to the
news.
On the one hand, over the holidays Ron had continued to telegraph indications
that he wanted to be friends with Harry again. But on the other, judging from
the looks Ron had been giving them during the Yule Ball, it still seemed that
he had little control over his jealousy.
Hermione peered anxiously at Lavender and Parvati while they helped arrange her
things next to Harry’s in the wardrobe and dresser drawers while she filled the
bookshelves with her books. Crookshanks sat on the bed grinning at them,
flicking his bushy orange tail lazily.
“You won’t tell anyone yet, will you?” she asked.
“Well, it won’t be a secret that you and Harry are married for long, especially
as you’re wearing that lovely ring,” Parvati fairly pointed out. “And everyone
will be wondering why you aren’t living in Gryffindor Tower anymore.”
“Besides, marriages are recorded by the Ministry and reported in the paper,”
said Lavender sympathetically. “By the time term starts, everyone will know.”
“Anyway, even though some people will probably think it’s a bit weird - you
both being married so young - at least they won’t be able to say rude things
about you two living together not married,” Parvati added.
“I suppose you’re both right,” Hermione sighed. “I’m just being silly.”
“And it’s not like you’re the first people to ever get married as teenagers.”
Lavender sighed happily with a dreamy expression. “I think it’s romantic.”
“That’s because you want to run off and marry Viktor,” giggled Parvati.
“Prat!” retorted Lavender, giving Parvati a swat with a cushion.
The last few days of the Christmas Holidays seemed to pass without incident,
but as it turned out, Parvati and Lavender were correct; by the time term
began, nearly the entire school was aware and the whispers had already begun.
But at least the Potters still had their closest friends for support, and the
whispers surprisingly remained as little more than quiet talk and the
occasional giggle.
Luna, Neville, and Ginny had been at least as congratulatory as Parvati and
Lavender. And Viktor Krum, the Twins, and Dean Thomas had all been quite
impressed with Harry. It was hard to tell what Ron and Seamus thought, as they
had been a bit more subdued and kept to themselves somewhat since the Yule
Ball.
And for those few who were still in the dark when term started, they could
hardly miss the fact that most of the professors found themselves stumbling
over the proper way to address Hermione in class. Professor Sprout was among
the first to keep calling Hermione Miss Granger, and then catching herself and
calling her Mrs Potter, but she certainly wasn't the last. Hermione had blushed
furiously as the class fell into a fit of giggles.
“Blimey Hermione!” a crimson faced Harry muttered as they departed from their
first Herbology lesson of the year. “Sorry - I never thought about that. If you
want to, you can keep your last name - I’m not fussed about that sort of...”
“No!” Hermione said firmly, giving Harry a hard stare. “I like being Mrs
Potter, and don’t you ever forget that, Harry!
“...Besides, it’s too late for that now. And yes... I was a bit worried at
first about what people would think, but then I realised that it didn’t make
one bit of difference. Lots of people have been rude and horrible about both of
us since first year anyway, but as long as we have each other and our friends,
I can put up with anything!”
“I hope so Hermione,” Harry sighed as they made their way through the
snowdrifts to Care of Magical Creatures, “because we’re about to have a lesson
with the Slytherins.”
But when they reached the paddock in the clearing near Hagrid’s hut, the topic
on the top of everyone’s mind seemed to be something quite different. Ron,
Seamus, Neville, and Dean were frowning at Draco Malfoy and the Slytherins, who
all seemed to be quite gleeful.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked Neville. “Where’s Hagrid?”
“See for yourself,” Neville muttered, passing Harry a copy of the Daily Prophet
as the Slytherins continued to chortle nastily. Seamus and Ron averted their
eyes shiftily when Harry glanced at them. Hermione frowned at the headline.
              DUMBLEDORE’S GIANT MISTAKE: HALFBREEDS AT HOGWARTS
Hermione scanned through the article quickly while Harry tried to keep up.
“So what if Hagrid is Half-Giant!?” she snapped crossly, “It’s just bigotry...
they can’t all be horrible - it’s just like the prejudice against Werewolves...
Look how Skeeter goes on and on about Lupin as well in the second, third, and
fourth paragraphs - and he’s as sweet and mild-mannered as a lamb!”
Ron and Seamus looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief,
unwilling to argue with Hermione, torn between their affection for Hagrid and
their preconceptions about brutally savage Giants.
“How did that Skeeter cow find out anyway?” growled Harry, his blood boiling.
“I thought she’d been banned from Hogwarts.”
Seamus and Ron looked a bit shifty again.
“Dunno,” Ron muttered awkwardly, the first words he had spoken to Harry since
before Christmas. This wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned to try and get Harry
to speak to him again. “Seamus and I overheard Hagrid and Madame Maxime
chatting a bit about their childhoods while we were... erm... getting smashed
during the Yule Ball. I suppose Rita Skeeter could’ve heard too, but we didn’t
see her anywhere.”
“Mebbe she’s got an Invisibility Cloak,” Seamus proffered with a shrug.
“Whatever! Skeeter’s just doing a public service! That should put an end to the
Halfbreed Oaf’s teaching career...” sneered Malfoy, “I can’t see anyone wanting
their kids to be taught by a savage giant - they’ll be worried that he’ll eat
them. Haha..!”
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered sycophantically.
“Shove off Malfoy!” snarled Ron.
Harry briefly felt a moment of kinship with Ron before he remembered that he
was still cross with him as well. Harry was about to furiously respond to
Malfoy too, but at that moment, a witch with short steely-grey hair and a
jutting chin entered the clearing.
“Alright now, that’s enough of that then! It’s time for class to begin...”
“Where’s Hagrid?” Harry interrupted the substitute professor heatedly.
“Too ashamed to show his stupid face I reckon,” Malfoy smirked.
The witch ignored Harry and Draco, speaking briskly and loudly over the both of
them. “My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank, and I shall be teaching this class
until further notice. This way please.”
The professor wheeled about and led them past the Beauxbatons horses to the far
end of the paddock. Harry’s breath caught and the girls all “ooohed” and
“aaahed” when they spied the gleaming white Unicorn tethered to a tree, its
luminous glow making the glistening snow look dingy in comparison.
Harry was so overtaken by its beauty that his fury at Malfoy and being ignored
by the professor melted away. The last Unicorn he had seen had been lying dead
on the forest floor, its silvery blood dripping from the mouth of Voldemort’s
Shade. Harry blinked back the unbidden tears and stepped towards the Unicorn;
Hermione grabbed his hand.
“Harry, no!” she squeaked anxiously, eyeing the Unicorn pawing nervously at the
snow-covered ground with its golden hooves.
“Stay back, boy!” snapped Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Unicorns prefer a woman’s
touch...”
But Harry didn’t seem to hear as the compulsion drew him closer. The world had
gone silent and for a moment it only seemed to contain him, Hermione and the
Unicorn. Falling snowflakes stilled and sparkled in midair, frozen in time as
Harry bowed and reached out his hand. The Unicorn calmed and bowed its own
head.
Hermione gasped and beamed at Harry as he gently petted the Unicorn’s nose and
stroked its silky white mane. Still holding Harry’s other hand, she stroked the
Unicorn too, feeling a strong urge to kiss Harry and ride off with him into the
forest on its back.
Professor Grubbly-Plank quieted and held her breath, eyes wide with shock,
afraid that she might break the spell and spook the Unicorn. As she watched the
bushy haired girl reach out her own hand to touch the Unicorn, it finally
registered with the substitute professor that the irksome boy was Harry Potter.
“Well done Mr Potter!” she said quietly when Harry rejoined the rest of the
students with a glowing Hermione at his side.
As she looked him over to see what could possibly account for the Unicorn’s
unusual behaviour, Professor Grubbly-Plank noticed that there was something
quite different about Harry Potter’s shining green eyes, something that seemed
almost feminine. She snapped out of it with a shake of her head and returned to
form.
“Right then class!” she said brusquely, “Now, what you just saw was very
unusual. If you value your lives boys, I highly recommend that you keep back!
Unicorns can be quite dangerous towards males. Girls, please form a line...”
Malfoy snorted and glowered at Harry and Hermione. Draco felt a nearly
overwhelming urge to ignore the Professor’s warning and have a go at touching
the Unicorn. If Halfblood Potter and a Mudblood could do it, then he knew he
could do it too. He was a Pureblood - a Noble - of course a Unicorn would
accept him. But then he remembered his experience with the Hippogriff and
thought better of it.
“Big Deal!” sneered Malfoy. “So you touched a Unicorn, Potter! ...Just proves
how girly you are.”
Harry raised his eyebrows at Malfoy and smirked. “Yeah, maybe I am. So what?”
Draco felt a surge of bewilderment and anger, unable to conjure a response as
Harry and Hermione turned and walked away. After classes finished for the day,
Harry and Hermione traipsed back down through the snow to Hagrid’s hut and
banged on the door, to little avail.
“Hagrid, open up!” Harry yelled, thumping loudly.
“It’s just us Hagrid!” shouted Hermione.
But the door remained shut, and Hagrid remained silent; all they could hear was
Fang barking and whining as he scratched from the other side.
                                     ~o0o~
Worry about Hagrid ate at Harry and Hermione, but when they reached the Room of
Requirement for training with Professor Moody, they were distracted by the
presence of a girl who looked like she might be in seventh year, though neither
of them had ever seen a girl with spiky violet hair at Hogwarts before.
“Right then Potters,” growled Moody, unable to resist grinning at them both and
giving them a wink, “before we begin, I’d like you to meet Nymphadora Tonks...”
“But just call me Tonks for now alright,” said the violet haired girl, sticking
out her tongue at Moody. “I hate my first name - and Mad Eye bloody knows it.”
Professor Moody chuckled and the Potters took to Tonks immediately, both of
them grinning at her.
“Heh, be that as it may,” Mad Eye continued, “Tonks is here for a couple o’
reasons. One is to help continue the trainin’ as it’s plainly obvious to me
that Mr Potter’ll be far too soft on his missus to get the job done right when
we begin hand to hand fightin’ techniques. She’ll be workin’ with Mrs Potter...
And the other reason - the main one really - is that she’ll be keepin’ an eye
on you both for the Order. She’ll be movin’ into quarters right next to
yours...”
“The Order? What’s that?” asked Harry, suddenly suspicious. “And why does
someone need to keep an eye on us?”
“Don’t worry,” said Tonks hastily, glaring at Moody. “It’s not the way Mad Eye
makes it sound. I’m Sirius’s cousin - he thought you should have a protection
detail on you and Hermione, Harry, given the circumstances of You-Know-Who’s
return and the fact that someone in the Ministry with connections here at
Hogwarts seems to ‘ave it in for you too...”
“The Malfoys and the Minister,” Hermione hissed.
“Perhaps!” Moody chuckled. “Anyway, Dumbledore agreed, and so Tonks is in.
She’ll be shadowin’ you between and after classes. You should both be grateful
- she’s put a promising career as an Auror on hold to be part of this...”
Tonks rolled her eyes at Mad Eye and shook her head. “Don’t let Mad Eye guilt
you - I’m here because I volunteered for it.”
“...And if Tonks would quit interruptin,’ maybe I could finish,” Moody
grumbled. “As I was saying, Tonks finished her Auror training last summer, but
she’s also a part of the Order - the Order of the Phoenix that is. Dumbledore
started it way back when to fight Voldemort the first time around - your mum
and dad were part of it Mr Potter.
“So were Sirius and Remus and half the professors at Hogwarts... and the
Weasleys too, among others. Some would’ve thought we might’ve stopped after you
apparently finished Voldemort, Potter. But we’ve been keepin’ our eye on things
and layin’ low is all. After the business with the Philosopher’s Stone we’ve
been on full alert again. And with everything that’s been goin’ on this year,
Dumbledore thought it was about time you were in on it too...”
“Sirius!” said Tonks in a loud stage whisper, giving Harry and Hermione a wink.
“Yeah, I s’pose Tonks is right about that,” said Moody, with another gruff
chuckle. “Sirius and I kinda pushed the issue a bit with Dumbledore - we figure
that given what you’ve both accomplished already, you’re old enough now, and
you’ve got a right to be part of it all. So now that bit’s outta the way, I
need to ask you if you’ve worked out the Egg yet, Potter?”
Harry swallowed when Professor Moody’s electric-blue eye gave him a penetrating
look, glad that he and Hermione had managed to work it out, and not given Moody
the chance to berate him.
“Yeah, I got it just before New Year’s,” Harry nodded.
“Excellent Potter! Right - well I reckon we’ll need a swimming pool in here to
train in for part of the week then. You might as well swim in place of your
regular daily calisthenics for now. But as I said - we’ll also start doin’ a
bit of hand to hand, though we’ll focus more strongly on that once we’re past
the Second Task now that we’ve got a good idea what this one entails.”
“Er... The only thing is, I don’t really know how to swim,” said Harry,
flushing with embarrassment. “The Dursleys never took me swimming whenever they
took Dudley, and my primary school didn’t have a pool.”
Tonks scowled, remembering some of the things that Sirius had told her about
how the Dursleys had apparently treated Harry.
“That’s alright Harry,” said Hermione, looking sympathetic. “I can show you how
to swim. I’m not brilliant, but I know all the basic strokes.”
“Good enough then,” Moody nodded. “Finally, you’ll need to be able to breathe
underwater for the duration of the task. I’ll leave you to work that bit out
yourself - gotta give you somethin’ to figure out on your own. I’ll give you a
couple of weeks tops... Anyway, you can start workin’ on that tomorrow Potter,
today we’ll get you both started on some fightin’ techniques...”
Harry was glad that he and Hermione had kept up a bit with their calisthenics
over the holidays, as Moody put them both through their paces before he and
Tonks showed them how to do a few basic blocks, strikes, holds, and throws.
Moody grinned at them both while they were groaning on the mat at the end of
the lesson.
“Heh! Count your lucky stars we’ll only be doin’ that about one lesson a week
till after this task is done with. There’ll be a lot more of that coming to
prepare for the Third Task. So get crackin’ on swim practice Potter.” And with
one final chuckle, Professor Moody stumped out of the Room of Requirement.
When they had finally managed to recover a bit and catch their breaths, Harry
pushed himself up off the mat with a grunt as Tonks helped Hermione to her
feet.
“Sorry about that,” said Tonks apologetically when Hermione winced in pain as
they made their way back to their private chambers to clean up before dinner.
“Mad Eye seems to think he’s still runnin’ the Auror Training bootcamp...”
“No, I’m fine... really!” Hermione lied.
“Yeah... we’re used to it now.” Harry groaned again. Every muscle and joint in
his body hurt.
Tonks peered at them both wryly as she pulled several vials of potion out of
her pocket.
“Here you go then - a couple of pain potions for you both,” she said with a
grin. “I got ‘em off Pomfrey before I headed up here with Mad Eye. I knew ‘e’d
be a bear about it... He ran everyone through the ringer when he was trainin’
us at the Auror Academy. It really will get easier eventually... after you
actually do get used to it...”
“So what’s it like being an Auror?” Harry asked after gratefully swigging the
pain potion. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Tonks’ features.
“It’s alright I suppose - I like gettin’ the bad guys...” she replied, “but to
be perfectly honest, I’m sorta glad to be out of it and back at Hogwarts.
Aurors tend to be a bit of a stiff lot... and me, well... I like to ‘ave
fun...”
“How come you joined up then?” asked Hermione, her eyes glazing slightly as the
pain potion began to kick in.
“Mad Eye!” Tonks muttered. “He recruited me after I got in a spot of trouble at
Hogwarts during sixth year - I couldn’t really say no...” Tonks trailed off.
Neither Hermione nor Harry pressed her; it was quite apparent that she wasn’t
keen to revisit what was clearly a painful memory for her.
“Anyway,” Tonks continued, brightening, “when Sirius asked me if I wanted to go
undercover for the Order and come back to Hogwarts for a bit, I jumped at the
opportunity. Most of the Aurors working security for the Triwizard tournament
know me - they think I’m doing plainclothes undercover security for them, but
really, I’ll just be watchin’ your backs for the Order... I’ll try to stay
outta your hair though...”
Feeling cheerful and slightly buzzy from the pain potions by the time they
reached their quarters, Harry and Hermione were both intrigued to see the new
door in the corridor very near their own. Tonks looked like she wanted to say
something else, but instead turned towards the new door, which apparently
belonged to her.
“Well, I suppose I’d better let you two get cleaned up for dinner then...”
“Wait,” said Hermione after sharing a brief look with Harry, “why don’t you
come in for a bit and have dinner with us? We’re a bit too worn out to go
downstairs tonight anyway.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah... absolutely,” said Harry quickly with a grin, eager to find out more
about whatever it was Tonks seemed keen to talk about.
Dobby was only too happy to bring them all dinner in the Potters’ private
chambers. Tonks soon had Harry and Hermione in stitches as she regaled them
with stories about her time at Hogwarts, and some of her funnier moments
training to be an Auror. They were fascinated to learn that her father was a
muggleborn. Tonks peered at Harry sympathetically as she chatted about the
favourite bits of visiting her muggle relatives.
“...yeah, I love muggle comic books and movies,” she was telling them,
“especially sci fi/fantasy and superhero stuff. I love watchin’ Dr Who and Star
Trek on the telly when I visit my muggle grandparents and cousins, and Star
Wars is one of my favourite movies...” Tonks seemed to be drawing nearer to the
topic she had wanted to talk about to begin with when she gave Harry a
conspiratorial look.
“...I’m sorry you had such a rough time of it with your muggle relatives Harry.
But Sirius mentioned something you told him about which I thought was
interesting. Is it true that when your aunt tried to cut off all your hair that
you regrew it overnight?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded, wondering where Tonks was going with this. “I got in
loads of trouble for that, even though I didn’t know how I did it. I still
don’t really... I suppose it was just accidental magic... like the time I
turned Aunt Marge into a balloon.”
“Hmmm... It’s a bit more than that, I should think,” said Tonks excitedly.
“That’s not something just any wizard could do, even accidentally. That sorta
self-transfiguration nearly always requires a wand... unless you’re a
metamorphmagus.”
Hermione gasped, but Harry looked puzzled.
“A what?”
“A metamorphmagus Harry,” said Hermione, her eyes boggling. “They can transform
their anatomy - even make bits into animal forms... though you’d have to be an
animagus like Professor McGonagall or Sirius to transform into an animal
completely. Mostly though, a metamorphmagus can make themselves look like
whoever they want - without polyjuice potion - and they’re incredibly rare...”
“Hermione’s right, Harry...” Tonks eagerly confirmed. “I oughta know... because
I’m one myself!”
“And... and you think that I’m one too?” Harry gaped incredulously at Tonks.
“You’d ‘ave to be to regrow your hair like that overnight - though you could’ve
done it in three seconds flat if you’d’ve been trying... look...”
And before their eyes, as Harry and Hermione gawked in amazement, Tonks’s spiky
purple hair lengthened and billowed into long flowing golden locks as her face
transformed until she looked like another girl entirely.
“Blimey!” gasped Harry.
“I can teach you how t’do it Harry... if you’d like,” offered Tonks. “You have
to be born with the talent, but it still takes a bit of work and practice to
figure out how to use it to its best advantage. You can even change gender if
you’re good enough...”
“When do we start?” asked Harry, grinning from ear to ear.
                                     ~o0o~
When the Potters saw Tonks the next morning waiting for them in the corridor as
they made their way to breakfast, her hair was bubble-gum pink, and she was
wearing Gryffindor robes with a badge that said Teacher’s Assistant.
“‘Plainclothes’ Undercover work and disguises is my speciality as an Auror of
course,” she said with a grin. “Easier to blend in a bit and shadow you without
drawin’ too much attention...”
“Er...” said Harry, as he and Hermione both glanced skeptically at Tonks’s
hair.
“Oh, yeah...” Tonks giggled. “Well really, if anything, that oughta make it a
bit easier for me to mix with a bunch of teenagers... Most’ll just think I’m a
recent Hogwarts graduate trainin’ to be a professor.”
And as it turned out, Tonks was correct and most just accepted her as an older
teenager doing postgraduate work. Except for the occasional glances at her
hair, the only real questions she got at the Gryffindor table were from a few
older students wondering why they hadn’t noticed her in previous years (“...I
didn’t colour my hair back then...” was her pat answer), and what professorship
she was in training for (“...as a substitute for a bit, until a permanent
position opens up. Course... I’m hoping Dumbledore starts a music programme so
I can teach you lot how to start wizard rock bands...” was an answer well
received with lots of giggles).
Harry took his first metamorphmagus lesson with Tonks after classes and his
swim practice with Hermione that afternoon. Hermione had found everything she
could in the library on metamorphmagi and piled it into her bookbag, making
certain that she had plenty of extra parchment, ink, and quills to take notes.
Harry raised his eyebrows when he saw Hermione’s preparations, peering at her
with bemusement.
“Er... anyone would think that you’re the one taking metamorphmagus lessons,
Hermione,” said Harry with a puzzled grin. Hemione blushed slightly, then
turned and gave Harry The Look.
“You don’t think that I would miss learning about something, just because I
can’t do it myself, do you?” she responded a bit haughtily.
Harry turned pink himself, and looked chastened.
“No... No, of course not! I’m sorry Hermione, I don’t know what I was
thinking,” he said quickly. “Of course we’re taking all of our lessons
together.”
Hermione’s features softened and she gave him a quick kiss. “It’s alright
Harry. Besides, I’ll be able to take notes while you keep your focus on the
practical aspects.”
And as Hermione was the only one with any experience swimming, she was the one
to ask the Room of Requirement for a swimming pool when they reached the
tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry was very impressed with the heated pool,
not to mention quite happy to see Hermione in a bikini again... and quite
embarrassed when he had to adjust his swimming trunks.
Hermione grinned when she saw his goofy flustered expression, secretly pleased
that Harry was still easily abashed by the sight of her less than fully
clothed. She found Harry’s shyness about such things to be one of his very
endearing qualities.
Harry turned out to be a quick study - as with quidditch, dancing, and the
basic fighting techniques that Professor Moody and Tonks had begun teaching
them both the previous afternoon, Harry picked up the basics of swimming
rapidly and with ease once he got over his initial nervousness. Hermione was
certain that he would outstrip her own skills within a matter of weeks; which
was good, because the Second Task was now less than two months away.
They were both startled when Tonks suddenly appeared while they were in the
middle of a giggly water-fight, having lost track of the time. Hermione
reddened and felt herself growing a bit warmer when she recognised the eagerly
appraising glance that Tonks gave her, so much like the one that Fleur had
given her when she had offered up the secret of the Golden Egg. The glance was
briefly followed by a goofy flustered expression much like Harry’s before Tonks
quickly recovered herself.
“Enjoy the nice hot water while it lasts,” chortled Tonks while Harry and
Hermione dried off after clambering out of the pool. “If I know Mad Eye, he’ll
be turning this into a mini-replica of the Black Lake in a few weeks.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” said Harry with a grin as he pulled on a
t-shirt. “He turned the Room of Requirement into a dragon arena before the
First Task.”
Tonks grinned when she spotted Hermione ready to take notes, quill in hand.
Though she was slightly disappointed that Hermione had covered up in a fluffy
bathrobe. Putting that thought aside quickly, Tonks launched into her lecture.
“Right then! Before we start, I should mention that you probably oughta keep
this to yourself Harry. Sirius thinks it’ll be safer for you the less who know
that you have this talent...”
Harry glanced at Hermione, slightly puzzled at that for a moment, but then it
hit him.
“Of course...” he gasped, “I might need to use it to avoid Voldemort...”
“...or the Ministry,” Hermione concluded, her own eyes widening as the full
value of being a metamorphmagus sank in.
“Yeah, precisely,” Tonks agreed, before going on. “Anyway, the lessons won’t
really take that long - maybe half an hour at most - as you’ll mostly be
practicin’ on your own time, Harry. But it’s very hard to control the morphing
process at first until you get used to it, so don’t be surprised if nothing
happens this lesson, alright?”
Harry nodded attentively, eager to begin.
“Now, some teachers will probably tell you to concentrate hard,” Tonks
continued. “At least mine did, but I find that’s the opposite of what you want
to do. What you really wanna do is form an image of how you want to look in
your mind, but just allow your thoughts to sort of swim around it. If you try
too hard, you’ll just push it away.
“Once you ‘ave an idea of what you want to look like, it’s all just down to a
lot of practice. It’s best to start out with something simple, like adding
colour to a fingernail... But when you want to get more complex, and change
loads of stuff, that’s when things get tricky.”
Tonks gave Harry the opportunity to attempt to change the colour of one of his
fingernails. After about ten minutes of wrinkling his nose and furrowing his
brow in deep concentration he remembered what Tonks had said about not trying
so hard. He did his best to just picture it in his head in a more relaxed state
of mind, but relaxing had never been his strong suit.
Finally, Harry thought about how he felt when he was soaring on his Firebolt or
kissing Hermione and was startled when the fingernail he was focusing on turned
the same bubble-gum pink colour of Tonks’s hair.
“Brilliant Harry!” said Tonks with a hint of awe in her voice. “Most people
supposedly take at least two lessons before they get one fingernail. I did it
in about the same time as you, but my teacher told me I was a prodigy...”
Hermione beamed at Harry and gave him a hug.
“It’ll stay that way until you undo it Harry,” said Tonks, “but to undo it is
much easier as your body will always want to revert to its natural form. All
you really ‘ave to do is just want it to go back to normal...
“Just practice that for a couple of days. If you can manage to change one
fingernail within a few seconds, try two, and then three, and so on, until you
can manage to do ‘em all in a few seconds. Don’t try anything more advanced
just yet, unless I’m around, alright? Promise me...”
“Yeah, okay Tonks... I promise,” Harry reluctantly agreed. Hermione raised her
hand.
“I’m not a Professor, Hermione, but alright,” Tonks giggled. “What’s your
question?”
“I was just thinking about transfiguring parts of the anatomy to animal forms,
and I was wondering how functional some of the parts might be,” asked Hermione.
“Well, that’s a bit far ahead,” Tonks replied, “but really, it all depends on
how good the metamorphmagus is. A really good one can picture the internal
structure necessary for functionality if they ‘ave access to a good image of
how the cells all work. I suppose I could manage it if I gave it a go, but I’ve
never really bothered with that myself.
“You’d ‘ave to be really brilliant at imaging it in your head, and be able to
follow complicated diagrams. That goes for changin’ human gender too. It’s all
cosmetic and superficial unless you can visualise all the internal bits.”
“So what was that all about?” Harry asked Hermione after they had returned to
their quarters to get ready for dinner.
“Well... I was thinking about how you might be able to breathe underwater,
Harry. At first I thought of Gillyweed, but there’s really no guarantee that it
will last long enough for you to complete the task - it all depends on how much
you eat, and the potency. So then I thought that perhaps you could actually use
your metamorphmagus abilities to develop functioning gills...
“It might be difficult, but well worth it - as you would be able to use either
your lungs or gills as needed without having to worry about one interfering
with the other, or having to worry about whether your gills would last for a
long enough time... or for too long - which could happen if you had too much
Gillyweed.”
“That’s brilliant Hermione!” Harry exclaimed excitedly, beaming at his genius
wife. “But what about you though? You won’t be able to breathe underwater...”
“I’m not sure,” Hermione admitted ruefully. “I’ve looked through some of the
books in the library, but I haven’t found anything else yet... but there must
be something - some sort of charm...
“I’ll keep looking though,” she sighed. “In the meantime, we’d probably better
study the physical appearance and the effects of Gillyweed anyway. Because if
you’re going to keep being a metamorphmagus a secret, you’ll have to make it
look like you’re using Gillyweed for the task.”
“That makes sense.” Harry nodded. “There’s another Hogsmeade Day coming up. We
can buy some Gillyweed in the apothecary in the village. And as soon as Tonks
thinks I’m ready enough, I can start practicing that...”
                                     ~o0o~
The next week flew by in a blur of activity, and Harry found that he was as
busy as he had ever been at Hogwarts, even without a full quidditch schedule or
studying for exams. But he hardly noticed as his excitement at the prospect of
reaching his full potential as a metamorphmagus was only matched by his
happiness at being able to return to his private chambers every night with
Hermione.
Professor Moody was pleased to hear that Harry had a plan for breathing
underwater at their next session, and with the assistance of Tonks he began
training the Potters how to fight and cast spells underwater in the pool. Tonks
was thrilled with Harry’s progress when he showed up with Hermione at his next
metamorphmagus lesson, all of his fingernails - and toenails too - every colour
of the rainbow.
Harry was ready to move on to changing hair colour and skin tone as well, and
then putting it all together. By the end of his second lesson, he’d managed to
make himself as blond as Malfoy.
“Don’t forget to change your eyebrows too though,” Hermione giggled as she
ruffled Harry’s platinum moptop. “You look really funny with light hair and
dark eyebrows...”
The only thing that really marred the first week was the continued absence of
Hagrid. Harry was hopeful that he’d find Hagrid in the village on Hogsmeade
Day, and would be able to convince him to return.
When Saturday arrived, the Potters left the castle and set off through the
snow-covered grounds towards Hogsmeade. Tonks walked on ahead of them and kept
her eyes peeled. Harry and Hermione both waved and grinned at Viktor Krum when
they passed by the Black Lake. Dressed only in swimming trunks, Viktor waved
back, then dove from the side of the Durmstrang ship into the frigid waters of
the lake.
“Blimey! He’s bloody mad!” said Harry, his breath clouding in the freezing air.
“There’s still ice over half the lake...”
“It’s probably warmer than where he’s from,” Hermione giggled. “Or at least
warmer than wherever Durmstrang is located. I think it must be very far
north...”
“Yeah... but there’s still the giant squid if we’re lucky,” said a familiar,
rather hopeful sounding voice behind them, followed by a familiar sounding
snigger.
Harry and Hermione whirled around and spotted Ron and Seamus trailing behind
them. Harry scowled and Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Just ignore them,” she said. “They’re just jealous because you’re Viktor’s
friend, and because Lavender’s going out with him.”
Harry huffed angrily and began to walk a bit faster, trying to put some
distance between him and Ron. He’d almost hoped the other day in Care of
Magical Creatures that he might be able to patch things up with Ron eventually,
but apparently Ron was still too bloody self-absorbed to put much effort in
from his end of things. Hermione trotted along beside Harry, trying to keep up.
Once in the village, Harry and Hermione made a beeline for the local
apothecary, where Harry bought a substantial amount of Gillyweed. Not only for
Harry’s practice though; they still hadn’t found anything else in the library
which would allow Hermione to breathe underwater, and they had decided that she
should keep a small pouch of it just in case she needed it.
They stopped for a bit in Honeydukes and Harry stocked up on some of their
favourite sweets. In Zonko’s they spotted Fred and George whispering and taking
notes; Neville and Dean were hanging out together nearby, seeming strangely
listless. For a moment, Hermione thought that she and Harry had lost their
“secret escort” Tonks as they made their way to Tomes and Scrolls for a browse;
but when Tonks reappeared, scurrying breathlessly beside them with a bag of
Zonko’s products, Hermione giggled.
“Don’t you dare tell Filch,” Tonks hissed under her breath. Harry chortled at
the idea of an Auror sneaking a bagful of banned items into Hogwarts.
Tonks hovered near the front of the bookshop, flicking through comics while
Harry and Hermione had a good look around. Harry found an intriguing looking
book about Asian monsters and magical creatures written by a Japanese wizard.
It had information on several creatures including Yeti and Kappa which seemed
to directly contradict Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but it was much
more detailed and Harry reckoned that a Japanese wizard probably ought to know
a lot more about Asian monsters than someone from England.
He was puzzled by the Seventeen and Over warning on the cover, but he ignored
it and put it in his shopping basket. Wondering what Wizard fairy tales would
be like, Harry sidled into the children’s section where he found a book that
looked like just the thing: The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Into the basket it
went, next to the book of Asian monsters.
Harry heard a squeak of happiness and looked up to see Hermione squeezing into
the narrow aisle to find him.
“Look Harry - I found something that will work in this book...”
“Er... hang on - it’s in French,” said Harry, grinning at Hermione’s
excitement.
“Oh... right! Sorry!” Hermione turned a bit pink. “It’s got some newer spells
that don’t seem to have made it into the Hogwarts syllabus yet. There’s a spell
in here that translates more or less into ‘Bubble-Head Charm.’ It’s perfect for
breathing under water, Harry!
“Well, perfect for me at least...” Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper.
“You should probably stick with the plan though - the flippers will make
swimming much easier and faster...”
“Excellent! ... Bung the book in the basket then, and I’ll buy it for us,”
Harry responded eagerly. “Maybe you can translate some of the other spells as
well, so that I can learn them too.”
“Of course I will Harry,” Hermione beamed.
The shopkeeper gave Harry an odd look when he rang up the book of Asian
monsters and checked Harry’s wand on his scale, muttering something that
sounded like “emancipated and married at your age?” under his breath and
shaking his head. Harry, his face flushed with irritation, stood with Hermione
and waited for a few more moments near the door while Tonks purchased a small
stack of comics and glared at the shopkeeper as he rang her up.
“You know, you two really aren’t the youngest who’ve ever got married,” Tonks
muttered once they were outside the shop. “Back in the old days, some folk even
got married as young as twelve and thirteen - when hitting puberty used to be
considered the age of adulthood. Bein’ a teenager is a relatively modern
invention...”
“It’s weird, I thought more students at Hogwarts would be having a go at me and
Hermione,” said Harry, “but it seems like it’s mostly the grown-ups that get
fussed about us being emancipated and married.”
“That’s because when you’re a teenager you want to be treated like an adult,
and when you’re a grown-up, you want to forget what it’s like bein’ a
teenager,” said Tonks wisely. “Me... I don’t care... I’m still just a teen at
heart anyway.”
Tonks commiserated with the Potters for a few more minutes when a shop caught
her eye. She whispered something in Hermione’s ear. Hermione reddened and
giggled.
“I’ll be right back Harry,” said Hermione with a shy grin as Tonks led her
towards the shop.
Puzzled, Harry looked up at the name of the shop on the sign - Dezzie’s
Delicates - and turned pink when he realised what they’d gone in to have a look
at. Hermione was blushing furiously when she came back out of the shop
clutching a bag, and couldn’t meet Harry’s eye for a while.
The Potters both kept an eye out for Hagrid as they made their way through more
shops - even the wizard supermarket - without any luck. Harry and Hermione
eventually found themselves in the Three Broomsticks for lunch. Hagrid wasn’t
there either, but Lavender and Parvati were. They both gave Harry and Hermione
warm hugs and invited them to lunch together.
Luna and Ginny, who were having a “girls’ day out,” waved at them from a table
nearby where they were sitting and giggling. Harry grinned back at the two
third year girls, now understanding why Neville and Dean had both seemed a bit
put out when he’d seen them hanging out together in Zonko’s.
Tonks pulled up a seat at the bar and kept watch; her eyes narrowed when she
spotted Rita Skeeter and her photographer ogling the Potters from the other end
of the bar. Tonks spied Ludo Bagman in a shadowy corner of the pub with a load
of goblins and rolled her eyes, knowing that he was either paying off a
gambling debt, or putting a new bet down, or both at the same time.
Hermione had spotted Ludo Bagman too, and pointed him out to Harry. Bagman
seemed to have just noticed that Harry was in the pub as well; he gave Harry a
shady looking smirk as he pushed a bag full of something which clinked and
jangled towards the goblins.
Bagman’s attention was caught by a pair of redheads who had just entered the
pub. He sighed.
“Er... sorry about that business with the Leprechaun Gold at the World Cup,
lads,” Bagman said quietly to the Weasley Twins as the satisfied goblins left
the table. “My mistake... got it mixed up with my own... Here you go then, this
should cover it...”
Fred goggled at George in happy surprise when Bagman shoved a bag of heavy
coins into his hand and hurried quickly out of the Three Broomsticks before
anyone else could try and collect from him. Harry grinned and gave the Twins a
thumbs-up, having overheard the exchange. Lavender and Parvati giggled when
Hermione gave the Twins a half-smile and shook her head. Hermione was glad that
Fred and George had got their due, but felt that they’d been a bit reckless to
gamble their entire life-savings to begin with.
The grin slid from Harry’s face when the flash of a camera went off after the
Weasley Twins had departed. When she saw who it was, Hermione turned livid.
“My, my, my, what a happy looking little gathering,” beamed Rita Skeeter, her
eyes hungrily devouring the delicious scene of Harry sitting at a table with
three girls.
Lavender and Parvati both shot daggers with their eyes at Skeeter. Hermione
glared as the heavily made up reporter approached the table and Harry shot up
from his chair furiously.
“Come to make more trouble, have you?” Harry snarled. “Why can’t you just leave
us all alone!”
“You horrid woman!” Hermione shrilly snapped as she stood up next to Harry,
trembling with rage. “You’ll do anything for a story! It was bad enough that
you went after Harry and me, but what did Hagrid and Lupin ever do to you?”
The whole pub was watching in silence now; Rosmerta stood behind the bar
absentmindedly wiping a glass. Lavender and Parvati shrank back in their
chairs.
“Now, now, deary,” said Skeeter, her voice hardening as her eyes glittered
icily behind her bejeweled spectacles, “You shouldn’t talk about things a silly
little muggleborn can’t possibly understand. It’s nothing personal - just a
matter of looking after the public interest...”
“And what ‘public interest’ are you serving right now then? We’re just trying
to have some lunch in a pub!” Hermione fumed.
Rita Skeeter’s eyes darted towards Harry and she smirked at him nastily.
“Come along,” she said to her photographer, tugging on his sleeve. “We’ve got
enough for now.”
As she turned to leave, Rita Skeeter stumbled and fell to the floor with a
shriek. She peered angrily at her broken scarlet fingernail. Skeeter’s
photographer helped her to her feet and she whirled around, glowering at the
Potters and their friends, looking for signs of a wand.
Harry looked back at Rita innocently and she stormed out of the pub. Tonks
winked at Harry from the bar and surreptitiously slid her wand back into the
sleeve of her parka.
“Sorry about all that,” said Harry, flushing guiltily at Parvati and Lavender
who both still looked a bit frightened. “I can’t seem to avoid attracting
attention...”
“It’s not your fault Harry,” Parvati said quickly. “You don’t have to
apologise.”
“Rita Skeeter’s just absolutely horrible!” Lavender added with a firm nod.
Hermione looked as angry as Harry had ever seen her as they walked back up to
the castle, perhaps as enraged as the time she’d broken Malfoy’s nose, or the
time she’d lit into Ron after he’d gloated about Moody killing the spider.
Harry was still furious himself - the way Rita Skeeter had sneered the word
“muggleborn” at Hermione, she might as well have called her a Mudblood - but
Harry’s anger was tempered by his feelings of guilt for having drawn Skeeter’s
attention to begin with.
Hermione had had enough. She marched through the snow up to Hagrid’s cabin and
began hammering on the door with both of her gloved little fists. Icicles fell
from the eaves as the hut shook.
“HAGRID!” she bellowed as Fang barked from the other side. “COME OUT! ... WE
KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! ... WE DON’T CARE IF YOUR MUM WAS A GIANTESS! WE’RE YOUR
FRIENDS! ... YOU CAN’T LET THAT LOATHSOME WOMAN DO THIS TO YOU! GET OUT HERE
RIGHT NOW AND STAND UP FOR YOURSELF...”
The door of Hagrid’s cabin swung open with a creak and Hermione tumbled
backwards into Harry’s arms, shock and embarrassment all over her face at the
sight of Dumbledore’s serene features gazing down at her...
                                     ~o0o~
Harry leaned back against the side of the marble bathtub, breathing in the
soothing fragrance of the perfumed bath-oils and sighing in contentment as
Hermione leaned back against him in his arms, foam and bubbles swirling around
them as steam rose from the hot water. They both felt much better as the heat
penetrated their bodies and their knotted muscles began to unwind.
The Potters had both been cheered that Dumbledore had refused to accept
Hagrid’s resignation, and that Hagrid had finally relented and tearfully agreed
to return to work after they both impressed on the half-giant how much they had
missed him. But they were both still as tense as could be after they’d departed
from Hagrid’s cabin.
Hermione had suggested a nice hot soak in the tub together, and Harry had
readily agreed. But apparently Hermione had some other ideas for stress relief
on her mind as well, and soon the kisses and caresses had become as steamy as
the atmosphere in the bathroom. One thing had led to another, and washing each
other’s backs had led to a watery romp when Hermione reached between Harry’s
legs to “wash” his stiffening erection.
Dripping locks of tawny hair clung to Hermione’s face as she giggled when Harry
turned around to return the favour and began to playfully squeeze her breasts
in the name of soaping them, gently tugging on her nipples with one hand while
his other hand slid between her thighs. Then Harry grinned at her and reached
for a pouch sitting on the tray next to the marble bathtub.
“Hmmm... this looks like a perfect opportunity to test a little bit of this
out,” he said impishly, as a surge of boldness came over him.
“Wait... what are you planning on doing with that, Harry?” Puzzlement crossed
Hermione’s features when Harry took a tiny little pinch of Gillyweed from the
pouch.
“You’ll see...” Harry grinned again as he stuffed the pinch of Gillyweed into
his mouth and his head dropped beneath the foam and bubbles.
Hermione gasped when she felt her impetuous husband’s kisses trailing up her
inner thighs as he gently pushed them apart. She bit her lip and moaned,
quivering with elation when she felt Harry’s lips pressed against her twitching
entrance, and his tongue seeking out the fleshy pearl hidden in her fold.
For nearly ten minutes Hermione writhed and splashed, emitting little squeaks
of joy as Harry continued to lavish his fervent attention on her slippery
sheath with his tongue without coming up once for air.
“Harry!” she squealed, her thighs gripping his head as the cascading ripples of
pleasure took her.
Finally Harry’s drenched, grinning head emerged from the water as his gills
receded. Hermione was still trembling in the throes of bliss when Harry slid
his length inside her, and the frothing water churned as he proceeded to rock
her to climax again and again.
A squall of euphoria tipped Harry into the abyss of ecstasy as Hermione’s
clenching tightness gripped his plummeting lance. Surging bathwater spilled
over the side of the tub and sparks of magic flew when Harry erupted, spilling
his essence into Hermione’s depths.
Hermione showered her wet husband with little kisses as the tide of passion
gradually ebbed, taking the tension of the day with it. She settled into
Harry’s arms peaceably with a happy little sigh as he lay back against the side
of the tub.
Dazed as they both were in that moment, neither one of them noticed the ghostly
head of a bespectacled teenage girl slipping back through the marble tiles of
the bathroom wall.
***** Chapter 30: The Turn of the Worm: Part 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning for this chapter: Trigger warning
Despite a bit of a rough night for poor Harry and having woken to comfort him
several times when the nightmares took him, Hermione was awake early the
following morning. She lay facing her husband, watching his gentle features and
listening to his peaceful breathing as he slept. The clock ticked on and
breakfast time drew nearer. Hermione could hardly bear the thought of waking
Harry and seeing his face taut with angst once more.
A crest in the blankets caught Hermione’s attention out of the corner of her
eye, and a sudden naughty idea came over her. She’d never tried it before,
though Harry had pleased her more than once in such a manner. Hermione thought
that it was perhaps long past time to reciprocate, and surely Harry’s morning
would be off to a good start.
Hermione gulped nervously as she continued to consider her plan. Then, before
she could change her mind, she burrowed under the covers head first.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry drifted along peaceably, swathed in a blank fog of oblivion which was
much preferable to the intensely disturbing content of his dreams. But a
delicious feeling asserted itself, and the exceedingly pleasurable images which
arose were bathed in a luminous silvery glow, accompanied by recognisable
whiffs of mint and parchment.
As his eyes fluttered open, Harry thought he might still be dreaming when he
realised that he was as warm as could be, despite the fact that the covers had
fallen away. The sight of bushy golden-brown hair strewn across his abdomen and
the moist warm sensation which encapsulated his morning stiffness was also an
indication that he must still be asleep and having one of the best dreams
imaginable.
But Harry began to wonder when the golden locks fell away from Hermione’s face
as her head bobbed up and the lips wrapped around his erection drew back
towards the tip. Dream or not, Harry couldn’t get over the heavenly feeling as
Hermione continued to suck and swirl her tongue around his shaft. He began to
lose himself to the cascading ripples of ecstasy.
Unable to help himself, Harry jerked and groaned, releasing himself into
Hermione’s mouth. Hermione’s eyes grew big and round as her mouth filled with
Harry’s stickiness. She gasped as she pulled away from the still erupting
penis.
In utter shock, Harry peered at Hermione as he jerked several more times,
strands and gobs of his essence landing across her crimson cheeks and trickling
from her lips.
“Hermione,” he gasped and sputtered as she bravely swallowed what was still in
her mouth, “I’m so sorry... I thought... you... I was dreaming...” Harry was
stunned when Hermione grinned at him.
“Don’t be sorry Harry,” she giggled nervously, still looking mightily
embarrassed, not quite meeting his eyes. “I knew what would happen eventually.
It’s only fair - you’ve done the same for me after all - and I wanted to - for
fun - and... and I just thought it would be nicer than waking to an alarm
clock...” Hermione trailed off as she looked for a hanky to wipe her dripping
face, glancing at Harry anxiously.
“It... it was alright, wasn’t it?” she beseeched.
“Er... yeah!” said Harry, breaking into a broad grin. “It was brilliant! I
loved every bit of it. Much better than an alarm clock!”
Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief and beamed at Harry, a wicked gleam in
her eyes.
“Oh good!” she said, “Because I mean to practice that a lot more until I get it
perfect, Harry.”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry and Hermione were both yawning when they met Dora in the corridor on the
way to breakfast. Dora was slightly puzzled, as the Potters seemed in much
better spirits than she thought they might be if they’d been woken by Harry’s
nightmares.
“Er... Did you two get enough sleep?” asked Dora sympathetically.
When Hermione turned slightly pink and Harry glanced away, Dora did her best to
hide a little smirk, guessing that Hermione had thought of creative ways to
comfort Harry.
At breakfast, Harry and Hermione ignored the letters which arrived by owl post.
Many of the letters which had been arriving since the Witch Weekly article had
been rather rude and nasty. Though quite a number of young women and even a few
young men had sent exceedingly friendly letters along with very racy pictures
of themselves - many of them nudes - which had made the Potters both blush
furiously.
Still yawning, Hermione tried coffee for the first time in her life when Harry
introduced her to it. Her face crinkled in disgust, not noticing when Seamus
fished some of the unopened envelopes from across the table.
“Urgh... that’s revolting Harry. How do people drink this?” she asked.
“It’s an acquired taste... usually acquired due to necessity like now, when tea
just isn’t strong enough to do the job,” Harry replied with a grin. “I had to
make Uncle Vernon’s coffee every morning - he usually took it black. And yeah,
it’s horrible like that.”
“You need sugar and cream, Hermione.” Harry added several heaping spoonfuls of
sugar and a lot of cream. Hermione took another sip
“Oh, that’s much better... Thanks Harry.”
“Yeah, with enough sugar and cream, it’s alright. It’s a bit like chocolate in
that way... cocoa is horrid until you add the sugar and milk.”
Hermione looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t know. I love chocolate. But I try
not to eat too much because, you know... dentist parents!”
“You love MILK chocolate,” insisted Harry. “Have you ever tried a proper dark
chocolate?”
Hermione shook her head.
“It’s very bitter without the milk...” he added.
Hermione’s ears pricked attentively; Lavender, Parvati and Neville also
listened in while Harry told them about baking with cocoa and how to make it
taste nice as they finished breakfast. Harry had never really talked much about
cooking for the Dursleys before, and Hermione began to understand why Harry was
so good at potions when people just left him alone. Ron and Seamus both looked
across the table at Harry with great interest to hear him talk about making
food.
“Yeah, I used to help Aunt Petunia make breakfast and dinner every day,” Harry
told Ron when he asked. “I actually didn’t mind helping with that - it was
better than washing Uncle Vernon’s car or washing his underwear and doing all
their cleaning...”
It was pleasant being friendly with Ron again, and Care of Magical Creatures
had been much better now that Draco Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle were no longer
taking it. Hagrid introduced the class to some fluffy black creatures with
spade-like feet and long snouts which looked a bit like anteaters to Harry.
“Righ’ then,” said Hagrid, “These’re Nifflers - clever little creatures and
jolly useful little treasure detectors they are. Yeh find ‘em down mines
mostly. An’ watch out for yer valuables - they like sparkly stuff...”
Sure enough, Pansy Parkinson gave a little shriek as one leapt and tried to
gnaw her bracelet off her wrist. But she calmed down when she realised that it
was more cuddly than dangerous. Ron’s interest was piqued when Hagrid went on.
“Anyway, I’ve buried a load o’ Leprechaun Gold an’ there’s a prize for the one
whose niffler digs up the most coins. Don’ bother keepin’ the gold though,
it’ll disappear after a bit...”
Ron ended up with an enormous bar of chocolate when his Niffler dug up the most
gold coins. He was a bit disappointed that it was only Leprechaun Gold, but he
happily shared his chocolate with Seamus and offered some to whoever else
wanted a bit. Ron seemed relieved when Hermione gratefully ate a piece of the
chocolate, as if her acceptance was the seal of approval for a somewhat
repaired friendship with Harry.
Harry nearly spat his piece of chocolate out laughing when he spotted Seamus
gawking at one of the steamy photos that had obviously come in one of the
envelopes he’d nicked at breakfast. Ron peered over Seamus’s shoulder, his eyes
boggling at the picture of the naked girl.
“Blimey - she’s a real looker, that one is,” Ron muttered.
“Ye got that right mate,” Seamus agreed.
Neville glanced at the photo quickly, then turned beet red and looked away.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smirking a bit at Ron’s
gormless expression. Seamus hurriedly shoved the picture back in his robes when
Hagrid wandered over.
“What yeh got there Seamus?” asked Hagrid curiously
“Er... nuthin’...” Seamus mumbled, turning scarlet.
“It’s just a silly picture which came in the post,” said Hermione quickly to
save Seamus from trouble. “At least it’s better than the horrible letters some
people have been sending me and Harry since that stupid article Rita Skeeter
wrote about our supposed ‘harem’ for Witch Weekly.”
“Aaah! Righ’...” said Hagrid sympathetically, “got some of ‘em letters meself
after she wrote that one abou’ me an’ Lupin... Load a ruddy nutters. Yeh
oughter just chuck the lot in the fire...”
“Well, we’re just ignoring them now,” Harry said with a grin.
“What I can’t work out is how that disgusting woman keeps getting onto the
grounds to do interviews,” Hermione fumed. “She can’t be apparating into
Hogwarts, and everyone’s being checked for polyjuice potion at the moment.”
“Maybe she’s a metamorphmagus,” suggested Ron. Hermione raised her eyebrows in
surprise at his sensible idea. Harry turned a bit pink.
“They’re really rare though,” said Neville, “rarer than animagi.”
“Hmmm... animagus,” Hermione muttered, frowning pensively. “I wonder...”
“Well, we can think about it a bit more while we’re exercising Hermione...”
Harry rubbed his forehead, looking slightly agitated. “We haven’t done any
calisthenics for a couple of days, and I could use a run right now - especially
as it’s nice outside again...”
                                     ~o0o~
Draco Malfoy seemed lost in his own little world, brooding as he strolled
through the grounds with several of his friends. His father had seemed agitated
for the last day or so, and had told him to keep a close eye on Crabbe and
Goyle, and to report if they said anything odd. But his father hadn’t told him
why yet, and Draco hated it when his father wouldn’t let him in on all the
details of his plans straight away. The voice of one of Draco’s friends cut
through his rumination.
“I overheard a Hufflepuff close to Diggory saying that Potter fought off a sea-
serpent,” said Theodore Nott with a slight hint of awe in his voice. “D’you
think that’s true Draco?”
“How the hell should I know, Theo?” snapped Draco, wishing that everyone would
just shut up about bloody Potter and the Triwizard Tournament.
Even half of Slytherin seemed obsessed with Potter - especially many of the
girls. Draco was beginning to wish that he and Pansy and Millicent hadn’t done
that stupid interview with Rita Skeeter.
“I just thought... Your father - being friends with the Minister...” Nott
trailed off nervously, seeing the look on Draco’s face.
It had been nearly a week since the Second Task, and Draco Malfoy still
couldn’t get over the fact that Potter had survived yet again. Though Draco
wasn’t privy to the details, he knew that his father and the Minister had
planned something a bit extra for Potter alone to ensure his demise, but
somehow Potter kept getting lucky. There was no other explanation.
Draco kicked a rock and sent it skittering as he tried to mollify himself with
the knowledge that his own practice with the Unforgivables was coming along
nicely. If Potter managed to make it through this tournament alive despite all,
Draco would simply have to get him and the Mudblood alone somehow and settle
things once and for all himself.
“Oi, Draco... over there!” hissed Nott, “Look who it is.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed when he spied Greengrass sitting alone on the steps near
the boathouse, a ball of fury burning in his gut. She had made him look bad in
front of Potter and that French bitch.
It stung even more as he recalled how Daphne had turned down his generous offer
to take her to the Yule Ball, saying that it would upset Pansy. But Draco was
no longer so interested in Pansy, with that pug nose of hers; now that he was
older, he knew he deserved a Pureblood as good-looking as himself. Draco had
then tried to ask the French slag to the Ball, but she’d blown him off with a
look that suggested she thought him lower than a sea-slug.
Glancing around the grounds, Draco assured himself that there were no witnesses
this time - other than his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, and his friend Theo, who
was always game for anything. People almost never came down to the boathouse
during the week. It was time to teach Greengrass a lesson.
                                     ~o0o~
Wormtail was beside himself, giddy with glee, drunk on his newfound
empowerment. For the first time in his life he felt truly respected. He could
have gone anywhere after vanishing into the night when he’d escaped Snivellus’s
greasy clutches, forged a new life for himself in another country if he’d
wanted to.
But Wormtail was more certain than ever that his decision to seek out the Dark
Lord and restore him to full strength was the best one he’d made since turning
against his so-called friends and that old coot Dumbledore thirteen years ago.
The Professors at Hogwarts, especially McGonagall, had always made him feel
inadequate. Just because Wormtail valued fun more than he valued homework
didn’t mean that he was inept. He had always managed to pull out Acceptables
and a few Exceeds Expectations at the last minute. It hadn’t been Wormtail’s
fault that schoolwork was boring.
Padfoot had never really appreciated him; he was always mocking Wormtail’s hero
worship of Prongs and treating him as an inferior. Wormtail had always
suspected that Padfoot only tolerated him because he was James’s friend.
And Prongs, though he had always seemed happy to have Wormtail’s admiration,
Wormtail wanted more than James's appreciation. He wanted what James had.
James had always seemed to be able to afford to buy the nicest things and the
best snacks from the food trolley on the Hogwarts Express. Everything Wormtail
owned was rubbish and all he had were mouldy homemade sandwiches; his parents
could barely afford his schoolbooks and his wand.
And James was everything that Wormtail wanted to be. James had been famous for
his natural abilities as a Quidditch Player, and he’d always been top of every
class without seeming to even break a sweat. And James always got the girls -
except for Lily Evans who thought James was an arrogant bullying prat for
hexing that greasy swotter, Snivellus Snape, the one who always had his head
buried in a book about potions or dark arts. Of course Evans was never around
to see what Snape and his mates got up to. If she had only known.
Prongs and Padfoot had been notorious pranksters, beloved by all. Even the
Professors had seemed to smile indulgently at those two while doling out the
detentions; meanwhile shaking their heads sadly at Wormtail, as if he would
amount to nothing.
Then somehow, in sixth year, Prongs had settled down and swallowed his pride.
He was “turning over a new leaf.” Those had been Potter’s own words when he had
angrily dressed Sirius down for his nearly deadly “pranking” of Snivellus
Snape, and Lily Evans had overheard the shouting match.
Wormtail flushed jealously again as he remembered how the girl he had always
daydreamed of the most while wanking had quickly fallen for James after
realising that James had grown up finally, saving Lily's once best friend from
certain death.
Sirius had eventually calmed down after his fight with James, agreeing that he
had stepped over a line which should never have been crossed. He had apologised
profusely to James, and then also apologised even more abjectly to Snivellus.
Sirius too, “turned over a new leaf” that year, and he had even apologised to
Wormtail.
But things had never been quite the same between any of them after that.
Despite James’s claims of friendship and loyalty, Wormtail knew that James had
sensed Wormtail’s desires for Lily and kept him at arm’s length after she had
become his girlfriend, and later his wife. And Sirius and Remus had grown much
closer to each other, though they were careful not to advertise their
affections for one another and Sirius had continued to date girls on occasion.
Wormtail was the odd one out.
After Hogwarts, the Marauders had joined the battle against the Dark Lord’s
reign of terror. But Wormtail had always known it was a futile endeavour. The
Dark Lord was Superior in every conceivable way. Not even Dumbledore could stop
him.
Nearly from the beginning, Wormtail had come to understand that he was on the
wrong side. Under the Dark Lord’s rule, Wormtail would no longer have to put up
with being the useless, pathetic sidekick. He could have all the gold and women
he wanted - even Lily as the spoils of war if he so chose. Lily had been
nothing... a Mudblood. She would beg to be one of Wormtail’s whores after James
was dead, he had thought at the time; she was clearly long shot of Snivellus.
Wormtail had hoped, but he hadn’t been able to believe his luck when Padfoot
had bought his offer to be Secret Keeper. Sirius had foolishly insisted to
James that Peter should be the Potters’ Secret Keeper, and James had naively
accepted. The Dark Lord had rewarded Wormtail handsomely for his services and
made him a Death Eater when Wormtail had presented him with the opportunity to
capture or kill the Potters.
That had been Wormtail’s chance to finally get the Glory, Women, and Gold that
he so richly deserved. And if Lily were foolish enough to stand in the Dark
Lord's way, what did it matter! There would be plenty of other mudblood slags
who would beg to have Wormtail if they wanted access to wands under the Dark
Lord’s Rule - and Wormtail could take any muggle girl he wanted at any time
without fear of retribution from the Law.
Then everything had gone to hell when the Potter Brat had apparently killed the
Dark Lord in some sort of outburst of Accidental Magic. Terrified that he would
be caught at the scene, Wormtail had fled with his Master’s wand and hidden it
before framing Padfoot as the Potters' betrayer.
Wormtail had then sought out a suitable home in which he could hide
undiscovered as a Rat, and had come to find much food and solace in the House
of Molly, as the pet of one of her many sons, Percy Weasley. For many years
Wormtail grew fat, and reveled in his access to the comforts of Hogwarts, right
under the unwitting nose of the Cat Mistress of Gryffindor - Minerva
McGonagall. The irony was not lost on Wormtail. Ineptitude indeed; Wormtail had
shown her the true meaning of the word.
But it was only when Wormtail had returned to Hogwarts as Ronald Bilius
Weasley’s pet, that Wormtail had come to learn that the Dark Lord still lived
on after a fashion.
It didn’t surprise Wormtail that the Potter Brat had chosen a Brainy Mudblood
as his father had. She had many of Lily’s qualities, including an innocent,
natural beauty - though she looked nothing like Lily. Wormtail had felt the
stirrings of jealousy once again as he watched the Potter boy’s relationship
with the girl unfold.
When the Potter scion and his own mudblood whore had helped Padfoot, Moony, and
Snivellus uncover his true identity, Wormtail had decided to take it as a sign
that the time was ripe to find his Master and return him to Power.
And now, it was all paying off. Wormtail grinned at himself in the mirror as he
adjusted his robes. Tonight, with MacNair and Avery as his bodyguards, Wormtail
would offer the Werewolf what he had wanted the last time around, a chance to
be a Death Eater. And when Fenrir Greyback accepted, Wormtail, as the Dark
Lord’s Second, would have a Lycan Pack at his disposal.
                                     ~o0o~
“Oi, Greengrass...!”
Daphne looked up, startled to see Draco Malfoy and his goon-squad approaching.
She cursed inwardly and shivered, wondering why Draco and his father couldn’t
let well enough alone.
“Go away Draco!” she snapped with as much courage as she could muster. “I want
to be by myself, and I told you to stay away from me.”
“What’s the matter Daphne?” sneered Malfoy as he drew uncomfortably close, “Is
that any way to treat your future husband?”
“Stop it! Don’t touch me or I’ll scream...”
“Now, now!” said Draco unctuously, “You wouldn’t want Theo to hex you, would
you?”
Daphne shivered again and gulped, seeing that Nott already had his wand out.
“You... you wouldn’t dare...” she muttered nervously, her own hand twitching
towards her wand.
“Just try it,” hissed Draco, stepping even closer and grabbing her wrist, “and
I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Don’t you see how nice I’m being? I just
thought we should get to know each other a bit more... intimately before we get
married...”
Tears rolled down Daphne’s cheeks when Draco’s other hand snaked around her
waist and drew her right up against him. Crabbe and Goyle chortled as Nott
leered at her.
“I... I’m n...never marrying you - you c...creep,” she whimpered through
chattering teeth. “M...my dad said he t...turned down your father’s offer
flat...”
“Don’t be like that Daphne! We could be so good together!” Draco whispered,
pressing his lips against Daphne’s and slipping his hand under her skirt. “But
if not, you can just have a bit of fun with the lot of us right now... and then
I’ll leave you alone for good...”
Daphne sobbed and tried to pull away as Draco stroked her inner thigh, heading
for her knickers.
“GET OFF HER MALFOY!”
Draco spun around with Daphne still tightly in his clutches, his pallid
features hardening. Nott, Crabbe and Goyle whirled around to see who had caught
them all out.
“Potter!” spat Draco, whipping out his wand. “You and your Mudblood Bitch
should keep your noses out of what doesn’t concern you.”
Hermione trembled with rage, waiting for Malfoy to make the first move, her
wand aiming right between his eyes. But Harry was livid. He was done playing
games with Malfoy. Without a word or a second thought, a red bolt of magic flew
from Harry’s wand and struck Malfoy in the chest.
Draco collapsed to the ground, out like a light. Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle turned
around and ran for it, as fast their feet could carry them, terrified that they
might be next. Daphne stood stock still, as frozen as a statue for a moment,
before it sunk in what had just occurred.
The Potters were both stunned when Daphne suddenly flung herself on Hermione,
sobbing. Hermione held the weeping blonde girl, gently rubbing her back.
“It’s alright Daphne!” she murmured, “It's alright now!”
Dora finally reached the Potters, out of breath. She had been jogging at a
distance behind them, keeping an eye peeled.
“I saw everything!” she gasped. “You lot alright?”
“Yeah!” growled Harry, “But I think Malfoy will have a bit of a headache when
he wakes up...”
                                     ~o0o~
Dumbledore had no twinkles or sparkles in his eyes; just bags under them from
worry and lack of sleep. The Order meeting last night had run late, and he
couldn’t have slept even if he’d tried. He looked up when Professor Snape
thundered into the Headmaster’s office in a swirl of robes.
Snape stumbled and nearly fell when he slipped on the sherbert-lemons strewn
all over the floor. He caught himself and noticed in surprise that the chalice
which usually held them lay shattered on the rug near the Headmaster’s desk.
“My apologies Severus. Please watch your step.”
Dumbledore waved his wand. The sherbert-lemons and broken crystal vanished. He
motioned to the armchair in front of his desk.
“Please, be seated Severus. Now, perhaps you can tell me what has brought you
here in such a state.”
Snape’s jaw clenched, and a vein his temple throbbed.
“Headmaster, one of my students... Daphne Greengrass has requested to be...
resorted. She no longer wishes to remain in Slytherin House. And speaking quite
frankly... I cannot blame her.”
“Are you willing to grant her request Severus?”
“I am. Though I fear she will be in danger no matter which House she ends up
in. I know how... lasting House prejudices can be.” Snape flushed and
Dumbledore peered sadly at him.
“Indeed!” the headmaster sighed. “Why don’t you tell me what brought this on!”
Professor Snape swallowed. The circumstances were well outside his zone of
comfort for open discussion.
“Miss Greengrass - she was reluctant to speak of it. But from my own...
gleaning, I have determined that she was the victim of an assault by Draco
Malfoy - an assault with... sexual overtones. He was accompanied by several
other Slytherin students in his year. Nymphadora Tonks also reported the
incident to me, but unfortunately she was not close enough to the scene to
provide any details beyond harassment.”
Snape raised his eyebrows as he continued. “Potter... he put an end to it,
apparently with a rather strong Stunning Spell. Pomfrey told me that Draco
showed up with a headache, asking for a pain potion.”
“I see!” Dumbledore’s forehead wrinkled and he sighed again, counting his
fortunes; despite having eliminated another horcrux and gaining an unexpected
ally within the last forty eight hours, the balance appeared to be weighing in
the negative. “Am I to take it then, Severus, that Miss Greengrass’s absence
from my office means that she is unwilling to press charges?”
“Yes!” The vein throbbed painfully again in Snape’s forehead. “I have reason to
believe that she is too afraid to, given the current... political climate.”
The Headmaster sighed once more, his eyes catching the letter which he had
received that morning on his desk. Dumbledore understood the political climate
all too well, as he had just been given notice that he had been relieved of his
position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The new Minister was fast gaining
allies, and the damage done by Skeeter’s articles had finally taken its toll.
Dumbledore had hoped to contain the fallout at Hogwarts. But it appeared that
things were escalating rapidly.
“Very well! Without any official charges I am forced to leave things in your
hands Severus. I would hope that you can see fit to dole out appropriate
punishments. Sexual Assault cannot stand at Hogwarts. Detentions and loss of
House Points are hardly effective measures fitting to such crimes. If it were
up to me, the culprits would be expelled immediately and placed in the custody
of the DMLE.”
Professor Snape nodded curtly as Dumbledore continued.
“You may inform Miss Greengrass that she has my permission to leave Slytherin.
Unfortunately, once the Sorting Hat has made a decision, it cannot be undone.
The magic which gives it life will not permit it. Miss Greengrass will be
unaffiliated. Therefore I have no choice but to give her private lodgings next
door to the Potters. Do you believe that this will be acceptable to Miss
Greengrass?”
“Yes,” said Snape, nodding. “But I believe that she is too afraid to go back to
Slytherin for her things. She is currently in my office awaiting my return.”
“Some house-elves will be dispatched to retrieve her belongings, and I shall
send Minerva to direct Miss Greengrass to her new quarters. If you would please
bear with me a moment Severus...” Dumbledore turned to Fawkes and nodded.
The scarlet and gold phoenix appeared to understand, and vanished in a
brilliant flare of light. Then the headmaster returned his attention to Snape.
“Now, regarding my earlier comments about appropriate punishment. No doubt the
culprits belong in Azkaban, and I am sure that Filch would be delighted to
offer you his services, but please try to remember that this is an institute of
education, not a Penal Colony. Until such time as I have the authority to
remove these students. You will have to find some suitable measures of
discipline beyond points loss and detention.”
Snape groaned inwardly as he departed the Headmaster’s office. If it were up to
him, Filch would be a Very Happy Squib right now. He met Professor McGonagall
coming up the spiral staircase when he was halfway down and he paused.
“Severus?” she began questioningly.
Snape peered inscrutably at McGonagall.
“The headmaster will explain...” he said, then continued on his way.
                                     ~o0o~
Snape stared coldly at the four students sitting in front of his desk. They had
all been sitting there in silence under his stony gaze boring into their souls
for half an hour. Professor Snape felt physically ill at what he saw inside
them.
Finally, in an icy, even tone, Snape spoke.
“Draco, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle: your wands are hereby confiscated...”
“But sir...” Draco gasped in shock; it had been bad enough for his wand usage
to be restricted, but this was beyond the pale. The others just looked
confounded.
“SILENCE!” Snape bellowed. “You will keep your mouths shut until I have
finished. The headmaster has long put up with the schoolyard taunts and the
occasional playground scuffle, but sexual assault is not tolerated at
Hogwarts...”
“What?... I never...” Draco tried again, stunned at the unfair accusation.
“QUIET!” Snape shouted again. “Don’t bother lying to me Draco. I know the
truth, and I know that each and every one of you were directly involved.”
“If Daphne Greengrass had openly come forward to press charges, you would no
doubt be looking at a lengthy sentence in the Junior Wing of Azkaban. Consider
yourselves... fortunate. Also, you are quite lucky that the Headmaster is not
given to corporal punishment, or you would find yourselves in Mr Filch’s hands.
And believe me, Filch’s ideas of punishment are very... Slytherin.”
Something wasn’t adding up to Draco. If Daphne hadn’t said anything, then how
could Snape have enough proof of anything to punish them - and Draco had barely
even touched Greengrass. How anyone could possibly construe that as sexual
assault was ridiculous. Potter! It had to be! Potter had been spreading filthy
lies! Draco just knew it!
Draco glared at Snape as the Potions Master continued his tirade.
“As I was saying before Draco so rudely interrupted, in lieu of the punishments
you so richly deserve, your wands are hereby confiscated until the end of term.
You will all be confined to Slytherin House for the duration of term - except
for between classes - this means at mealtimes too... And when I say ‘end of
term,’ I mean the end of the school-year. This also means that you are banned
from all Hogsmeade visits.”
“Draco... you are permanently suspended from the Quidditch team. As long as I
am Head of House, you will never again play for Slytherin. And if the rest of
you have any ideas about joining the Quidditch team, you can just put aside
that little fantasy. As for your brooms, they will all be confiscated until
term ends as well.”
At this, Draco couldn’t help himself.
“But SIR, that’s not fair...” he uttered in dismay before his tongue locked up
and he began gurgling incomprehensibly.
“To continue.... if I hear that you are harassing any of the other girls in
Slytherin House, or any other female students between classes for that matter,
I will do my utmost to convince the headmaster to hand you over to Filch. DO I
MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?” Snape concluded with a roar, banging his hand loudly on
his desk for emphasis.
The four Slytherins all glowered murderously at Snape, but one by one, they
cast their eyes down and muttered, “Yes sir.”
                                     ~o0o~
She had been surprised but relieved that the headmaster had agreed so easily.
She had understood why she couldn’t actually be resorted, and she was frankly
glad that she wouldn’t have to endure the scorn that she would have likely
received in any of the other Houses.
As Daphne began unloading her trunk into her new wardrobe and dresser in her
new quarters, she hoped her sister Astoria would eventually understand why she
couldn’t stay in Slytherin. But at least her sister was safe. It was clear to
Daphne that despite her reticence to speak openly, that Professor Snape had
more than an inkling of what had happened. He had promised Daphne that he would
keep an eagle eye on Astoria.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she put her little photo of Astoria on the
bedside table next to her alarm clock. Daphne wished again that she was strong
enough to openly accuse Draco - but she was terrified of Lucius Malfoy. She had
heard the rumours that he was a Death Eater, and she knew that he was close to
the Minister.
As far as Daphne knew, if she said anything, Mr Malfoy could murder her entire
family and get away with it. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to tell
Astoria what Draco had threatened to do to Daphne along with his friends.
Though Daphne wasn’t entirely certain why - it’s not like her sister would have
gone around blabbing - the idea of talking about it just seemed too
humiliating.
Daphne wished for the umpteenth time that Astoria had joined her, but her
younger sister had balked at leaving her friends in Slytherin behind without a
good explanation. Feeling miserable, and alone, Daphne flung herself on her new
bed.
Just as the throes of misery began to set in, a knock on the heavy oak door of
her chambers startled Daphne. Puzzled, she clambered off the bed and wiped her
tears away on the sleeve of her robes. She slowly opened the door and gasped
when she saw who was visiting.
Hermione Potter glanced at Daphne, giving her a nervous smile as Harry fidgeted
beside her, also doing his best to smile warmly.
“Er... we thought you might be feeling lonely,” said Hermione. “Perhaps...
erm... would you like to join us for dinner?”
***** Chapter 32: Love and Regret *****
The kiss deepened, fingers tangled in Hermione’s sodden golden ringlets,
Harry’s anxiety began to dissipate. What did it matter if they were both naked
in the Room of Requirement? The only way that anyone could enter and discover
them would be to ask specifically for a jaccuzi which looked like an Enchanted
Fairy Grotto. The chances of such an occurrence were vanishingly small.
Harry let himself go, his passion rising, lips tracing a path to Hermione’s
neck, fingers disentangling and roaming southward. Hermione let out a little
moan of pleasure, pressing her slippery wetness against Harry. He leaned back
against the side of the jaccuzi, her hardened nipples poking him in the chest
as she straddled his legs. His hands slipped under the surface of the steaming,
turbulent water, sliding down Hermione’s back, encircling her slender waist.
Hermione responded in kind, her own hands traversing Harry’s chiseled torso.
She bit her lip and let out a keening sound, grinding her entrance against
Harry’s thigh.
This certainly hadn’t been Harry’s original intent, but there was no going back
now. Harry cradled Hermione’s bottom cheeks, giving them a gentle squeeze
before lifting her onto his pulsing erection.
Hermione let out another moan as Harry’s length slid into her wet channel.
Harry gasped. His head began to spin as he thrust, meeting the gyrations of her
hips as she rode him. The gasps and moans echoed in the steamy, glittering
Fairy Grotto.
Eddies and currents swirled in the bubbling cauldron and sparks of magic began
to fly as the fervor grew, and the pair started to lose themselves in one
another. Harry’s last coherent thought before he was swept away completely by
the tide of bliss was of how much he loved Hermione.
Hermione dug her nails into Harry’s back and cried out ecstatically as she felt
Harry releasing his essence into her depths. Magic arced like bolts of
lightning, and the chamber trembled and rocked as they climaxed together.
                                     ~o0o~
Minerva McGonagall frowned, passing the letter from the Triwizard Commission
back to the headmaster. Professor Dumbledore put the letter down and reached
into his desk.
“I think we’ll be needing this,” he said, pulling out a bottle of Dragon Barrel
brandy.
He then poured a snifter each for his deputy headmistress and the Potions
master as well as himself. Neither of the professors accompanying the
headmaster raised any objections. The angry deputy headmistress took a big gulp
from her snifter before speaking.
“So,” fumed McGonagall. “There is no way that we can prevent the Third Task?
...nor at least have some say as to what sorts of creatures and magical
obstacles are to be employed?”
“I do not believe so,” Dumbledore sighed. “It seems quite clear that we have
been forestalled from having any input ourselves. We can only be thankful that
the Skrewts bred for the task at the insistence of the Triwizard Commission
have been killing each other off. Hopefully, there will be few left by the time
June arrives.”
Snape and McGonagall both snorted at the notion that Hagrid needed
encouragement from an outside agency to breed dangerous creatures. But indeed,
at the beginning of the year the Commission had given Hagrid the eggs produced
by breeding a Manticore with a Fire-Crab, knowing that Hagrid would be all too
eager to raise them, despite Dumbledore’s own reticence.
“And what of the Acromantulas?” McGonagall wondered aloud. “Perhaps Hagrid’s
friend Aragog will have some sway?”
Snape rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be so naive Minerva,” the Potions master sneered. “Even if Aragog so
commanded, without his presence to stay them, the Acromantulas chosen by the
Ministry for the Third Task will not obey his command when the blood of wizards
calls to them. We must face facts - there is little we can do unless the
Champions signal for help.
“The Warding Charms placed around the Maze by the Commission will prevent any
teacher or headmaster from entering the Maze unless we are directly called upon
to provide aid.”
“But we know less than half of what the Champions will be facing in the Maze,”
snapped McGonagall. “Albus, surely the Commission can give us at least an
inkling of what else they have in store for the Champions.”
The headmaster sighed again. “Alas, Minerva, our hands are tied. You know as
well as I do that the Ministry is in unscrupulous hands. The best I can do is
to ensure that all of the Champions and their mentors are as informed as
ourselves. I shall confer with Olympe and Igor on the morrow...”
At that moment, one of Dumbledore’s delicate instruments began to whir and
oscillate wildly, emitting sparks and a puff of smoke. The lanterns flickered
and a slight tremor shook the office. Fawkes ruffled his feathers and uttered a
little squawk. Snape’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed McGonagall. “What on earth was that?”
“I do not know,” answered the headmaster, looking as perplexed as his staff-
members. He clambered out of his seat quickly and examined several of his
contraptions, including the one which had sparked.
“There appears to have been some sort of magical power surge in the castle,”
said Dumbledore after a moment, “However, there is no sign of castle breach,
nor of Dark magical attack. Is anyone running an experiment at the moment?
Flitwick perhaps?”
“Not to my knowledge,” replied McGonagall.
“If I may, Headmaster, perhaps we just experienced the effects of an outburst
of accidental magic somewhere in the castle,” suggested Snape. “As unusual as
it may be, on occasion, teenagers can still be given to such events.”
“Hmm...” Dumbledore stroked his long silvery beard pensively. “You may be onto
something Severus. Such has indeed occurred in the past; however, this
particular outburst must have been remarkably powerful to have shaken the
entire castle...”
                                     ~o0o~
“Bloody Hell Hermione! What was that? What happened?” Still dazed and feeling
quite giddy from their playful watery escapade, Harry peered at his wife
expectantly. Hermione giggled nervously as the euphoria of passion began to
ebb.
“I... I’m not sure Harry, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was an accidental
release of magic... I suppose it’s something that must happen to wizards
occasionally when they have intercourse - especially if it’s really good and
they’re really, really in love...”
Harry looked perplexed. “But everything shook Hermione - the castle shook, like
an earthquake - and there was a flash - like lightning. Even when I was angry
and blew up Aunt Marge like a balloon, I’ve never had such a strong burst of
accidental magic.”
Hermione peered at the churning water and the crystalline stalactites of the
Room of Requirement’s Fairy Grotto, an idea forming in her whirring brain.
“Hmm... well there were two of us for one thing, amplifying the magic
exponentially,” she began, turning slightly pink. “We both... erm... peaked at
the same time. Also, perhaps, in the water - maybe it’s like when an electrical
charge is introduced to saltwater. It’s possible that it may have conducted the
magic - further amplified it - and released it into the castle walls.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know Harry. I’m just speculating - I can’t be certain.”
“Right!” Harry nodded, gulping anxiously. “Well, that makes as much sense as
anything I suppose - let’s get out of here...”
Harry fervently hoped that there had been no damage, and that they could avoid
getting into trouble. Hurriedly, the Potters dressed and fled the Room of
Requirement. Harry’s wildly thumping heart began to slow when it seemed that
there were no panicking hordes in the hallways of Hogwarts, and everything
seemed intact.
But all hopes of forgetting about the incident completely were dashed when they
found themselves in the Great Hall at dinner. They arrived late. Seated at the
Mingling Table already were some of their friends. Under normal circumstances,
Harry would have been happy to see Ron, Seamus, and Dean among them. But they
appeared to be deep in discussion regarding an unusual occurrence.
“...and me and Seamus were playing wizard chess by the window...” Ron was
telling Dora and Daphne.
“And I was losing as usual,” Seamus interjected.
“...and it rattled so hard I was sure it was going to break,” Ron continued.
Dean rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that hard...”
“I didn’t notice it at all,” Neville chimed in.
“Nor I,” said Daphne. “I was in my room and I didn’t feel a thing. But I did
see the lights flickering.”
At that moment, Ron noticed Harry and Hermione taking their seats.
“Oh, hi Harry, Hermione,” said Ron excitedly, “Did you feel that castle-quake?”
“Er...” said Harry as he flushed.
He glanced at Hermione, whose cheeks had also taken on a rosy tinge.
Fortunately, Harry was saved from answering by the arrival of the Feast. He
breathed a deep sigh of relief and began to tuck in. Hermione was equally glad
of the distraction that the food provided. Dora eyed the Potters with
amusement, supposing that they had been too occupied to notice the quake.
                                     ~o0o~
The evening was cold and dry. A peacock strutted in the moonlit gardens of an
opulent Wiltshire estate, its cry piercing the night. Inside the manor, a
bitter Warlock brooded. Lucius Malfoy scowled as he sipped his brandy,
wondering where he had gone wrong. His narrowed eyes lit upon the empty
armchair near the fire where his wife should be seated.
Lucius was still puzzled as to how Narcissa had discovered that he had
transferred funds into their son’s private vault at Gringotts. It was unlike
her to check on the finances - a fact that he had been counting on. In any
case, that had only been the beginning of the row. One thing had led to
another, and somehow the argument had turned from their son to what Narcissa
had termed as Lucius’s own “questionable choices” in the past - a clear dig at
his days as a Death Eater.
“...and where are you now while our son follows in your footsteps?” Narcissa
had shouted, “Spending your days at the Ministry hatching new plots and schemes
to undermine Dumbledore.”
“And why not?” Lucius had angrily retorted. “Finally, we have a competent
Minister of our persuasion, dedicated to doing whatever is necessary to put an
end to the dilution of our bloodlines. Why shouldn’t I be doing all I can to
help find a solution to the Mudblood problem once and for all?”
His next words had just slipped out, unintended, in the heat of anger. He had
wished he could take them back the moment he’d said them.
“...Carrying on like this, anyone might think you a Blood Traitor!” Lucius had
snapped at his wife.
That had silenced Narcissa; but at what cost? She had stared at him coldly for
a moment before turning on her high heels and storming from the parlour.
Several minutes later, Lucius had heard her furious footsteps echoing through
the manor, and then the front door slamming shut.
And now he sat alone, nursing a brandy snifter which needed refilling. Lucius
supposed he should have seen this coming. Narcissa had been slipping away -
growing more and more distant since the Quidditch World Cup. And if he were
being honest with himself, the warning signs that they were drifting apart had
been apparent since the Chamber of Secrets business.
Pouring himself another brandy, Lucius Malfoy’s scowl grew deeper when he
recalled the argument which had stemmed from the loss of the House Elf. He had
been forced to reveal his own hand in the opening of the Chamber to his wife.
And his promise that Draco - as a Pureblood - had never been in any danger had
fallen on deaf ears.
“...and what of the other students at Hogwarts,” Narcissa had shouted then.
“They are just children...”
“Just children,” his wife had called them. Just children? Had Narcissa
forgotten that Mudblood children eventually grew up to breed even more filth?
Perhaps it was for the best that Narcissa had fled to her ancestral home, empty
though it was. And perhaps his harsh words - Blood Traitor - had not been so
far off the mark.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry’s dreams that night were fitful. Feeling her husband restless beside her,
Hermione woke several times. After the third time she gave Harry a little
shake.
“Harry, are you alright?” she asked. Harry woke with a start.
“Th...thanks for waking me Hermione...” Harry rubbed at his burning scar, his
face clammy and pale. “Yeah... yeah, I’m alright. It’s not too bad...”
“It’s Voldemort again, isn’t it?” Lines of worry creased Hermione’s brow. “Is
he doing something horrible?”
“No - it would be worse if he was,” Harry replied. “I’m just getting flashes -
glimpses of him and Wormtail and the others. They’re making plans.”
“To come after you again?” asked Hermione.
Harry shook his head. “Not yet. Voldemort wants to build up his forces and...
and revenge himself against some of the Death Eaters who didn’t rejoin him. I
don’t quite remember all the details, but I know that he’s sending Crabbe and
Goyle - their fathers I mean - to recruit Giants.”
“Should we wake Dumbledore and tell him? Or can it wait till morning?”
“Anytime tomorrow should be okay,” said Harry. “It’s nothing urgent really.”
“Alright then,” said Hermione, giving him a little kiss. She put her arm around
him and snuggled closer, laying her bushy head on his shoulder. “Would you like
some hot cocoa - to help you go back to sleep?”
Harry grinned as the soreness in his scar began to ebb, catching a whiff of her
minty fragrance. He gave Hermione a kiss on her forehead.
“No thanks, I’m feeling loads better already.”
Harry felt even better the following morning, having fallen back to sleep in
his wife’s arms. He awoke to see the golden highlights of her hair gleaming in
the sun pouring through the window. Feeling refreshed and lighter, Harry
remembered more of what he had seen in his dreams. The knowledge kept him
slightly distracted throughout the day while he attended classes. When lessons
were over, Harry eagerly made his way to Dumbledore’s office with Hermione.
When the Potters entered, they caught Dumbledore peering wistfully at a little
ancient sepia photograph of a young girl with fair hair. In his hand, the
headmaster clutched a ring with a cracked gemstone - the horcrux which they had
discovered and killed several days ago. Harry and Hermione both felt a bit
awkward, as if they had interrupted Dumbledore in a private moment of great
personal importance.
But if Dumbledore felt put out, he did a good job of hiding it. The look of
melancholy in his eye was quickly replaced with his usual twinkles.
“Ah, Harry, Mrs Potter - please be seated,” said Dumbledore warmly as he
returned the ring to a drawer in his desk. “I had been meaning to speak with
you in any case Harry. But first you may tell me what is on your mind.”
“Thank you sir,” Harry responded politely, doing his best to restrain his
curiosity about the picture on Dumbledore’s desk. “I had another dream... er...
vision I mean - last night.”
“I take it the matter is of no great urgency then,” the headmaster keenly
observed.
“Yeah... I mean no... er, well, I suppose you can judge for yourself, but at
least it wasn’t anything dreadful anyway. It’s just that Voldemort was making
plans and I thought you should know what he’s up to.”
“Indeed Harry - please continue.”
“Yes sir. Anyway, apparently Voldemort means to build up his forces before
doing much else - he’s sending Crabbe and Goyle somewhere to look for Giants
for one thing. And MacNair is supposed to be capturing Mountain Trolls - like
the one which almost got Hermione first year. And he’s sending Avery out to
recruit criminal types - hooligans and such, I think.
“Wormtail’s already got some Werewolves on their side. Who he really wants
though, is the Lestranges and some others - but they’re in...”
“Azkaban,” said Dumbledore quietly. “That means that eventually Voldemort will
seek to take Azkaban by force to free his most loyal former supporters.”
“Er... right!” Harry agreed. “But he’s got to wait a bit until he’s got a big
enough army to do it. And in the meantime, Voldemort’s planning to go after
some of the Death Eaters on the outside who didn’t return to him.”
“Yes, I expected as much...” Dumbledore nodded. “Those who defy Voldemort do so
at their own peril. There are ways for the cautious to protect themselves of
course, though some may be feeling overconfident, lulled into a false sense of
security by Voldemort’s defeat and long absence. Those shall no doubt find
themselves caught off-guard, much to their dismay.
“Well Harry,” he continued, “I must thank you for the update. There is little I
can do to prevent an attack on Azkaban given our current situation with the
Ministry, other than to warn Madam Bones that such may occur. We shall have to
leave that in her capable hands, though I fear that it will not stop an
eventual prison-break. Dementors have an affinity for Dark wizards, and may be
swayed to join Voldemort’s cause.
“Now, to that which I had intended to bring to your attention. I had been
planning on having Professor Moody reveal the latest information regarding the
Third Task, but as you are here in my office, I may as well tell you myself...
Dumbledore told Harry and Hermione what was known, which was less than what he
would have liked. And by the time the meeting with the headmaster adjourned,
Hermione was infuriated by the sparsity of the information. Harry thought that
if she were any angrier, flames might shoot from her eyes.
“Giant venomous spiders,” Hermione huffed under her breath as they made their
way to the Room of Requirement for practice, “I can’t believe it Harry...”
“And Blast-Ended Skrewts,” said Harry helpfully. “Don’t forget those.”
“But that’s not even the half of it,” Hermione said crossly. “This is no joke
Harry. You have to be prepared for anything. We have no idea what else you’ll
be facing. For all we know, they could set loose a horde of Inferi in the
Maze.”
Harry sighed, seeing how worked up Hermione had become at the idea of him
facing swarms of deadly unknown creatures and obstacles. He began to feel bad
when he realised that Hermione was taking it so hard that she was on the verge
of hyperventilation. They had been planning on practicing with their patronuses
before meeting up with Daphne for their workout, but that was starting to look
like a dim prospect.
Then it hit Harry - Cheering Charms - that ought to get them both in a good
mood again. At least good enough to try experimenting with their patronuses.
“Hermione please,” Harry implored. “Everything will work out - we’ve got months
to train. If you’d like, I can do a Cheering Charm on you.”
“I’m sorry Harry,” said Hermione apologetically when it struck her that Harry
was doing his best to take things in stride. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I
just hate this stupid tournament - I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Yes,
a Cheering Charm sounds nice.”
Harry performed the charm, and Hermione began to feel much better. Hermione
returned the favour, and soon they were both feeling a bit giggly by the time
they reached the Room of Requirement. Happiest memories at the forefront of
their minds - and they had many to choose from - both Potters conjured their
patronuses.
A sublime joy swept through Harry and Hermione when the etheric stag and doe
burst from their wands for the first time since they had chased away the
Dementors in third year. Harry was absolutely stunned at the intensity of their
radiant luminosity; they were much brighter than he recalled, nearly blindingly
so. The Room of Requirement was flooded with the pulsing light, and their
bodies tingled with seraphic ecstasy as the magic swirled around them.
                                     ~o0o~
The headmaster looked up from his desk when he heard it - the whirring of one
of his delicate silver and gold instruments. Fawkes uttered a questioning trill
as he eyed the equipment warily. Dumbledore half expected sparks and a puff of
smoke again. But something was different this time; there was no quake and the
lights were stable.
Regardless, according to the instrument readings, it was clear that another
powerful outpouring of magic of extremely high frequencies was occurring
somewhere in the castle once again. But this time the magic was under control -
directed in some sort of application that seemed vaguely familiar. The most
curious thing was that as before, the location of the surge could not be
pinpointed.
Dumbledore was quite keen on solving this mystery, but he had to consider his
priorities. The school certainly was in no danger from the mysterious magical
outburst - on the contrary, the surges seemed to have only strengthened the
school’s defences. For the timebeing, the headmaster had more pressing concerns
that did indeed present a danger to not only the school, but the entirety of
Magical Britain.
For one thing, his most immediate and important decision was whether or not to
send Hagrid on a dangerous, quite likely fruitless mission with minuscule
chance of success. Dumbledore had to weigh his options carefully. Quite simply,
beyond the fact of friendship, he couldn’t afford to lose his Care of Magical
Creatures professor at this critical phase of the Triwizard tournament.
                                     ~o0o~
The weeks leading up to Easter passed more quickly than Harry and Hermione
thought possible. Schoolwork and training kept them both too busy to worry
about things. There had been no sign that Voldemort had made anymore
significant moves, and Harry was pleased that he hadn’t had to endure the
stress that came whenever Voldemort was personally involved in a kill.
Daphne seemed to be getting on reasonably well, having been adopted as a friend
by Parvati and Lavender. Fleur seemed to find Daphne’s presence pleasing as
well. Hermione was thrilled to find herself regularly in three-way dinner
conversations in French, as Daphne had spent some summers at the French Riviera
also. And gradually - with Dora’s help - Daphne was building up her strength
and enduring Professor Moody’s workouts and training sessions.
Much to Ron’s delight, Harry managed to find some time to hang out, play a few
games of chess, and do a little flying together with a few other friends as
well. Ron couldn’t believe his luck to finally meet Viktor Krum properly.
All in all, with Hermione at his side, Harry was feeling happy - happy enough
to almost forget that a dangerous Dark wizard and the Minister were both
plotting against him. Only one thing in that time served as a reminder of the
circumstances which loomed over Harry’s life.
One day, nearly two weeks after that fateful day upon which Voldemort had
restored himself, Snape approached Harry at the end of Potions. Harry wondered
if he’d done something wrong, because Snape looked almost as sour as he had
through much of Harry’s first year at Hogwarts. In fact, the Potters had both
noticed Snape’s increased moodiness the past two weeks and chalked it up to his
being disturbed by Voldemort’s renewal.
After everyone else had left the dungeon, Harry and Hermione sat there before
Snape’s desk, anxiously awaiting some sort of reprimand - for what, they did
not know. The tension grew in the silence; finally, as if it hurt, Snape spoke.
“Potter,” he began sharply before catching himself and moderating his tone,
“...Harry - what I am about to tell you is for your ears only. I have allowed
Mrs Potter to stay because she is your... spouse.
“Let me begin by saying that I am unaccustomed to discussing matters of
personal interest... with anyone. However, there are certain facts which
concern us both - facts which you deserve to know. Our fates are entwined more
than you can possibly imagine...”
Harry felt a strong urge to point out that he had an inkling that Snape had
known his mother, having gleaned at least that much from Voldemort’s mind the
afternoon that Voldemort had sent out the signal to his Death Eaters. But
Hermione must have sensed Harry’s urge, because she gave him a gentle nudge.
Harry decided that perhaps it was better to simply let Snape speak
uninterrupted.
“At one time,” Snape continued, “when I was a student at Hogwarts, I knew your
parents. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were also known to me.
We had a sordid history which I have no desire to relive in detail. Suffice it
to say that your father and his friends - I loathed them, and they loathed me.
“Your mother however, was a different matter altogether. For many years, we had
been... friends. I regret to say that I took that friendship for granted... and
lost it. Indeed, I have many regrets - not the least of which is that
eventually your parents married...” Snape couldn’t help himself, saying that
last part with a sneer. He halted a moment to recover himself, then began
again.
“Now, I should say that what happened next, were the further indiscretions of a
young and foolish man. During my youth at Hogwarts, my friends were nearly all
followers of the Dark Lord, and I - like them - joined him upon my
graduation... another act I regret to this day.
“You are aware - I believe - of the Prophecy and that the Dark Lord came to
learn of it. What you may not know, is how that came to be... My greatest
regret of all...”
“Harry...” Snape paused again, a flicker of pain and sorrow in his eyes.
“It was me,” he continued, so softly that it was almost a whisper. “I overheard
part of the Prophecy, and relayed it to the Dark Lord. It was only... only when
I learned that your mother - that Lily... that she would be targeted by the
Dark Lord that I switched sides. I begged Dumbledore to save her... but it was
too late... the deed was done...” Snape trailed off, a muscle twitching in his
jaw, his dark eyes glistening.
Harry was flabbergasted. The rest of the story he knew of course; Wormtail had
betrayed his parents, deliberately selling them out to Voldemort. But he
couldn’t believe that Snape himself had been the one to tell Voldemort about
the prophecy. If he hadn’t, Harry’s parents might be alive today. Harry didn’t
know what to feel - nor what to say. Hermione took his hand, biting her lip,
struggling to contain her tears.
Snape managed to speak one last time.
You had to know!” he croaked. Then Snape stood up abruptly and strode out of
the classroom in a swirl of robes.
Harry still couldn’t believe it. It took him several days to recover from
Snape’s stunning revelation. But recover he did. One thing Harry was sure of,
was that Snape had been very brave to reveal his part in things. Snape could
have gone to his grave in silence and Harry would have been none the wiser.
Another thing that Harry was sure of, Snape had loved Harry’s mother very much.
***** Chapter 17: Moody Blues Part 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     Yes, I know it's out of sequence. I have been reediting some
     chapters, to clean them up and dial up the eroticism.
Ron scowled, wondering if it was his imagination, or was Hermione hanging all
over Harry even more than she ever had before? Hermione seemed to be sitting
even closer to Harry at mealtimes, if possible. And they seemed to have their
arms around one another more often than he could recall, even when she wasn’t
crying about something.
Ron had always thought that she was just one of those sorts of girls who was
huggy-kissy - ick - and it had simply been another annoying Hermione Granger
thing to him - like her bossy know-it-allness. Ron had been infuriated when
she’d been all over Harry at Christmas. Harry was supposed to be his best
friend, not Hermione’s.
It had been more than apparent that they’d grown even closer since the summer
following the end of Second Year. They always seemed to take each other’s sides
in arguments against Ron - though admittedly, Scabbers had ended up being a
creepy murderous wizard and the “Grim” had been Harry’s godfather. But there
was something else which was aggravating about it now which Ron couldn’t quite
put his finger on. The way Harry’s arm had been around Hermione’s slender waist
at the World Cup when she was wearing that clingy dress - Draco Malfoy’s taunts
in the woods.
Ridiculous! As if Ron would actually like a bossy know-it-all with bushy hair
and big front teeth. It’s not like she was a Veela.
Though, he had to admit, Hermione’s cleverness had come in handy - when she had
deigned to climb off her high horse to help him catch up in time for final
exams in the classes which they shared before the end of Third Year. Harry had
offered to help Ron with his homework as he usually did, but Hermione had
insisted that Harry had enough to be getting on with and that she would have
more time to spare to help Ron as she was much faster at reading and writing.
And somehow, Hermione had always seemed easier to talk to than other girls -
when she wasn’t being such a bloody annoying bossy know-it-all! And then that
dress - Hermione had looked completely different...
Bloody Hell! What was wrong with him? Had Malfoy been right? All that Ron was
sure of, was that he wasn’t sure what annoyed him more now: the fact that Harry
seemed to like Hermione more than he liked Ron, or the fact that Hermione
seemed to like Harry more than she liked Ron.
And even worse, Ron wasn’t even sure why, except that he felt sort of hungry
every time he thought of Hermione in that dress... and angry when he thought of
Harry’s arm being around her waist.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry heaved his and Hermione’s trunks onto the luggage rack in their
compartment on the Hogwarts Express, oblivious to the expression on Ron’s face.
The rainy weather seemed somehow fitting to Harry’s gloomy mood. He had a
strange sense of foreboding which he supposed was due in part to the fact that
Amos Diggory’s head had popped up in the Weasleys’ fireplace that morning.
Mr Diggory was Cedric Diggory’s father, and a Ministry employee who worked for
the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And Harry
had taken a dislike to the man when he had sensed that Mr Diggory harboured
some sort of ill-will towards him, and when Mr Diggory had treated Winky the
House-Elf so poorly. But that wasn’t what had stirred Harry’s ominous feelings.
Harry was concerned about Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody - the ex-Auror whom Harry and
Hermione had both met at the World Cup; he had a very strong suspicion that Mad
Eye would be taking the open Defence Against the Dark Arts position this year
at Hogwarts. Mr Diggory had brought a message early that morning for Mr Weasley
that the ex-Auror had got in a spot of trouble with the Ministry which only Mr
Weasley could sort out. According to Mr Diggory, Mad Eye Moody had attracted
the attention of muggle police when he’d caused a commotion over some sort of
false alarm regarding a non-existent intruder at his house.
“I dunno Hermione...” Harry had muttered after Mr Diggory’s head had departed
the Weasleys’ fireplace with a piece of toast in his mouth. “Mr Diggory thinks
Moody was just being paranoid, but I don’t think I believe that. Doesn’t it
seem a bit coincidental t’you that this would happen just after the Death Eater
attack at the World Cup and just before Moody’s due to leave for Hogwarts? What
if...”
“...someone really did try to attack him?” Hermione had continued, her eyes
widening as her breath had caught. “I think you’re right Harry - If Mr Moody’s
a friend of Dumbledore’s, and fought with him against Voldemort the last time,
then the Headmaster very likely hired him to take the Defence of Dark Arts
position this year to help keep an eye on you because...”
“...he believes that my dream is real - that Voldemort’s back and plotting
again to kill me. Yeah, exactly!” Harry had gone on with a nod. “Maybe
Voldemort found out about Moody somehow and sent someone to try and stop him
from going to Hogwarts.”
“Harry... what if it’s something worse than that?” Hermione had gasped, a
horrible thought suddenly occurring to her.
“What d’you mean Hermione? What could be worse than trying to kill Moody?”
“Harry, what if Voldemort tried to Imperius Mr Moody to kill you at Hogwarts?”
“Blimey Hermione! You’re right...” Harry had frowned thoughtfully for a moment.
“But somehow I think Mr Moody would be hard to Imperius. If that book on curses
we found in Number Twelve’s library is right, strong-willed people have a
chance of throwing off the Imperius Curse. And Mad Eye seemed like a pretty
tough-minded bloke. Maybe...”
Another horrible thought had niggled at the back of Harry’s mind, and Hermione
had given voice to it.
“...Maybe Voldemort sent someone to replace him Harry ...” Hermione had gasped,
“...with polyjuice potion. Oh Harry, we’ve got to have Dumbledore check Mr
Moody thoroughly when we get to school - before he can do anything to hurt
you!”
As his thoughts returned to the present, Harry took Crookshanks’ basket from
Hermione and stowed it next to Hedwig’s cage and Hermione’s trunk on the
luggage rack above their seats, he caught an odd expression on Ron’s face which
put thoughts about Mr Moody out of his mind temporarily. Harry wondered if Ron
was still upset about the second hand dress robes which his mother had bought
for him in Diagon Alley.
Harry thought it was a crying shame how quickly Ron’s good mood had evaporated.
Ron had seemed very happy the last few days of the summer holidays - showing
off the quidditch moves that he’d been practicing from the book which Harry had
given him as a Christmas Present, on the broom which Sirius had given him to
make up for breaking his leg. Ron was very intent on making the Gryffindor
quidditch team this year.
Ron had even bitten his tongue and stayed out of the furious argument that
Hermione had had with Percy Weasley about Winky when Percy had insisted that a
high ranking Ministry Official like Mr Crouch deserved “unswerving obedience
from his servants.” Hermione’s enraged retort that Winky was a slave, not a
servant, had been cut off when Mrs Weasley had brought Ron his “new” dress
robes to pack yesterday.
The row between Ron and his mum had been epic when he’d seen the vintage maroon
robes with lacy frills at the collar and cuffs. Hermione had hidden behind The
Standard Book of Spells: Grade 4 - the 4th Year Charms book from which Harry
and Hermione had both learned the Summoning Charm at the beginning of Third
Year - trembling when Ron had thundered up to his room and slammed his door,
bellowing about how everything he owned was rubbish.
The whistle blew and the Hogwarts Express lurched into motion with a hiss of
steam as its wheels screeched, distracting Harry briefly from ruminating on
Ron’s moodiness. Harry caught Hermione in his arms when she staggered, and they
both quickly sat down. The heavy rain pelted at the windows as the train
departed from King’s Cross.
Harry glanced at Ron again and considered telling him what he and Hermione had
surmised about Moody before leaving the Weasleys’ house earlier that morning,
when they were rudely interrupted and heckled by Draco Malfoy and his thuggish
cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. He was getting
used to this little ritual exchange with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express at the
beginning of every school-year.
Ron’s mood went from bad to worse after Malfoy tormented him about the maroon
dress robes - which Ron had thrown over his owl’s cage to shut Pigwidgeon up.
And it didn’t end there. Malfoy seemed to have some inside knowledge regarding
the upcoming event at Hogwarts precipitating the necessity for dress robes.
“...So what about it Weasel-boy? You planning on entering then? It’s your
chance to show Potter up and get the girl... there’s gold involved too you
know?”
“What are you on about Malfoy?” snapped Ron, his face reddening.
“What? You don’t know? Your father and brother work at the Ministry and you
don’t even know? I suppose they’re too low level...” Malfoy chortled gleefully.
“They’re probably not important enough to be told that sort of thing...” he
continued as Crabbe and Goyle sniggered sycophantically.
“Clear off Malfoy...” Harry growled warningly, unwilling to admit that he
didn’t know something that Malfoy did. Unfortunately, Malfoy seemed to know
exactly which card to play to really get Ron’s goat and he barreled on, talking
loudly over Harry.
“I expect Potter will enter though - he never misses a chance to show-off! I’m
surprised Potter didn’t tell you though, Weasleby - considering that he’s such
good chums with the Minister after all....”
“...Though I suppose Scarhead’s worked out what a worthless peasant you are and
decided he’d rather hog all the glory to himself!” Malfoy concluded, smirking
malevolently as he beckoned Crabbe and Goyle to depart.
“Bloody git!” fumed Ron, his face purple with rage. “I wish he really had been
sent to Durmstrang.” Ron slammed the compartment door so hard that all the
glass shattered, and he shot Harry a dark look.
“Reparo,” muttered Hermione.
Harry was taken aback and speechless, momentarily uncertain who Ron’s look of
fury was directed at. Hermione must have had an inkling though, because she
jumped in as soon as the shards of glass had become whole windowpanes and
returned to their proper places.
“Ron,” she said quickly, her voice full of concern, “You know Malfoy was full
of rubbish don’t you? Obviously some sort of event must be happening at
Hogwarts this year, but Harry doesn’t know any more about it than you do.”
“Er... yeah... sure,” said Ron uncertainly, not meeting Hermione’s eyes.
“Yeah... I mean you would’ve told me... right Harry?”
“Of course I would’ve Ron!” said Harry. “Malfoy’s just a liar!”
Harry was extremely relieved when Ginny and Luna found their compartment and
joined them. When the witch with the lunch trolley showed up, Harry purchased a
pile of meat pasties and cauldron cakes, and drinks for everyone, hoping some
food would cheer Ron up. Ron did lighten up somewhat, but his moodiness seemed
very persistent.
When Seamus, Dean, and Neville ambled by after lunch had been demolished, and
poked their heads in to say hello, Ron followed them back to their compartment.
Luna and Ginny glanced at Harry and Hermione, then peered at each other
knowingly.
“Thanks for lunch Harry,” beamed Luna. “It was lovely.”
“Yeah... thanks Harry,” said Ginny, smiling. “We’ll see you both later
Hermione. You may as well make the best of the peace and quiet the rest of the
day,” she finished pointedly.
Hermione pursed her lips into a funny little half-smile; Harry turned slightly
pink and grinned. As soon as Ginny and Luna had gone, Hermione drew the
curtains across the windows to the narrow corridor and locked the door.
“Just for now,” said Hermione as she snuggled under Harry’s arm.
“No arguments here,” Harry let out a huge sigh of relief as the residual
tension drained away, leaning in to meet Hermione’s lips with his own as he
gently stroked Hermione’s cheek.
They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling, occasionally sharing humid
kisses, and eventually dozed off peacefully in each other’s arms, feeling safe
in the knowledge that Hermione’s windup alarm clock was set to wake them an
hour before they reached Hogwarts. Crookshanks purred on their laps and Hedwig
hooted softly as the rain grew heavier and the train trundled ever northward.
Ron left it until the very last minute to return to their compartment as the
Hogwarts Express rounded the last bend. He seemed to be in a much better mood.
For his part, Harry was feeling much happier as well, though he was still
anxious about what would happen when Mr Moody reached Hogwarts.
                                     ~o0o~
After the Sorting, everyone dug into the feast. Harry kept peering up at the
Staff Table at the empty seat which was surely Mr Moody’s, barely touching his
dinner.
“WazzamatterHarry?” mumbled Ron cheerily through a huge mouthful of steak and
kidney pie and mashed potato as Parvati and Lavender eyed him with horror.
“Er...” Harry wasn’t sure exactly what to say, as he still hadn’t had a chance
to reveal his and Hermione’s suspicions to Ron, then he decided to just make a
bit of a joke out of it. “...Just hoping the new Defence teacher isn’t another
one of Vol... er... You-Know-Who’s minions out to kill me this year.”
Ron nearly snorted his mashed potato out of his nose in laughter. Hermione
picked at her own food for a bit, before turning to Harry looking troubled. But
Hermione’s lack of appetite appeared to be due to a different reason
altogether.
“Harry, Sirius said that that he’d sent his house-elf Kreacher to Hogwarts, and
Winky said that Dobby works here too. Do you think that house elves made all of
this food?”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t really thought about it before. But the
idea that his dinner had been made by slaves began to make the few bits of
roast beef and mashed potatoes - which he’d only just managed to get down -
churn in his stomach.
“Er... I don’t know Hermione... I... I suppose perhaps they do though!”
“They do indeed,” proffered Nearly Headless Nick, who had been eavesdropping
silently behind them and peering longingly at the feast. “Hogwarts has well
over a hundred house-elves you know.”
“But... but Dumbledore pays them right?” said Hermione, “Like Dobby? And surely
they get sick leave and pensions and... and paid holidays?”
Nick chortled at the hilarious notion of house-elves getting holidays.
“Of course not! And they’d be very offended if anyone offered,” the ghost
responded, guffawing with great amusement.
Ron began to snigger loudly, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire
Pudding. Hermione’s face turned livid, and Ron quieted to a grin. But Fred
chuckled, and spoke up.
“They like it Hermione...”
“...they live to serve...” continued George.
“You KNEW? ” gasped Hermione, quivering in outrage.
Fred and George looked at each other uncomfortably, realising suddenly that
they had just stepped into a mine-field, not to mention that they were on the
verge of inadvertently exposing one of the secrets of their successful parties.
“Well... yeah! But...” Fred started to say before quickly shutting up again.
Harry could see steam beginning to come out of Hermione’s ears, and he put his
hand on hers.
“Hermione, why don’t we look into it later. I’m not very hungry anymore either,
but let’s not spoil everyone else’s dinner, alright.”
“Maybe it should be spoiled...” she muttered angrily, glaring at all of the
Weasley brothers, “slave labour.”
Neither she nor Harry ate another bite. Ron tried to tempt them both with the
delicious looking desserts, chortling wickedly, but gave up trying when Harry
glowered at him.
“Give it a rest Ron...” Harry growled when Ron waved a delicious smelling apple
crumble under his nose.
“Suit yourself then, more for me,” Ron smirked.
After the feast, everything else was put out of their minds. Dumbledore had
made his usual speech, but this year he had a bit more to add. Ron’s face fell
when the Headmaster announced that the school’s Quidditch season had been
canceled.
“But I’ve been practicing all summer to get on the team,” Ron moaned angrily.
Fred and George looked equally appalled. Harry peered at Hermione and raised
his eyebrows, knowing that this must have something to do with whatever Malfoy
had been on about. But the furious murmurs filling the Great Hall morphed into
noisy excitement and cheers when Dumbledore pronounced that the Triwizard
tournament would be occurring this year for the first time since 1792, having
been reinstated by the Ministry’s departments of International Magical
Cooperation, and Magical Games and Sports.
“D...d...death toll?” Hermione sputtered when Dumbledore got around to
explaining why it had been canceled centuries ago, glancing at Harry with alarm
and squeezing his hand under the table.
Harry grimaced and rubbed his forehead. Most of Hogwarts seemed unfazed though,
and Fred and George were positively thrilled... until Dumbledore proclaimed
that the rules had been changed to prevent students under 17 from
participating.
“Still, I reckon we could work out how to get past whoever the impartial judge
is,” said Fred.
“Perhaps a couple drops of Aging Potion?” George proposed.
“Yeah... that’d be brilliant,” Ron murmured, a distant look in his eyes. “A
thousand galleons...”
Ron’s daydream was interrupted by a flash of lightning from the enchanted
ceiling and a loud of peal of thunder. The buzz of excitement faded into gasps
of shock and surprise at the intimidating and thoroughly drenched figure who
had just limped into the Great Hall with heavy thumping footsteps.
Harry’s heart began to thud a bit harder and faster, and Hermione clutched his
hand a bit tighter. Harry swallowed nervously, but took some comfort in the
fact that Dumbledore had promised to check Alastor Moody thoroughly for
Imperius Curses and Polyjuice Potion.
Several girls and First Years squeaked with fright as the carved out features
of the ex-Auror’s heavily scarred face stood out clearly in stark relief with
every flicker of lightning. Moody lurched and clomped his way to the Staff-
Table, dripping all over the marble floor. Harry frowned when Dumbledore
introduced him to the school as if nothing were amiss.
“I expect Dumbledore doesn’t want to tip him off just yet, until the students
are safely out of the way, and until he’s sure that there’s no way Moody can
escape - just in case, Harry,” Hermione whispered.
“Oh, yeah... I suppose that makes sense,” murmured Harry.
Harry couldn’t think of anything else all the way back to the Gryffindor Common
Room. Everyone was talking about the Triwizard tournament, but Harry didn’t
hear a word that anyone else but Hermione said. She hugged him as long as she
felt safe to in the Common Room without raising anyone’s eyebrows before saying
goodnight.
The aching emptiness in Harry’s gut as he changed into his pyjamas and
clambered into bed had nothing to do with lack of food, and everything to do
with the lack of his Hermione to cuddle. Harry rubbed at his twinging scar
again, steeling himself for a wretched night of tossing and turning.
“Earth to Harry...”
“Oh... er... Sorry Ron! What were you saying?”
“A Thousand Galleons Harry!” said Ron, yawning sleepily, “I think I might enter
- if Fred and George work out how to do it... You’re going to give it a go,
aren’t you?”
“Er... honestly Ron, I’m really not that interested in competing...”
“Yeah...right!” Ron sniggered, “Sure you’re not...”
“No, really,” Harry muttered. “I don’t know enough spells for one thing. I
don’t need the money, and I’ve already got more fame than I care for. I’d just
like a nice peaceful year at school for once...”
“Whatever you say Harry...”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry felt as dismal and grey as the clouds floating across the Enchanted
Ceiling of the Great Hall the following morning. Hermione peered at him
sympathetically as they dug into breakfast.
“Did you have nightmares again Harry?” she asked quietly. Harry reluctantly
nodded, hating to seem needy and pathetic.
“Moody’s not up at the Staff Table though,” said Harry pensively. “I wonder if
that means anything...”
“I see you’re both eating again,” said Ron with a grin. “Is the Hunger Strike
for House Elves over then?”
Hermione gave Ron a withering glare and Harry rolled his eyes, but neither one
of them was in the mood to take the bait. At the end of breakfast, Ron departed
with Seamus, Dean, and Neville for Divination. Harry and Hermione both got up,
ready to leave for Arithmancy when Professor McGonagall approached them,
bearing a grave countenance.
“Potter, Granger, the Headmaster would like a word with you both in his
office,” McGonagall’s features softened slightly. “I have already informed
Professor Vector that you shan’t be in class today. Not to worry though... she
assured me that she would not be assigning any homework today.”
“Oh no!” said Hermione, sounding disappointed.
“What’s this about Professor? Does this have anything t’do with...?” began
Harry.
“Not here Mr Potter!” McGonagall interjected. “It’s best that Dumbledore
explains everything in private. Though... I suppose it would be remiss of me
not to say at least how very proud and grateful I am to have you both as my
students. Now run along... don’t keep the Headmaster waiting.”
It was with utmost trepidation and anticipation that Harry and Hermione made
their way through the castle to Dumbledore’s office.
“Cockroach Cluster,” said Harry to the gargoyle statue guarding the
Headmaster’s office.
The gargoyle leapt aside; Harry and Hermione stepped onto the foot of the stone
spiral staircase which carried them up like an escalator to the entrance of the
office. His heart pounding in his ears now, Harry took the brass door knocker
in his hand and knocked three times on the glossy oak door. Harry and Hermione
both gasped in shock when it opened to reveal two unexpected visitors already
in Dumbledore’s office.
“Ah... welcome Harry, Miss Granger! Please, do not be alarmed,” said Dumbledore
calmly. “This is the real Alastor Moody... and you are both well acquainted
with Cornelius Fudge of course.”
“Hello Harry, Miss Granger!” Fudge smiled wanly at them both; he had the air of
defeat about him.
“Potter, Granger... Good to see you both again!” growled Moody, who looked more
than a bit exhausted and out of sorts. “Can’t thank you two enough, really!”
Dumbledore conjured two poofy chintz armchairs for Harry and Hermione, and they
both took a seat next to each other. Hermione reached out and took Harry’s
hand, biting her lip.
“Well, perhaps the good news first,” began the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling.
“Though it is no doubt quite apparent as Alastor is now with us, and none the
worse for wear...”
“Except for a bit o’ wounded pride perhaps,” the scarred ex-Auror grumbled.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore continued, looking slightly abashed himself. “And it is
all thanks to Harry’s apparent prescience and the ingenuity of you both. Last
night, based upon your cogent analysis of the situation, after the feast
professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, and myself confronted the imposter -
for indeed he was polyjuiced - and apprehended him with little struggle, having
caught him unawares. Alastor was released from confinement in the bottom of his
own trunk...”
“Who was the imposter?” Harry interjected, unable to help himself.
“Ah... There is quite a tale to tell regarding the identity of the imposter,
but to begin with, I must say that I find myself humbled by you both. I daresay
that the imposter may have gone unnoticed for quite some time before discovery,
as I had not considered the possibility that Voldemort could have learned of
Alastor’s appointment here at Hogwarts and sent an agent to capture and
impersonate him.”
“And as it turns out - as unthinkable as it was - the imposter was none other
than Bartemius Crouch’s son - Barty Crouch Junior...”
“You’re joking! ” gasped Harry.
“The son of the head of International Magical Cooperation?” squeaked Hermione.
“The very same - yes!” Dumbledore nodded. “And believe me, his story is even
more remarkable than you can imagine - as it was believed by all that he had
died in Azkaban. And as incredible as his own personal tale is - given the
elder Crouch’s history - the story of how Barty Crouch Junior came to be
discovered in the home of his father and recruited by Voldemort is even more
convoluted - and his plan to kidnap you stretches the very boundaries of
credulity...”
                                     ~o0o~
Having been given the rest of the first day back at Hogwarts to themselves,
relieved of their classes by Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione found themselves
sitting on boulders by the edge of the Black Lake, still processing the
shocking information revealed in the Headmaster’s office as fat raindrops began
to fall again.
“I know I should be happy Hermione, but it’s a bloody shame that Crouch Jr
couldn’t reveal where Voldemort and Wormtail are hiding right now,” said Harry
bitterly as he picked up a pebble and threw it in the lake with a plunk, not
caring as the rain began to splatter his glasses and pepper his robes with wet
spots. “...I suppose Voldemort must’ve obliviated him - or maybe used some sort
of secret-keeping spell - to keep his location secret until it was the right
time for Crouch Jr to kidnap me to minimise the risk of being caught.”
“I still can’t believe that the Wizengamot passed a motion of no-confidence and
sacked the Minister this morning,” Hermione fumed. “What happened at the World
Cup wasn’t his fault at all! And there’s absolutely nothing in the Daily
Prophet this morning about Crouch Jr’s capture. It’s almost like the new
Minister is trying to cover things up... but why? ”
Harry picked up a bigger rock and hurled it into the water with a splash.
“I dunno Hermione - maybe Minister Umbridge is trying to protect Crouch
Senior?”
“Perhaps so...” Hermione nodded, brushing a wet lock of hair from her face.
“That almost makes sense. I remember Percy saying that Crouch Senior and
Minister Umbridge - when she was still the Senior Undersecretary - saw eye to
eye regarding Cornelius Fudge being incompetent... but still, there’s something
missing...”
“Yeah - tell me about it!” Harry muttered darkly, rubbing at his painful scar.
“Dumbledore and Moody don’t seem to like her very much... maybe she’s got
connections to Voldemort somehow, but they can’t prove it. All I’m sure of
Hermione, is that things aren’t over yet...”
“Voldemort’s going to try something else to get to me which will put everyone
in danger. I just know it - we need to learn some proper fighting spells. I
don’t want to just rely on Moody to protect us - he can’t be around both of us
24/7.”
“I... I agree Harry. I think we should be able to find some good spells in the
Fifth and Sixth Year Charms books...”
Hermione sneezed. Harry turned around and saw her shivering, rivulets of water
running down her cheeks and dripping from her sopping hair. He suddenly
realised that he was as wet as she was, and that it was pouring again, but she
hadn’t said a word. Harry swallowed guiltily. He felt extremely agitated, and
had no desire to be inside the castle around hundreds of other students, but he
knew it would do neither of them any good to catch their death of colds.
“Er... Sorry Hermione! I suppose we’d better get back and...”
But before Harry could say another word of apology, Hermione wrapped herself
around him, kissing him deeply as the rain grew heavier. She slipped her arms
inside his robes and pressed herself against him as tightly as possible. Harry
felt a surge of heat fill him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
The limbs of the willows and birches began swaying as the wind picked up, and
curtains of rain were sweeping across the surface of lake by the time they both
fell apart gasping for breath, but neither of them felt the cold and damp as
they trudged up the muddy hillside back to the castle with grins on their
dripping faces.
Everyone was still in classes when they got back, as it wasn’t even lunchtime
yet, and they hung up their robes to dry by the fire in the Common Room before
heading off to their respective dormitories. Back in her own dorm, Hermione
breathlessly stripped off her wet things and found clean, dry clothes in her
trunk as Crookshanks purred at her. Hermione bit her lip as she peered at her
fresh uniform, considering her options.
She had kissed Harry outside in the rain as passionately as she could, knowing
that it would distract him from his darkening mood. Hermione had felt her
success growing stiffer in Harry's trousers as she pressed up against him in
the downpour, stirring herself in the process. Decision made and still
unclothed, Hermione yanked her crimson curtains all the way around her four-
poster bed, her heart racing. Sensing his human’s need for a moment of privacy,
Crookshanks jumped off her bed and curled up by the fireplace instead.
Breath quickening, as she lay on her bed Hermione parted her thighs and slid
one of her hands down her abdomen, brushing the tawny wisps on her mound,
fingers seeking out her dampening fold. Her other hand she slid across her
chest, grasping one breast then the other, tweaking the tender peaks. Imagining
they were Harry's hands, Hermione slipped two fingers inside her heated
entrance, and toggled her fleshy button with her thumb...
                                     ~o0o~
Harry smiled wryly and turned a bit pink when Hermione finally came back
downstairs to the Gryffindor Common Room looking relaxed. Hermione grinned and
blushed to see Harry appearing much calmer himself, sitting there in clean dry
clothes; she snuggled up beside him on the sofa nearest to the crackling fire
in the hearth. Harry put his arm around Hermione and kissed her forehead.
“Thanks Hermione... I feel loads better now. So what say we head to the library
and start looking up fighting spells... and the history of house-elf slavery?”
“That’s an excellent idea... but I think that can wait till after lunch Harry,”
Hermione said softly, fluttering her eyelashes as she leaned in for a proper
kiss.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry and Hermione gave up looking for information on house-elf slavery after a
while, unable to find anything about it in any of the history books - not even
a single word in Hogwarts, a History. They spent the rest of the afternoon
reading up on stunning and shielding charms, as well as a variety of concussive
and incendiary explosive spells.
“Where’ve you two been all day?” groused Ron, eyeing Harry and Hermione
suspiciously when he found them both in the common room studying after classes.
“I didn’t see you in Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures...”
Harry grinned at Ron and began to quietly fill him in about Professor Moody
with Hermione’s help. It was nearly dinnertime by the time they finished
telling Ron everything.
“Blimey! No wonder Dumbledore gave you the day off! ...” Ron gaped at Harry.
“Another bloody nutter trying to kill you...”
“Yeah... anyway we both skipped lunch, so I’m famished now,” said Harry.
“That miserable old bat Trelawney gave us a load of extra homework too,” Ron
griped moodily as they queued in the entrance hall behind the horde of students
heading for dinner.
“Maybe you should lay off the Uranus jokes when Trelawney does Astrology,”
Neville muttered, frowning at Ron.
Sure enough, Harry spotted Lavender Brown in the crowd shooting Ron dirty looks
again. Parvati turned around to see what Lavender was looking at and rolled her
eyes. Harry heard someone shouting behind him.
“Potter, hey Potter!”
Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron turned to see Malfoy chortling gleefully as
Crabbe and Goyle stood beside him sniggering. Malfoy held up the Daily Prophet
for all to see the headline.
                                 FUDGE SACKED
                SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY SWORN IN AS NEW MINISTER
“How does it feel to be friends with a loser Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “Of
course MY father is good friends with the NEW Minister. I told you that changes
were coming...”
Harry peered at the black and white picture of the squat, toad-like woman on
the front of the wizarding newspaper and shook his head. Draco Malfoy was
slightly taken aback to see a smirk creeping to Harry’s lips.
“Is that the best your daddy can do Malfoy? He must be really getting desperate
since your mummy stopped putting out for him!”
Harry felt a surge of satisfaction as Malfoy’s pallid features flushed angrily.
“I warned you to watch your mouth Potter. How dare you insult my family?”
snarled Malfoy.
“Hark who’s talking. Maybe you should keep your own big fat mouth shut then!”
said Harry, turning his back towards Malfoy.
A white-hot spell sizzled, singing Harry’s cheek as it barely missed him and
exploded a bust near the entrance of the Great Hall, scattering shrieking
students as burning shards rained down upon them. Harry whirled around,
reaching for his wand. But before he could retaliate, Malfoy shriveled up and
turned into a lizard.
Crabbe and Goyle turned and ran for it when they saw the mangled wizard with
the large spinning blue eye bearing down on them.
“That’s quite enough outta you, sonny boy!” Moody growled as he scooped up the
lizard with his bare hand.
“Professor Moody!” gasped McGonagall as she fought her way through the crowd of
frightened pupils. “Is that a student?”
“Too right you are,” said Moody. “Looked like Malfoy’s boy...”
“We never use transfigurations as punishments,” Professor McGonagall began,
“Point losses and detentions....”
“...Are bloody useless for teachin’ cowards a lesson!” Moody snapped. “That
could be Potter or some other student lyin’ in pieces on the floor instead of a
statue.”
Professor McGonagall paled when she saw the damage and glanced around at the
faces of the students, many of whom looked terrified.
“Point taken!” she muttered, her nostrils flaring as her eyes narrowed at the
lizard in Moody’s clutches.
                                     ~o0o~
The next few days passed with much less stress for Harry and Hermione, but
Malfoy shot Harry venomous looks all through Potions. Not only had Malfoy been
sentenced to sit detention disemboweling a barrel full of horned toads by hand,
he had also been suspended from broom flying privileges for the rest of the
term, and he had been restricted to wand usage in classes only.
Harry found that Arithmancy was becoming slightly less of a struggle, finally
having achieved barely passing marks on all of his homework now; though it was
clear to him that he’d still be lucky to get even one Exceeds Expectations on a
piece of homework or a test. And Harry was very pleased that he continued to
excel in Ancient Runes. Hermione had beamed at him proudly when his parchment
on warding against dangerous magical creatures had earned him the highest marks
in class once again.
“Of course, I couldn’t have done it without the best translator in class by my
side,” said Harry, grinning at his girlfriend.
Care of Magical Creatures was a bit less enjoyable than he’d hoped though.
Hagrid had some rather ugly looking little creatures which looked like a cross
between a crab and a scorpion without shells. Apparently they were just
hatchlings, but that didn’t stop them from being rather painful to work with.
The males had stingers, and the females had prickly suckers, and they would
occasionally blast off, emitting hot sparks - hence their name: Blast Ended
Skrewts. But the lesson wasn’t entirely bad. Several females managed to latch
themselves onto Malfoy’s face and he had to be sent up to the hospital wing
after Hagrid removed them.
Most of the class, even Malfoy’s fellow Slytherins, had a good laugh when they
saw Draco’s face emblazoned with blistering hickeys. Hermione couldn’t help
smirking either. The creatures were too small to have done any real harm - and
she felt that he quite deserved it for trying to attack Harry the other day.
Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Moody on Thursday proved to be
intense and disturbing. Moody demonstrated the three “Unforgivable Curses” in
class. Harry and Hermione felt well prepared, having read up about them already
in the book about curses which they had discovered in Number Twelve’s library.
But seeing the spells performed on a hapless spider was another thing
altogether.
Many people giggled when the spider was forced to do tricks under the Imperius
Curse, until Moody made it nearly drown itself. Hermione grew more anxious with
each demonstration. The horrified expression on Neville’s face when the
Cruciatus Curse had been demonstrated was gut-wrenching enough, but seeing
Harry stare almost blankly when Moody had killed the spider with the Avada
Kedavra Curse was even worse somehow.
There was barely any indication that Harry felt anything at all until Moody had
pointed out that Harry was the only person known to have survived the Killing
Curse. Harry’s nostrils flared, and he turned slightly pink. Tears sprang to
Hermione’s eyes, sure that Harry must be thinking about his parents, and she
had to bite her lip hard to keep herself from losing it completely.
“That was a bloody brilliant lesson!” said Ron, grinning as he followed Harry
and Hermione to the Great Hall after class, “He really knows his stuff, Moody
does! The way that spider snuffed it when Moody did the Avada Kedavra...”
Hermione spun around furiously and nearly launched herself at Ron. Harry
clutched her around the waist, afraid that she might actually hit Ron.
“What is WRONG with you?” she shouted at Ron, hot tears scalding her cheeks.
“It’s alright Hermione...” Harry muttered, his own face reddening as other
students turned around to see what was going on. “Ron didn’t mean anything by
it.”
Ron gulped, looking half-ashamed and half-angry at Hermione’s sudden outburst.
His eyes darted to Harry’s arm around her waist, then he shrugged and stalked
away in the opposite direction.
“He’s such an insensitive prat!” Hermione sobbed as Harry led her into an empty
classroom. He held Hermione and stroked her hair as she let it all out.
“I’m s...sorry Harry! I
try
 to be nice to him because he’s your friend - really I do! B...but I just
c...can’t stand Ron sometimes! ... He’s alright too - sometimes... I suppose. I
thought things were better again between us all after he got an owl and a new
broom. And... and I know he just says things without thinking, but he’s just
been so obnoxious about everything lately...”
“Don’t apologise Hermione,” sighed Harry, giving her a gentle kiss. “Ron is a
bit thick! There’s an alright bloke in there somewhere though - he’ll grow up
sometime...” Harry trailed off, wondering if it was true, uncertain of his own
breaking point.
As the weeks wore on, Ron seemed in a reasonably good mood, and appeared to
have forgotten all about Hermione shouting at him. Though truth be told, as
Harry and Hermione had been so busy studying to keep up with their classes, he
had been hanging out with Seamus and Dean more again. And even when they
weren’t studying, Harry and Hermione always seemed busy with other things which
either seemed too much like homework, or which Ron thought were completely
ridiculous.
They had found little information in the library about house-elves beyond the
fact that house-elf slavery went back centuries, but they discovered one sunny
Friday afternoon that Luna’s father was apparently a treasure trove of
information on the subject.
“Not many people know that wizards enslaved house-elves after a horrible war,”
Luna proffered as they strolled along the shore of the lake. “It’s not in most
history books. I only know because Daddy did a lot of research for an article
about the cruelty of wizards towards other magical creatures once.”
Hermione’s ears perked up. “Luna, can I contact your father? I want to find out
more about it and do something. It’s not fair how house-elves are treated.”
“Absolutely Hermione!” Luna said, her silvery-grey eyes growing bigger,
thrilled to be asked. “Maybe we should start an organisation to help them...”
“Harry and I’ve already been thinking about that,” Hermione interjected
excitedly. “We can call it the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare...”
Harry chortled and shook his head. “Hermione, that would be a terrible acronym:
S.P.E.W. I think we should try and work on that...”
Hermione frowned pensively for a moment as Luna giggled.
“You’re right Harry,” said Hermione, turning a bit pink and giggling herself.
“That wouldn’t really be very conducive to eliciting sympathy for house-elves
would it!?”
“Anyway, we should probably talk to Dobby first,” Harry added. “If other house-
elves are more like Winky, we’ll have to rethink how to go about this...”
Harry waited until Luna went off to send a letter to her father, asking for
some of his archived articles about house-elves, then he pulled a small package
wrapped in sparkling gold paper out of his robes and handed it to Hermione.
“Happy Birthday Hermione!”
Delighted that Harry had remembered her fifteenth birthday, Hermione carefully
unwrapped the parcel; she unclasped the emerald velvet covered box inside and
gasped at the elegant pearl necklace within. Hermione had never been one for
wearing jewellery, as it hadn’t been something that her parents had ever
indulged in. Jewellery had never before caught her fascination beyond the
intellectual aspects of how precious gems and such were formed. But this was
different.
Hermione’s heart began to race; her whole body tingled. This was the first
piece of jewellery ever given to her by someone she loved, and the opalescent
sheen of the white pearls gleaming in the afternoon sun caught her eye.
“Oh Harry... it’s gorgeous! ” said Hermione, as she fluttered her glistening
eyelashes and bit her lip to stop herself from crying.
Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. He’d never seen Hermione wearing
jewellery, but he had taken the risk nonetheless.
“I thought it would match your evening gown and dress robes,” Harry said
softly.
“Thank you Harry! I’ll always treasure it!” Hermione responded breathily.
Hermione carefully stowed the little green box in her robes and put her arms
around Harry’s neck, drawing him in for a kiss. Their lips met tenderly and
Harry’s hands encircled Hermione’s slender waist. The kiss deepened, growing
more heated as they embraced under the willow tree by the edge of the
shimmering blue lake, the afternoon sun catching the golden highlights of
Hermione’s hair.
***** I'll Be Home for Easter *****
Narcissa paced back and forth in one of the parlours of Black Manor - her empty
ancestral home - pondering her predicament. It was clear that her husband and
her son had both forsaken her. She had hoped that her relationships could be
salvaged, but her husband’s words, “Blood Traitor,” echoed in her mind.
Harsh though they were, Narcissa had to concede that those words contained a
modicum of truth. And the venomous hate that she had seen in her son’s eye when
he had reminded her that she was a Malfoy by name only, reinforced the fact
that it was she who had changed.
At one time Narcissa had shared the views of her husband, as had many back in
those days before the end of the war. She had grown up believing what her
parents had taught her. But when her son had been born, Narcissa began to
doubt. And when the Dark Lord had been defeated, she had hoped to put the past
behind her.
The memory that she had once supported many of the “questionable choices” her
husband had made in the service of the Dark Lord now brought Narcissa nothing
but shame. The path that now lay before her was uncertain, the choice she faced
would define her very existence.
Narcissa considered seeking the counsel of her sister Andromeda, who had long
ago cast aside the traditions of Blood Purity to marry a muggleborn. But there
was little love lost between Narcissa and her sister, and she doubted that she
would be welcomed. There was another that Narcissa had trusted, but she was
uncertain as to where his loyalties truly lay.
                                     ~o0o~
Severus Snape regarded the fireplace in his office with some apprehension. He
had been surprised when an owl had delivered an unmarked envelope at breakfast;
he couldn’t recall the last time that he had received a piece of mail. The
contents of the envelope had been equally perplexing; the floo address it
contained was one he hadn’t seen before and he pondered its significance. He
wasn’t sure if he should take the risk that it possibly presented.
Having made a decision, Snape finally flung the powder into the hearth and
stepped into the green flames. Emerging from the fireplace at the other end of
the floo connection, he lifted an eyebrow as he peered at his surroundings,
which appeared to be the parlour of an uninhabited manor.
Many of the pieces of furniture were covered with white sheets. And only the
few exposed furnishings and the woman present were any indication that the
manor was not quite as uninhabited as it appeared to be.
“Thank you for coming Severus,” greeted Narcissa.
Severus swallowed with trepidation when he noted the tears glistening in
Narcissa's long dark eyelashes. Dealing with tearful witches was something he
had little experience with, and it unnerved him. His heart pounded and there
was a slight ringing in his ears when Narcissa took his arm in hers and led him
to the long plush deep-red sofa near the hearth.
Orange flames flared where there had previously been green ones, and bathed the
room in a warm flickering glow. Severus sat stiffly where Narcissa bade him.
Narcissa unstoppered the 175 year old bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy and poured
some into two crystal snifters sitting on the mahogany coffee table before
seating herself closely beside him.
They both sat in silence.
Snape swirled his goblet and inhaled the bouquet before taking a sip. The
smooth rich liqueur washed over his tongue and steadied his nerves. Narcissa
sipped from her glass and placed it back on the coffee table, heaving a deep
breath. She took Severus’s unoccupied hand in her own two soft hands.
Severus’s features were inscrutable, but he was certain that she could feel his
pulse racing. Anxiously, he drained his own goblet before setting it down.
Narcissa nervously cleared her throat before speaking.
“Severus... I must know. How close are you to my husband?”
Snape stiffened, nostrils flaring, uncertain where this was leading. Could this
be some sort of test of his loyalties - a trap? Quickly, he considered the
ramifications of telling the truth. It was possible that Lucius had set this
up, believing that Severus had betrayed him by calling his son to account for
what he had done to the Greengrass girl, but Narcissa’s eyes said otherwise.
And even if it were a test, would there be much point to denying the truth at
this stage, given the recent turn of events? It was clear that Snape couldn’t
maintain his cover with the Malfoys for much longer anyway. The only thing
unclear, was how far Lucius was willing to go. Severus’s death at Lucius’s
hands was a distinct possibility.
But as Severus continued to gaze into Narcissa’s eyes, her soul lay bare for
him to see. She knew what he was - a Legilimens - yet she was allowing him
complete access to her mind. It was readily apparent that Lucius was unaware of
his wife’s meeting with Severus.
Nevertheless, Severus was reticent to respond, the conversation possibly
leading in an uncomfortably personal direction. But Narcissa was not to be put
off by his silence.
“You have always been so kind to my family Severus. You have looked after my
son at Hogwarts and treated him with respect... and I thank you for that. You
provided my husband with friendship and companionship...”
A flame sparked in Narcissa’s pleading tearful eyes. “Please, I must know.”
Severus swallowed, and pain tautened his features as he made his decision.
“Narcissa, I...” Severus finally began, eyebrows raised, his voice lurching,
“what I am about to tell you... I hope you can forgive me... The day Lucius and
MacNair kept watch as the Dark Lord ended the life of Lily Potter, is the day
our friendship truly died. I have - since the day that I learned Lily was a
target - been Dumbledore’s Spy. And Lucius... my enemy.”
Bewilderment flooded Severus when Narcissa heaved a sigh of relief, her
features brightening, and he felt a warmth creep up his arm from the hand she
had clasped between her own.
“Thank you Severus,” Narcissa gasped as her breath quickened. “I needed to hear
that...”
As the tears ran down her cheeks, she drew closer to Severus. “I... I fear that
I am lost to my husband - I no longer believe as he believes... I can no longer
pretend that I share his convictions. I had hoped that one day he would give up
his obsession with Blood Purity, but he is more determined than ever...
“And... and I fear that I have also lost my only son to the same obsession...
Please, Severus, you have seen into Draco’s heart and soul - is there even a
small chance that he can learn a new way of thinking... learn to see that Blood
Purity is a dead end? Or is he lost to me forever?”
Severus let out a sigh, knowing now that Narcissa would not like the answer.
“Perhaps one day...” he began haltingly, “...perhaps in the far flung future,
it may be possible that Draco will come to see things as you see them - but not
today.
“Not as long as Draco continues to believe that his actions have no consequence
to himself... Not as long as he continues to believe that he is the centre of
the universe - that other people’s lives are insignificant compared to his
own... Nor as long as he continues to worship the ground his father walks upon,
and continues to have his every whim indulged by Lucius.
“Draco is his father’s son; he wants nothing more than to make his father proud
- to become a Death Eater - and I do not see Draco’s desire to live up to his
father’s expectations wavering in the slightest. And I believe that Draco’s
heart is only further hardening as the consequences of his actions begin to
catch up to him... He is heading further down a path of Darkness.
“Narcissa... It pains me to say this, but it may be that only Azkaban can save
Draco from himself now...”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry and Dora both eyed the fireplace in Dumbledore’s office with some
distaste, and Hermione didn’t look much happier. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as
he beckoned the three reticent youngsters towards the green flames.
“You sure about this?” Dora grumbled. “There’s still time to catch the Hogwarts
Express, you know.”
“Indeed,” said Dumbledore. “However, this is the safest means of travel for
Harry now that Voldemort is reconstituted. There is no question that Voldemort
will continue to take any opportunity to seek Harry out.”
“He’s right Harry,” said Hermione, peering at Harry with concern.
“Yeah, I know,” sighed Harry resignedly, nodding. “Guess this is it then - see
you on the other side.”
And with that, Harry stepped into the green flames, emerging dizzily into
Number Twelve’s parlour coughing and wheezing as ashes swirled around him.
Hermione was in no better state when she arrived moments later, hacking and
sooty. Finally, Dora stumbled out of the fire and tripped on the hearth.
Fortunately, Harry had recovered enough to catch her before she hit the floor.
“Ta Harry,” Dora managed to gasp between coughs.
“There she is. My little cousin Dora... graceful as ever,” chortled Sirius.
Lupin chuckled and shook his head at Sirius.
“Oi... watch it Sirius,” Dora retorted, shooting Sirius a glare as she dusted
herself off, before addressing the wizard beside him, “Wotcher Lupin!”
“Hello Tonks,” said Lupin, smiling. “Harry, Hermione... good to see you both
looking so well.”
Harry grinned to see Sirius and Lupin. Hermione’s mother and aunt stood beside
them, regarding the fireplace with no small amount of awe as the green flames
became orange once more.
“Mum!” Hermione squealed happily, nearly flattening her mother as she flew
across the floor and swept her into a big hug.
“I’ve missed you too darling,” Jean Granger laughed as she returned her
daughter’s embrace and gave her a kiss as Hermione’s aunt beamed at them both.
There were hugs to be had all around as Harry and Hermione were welcomed home,
and Jean was pleased that Harry no longer flinched at her touch. He was taller
than when last she had seen him, and seemed more grown up than ever - in fact
he and Hermione both did.
As Harry peered around Number Twelve’s parlour, he wondered for a moment why it
seemed so different. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realised
that he was looking at the most enormous television that he had ever seen.
Without a doubt, Uncle Vernon - who was obsessed with having bigger and newer
model gadgets than the neighbours at Privet Drive - would be apoplectic with
jealousy if he could have seen it. Hermione and Dora were equally stunned when
they spotted it.
“Ah yes,” Sirius grinned. “I reckoned it was about time we caught up with the
muggle world...”
“Oh hush,” admonished Hermione’s aunt, “We know you did it to keep me and Jean
occupied and keep us from getting bored.”
“Indeed,” Sirius agreed. “Still, it was one thing to see the occasional muggle
film, but I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on...”
“That’s brilliant!” Harry interjected with a huge grin on his face. “How did
you do it?”
“Fortunately, Number Twelve’s library is quite exhaustive,” Lupin responded.
“Sirius and I located the book with the necessary charms for operating
electronics purely on magic after a brief search.”
“And thanks to Remus’s ingenuity, we’re able to pick up American as well as
British channels, so there’s always something to watch,” Sirius beamed. “And we
picked up a VCR while we were at it...”
“And as you can see,” said Lupin, rolling his eyes and pointing to the
electronic equipment next to the TV, “Sirius also purchased the most expensive
stereo system available...”
“Well, there’s no point in not having the best as I can well afford it,” Sirius
retorted with a grin. “Anyway Harry, there’s also a television and a stereo
system in the ‘Bridal Suite’ so that you and Hermione can enjoy your
entertainment anytime you please - lazing in bed, or whatever else you’re
getting up to...”
Harry and Hermione both turned pink.
“Er... Bridal Suite?” they squeaked in unison, glancing at Hermione’s mother
who seemed to be trying her best not to laugh. Lupin rubbed at his forehead,
eyebrows raised, trying to hide a wry little smile. Dora chortled at the
expressions on Harry and Hermione’s faces.
“Oh yes, we redid your adjoining rooms to be more befitting of a married
couple,” said Sirius breezily. “Take a look.” Sirius led Harry and Hermione
through Number 12 to their rooms.
Sure enough, they had been remodeled a bit. Harry’s room - now Hermione’s as
well - was more or less the same, though it now contained a television and
stereo system; the other room had been converted into a private sitting room,
and a luxurious bathroom had been added. Hermione gasped when she peered in the
wardrobe and found several new evening gowns alongside Harry’s tuxedo.
As promised by Hermione’s mother, a “small” celebration of the Potters’
marriage was held - beginning with an early dinner at another one of London’s
finest restaurants, followed by an evening of dancing at a London nightclub.
Harry was delighted to see Hermione in an evening gown again. Dora grumbled at
being cajoled into dressing up for the occasion.
At the end of the evening, they returned to Number Twelve and retired to the
parlour where wedding cake and champagne was served by Sirius and Lupin. And
though Harry and Hermione were worn out, they watched a bit of television with
everyone before going to bed.
Harry had finished getting ready first. He clambered into the bed sighing
happily, though feeling a bit awkward at the idea that Hermione’s mother was
under the same roof, perfectly aware of what her daughter would be getting up
to. Pushing that thought aside, while waiting for Hermione, he decided to have
a go at practicing his metamorphmagus talent, remembering that there was one
thing that he had yet to master.
He turned pink when Hermione returned from the bathroom, having finished
washing up and cleaning her teeth a bit quicker than he thought she would.
“What are you doing Harry?”
“Oh... er... erm... practicing?”
Hermione peered at him in amusement and she raised her eyebrows. Harry was
waiting for her in bed without any pyjamas on and he had looked up at her like
a deer caught in headlights after quickly dropping the covers over himself. She
had a sneaking suspicion what he might have been working on.
“Hmm... You wouldn’t happen to be ‘practicing’ your metamorphic talent on a
certain body part would you?” Hermione asked with a straight face.
Hermione burst into giggles when Harry turned a deeper shade of red. Hermione
pulled off her nightie and leapt onto the bed completely starkers.
“Come on, let’s see it then...” she grinned, lifting up the covers. “Oh!” she
said, seeing that Harry was back to normal.
“You sound disappointed.”
“NO! I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean...”
Harry launched a tickle attack and soon Hermione was rolling on the bed with
tears of laughter streaming down her face. Hermione ended up on her back
gasping for air, nipples hardening, with Harry between her naked thighs gazing
softly into her brown eyes. Harry kissed her, gently brushing his fingers
across her cheeks.
“Next time I’ll practice with your assistance,” Harry said playfully, “I’m
sorry, I just got embarrassed.”
“I know,” Hermione responded, still feeling a bit giggly. “But just to be
perfectly clear, as entertaining as the idea of playing with you in girl-form
is, I want you to know that I will never be disappointed with this!” Hermione
concluded with a grin as she clasped Harry’s erection in her soft warm hand and
guided him to her slit.
Harry kissed Hermione again as he thrust into her depths, and soon the bed
rocked with passion.
                                     ~o0o~
Hermione sighed happily as she woke, her naked body pressed right up against
Harry’s. It felt good to be with him in his bed again - her bed too she
reminded herself - at Number 12, which she was beginning to think of as home.
She spied the tent in the covers and giggled to herself, feeling rather naughty
at the idea of waking Harry in the manner which he enjoyed the most, while
under the same roof as her mother. Hermione ducked her bushy head under the
covers and wriggled down, taking care not to wake Harry until just the right
moment.
Gingerly, Hermione took Harry’s stiffness in her mouth, wrapping her lips
around it. She felt it twitch as her tongue swirled around the tip and licked
the shaft. Gradually, Hermione pressed forth until she felt the crown of
Harry’s stiffness against the back of her throat. She heard a gasp of pleasure,
and knew that Harry was awake.
Harry woke with a grin. He loved it when Hermione roused him like this. Her
naked bottom jutted out from under the covers as she continued to pleasure him.
Harry brushed his fingers against Hermione’s inner thigh and she trembled
slightly at his touch. Hermione parted her thighs happily understanding what
Harry wanted, and lifted one knee to the other side of Harry’s head.
Harry cradled Hermione’s cheeks with both hands and gently pulled her backside
down until his lips reached her heated slit. He darted his tongue out and
licked the length of her fold before entering her. Hermione tingled as Harry
alternated between plunging his tongue into her wet sheath and jiggling it
against her little pearl.
Elation surged within Harry as Hermione continued her ministrations. His loins
felt the urge to move and he began to thrust himself deeper. Harry finally lost
it, and with a groan he erupted.
A convulsive charge rippled through Hermione and she burst, releasing her own
dewiness as they both wriggled ecstatically. Sparks of magic crackled; the bed
shook and the lamp on the nightstand tumbled to the floor and shattered.
There was a knocking at the bedroom door. Hermione’s head flew out from under
the covers in alarm and without thinking she sat on Harry’s face.
“Is everything alright in there,” Jean Granger’s concerned voice called out.
“Y... yes Mum!” Hermione squeaked, Harry’s stickiness dribbling from her lips.
“W... we’re fine. I... er... just knocked over a lamp getting out of bed,” she
fibbed.
Jean smiled to herself and shook her head on the other side of the door.
Hermione had always been dreadful at lying. Jean sighed as she made her way
down the stairs to the kitchen, feeling a swell of awkwardness at having
embarrassed her daughter, and no doubt her son-in-law as well.
“I’m so sorry Harry,” Hermione apologised profusely as she leapt up and Harry
gasped for air, “I forgot to set a silencing charm on the room. Are you
alright?”
Hermione’s expression turned to bewilderment as Harry burst into guffaws.
“Are you joking Hermione?” Harry gasped when he managed to catch a breath,
“That was brilliant... I haven’t had such a good laugh in ages... But what
happened? Did we release some accidental magic again?”
“I think so...” Hermione nodded, grinning.
She giggled as another wave of naughtiness swept through her. She dragged her
husband out of bed and into their private bathroom. They set a silencing charm
and the steam rose as they turned on the shower.
                                     ~o0o~
The end of the Easter holidays arrived far too soon, and on the last day they
had just finished breakfast when Sirius regarded the Potters solemnly; he
glanced at Lupin who nodded with an encouraging look.
“Harry, Remus and I have decided to come up to Hogwarts to help keep an eye on
things. We don’t want to just leave it in the rest of the Order’s hands...”
“Wait...” said Harry, puzzlement crossing his features, “Doesn’t the Ministry
still have an arrest warrant for... er...” It suddenly occurred to Harry that
it was a bit weird to call Lupin by his surname, as he was much more family
than professor.
“...erm... for Remus?” Harry concluded, thinking it still sounded a bit funny
coming from his own mouth. Lupin looked particularly pleased to hear Harry
addressing him thusly.
“Indeed they do,” Lupin replied. “However, Sirius and I will be staying in the
Shrieking Shack, and I am quite capable of performing a disillusionment charm
should I need to leave it for some reason.”
“And my animagus form is still unkown to the Ministry, so nobody except a few
key Order members have to know that I am there,” Sirius added.
“But what about Mum, and Auntie Joanne?” asked Hermione, looking concerned.
“Will they be able to stay in a magical home by themselves?”
“Ah, well that shouldn’t be a problem,” said Sirius. “Dumbledore spoke with
Madam Bones, and she’s agreed to allow Auror Abigail Brixton to take a leave-
of-absence to look after Jean and Joanne.”
“Abbie? Really?” Dora’s eyes widened in surprise.
“That’s the Auror who was interviewing Bob Ogden, wasn’t she?” said Hermione.
“The one you like?”
“Yeah!” Dora nodded. “I suppose that makes sense seeing as she’s muggleborn.
She should get on nicely with your mum and aunt.”
“That’s what Dumbledore and Madam Bones thought as well,” Sirius agreed.
“Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you, is that I’m signing over one of the
Black vaults at Gringotts and deeding Number 12 to you Harry... Consider it a
wedding present for you and Hermione!”
Harry’s jaw dropped. To say that he was stunned was an understatement.
Speechlessly he shared a look with Hermione, who seemed equally flabbergasted.
And it was apparent from the astonished expressions on Hermione’s mother and
aunt’s faces that this was the first they’d heard of it.
“But... but where will you live after...” Harry began when his voice returned.
“...er... after everything has been settled...” he continued hopefully,
wondering if everything would be settled eventually.
“That ought not be a problem really,” said Sirius. “Remus and I should be able
to take up residence in Black Manor. It passed into the other side of the
family when my mother’s brother - Cygnus - inherited it. But as his daughters,
my cousins - Andromeda, Narcissa, and Bellatrix - are all married and share the
homes of their husbands, being the next heir in line by rights it belongs to me
now.”
“Oh... er... alright then,” said Harry, feeling somewhat disappointed as he
liked living with Sirius. Sirius seemed to know what Harry was thinking, as he
smiled at Harry and tried to console him.
“Don’t worry Harry, you’ll always be part of my life,” he said gently, “...but
you and Hermione will be needing a home of your own.”
                                     ~o0o~
When Harry returned to Hogwarts with Hermione, he was surprised to have
received a letter while he was gone. The owl had arrived at breakfast the
following morning, but it was clear from the stamp that the letter had
originally been sent by muggle post. He frowned in perplex when he saw who it
was from.
“That’s odd,” Harry told Hermione, “I wonder why Dudley would be writing to me.
I can’t imagine Uncle Vernon allowing him to...”
Unfortunately, as classes had resumed, Harry didn’t have a chance to open it.
Hermione noticed that Harry could barely concentrate during lessons, as
distracted as he was, and took extra care to make sure that her notes were
complete. Finally, classes were finished but Harry sighed, knowing that they
ought to keep up with their exercise regimen.
“Don’t worry Harry,” Hermione insisted. “It won’t hurt to take one more day
off.”
“Yeah... I suppose not,” Harry agreed. “I just didn’t want Professor Moody to
think I’d gone soft over the holidays.”
As soon as the Potters were back in their quarters, Harry hurriedly tore open
the envelope and began to read as Hermione looked over his shoulder. He was
surprised to see the letter covered with splotchy tear stains.
Dear Harry,
I wasn’t sure of sending this letter by regular post, and I hope you get it. I
didn’t know what else to do as I don’t have anyone else to talk to, and it has
to do with you anyway.
While I was at home for Easter holidays, Mum and Dad had huge row. Dad said
you’re not to come back this summer, or ever again. He said he was tired of
being bossed around by a bunch of freaks in his own house.
When Mum said that you had to stay because it was the only way to protect you
from the man who killed your parents, Dad went completely bonkers. He started
hitting Mum when she wouldn’t back down. I tried to stop him, but he gave me a
black eye, and then he knocked Mum down the stairs.
She’s in the hospital right now with a concussion, a broken arm, and a few
broken ribs. She won’t tell the doctors what really happened. I want to call
the police, but she said not to, and that she would tell them that she just
fell down the stairs if I did.
I can’t think what to do, and I was hoping that you could help. Maybe you could
ask that big hairy bloke who told you that you’re a wizard to come and sort
things out with Dad. I know Dad’s afraid of him. Please, I really need help.
Dudley
To say that Harry was shocked when he had finished reading the letter was an
understatement. He really wasn’t sure what to think. The fact that Dudley was
asking for Hagrid - who had given Dudley a pig’s tail - showed how desperate he
was.
Harry glanced at Hermione who looked absolutely appalled, tears trickling down
her cheeks. As he remembered the things that Uncle Vernon had done to him, he
suspected that Hermione probably couldn’t help but experience a flashback to
what her own father had done to her mother. He was proved right when she spoke
up.
“That... that’s so awful,” Hermione said haltingly. “As... b...bad as what my
dad did to Mum is, it’s not nearly as dreadful as what your uncle did. And...
and at least m...my father knows wh...what he did was wrong. I still c...can’t
believe you had to live with such a horrible person.”
Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He rather thought it was just as
awful in its own way, though he had to admit that it was probably because he
loved Hermione so much, and because he really liked her mother. But he also
knew that Hermione still loved her father despite being very angry at him.
For himself, as Harry ruminated on the turn of events, one thing was very
clear; he hated Uncle Vernon with a vengeance. Harry was none too fond of Aunt
Petunia either, recalling how she had once tried to bean him on the noggin with
a frying pan - though in retrospect, he had to admit it had been a rather half-
hearted swipe. And Harry was more than a bit startled that she had stood up to
Uncle Vernon for him.
Harry reckoned that she must actually care for him a bit after all. He supposed
that Aunt Petunia still felt something for her sister - Harry’s mother - more
than she had ever let on. Feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion, blinking
back tears, he knew that he couldn’t leave Aunt Petunia and Dudley in Uncle
Vernon’s hands, no matter how afraid Aunt Petunia was to leave Uncle Vernon.
“Hermione, I want to help, but I’m not sure what to do. I don’t know how Sirius
would feel about Petunia and Dudley living at Number 12...”
“It’s alright Harry - Sirius will understand. Besides, Number 12 belongs to you
now. If you want to have them there, it’s up to you.”
“Oh yeah... right! That’s true...” Harry’s eyebrows shot up. It still hadn’t
quite sunk in that he was now the owner of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
“But you should probably talk to Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione. “I’m not
sure how this will affect the protection charms based on your Mum’s sacrifice.”
“Yeah... yeah, you’re right Hermione,” Harry replied, nodding. “But whatever he
says, I don’t care about the charms. I’m not going to let Uncle Vernon hurt
them anymore...”
                                     ~o0o~
Dumbledore peered at the letter from Dudley again and sighed as he considered
the ramifications. This presented a serious problem, yet he knew that Harry was
right. Vernon Dursley had made it plain, in no uncertain terms, that Harry
could no longer reside at Number 4 Privet Drive.
In the end, Harry’s plan made the most sense - not just from a moral
perspective, but from a logistical one too. As long as Petunia resided under
the same roof as Harry, the protection charms ought to still be effective.
“Very well Harry,” Dumbledore agreed, “I am uncertain how your aunt will feel
about the move. It is possible that she might feel as if she is being kidnapped
- but if your cousin Dudley accepts your invitation to move to Number 12, I
expect that your aunt will join him.”
“Excellent! I’ll send a letter to Dudley straight away...” began Harry.
“I think perhaps that we should move with great haste,” Dumbledore interjected.
“I will meet with your cousin immediately, and together he and I shall visit
your aunt in the hospital and convince Petunia to live at Number 12. I am not
sure what to do about your uncle though. The charms placed on you also protect
him from Voldemort.”
“I don’t care about him,” said Harry, his features hardening as his nostrils
flared with anger. “He can go hang as far I’m concerned.”
Hermione glanced at Harry sadly, biting her lip. Dumbledore peered into Harry’s
eyes with some apprehension, then he sighed and nodded, his features softening.
“I understand your feelings Harry,” he said gently, “Given the hardships that
you have borne - that I myself bear some responsibility for - I cannot blame
you in the slightest. Truly you are far more forgiving than anyone has any
right to expect from you.
“To be willing to take in your aunt and cousin - who themselves were both
responsible for much of the abuse heaped upon you in your formative years - is
a true demonstration of your sterling character... No doubt your uncle belongs
in prison, where he can no longer cause anyone harm.
“Regardless Harry, I cannot in good conscience simply leave your uncle -
despite all the suffering he has inflicted upon you - to face the all too
likely prospect of being murdered by Voldemort without at least offering him
some options...
“I myself will approach him and give him the choice of remaining at Number 4
Privet Drive, or being relocated to some foreign country, beyond Voldemort’s
reach. Whatever choice he makes will be entirely up to him... If Vernon Dursley
wishes to remain at Number 4, then so be it...”
                                     ~o0o~
Draco knew better than to expect to return home for Easter - he never had
before - but it was of little concern to him. He was leaving Hogwarts at the
first opportunity he got, but there was someone who deserved some retribution
before he left. And with a little careful planning Draco would be leaving with
a valuable prize indeed - something which would cause his enemy pain, something
which Draco deserved more than anything.
Once he returned home, Draco reckoned that Father might be a bit cross at
first, but Draco knew that he would understand. There was no way that Draco was
going to remain at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore was in charge. And with a bit
of luck, perhaps he could convince Father to send him to Durmstrang instead.
Following the end of Easter, and several letters back and forth, Draco received
two packages in the post. His eyes narrowed when he addressed Crabbe, Goyle,
and Nott in the Slytherin Common Room after breakfast. He waited until the rest
of Slytherin cleared out for classes. The less people who knew about this the
better.
“Right you lot,” Draco addressed his gang with an authoritative glare, “Now
don’t forget who’s boss around here. If any of you rat me out, I’ll make sure
Fenrir Greyback knows how to find you. He’s done some work for Father before,
so don’t think that I don’t know him and that I’m just pretending.”
Crabbe and Goyle nodded their heads fearfully. They had no doubt about that, as
their fathers had also done some “work” for the Malfoy Warlock on occasion.
Theodore Nott smirked at them. Draco opened the first parcel and his friend and
his minions oohed with awe.
Draco’s new wand was a masterpiece of construction, 10 inches of ebony stained
wood with a carved spiral along its length. Its grip was a silver serpent’s
head which glittered in the flickering light of the common room fire.
“It’s a Gregorovitch Wand made to order based on the specifications of the wand
that Snape stole from me,” Draco remarked. “My friend Gehlen says Gregorovitch
makes Ollivander look like an amateur.”
Pleased with the way it felt in his hand, Draco waved his new wand about and
tried a couple of simple transfigurations. His mug turned into a mouse and
scurried away. Delighted, Draco opened his second parcel. His gangs’ eyes all
widened, and they gasped as one as Draco carefully unfolded a silvery piece of
fabric.
“This was much harder to come by, and it was bloody expensive” said Draco
proudly. “Gehlen tracked down an Italian Wizard who makes really good ones -
but he only makes two or three a year. I was very lucky that he had one in
stock.”
***** Ch 37: The Tempest Pt 1: Batten Down the Hatches *****
Unable to stay asleep any longer, Albus Dumbledore poured himself a hot cup of
Darjeeling, squeezed in a bit of lemon and stirred in a single spoon of honey.
Fawkes grumbled and squawked at having been woken so early - as did the
portrait of Phineas Nigellus which Dumbledore just ignored.
The headmaster was pleased that things seemed to be coming along nicely at
Number 12 with Petunia and Dudley Dursley - both Evanses now, he reminded
himself, having convinced Petunia that she should file for divorce and seek
full custody of her son - and with Jean Granger and her sister.
It would not have been at all feasible without a wizard to manage the magical
residence and monitor the situation now that Sirius and Remus had taken up
residence at the Shrieking Shack to be closer to the centre of the action. But
Abbie Brixton appeared to be doing a fine job, and she had indicated that
things had been going as well as could be expected the past couple of months,
given the disparate personalities of the family members of both Potters.
Which was good, because things were clearly coming to a head. Given the
situation at the Ministry, it was clear that Harry would have no longer been
able to reside at Number 4 Privet Drive anyway, even if Vernon Dursley hadn’t
been so intransigent. While safe from Voldemort there, Harry was vulnerable to
the Minister - who had made it plain as day that her interest in Harry Potter
was as obsessive as that of the self-styled “Dark Lord.”
And it was ever more clear that though Voldemort posed the most immediate
threat - barring the Triwizard Tournament of course - that the Minister was
beginning to look like the bigger long-term threat by far.
The Minister’s political skills were masterful, and her agenda - much the same
as Voldemort’s - threatened to undo over a century of progress in wizarding
Britain in a way which Riddle could never have hoped to achieve through brute
force alone.
As “Lord” Voldemort, Tom Riddle had frightened many into seeing things his way,
but his habit of murdering his own supporters in fits of psychotic rage had
also made that support rather wobbly. A fact that the current Minister had
exploited to her great advantage in Voldemort's absence.
It was also clear that if Harry survived the Tournament, that the Minister
would escalate and move to secure the Ministry completely in an effort to drive
Harry Potter and the Order underground.
Another fact was that Amelia Bones was in danger while Voldemort lived. The
Bones Family had been targeted with extreme prejudice and nearly wiped out by
Voldemort in the last war, the only survivors being Susan Bones’s parents, and
her Great-Aunt Amelia. It was almost a certainty that Voldemort would want to
finish the job.
And now it was also quite probable that the Minister would find some means to
wrest the DMLE from Amelia’s control. An assassination attempt by Minister
Umbridge was also a distinct possibility while Voldemort remained at large as a
convenient scapegoat, whenever she deigned to reveal his return. Should she
gain complete control of the Ministry, the Minister would no doubt attempt to
take Hogwarts at her earliest opportunity.
Dumbledore dipped his quill in his inkwell and began to scribble a rough plan.
Dawlish and Shacklebolt would have to stay glued to Amelia at the Ministry for
the time being, but she would not be safe in her own home. Harry had indicated
that he would feel better if the Evanses and his wife’s family had extra
magical protection. Perhaps if Amelia also took up temporary residence in
Number 12 that would meet everyone’s needs.
As to the Order itself, it was clear that Hogwarts could not be left unattended
over the summer. It was likely to be targeted by both Voldemort and the
Minister. It might be best for the Professors to remain at Hogwarts this year.
And every effort must be made to protect the members of the School’s Board of
Governors. Their homes must be provided with the highest levels of security.
And now that the Order had a media outlet to counter the Minister’s propaganda,
Mr Lovegood’s facilities would also have to be protected - possibly moved to a
new location altogether.
Meanwhile, further efforts were necessary to locate and finish Voldemort and
his horcruxes - the sooner the better. As long as the Minister appeared to be
the bigger threat, Voldemort was a thorn in the Order’s side, and the Order’s
attention divided.
And as to the odd magical power surges, Dumbledore had a strong suspicion that
the Potters were somehow behind them - and he had a reasonably good idea of how
they were producing them. One thing at least had been made clear by the
instruments which monitored Hogwarts, the magic - whether in the raw outbursts,
or in the apparent directed applications - was highly purified and refined.
Traces of such high frequency magic in Ireland, Britain, and Europe were these
days to be found only in ancient magical sites associated with Witchcraft,
which were currently ascribed by muggles to primeval Goddess worshippers.
The only other time Dumbledore had personally come across such magic was during
a tour of the Orient when he had been introduced to an Ashram in India, a
Temple in Tibet, and a Temple in China’s Wudang range, all of which bore the
signature of similar magic, and all of them the only schools dedicated to
witchcraft in otherwise male dominated magical traditions. But their secrets
had been fiercely guarded by the witches who maintained them.
And if anything, the mysterious magic had strengthened every defence which
Hogwarts possessed. With each event of the raw outbursts - three in just the
course of last night’s dinner-time, and the one several months ago - and with
each event of the applied magic of the same frequency signature, which had been
occurring on a regular basis in that time period - the power of the protection
charms which warded the castle had increased tenfold.
With some direction, the magic could be utilised to provide an unmatchable
level of security for Hogwarts. But for the meantime, Dumbledore felt it wise
to simply let it flourish on its own... at least until the conclusion of the
Triwizard Tournament. And perhaps it would also be wise to follow up on
Alastor’s most recent suggestion.
Confident now that he had addressed all of his immediate concerns, Albus
Dumbledore lay down his quill, sighed, and poured himself a fresh cup of tea.
                                     ~o0o~
In the final weeks leading up to the Third Task, Harry and Hermione had never
been busier. Especially Hermione as, unlike Harry, she still faced final exams
at the end of June. The Champions had all been given the break from exams as it
was expected that they would all be studying and training as hard as they could
to make it through the Tournament.
It was during the last week of May, not long after Harry and Hermione had had
their first real argument, when they were approached by Professor McGonagall
during Transfigurations. She had a dour expression, which wasn’t uncommon for
McGonagall.
“Potter... and Potter, if you would, I’d like a word with the both of you after
class today.”
“Er... what’s this about Professor?” asked Harry.
“After class Mr Potter.”
Of course Harry and Hermione could think of nothing else during the rest of the
lesson. Even Hermione was having trouble concentrating. Finally class was
finished, and the rest of the students began filing out of the classroom.
“Alright then,” McGonagall began, her voice crisp, once the class was empty of
all but her and the Potters. “I have been in consultations with the headmaster,
and it his considered opinion that you - Mrs Potter - are to be relieved of the
burdens of final exams...”
“Oh no!” Hermione squeaked in disappointment - though Harry appeared to be very
grateful.
“Quite!” said the Professor, looking as if she very much agreed with Hermione’s
sentiments. “It was brought to my attention by Professor Moody and the
headmaster that you have been providing Mr Potter with unprecedented levels of
assistance...”
Harry swallowed nervously and glanced at Hermione, who peered back at him,
equally anxious - both wondering if their plans had been found out.
“In any case,” McGonagall continued, “after the necessity for you both to focus
your attentions in these last few weeks before the Third Task became clear to
me, I could only but agree with the headmaster’s concerns. So... there you have
it Mrs Potter - you are clear to do your utmost to help Mr Potter without the
distractions of studying for finals...”
Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. He couldn’t be happier; it had become very
clear to him that Hermione was becoming overloaded and experiencing high levels
of stress - though she would never admit it. The Potters both thought
McGonagall was finished and turned to leave, but the Professor had one last
thing to say.
“Oh... And Mrs Potter, do try and keep Mr Potter alive, won’t you?”
Both turning pink, Harry and Hermione scurried out of the classroom as quick as
their feet could carry them.
“D’you think they all know?” Harry whispered, as they made their way to the
next class.
“I’m not really sure Harry,” said Hermione. “It does seem very suspicious, but
I rather think that Professor McGonagall would have put her foot down if she
found out, so I doubt it.”
Things seemed even odder when Snape held them both back after Potions the
following day. Harry stared at Snape feeling very perplexed, and Hermione bit
her lip, wondering what was going on. After the usual awkward moment whenever
Snape tried to talk to them, he finally began after heaving a weary sigh.
“Potter... It has been brought to my... attention, that you may be facing some
rather... extreme circumstances in the upcoming final task. Given the severity
of the situation, I have deemed it wise to bestow upon you some knowledge which
you may find particularly beneficial.”
At this point, Snape reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a tatty
old potions book with ragged edges and frayed bindings. The Potters’ eyes were
drawn to it as Snape slid it across his desk.
“That’s a sixth year potions book...” said Hermione, looking very puzzled.
“Indeed... That is most perceptive of you, Mrs Potter!”
Harry lifted an eyebrow, wondering if Snape was being sarcastic. It was hard to
tell sometimes.
“In any case,” Snape continued, his features inscrutable, “this book is more
than just any sixth year potions book - it was my own. And it contains in the
margins annotations, including some very useful spells - many of them of my own
invention. There is one in particular that should prove quite... efficacious,
in situations requiring extreme measures.
“Now one might ask... why I do not simply tell you the spell, and retain the
book for myself? I had considered it, but as it so happens, I believe that you
will both be needing it. The lessons from your current year are clearly not
challenging enough for either of you...
“And I have no doubt that next year’s will be equally undemanding. So at the
earliest opportunity, you are both to begin Advanced Potions with me. Clearly,
this is not the time - however, it seems likely that you will have plenty of
time this summer...”
Incredulous and unable to help himself, Harry blurted out, “Wait... did you
just say this summer?”
“Yes Potter...” Snape gave Harry a withering look. “Keep up, won’t you?”
“Er... sorry sir!” Harry flushed. “I just... I mean... er... Why this summer?”
“You will have to ask the headmaster,” Snape replied, still looking impatient.
“Perhaps he means me to give you private lessons at your home. I am not always
privy to Professor Dumbledore’s reasons for his instructions, and it is not my
place to question the headmaster. Now, if there are to be no further
questions...”
Harry bit his tongue.
“Very good!” Professor Snape appeared to be somewhat mollified. “As I was
saying - at some point you shall be receiving tutoring in Advanced Potions from
me, but for the moment, there is a particular spell - a very.... dangerous
spell which you may find invaluable during the Third Task.
“It is not altogether unlike the Diffindo Charm - a spell which I know that you
are quite adept with. It can be however, much more damaging... its effects more
long lasting, and in some cases permanent. It is also more effective on some
magical beings who are otherwise invulnerable to the Diffindo Charm... Hence, I
am sure that you can see how it might be useful to you, Potter.”
Snape appeared to think that required a response, so Harry nodded and answered,
“Er... yes! Of course sir.”
“Excellent!” Snape seemed relieved to have got that out of the way. “The spell
is the Sectumsempra Curse. It is written in the margins of one of the pages...
labeled ‘for enemies’... Look it up - practice it.
“And I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you not to test it out on unsuspecting
persons... nor to tell you not to test any other unknown spells on unsuspecting
persons for that matter - there are a number of such in that book.”
Harry felt extremely insulted that Snape would even think that he was stupid
enough to try out a spell he’d never heard of before on someone, but he didn’t
say so... not in so many words anyway. Though Harry’s tone might have given him
away.
“Of course I wouldn’t sir...”
Snape seemed satisfied, as his expression softened. “Good! I think then that we
are finished for today, Potter!”
                                     ~o0o~
It was the eve of the Third Task, and Minister Umbridge went over her strategy
one last time as she sipped her third cup of tea. All seemed to be in order. At
last, at the conclusion of the Task, the return of Voldemort could be
announced. He would prove to be such an exceptional scapegoat for what she had
planned.
                                     ~o0o~
The day before the Third Task arrived with little fanfare as it was Friday and
most students were in class. The Champions however had been given the day off
to mentally prepare themselves and ostensibly get as much rest as possible. But
Harry had called them all to the Room of Requirement to go over the last
details.
“Of course it’s going to take place at dusk instead of in the morning,”
Hermione grumbled as she and Harry waited in the corridor for the others to
arrive. “Obviously to maximise the danger as much as possible.”
“Oh...” Harry sighed, raising his eyebrows. “You’re right... I hadn’t thought
about that.” He heard footsteps in the corridor and spied the others
approaching.
Cedric seemed a bit put out. “I was hoping to spend a bit of time with Cho,
Harry. I managed to convince McGonagall to let her have the day off.”
“Well, we shouldn’t be too long Cedric. I’ll do you first if you’d like,” Harry
responded. Though he was quite sure that Viktor was hoping to have as much time
as possible with Lavender too - and no doubt Fleur would want to spend the rest
of the day with Dora, who had arrived with the others.
“Er... what do you mean, ‘do me first’...?”
“You’ll see,” said Harry, grinning. “Anyway, I think you’ll like this Cedric -
it was Hermione’s idea. She’s absolutely brilliant!” Hermione blushed, trying
not to look too pleased.
Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement and the others gasped. They
peered around in amazement as they entered into the sunlight and stepped onto
the sand. Waves crashed near the shoreline, the blue-green waters of the
Mediterranean shimmering, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight in the bright blue
sky.
“Ze Cote d’Azure,” Fleur murmured, her eyes wide. “It feels like ‘ome...”
“Yes!” Hermione beamed, eyes gleaming, her hair as usual catching the golden
rays of the sun. “It’s a bit of the French Riviera I visited with my parents
one summer.”
“What... how...?” Cedric was absolutely stunned.
“It’s a bit like the Enchanted Ceiling in the Great Hall,” Harry replied. “The
edges are really an illusion...
“...Though if we went all the way to the water, the room would make that bit
real when we got to it,” said Hermione excitedly. “We’ve already tested it.”
“Anyway, we thought it would be a nice place to relax while I painted some
runes and symbols on us all,” Harry added.
“Oh? For Vot vill we need ze Runes?” asked Viktor.
“Well, they should help protect us from some of the creatures we think might be
in the maze,” Hermione replied. “Harry and I have been working on them for
weeks. We wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Er... us?” Cedric looked puzzled by Hermione’s choice of words.
“Oh, that’s the other thing... Hermione will be joining us in the maze,” said
Harry. “She’s going to use my invisibility cloak to slip by everyone.”
“Are you joking?” Cedric’s jaw dropped. Fleur, Viktor, and Dora seemed only
mildly surprised, knowing the Potters as well as they did.
“I’d come in too if I could,” said Dora. “I asked Dumbledore if I ought to join
you lot. But ‘e seems to think that the wards might take me for a Professor.
Hermione should be alright though.”
After the surprise wore off, Cedric wondered what they were supposed to do
next. But Fleur seemed to understand what was required right away. Cedric
gulped, turning beet-red when Fleur removed her blouse. Dora and Hermione
grinned at his goofy expression. Soon everyone except Dora was topless and
lying on beach towels, ready for Harry to tattoo them.
True to his word, Harry did Cedric first, for which Cedric was very grateful.
Hurriedly, Cedric put his shirt and blazer back on and bolted from the Room of
Requirement, trying his hardest not to look at Fleur, who was tittering. Harry
dipped one of his brushes into the Rune Ink which he had brought and next began
to tattoo Hermione.
“Ooooh... that tickles,” Hermione giggled, when Harry started to ink her
abdomen with the brush.
“Try not to move Hermione,” said Harry, grinning.
When he had finished with Hermione, Harry started on Fleur. He was quite glad
that her charms had little effect on him, as he wasn’t sure that he could keep
his hand from shaking, judging from the reactions of Cedric and most other
guys.
“I don’t recognise some of these runes Harry,” Dora remarked as she watched him
work when he moved on to do Fleur.
“That’s because most of them aren’t Norse Runes,” Harry replied, “They weren’t
in standard texts. Hermione and I found some symbols in books of ancient Greek
Magic, and others in books of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs...”
“...We’re not entirely certain that they’ll work because obviously we haven’t
had an opportunity to test them of course, but they ought to,” Hermione
continued. “One set of symbols is supposed to protect us from the Gorgon’s
Gaze, and another set should protect us from Manticore venom...”
“...Hermione and I are bringing some bezoars in a little pouch too in case an
Acromantula or Skrewt gets one of us,” said Harry, “but they may not work for
Manticore venom, which can kill you nearly instantaneously if you get hit with
its stinger...”
“... And these are the symbols the Egyptian Ministry uses to keep the Mummies
locked in their tombs,” Hermione added. “The Norse Runes are just the standards
for Fire and Cold though... There weren’t any that would scare away Skrewts or
Acromantulas...”
Dora was very impressed... and very aroused by the sight of her new girlfriend
only half-clothed. Harry and Viktor both chortled when Fleur dressed and Dora
practically dragged her out of the Room of Requirement. Hermione rolled her
eyes at the pair of silly boys.
Once behind the closed doors of Dora’s quarters, clothes were quickly shed and
scattered on the floor. Fleur and Dora never even made it to the bedroom.
Leaning against a wall, Fleur parted her thighs for Dora’s fingers, moaning as
they reached their heated target and entered her.
Dora nuzzled Fleur’s neck, tracing a path with her humid lips to Fleur’s
breasts where they wetly encircled the hardened peaks. Fleur clutched Dora’s
spiky violet hair, writhing ecstatically and gasping as she succumbed to Dora’s
ministrations.
Finally making it to the settee, Fleur returned the favour, her head between
Dora’s thighs. Dora wriggled and arched, letting out squeaks of delight as
Fleur’s tongue reached into her depths and twirled her fleshy pearl, devouring
her...
                                     ~o0o~
Dora suddenly awoke when Fleur stirred beside her.
“Bloody Hell! Is that the time?” Dora’s eyes widened with shock when her eyes
lit upon the clock on the mantelpiece. She leapt out of her bed and began
flinging her clothes on. “I’m supposed to be escortin’ Harry and Hermione to
breakfast...
“They’re supposed to be meeting the officials and foreign dignitaries... You
are too come to think about it.”
“Mmm... vairy good, Dora! I will be right be’ind you chérie...”
                                     ~o0o~
Molly Weasley turned to look when Minerva McGonagall glanced at the entrance of
the Great Hall. She beamed when she spotted Harry and Hermione arriving with
Tonks and the French girl. Molly tugged on Arthur’s sleeve.
“Just a moment Minerva. Arthur... I think I’ll go say hello then - to let Harry
know that we’re here to support him. Do you want to join me?”
“Oh... er...” Arthur spotted one of his sons directly in the path between the
entrance of the Great Hall and the Staff table. His jaw tightened. “Perhaps
later dear - but you go right ahead.”
Molly began to make her way through the throng of students and visitors to
greet Harry and Hermione. As she passed by her son amongst the other officials,
she caught his eye. Her son quickly looked away and turned his back on her.
Molly huffed and continued on her way.
She narrowed her eyes when she saw Amos Diggory glaring at the Potters. Molly
hoped he wasn’t going to cause a scene. Arthur had told her about his attitude
towards Harry since the World Cup, and her friendly feelings towards Amos had
cooled dramatically. Her hopes for a civil encounter were dashed when Amos
began spouting off.
“There he is - the little Dark-Lord-in-Training himself,” Amos Diggory sneered
loudly when he spied Harry strolling into the Great Hall, “Watch your back in
there Cedric. He might use that Dark Curse on you...”
Harry’s face darkened. Fleur and Hermione flushed angrily, and Dora was livid.
She looked like she was about to lay into Amos herself. Daphne, Parvati, Ginny,
and Luna, who were about to seat themselves at the Mingling Table with Lavender
and Viktor, all glowered at Mr Diggory. People turned to stare, and some even
turned up their noses at the Potters, nodding in agreement.
“SHUT-IT Father!” Cedric snapped and his voice rose, “You don’t bloody know
what you’re talking about. All you do is parrot the rubbish in the Daily
Prophet and I’m done with it... In fact, I’m done with YOU!
“How many times do I have to tell you that if it weren’t for Harry, that I
would have never known about the Dragon? I was almost burned to a crisp as it
was! And if it weren’t for Harry my girlfriend would probably still be at the
bottom of the Black Lake! Harry’s a good person and he’s my friend.”
Cedric turned his back on his gobsmacked father and stalked away. Molly thought
Cedric’s mother looked rather proud of her son. Despite her best efforts,
Molly’s hopes of saying hello to Harry and Hermione before breakfast were
dashed when the crowd grew too thick to push her way through.
“Don’t pay any attention to my father, Harry,” Cedric said emphatically as he
put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “He’s just an idiot who believes whatever he
reads in that Ministry-loving Rag.”
“Er... Alright then.” Harry swallowed uncomfortably, knowing how hard it must
have been for Cedric to stand up to his father. “Thanks for sticking up for me
Cedric.”
Dora hoped that the awkwardness was over and that she could get back to doing
her job and lead her charges over to the additional table laid out for the
officials in the center of the Great Hall.
Hermione began to bristle again; Harry looked to see what was making her so
cross. He stiffened when he saw who else was at the table. Dora peered to see
what had caught the Potters’ attention. She sighed when she spotted Senior
Undersecretary Percy Weasley at the table glad-handing the foreign dignitaries.
“Oh bugger it!” Dora huffed, “Forget the bloody dignitaries! They can all sod
off - it’s mostly just the Minister’s foreign pals anyway! Go ‘ave breakfast -
I’ll deal with ‘em...”
Harry glanced at Fleur and Hermione, uncertain.
“Er... you sure Dora?” asked Harry. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Well I’m really only here for the Order anyway,” muttered Auror-on-leave
Tonks, “...no matter what the other Aurors think. Go on you lot. I mean it...
I’ve got this! I’ll see you at the table in a minute, alright!?”
“Thanks Dora,” said Hermione, letting out a sigh of relief. The last thing she
and Harry needed was a run-in with Percy.
The Potters took their seats among their friends. Everyone was at the table
today, including the Twins, Dean, Neville - even Ron and Seamus. Ron was
scowling at the table full of officials.
“Bloody Percy!” Ron fumed. “He’s been a real git lately - had a huge row with
Mum and Dad when he became Senior Undersecretary. Percy began complaining to
Dad about you and Dumbledore, Harry... He’s moved out on his own now - good
riddance!”
“Hear, hear!” chimed in George.
“I always knew he’d come to no good,” Fred agreed. Ginny bit her lip, looking
torn. As cross as she was with Percy, she was more than a bit sad about the
whole affair.
Everyone did their best to put Percy out of their minds when breakfast arrived
on their plates. Hermione was eating a piece of bacon when she noticed a beetle
sitting on the corner of the table.
For some reason it looked very familiar. A memory of Viktor pointing out a
water-beetle in her hair after the Second Task popped into her head - another
memory arose, this time of Harry flicking a beetle off his chest after he’d had
a vision of Voldemort summoning his Death Eaters.
Suddenly it all fit. Hermione’s eyes narrowed when she finally reached her
conclusion. Then, grabbing her cup of tea, Hermione drained it in one gulp and
smiled brightly at Harry.
“Just a moment Harry, I’ll be right back...” Hermione stood up with her empty
cup in hand, stalked to the end of the table, and slammed the cup upside down
over the beetle, trapping it inside.
“Do you mind if I borrow your saucer Luna?” Hermione asked sweetly.
“Of course not Hermione,” Luna peered at Hermione with great interest as she
passed her the saucer.
Carefully, Hermione slid the cup onto the saucer, keeping the beetle trapped.
Then she serenely returned to her seat and sat back down next to Harry. He eyed
Hermione questioningly. She gestured towards the teacup with the saucer on top
and grinned.
“Say hello to Rita Skeeter, Harry!”
                                     ~o0o~
Rita Skeeter couldn’t fathom how Hermione Potter had discovered her secret. But
that wasn’t her biggest problem. Her biggest problem was that she now faced
Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey in a dungeon deep in
the bowels of Hogwarts.
Judging from violent glares she was receiving from the two witches, Rita
decided that Dumbledore was her best bet.
“You can’t keep me trapped here forever you know,” Rita purred, licking her
lips and fluttering her eyelashes at the Headmaster, “I promise I’ll behave
if...”
“You are very fortunate Ms Skeeter...” the headmaster interrupted, his voice
calm and his gaze frosty, “It was quite crowded in the Great Hall this morning.
Someone might have accidentally stepped on you.”
Rita shuddered from a sudden chill when she realised that Dumbledore wasn’t
joking. But surely he wouldn’t...
“You are also quite fortunate that I am unwilling to allow Minerva and Poppy to
determine your fate,” Dumbledore continued, “They do not look kindly upon the
damage you have done to Mr Potter and his wife’s reputations.
“Nor do I... but I am more forgiving than they... You will find that we can
keep you here quite comfortably for the time-being, until such a time as the
Wizengamot sees fit to unseat the current Minister and imprison her for her
crimes - unless she perishes first.
“Until then, the House Elves of Hogwarts will look after you. They have been
ordered to do you no harm - which is good, because some of them are quite
friendly with the Potters who treat them very well.
“You would do well to remember that this cell is enchanted to prevent animagus
transformations. Though should the enchantment waver, you should also know that
the House Elves are very fastidious when it comes to pest control - and I may
have forgotten to mention your animagus form to them...”
                                     ~o0o~
Pink wisps of cloud faded into darkness as the setting sun fell behind the
mountains. The tops of the tall hedges which made up the maze could only just
be seen above the shroud of mist. As the host of students, staff, and visitors
made their way to the stands, once again Harry wondered what they expected to
see.
Fleur gave Dora a kiss before following Harry to the gate. Dora sighed
resignedly and found a seat at the end of the row where the rest of the
Potters’ friends were seated. In all of the hubbub, none of the other students
thought to wonder where Hermione was. Ginny and Luna, Lavender, Parvati, and
Daphne knew, but they had all been sworn to secrecy.
Hermione stood still and quiet under the invisibility cloak next to Harry and
Fleur by the gate to the maze, though it wasn’t really necessary as the noise
of the crowd in the stands and the ominous purple shadows of dusk provided
distraction and cover. Oddly, Mad Eye appeared able to see her, but he winked
and said nothing. This time Hermione was certain that his eye could see through
invisibility cloaks.
Percy Weasley smirked nastily at Harry from his seat in the judges’ station.
Bagman grinned, sure that this time he would hit the jackpot - but if not, he
knew the Ministry’s coffers would cover his losses. Bagman stood up and counted
down. The crowd roared when he fired red sparks from the starting wand.
Trepidation set in as Harry darted into the maze with his invisible Hermione,
followed closely behind by Fleur. Cautiously the three of them crept down the
aisle until they were enveloped by the dark shadows of the hedges, well over
six metres tall, and they waited for Cedric and Viktor to join them...
***** Trials and Tribulations: Part 1 *****
Harry was stunned by how many of their friends were at Narcissa Black’s house
when he and Hermione arrived by floo with Dora and Fleur. Besides the Twins,
Ron, and Ginny, Luna, Daphne, Neville, and Viktor were also congregating in one
of the parlours. The only ones missing were Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, and
Dean.
“Hi Harry,” yelled Ron, grinning. “What took you so long?”
“What are you all doing here?” asked Harry, looking very puzzled.
“Our parents are all part of the Order, silly,” giggled Luna. “Except for
Viktor...”
“My headmaster - he bring me here tonight,” Viktor interjected with a lopsided
smile. “He say I should join - I am old enough. But I think because he does not
vant to be by himself - all others from Durmstrang go home already... Though I
vould stay here anyvay, for Lavender.”
“Oh... of course,” said Hermione. “Fleur is old enough too.”
“Oui,” said Fleur with a nod, smiling at Dora. “Dora invited me, and Papa, he
already speaks wiz Dumbledore. He stays in France wiz Maman, but ‘e and Madame
Maxime organise assistance for ze Order.”
“Bill and Charlie joined up,” said Ron, looking very glum.
“Yeah... I know about that...” Harry gave Ron a funny look. “They joined up
when they met Sirius and Moody at the World Cup - after the attack... Didn’t
you know?”
“Er... not really,” Ron muttered. “I didn’t find out until Bill came to watch
the Final Task with Mum and Dad.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “That’s because you weren’t paying attention Ron. Bill
and Charlie were with Dad talking to Sirius and Moody about it outside the
tent.
“We’re old enough and we tried to join too...” Fred growled.
“But Mum threw a wobbly - said we’re not to as we’re still in school...” said
George with a sour expression, not noticing his mother entering the parlour.
“And I should think not!” snapped Mrs Weasley. “It’s bad enough that I have to
worry about Bill and Charlie...”
“I don’t see why we can’t at least listen in on the Order meeting!” Fred gave
his mother a mutinous glare. “It’s rubbish!”
Most of the others averted their eyes, sensing an argument building up. Neville
looked extremely nervous. Luna was the only one who didn’t look away
uncomfortably, appearing fascinated if anything. Hermione and Harry got the
distinct impression that this wasn’t the first row of the evening between Mrs
Weasley and her children on the topic.
“And I don’t see why Ron and I have to be left out just because we’re too young
to join,” said Ginny heatedly. “Luna’s dad is letting her in on the meeting...”
“Yes! Well that’s up to Mr Lovegood isn’t it,” retorted Mrs Weasley, her voice
rising.
“If we’re too young, then how come Harry and Hermione get to be in on the
meeting?” moaned Ron.
The fight was momentarily paused as everyone stared at Ron incredulously,
including Mrs Weasley. Ginny opened her mouth, looking like she was just about
to say something very rude to Ron. But Mrs Weasley, now in full dudgeon, got
back into the thick of it.
“Because for one thing they’re both legally of age, even if they are bit young
and I don’t like it,” she shouted. “I don’t get a say about them either. And
for another, if anyone’s got a right to be in on things, it’s Harry. It’s all
got to do with him, doesn’t it...”
Apparently drawn by the commotion, Mr Weasley appeared in the doorway with
Moody, Sirius, and Lupin.
“Molly, please...” said Mr Weasley. “They might as well sit in. Harry’s
probably just going to tell them anyway...”
“We might as well just induct the lot of them then!” Mrs Weasley snapped. “Do
you really want our children to be fighting Dark Wizards...?”
“And why shouldn’t they be prepared to fight Dark Wizards?” Sirius interjected
sharply. “Do you think Death Eaters are going to give them a choice in the
matter if they come calling?”
“Sirius is right Molly,” Moody growled. “Your kids might have to face Dark
Wizards at some point whether you like it or not. We all are. They need to know
what they’re facin’... They need to be prepared. Is that what you want? For
them to face danger without knowin’ what it’s all about?”
“Of course not Alastor,” Mrs Weasley gasped. “But...”
“But nothin’...” Moody snapped. “That’s just how it is. Get used to it.”
Mrs Weasley quieted, and looked to Remus for support. But when he just raised
his eyebrows at her, she knew that she had lost. When she turned back to glance
at her children, Hermione and Harry could see the tears running down Mrs
Weasley’s cheeks, all anger gone, trying hard not to lose it altogether.
Hermione bit her lip, watching Mrs Weasley sadly. Harry swallowed, suddenly
realising how much pain Mrs Weasley was in at the thought of losing her
children. Mrs Weasley dabbed at her tears with a hanky and tried her best to
muster a smile at the Potters.
“Sorry about all the fuss, Harry, Hermione,” said Mrs Weasley as she swept them
both into a bear-hug. “It’s lovely to see you both again.”
“It’s good to see you too, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione squeaked, trying to catch a
breath, unused to being on the receiving end of a hug as bone-crushing as one
of her own.
“Hi Mrs Weasley,” said Harry, feeling relieved that the row was over and hoping
that Mrs Weasley would cheer up a bit. Having finally arrived, Dumbledore
entered the parlour, smiling warmly at everyone, eyes twinkling.
“Good! You’re here. Now we can get this thing started,” said Moody gruffly.
“Indeed, Alastor...” Dumbledore beckoned everyone in the parlour, as if he had
expected all of the teenagers to be joining the meeting. “Well, if we’re all
ready then, why don’t we join our gracious host at her table... Harry, Mrs
Potter, if you would join me.”
The room quieted when they arrived, all eyes upon Harry and Hermione. Harry
glanced around nervously at all of the people, many of whom he didn’t know.
Hermione was more than a bit apprehensive too.
“Its alright guys,” Dora whispered. “I’ll be right beside you.”
There was a long highly polished ebony table in the middle of the room with
numerous chairs all around it. Dumbledore led the Potters and Dora to the end
of the table and gestured for them to sit beside him.
Molly Weasley looked a bit anxious as well. She was still having some
difficulty getting used to being in the house of someone who had been an enemy
for so long. Narcissa was a courteous host though, and Molly was on her best
behaviour.
“If you would please be so kind Narcissa?” Dumbledore began, as he glanced down
the lengthy table at many dubious faces. “Some here do not yet know the
circumstances by which you have come to host us.”
Narcissa’s stomach tightened and she swallowed nervously. She looked to her
cousin Sirius, and he gave her hand a comforting squeeze.
“I... My husband and I were betrothed at an early age,” Narcissa began. “There
was a contract... For those too young to know, Marriage Contracts were once
common among the Noble Houses. And though they are no-longer validated by the
Ministry today, Contracts issued before times changed are still upheld. My
father had pledged me to the Malfoys from birth, for a vast sum of money.”
Hermione bristled, eyes wide with shock. She couldn’t believe that such a
barbaric practice could have taken place in modern Britain. Harry’s stomach
churned in revulsion at the idea of an arranged marriage, bought and paid for.
He felt like throwing up. It struck him as tantamount to slavery.
Fleur frowned and bit her lip. Daphne cast her eyes down, feeling humiliated,
but glad that her own father had steadfastly refused Lucius Malfoy’s many
offers to buy her for Draco. Luna and Ginny scowled, both nauseated by the very
idea.
“I did grow to love my husband,” Narcissa continued, “and at one time I shared
his beliefs. We all did in those days... we were raised to believe in the
superiority of our blood. But during the last war, I came to see the cruelty
and suffering that such beliefs wrought. After my son was born, I had hoped to
put it all behind us.
“At first, I begged my husband to withdraw from the company he kept. But he did
not, and for some years I kept my tongue to myself. But gradually, we began to
draw apart - especially after my son reached the right age for Hogwarts. I did
not wish for Draco to grow up with the same beliefs that I and my husband had.
“But... but as you know, my husband maintained his arrogant views, and passed
them on to our son. When my son was duly sanctioned at Hogwarts for his assault
against the Greengrasses first daughter, I came to realise that my hopes had
been dashed... that Draco had passed the point of no return... and that my
husband saw nothing amiss with our son’s actions.
“I finally sought a way out... and my solicitors found it. There was a clause
buried deep within the contract... A clause which gave me the right to divorce
after I had obtained a certain age...”
Her eyes glistening, Narcissa paused, and peered apologetically at Daphne and
Mr and Mrs Greengrass.
“I... I am shamed by my own blood - my son. For his grievous offences I am
truly sorry. Offering my home as a sanctuary for those who have been wronged by
my husband and my son will never be payment enough. But it is the least I can
do...”
Narcissa sat down abruptly and Sirius put his arm around her comfortingly.
Satisfied that Narcissa had assuaged the concerns of most, Dumbledore glanced
around the table. He faced the largest gathering of Order members since the
last war - many, many more than his Inner Circle. There were a large number of
old members, and more than a few new faces, including the Greengrasses and
Xenophilius Lovegood.
Dumbledore was very pleased to see Igor Karkaroff, who had made an Unbreakable
Vow to demonstrate his commitment - truly remarkable. Dumbledore nodded his
head gratefully at Severus Snape for his successful attempt at recruiting Igor.
Finally Dumbledore brought the meeting to order.
“I should like to begin by giving Madam Amelia Bones the floor. She has some
grave news to impart which will affect Mr Potter and his wife greatly. Amelia,
if you would be so kind...”
Madam Bones adjusted her monocle, cleared her throat, and launched into her
presentation, forgoing any pleasantries.
“As you all know by now, I have been summarily dismissed from my post as Head
of the DMLE. The Minister managed to persuade the Wizengamot that I was at
fault for the stationing of the Dementors at the conclusion of the Triwizard
tournament... and that it was due to my negligence that Voldemort took
Azkaban...”
Many members of the Order winced and cringed at the mention of Voldemort by
name. But Madam Bones studiously ignored them and continued.
“Fortunately, there are still a number of Aurors who are loyal to me, and me
alone. One of them has brought to my attention an interdepartmental memo which
indicates that Warlock Potter is to be brought to trial for the destruction of
Ministry Property... namely, 416 Dementors.”
A collective gasp of shock rose among those assembled. Harry slumped in his
seat and groaned. He should have known that the Minister might try something
like this. Hermione’s nostrils flared with anger.
“That’s outrageous!” Hermione fumed.
“Bloody ridiculous is what it is,” snapped Sirius, “They’ll never be able to
prove that a Patronus killed the Dementors. Everyone knows that’s impossible. I
saw what happened to those wraiths, and I know that was no Patronus that did
it...”
Harry felt a bit awkward. He wanted to tell Sirius what he and Hermione had
learned through their conversation with Dumbledore the previous night. But he
couldn’t say anything in the middle of an Order meeting as it was supposed to
be a secret from all but a few key members of Dumbledore’s Inner Circle.
“It must have been some sort of coincidence.” Sirius continued to rage,
“Something very strange had to have been happening at the same time. Maybe the
Minister herself deployed some sort of secret weapon developed by Unspeakables
to set Harry up. And how can anyone be held criminally liable for killing
creatures which are legally determined ‘non-beings’ anyway...?”
Amelia Bones arched one eyebrow and sighed.
“The Minister is determined to at least give it a go, and given her sway, all
she needs is five or six votes on the current Wizengamot to go her way. Some of
the ‘wobblies’ may see that as a mere technicality Sirius...”
Sirius snorted, his face twisted in outrage, but he nodded, understanding all
too well the trouble Harry faced.
“Right then. Well there’s only one thing for it Harry,” Sirius began, as he
handed Harry a card, “You’ll need a lawyer, as Dumbledore won’t have any pull
with the Wizengamot at the moment. Ragnok is the best. He’s a Solicitor
Advocate for Gringotts and he’s done some occasional work for other members of
the Order in a bind...”
Mundungus Fletcher had a coughing fit further down the table and Amelia’s eyes
narrowed in distaste, as did Mrs Weasley’s.
“I thought solicitors only provided information and handled contracts and that
sort of thing,” Harry whispered to Hermione, frowning in puzzlement. “Don’t I
need a Barrister?”
“Solicitor Advocates are a special sort of solicitor Harry,” Hermione murmured
back. “They’re allowed to represent their clients and make arguments before the
Court. It’s a relatively new position which came into effect a few years ago.”
“Blimey Harry,” Hagrid gasped, clapping Harry on the back, clearly intending it
to be a comforting gesture. “Whoever heard o’ such a thing...? Tryin’ yeh fer
doin’ somethin’ impossible fer any wizard to do. Don’ worry though. I’m sure
yeh’ll get off... Obviously yeh didn’ do nothin’ yerself... ”
“Thanks Hagrid, I appreciate it...” Harry grimaced, wincing at Hagrid’s
“comforting” pat.
“Oi! Watch it Hagrid, you don’t know your own strength sometimes...” Dora
glared at Hagrid, peeling his dustbin-lid sized hand from Harry’s shoulders.
“Oh... er... right Tonks!” Hagrid’s face fell. “Sorry Harry!”
Harry relaxed considerably when Dora rubbed his shoulders where Hagrid had
walloped him.
“Better...?” she asked.
“Loads, thanks Dora,” Harry replied. He grinned at Hagrid. “It’s alright
Hagrid. I’ll be fine... just a bit stiff from the Third Task still,” he fibbed,
not wanting Hagrid to feel badly.
Hagrid’s features brightened. Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand, and smiled
gratefully at Dora.
“I’ll be part of Harry’s escort,” Dora said firmly to Amelia Bones and
Dumbledore. “I won’t put in my resignation until after the trial and I get
Harry back outta the Ministry safely. But I’ll need someone else I can trust
who ‘asn’t resigned ‘in protest’ yet,” Dora narrowed her eyes angrily at
Shacklebolt and Dawlish.
“Tonks, The Minister already suspects that we are too close to Amelia, and
therefore too close to Dumbledore,” Shacklebolt sighed, “We would be useless to
the Order as Ministry employees...”
“How about Auror Mulligan?” Madam Bones offered. “He’s still loyal to me, and
he’s Auror Brixton’s partner... well, was Brixton’s partner before she took a
leave to look after the Potters’ immediate families. But I am absolutely
certain that Reynard still has standing in the Auror Corps.”
“Right then. He’ll do,” Dora agreed.
Madam Bones and Dumbledore exchanged glances; the Headmaster nodded his
approval.
Harry let out a sigh of relief when the meeting moved on to the next point of
business, arranging security for Mr Lovegood and the Quibbler, and for the
School’s Board of Governors. Hermione and Dora quietly departed with Harry from
the head of the table and went to sit with the rest of the teens. Hermione
could tell from Harry’s pensive expression that something was still bothering
him though.
“What’s up Harry?” Hermione quietly asked.
“Er... I was wondering why Madam Bones called me Warlock Potter. What’s that
all about?”
Hermione’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. She’d never really thought about it.
But it only made sense she supposed.
“Harry,” she began, sounding a bit breathless, “It’s because you’re the last
Potter... You’re the Head of your House - a Warlock. All of the Pureblood
families are treated as Houses with special privileges. The Heads of Houses
have seats on the Wizengamot, which are filled either by themselves or their
proxies. They’re the ones who vote on legislation and preside over State
trials. That’s why Dumbledore was known as the Chief Warlock...”
“She’s right Harry,” Neville chimed in, having overheard. “One day I’ll be the
Warlock of the Longbottom House... or at least I will be when Gran dies. She’s
Head of House at the moment.”
“But that doesn’t make an sense,” said Harry. “I’m not a Pureblood...”
“That doesn’t make a difference Harry,” Hermione responded. “Most Wizards today
aren’t Pureblood, including many members of the Houses. But the Houses were
established centuries ago, and they still have a lot of status and wield a lot
of power in Wizarding society regardless.”
“Oh!” Harry looked startled at the idea of being the Head of a House.
He wasn’t entirely certain the he wanted the “privilege” bestowed upon his
station. He never had placed much credence in that sort of thing. He hated it
when people lorded their status and wealth over everyone else, and as far as he
was concerned everyone should have equal say in how things were run. And if it
meant that he was like the Malfoys, he wanted no part of it.
Hermione could see what Harry was thinking written all over his face, and she
rather felt the same way herself. But she couldn’t help thinking that Harry
could one day use that status for Good... to help make changes in Wizarding
society... make it more Democratic.
“How come Dad isn’t a Warlock then?” asked Ron. “I don’t understand. We don’t
have any status or special privileges...”
“Actually he is a Warlock,” said George. “He even gets to write laws and stuff.
He just never put any stock in that sort of thing...”
“...because Dad thinks it’s all rubbish,” Fred added. “He’s always stood up for
the rights of muggleborn, and thinks that everyone should have equal
representation in the Ministry and on the Wizengamot...”
“...and that’s why Dad never made it very high up the ladder at the Ministry,”
George continued.
“...Which is why Percy’s being such a bloody git now,” Fred concluded.
“Oh!” said Ron as light dawned on him. “I get it... I thought it was only
arseholes like the Malfoys who thought we were Blood Traitors.”
Then Ron scowled at his brothers. “But how come nobody ever told me? I’m always
the last to know everything...”
“Oh get over yourself Ron!” Ginny snapped. “I didn’t know either...”
Fred shrugged dismissively, but George piped up and tried to explain.
“It’s probably because Mum and Dad never believed in that rubbish. I expect
they didn’t want us to get swelled heads. The only reason Fred and I know, is
because we’re always nicking the post to see if there’s anything interesting.
Sometimes stuff comes addressed to Warlock Weasley.”
“I wonder why nobody told me that I was a Warlock though...” Harry bit his lip,
looking puzzled.
“Because I was planning on shepherding you through the process myself Harry...”
Startled, everyone turned around to see Sirius, who had apparently come up
behind them partway through the conversation and overheard.
“One has to officially declare oneself Warlock and the Right to take a Seat on
the floor of the Wizengamot during a full session,” Sirius continued. “After
everything went south since the World Cup, there simply hasn’t been the
opportunity.
“And actually, your upcoming trial presents the best opportunity available
since then. When you win - and with Ragnok in your corner, I don’t doubt that
you shall - you should stand up and Declare yourself.”
“Are you going to be there?” asked Harry, feeling a bit anxious at the idea.
“Well, as a known associate of a ‘fugitive’ Werewolf, I thought it best to
remain scarce,” Sirius sighed. “I’ll have a proxy filling in for me - which
you’ll have to do yourself once you get out of the Ministry safely. But Warlock
Greengrass will be there... He’s already offered to look out for you.
“That was what I was coming over tell you actually... Well, that and to tell
you that I won’t be joining you in London as Remus and I will be doing some
work for the Order - Mad Eye’s going to join you though, as he’s got business
in London anyway.”
“And I’ll be coming with you of course,” said Dora, grinning. “And Fleur’ll
come along too if you don’t mind having her at your house for a few days. She
can stay in my room with me.”
“Of course,” said Harry quickly, feeling much better already.
“We don’t mind at all,” Hermione beamed.
Finally Dumbledore brought the meeting to a close, but unfortunately for Ron
and Neville - who were both getting bored - Dumbledore remained with several of
the professors, Sirius, and Lupin to discuss a few last details with Mr and Mrs
Weasley, Mr Lovegood, Madam Longbottom, and the Greengrasses, for their ears
alone.
Harry and Hermione were a bit puzzled when Dumbledore revealed that the
professors and the Potters would be remaining at Hogwarts for the summer. They
were even more surprised when Madam Longbottom asked the headmaster to also
allow Neville to return to Hogwarts for the summer out of concern for his
safety.
Dumbledore sighed but relented when Madam Longbottom refused to take no for an
answer. Mrs Weasley stewed for several minutes. Finally, making what was
clearly a difficult decision, she begged Dumbledore to keep her only daughter
and youngest son safe at Hogwarts for the summer too. Of course, Luna decided
that if Ginny was staying, then she wanted to as well.
For their part, Harry and Hermione were quite pleased that they would be having
some company over the summer.
                                     ~o0o~
It was very late when Harry, Hermione, and Dora all tumbled out of the
fireplace at Number Twelve. Fleur tittered when she gracefully stepped out of
the green flames to see them all still coughing and wheezing as they dusted the
soot off. Finally catching her breath, Hermione beamed and flung her arms
around her mother, who was the only one who had stayed up to await their
arrival.
“It’s lovely to see you again dear,” said Mrs Granger before giving Harry a hug
and greeting Dora.
“Mum, this is Fleur,” said Hermione. “She’s...”
“One of the Champions in the tournament. I remember from your letters darling.
I’m delighted to meet you Fleur. Have you come to stay with us for a bit then?”
“Oui... I could not let my girlfriend come to London alone.” Fleur smiled
brightly at Mrs Granger. “I am vairy pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Dora grinned, blushing when Fleur introduced herself as her girlfriend. When
Harry yawned, Hermione’s mother wished everyone a good night, and soon they
were all off to bed.
Hermione snuggled in Harry’s arms, pleased to be at home again, even if only
for a week. Harry sighed happily, stroking Hermione’s golden curls, breathing
in her minty fragrance as the tension of the evening faded. For a moment, he
could almost forget the travails which lay ahead of him.
                                     ~o0o~
It was quite early in the morning and Minister Umbridge had just sat down to
her first cup of tea. As she began to peruse the reports on her desk, there was
a knock on the door before it opened slightly and a familiar face peeked in.
When she saw the red hair and the enthusiastic features, Minister Umbridge
broke into a winning smile.
“Ah, Mr Weasley, do come in... Thank you for being so prompt,” said the
Minister in her most dulcet tones.
“Of course, Minister,” Senior Undersecretary Weasley eagerly responded. “What
can I do for you today?”
“Mr Potter should be returning to Privet Drive by the end of tomorrow,” replied
the Minister, “and I thought it wise to begin immediate preparations for his
trial, so that we might send the Summons as soon as possible. I would like to
have the Summons ready for Thursday morning.”
“I’ll get right on it Minister...”
                                     ~o0o~
Percy Weasley rubbed his hands together gleefully as he began preparing for the
trial of Harry Potter. He didn’t care that it was still early Tuesday morning
and that he had a large stack of Law Books in front of him. Percy only had till
Wednesday evening to formalise the charges for the summons, and less than a
week to prepare for the trial on the following Monday.
It had been Percy’s greatest ambition to be Minister for Magic for as long as
he could remember, and he was determined to prove to Minister Umbridge that he
was up to the challenge of being Senior Undersecretary.
It had never been more clear that Harry Potter was a menace to society -
stirring up trouble with the Merpeople, and telling that ridiculous tale about
Kappa assassins - making a complete mockery of the Third Task by cheating and
then utilising some sort of Secret Weapon to destroy the Dementors.
Percy should have seen it from the beginning, but he reminded himself that he
had still been under the influence of his parents’ misguided teachings until he
joined the Ministry
Now he realised that Harry Potter had been thumbing his nose at the rules and
authority from his very first day in Hogwarts. And yet that old coot Dumbledore
had rewarded Potter time and again for his disorderly behaviour. Without a
strict adherence to rules there could be no Order and Chaos would reign
supreme.
Percy hoped that eventually he and the Minister could get rid of Dumbledore as
well as Potter. It would be a real thumb in the eye to Dumbledore when Potter
finally got what he deserved.
And then there was Hermione Potter! What a disappointment she had turned out to
be. Percy had high hopes for Hermione Granger in her first year, and then she
had befriended that little hooligan, Harry Potter. Of course, as with Potter,
Percy had been too blinded to recognise what a bad influence Potter had been on
her.
And it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that she was a muggleborn at the time. But
again, Percy now knew that it was his father’s muggle-loving ways which was
holding the Weasley family back financially, and ruining the Weasley family
name.
Percy frowned, wondering if he could find a means to put Hermione Potter on
trial alongside her husband. Then he remembered that she had participated in
the Third Task. The Triwizard Commission had found evidence all over the maze
indicating her presence. Clearly she was guilty of aiding and abetting Harry
Potter’s scheme to win at any cost.
Percy cracked his knuckles and began flicking excitedly through the Law Books.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry and Hermione woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through
Number Twelve. Feeling very hungry, they showered quickly and dressed, then
jogged down the stairs to the kitchen. Hermione’s mother was the only one up as
everyone else appeared to be sleeping in.
Jean Granger glanced up to see her daughter and son-in-law grinning when they
burst into the kitchen.
“Well, come on then, breakfast is ready,” Jean smiled back, “You’d better get a
move-on before Dudley smells it and wakes up. That boy has lost a lot of weight
and is looking much more fit, but he can still put the food away like there’s
no tomorrow...”
“Thank you.” Harry beamed happily at Jean as he ate his breakfast, “I’m
famished, M... er...”
All of a sudden Harry felt very awkward. He wasn’t sure what to call Jean
Granger. Calling her “Mrs Granger” didn’t really seem appropriate anymore, as
Hermione had told him that she was in the process of getting divorced. But he
still felt a bit uncomfortable about calling her Jean... somehow it wasn’t
quite like calling Lupin by his first name.
Jean Granger caught on immediately to Harry’s quandary. Harry was perhaps the
kindest and most mature young man that Jean had ever known, and he made
Hermione so happy. She just wanted to hug him and make all of his anxiety all
go away.
“Why don’t you call me Mum dear!?” said Jean, hoping that she hadn’t stepped
over a line.
Hermione’s eyes widened and she stopped eating a piece of bacon in mid-bite.
Hermione sensed the wave of emotion surging inside of Harry, she glanced at him
and saw his eyes glistening.
Harry gulped. He knew then, that was exactly what he wanted to call Jean
Granger - her hugs felt like how he imagined hugging his own mother would feel.
He had often wished that he had his mum back, even knowing that it was
pointless wishing for such - but if he couldn’t have his own, he could at least
share Hermione’s.
“Er... Yeah! I’d really like that,” Harry croaked. “Thank you.... thanks for
everything - Mum.”
Hermione beamed at her mother, sighing happily as she squeezed Harry's hand.
                                     ~o0o~
Petunia smelled the bacon and realised she had overslept. Fortunately it was
too early for most teenagers to be awake and Dudley was still asleep. Petunia
quietly crept down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She was about to step
through the entrance to the kitchen when she caught the scene.
Petunia witnessed everything. Her chest tightened and her stomach lurched.
Petunia bit her quavering lip to stifle her tears and turned to go back up the
stairs as quickly as she could. Not wanting to wake Dudley, she tiptoed quietly
all the way up the staircase and locked herself in the bathroom on the fourth
floor.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Petunia began sobbing for Harry and Lily.
An image of Vernon forced itself into Petunia’s mind and she began vomiting in
the toilet.
                                     ~o0o~
Hermione whirled around in her seat when she sensed someone behind her. She had
turned around and only just caught a glimpse of Petunia before she disappeared.
Hermione really wanted to hug Harry and her mum, but it seemed like something
was very wrong with Petunia. Hermione quickly ran to see where she had gone.
She spied Petunia at the top the stairs on the uppermost landing just as she
entered the bathroom, and she heard the door click shut. Hoping that Mum and
Harry would understand, Hermione dashed up the stairs and knocked on Auntie
Joanne’s door. Yawning as she rubbed the slumber from her eyes, Joanne answered
the door.
“What’s wrong dear?” Joanne asked, seeing Hermione’s distress.
“It’s Harry’s aunt... Petunia. I think she’s ill. She just ran all the way up
to the top floor and locked herself in the bathroom.”
Following her niece, Joanne ran up the stairs to the bathroom on the fourth
floor. Hermione unlocked the door with an alohomora charm when they heard the
retching sounds within.
Joanne didn’t much care for Petunia, as they had very different views on
things, and Jean had told her of Petunia’s past with Hermione’s husband. But
tears sprang to her own eyes at the sight of the sobbing, heaving woman hunched
over the loo.
“Oh you poor dear...” Joanne said as soothingly as she could manage, reaching
out to Petunia and gently rubbing her back.
Abbie Brixton opened her door rubbing her bleary eyes, wondering what all the
hullabaloo was about. Her eyes widened when she heard the commotion above and
she hurried breathlessly up the stairs. Seeing Petunia’s state, Abbie waved her
wand with one hand and caught the medicine kit which flew from her room with
the other.
“It’s alright you two, I can manage Petunia,” Abbie said kindly. “I know you
haven’t seen each other in ages. Go on, off to breakfast both of you. I’m sure
that Petunia will be alright in a bit.”
By the time Hermione returned to the kitchen with her aunt, Dora and Fleur were
sitting at the table, drinking tea and coffee respectively with her mother and
Harry.
“Mornin’ Hermione,” said Dora with a grin.
“Bonjour ‘Ermione.” Fleur put her coffee down and smiled.
“What’s going on?” asked Harry. “Trip to the loo?”
“Er... your aunt Petunia’s not feeling very well,” Hermione replied, still
looking worried. “But Abbie Brixton is looking after her now.”
“Oh...” Harry frowned, wondering if Aunt Petunia was alright.
Everyone chatted amiably as they continued breakfast. After he’d finished,
Harry took a deep breath, just about to mention the upcoming trial, and how
Dora was going to escort him when Abbie entered the kitchen with Dudley in tow.
Dudley’s face lit up to see Harry again.
“I’ve put Petunia back to bed for now,” said Abbie. “She’ll be okay for the
moment... Just go easy on her alright!?” Abbie looked pointedly at Jean and
Joanne. “I think Petunia’s having a bout of PTSD - that ex of hers was a right
monster. And... and I think she’s only just finally starting to come to terms
with it...”
“Er... Of... of course we will,” said Jean, looking slightly ashamed of
herself.
“I’ll pop by St Mungo’s later when Moody or Amelia get in,” Abbie continued.
“One of the Mind-Healers there may be able to give me some advice. I wish I
could do more, but it’s a bit difficult at the moment with us all having to
stay under the Ministry’s radar.”
“I’ll make us a bit more breakfast then shall I?” said Hermione’s aunt, hoping
to relieve the tension. “Who wants some bacon then... Dudley?”
“Yes please.” Dudley nodded eagerly, his face brightening. “I can help...” he
offered.
“That’s alright dear. Why don’t you just sit down and have some orange juice -
I’ll only be a minute”
“Hi Harry,” said Dudley, sitting down at the table. “Good to see you again.”
“You too Dudley,” said Harry, thinking that Dudley looked a bit sad. “Er... so
you alright then?”
“Well... er... erm...” Dudley looked very embarrassed, glancing around the
table, not sure that he wanted to say anything in front of everybody. Face
reddening, he hung his head down and looked at the floor. “Er... I know what
it’s like to not have any friends now,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry Harry...”
Harry swallowed, feeling a bit awkward. “Er... that’s all water under the
bridge Dudley. There’s really no need to apologise again.”
“Th...thanks Harry...” Dudley offered a wan little smile.
“Anyway, I... er... I don’t think you’ve met Hermione...”
“Hi Dudley.” Hermione smiled a bit shyly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
After breakfast, the Potters ended up with Dudley in the parlour playing video
games on Dudley’s Playstation. Fleur and Dora joined them, both fascinated by
the interactive muggle technology.
“Your godfather and his friend enchanted it for me,” Dudley told Harry when he
asked.
“This is brilliant!” said Dora when she had a turn with the controller. “I’ve
never actually played video-games before, though my muggle cousins play them
all the time.”
Harry and Hermione were in the middle of a game when they heard voices they
recognised in the hallway behind them. Moody and Madam Bones had arrived.
Dudley was surprised to see a girl with red hair entering the parlour.
“Oh... er... I forgot to tell you Dudley. You won’t actually be all alone this
summer,” said Harry. “This is Susan Bones, Madam Bones’s niece. Susan, this is
my cousin Dudley.”
“Er... Hi!” Dudley flushed. He’d never really talked to a girl before and had
no idea what to say.
“Hello Dudley,” said Susan shyly before addressing Harry. “Thank you for
inviting me and Aunt Amelia to stay for the summer Harry... Dad and Mum were
frightened that You-Know-Who would get us now that he’s back.”
“You’re welcome Susan,” Harry responded, smiling. “Madam Bones and Dumbledore
told me and Hermione about your parents being in the Order. I... I’m sorry
about the rest of your family...”
Harry glanced at Dudley who was twiddling his thumbs and staring awkwardly at
his shoes. “You’ll be nice to Susan over the summer won’t you Dudley?”
Dudley looked up and nodded.
“Of course I will Harry!” Dudley replied. “...It’ll be nice to have someone
else around a bit the rest of the summer. I promise I’ll be nice to Susan.”
                                     ~o0o~
Feeling a bit agitated, Harry had taken the opportunity to escape after saying
hello to Moody and Madam Bones, retiring to the library with Hermione. Being
alone with her, Harry finally began to relax after the rather emotional
morning. Hermione was sitting on Harry’s lap in a cozy armchair in the library,
both reading a stack of superhero comics which Dora had given them to read.
“I think you two’ll love these,” Dora had said with a chuckle. “You’ll see what
I mean...”
Hermione giggled as Harry carefully turned the page. “He reminds me of you
Harry. He’s got the same round glasses and everything...”
Harry shook his head in amazement at how much he had in common with the
protagonist. Apparently, often feeling like everything was his fault when the
people he loved were put in harms way must be a more common trait than he had
thought. The boy with a radioactive spider bite had even been raised by his
aunt and uncle after his parents had been killed.
Harry laughed and tickled Hermione, causing her to squeal, when they read the
next page.
“Yeah... well she reminds me of you...” Harry grinned, pointing at the picture
of the superhero’s sexy girlfriend in the issue they were reading. “She’s the
perfect partner for Spiderman - smart, gorgeous, superpowered, both of them
fighting crime together...”
“Don’t be silly Harry! Her hair looks like Fleur’s...” Hermione stuck her
tongue out at Harry. “...And her bust is much bigger than mine by far.” But she
squirmed happily on his lap at the favourable comparison nonetheless.
“Maybe so, but the Black Cat makes a lot more sense as Spiderman’s girlfriend
than the one who looks like Ginny...” Harry responded, earning himself a rather
heated kiss from Hermione.
A grunt and a cough from the doorway startled the Potters, and they both
blushed furiously when they spied Mad Eye grinning at them.
“You’ll want to be careful with those comics Potter... Tonks won’t take it
kindly if you squash them,” Mad Eye chuckled.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, I’ll be escorting you to Gringotts
tomorrow mornin’... I’ve made an appointment with Ragnok for you - Right that’s
it then! Carry On where you left off...” Mad Eye smirked and clomped down the
stairs to the kitchen for an early lunch.
Harry waved his wand, shutting and locking the library door behind Moody.
Another swish cast a silencing charm and he placed the comic carefully on the
table.
“Harry!” Hermione squeaked anxiously when Harry’s lips brushed against the side
of her neck, his hand slipping under her skirt. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying On!” Harry said airily. “You don’t expect me to disobey a Mad Eye
order do you?”
“But everyone’s watching the television in the parlour,” Hermione moaned as
Harry’s fingers reached inside her moistening knickers, “Shouldn’t we go
upstairs to our room?”
“Orders are orders Hermione...” Harry grinned; his other hand pushed under her
blouse and slid across the smooth taut skin of her abdomen. “And it is our home
after all.”
Hermione blushed, unable to help feeling naughtily aroused knowing that
everyone was just a few rooms away, grinding her bottom against Harry’s pulsing
stiffness.
“Honestly Harry, sometimes you are so literal... OH!... ” Hermione gasped, her
face wrought with ardour as his fingers entered her heated channel, his thumb
rotating the pearl hidden in her fold. Harry’s other fingers tweaked her
hardened nipples, his lips trailing burning kisses along her collarbone.
“Mmmmhmmm...” Harry murmured playfully in response.
Hermione’s spine arched as she returned his kisses. Harry cupped and fondled a
breast, gently rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione
began to moan, tingling with pleasure; her warm sheath clasped Harry’s fingers
and she rippled with a tremor of ecstasy, drenching his hand with her dewiness.
Still lost in the throes of bliss, Hermione leaned forward onto the library
table, gasping from the orgasm, wriggling her bottom at Harry invitingly. Harry
pushed her skirt up around her waist and slid her soaked knickers to the floor.
In a daze, Hermione briefly twisted around to unzip Harry and release his
erection from its prison before returning to her position.
Panting, his heart racing, Harry leaned over Hermione’s backside, grasped her
hips and plunged the length of his hardness into her crescent valley in one go.
Harry rocked her, already fit to burst from the euphoria of bringing Hermione
off in his lap, the scent of her passion filling him with elation.
Hermione exploded into bliss once more as Harry spilled his seed into her
chamber. Magic sparked and the library trembled, Dora’s comics fluttering
lightly, remaining safely on the table.
***** Chapter 42: Under Summer Skies *****
Luna sighed happily, wriggling her bare toes in the grass as she sat near the
lakeshore patiently waiting for Ginny.
Sparrows twittered in the birches and butterflies flitted among the wild
primrose and azalea by the lake, the willows whispering in the cool breeze.
Several geese flew low above the shimmering surface of the Black Lake. Except
for birdsong and the hum of bees, it was quiet on the Hogwarts grounds, and
there was something very satisfying about having it nearly all to herself for
the summer.
Everything was almost perfect - now all she needed was her girlfriend and their
other friends. Luna had arrived the morning after the Order meeting, but the
Weasleys had decided to have Ginny and Ron for a few days at home before
sending them off to Hogwarts.
Neville was around, but he was a bit mopey as he was missing Hannah Abbott. He
was hanging out at the quidditch pitch reading a book while Viktor Krum soared
around the castle on a broom. And it would be a few days yet before Harry and
Hermione returned from London.
Finally Luna heard someone calling her name; she glanced back and grinned when
she saw a beaming face full of freckles and red hair.
“There you are...” said Ginny. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“I knew you’d find me here. This is the perfect spot,” said Luna. “How come Ron
didn’t come back to Hogwarts with you?”
“Wait... how did you know that?” Ginny looked very puzzled for a moment before
she realised that Luna was having one of her intuitive moments.
“I can tell by your face,” Luna replied with a giggle. “You don’t look
annoyed.”
“That’s a good point...” Ginny grinned, “Ron convinced Mum and Dad to let him
go to Ireland to hang out with Seamus instead.”
“That’s nice,” said Luna, pulling Ginny in for a steamy kiss. “Everyone should
get to hang out with their best friend for the summer.
“Mmhmm,” Ginny responded, her lips busily engaging with Luna’s.
Luna pulled Ginny closer until they were both rolling around in each other’s
arms on the grass together, giggling and kissing with reckless abandon. Ginny
ended up on her back, her skirt rucked up around her waist with Luna between
her parted thighs.
“Mmm...” Luna grinned, sliding her hand across the velvety skin of Ginny’s
lower abdomen, her fingertips reaching the waistband of Ginny’s knickers. “This
is much nicer without that creep McLaggen and his obnoxious friend watching.
Maybe we can do a bit more this time... There’s no-one else around.”
Ginny’s eyes widened and she nervously licked her lips, smiling shyly back.
Nobody else had ever made Ginny feel this way before. She’d been wanting to go
further with Luna for a while, but hadn’t been sure how to ask, afraid of
scaring her away. Ginny was delighted that Luna had taken the initiative.
“Er... alright then,” she squeaked. “I’d love to...”
Taking Ginny at her word, Luna slid her hand under the waistband of Ginny’s
knickers. Luna’s fingers brushed against a downy patch on Ginny’s mound; she
wondered if it was as red as her hair. Ginny trembled as Luna’s fingers reached
further down, finally arriving at Ginny’s already heated entrance.
The fingers rubbed along the outer rim of Ginny’s slit, pressed into her
dampening fold, her thumb finding the fleshy pearl hidden within.
Ginny gasped when she felt two of Luna’s fingers delving inside her, burrowing
until they were knuckle deep and could go no further. Her sopping sheath
clasped Luna’s digits tightly as Luna began thrusting. Ginny groaned, arching,
feeling the blades of grass flattening under her back.
This was much more intoxicating than diddling herself under bedcovers in the
dead of night. In a heady daze, Ginny kneaded Luna’s breasts through her
blouse, tugging her hardened nipples; Luna felt little tingles of pleasure
rippling through her at Ginny’s touch.
Imagining how much better it would feel without her blouse on and Ginny’s hands
touching her bare skin, Luna began pumping her fingers into Ginny faster, her
thumb flicking Ginny’s nubbin. Luna knew that Ginny had peaked when she
shuddered and squealed, bathing Luna’s fingers with her nectar.
Grinning with delight at having brought her partner to completion, Luna tugged
off her own blouse and tossed it aside before undoing the waist of her skirt.
“What are you doing?” Ginny squeaked anxiously.
“We’re trying that again,” Luna retorted breezily. “But this time without
clothes on...”
“But... but we’re outside...”
“So?” said Luna as she peeled her knickers off.
“Someone might see us...” Ginny moaned half-heartedly, nipples hardening, pulse
racing.
“Trust me, it’ll be even better this way.”
Ginny couldn’t bring herself to disagree. She grew wetter, flushing with desire
at the sight of Luna’s lissome figure utterly naked under the bright summer
sky, framed by the green foliage of the bushes behind her. Eyeing Luna’s
hairless slit and perky pink nipples, Ginny licked her lips.
Throwing caution to the wind, Ginny grinned and hurriedly pulled off her own
clothes as the squirrels peeked down at them from the branches of the sycamore
and the sparrows settled on the bushes to watch. Luna peered at Ginny with as
much enthusiasm as Ginny had regarded Luna, moments ago.
As she lay back on the grass, Luna noted that the delicate wisps upon the v
shaped apex of Ginny’s thighs were indeed as red as the hair on her head.
Giggling delightedly, Ginny pounced on Luna, this time taking position between
Luna’s parted legs, one hand squeezing Luna’s firm little globes, the other
sliding down Luna’s satiny belly and over her smooth mound. Feeling the cool
breeze against her bare skin and the grass under her knees as she slipped her
fingers inside Luna put Ginny over the top.
Moments later, she was moaning and gasping as much as Luna was and they both
lost themselves, climaxing together in a storm of ecstasy.
Still in a euphoric haze, fingers inside of Luna, Ginny’s eyes widened when she
thought she heard footsteps approaching. Luna’s breath caught and she gaped at
Ginny in shock when they both heard a voice drawing nearer. Panicking, Ginny
quickly pulled her sticky fingers out and grabbed her clothes as Luna snatched
at her own.
“I could have sworn I saw them come down this way earlier,” said a voice which
they both recognised, as they’d met Hestia Jones at the Order meeting. “They’re
lovely girls dear. I’m sure they would be happy to keep you company a bit while
you’re staying with me at Hogwarts...”
Ginny bit her lip, groaning as she looked around wildly for a place to hide.
Luna clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, and beckoned Ginny,
pointing to the bushes nearby. The embarrassed pair of nude young witches
scrambled under the bushes and covered each other’s mouths, both breathing
rapidly.
Huddled together, breasts squashed against one another, their hearts pounded as
one when they spied Hestia’s shoes and the shoes of someone they didn’t know
through the leaves only centimetre’s away. Unable to help herself, Ginny let
out a little squeak of shock when she spied her knickers dangling from the
twigs of a low branch at the edge of the bush’s canopy.
“Sssh...” hissed Luna.
But as the feet continued to pace around the grassy clearing, a naughty gleam
flashed in Luna’s big silvery grey eyes. Luna quietly slid down Ginny’s front
between her parted thighs giving her a sultry look, her lips drawing nearer to
Ginny’s heated entrance. Ginny’s eyes boggled and her face turned beet-red when
she realised what Luna was up to - she had never even imagined...
Ginny clasped her hand tightly over her mouth to stop herself from squealing
when she felt Luna’s lips pressed against her humid vulva. The delicious
sensation of Luna’s tongue burrowing deep inside her as Hestia Jones and the
unknown girl continued to peer around the clearing was too much and Ginny burst
ecstatically, wriggling and trying her hardest not to make a noise.
“Hmmmph... well, never mind dear, I expect we’ll see them at lunchtime. I’ll
introduce you then. I see a little boat out on the lake - perhaps they’re out
there...” The footsteps and Hestia’s voice faded into the distance as she and
the unknown girl traipsed back up to the castle.
Ginny and Luna gasped in relief and burst into giggles at having almost been
caught. Luna wiped her face and gave Ginny a kiss.
“How was it then?” asked Luna, grinning, fairly certain that she knew what the
answer would be.
“That was amazing - I’ve never felt anything like that...” said Ginny, biting
her lip and fluttering her eyelashes. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you
Luna?”
“Only about a hundred times,” Luna retorted, beaming happily. “I love you too
Ginny.”
As they dusted themselves off and dressed, shaking the twigs from their hair,
the pair of them couldn’t help feeling curious about the new girl at Hogwarts.
They scurried up to the castle for lunch, hoping to meet her. They arrived just
in time to see a girl with long black hair covering her face dart out of the
Great Hall with a plate of food.
“I wonder what that’s all about?” Ginny frowned in puzzlement as the girl
exited through the front doors of the castle. “She’s a bit too old to be a
First Year.”
“She looked sad and frightened,” said Luna, feeling rush of sympathy. “I wonder
if she’s only just discovered her magic... She might be a late-bloomer - I’ve
heard of them before.”
Seeing Neville sitting near the staff-table with Viktor, Ginny and Luna made
their way through the Great Hall to see if they knew anything.
“I dunno,” Neville told them when they asked, looking very perplexed.
“Dumbledore only told Viktor and me to leave her alone...”
“I think she might be ill,” Viktor added. “She get food, but looks at no-one.”
Luna furrowed her brow pensively as she put two and two together. She took
Ginny aside and whispered in her ear. Ginny gasped in horror, suddenly not
feeling quite so hungry.
                                     ~o0o~
Over the next few days, Jennifer had no idea yet what to make of Hogwarts.
Hestia was really kind, but Jennifer missed her parents and she was still
frightened. The old headmaster was nice and talked to her gently, but Jennifer
couldn’t bear looking at the male professors, or the two boys who sat near the
staff-table.
Sometimes she would glance at them, and she couldn’t help but see Ratface’s
head on their shoulders. Jennifer would do a double-take, and see that whoever
it was, it wasn’t really him, but it was still terrifying. Jennifer grabbed her
food and hid in an empty classroom or outside behind a bush at mealtimes,
unable to sit for one minute in the Great Hall with anyone else.
Jennifer had spied the other girls from a distance. They looked nice, but the
idea of actually meeting them scared her. Jennifer felt too ashamed and
humiliated to be near them, afraid that they would see how worthless she was.
At breakfast on Monday, as she had every day, Jennifer swiped a plate of food
and ran outside before anyone could see her, hiding between some bushes and a
low stone wall under a balustrade to eat. When she was finished, she began to
sob, not knowing what to do next.
Jennifer angrily wiped her tears away. She was tired of crying. Mum and Dad
weren’t coming back to make it all better, but she couldn’t help it. The tears
kept falling.
She suddenly stopped when a pair of big round silvery-grey eyes peered at
Jennifer through the leaves, belonging to a delicately featured face framed by
dirty-blonde hair. Jennifer froze, not daring to breathe.
The girl crawled through the bushes and kneeled in the soil, peering sadly at
Jennifer. The girl was slight, almost elfin, like a fairy; she didn’t look more
than 12 or 13, and she was wearing a sky blue dress with a white pinafore.
“They aren’t all horrible,” the girl said quietly.
Jennifer blinked, swallowing uncomfortably, puzzled.
“Boys I mean,” the girl responded.
Jennifer shuddered.
“Well, I suppose a lot of them leave much to be desired. I’m not entirely fond
of many of them myself. But I know one boy in particular who is really sweet...
And there’s a few other nice ones too,” the girl replied. “Viktor and Neville
for example... the boys staying here this summer.”
Jennifer thought this was the oddest conversation she had ever had. Odder than
the ones with the headmaster, who seemed to know what Jennifer was going to say
before she said it. Jennifer wasn’t even talking; she had spoken to the
headmaster and to Hestia, but that was only because she knew she was supposed
to speak when spoken to by adults who were looking after you. Jennifer couldn't
bring herself to speak to anyone else.
But the blonde girl seemed perfectly keen to carry on a conversation with a
mute girl as if she understood the words behind every silent gesture. Jennifer
pulled up her knees to her chest and hugged her arms around them, casting down
her eyes, long strands of ebony hair falling in her face.
“One of my friends’ younger sister was hurt badly by a boy too,” the girl said
sadly. “She’s being looked after at home now.”
Jennifer bit her lip, suddenly feeling sorry for someone other than herself.
“It’s alright to feel sad,” the girl sympathetically remarked. “I expect your
own circumstances are particularly dreadful. Harry and Hermione were both sad
when they first arrived at Hogwarts - at least that’s what Ginny told me.
“Hermione didn’t have any friends at first, and lots of people were mean to her
and bullied her - even Ginny’s brother did. Though Ginny’s brother isn’t so bad
really, just a bit rude and thoughtless... still, he was quite mean to Hermione
at first, but Harry told him off a few times. The last time he yelled at Ron -
after the dragon - Ron tried hard to be a bit nicer...
“From what I read in the papers - my father’s newspaper anyway - Harry was
treated quite awfully by his relatives for years. They made him sleep under a
staircase and didn’t let him have any friends. And his uncle and cousin used to
hit him all the time.
“Harry doesn’t like to talk about it much... He was staying with them because
when he was a baby, his parents were murdered by Voldemort...”
Unable to help herself, Jennifer gasped, and spoke for the first time -
suddenly not feeling quite so alone.
“Snakeface,” Jennifer hissed, feeling a flare of anger - surprised when her
misery diminished at the flash of rage. She flicked her hair out of her face
and looked at the blonde girl directly.
“Oh... is that what you call Voldemort?” the blonde girl asked.
“Er... y...yes - Voldemort killed my parents too - or rather, Ratface killed
them on Snakeface’s... on Voldemort’s orders...”
“I’m very sorry. Do you want me to stop talking?”
Jennifer shook her head. “No... I can manage. So what happened with Harry and
Hermione? Did they eventually get over things?” she asked hopefully.
“Oh yes...” the blonde girl smiled for the first time. “...Though he tries not
to show it, I think Harry still feels a bit sad on occasion - I don’t know if
it ever goes away completely. My own mum died a few years ago, and I still
think about her from time to time.
“But it’s not so bad for Harry now - especially since he and Hermione got
married...”
“Married, really?” Jennifer asked, letting her curiosity get the better of her,
distracted momentarily from her own situation. “How old are they then?”
“Harry’s going to be fifteen in a few weeks,” the girl replied. “Hermione’s
already fifteen.”
“Is... is that normal then? ... for wizards to get married so young I mean. I’m
fifteen and I can’t imagine being married.”
“Not really - I’m fourteen and I can’t imagine it either. Harry and Hermione
eloped... they’re allowed because they’d been emancipated. It was very
romantic,” the blonde girl sighed happily, a dreamy expression on her face. But
then a puzzled look crossed the girl’s features.
“Aren’t you a wizard too then?” the girl asked. “Ginny and I thought you were
just a late bloomer...”
“No...” Jennifer shook her head. “I’m non-magical. I’m just here because...
because... er... erm...” Jennifer reddened and trailed off, feeling humiliated
and dirty again, unable to say it.
“It’s alright,” the girl said gently. “You don’t have to talk about it... I
know things like that take time. But that explains why you didn’t seem to know
who Harry was - he’s Harry Potter, and he’s very famous in the wizard world
because he survived when his parents were killed by Voldemort.
“I had assumed that you had only learned about Voldemort recently, being new to
the wizard world... Still, it’s a bit odd that Dumbledore is letting you stay
here - muggles usually aren’t allowed to know about the wizard world... except
for immediate relatives of wizards of course.”
“I... er... I’m n...not sure why either r...really...” Her voice began to shake
and she trembled as the reason that she was at Hogwarts hit her with full force
again.
Tears ran down her flushed cheeks once more. Jennifer hid her face behind her
hair and bit her lip uncertainly, feeling miserable, like she’d rather be alone
again. But Jennifer felt torn. She missed having friends, and the girl seemed
very nice.
If Jennifer didn’t have to talk about Ratface - about the filthy things she had
done with Ratface - maybe she could manage to be friends with the girl.
Jennifer took a deep breath and tried to finish her thought.
“The headmaster s...said it was b...because Snakeface - Voldemort I mean... The
headmaster said that it was because my family had been attacked by Voldemort,
but I can tell there’s something a bit more to it... something personal I
think.”
The blonde girl nodded and peered at Jennifer perceptively
“My name is Luna by the way... Luna Lovegood. You should meet my girlfriend
Ginny - she’s very nice. She won’t try to make you talk about anything you
don’t want to - I promise.
“And you don’t have to talk to the boys if you don’t want to... Professor
Dumbledore already told them that you might be frightened of them. Though you
might like to talk to Harry when he returns from London with Hermione - they’ll
be back some time tomorrow. I think you and he might have some things to talk
about - and he’s very kind... he won’t pressure you.”
“Al...alright then. I th...think I’d like that. I’m Jennifer.... Jennifer
Watts, and... and it’s nice to meet you Luna,” Jennifer sniffled.
“It’s very nice to meet you too Jennifer,” Luna beamed. She stood up, brushed
the twigs and dirt from her knees and skirt, then took one of Jennifer’s hands
in her own, smiling dreamily. “Come on then - I’ll take you to meet Ginny
now...”
Jennifer swallowed anxiously, heart pounding, feeling the warmth of Luna’s soft
hand around hers. Taking a deep breath, Jennifer stood up and let the girl in
the Alice-dress lead her out of the bushes.
                                     ~o0o~
Harry yawned and blearily opened his eyes, glad to be awake, his scar
prickling. His dreams had been plagued with what he presumed to be flashbacks
to the lurching, grunting horrors emerging from the mist in the labyrinth
during the Third Task. He’d also had glimpses of Voldemort and Wormtail in some
sort of castle with a witch whom he couldn’t recall seeing before, but somehow
seemed vaguely familiar.
Sighing, Harry stroked Hermione’s tawny curls and kissed her forehead. Hermione
murmured and pulled Harry closer for a proper kiss. The heat of Hermione’s
embrace lessened the pain in his head like it always did. By the time their
lips parted, Harry felt much better and Hermione’s hair gleamed golden in the
sun streaming through the window.
“Mmm, Harry,” said Hermione, snuggling against him and smiling. “What time is
it? I don’t want to ever get up.”
Harry looked at the clock, his eyes widening when he saw the time.
“Blimey, it’s late - almost noon...” he groaned.
“Well yesterday was quite exhausting,” Hermione pointed out. “It’s not really
surprising that we slept so late.”
“Yeah... you’re right,” Harry agreed, “I still feel bloody knackered... I need
some coffee. How about you?”
“I think I’ll be alright with just tea,” said Hermione.
Everyone seemed to be engaged in some other sort of activity as the Potters
made their way down the stairs. On the way down they spotted Susan and Dudley
in the parlour watching television. Moody was sitting at the table reading a
newspaper. He looked up at Harry and Hermione with an amused expression on his
scarred face.
“Woke up late didja?” said Moody. “Can’t imagine why,” he added with a wink.
“Anyway, we’re about to have lunch in a bit...”
“Er... just thought we’d start with a bit of coffee...” said Harry.
“...and tea,” Hermione added.
Harry and Hermione both turned a bit pink, wondering if Moody was just
referring to the long day yesterday or implying something else. Just as the
Potters sat down with their coffee and tea Dudley burst into the kitchen, his
eyes wide with fear and excitement.
“Harry, come quick. You’ve got to see the news on the telly. You’re not going
to believe this...”
Dudley was right. Harry and Hermione were stunned by the ongoing BBC reports
from the MetroCentre Mall in Gateshead, as was Moody. Soon everyone else began
arriving, wondering what the commotion was all about. Petunia gasped and
fainted. Fleur and Dora arrived just in time to catch her before she hit the
floor.
“Bloody Hell!” gasped Dora. “Is that what I think it is?”
“What’s going on?” asked Jean when she arrived with her sister and Abbie
Brixton.
“Zombies,” said Dudley breathlessly. “They’re attacking that shopping centre in
Gateshead.”
Seeing Petunia passed out, Abbie darted out of the parlour to find some
smelling salts. She waved them under Petunia’s nose.
“Come on dear, you don’t need to see any more of this,” said Abbie, leading
Petunia back to her room when she came to.
“I can’t believe that Zombies are real,” Dudley gasped as he watched the images
on the television of Special Operations forces shooting ineffectually at the
mass of lurching corpses surrounding and invading the MetroCentre Mall. The
special police units were aiming for the heads, but nothing seemed to stop the
“zombies.”
“Yeah... Though technically, wizards call them Inferi,” Harry said. “Apparently
Zombies are something a bit different - I’m still not clear on what the
difference is though.”
“Inferi are just mindless corpses reanimated and controlled by a spell - like a
puppet, or more accurately, like a robot programmed to perform certain tasks,”
Hermione explained. “Zombies are magically reanimated corpses too, but somehow,
the soul of the person is also resurrected and trapped inside the otherwise
still quite dead body.”
“That’s revolting...” Jean looked horrified.
“Voldemort used ‘em in the last war,” Moody growled. “Looks like he’s at it
again. Bit odd seeing them still attackin’ in daytime though. They generally
avoid the light and retreat when dawn breaks. I suppose Voldy is sending a
message...”
“How do you kill them in real life?” Dudley asked excitedly. “Why don’t they
die if you shoot them in the head.”
“Well, that’s just it. You can’t kill what’s dead already. They aren’t
partially living with minimally functioning brains like the ones in muggle
films seem to be,” Mad Eye replied. “Inferi don’t feel pain or fear. Though
they don’t like light and heat, and can be repelled by certain Light and Heat
spells... but to destroy ‘em completely you have to use some sort of fire
spell.
“Confringo can take out a few o’ the buggers at a time, or more depending on
how powerful the spell is. A Firestorm spell works even better - takes out
loads at a time... Disintegration spells like the Reductor Curse can work on
‘em too, but only the one you’re aiming at. If you’ve got people trapped by a
load of the buggers, you’re in trouble...”
“The police could just use flame-throwers then, couldn’t they?” said Dudley.
The grizzled ex-Auror snorted and grimaced. He was starting to like Dudley’s
enthusiasm.
“Too dangerous in this sorta situation, unless they wanna torch the whole mall
and every living person inside... and you run the risk of flaming Inferi
runnin’ around catchin’ everything else on fire before they finally succumb...
Really, the only time you want to use a Firestorm spell is when you’ve got a
load of ‘em in an enclosed area away from other people and flammable
surroundings.”
“What about a Patronus?” Harry asked pensively, glancing at Hermione who was
equally curious. Neither of them had thought to mention how their patronuses
had affected the Inferi to Dumbledore during their conversation.
“Eh? I suppose it would be quite effective as a shield or repellin’ charm
actually,” Moody replied, “but that’s it. A Patronus can’t destroy anything...
Still can’t figure out what happened to those Dementors at the maze. Dumbledore
doesn’t even seem to know...”
Harry and Hermione shared an awkward look, but nobody caught it. The only other
person who knew was Dora. Harry had been wanting to tell Sirius and Remus about
it too, but he and Hermione really hadn’t had the opportunity yet.
After a somber breakfast, Harry, Hermione, Dora, and Fleur packed up and
readied themselves to return to Hogwarts.
“Look after yourselves, dears.” Jean gave Hermione and Harry both a hug,
smiling at Dora and Fleur.
“We will Mum!” Hermione smiled tearfully, giving her mother a kiss on the
cheek. “I'll miss you...”
“Bye Mum!” Harry swallowed and gave Jean one last hug. One by one, the Potters
followed Dora and Fleur into the green flames.
                                     ~o0o~
The Dark Lord was most pleased. He stroked Nagini’s head absentmindedly as he
admired his and Bellatrix’s handiwork on the muggle contraption called
television in one of the parlours of the new muggle residence which he and
Wormtail had taken after the assault on Azkaban, having killed its inhabitants.
It was perfect. It had specifically been chosen during the planning phase: an
old castle in the Scottish headlands big enough to house the Dark Lord’s
growing army with an estate large enough for the Trolls and the Giants. And
being a muggle dwelling, it was a residence which the Dark Witch and her Death
Eaters - the Dark Lord’s treacherous ex-supporters he reminded himself - would
not be expecting to find him in.
Voldemort had paid such muggle technologies little heed before, having been
more inclined in his previous incarnation to reside in Pureblood wizard homes
full of magic, where such technologies didn’t operate properly, if at all. But
a number of Snatchers who were involved in the criminal underworld had
mentioned the practical utility of the many electronic devices favoured by
muggle burglars.
And the Dark Lord was nothing if not pragmatic. He had put the corpses of the
muggle residents of the castle to good use as experimental subjects. They had
become the first Inferi endowed with new abilities, which - with Wormtail’s
skilled assistance - the Dark Lord and Bellatrix had created after the
consummation of their union.
Wormtail had then organised the Snatchers into units which had been dispatched
to ransack hospitals and police morgues for the Freshly Dead, and to plunder
the contents of graveyards. These the Dark Lord would use for phase one of his
plan. Bellatrix had ingeniously devised some new rituals and spells giving the
Inferi the ability to operate in daylight without retreat.
The Dark Lord knew that this first strike would eventually be brought to an
end, but it mattered little. The message for the Dark Witch and the Old Fool
had been sent loud and clear. The Dark Witch could have the Dark Lord’s old
supporters for now - they would soon beg to return to their True Master’s side
when they began to fall before his True Might.
And the Old Fool - he would learn once and for all that Love was a weakness.
There was no Good or Evil, no “Light” or “Dark,” only Power; and the Old Fool
would bear witness to the Truth that those without magical blood were destined
to be ruled by those who were willing to use that Power.
                                     ~o0o~
When the first memo hit his desk, Senior Undersecretary Weasley’s eyes bulged
and he spat out his tea in horror. He groaned loudly; there was no way the
Ministry was going to be able to contain this with a few obliviations. The
muggle media were already all over it. Cursing Voldemort under his breath,
Senior Undersecretary Weasley hurriedly scribbled a memo and threw some Floo
Powder into the fireplace in his office.
                                     ~o0o~
Minister Dolores Umbridge had just had a very productive morning conferring
with the muggle Prime Minister.
He was under a lot of pressure, despite the economic successes and the positive
movement in the Northern Ireland peace process. His party was embroiled in one
scandal after another, and his leadership was being challenged right and left.
Since Dolores had come to know him shortly after she had taken office, the PM
had been more than amenable to the suggestions of the Minister of Magic and
they had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.
She had just sat down with her first cup of tea upon her return to the Ministry
when her hearth erupted into green flames and a memo flew out. She pursed her
lips and snatched it out of the air. Minister Umbridge read over the short memo
twice with a gasp. After the initial flash of anger faded, Dolores’s eyes
narrowed and a cruel smile pulled at the corner of her lips.
This couldn’t be more perfect.
She would have to notify the PM immediately and offer the Ministry’s services
of course - after all, only wizards could effectively halt an Inferi attack and
rescue the muggles trapped inside the mall. But not until after she had
arranged the assassination of two of the “wobblies” who had let the Potters off
the hook.
Both lived very near Gateshead, and their deaths could easily be made to look
like the work of Voldemort’s Inferi.
                                     ~o0o~
The rotund wizard with a walrus moustache, wearing a maroon velvet jacket,
stepped out of the green flames and peered around the office before
acknowledging the wizard with a long silvery beard who was sitting behind the
desk. He nodded at Fawkes who fluttered his wings and trilled in recognition.
“Well Albus, it has been quite some time indeed since I have been in this
office,” said the pleased looking wizard. “I must say you are looking quite
well, all things considered... quite well indeed.”
“Thank you Horace - that is very kind of you to say.” Dumbledore’s clear blue
eyes twinkled as he directed the wizard to take a seat in one of the well-
cushioned chintz armchairs. “Some tea perhaps? You might also like some
biscuits after your journey... or perhaps some crystallised pineapple?” he
concluded with a wink.
“Oh, of course Albus...” Horace beamed as the chair creaked heavily under his
weight. “I’d be delighted to my dear fellow... delighted.”
“I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to join us Horace,” said Dumbledore
after they had both taken a sip of tea, “...and for giving me your memory. That
is most helpful, and quite brave of you.”
“Yes, well, seeing that you‘ve managed to keep Karkaroff alive might have
something to do with it,” Horace chuckled. “That went a long way to reassuring
me regarding your protection... quite persuasive I must say.
“Though, to be perfectly honest Albus, I must say that your enticements were
especially convincing... I can’t say how pleased I am to have the chance to
teach Harry Potter himself - that will be quite a feather in my cap... quite a
feather indeed.
“Severus tells me that Mr Potter is quite the potions prodigy... and that Mr
Potter’s wife is one such as well - one who might easily be a match for Lily.
Two for the price of one... an offer that simply can’t be beaten Albus...
simply marvelous, I must say.”
“Quite!” Dumbledore agreed. “Though there is the small matter of convincing the
Potters to both elect to take on an Alchemy course.”
“Oh that shan’t be a problem I don’t doubt... not a problem at all if they are
truly as diligent as I have been told.”
“Indeed they are Horace...” Dumbledore regarded keenly the chuffed wizard
before him, about to continue when an insistent knocking on his door alerted
him. Professor McGonagall burst into his office, her features panic-stricken.
“Oh... good heavens! Horace,” she said, quite surprised to see him in
Dumbledore’s office. “It’s very good to see you again... I’m sorry to interrupt
but this is quite urgent Albus. You must come at once. A muggle shopping centre
in Gateshead is under attack by an Inferi Swarm...”
“In broad daylight?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up in perplex. “That is most
unusual, and quite disturbing. Forgive me Horace, but it appears that I am
needed. You will be quite safe here in the meantime...”
                                     ~o0o~
Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour scowled appraisingly at the chaotic
scene at the Metrocentre Mall in Gateshead. He had just arrived, and had been
given carte blanche to take over as an “MI5 Counter-terrorist Operations
Manager.”
He wished that he had been called in sooner. It was shortly after noon now, and
Scrimgeour wondered why it had taken so long for the Minister to call him. He
supposed that perhaps it had taken the Minister a few hours to talk the muggle
Prime Minister into letting wizards take over.
Scrimgeour also wished that he still had Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish
to work with; they had been his top two agents. But they had been too close to
Scrimgeour’s previous boss, Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, and she had been
too close to the Crafty Old Coot who ran Hogwarts.
Head Auror Scrimgeour wasn’t entirely certain that he trusted Minister Umbridge
- which wasn’t saying much, as he didn’t really trust anyone. She wore far too
many hats for his liking - she had been Head of the Improper Use of Magic
Office when she had also taken on the role of Fudge’s Senior Undersecretary.
Now, Dolores Umbridge was not only the Minister of Magic, but the Acting Head
of the DMLE as well. And yet Scrimgeour was almost certain that Umbridge had
also at one time been a staffer in the Department of Mysteries - an
Unspeakable. Her career path was baffling to say the least.
Still, the Minister certainly had the right idea about Dumbledore. And unlike
Fudge, Minister Umbridge was willing to do whatever it took to get the job done
properly - no matter how harsh the measures, so Head Auror Scrimgeour had to
give her that.
Scrimgeour's features hardened. First things first. It was time to issue a
blackout on the muggle media coverage, and to clear all muggles from the area
within a few mile radius so that the DMLE’s HIT-Wizards could put down the
Inferi quickly with Firestorm spells without being observed.
He would do his best to rescue some of the muggles in the mall of course, but
he didn’t want to waste too much time, or put any wizards at risk trying to
locate them all. If a few muggles died, that was unfortunate, but so be it.
There was a loud crack and Scrimgeour started.
“Mulligan, what are you doing here?” Scrimgeour noted Auror Mulligan’s sweaty
disheveled appearance.
“Saving some muggles sir,” Mulligan responded with heavy breaths, “I got here
an hour ago and I decided not to wait for the go ahead. I called in several
other aurors too. We’ve just been rescuing and obliviating and staying out of
sight of the muggle authorities.”
“Good... that’s good then,” Scrimgeour nodded, frowning, “Don’t worry about
acting without orders. You did the right thing. My hands were tied until the
Minister got the green-light from the Muggle PM.”
“So what now Sir?”
“You did your bit, let the HIT-Team do theirs. We're going to use Firestorm
Spells and let the place burn.”
“Should I have a Magical Repair Team ready Sir?” Mulligan asked, perplexed.
Scrimgeour shook his head.
“No, the Minister said not to worry.” Scrimgeour actually looked more than a
bit surprised himself. “The muggle Prime Minister told her that the owners have
insurance, and that he would be able to sell the cover story better if we just
leave it destroyed - the muggle PM was already considering using flamethrowers
and other incendiary weapons anyway.
“He is planning to tell the muggle civilians that the Inferi are ‘living dead,’
victims of an escaped, incurable, genetically modified necrotising virus...
Apparently the concept of sustained attacks by reanimated corpses has already
been widely introduced to muggles through their entertainments, and they will
accept it quite readily...”
                                     ~o0o~
Albus Dumbledore sighed with distaste as Minerva, Poppy, and Filius obliviated
the last few muggles that they had evacuated from the mall and sent them
wandering into the crowds beyond the perimeter which the muggle police had
created. With the magically implanted memories the muggles had been given, it
would just be assumed that they had somehow managed to escape the hordes of
Undead who had invaded the Mall.
Severus appeared out of nowhere with a loud pop.
“Auror Mulligan and I have finished with our lot Headmaster,” Snape said.
“Scrimgeour finally arrived, and I sent Mulligan to cover for us. He has taken
some of the muggles we rescued, so that Scrimgeour can claim a few saves.”
“Well done, Severus.” Dumbledore nodded approvingly. “We shall leave behind the
bodies of those already dead for Rufus to find.”
“What on Earth took Scrimgeour so bloody long?” snarled Madam Pomfrey, who was
covered in blood from the muggles she had treated.
“That is quite a puzzle indeed Poppy,” the headmaster responded. “However, we
should count ourselves quite fortunate that we had the time to rescue those
that we could without being harassed or impeded by the Ministry. If I know
Rufus, he is no doubt preparing to burn the place to the ground to eliminate
the Inferi threat as quickly as possible, with little regard for the lives of
non-magical humans.”
“Yes, well, speaking of which, perhaps we should leave before Rufus discovers
us here,” Minerva said, glancing around anxiously.
                                     ~o0o~
Dora burst out of the green flames into the Hogwarts Staff-room. She tripped
over the hearth and fell into Fleur’s arms.
“Every. Bloody. Time...” Dora grumbled after she’d stopped hacking and caught
her breath. “Thanks for the save Fleur.”
“I would not be much of a girlfriend if I did not, chérie,” Fleur smiled,
trying her hardest not to titter. Harry and Hermione dizzily burst out of the
green flames, coughing and wheezing, just in time to see Fleur give Dora a
sultry kiss to cheer her up.
“Welcome back Tonks!”
Dora looked up, eyes widening, spying Lupin standing nearby with a wry smile on
his face.
“Wotcher Lupin!” Dora turned pink. “Where’s Pomfrey? I thought she was supposed
to be greetin’ us.”
“There’s been an Inferi attack...” Lupin began.
“In Gateshead... we know! We were watching it on the BBC news just before we
left,” Hermione interjected, her voice slightly shrill with worry.
“Indeed,” Lupin nodded sadly, “Dumbledore took Pomfrey, Flitwick, McGonagall,
and a few other professors and Order members to rescue as many muggles as they
could. Sirius and I stayed behind with Hagrid to avoid trouble with the
Ministry.”
“Of course,” Harry sighed.
“Indeed, it will be problematic enough as it is, if the current administration
runs into any of the Order at the scene... Well, let’s just say we don’t want
to give them any ideas about trying to pin this on Dumbledore,” Lupin replied.
“But that’s just mad!” gasped Hermione, bristling with outrage. “Everyone knows
Dumbledore wouldn’t create Dark Creatures and set them on Muggles...”
“Believe me, that would not stop the Minister from trying anyway.”
“Yeah... we know,” Harry said quietly. “The Minister... She won’t stop at
anything to get us. She’s trying to make it look like we’re the bad guys, and
she’s been doing a pretty good job of it so far. We were lucky to get Ragnok on
our side - he really swung it for us.”
“Yeah... but now that you’ve claimed your Seat on the Wizengamot Harry, you’ve
set ‘er back a bit,” Dora said with some pride. “You shoulda seen ‘im Lupin.
Harry was amazing - a real hero. The whole Wizengamot was in an uproar when ‘e
and Hermione won - between their supporters and their detractors - but he
shouted over all of them and shut the lot up.”
“It was fantastic! The look on Percy’s and that Foul Evil Toad’s faces when
Harry took his Seat as a Warlock made my day!” Hermione squeaked, her eyes
shining.
“That’s excellent Harry!” Lupin beamed. “Sirius will be absolutely thrilled to
hear that...”
“Where is he anyway? I can’t wait to see him and tell him all about it,” Harry
said with a grin.
“You can visit both of us in the Shrieking Shack after dinner for a bit if you
would like,” Lupin replied cheerfully. “But I should think that you would want
to spend a bit of time with your friends first.”
The Potters, Fleur, and Dora found Viktor and Neville outside on the lawn,
where Viktor was helping Neville improve his broom riding skills. Harry grinned
to see Neville actually enjoying himself on a broom for once, and Harry was
determined to have a go at getting Hermione on a broom this summer. But Harry
was a bit puzzled about one thing.
“Why aren’t you on the quidditch pitch?”
“Ah... zat is because ve give Ginny and Luna time to show ze new girl vot is
like riding broom,” Viktor replied.
“New girl?” asked Hermione, looking as perplexed as Harry. Dora and Fleur
looked equally bewildered.
“Yeah...” Neville nodded. “There’s a new girl here for the summer - Ginny and
Luna are with her. Viktor and I haven’t met her properly yet though, because
Dumbledore said we’re to leave her alone until she’s ready to introduce
herself.”
Their curiosity piqued, the Potters made their way to the quidditch pitch,
followed by Dora and Fleur. Ginny and Luna swooped down to meet them and leapt
off their brooms, squealing happily.
“You got off... you got off,” shrieked Ginny as she flung herself on the
Potters.
“I knew you would,” said Luna, a bit more sedately but grinning nonetheless.
Harry and Hermione looked up in the stands at the girl Neville and Viktor had
told them about to see her watching them. It suddenly occurred to the Potters
that it must be the rescued muggle girl when the sunlight caught her black hair
and struck their eyes.
                                     ~o0o~
Luna had been right. Jennifer liked Ginny a lot. Jennifer felt a bit better
hanging out with the girls. They had shown Jennifer how to play wizard chess
and exploding snap, and chatted a bit about their lives, and what it was like
being witches and going to school at Hogwarts.
Then Luna and Ginny had demonstrated flying on brooms, which Jennifer couldn’t
help laughing about at first - despite herself - as it seemed so cliche. She
couldn’t believe they really did that sort of thing. Luna invited Jennifer to
sit on a broomstick with her while she flew, but Jennifer shook her head. It
definitely seemed too scary.
But sitting in the stands and watching the girls swooping and diving, Jennifer
had to admit that it looked exciting. A movement on the field caught Jennifer’s
eye. Her stomach tied in knots when she spied four people whom she hadn’t met
enter the field.
Jennifer relaxed a bit when she realised that they were friends of Luna and
Ginny. But Jennifer became alarmed and looked for a place to hide when they
spotted her and began to make their way into the stands. Jennifer hugged her
knees to her chest and shrank back into her seat, letting her long dark hair
hide her face.
Trembling, Jennifer peered between the strands of her ebony hair. Luna
approached with the four newcomers. Jennifer’s eyes widened in recognition when
they drew closer.
The girl with bushy golden-brown hair was obviously Hermione. The older girls
must be Dora and Fleur. Then the boy - Jennifer realised that he was the first
one who didn’t induce an image of Ratface superimposed on his face. His eyes...
they were so green, almost impossibly green, and they seemed too pretty to be a
boy’s eyes.
“Hi Jennifer,” Luna said with a serene smile, “this is Harry Potter...”
***** Chapter 43: Rites of Renewal *****
Both curious about the girl in the stands, Dora and Fleur had followed the
others to meet her. Dora stiffened as they drew nearer to the girl. Despite the
bright sunny afternoon, a chill ran up her spine and she clutched Fleur a bit
tighter for reassurance. A surge of anger knotted Dora’s stomach when she saw
the girl with black hair scrunch up and try to hide her face; she recognised
that look.
It was the same look which had caused Dora to nearly get herself expelled from
Hogwarts - until Mad Eye had made her the offer that she couldn’t really
refuse. It was the look which Dora had seen in her previous girlfriend’s eyes.
“Let’s hold back here for a moment Fleur,” she murmured. “I don’t wanna
overwhelm her...” Though in truth, it was Dora herself who was feeling a bit
overcome.
“Oui, Chérie...” Fleur nodded, biting her lip. The girl’s discomfort was quite
apparent to her.
Finally having the chance to meet the girl that he had seen through Voldemort’s
eyes, looking down from the top of basement stairs, Harry flushed and swallowed
nervously when Luna introduced him. He felt embarrassed and ashamed to have
seen Jennifer in such a vulnerable state.
Jennifer opened her mouth to say hello. But it had gone dry, and she couldn’t
speak. Luna put her arm around Jennifer as Ginny sat beside them both.
“Er... Hi Jennifer... erm... it’s... er... it’s nice to meet you...” Harry
trailed off lamely, not quite meeting her eye and mentally kicking himself for
not being able to think of anything better to say. Hermione squeezed his hand
comfortingly.
Jennifer was startled, seeing that Harry was as anxious about meeting her as
she was to meet him. Jennifer relaxed slightly and Luna’s smile widened.
“Hello,” said Jennifer, her voice small and slightly quavering. “It’s good to
meet you too Harry. Th...thank you! The headmaster... he told me that it was
you - that you were the one to thank for rescuing me...”
Harry winced and swallowed again, turning even redder, wondering just how much
Dumbledore had told Jennifer.
“It... it’s alright,” said Jennifer, peering at Harry gratefully. “If you
hadn’t... if you hadn’t seen me somehow, nobody would’ve found me, and I... I
probably would’ve died...”
After some more awkward introductions, it was obvious to Hermione that Jennifer
was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Hermione suggested that they spend a bit more
time together whenever Jennifer felt up to it; she and Harry left everyone to
it, deciding it was time to visit Sirius. Taking the secret tunnel under the
Whomping Willow, they arrived at the Shrieking Shack to find Sirius and Remus
awaiting them. There was an afternoon Tea-spread on the table with pork pies,
finger sandwiches, and slab of Cheshire cheese, but instead of tea a large
bottle and several wine glasses stood on a lace doily in the centre of the
table.
“I heard Ragnok really gave that Old Hag at the Ministry what-for,” Sirius
grinned, popping open the bottle of Elf-made-wine. “...And that you took the
Wizengamot by storm. Good show Harry!”
“And it appears that Tonks will be needing new employment,” Remus raised his
eyebrows, his moustache twitching. “...And possibly new lodgings as well when
she’s not in school?”
“Er... yeah,” said Harry, looking a bit surprised, wondering what Remus had
heard. “I might as well tell you both anyway. I asked Dora to come and live
with me and Hermione while we’re not at school...”
“...and she’s going to stay on at Hogwarts as a real post-grad student now,”
Hermione added happily.
“Indeed,” said Remus. “Dumbledore considered that it might be good to maintain
Tonks’ cover to keep her at Hogwarts anyway. She might as well further her
education a bit while she’s at it.”
“That only makes sense. Dora will need to train for a new career anyway,” said
Sirius, taking a swig of the Elf-wine. “At least until we get a more amenable
administration in the Ministry.”
“Er... about that, Sirius...” Harry began, all of a sudden feeling a bit
awkward, as he was more or less the one who had convinced Dora to follow her
dreams.
“Please, don’t be cross with Harry,” Hermione squeaked, coming to his rescue,
“One of the reasons Harry offered Dora to come and live with us, is because he
wants Dora to be happy and do her music or draw comics...”
“Why would I be cross?” chortled Sirius, “I’m her elder cousin, not her father.
I think that’s an excellent idea - she is your family as well, after all... and
it’ll be nice for Dora to get a chance to pursue her dreams.”
“Andromeda and Ted might have a few issues though...” sighed Remus, “You’ll
keep this to yourself for now I hope Sirius. It’s up to Dora to tell them.”
“Of course I will Remus,” Sirius responded in a slightly wounded tone. “I want
Dora to be happy too. Speaking of which, it’s nice that she finally found a new
girlfriend.” Sirius turned to Harry and smirked. “So Harry, I take it Fleur
will eventually be staying with you and Hermione as well? Maybe Skeeter was
onto something...?”
Harry and Hermione both turned pink, wondering how Sirius and Remus could have
possibly gleaned their apparent knowledge of some of the Potters’ plans for the
future. But they couldn’t help being amused by Sirius’s cheeky insinuation,
regardless.
“Sirius, you promised you wouldn’t tease them...” Remus admonished Sirius. “In
any case, whatever they get up to is their own business.”
“See what I have to deal with!?” Sirius rolled his eyes, then he winked at
Harry and Hermione, taking another sip of the wine. “That’s why I love Remus
though. He keeps me on the straight and narrow - keeps me sane.”
Remus smiled wryly, palming his reddening face. For their part, Harry and
Hermione both grinned, tickled by the exchange. They took a sip from their own
glasses of the Elf-wine. Harry thought it was about time to give Sirius a taste
of his own medicine, and satisfy his curiosity at the same time.
“Er... I hope you don’t mind me asking, Sirius,” Harry began, a perfectly
innocent expression on his face, “but why did you have posters of muggle pin-up
girls on your wall? They were still there the last time I had a look in your
room.”
Hermione and Remus both tried to stifle their smirks. For the first time during
the visit, Sirius looked slightly abashed.
“Touché Harry! Well... erm... that’s a bit awkward to explain... On the one
hand, I was trying to take the piss out of Mum and Dad by putting up pictures
of muggles, but on the other hand, I...er... I didn’t want them or Regulus to
know that I liked blokes too...”
Sirius glanced at Remus and grinned. “...Especially one in particular.”
After swallowing a mouthful of pork pie, Harry asked the next question on the
top of his mind.
“Er... Sirius, I was wondering... We spotted a portrait of Phineas Nigellus
Black in the National Portrait Gallery in London...”
“...and we were both curious,” continued Hermione. “If he was in Slytherin and
a Pureblood, what would he be doing in a muggle art gallery?”
“Hah!” Sirius snorted. “Good question... He was after all a real Pureblood snob
- and the most hated headmaster to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
But during Queen Victoria’s reign he was the leader of a movement by some
Pureblood families to openly take control of muggle Britain through the
political process.
“It was to that end he made his presence known to the Queen’s court - but of
course at the time pretending to be part of a ‘muggle’ Occult secret society
designed to accustom muggles to the idea of wizard rule.”
“He was in large part responsible for the rise of muggle Occult groups during
the late Victorian era...” Remus added. “Aleister Crowley is one of the most
famous muggle ‘sorcerers’ from that period who was influenced by Phineas.
“The movement was eventually squashed by the Purebloods who believed that the
wizard world should remain a secret. It is part of wizarding history not taught
in history courses for rather obvious reasons.”
To say that Harry and Hermione were both stunned and fascinated by the
information would be an understatement. They spent the rest of their
celebration with Sirius and Remus peppering them with questions on the topic.
Following Tea with Remus and Sirius, still mulling over the astonishing
revelations, Harry and Hermione made their way back to the castle, feeling
mildly tipsy from the Elf-wine. They spotted Professor McGonagall and Flitwick
near the entrance to the Great Hall, both looking a bit worn and frayed with
what appeared to be blood stains on their clothing.
“Ah... there you are, Potters,” said McGonagall. “Professor Dumbledore would
like a moment with you in his office.”
“Professor McGonagall, are you alright?” asked Hermione, concerned by the sight
of the blood.
“Perfectly, Mrs Potter. Now don’t keep the headmaster waiting... no doubt he
shall be wanting to clean up a bit as well.”
As Harry and Hermione took seats in the comfy armchairs in front of
Dumbledore’s desk, they both noticed how disheveled and haggard he looked. His
own robes were splotchy with red stains as well. Dumbledore waved his wand, and
a pot of tea with three cups appeared, which the Potters were both pleased to
see, as they hadn’t actually had any tea at Teatime with Sirius and Remus.
“Please, help yourselves, and bear with me for a moment... I must apologise for
my appearance. It has been a rather long and trying day,” said Dumbledore.
“Remus told us you were rescuing muggles,” Harry acknowledged after taking a
sip of tea. Curiosity got the better of him. “Did you have to fight any Inferi
yourself Sir?”
“Ah, indeed, I did have to employ a disintegration curse several times myself,”
the headmaster replied, “...and I am most grateful for the quick reflexes of
Professor Flitwick. If it were not for him, we would most likely be having this
chat in the hospital wing.”
“Are you alright Professor?” asked Hermione, her eyes wide at the frightful
notion of Dumbledore being injured by Inferi.
Albus Dumbledore’s eyes began to twinkle, seeing the care and concern in his
students’ faces.
“Quite alright Mrs Potter... Just a bit shaken still. However, perhaps we
should move on to why I asked to meet with you and Harry. First, I wish to
express my utmost relief that you both survived your encounter with the
Minister.
“However, I also have some information to impart. I managed to uncover and
compile some very interesting particulars about Voldemort’s history which I
believe are important to share with you both.
“I have finally managed to obtain perhaps the most critical piece of the puzzle
only recently, and I would like you to examine it with me. Though, I think
perhaps it can wait until tomorrow, or even the day after... I am quite worn
out and it behooves me to confer with some members of the Order after recent
events.
“In the meantime, please feel free to make continued use of the delightfully
magical Room of Requirement. I would also, at some point, perhaps... after one
of your... erm... sessions, like to examine some of your Spell-work and observe
any changes...”
“Really?” Hermione interjected, quivering excitedly, “Are we going to do some
scientific experiments then?” she asked. Harry’s eyes began to gleam with
thrill as well.
The headmaster nodded, pleased to see the eagerness to explore the boundaries
of magic in the Potters’ faces.
“Yes, indeed we shall Mrs Potter... and as I was about to say, I am especially
keen to examine your Patroni - and if my instrument readings are correct, it
would appear that your Patronus practice in the Room of Requirement has also
accrued to Hogwarts. By all means, I would be delighted for you to continue
your practice with such as well”
                                     ~o0o~
As Jennifer sat with Luna and Ginny on one of the stone benches along the front
of the castle, plates of dinner on their laps, one by one stars began peeking
like little diamonds from the deepening purple curtain of sky and she felt a
surge of emotion. She took another bite of the shepherd’s pie and for the first
time since she had arrived at Hogwarts, Jennifer actually noticed how delicious
the food was.
“You alright?” asked Ginny, seeing a tear trickling down one of Jennifer’s
cheeks. Jennifer nodded.
“Yeah... yeah I think I am actually...” Jennifer let out a peaceful sort of
sigh, feeling the knot of tension in her middle unwinding. She glanced at Luna
apologetically. “And thanks for bringing Harry Potter to meet me Luna. I... I
suppose I wasn’t really sure that I could manage after all... but I did - I
needed to. Sorry I wasn’t up for much more than that.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” said Luna kindly. “I know Harry understands. It
must have been very overwhelming for you.”
“I want to talk to Harry some more... I really do...” Jennifer offered Luna a
wan little smile. “Maybe tomorrow I can manage to actually hang out with him
and the others a bit...”
                                     ~o0o~
The Potters and Fleur couldn’t help but notice Dora picking at her food moodily
all through dinner, her spiky hair listless and a subdued shade of violet.
Harry and Hermione glanced at each other in silent communication as they walked
back through the castle with Dora and Fleur to their respective quarters in the
Unaffiliated corridor.
“Would you and Fleur like to join us for a bit, Dora?” asked Hermione, a note
of concern in her voice. “Maybe have something to drink?”
“What? Oh... er...” Dora swallowed and glanced at Fleur, not sure what she
wanted really. Fleur gave her a sad little smile.
“Chérie, per’aps you would like to talk a bit... non? ... tell us what ees
wrong?”
Dora sighed. She hated talking about it - hated thinking about it. But now that
the burning memory had been rekindled, Dora knew that she wasn’t going to get
off that easy. She wasn’t going to be able to tamp it down and it might eat at
her for days... or even weeks.
She bit her lip, eyes glistening, then slowly nodded. “Al... alright then...
Might as well I s’pose. Maybe I’ll sleep a bit better if I do.”
When they were all settled around the crackling fire in the Potters’ sitting
room, holding mugs of steaming cocoa, Dora finally revealed herself. As they
listened, Harry and Hermione remembered back to the very first day that they’d
met Dora, and the painful memory that she had glossed over during her first
visit to their private chambers.
“It all ‘appened in sixth year,” Dora began glumly, chewing on a fingernail.
“My girlfriend... it was after dinner and just before curfew one evenin’ - I
found ‘er lookin’ a lot like Jennifer did this afternoon. She wouldn’t tell me
what happened, but I kept naggin’ her until she finally did.
“She told me she’d been raped - didn’t wanna tell me ‘oo’d done it... but I
finally got that outta her too. After she’d told me, I tracked down the bloke
and went ballistic on ‘im... beat him to a pulp with my bare ‘ands...
“Anyway, the long and short of it is that when they pulled me offa him, she’d
totally clammed up... she was too afraid of ‘is family to say anything or press
charges - they were pureblood, old time Voldy supporters like the Malfoys, and
she was muggleborn. Under the circumstances, there wasn’t much Dumbledore could
do, and to make matters worse, the bloody bastard’s parents pressed charges
against me!”
There were horrified gasps and shocked looks all around, but Dora paid them
little heed as she went on.
“O’ course Dumbledore - bein’ ‘oo he is and all - knew that the arse’ole had it
comin’... but he couldn’t do a whole lot to ‘elp me without proof. In the end,
the best he could do was get Mad Eye to convince the parents to drop the
charges against me... Dunno how Mad Eye managed it - maybe he had somethin’ on
‘em that woulda made them look bad.
“But anyway, the deal with Mad Eye involved recruitin’ me to join the Auror
corps after graduation... so that’s ‘ow I got roped into the Ministry. And...
and seein’ Jennifer today just brought it all back,” Dora concluded, the tears
which had been threatening all evening finally breaking free and rolling down
her cheeks.
Hermione bit her lip, wringing her hands. Harry put his arms around her
comfortingly, but sensing there was a bit more to the story, his curiosity got
the better of him.
“Er... if... if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your girlfriend?”
asked Harry a bit awkwardly. “I mean... obviously you’re not still together.”
“She... she was never the same after that,” Dora replied. “She sorta withdrew
into ‘erself. I wanted to stay together... to look after her. But she pulled
away, an’ I haven’t heard from her in a good long while.”
“I am so sorry Chérie...” Fleur pulled Dora closer into a warm embrace and
kissed her forehead. “Zat you should ‘ave to relive such a tragique experience
c’est horrible.”
“It’s alright now,” Dora sniffled, dabbing her nose with a hanky. “I’ll be
okay... really! I think I just needed to get that outta my system. I’ve been
holdin’ that in for a long time...”
                                     ~o0o~
Dora sighed happily as she woke, feeling a lot better than she had yesterday
evening, especially snuggled in Fleur’s embrace. In fact, Dora felt a lot
lighter than she had in quite some time. As Dora stirred in her arms, Fleur’s
eyelashes fluttered open.
“Bonjour Dora.” Fleur smiled when Dora turned around, looking much more
cheerful.
One of the things that Fleur liked most about Dora was her generally spirited
nature and sense of fun. Seeing Dora so despondent the night before had been
disconcerting to say the least.
“Mornin’ Fleur,” Dora grinned and planted a wet kiss on Fleur’s lips. “Up for
some breakfast yet?”
“Oui, mon amour... Zat sounds très bien.”
On the way to the Great Hall Dora and Fleur waved at Luna and Ginny, who were
heading towards the front doors with Jennifer in tow and platefuls of breakfast
in their hands. The Potters looked up from the Mingling Table where they were
already digging into their own breakfasts.
Hermione beamed and Harry washed down his mouthful of banger with some tea,
grinning at Dora when she took a seat, both of them pleased to see her looking
more cheered. Just as Fleur sat beside Dora, Hedwig swooped into the Great Hall
and settled on Hermione’s shoulder.
“Good Morning Hedwig,” said Hermione.
She buttered a crumpet for the snowy owl who had dropped the two newspapers on
the table beside her. Hedwig fondly nibbled Hermione’s ear before flying off
with the crumpet in her beak.
“So, what’s the good news today?” asked Harry, his voice containing more than a
hint of sarcasm.
Hermione peered at the headlines and sighed. “Nothing we didn’t expect Harry -
take a look for yourself.”
Harry shook his head and grimaced. Both papers featured the Gateshead Inferi
attacks on the front page, but the Daily Prophet’s top story had a lurid
headline indicating that the Minister had found someone just as “creative” as
Rita Skeeter had been to replace her.
                            The Potter Conspiracy:
                 Wizengamot Compromised, Imperius or Bribery?
Dora poured herself a cup of tea while she waited for Harry to hold up the
paper for all to see. She took one look and nearly spat the first sip out when
she read the headline.
“What a bloody load of rubbish...” Dora snorted, rolling her eyes.
Fleur glanced at the Headlines and scowled. “Eet ees too early for zis nonsense
today... Per’aps some coffee first.”
“I’m glad you don’t have to work at the Ministry anymore.” Harry grinned at
Dora as he picked up the Quibbler. His brows furrowed in thought when he saw
the Quibbler’s headline.
                       Inferi Attack at Metrocentre Mall
               Two Wizengamot Members Discovered among the Dead
“That’s odd! Does that seem strange to you Hermione?” Harry asked after
skimming the article.
“Yes it does Harry. According to this article, the two members who were
allegedly killed by Inferi are Henry Wensleydale and Marmaduke Ventosus Dithers
- two of the “wobblies” in the middle who supported us during the trial.”
“Mr Lovegood’s reporter seems to think it’s odd too,” Harry remarked.
“You’re right Harry,” Hermione nodded as she continued reading. “It says here
that, ‘...though they both live in the Gateshead area, neither one of them have
been known to frequent muggle shopping centres. Despite claims by Ministry
officials, Aurors interviewed on site declared that no wizard bodies had been
discovered, suggesting that neither Wizengamot member was at the scene.’”
A voice distracted the four at the Mingling Table and they all looked up to see
who had finally arrived for breakfast.
“Hi Neville,” said Harry.
“Morning Harry,” said Neville, smiling at everyone. “Glad you’re all back.
It’ll be nice to have a bit more company.”
As Neville took a seat, Harry glanced at the staff-table, where Dumbledore and
the professors appeared to be shaking their heads and groaning as they read
their own copies of the papers. At one end of the staff-table, Harry spied
Karkaroff and Viktor sitting next to him eating porridge.
At the other end Harry spotted a portly wizard wearing a maroon velvet jacket
and sporting a walrus moustache chatting to Hagrid.
“I wonder who that is?” Harry muttered in puzzlement. Hermione shook her head,
equally mystified.
“No idea...” said Neville, looking surprised. “I haven’t seen him before
today.”
“He looks vaguely familiar,” Dora frowned pensively. “But I can’t recall where
I might’ve seen ‘im before.”
Fleur shook her head. “I have nevair seen him eizzer, ‘Arry.”
“I suppose we’ll meet him soon enough,” Hermione responded after a moment of
contemplation. “I expect he’s just a member of the Order that we haven’t met
yet.”
“Yeah... that seems likely...” Harry nodded in agreement, before glancing down
at the other end of the table again. “Viktor looks a bit down at the mouth
today.”
“He is...” Neville sighed wistfully, thinking about Hannah. “He’s missing
Lavender. He was hoping she might come to Hogwarts for the summer too, but her
parents wouldn’t let her...”
“Maybe we should try and cheer Viktor up a bit later on today and do a bit of
flying with him,” said Hermione.
“We?” Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned at Hermione. She blushed and poked
Harry in the ribs, sticking her tongue out at him.
“I meant you and the others, Harry, not me... I’ll be watching from the stands
where I know I’ll be safe.”
“Oh come on Hermione. Why not give it a go?” Harry said eagerly. “You can ride
on my broom with me... I’ve been dying to take you up - there was just too much
going on this year, but there’s loads of time now that it’s summer...”
“I... I really don’t think so Harry,” Hermione squeaked anxiously, seeing the
gleam in his eyes.
“It’s really not so bad Hermione,” said Neville. “Since Viktor’s been helping
me, I’m actually starting to enjoy flying...”
“Anyway, I’ll do all the work Hermione - all you have to do is hold on
tight...” Harry gave Hermione his best puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t you remember how
fun the ride on Buckbeak was? It’ll be a much smoother ride on the broom.”
When Hermione bit her lip, Dora could see her beginning to waver. Grinning,
Dora reckoned that Hermione just needed a few more words of encouragement.
“Go on Hermione,” she said. “You’ll be perfectly safe with Harry. You know you
will...”
“Fine... alright then,” Hermione grumbled, finally relenting.
“Right, sounds like a plan then Hermione. You won’t regret it!” Harry concurred
happily while the others giggled. “Later on it is then.” Harry paused and
looked serious, peering at everyone, especially Neville.
“I... I’ve been thinking,” Harry continued, “I want us to keep training to
fight - Neville, you and Ginny and Luna ought to join us as well. And... and I
think everyone should learn how to perform the patronus charm...”
“That’s an excellent idea Harry!” Hermione’s eyes shone. “Everyone needs to
begin preparing for whatever Voldemort or the Minister throws at us now.”
“I agree,” Dora gazed at Harry proudly. “That’s an outstandin’ idea Harry. I
can help with the advanced combat magic and the hand to hand - but we’ll follow
your lead, alright?”
“Oh... er... what?” Harry gulped, suddenly nervous as they all peered at him
eagerly. “Er... I...erm... I didn’t mean that I should be in charge - I just
meant... Look, I don’t know enough magic yet...”
“That doesn’t matter Harry,” Dora retorted. “I can show you lot some things you
may not ‘ave learned yet, but you, Harry - you’re a natural born leader. You’ve
got all the right instincts - look ‘ow you took charge over the Third Task...”
“But... but I... I didn’t really do anything other than convince everyone to
work together...” Harry interrupted, perplexed. “I fought as hard as I could,
but it wasn’t enough. Fleur and Viktor and Cedric all got hurt - we could’ve
all died...”
“But we did not - thanks to you ‘Arry...” said Fleur softly. “Eet ees because
of you that we all lived. You brought us all togezzer - to fight as one. And do
not forget ze Second Task - eet is only because of you that ze Grindylows did
not overcome me...
“You are too humble ‘Arry - did I not follow you into battle wiz ze Nereid? ...
And when you told me to leave with Gabrielle and Cho Chang, I did what you told
me to do, even though I wanted to stay and fight. Eet ees you ‘Arry who really
saved everyone in ze Second Task...”
“That’s the absolute truth,” Hermione said forcefully, glowering at Harry when
he tried to interrupt Fleur. “Harry also knew exactly what to say to convince
the Merpeople to let us go when they trapped us, and to stop them from fighting
among themselves. He was BRILLIANT!” Hermione glared at Harry, daring him to
contradict her.
Harry swallowed again, trying to think of something else to say.
“But you helped me loads Hermione,” Harry said in a small voice. “I would’ve
never survived the Triwiz without you.”
Hermione’s features softened as she melted in Harry’s glistening gaze. She
leaned in and kissed him.
“I’ll always be there for you Harry, because I love you. And I love you because
you always step up to try and protect everyone without even thinking about it,
no matter who it is, no matter what the odds - without even stopping to think
about yourself. You always put others first - and that’s why we’ll follow
you... wherever you lead us.”
Harry gulped yet again and sighed. Everyone seemed to be in complete agreement.
How could he say no?
He had one final go at it.
“But what if I’m ever wrong?” Harry asked quietly.
“Nobody’s perfect Harry,” Hermione answered. “But we know you’ll always try to
do the right thing, and... and I’ll always be there to help you find the right
path Harry,” Hermione concluded.
“Alright then,” said Harry nodding. “If that’s what you really want...”
                                     ~o0o~
Hermione spent some time trying to teach Harry enough intermediate algebra so
that he could start working on his Arithmancy summer assignment. Fleur was
helping Ginny work on her summer homework and Luna was reading a book about
Mind Healing. Dora leaned back in one of the library’s comfy chairs drawing
some pencil sketches.
“Why don’t you take a break Harry! Do some runework, or maybe just some light
reading for fun,” said Hermione, sensing his frustration.
“We can pick this up again tomorrow - there’s plenty of time. I think you’re
really starting to get the hang of it Harry,” she concluded encouragingly.
“Thanks Hermione,” Harry sighed in relief, “My brain feels like it’s going to
explode. I just don’t get quadratic equations. How can an equation have more
than one correct answer?”
“Maybe you should go and fly a bit right now Harry,” Luna suggested. “It says
in this Mind Healing book that sometimes it’s best to move on to a physical
activity when you’re stumped about something.
“I’m surprised really. I thought there would be more magic spells involved...
or potions. But it seems that a lot of Mind Healing doesn’t involve any magic
at all - not directly anyway.”
Soon Harry had Hermione down on the quidditch pitch peering at his Firebolt
dubiously.
“Are you sure about this Harry?” Hermione moaned.
“You can’t back out now Hermione,” Harry grinned. “There’s plenty of room. Just
hold onto me tight and think about whatever you think about when you cast your
Patronus.”
Hermione nervously straddled the broom behind Harry, wrapping her arms around
his middle. She let out a little squeak of fright as Harry lifted off and
soared into the air. Moments later he was gleefully swooping around the
quidditch pitch, Hermione clinging to him with a death-grip, her bushy hair
whipping in the wind. She opened her eyes briefly, shrieked, and shut them
again.
Viktor grinned as he flew by the Potters on his own broom. Ginny, Luna and
Neville zipped around behind them, trying to keep up. Viktor was delighted to
have Harry back. Flying with friends was more distracting than flying alone.
As Hermione continued to clutch Harry around his waist, she slowly started to
relax. It felt good to be holding Harry so closely, and she began to notice
other surprising sensations. She was wearing a skirt, and with only her
knickers between her sex and the broom, a warm tingle of arousal coursed
through Hermione’s body as the vibrations tickled her most sensitive parts.
Hermione’s knickers began to dampen as the broom pressed the fabric even deeper
between the apex of her thighs. A sudden surge of bliss came over her as Harry
soared higher and higher and she bit her lip, unable to avoid letting out a
little moan of pleasure.
She finally opened her eyes properly, for the first time since the ride on the
hippogriff enjoying the sensation of the wind rushing by. Harry banked hard,
and Hermione gasped when the broom shuddered as the vibrations increased in
intensity.
Sensing Hermione’s confidence growing, Harry decided it was time to be a bit
more adventurous. Harry dove and flew low above the treetops heading towards
the Black Lake, leaving the others behind. When Harry buzzed the surface of the
lake and the fine mist of water stung her face, Hermione lost herself,
squeaking happily and hanging onto Harry for all she was worth.
Hermione’s spasms rocked Harry and he grinned. He was already more than a bit
stiff having Hermione pressed against his backside so tightly, and his erection
became even longer and harder as her orgasm surged through his own body. His
breath quickened; his pulse raced. Harry needed Hermione now and he dove into
the woods.
As soon as they touched down Harry dropped his Firebolt and he and Hermione
tumbled giddily into the ferns and underbrush in a clearing surrounded by oaks,
startling several squirrels who were arguing over a pile of acorns. The
agitated squirrels scampered quickly up into the branches.
Hermione gasped as her climax was followed by another one. Harry was so hot
that he didn’t care that they were outside, in the middle of the Forbidden
Forest, possibly to be discovered by Hagrid or the centaurs should they stumble
across them.
Hermione heatedly tugged off her drenched knickers and tossed them into the
bushes, glad now that she wasn’t wearing jeans. She unbuckled Harry’s belt and
unzipped his shorts as they rolled in the leaves, both of them panting heavily.
Harry grinned as he pushed up Hermione’s skirt and she parted her legs. Harry
couldn’t resist, and dove in face-first plunging his tongue into her dripping
crevice. Harry’s tongue snaked into Hermione’s fold. He licked and nibbled
Hermione’s pulsating pearl until she squealed, her back arching as another
surge of ecstasy rippled through her.
Hermione writhed ecstatically and drew Harry up for an impassioned kiss,
clasping her legs around his backside. Needing no further invitation, Harry
feverishly slid his length into Hermione’s warm sheath. Harry drove his
hardness into Hermione’s depths again and again as she continued squeaking
blissfully.
Hermione’s multiple climaxes cascaded into a crescendo, and the contractions of
her sheath around Harry’s throbbing lance were finally too much. Harry exploded
as the cyclone of ardour took him, releasing a flood of his essence into her
chalice. Sparks of magic flew and the ground quaked.
A flock of blue-tits took flight, chirping and twittering above the trees, and
the squirrels clung to the branches until the oaks eventually stopped shaking.
Harry slumped on top of Hermione, gasping, and they both finally succumbed to
oblivion.
When Harry came to, he felt the delightful sensation of Hermione’s tongue
cleaning off his stiffening again erection. He grinned as Hermione licked and
sucked, amazed that she still had any energy left - and that he did too.
Hermione stopped licking for a moment and grinned back at Harry. Sensing his
puzzlement she answered his unasked question.
“I’m not really certain Harry. I... I think I just got a real thrill from
riding on your broom with you. I suppose being scared of heights just added a
bit to the excitement of holding you - and feeling safe with you as the wind
rushed by - and feeling the broomstick vibrating in just the right spots...
and... and...”
“Oh bother it - I’m over-thinking again...” Hermione shut-up and went back to
work on Harry’s erection while the squirrels watched, chittering in agitation.
Harry reached out both hands and stroked Hermione’s bushy hair as she knelt
between his thighs, her lips encircling the base of his shaft. Despite having
recently concluded a quite robust sexual encounter, it didn’t take long for
Harry to feel the surges of euphoria take him again.
Harry gasped, hands tangled in Hermione’s tawny tresses and jerking his loins
as he released himself. Hermione’s naked bottom jutted out from the skirt
gathered around her waist as she hungrily gulped Harry’s seed.
A thundering of hooves broke the moment.
Hermione shrieked, and the last spurts of Harry’s ejaculate spattered against
her rosy cheeks. She propelled herself into Harry’s arms and shivered. Harry’s
eyes bulged and his gasps of pleasure caught. He held his breath and stared in
trepidation at the centaur who had entered the clearing.
Harry gulped anxiously and held his trembling Hermione tightly. It was the last
centaur in the world that he had ever wanted to see again.
Bane loomed over the pair darkly, his face displaying consternation and
bewilderment. Hermione flushed and with shaking hands she pushed her skirt
between her quivering thighs to cover herself.
The centaur with wild black hair didn’t seem to know what to make of the
situation. He had angrily entered the clearing with an arrow strung in his bow,
prepared to unleash it into whomever had disturbed the forest - full grown
wizard or student, he didn’t care. Firenze or Ronan weren’t around to restrain
him today.
Bane’s rage battled his confusion as he peered at the two young wizards. Bane’s
nostrils flared and he pawed the ground with his hooves. He had witnessed the
last moment of the pair’s coupling, and the air was heavy with their scent.
The atmosphere of the glade near the lakeshore seemed to be quite different
from what he had expected. Bane’s skin prickled as he sensed the presence of
magic surrounding him. But this was unlike the magic he usually sensed when
wizards were near, which more often than not felt like a threat of violence.
This felt more like Spring - like life itself. Bane glanced in wonder at the
green shoots of new growth and the blooming wild-flowers poking up through the
leaves and underbrush on the forest floor. They hadn’t been there when he had
passed through the clearing earlier that morning.
The centaur stared at Harry and Hermione once more. The pounding of the boy’s
heart caught Bane’s ears as the boy protectively clutched the girl. Bane
swished his black horse tail and began to calm, unstringing the arrow from his
bow.
“You are a very unusual wizard Harry Potter... most unusual indeed.”
Harry let out his breath heavily, relief filling him as the fierceness departed
the centaur’s countenance.
“You and your beloved are welcome in this forest at any time Harry Potter. My
apologies for disturbing you...” Bane swallowed and a brief look of sorrow
crossed his features.
“It is my sincerest hope that our interpretation of the Movement of the Heavens
is wrong - the world could use more wizards such as yourself. May fortune shine
upon you... young wizard.”
                                     ~o0o~
“Bloody Hell Hermione - that was scary! I thought we were done for... Bane
always hated me! I don’t understand... What just happened?”
Hermione stopped walking and turned to face Harry, biting her lip pensively,
gazing at him with her big brown eyes.
“I think that perhaps he might have seen you for who you really are Harry,” she
replied, her own features filled with perplex as she tried to make sense of
things.
“I was terrified when he found us - Bane was filled with such a hate for
wizards. But... but then he saw you with me... trying to protect me...”
Hermione paused. She smiled and gave Harry a kiss.
“And I... I’m still not entirely certain why, but I think... I think suddenly,
in that moment, Bane finally realised that you’re different from most wizards -
like the Dragon and the Unicorn did.”
“You made a new friend today Harry,” Hermione concluded.
Harry blinked, then a smile crept to his lips and he shook his head in
amazement. He leaned in and tenderly returned Hermione’s kiss before continuing
the trek back up to the castle, his broom in one hand and Hermione’s hand in
the other.
“Well... who would’ve guessed?” Harry said with a laugh after a few steps. “All
I had to do to make friends with the centaurs was put on a sex-show for them
with you.”
“Prat!” Hermione giggled, swatting Harry playfully with her free hand.
As they drew closer to the massive doors of the Main Entrance, Harry and
Hermione were spotted by the Headmaster and the man with a walrus moustache.
They appeared to be exiting the castle to take a stroll around the grounds.
Hermione eeped, and blushed, quickly rubbing at the dirty sticky streaks on her
face with her hanky. She had forgotten the state of her appearance after the
commotion with the centaur, having just wanted to leave the clearing as quickly
as possible. Hermione groaned, realising that she had also forgotten her
knickers and left them dangling from the branches of a bush. Hermione tugged at
Harry’s sleeve and he stopped.
Harry tried very hard not to grin as Hermione hid behind him and performed a
quick spell to clean and dry the sticky damp spots on her skirt. There was
nothing she could do immediately about her knickers though, and she hadn't the
time to perform another spell to vanish the viscous fluid still leaking out and
trickling down her inner thighs.
“Ah there you are,” the headmaster said warmly as he and the man with the
moustache approached. “Horace, I’d like you to meet Mr and Mrs Potter...”
Hermione turned crimson and bit her lips, keeping her thighs together and
crossing her hands in front of her skirt. For his part, Harry did an excellent
job of maintaining a straight face, and he immediately stuck his hand out to
draw attention to himself.
“Er... Hello...” Harry began.
“Harry,” the Headmaster continued, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight, “this is
Horace Slughorn. He was once one of Hogwarts finest Potions professors, not to
mention being an exceptional Alchemist...”
“Albus, please, you are too kind...” Horace interjected with an air of humility
- though Harry could tell that Slughorn was quite chuffed at the heaped praise.
“...and former Head of Slytherin House,” Dumbledore said as Slughorn took
Harry’s hand and shook it.
“Delighted to meet you Mr Potter... simply delighted,” Horace gushed
effusively.
“Er... nice to meet you too sir,” Harry said with a polite smile.
“I have been following your career with quite some interest I must say,” said
Horace, “and Severus has told me all about you and your wife’s exceptional
talents with potions.”
Slughorn turned to Hermione and held out his chubby hand. “And I couldn’t be
more pleased to make your acquaintance as well Mrs Potter!”
Blushing furiously, Hermione carefully kept one hand on her skirt and shyly
reached out the other to take Slughorn’s and shake it.
“Er... Likewise Professor Slughorn,” Hermione squeaked, blushing and cringing
at the sound of her own voice.
“Well, I haven’t been ‘professor’ in many, many years my dear...” Slughorn
beamed at Hermione. “But thanks to Albus’s persistence, it appears that I shall
be once more. I do so hope that you both elect to take my Alchemy course when
the Autumn term begins. It would be simply splendid to teach two such fine
young pupils as yourselves... simply marvelous.
“I thought being given the opportunity to teach you Mr Potter was reward enough
I must say... I taught your mother... Lily was one of my favourite students -
the brightest witch I have ever known - and certainly one of the kindest. And I
am delighted to have the opportunity to teach your wife as well. I am told by
everyone that Mrs Potter is another in Lily’s mould...”
“And there I thought it was the protections that Hogwarts had to offer which
had enticed you Horace,” Dumbledore teased.
“Yes... quite,” chuckled Slughorn. “I still don’t know how you managed to sway
Karkaroff to join forces with you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the Potters
here had something to do with it.”
“Indeed...” Dumbledore peered at Harry and Hermione, keenly observing their
pink faces, and disheveled appearance.
Harry gulped awkwardly and glanced at Hermione.
“Well Horace,” said Dumbledore sprightly, taking Slughorn’s arm, “I think we
have taken up quite enough of the Potters’ time for now. You shall have plenty
of time to get to know them better after all.”
“Oh... er, indeed. Quite so!” Horace said, looking a bit disappointed, “Bye for
now then...”
Dumbledore gave the Potters a wink and Harry nodded gratefully, breathing a
sigh of relief.
                                     ~o0o~
“Slughorn seemed quite nice actually,” Harry said cheerfully, washing
Hermione’s back as the steam rose in the hot shower . “I’m not sure if he was
happier to meet me or you really...”
Hermione turned around and gave Harry a soapy kiss.
“What was that for?” asked Harry.
“For trying to protect me as usual,” Hermione grinned and kissed him again
under the spray of water. “Thanks for at least trying to keep his attention off
me Harry. That was mortifying... I thought a breeze might blow up my skirt at
any moment.”
“Er... you’re welcome Hermione! But if you keep kissing me in the shower we’ll
never make it out in time for lunch,” Harry retorted with a smirk.
“Especially if you do that...” Harry groaned as Hermione pressed her wet soapy
body up against his for yet another kiss and he began to stiffen again.
                                     ~o0o~
Ginny and Luna raised their eyebrows knowingly and smirked when they spied
Harry and Hermione entering the Great Hall at Teatime. Fleur and Dora, who had
both been off doing their own thing, picked up on the unspoken signals. Viktor
gave Harry a lopsided smile, but Neville looked very puzzled.
“Where’d you go this afternoon Harry,” Neville asked. “The last we saw you, you
and Hermione were flying over the Black Lake...”
“They took a little detour to snog for a bit Neville,” said Ginny bluntly,
rolling her eyes as if it should have been perfectly obvious. The others tried
their hardest not to laugh and embarrass Neville further.
Neville turned pink, smiling bashfully. “Oh... er... sorry. I didn’t mean to be
nosy...”
“No problem Neville...” said Harry, grinning.
Before they sat down to Tea, Luna took the Potters aside. “You should join me
in the visitor’s lounge and have Tea with me and Jennifer. I think she’s up to
chatting a bit today.”
“Are you coming too, Ginny?” asked Hermione.
“You should just go with Luna. I’ll stay here with this lot,” Ginny replied. “I
doubt Jennifer will want to talk in front of too many people.”
Hermione nodded in agreement with Ginny’s sensible reasoning. She followed Luna
to the visitor’s lounge with Harry at her side. The conversation began casually
enough as they all chatted about innocuous things with Jennifer.
“Have you tried butterbeer yet?” asked Hermione. “It’s not as funny tasting as
it sounds... It’s a bit like butterscotch, and it only has a teensy bit of
alcohol in it.”
“Oh... er... yeah. I had some the other day with Ginny and Luna.” said
Jennifer. “It was nice...” Jennifer paused and frowned pensively, as if trying
to make a decision. It appeared that she had reached a conclusion when she took
a deep breath and began to talk again.
“I... er... I’m sorry about your Uncle, Harry. Luna told me a bit about him and
showed me her father’s article...” Jennifer paused again.
“I... I don’t know how you managed to l...live with that all those years...”
she trailed off, her voice quavering, and bit her lip, not quite managing to
say what she was thinking. Jennifer couldn’t imagine having to endure the
torment of being Ratface’s plaything for years on end.
Harry couldn’t really think how to respond.
“Er... yeah... erm... it was pretty horrible actually,” he finally mustered. “I
dunno how I managed it either really...”
Harry cast his eyes down, and caught a sketchbook sitting on the mahogany
coffee table. He suddenly realised that he was staring at an amazingly lifelike
pencil-drawing. His face darkened when he saw who it was.
“Did... did you draw that?” he asked, more or less rhetorically. It was obvious
that she had and Harry immediately regretted asking the question.
Jennifer cringed. She had forgotten that she had left her sketchbook on the
table.
“Y...yes,” Jennifer stammered. “I.... I... I c...can’t get his face out of my
head.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry...” Harry swallowed and tried his utmost to steady himself. “I
didn’t mean to...”
“N...no, it’s alright!” Jennifer murmured. “I... I was g...going to get around
to it anyway. I w...was hoping you’d t...tell me a bit about him.”
“Wormtail!” Harry muttered through gritted teeth. “His real name is Peter
Pettigrew - he’s the one who sold out my parents to Voldemort. He’s the main
reason they’re dead. He was their friend... and he betrayed them. They’d
probably still be alive if it weren’t for him...”
“H...he r...raped me...” Jennifer blurted out, sobbing. “...loads of times.”
Despite having surmised as much - based on Harry’s vision - Hermione couldn’t
help gasping in horror. Harry’s blood began to boil-over as an inferno raged in
his gut and spread to his extremities; he had done his best to forget the image
he’d seen through Voldemort’s eyes, but couldn’t any longer.
Jennifer had shocked herself with the statement. This was the first time she
had been able to say it out loud - the first time she had told anyone - the
first time that she had been able to clearly articulate it in her mind.
Luna curled her arm around Jennifer. Luna had suspected it all along, and she
was relieved that Jennifer had finally been able to talk about what had
happened to her.
Harry’s head started spinning. He couldn’t tell where Jennifer’s pain ended and
his began; he just felt it all swirling together in the firestorm within. The
walls began to close in - Harry couldn’t breathe properly - he felt like he was
going to explode.
Unable to speak, Harry wasn’t sure that he could contain himself and not
wanting to frighten Jennifer, he leapt up and stalked out of the visitor’s
lounge.
“I’m sorry...” Jennifer wailed, “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have left my
sketchbook out...”
“It’s not your fault Jennifer...” Hermione cried out, “Please! You have to
understand, Harry’s not angry at you. He’s angry at Wormtail... Luna tell her -
Harry’s angry at Wormtail...” Hermione jumped out of her own seat. “Look after
Jennifer, Luna... I’ve got to look after Harry - stop him before he hurts
himself...”
Hermione fled the visitor’s lounge and looked around wildly for Harry.
Thankfully, Harry hadn’t lost his common sense. He was on the marble staircase,
headed for the Seventh Floor, looking for somewhere safe to release his rage.
Hermione took off up the stairs after him, but they were already moving.
Hermione ran up the stairs as fast as she could and managed to leap from the
staircase to the landing on the next floor. Hermione had to do that for every
staircase as she followed Harry. She almost caught up to him.
Too out of breath to yell at Harry to stop, Hermione raced down the corridor
and barely managed to catch the door to the Room of Requirement before it
clicked shut. Hermione ducked and screamed when debris from an enormous
exploding statue of Wormtail rained down upon her.
“Hermione...”
Harry’s voice cut through the ringing in her ears. “Hermione... I’m so sorry -
I didn’t see you...”
Hermione blinked and the stunning effects of the blast began to fade, but there
was still a haze of smoke and dust.
“Hermione - are you alright? Say something... please...”
Hermione could see the anxiety etched on his face. He was on his knees beside
her, cradling her in his arms.
“I... I’ll be fine... Harry,” Hermione managed to gasp. “Really - I’m fine,
just a bit dazed. But what about you?”
Relief flooded Harry’s features, but the guilt never left his eyes. Hermione
glanced around the steel reinforced room at the concrete statues of Voldemort,
Wormtail, and the Minister. Harry had apparently conjured this room
specifically to use blasting curses on his enemies.
Hermione threw her arms around him as she clambered to her feet.
“I’m alright... I swear Harry!” she said firmly.
“Okay... okay.... That’s good then,” Harry gasped. “What about Jennifer? I... I
didn’t mean to upset her. But I had to get out of there before I lost it
completely.”
“I think she’ll be alright Harry. Luna’s with her...” Hermione replied, “And...
and to tell you the truth, I think Jennifer needed the release too. I don’t
think she’d been able to really face what happened to her until you... until
you shared your feelings about Wormtail with her.”
Hermione continued embracing Harry and he felt the last embers of his fury
washing away as he caught her familiar minty aroma.
“Crap,” Harry sighed. “I bet Jennifer feels bad about upsetting me now - even
though it wasn’t her fault at all.”
Hermione led a much calmer Harry back downstairs to the visitor’s lounge where
Luna had finally settled Jennifer. Harry and Jennifer shared wan little smiles.
Jennifer brushed her long black hair out of her face, wiping away the remnants
of her tears.
“I’m sorry Jennifer...” Harry began.
“No, it’s alright,” Jennifer interjected, “I get it - I know you weren’t cross
with me. I... I want to thank you actually. You’re the first person I’ve really
been able to talk to about it - and... and this is the first I’ve not f...felt
ashamed about what he did to me.”
Harry nodded uncomfortably. He’d often felt ashamed about admitting what Uncle
Vernon had done to him - which was more or less why he didn’t like talking
about it.
“Er... I... I don’t know if it’ll be the same for you, but... but sometimes
those feelings might come back a bit,” Harry admitted ruefully. “But... but
eventually you learn to live with it...”
Harry’s face hardened slightly, and a spark lit in his eyes again.
“And... and I want you to know... If I ever come across Wormtail, I’m going to
kill him.”
Jennifer picked up her sketchbook and smiled at Harry and Hermione, feeling her
heart catch in her throat.
Jennifer swallowed, “I... I think I need to be by myself for a bit. But thank
you again for talking to me - I mean it.”
“Will you come and have dinner at the table with us tonight?” Luna asked
hopefully, her eyes full of concern.
“I... I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet,” said Jennifer. “But I
promise, I’ll be alright. I’ll see you later then...” She glanced back at Harry
and Hermione, who both looked sorry to see her going, “Thanks again Harry.”
Jennifer hurried out of the visitor’s lounge, letting her hair fall in her face
before anyone could see the tears running down her cheeks again. She didn’t
know what she’d done to deserve finding such nice people who really seemed to
care so much for a girl they had barely met.
“Will she really be alright?” Harry asked after Jennifer had left the room,
wondering if he’d said the wrong thing. “She looked like she was about to cry
again.”
Luna nodded, smiling sweetly, but Harry wasn’t convinced. He was sure that
somehow he’d put his foot in it once more. Hermione put her arms around Harry
and hugged him tightly.
“It’s okay Harry, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Hermione said. “It’s just
going to take Jennifer some time to get used to having friends again.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. That, he understood. But he was still feeling
badly about what had happened in the Room of Requirement.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Harry peered into Hermione’s eyes, looking for
signs of pain or concussion.
“I’m fine Harry - really...” Hermione pulled Harry closer and kissed him
passionately to prove it. “You need some cheering up - I think this evening
after dinner we should have some fun in the Room of Requirement... if you’re up
to it after our fun in the forest today...”
“Er... really?” Harry looked surprised. “You sure about that? I mean, you’re
not too upset?”
Hermione shook her head and smiled.
That evening after dinner, Harry and Hermione returned to the Room of
Requirement, both of them grinning. And this time they were prepared with
towels, clean nightclothes, and slippers to put on after, not having to worry
about being caught out by anyone.
                                     ~o0o~
“Blimey, wha’ the ruddy hell was tha’ ? There it is again. Wha’s goin’ on
then?” gasped Hagrid when the castle shook and the lamps flickered for the
third time.
Albus Dumbledore swirled the contents of his brandy snifter and chuckled, his
eyes twinkling. He noted with satisfaction, that the magical lanterns and
candles which lit the castle only flickered, and didn’t go out completely,
settling at a brighter wattage after each tremor.
“Oh, nothing to worry yourself about Rubeus,” Dumbledore replied. “Hogwarts is
merely adjusting to some ongoing upgrades...”
Minerva McGonagall nearly snorted her cocktail out of her nose, and had a
coughing fit. Poppy Pomfrey rolled her eyes.
“There, there dear...” said Poppy, patting Minerva on the back.
Filius Flitwick exchanged a bewildered look with Pomona Sprout, who just
shrugged in response.
Severus Snape might have been puzzled too, but he was spending the night at
Narcissa Black’s manor.
***** Chapter 45: The Summer of Love and Discontent *****
Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour frowned in perplex, wondering at the Minister’s
request for a meeting as he knocked on the open door of her office. Surely his
assistant could have brought the files she needed. Minister Umbridge looked up
from her desk and beamed.
“Ah, Rufus, splendid. Do come in won’t you.”
“Of course Madam Minister - I have the files you require. How else may I be of
service this morning?”
“Some very disturbing information has come to my attention, and I would like
you to look into it at once...” The Minister handed the Head Auror several
files as she took the ones that he had brought her. “It would appear to
indicate that the Daily Prophet’s recent inquiry regarding corruption in the
Wizengamot was remarkably prescient...
“If you would please peruse these, I believe you will find enough actionable
evidence to follow through and make an arrest.”
Scrimgeour raised his bushy eyebrows at the heading on one of the documents. He
regarded the Minister shrewdly for a moment, then flicked through the files.
“Pembroke Chamberlain?” Scrimgeour pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in
consternation. “Are you certain of this information Minister? He is highly
regarded by many, despite being somewhat... indecisive.”
“Oh, most certain indeed Rufus,” the Minister replied, her voice dripping with
honey. “After the Prophet’s article, I put the Unspeakable Office on the case,
as it required a sensitive undercover operation. And indeed the investigation
yielded these startling details of Mr Chamberlain’s dangerous associations.”
Scrimgeour considered that for a moment. It wasn’t uncommon for the Unspeakable
Office to conduct undercover investigations. But the case file still struck
Rufus as odd.
“His past associations with Voldemort were determined to have been due to the
Imperius curse Madam Minister...”
“Oh, no Rufus...” the Minister interjected, “it is Mr Chamberlain’s current
associations with which we are most concerned. The man has been consorting with
criminals who are known to have connections to Albus Dumbledore - Mundungus
Fletcher is quite an unsavory character, I can assure you.”
“Yes! I am well aware of Mr Fletcher’s record...” The Head Auror nodded. “But
most of his criminal activities in the past have been rather petty. These new
accusations, if true, are quite disturbing. Trafficking in enslaved muggles is
a serious offence - I shall conduct an investigation into Chamberlain and
Fletcher immediately to confirm the Unspeakable Office report.”
“Thank you Rufus! I knew I could count on you.” Minister Umbridge smiled
appreciatively. She watched the Head Auror depart in satisfaction, knowing that
he would find plenty of evidence to arrest and convict Pembroke Chamberlain -
thus stripping him of his seat on the Wizengamot. Rookwood had made certain
that there would be lots of evidence to find.
The Minister peered in her own copies of the files and scribbled a note,
pleased at how swimmingly her Senior Undersecretary was acclimating to his
role. He had been slightly reticent to support the Unspeakable Office’s
involvement at first, but Percy Weasley had quickly seen the political value of
framing a Potter Appeaser like Chamberlain and a criminal associate of
Dumbledore such as Mundungus Fletcher.
Dolores could scratch yet another Undesirable from her list of the “wobblies”
who had supported the Potters during their trial.
Minister Umbridge opened the file which Scrimgeour had brought her regarding
more muggle disappearances. She sighed heavily, certain that Voldemort was
behind them. As much as Dolores eventually wanted Voldemort dead and gone, he
was far too useful alive for the time being - providing a distraction for
Dumbledore and his people. Not to mention that as long as wizards were afraid,
they would willingly accept her authoritative leadership.
A sinister smile played across Dolore’s features. Another plan began to form as
she perused the file of missing muggles. Yes indeed - this fit rather nicely
with her own plans. Now Dolores could also link the crimes of Voldemort with
the crimes for which she and Rookwood had framed Chamberlain and Fletcher.
                                     ~o0o~
The Dark Lord was perplexed by the article in the Daily Prophet. Did not the
imbeciles who ran the newspaper realise that He, Voldemort, was the one to be
most feared? Why on earth would they be hinting that the Old Fool who ran
Hogwarts was linked to the muggle disappearances?
“Wormtail, who is this... this miscreant - this associate of Dumbledore -
Mundungus Fletcher?”
“My Lord?”
“The muggle disappearances,” Lord Voldemort hissed, “They are being attributed
by and large to this Mr Fletcher. He is apparently engaged in selling enslaved
muggles to wizards of means, and the Prophet strongly implies that Dumbledore
may have operational knowledge of his activities.” Voldemort snorted in
derision at the ludicrous notion.
As if Dumbledore had it in him to harm a single hair on a muggle’s head - or
anyone else’s head for that matter. The Old Fool couldn’t even bring himself to
kill Gellert Grindelwald after defeating him, the most notorious and murderous
Dark Wizard in history prior to Lord Voldemort.
“To the best of my knowledge, Mundungus Fletcher is nothing but a petty thief
My Lord,” Wormtail replied in bewilderment. “Not even fit to be a Snatcher. He
was employed by the Order of the Phoenix during the last war merely as someone
with criminal contacts which could be exploited for information - he avoided
any of the actual conflicts between the Order and the Death Eaters...”
“Ah... so that is why I do not recollect him. In any case, it would appear that
he has moved up in the world to have drawn the attention of the Dark Witch,”
Voldemort mused aloud. “I do believe it is time to remind the Dark Witch and my
former supporters of whom it is that they truly need to fear. How many Inferi
do we have now?”
“Around four hundred so far my Lord!” Wormtail replied, “If we are to raise the
numbers you desire to take Hogwarts with, then we should conserve our
forces...”
“I concur Wormtail,” the Dark Lord nodded approvingly. “Two simultaneous
attacks would strike the right note - but not with the Inferi. I believe the
Snatchers and a few Werewolves should pay another visit to London - to Diagon
Alley...
“And another attack on a muggle location, this time by Snatchers with a few
giants to maximise the damage. Unleashing a regiment of Dementors would not go
amiss either... Make it happen Wormtail!”
Bellatrix had been listening to the exchange intently but feigning nonchalance
as she filed her fingernails. It occurred to her that more needed to be done -
it was not enough that Nott and his son were locked in the dungeon beneath the
castle. Lucius had escaped his rightful fate.
His cowardly betrayal of the Dark Lord was a personal affront. Bellatrix would
break out her whips just for Lucius and his son, then she would fillet them and
turn them into Inferi. But he was completely inaccessible for the time-being.
Lucius was likely laying low at the Minister’s home, and her home’s location
was utterly unknown. That was a shame. Bellatrix would have enjoyed breaking
Lucius - but perhaps she would get another opportunity.
Bellatrix considered some of the others who most deserved to die.
Not the Carrows - Bellatrix hoped to bring them back into the fold. She missed
her fun with Alecto. Bellatrix found herself growing misty at the idea of she
and Alecto torturing Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers together again - not to
mention that she would have a good excuse to wear her black leather.
Then Bellatrix remembered that some of the most Treacherous could likely be
found deep in the bowels of the Ministry itself and smiled.
“My Lord,” the Dark Consort said seductively, “I think we should see some of
the traitors dead - perhaps Rookwood or Yaxley - they both hold positions at
the Ministry. If I crucify them in a public manner - maybe then the Unfaithful
will beg to be spared from your righteous retribution.”
Nagini hissed as the Dark Lord absentmindedly stroked her head. He chuckled
coldly. Bellatrix was getting bored already. Killing muggles and turning them
into Inferi was clearly not enough to satisfy her bloodlust. She wanted some
real action.
“Indeed Bellatrix, a public execution would make quite a statement,” the Dark
Lord agreed. “Find Yaxley and Rookwood then, and string them up in the Atrium
of the Ministry - but take care not to be caught.”
“Thank you my Lord!” the Dark Consort purred. “Wormtail and I will begin to
plan the attacks at once.”
An evil smirk tugged at the corner of Wormtail’s lips. This could be the
opportunity to find himself another suitable plaything. Perhaps Wormtail would
enlist the aid of Lockhart for the muggle operation - Gilderoy seemed to share
his taste for the younger females.
                                     ~o0o~
As he buckled his belt and tucked in his shirt, Gilderoy Lockhart felt quite
pleased with himself. With satisfaction, he regarded the muggle girl asleep in
her bed, who was now none the wiser. Having been obliviated, she would never
recall her violation at his hands.
Gilderoy’s evening of rest and relaxation was well deserved. He had
successfully assisted in the capture of numerous muggles for the Dark Lord’s
army of Inferi by planting evidence on, and altering the memories of yet
another muggle. Muggle police would simply presume the man was a serial killer,
and Gilderoy had earned himself a Dark Mark, placing himself above the lowlife
who made up the ranks of the Snatchers.
Gilderoy was more elated than he had thought he would be in the Dark Lord’s
service. He felt more alive and much freer as the Dark Lord’s Servant than he
had while trying to maintain his image of purity in the House of Dumbledore.
                                     ~o0o~
Having just sat down for breakfast, Harry picked up the morning edition of the
Daily Prophet, wondering what sort of rubbish it had in store for him today.
The paper had been having a go at him and Dumbledore every other day it seemed.
He frowned at the headline then glanced at Hermione who had just started eating
her porridge.
“Hermione, isn’t Mundungus Fletcher that guy at the Order meeting? ... The one
that Mrs Weasley and Madam Bones didn’t like?”
“Oh, you mean the one who was smoking a pipe and chatting to Sirius?”
“Yeah... that’s the one,” said Harry, nodding. “He’s just been arrested for
trafficking in muggle slaves - him and one of the Wizengamot members in the
middle who supported us - Pembroke Chamberlain.”
“Bloody hell!” Dora swore. “That’s ridiculous! Dung would never... ‘e’s a bit
of a reprobate, but ‘e’s alright really...”
“What? Let me see that...” Hermione scanned the article quickly, her eyes
widening in shock. “It’s even worse than that - this is awful! The article is
implying that Dumbledore must have known what Mundungus and Pembroke
Chamberlain were up to...”
Everyone around the Mingling Table looked shocked.
“That’s bloody mad!” Harry gasped. “There’s no way...”
“It’s gotta be a frame-up,” said Dora, scowling. “I mean the muggle
disappearances - they’re all on Voldy obviously.”
“Yeah... yeah, of course,” said Harry, nodding. He glanced up at the staff-
table to see how the professors were reacting. McGonagall looked livid, but
Dumbledore’s features were as calm as ever.
“Per’aps ees best that we forget it for now,” sighed Fleur. “There is nothing
we can do at ze moment...”
“Fleur’s right,” said Luna. “Let the Order fuss about it. I’m sure Daddy will
be publishing something to counter it tomorrow... We should just try and
concentrate on studying and enjoying ourselves as much as possible while we
can.”
“You’re both right. There’s not much point in getting all worked up about it,”
said Hermione, chucking the paper aside.
“Morning!” said the cheery voice of someone who obviously hadn’t read the paper
yet.
Harry was surprised when the new witch with long ebony hair gave him a hug and
a peck on the cheek, before also giving the same to Hermione and taking a seat
opposite them at the Mingling Table. Hermione beamed, returning Jennifer’s
smile.
“Er... what was that for?” Harry asked, flushing slightly.
“That’s for making me feel better, and turning me into a witch,” Jennifer
giggled. “I still can’t really believe I have magic now. But I woke up this
morning and my wand still works - and I didn’t have a single nightmare last
night for the first time in months...”
After breakfast, Jennifer began lessons with the professors and Harry made his
breakthrough with quadratic equations. Finally he had the tools to complete his
Arithmancy summer assignment. Harry doggedly slaved away in the library with
Hermione’s patient assistance, determined to finish the rest of his homework
assignments quickly so he could focus on training.
Confident that the books were safe with only the Potters and their friends
currently at Hogwarts for the summer, Madam Pince had decided that she could
leave the library unattended during open hours and enjoy the holidays as much
as possible.
Hermione had already completed all of her assignments and sat on Harry’s lap as
he studied, providing equal parts Inspiration to work hard, and Distraction
when he needed to rest his brain. Distraction eventually won out when
Hermione’s reward-kisses for a job well done inflamed his senses.
A sudden naughty idea crossed Harry’s mind and he considered the possibilities.
Neville and Viktor were spending the day in Hogsmeade with Hannah and Lavender.
Ginny and Luna, Dora and Fleur had all decided to take the opportunity for a
Hogsmeade visit as well. And the professors were all either occupied teaching
Jennifer the basics, or lounging about.
Harry and Hermione more or less had the school to themselves.
Feeling assured that they were safe in the library, Harry flicked his wand and
silently cast a muffling charm at the entrance while Hermione’s lips were
occupied nuzzling his neck. One hand behind his head, the other roaming his
chest, Hermione was none the wiser until she heard the click of the library
door lock when Harry cast his second spell.
“Harry!” squeaked Hermione; her eyes widened in both trepidation and excitement
as he slipped his hand under her skirt and caressed her inner thigh. “What are
you doing?”
“Studying of course...” Harry replied with a grin as his fingers reached
Hermione’s knickers and gently stroked the dampening fabric covering her heated
entrance.
“But what if someone comes in?” she moaned.
“There’s no-one else here - everyone’s busy or out of the castle... It’s just
us,” he whispered.
Harry trapped Hermione’s lips with his own before she could retort again, and
his other hand cupped one of her breasts, squeezing it through the fabric of
her blouse. Hermione’s heart raced and every nerve tingled with elation. She
was afraid that they would get caught, but she didn’t want Harry to stop.
Hermione gave herself to the moment, melting in the heat of a long, burning
kiss. She shuddered joyfully when Harry’s fingers slipped under the elastic of
her knickers and touched bare flesh, probing her humid fold, entering her
slippery sheath.
Harry’s digits burrowed deeper, his thumb jiggling Hermione’s little pearl.
With his other thumb and forefinger, Harry gingerly tugged the hardened nipple
which belonged to the breast in the palm of his hand.
A moan of bliss escaped Hermione’s lips as she wriggled in Harry’s lap,
quivering as she climaxed, soaking her knickers and skirt with her dewiness.
Harry groaned as Hermione’s bottom ground against his stiffness. He loved
bringing her off in his lap. The sensation of Hermione’s orgasmic response to
his ministrations nearly brought him to a peak.
Still giddy with delight, Hermione slipped from Harry’s thighs and kneeled
between his legs, unzipping his shorts and releasing his erection. Hermione
swirled her tongue wetly around the crown of Harry’s lance, then engulfed it
with her mouth.
Fingers tangled in Hermione’s tawny curls, Harry thrust himself deeper. A swell
of euphoria took him and he burst, spilling his seed into her throat.
The unrelenting tempest of ardour swept them both into a feverish frenzy, and
soon Harry and Hermione’s clothes littered the floor of the library. Hermione
fell back upon a table gasping, pulling Harry with her, clasping her legs and
arms around his backside as he slid his length inside her.
Again and again Harry plummeted to Hermione’s depths, sweat dripping from his
brows. The intoxicating scent of leather bindings and parchment mingled with
heady musk - the delicious friction of passionate abandon - Hermione reached
new heights of ecstasy and cried out Harry’s name.
Lost in the tremors of Hermione’s cascading climaxes, Harry burst, flooding her
chamber with his essence. Sparks of magic flew - arced like lightning - and in
the Restricted Section of the library, a number of books of Dark magic screamed
in agony...
                                     ~o0o~
For a midsummer day there were an unusual amount of Hogwarts students in
Hogsmeade, all there ostensibly on an overnight outing together. Gathered in
the Three Broomsticks for lunch, the youths chatted and laughed, nursing their
butterbeers as they ate.
Neville glanced at Viktor and Lavender who were snogging at the far end of the
table. Turning pink, he tried to focus on his bangers and mash - which was
proving difficult as Hannah was whispering and giggling with Luna and Ginny,
occasionally peeking at Neville.
When lunch was finished, Hannah grabbed Neville’s hand and dragged him up the
stairs to one of the rooms that Dora and Fleur had rented through the following
afternoon. Neville peered about nervously, spying Rosmerta at the end of the
bar serving another patron.
“Er... aren’t we too young?” Neville anxiously asked, halfway up the stairs.
“Don’t be silly,” said Hannah breezily. “I turned fifteen a few months ago and
you’ll be fifteen in a couple of weeks... I know lots of boys and girls who’ve
already had sex - well a few anyway - Ginny and Luna for example, and they’re a
year younger than us...”
“But are you sure about this Hannah?” moaned Neville. “What if your parents
find out?”
“They won’t,” she giggled, “I promise. They think I’m just spending the
afternoons with you and having an overnight with Lavender... and Lavender’s
parents think the same thing about her and Viktor. Anyway, what does it
matter... I love you Neville!”
Neville gulped when they reached the well polished oak door of the room above
the pub, resigning himself to his fate...
                                     ~o0o~
Harry and Hermione grinned at each other as they dressed, both glad that the
rather explosive climax of their escapade in the library hadn’t damaged any of
the books. Having worked up an appetite, they made their way to the Great Hall.
Following lunch, Professor Dumbledore caught up with the Potters before they
exited the Great Hall.
“Please excuse my intrusion, but I was hoping that I might observe your
practice in the Room of Requirement this afternoon. I wish to examine your
spellwork.”
“Er... of course sir...” said Harry.
“Are we going to do some experiments then?” asked Hermione eagerly, her eyes
shining.
“In a manner of speaking,” the headmaster replied. “It is my intention to
measure the current output of your spells. I must return to my office briefly
to retrieve some of my monitoring equipment, but I can meet you outside the
Room of Requirement in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later, the headmaster and his students were setting up his
instruments in the Room of Requirement. As they did so, Dumbledore explained
the workings of his devices.
“This one here measures the frequencies, and the other measures the power level
of the magic - I have had to repair those several times recently...” Dumbledore
chuckled. “Due to the necessity for precise calibration, I cannot place an
Unbreakable Charm on them - it would rather defeat their purpose.
“And this one detects the types of spells performed and locates them wherever
they are performed on Hogwarts grounds. It is however, only calibrated to react
to spells of a certain level of intensity due to the high degree of magic which
flows through the castle during school-term. It would be all be ‘noise’
otherwise - a cacophony of signals...”
“Thus, it does not generally register every minor charm or jinx. And of course,
it cannot locate magic performed in this room - the Room of Requirement - from
the outside, as the room is Unplottable. However, I would like you to begin
with something small to establish a baseline for comparison... perhaps a
Cheering Charm cast simultaneously, as one.”
“Alright Hermione,” said Harry. “You ready? ...on three.”
Harry counted down; on the count of three he and Hermione silently performed
the Charm. Dumbledore peered at his contraptions, looking only mildly
surprised. Both Potters felt a bit giggly as they peered expectantly at
Dumbledore, waiting for him to inform them of the results.
“Now see this reading here?” the headmaster began. “For an average sized class
performing Cheering Charms, it would not register at all, even if I were
standing with my instrument right next to them, because it is a rather minor
charm, requiring very little magical power - yet I am getting a clear
indication that a Cheering Charm has been performed.
“This other reading indicates the power level - and currently it indicates that
the power levels of your Cheering Charms far exceed that of ordinary Cheering
Charms, even done as regular group practice in class.”
“Would it make a difference if we were both touching - like holding hands -
when we perform our spells simultaneously?” asked Hermione “I was just
wondering because both times we summoned our Patronuses we were in physical
contact.”
“Physical Proximity and Directionality can certainly make a difference between
the caster and the subject with certain spells, and it is quite likely that
being in physical contact with one another may provide some extra measure of
power for some sets of spells as well,” Dumbledore answered. “But the
difference will likely be quite insignificant if you are very near to one
another.
“However, the extent of your range is something worth discovering during
practice. It may vary from spell to spell. I would ask that when you do
experiment in that regard, please take notes and relay any pertinent findings
to me so that I may observe them for myself in your next proceedings.
“Of course Professor,” Hermione beamed.
“Now, do you have any additional spells which you have practiced together which
you would like to perform before I observe your Patronuses?”
“Erm... Maybe,” Harry replied. “What do you think Hermione? Protego Maxima...?”
“Yes,” said Hermione without hesitation. “I think we’ve practiced that the most
besides our Patronuses.”
“Right, here goes then...”
The air in the Room of Requirement rippled with magic as the Potters performed
the powerful shield spell several times. Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction at
the readings, noting that with each casting, the spell’s potency grew.
“Well... it would appear that that the power of the magic behind the spells is
still developing. It is quite possible - and I daresay quite likely - that your
power levels may eventually reach an equilibrium. However, nothing is certain
at this stage...”
After continuing to lecture a bit on Magical Theory, Dumbledore sat in the
comfy armchair he had conjured and felt the waves of bliss wash over him when
Harry and Hermione simultaneously performed their Patronus Charms. The
headmaster quickly took his leave before he was completely overcome with
emotion, but not before expressing great pride in the Potters and their
accomplishments in a rather hoarse voice.
“D’you think he’s alright Hermione?” asked Harry with a bemused expression.
“Dumbledore looked a bit teary.”
“He’ll be okay Harry. He’s just feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Hermione replied
giddily, “I think the euphoria created by our Patronuses may have affected
him.”
                                     ~o0o~
Jennifer was exhausted after her long first day receiving instruction from the
professors. After dinner with Harry and Hermione, she retired to the quarters
she had shared with Hestia for a few weeks. Settling into bed, she snuggled
happily under the covers and quickly fell into a deep slumber.
Hestia was happy to see Jennifer sleeping soundly by the time she had concluded
a nightcap with Dumbledore and a few of the professors. It was nice to see the
girl not shaking and crying out from nightmares anymore. She wondered if the
appearance of her magical abilities had anything to do with it - but for some
reason Hestia couldn’t help wondering if the Potters had something to do with
it.
She sat for a few moments in the chair at the side of Jennifer’s bed watching
her sleep. Hestia gently stroked Jennifer’s long black hair and sighed as a
swell of motherly affection filled her. Jennifer looked enough like her, and
was still young enough, that Hestia could easily imagine the girl as her own
daughter.
“Good night Sweetie,” Hestia whispered, giving Jennifer a kiss on the forehead
as she got up to leave.
Jennifer stirred slightly when Hestia reached the doorway.
“Night Mum,” Jennifer murmured in her sleep.
Hestia’s heart skipped a beat and she quickly stifled a sob with her hand as
her eyes filled with tears.
                                     ~o0o~
Neville woke up the next morning and yawned, wishing that he could hold onto
the dream a little longer. It had been the best dream that he could ever
remember having, and he felt invigorated. Blinking in the bright sunlight
pouring through the window, everything looked strange.
He wasn’t in the Gryffindor dorm at Hogwarts. Neville gasped as everything that
had happened the previous night fell into place. He rolled over in his bed and
his eyes widened when he saw blonde hair strewn across the pillow next to him
and the partially covered nude figure of his girlfriend.
Already properly awake, Hannah snuggled right up against Neville’s own
nakedness and grinned. Neville’s heart began to race.
“It wasn’t just a dream...” Neville murmured giddily.
“Of course not, silly billy!” chortled Hannah. “But you woke too soon. I was
just about to try something to wake you up that Luna said I should try - of
course it’ll be a bit different for us than it is for Ginny and Luna, you being
a boy...”
“Er...?”
Hannah almost lost her nerve seeing Neville peer awkwardly at her, but she and
Neville had shagged twice in his bed before passing out last night, giving of
themselves to each other for the first time, and she really wanted to try this.
Last night had been amazing, and what Luna had told her about sounded like it
would be just as much fun.
Heart beating rapidly in trepidation, Hannah fortified her resolve. Before she
could talk herself out of it, Hannah tossed the blankets back and leaned over,
wrapping her lips around Neville’s morning erection.
Neville was shocked when she began to lick and suck his thingy. It had never
even occurred to him that anyone would dream of doing that. Embarrassed,
Neville almost stopped her, but Hannah’s tongue massaging his shaft felt too
good. Feeling himself beginning to lose it, he tried to get Hannah’s attention.
“Hannah,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “I’m about to... er... you know!”
Hannah just looked back at Neville with a naughty gleam in her eyes and ignored
him, continuing her ministrations. Neville couldn’t hold back any longer. A
surge of elation filled Neville and his loins jerked uncontrollably as he
filled Hannah’s mouth with his stickiness.
She gagged slightly and quickly pulled back, mouth agape. Several strands of
Neville’s essence - jetting from his still erupting penis - landed across
Hannah’s pink cheeks. Grimacing as she swallowed what was in her mouth, Hannah
grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped her face, then grinned
sheepishly at Neville, blushing furiously.
“I... er... I just wanted to see what it would be like,” she said with a
nervous giggle. “Did you like it then?”
Neville grinned. “Er... I loved it! ... Erm... if you’d like, I could... er...
return the favour.”
Hannah hesitated, then beamed at him. “I don’t have to go home till this
evening, so we’ve got plenty of time...”
                                     ~o0o~
Later that afternoon, after lessons with the professors were completed,
Jennifer joined Harry and Hermione as they practiced spells together in the
Room of Requirement. She was surprised when Harry had her begin with half an
hour of calisthenics.
“Er... It’s good to get in a routine,” Harry told Jennifer. “Being fit helps
you stay sharp and quick on your toes.”
“On my toes...?” Jennifer looked puzzled. “I didn’t think wizards needed
exercise to do magic.”
“Being strong and fast helps in a fight...” said Hermione.
“...and we’re going to teach you some really basic combat spells today,” Harry
added, “because I bet none of the professors have showed you any. Am I right?”
Jennifer nodded.
“Right, thought not...” said Harry. “They don’t really have a class just
focused on learning how to fight with magic at Hogwarts. Defence Against the
Dark Arts is mostly how to defend against dark magical creatures and some dark
spells...”
“...and most of the proper defensive spells aren’t usually taught until fifth
and sixth year Charms class,” said Hermione.
“And at some point we’re going to practice a bit of muggle martial arts too,”
Harry continued, “but don’t worry about that for now - Dora will train you when
we get around to that. We’re just going to practice stunning and shielding
spells today, so you can get the hang of it.”
Jennifer swallowed nervously. “Er... alright then,” said Jennifer, nodding
again.
Jennifer was a fast learner, quickly picking up the wand movements and the
pronunciations of the spell incantations. Hermione rather thought that Jennifer
was a bit like Harry, in that she seemed to have a natural instinct for
physical activity, and had remarkably good hand-eye coordination.
“Excellent!” Harry grinned at the end of the lesson. “You’ve got great aim.
We’ll have you up to speed in no time flat...”
                                     ~o0o~
The following day at breakfast, Harry and Hermione were pleased to see Neville
and Viktor both looking much cheerier. Everyone decided that it would be nice
to spend the morning on the quidditch pitch. While the others tossed a quaffle
around, Viktor and Harry chased a snitch. After flying around for a bit, Harry
and Viktor decided to take a breather.
“Zat vos amazing catch Harry,” Viktor panted as he dismounted his broom. “You
come out of nowhere on that last one.”
Harry grinned, clutching the struggling snitch in his hand as he sat next to
Viktor on the field of the Quidditch pitch. Luna, Ginny, Fleur, and Dora
continued to fly around and throw the quaffle through the hoops while Neville
watched from the stands.
“Thanks Viktor!” said Harry, “I don’t really miss playing Quidditch for
Gryffindor when I have someone to fly with. It’ll be fun to have a few more
when the Twins and Ron come back... but what about you right now? Will you
still be able to fly for the Bulgarian team if you’re staying in Britain?”
“I vant to, but it vill be difficult, so zey are letting me take time off for
now to decide vot I want more...” Viktor reddened and trailed off.
Harry had an inkling of what was bothering Viktor.
“Er... So how did your time in Hogsmeade go with Lavender the last couple of
days?” asked Harry.
Viktor’s face lit up, but the blush deepened. “Er... ze dates were very good.
Thanks to Dora, Ve find nice private place to... I... er... I probably should
not speak of it too much though,” Viktor heaved a deep sigh. “I vant to marry
Lavender, but I think her parents might not approve while she is still in
school - but I wait if I haff to.”
“That’s great,” said Harry. “So did you...er... ‘pop the question’ then?” Harry
had to ask. It only made sense really, if Viktor was willing to wait until
Lavender finished school.
Viktor’s sudden grin and nod was Harry’s confirmation. Harry grinned back. He
expected Lavender was excitedly telling Parvati all about it.
Harry looked up when he heard Hermione’s voice and he spotted her entering the
Quidditch Pitch carrying the never used Firebolt he’d bought for her on the
outing to Diagon Alley the previous summer - the same day he’d bought her wand
holster. Jennifer was with her, looking really anxious.
“I think I take my leave,” Krum said to Harry with a smirk. “Zese moments are
special for you, no?”
“Er... yeah, I suppose,” Harry replied, turning a bit pink. “But it looks like
Hermione brought her own broom today, so maybe she’s finally ready to give it a
go...”
“Hello Viktor! Hi Harry, would you mind teaching Jennifer how to fly?” Hermione
asked brightly. “She can use my broom, and I’ll ride with you...”
“Vot did I say?” Viktor chuckled quietly, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Then
he said a bit louder, “Good Afternoon, Hermione, Jennifer, I vas just leaving.
Haff fun flying.” Viktor gave Harry a wink and strode out of the pitch carrying
his broom.
“Are you sure you want to try this Jennifer?” Harry asked, eyeing the nervous
looking girl. Ginny and Luna swooped down to see what was happening, followed
closely by Dora and Fleur.
“Er...” Jennifer glanced at Hermione and gulped. “I do really - it looks like
loads of fun. But I’m a bit scared...”
“Hi Jennifer! You can ride with me for a bit at first to get used to it if
you’d like,” Luna offered dreamily.
“Oh...er...are you sure Luna? I don’t want to interrupt your game...”
“I don’t mind. I’m not very good at throwing the quaffle anyway, but I love to
fly. Come on, get on behind me.” Jennifer clambered onto Luna’s broom behind
her and put her arms around Luna’s waist.
“Hold on tight,” Luna giggled as she ascended into the air and Jennifer gave a
little shriek. Ginny zoomed up after them, chasing them around the hoops.
“Wotcher Hermione,” greeted the bubblegum pink haired girl. Dora peered
admiringly at Hermione’s Firebolt.
“Oh Hi Dora,” Hermione grinned, “You might as well have a go with my broom. It
looks like Jennifer won’t be needing it after all right now.”
“Cheers Hermione!” said Dora. “I’ve always wanted a go on one of these...”
“I’m sorry Dora,” said Harry. “I never realised. You could’ve had a go on
mine...”
“No worries Harry! I never said anything about it before, and I hadn’t really
thought about it until loungin’ around Hogwarts this summer.”
Hermione mounted Harry’s broom behind him and sighed happily. Harry grinned
when she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and snuggled against his
back. Moments later they were soaring around the towers of the castle,
Hermione’s golden tresses whipping in the wind.
That afternoon in the Room of Requirement, after practicing for several hours,
Neville and Viktor both managed a Corporeal Patronus, much to their delight.
Neville’s appeared to be a Shire Horse, and Viktor’s a falcon.
                                     ~o0o~
Several days later, Hermione was thrilled at how quickly Jennifer was
progressing. In just the last few days, Jennifer had managed to learn a lot of
the basic First Year spells. But Jennifer sighed at the piles of homework the
professors had given her.
“I don’t mind all the reading,” Jennifer told Hermione. “It’s absolutely
fascinating and I’m a pretty fast reader. It’s just... there’s so much to learn
- I’ll never be able to catch up to fifth year by start of term...”
“Don’t worry, I can tutor you. You’re doing amazingly well already,” Hermione
replied encouragingly. “You probably won’t be able to manage any of the
elective classes - except for Care of Magical Creatures. But I’m sure you’ll do
well enough to at least take the core classes for fifth year.”
“And I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to writing with these antiquated quills
and inkpots,” Jennifer sighed in annoyance as a splash of ink stained her
Charms essay.
“Don’t worry about splodges, there’s a good spell for cleaning up the ink...
Tergeo,” said Hermione, pointing her wand at the page and siphoning up the
excess ink.
“Oh, ta Hermione!” Jennifer brightened.
“And actually, Harry can help you with your calligraphy, as well as Defence
Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione said glowingly, “He’s better than me in
Defence. And either of us can help you with Potions...”
“Urgh! Potions - that teacher is really creepy,” Jennifer shivered. “He looks
like a vampire, and he’s awfully strict...”
“He’s alright really,” Hermione said sympathetically. “He was quite horrible to
me and Harry - especially to Harry - for much of our first year here. But
something about him changed. He’s quite nice to us these days - nicer to
everyone really...”
“And you’ll find that a lot of teachers here are very strict... they’re a bit
like the old-fashioned teachers in boarding-school stories...”
“YES! That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Jennifer interrupted animatedly,
her eyes turning big, “Except for Dumbledore - he’s a real softy - I feel like
I’m in one of Enid Blyton's school stories, or those Jennings and Darbishire
books...”
“Don’t tell Harry I said this,” Hermione giggled, “but he’s always reminded me
a little bit of Jennings... and Professor Snape was Harry’s Mr Wilkins until
Snape finally came around.”
Jennifer began giggling too, feeling much better about the piles of homework.
“I just realised why I feel like I’m in First Form at St Clare’s... Professor
McGonagall is such a Miss Roberts...”
Hermione snorted and both girls fell into a fit of laughter.
                                     ~o0o~
When she’d finished cleaning her teeth, Hermione found Harry reading the book
she’d come across in the Room of Requirement. She smiled brightly to see him
looking so happy.
“This is amazing Hermione,” he said eagerly. “I never realised... I mean...
some of this stuff about Chi, even though it's for muggles to do martial arts,
it still looks like magic.”
“That’s because ‘Chi’ is just another name for the body’s magical energy
field,” Hermione began, having already read the book, “like Dumbledore was
talking about when he was explaining why our Patronuses are so powerful...”
“Wait... doesn’t that mean that muggles can do magic then?” Harry frowned,
looking puzzled. “I don’t understand... I thought Dumbledore said that people
had to have magical genes...”
“Well, they do to be able to manipulate magic and do spells like conjuring and
charming, or transfiguring things - obviously muggles can’t do that sort of
thing,” Hermione replied, “But everyone has the potential to learn how to feel
and control their own energy fields to some extent... It only makes sense if
you think about it.”
“Oh!” said Harry, his eyes widening as light dawned. “Yeah... right! Of
course... that does make sense.”
“Yes, and there’s some more interesting bits towards the end of the book. It
has an addendum to the original muggle text with detailed illustrations and
instruction specifically regarding the energy field, and how to use it for
meditation and self-healing and other things... It’s not just for fighting.
“Anyway,” Hermione continued, snatching the book from his hands, a golden gleam
in her eye, “you can look at that later. I think it’s about time I helped you
with something you’ve been dying to practice for a while.”
“Wait,” Harry gaped, feeling a tingle of excitement. “You mean... really?”
Harry felt slightly surprised. He hadn’t been certain that Hermione would
really want to follow through.
Hermione grinned and nodded.
“You’re sure then Hermione? I mean - I know you’re not into girls...”
“Says who?” Hermione smirked.
“But... really?”
“Honestly Harry! Is that all you’ve got to say?” Hermione rolled her eyes
exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry Harry... I didn’t mean to tease you,” she giggled.
“Look, I said I’d help you change into a girl completely Harry, and I meant it.
And... and if I’m being totally honest I have to admit that a part of me is
really looking forward to this. I wasn’t sure that I would actually like being
with a girl in that way - but ever since Fleur kissed us a couple of times, I
realised it actually felt quite nice...
“And now... now I really do think it would be fun to... er... do it - but only
with you Harry. Though I think it would be more appropriate to call you Harriet
when you’re in girl form.”
“Alright then,” said Harry eagerly. “Er... so how should we go about this
then?”
“Right, well you should probably morph the rest of you into a girl first,”
Hermione replied, “so that you don’t feel awkward when you finally get the last
bit done.”
Harry followed Hermione’s instructions while she rummaged through the bookshelf
to find her book of female anatomy and took off her nightie. Then she passed
him a mirror and parted her naked thighs to give Harry a very close, in depth
view of her vulva. Hermione pointed her wand at Harry’s glasses and muttered a
magnifying incantation.
An hour and a half later, after numerous tries, Hermione declared that
everything looked just right.
“Okay Harriet, it looks smashing!” Hermione giggled. “Now let’s try out the new
plumbing to make sure all the sensitive bits are in the right place so that it
actually senses everything like it ought to...”
Moments later, Harriet gasped in pleasure as Hermione’s fingers slipped into
her heated fold and found the clitoris. Then Hermione probed Harriet’s wet
passage with her fingers and found the g-spot.
“Perfect, Harriet!” giggled Hermione again when Harriet wriggled and moaned
ecstatically...
                                     ~o0o~
Broderick Bode sighed. He was working late again, wondering if he should resign
from the Department of Mysteries. He missed seeing his family, and he was
concerned by the rumours swirling through the sub-departments that Operations
had something massive in the works.
In fact, Bode had been concerned for a long time - ever since Chief Umbridge
had wormed into a position as Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office - and
now she was Minister and ran the entire DMLE as well as the DoM. But there was
nothing he could do about it. He was just a lowly technician, and Operations
ran everything.
All he could do was keep his head down and follow orders. Bode couldn’t speak
of what occurred in the Department of Mysteries without risking arrest himself.
Bode finished cataloguing and storing the latest magical artifact confiscated
after being found in Muggle possession when he heard a shout. He looked up to
see Yaxley scowling at him from the doorway. Bode sighed; he wasn’t sure who he
hated most - Head of DoM Security Yaxley, or Yaxley’s immediate superior,
Deputy Head of the Unspeakable Office Rookwood.
“Look alive,” snapped Yaxley. “We have a possible breach in the Atrium...”
“What?” gasped Bode, “But who would be mad enough to break into the
Ministry...?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out!” growled Yaxley. “Now shut it and get a
move on...”
“Wait...” Bode gulped in trepidation, “I’m just a Magical Artifact Storage tech
- I’m not Security...”
“You are now...” Yaxley snarled. “Hurry up or I’ll kill you myself.”
                                     ~o0o~
Screams rent the air and the sound of shattering glass and small explosions
filled Diagon Alley in the darkening evening as wizards and witches finished
shopping for the day and store-keepers began closing procedures. Florean
Fortescue shoved the last of his customers through the floo in his office and
turned back to face the hooligans rampaging through his Ice Cream shop shooting
curses from their wands.
Florean swore when he spotted that he had missed one of his customers lying
sprawled on the floor. Dead or alive, he didn’t know. Angrily, Florean fired
hexes and curses back at the Snatchers.
He dropped two of them with stunning spells, but when one fired a killing curse
and missed, Florean retaliated with a concussive spell that slammed the
Snatcher heavily into a brick wall with a sickening crack. The Snatcher
screamed in pain and collapsed in a broken heap. Florean magically bound the
other two prone Snatchers and stepped over them.
Florean breathed a sigh of relief; he could still feel his customer’s pulse.
Steeling himself, Florean carefully peered out of his door to see if there was
anyone else he could save. His face fell when he saw through the haze two
people lying in the street who were clearly dead.
Further down Diagon Alley, Fenrir Greyback roared in fury. Ollivander’s shop
was empty - there were no wands and no wand-dealer to be found. And if the shop
had moved, there was no indication of its new location; Ollivander had left no
clues.
It was never good to disappoint the Dark Lord - Ollivander must be found.
Seething with rage, Greyback set the place ablaze with a Firestorm Spell and
disapparated.
                                     ~o0o~
Bode’s face went white, but Yaxley was unmoved by the sight of a security
guard’s body dangling by the neck in the Atrium of the Ministry as the gore
from guard’s disemboweled midsection oozed and dripped to the floor. The sentry
had clearly been the victim of an Entrail Expelling Curse.
It was too quiet. Standing by the fountain, Yaxley set his jaw and peered
around the Atrium. He heard a sudden noise behind him and whirled around too
late as an Incarcerus spell bound him from head to foot. Bode collapsed
lifeless to the floor, dropped by a Killing Curse.
Bellatrix cackled as she cast a Petrificus Totalus on Rookwood and the ropes of
the Incarcerus vanished.
“Those will just get in the way,” the witch said with a lustful gleam in her
eyes. She reached into her cloak and pulled out her ceremonial dagger as she
knelt beside Yaxley.
“No curses for you Corban,” purred Bellatrix, drawing a line of red with her
dagger across the exposed skin of Yaxley’s forearm, “No, that would be too
quick and easy! I think I’ll draw this out slowly - the old-fashioned way...”
Bellatrix giggled madly as she slit another thin red line across Yaxley’s
forearm, forming an X through his Dark Mark. If Yaxley could have screamed, he
would have as the knife came down again, this time aimed at his gut.
                                     ~o0o~
Hundreds of fans watching the football match at the Old Trafford stadium in
Manchester were taken aback when all the lights and television-cameras went
out, and those with mobile-phones lost their signals. An explosion ripped
through the field and a number of muggles fainted as giants tore through the
walls and stands.
Snatchers began dropping panicked muggle spectators like flies with curses and
stunners, and disapparating with several victims at a time or transporting them
via Portkeys. Two dozen Dementors swarmed and began sucking out souls at
random.
Lockhart was more careful in choosing his victims, using a discerning eye to
locate young muggle girls for himself and Wormtail as he moved through the
shrieking and gradually diminishing crowd.
When it was over, nearly a hundred lay strewn in the rubble and many were left
behind alive, still screaming amid the smouldering ruins of the stadium.
Maximum terror had been inflicted, and numerous muggles had been captured or
killed and taken to be turned into the Dark Lord’s Army of the Dead.
                                     ~o0o~
By the time the Minister had flooed back to the Ministry from her home,
reporters from the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, and the International Wizard
News Agency were already taking pictures from behind the taped perimeter around
the dangling mutilated corpses of Yaxley, Bode, and several Security wizards.
The WNN was doing a live radio report, and a glowing green cloud in the shape
of a skull and serpent hovered just above the bodies.
There would be no mistaking the hand of Voldemort for the work of a petty thief
by the Press this time. Rufus Scrimgeour and numerous Aurors were scouring the
area for magical and not so magical evidence, and he gave the Minister the rest
of the bad news when she arrived.
“I have fifty Aurors and a Magical Clean-Up squad already in Manchester,”
Scrimgeour scowled at the Minister. “We had to move quickly to obliviate the
memories of Giant Involvement from the muggle survivors. And I have another
dozen Aurors in Diagon Alley. Florean Fortescue rescued a number of people and
captured several Snatchers...”
“This is all clearly part of a coordinated assault by Voldemort’s forces!” the
Chief Auror concluded.
“Indeed!” the Minister responded darkly. The wheels in Minister Dolores
Umbridge’s mind began spinning, seeking ways to turn this disaster to her
political advantage.
Fortunately Bode and Yaxley were no huge loss, and Security was expendable.
Dolores nearly had the Wizengamot in the palm of her hand. If she had enough
Snatchers to punish, and played her cards right, this could be the breakthrough
Dolores needed to gain a majority on the Wizengamot.
“Very well Rufus,” Minister Umbridge nodded. “You seem to have everything well
in hand, but please inform me once you have finished interrogating the
Snatchers under Veritaserum, and then turn them over to the Department of
Mysteries for further questioning.
“Excuse me, Minister?”
“People only reveal what they believe to be the truth under Veritaserum, and
memories can be tampered with - sometimes we must dig much deeper, Rufus. The
DoM has the magical means to go deeper - but it is highly top secret of
course...”
The Head Auror regarded the Minister shrewdly for a moment before responding
with a nod.
“Yes Madam, I understand!”
                                     ~o0o~
“My goodness gracious me!” Garrick Ollivander exclaimed, his features
crestfallen as he read the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. “You were
absolutely correct Headmaster Dumbledore...”
“Please Garrick, we are all friends here. Call me Albus.”
“Oh...er, indeed sir; Albus it is then. In any case, I cannot thank you enough
Albus! I do not know how you managed to foresee the necessity for my
relocation, but you were quite right. It appears that my shop was especially
targeted by the Dark Lord’s followers for complete obliteration...”
“And you would no doubt be one of Voldemort's ‘guests’ by now, Garrick,”
McGonagall proffered grimly. “Though I am as intrigued as you are by Albus’s
remarkable prescience. How did you know Albus?”
“Voldemort will seek every advantage in this fight,” Dumbledore replied. “Like
the Minister and ourselves, he faces battle on two fronts. It seemed highly
likely to me that he would seek to control Britain’s preeminent supplier of
wands...”
“And I confess, I believed that Voldemort would have sought out Garrick’s
expertise in wandlore should Tom have run into any issues if he were to face
Harry Potter’s wand - their wands each contain the same core: a phoenix feather
from Fawkes. I felt preventing him from obtaining that knowledge was of utmost
importance.”
“Ah, but of course. That sounds quite... logical!” Ollivander’s gleaming eyes
widened. “But not having faced young Mr Potter since his return yet, the Dark
Lord still does not know that their wands share a core. So you are suggesting
that this was purely a tactical ploy on his part then - quite ingenious of you
I must say, Albus.”
Dumbledore took a sip of tea before replying sadly with a shake of his head.
“No, just the terrible Logic of War, Garrick,” the headmaster responded. “He -
or she - who controls the supply of weapons in a war has a great advantage -
and wands are weapons after all...”
Garrick Ollivander regarded the headmaster of Hogwarts cannily, taking a sip of
tea himself.
“Yes - well, regardless, my dear fellow, you undoubtedly saved me from torture
and eventual death...”
“Let us hope so,” Dumbledore interjected, “Voldemort’s next target may be
Hogwarts itself - but I believe we shall have the advantage should that be the
case... no matter what sort of force he manages to muster.
“I must also confess Garrick, that was another reason I had for cajoling you
away from your Diagon Alley location. As you had been so kind as to do a
‘House-Call’ for Hogwarts’ newest student, you know that we have remained for
the summer to protect Hogwarts from capture, and you know that Mr Potter is
among us,”
“It would not have done for Voldemort to have discovered yet that Hogwarts is
currently inhabited. The longer I can maintain that element of surprise, the
greater advantage we have!” concluded Dumbledore.
“Thank you,” Ollivander said quietly, peering keenly into Dumbledore’s
unguarded eyes. “I appreciate your frankness Albus - that makes this decision
much easier. I shall do anything which is within my power to do to aid in the
protection of Mr Potter. He and his wife must survive - I expect great things
to come from the both of them... If I may be so bold, I humbly offer my
services to the Order of the Phoenix...”
                                     ~o0o~
“That’s the wandmaker,” murmured Jennifer at breakfast. “I wonder what he’s
doing here again?”
Hermione shook her head as she chewed a piece of bacon. She had no idea why
Ollivander was sitting at the Staff Table with Professor McGonagall and the
headmaster. Harry’s brows knitted pensively.
“I dunno... maybe Ollivander is joining the Order. Maybe Dumbledore offered him
protection. It’s probably a good idea to keep Britain’s top wandmaker out of
enemy hands...” Harry suggested.
“Oh!” gasped Hermione. “Of course Harry. That’s very logical...”
“It does make a load of sense,” responded Dora with a nod before taking a bite
of scrambled egg.
Hedwig dropped the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler on the table next to Fleur
before settling on Harry’s shoulder and nipping his ear fondly. Harry grinned
and reached a hand back to stroke her feathers, passing her a sausage with his
other hand.
Fleur’s eyes widened in surprise as she read the headline of the Quibbler.
“Eet is a good thing zat Ollivander ees here,” Fleur gasped. “I think you are
correct ‘Arry, look at ze paper...”
Harry was shocked at how close to the mark he had been; he swallowed in
trepidation and passed the papers around.
“Looks like Ollivander left in the nick of time,” said Ginny as she read over
Luna’s shoulder.
“Right... I suppose this was inevitable,” sighed Harry, “But as horrible as
this is, we need to try and not dwell on it. We need to remember why we’re
here. That’s what we need to focus on if we hope to have a chance of defeating
Voldemort...”
***** Chapter 46: Looking Glass Chessboard *****
A fluttering of wings caught the lunchers at the Mingling Table by surprise. An
owl which Harry didn’t recognise dropped something off for Dumbledore at the
staff-table before depositing a large envelope in front of him while he was in
mid-bite.
“Bit late aren’t you?” he chuckled, giving the obviously tired bird a kipper.
“Who’s it from?” asked Hermione as the others looked on with interest.
“It’s from Moody,” Harry replied, his eyebrows perking in surprise. “He’s been
watching the BBC and reading the muggle papers, and they say that the Muggle
Prime Minister is blaming the Old Trafford Stadium attack on a recalcitrant
faction of the IRA trying to blow up the peace process, and... and,” Harry
gasped, “...and Sirius Black?”
Hermione nearly snorted her tea out through her nose. Everyone else at the
table looked stunned, except for Jennifer who just looked puzzled as she wasn’t
sure who Sirius Black was.
“Bloody Fucking Hell!” Harry swore angrily. “They’re claiming that Sirius is a
dangerous criminal with ties to international terrorists.”
“What? ... but how... why?” sputtered Dora. “That doesn’t make any bloody
sense...”
“It might,” said Hermione, frowning thoughtfully. “Sirius told us that he’s
been avoiding being seen in public because of his association with Remus. And
don’t forget, Sirius was targeted in the muggle press before as a criminal in
our third year when everyone still thought he was a mass murderer.
“What if Minister Umbridge told the Muggle Prime Minister about Sirius because
she knows he’s your godfather Harry? What if they’re colluding? I think she
might be trying to undermine your support system...”
Harry nodded as he continued to read Moody’s letter. “Yeah... I’d say you’re
right Hermione, Moody seems to think this proves that Minister Umbridge and the
muggle PM are in cahoots too... And he says that I should avoid being seen in
the muggle world because he thinks that the Minister may have also informed the
PM that I’m Sirius’s godson...”
“A conclusion with which I quite agree,” said Dumbledore, causing everyone at
the Mingling Table to lurch in their seats. They had been so preoccupied that
they hadn’t seen the headmaster approaching.
“I too have just received a communication from Alastor informing me of this
alarming turn of events,” Dumbledore continued. “I believe that it would be
wise to follow Alastor’s advice Harry. It would be best for you not to be seen
in public...
“However, if it should be at all necessary for you to walk for a time in the
non-magic world, I trust that your... special talents shall keep you
unnoticed,” Dumbledore concluded with a wink before strolling back to the
staff-table.
“Special talents?” asked Jennifer. And she wasn’t the only one who looked
bewildered. Only Dora seemed to know what Dumbledore was on about.
“Er...” said Harry, suddenly feeling a bit guilty with all eyes upon him. It
occurred to Hermione that Harry might be feeling badly about not telling their
friends about his rare ability.
“Harry’s a metamorphmagus,” Hermione said quietly.
“Like me...” Dora added.
“He is?” Ginny gasped. “Really?”
“Er... yeah,” said Harry. “It was supposed to be a secret. But you’re our
friends and I suppose I could’ve told you. Sorry I didn’t let you all in on
it...”
“It’s alright Harry. You don’t have to apologise,” said Luna. “Of course it’s
something you’d want to keep secret. If too many people know, even your
friends, someone might let something slip accidentally.”
“Er... what is a metamorphmagus?” asked Jennifer, still looking puzzled.
“Someone who can alter their appearance to look like someone else at will,
without the use of a wand,” Hermione answered. “Only someone born with the
ability can do it without a wand...”
After lunch Hermione took Harry aside and spoke quietly to him, a big grin on
her face.
“Speaking of being a metamorphmagus,” she said, “I think it’s time for a proper
‘first date’ with Harriet tonight.”
“Oh... er... yeah, alright,” said Harry, blushing and grinning back at
Hermione. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a while - I’ve always... er...
I dunno... I guess I always wanted to experience what it was like to be a girl
- at least sometimes anyway...” he muttered, peering around to make sure no-one
was listening and turning even redder. “I’m not sure why really...”
“I know,” said Hermione. “I finally understood why you were so interested after
you read that Oz book to me. Well, you’ll definitely get to find out tonight.”
Hermione smirked and leaned in close for a giggly whisper in Harry’s ear. “And
I have a little surprise for you - I ordered a... er... well, I ordered a toy
to play with...”
Harry’s jaw dropped in immediate understanding and he swallowed nervously; he
hadn’t even considered that. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of
the afternoon and all through dinner. He couldn’t concentrate and fidgeted the
entire time he was supposed to be helping Hermione tutor Jennifer, and his
palms kept sweating.
After dinner Harry said goodnight to their friends rather absentmindedly and
nearly tripped over his own feet as he departed the Great Hall with Hermione.
Harry stared at himself in the bathroom mirror while he cleaned his teeth and
wondered what the hell he was doing. He felt as anxious as if he really were
going on a first date. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Should he morph now or after joining Hermione in bed? Put on makeup? What was
he supposed to wear? Pyjamas? Nothing?
Sighing, Harry undressed and reached for his pyjamas only to discover that they
were gone. In their place was a nightgown, a sheer slip, and a pair of silky
white knickers. He shook his head and chortled. At least now he knew what
Hermione expected.
Harry looked at his naked body in the mirror and began to morph. His jaw
diminished and his face rounded, lips puffing and pouting slightly. The only
feature on his now heart-shaped face which remained wholly unaltered were his
eyes. His hair lengthened until it curled over his shoulders and his black
fringe flopped in his face. Harry flicked his now long fringe back and
continued.
His entire form slimmed and curved until there wasn’t a single sharp angle on
his body. Harry peered between his legs swallowing anxiously and completed the
transformation. It still felt really weird to watch his dangly bits shrink into
his body and see a slit form. At this point she was Harriet, she reminded
herself.
Harriet spotted one last thing which she had been thinking about altering even
before she had finally figured out how to transform her naughty bits. She had
noticed Hermione picking a pubic hair out of her teeth the other day after
sucking Harry off. Hermione hadn’t said a word, but Harriet still felt
embarrassed.
Her pubes had come in gradually as Harry, and she hadn’t really noticed quite
how thickly until this point. As much as Harriet enjoyed stroking the
delicately trimmed tawny wisps on Hermione's mound, she quite liked that
Hermione’s labia was bare. She felt it was only fair to return the favour and
she watched her pubic hair disappear.
Finally satisfied that everything was right - that she was now completely
feminine and presentable - Harriet slipped into the nightclothes Hermione had
left for her. She tingled at the sensation of the silky fabric clinging to her
skin. Harriet took a deep breath to steady herself, and exited the bathroom.
“You’re beautiful!” Hermione gasped when Harriet entered the bedroom. On the
previous occasion when Harry had completely transformed into a girl, she had
looked much like Hermione as Hermione had been Harry’s model.
“Th...thanks,” Harriet stammered nervously.
Hermione took Harriet’s glasses off so that she could get the complete effect.
“Gorgeous Harry... I mean Harriet. You can put your glasses back on again in a
minute. I just want to see all of you without them for a bit. Here let me help
you...”
Harriet got goosebumps when Hermione helped her slip out of the long nightgown.
Harriet’s erect pink nipples were clearly visible, poking through the sheer
fabric of her white chemise. She gasped with a thrill of pleasure when Hermione
cupped her firm perky round handfuls and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Oh, they’re the same size as mine Harriet!” Hermione gasped again, melting
into Harriet’s green eyes. “You really meant it when you said you thought I was
perfect...”
“Of course I did Hermione!” squeaked Harriet.
“But mine aren’t very big,” Hermione replied mournfully.
“I love your ... er... breasts,” Harriet responded earnestly, “...They fit in
my hands perfectly. I know they’ve grown a bit, but so have my hands...”
Hermione purred and threw her arms around Harriet, giving her a big kiss.
Feeling Hermione pressed against her, inhaling her calming minty scent, Harriet
relaxed.
“How did you change your voice?” Hermione asked after separating her lips from
Harriet’s. “I mean, I can tell it’s still you, but it’s in the right register,
and I can tell you’re not putting it on...”
“I...er... I’m not sure really. I didn’t try to on purpose. I... I think my
vocal cords just shrank slightly when I was adjusting my neck to look like a
girl’s.”
“Hmmm... that makes sense,” Hermione trailed her fingers along Harriet’s
delicately sculpted throat, “It must have altered when the muscles changed
shape.” Hermione replaced her fingers with her lips; Harriet trembled slightly
and her heart began to race.
“This really is amazing Harriet...” Hermione murmured, “all the little details
are perfect - even better than last time.”
“Because I had the perfect model Hermione,” Harriet whispered as she put her
hands around Hermione’s waist and began tenderly returning Hermione’s kisses.
Hermione melted again as she pulled Harriet onto the bed.
New sensations tingled in Harriet’s body, and the silky knickers Hermione had
given her began to moisten as Hermione slid her hands across Harriet’s taut,
smooth abdomen, and drew her fingers across trembling skin. Hermione pushed the
clingy chemise up above Harriet’s breasts, kneading her firm little hills.
Tentatively at first, Hermione gave the attentive peaks a lick, then encircled
one with her lips, gently nibbling, drawing it in wetly, flicking it with her
tongue as she gained more confidence and felt Harriet responding.
Harriet shuddered as a ripple of pleasure swept through her from head to toe;
her nipples were now many times more sensitive than she recalled them ever
being before. She moaned and folded her legs around Hermione’s when Hermione
slid a hand under the waistband of Harriet’s knickers.
Hermione slipped her fingers into Harriet’s entrance while she continued to
lave Harriet’s nipples with her tongue; her thumb located Harriet’s fleshy
pearl and the younger girl’s moans grew louder. As the waves of euphoria
crested, Harriet squealed and arched ecstatically, flooding Hermione’s fingers.
“Mmmm... you’re much more vocal as a girl Harriet,” giggled Hermione as she
tugged off Harriet’s soaked knickers.
“I... I never realised...” gasped Harriet, still in the throes of passion,
“...so sensitive...”
When the fog of ardour in Harriet’s brain cleared somewhat, she saw that
Hermione had stripped off her own chemise and knickers. Hermione straddled
Harriet’s waist, and with a gleam in her eyes she gestured towards the toy she
had bought.
Harriet’s eyes widened and she gulped, shivering slightly in anticipation.
“Are you ready for this Harriet?” Hermione asked, her eyes softening with
concern. She needn’t have worried. Harriet grinned.
“Be gentle Hermione... it’s my First Time!”
“Prat!” Hermione stuck her tongue out and swatted Harriet playfully, giggling.
Hermione parted Harriet’s thighs and presented the tip of the strap-on to
Harriet’s humid pink entrance. Hermione squeezed Harriet’s bottom cheeks and
thrust her loins, penetrating Harriet to the core. Harriet gasped when she felt
the lance slide inside her, filling her completely.
Harriet was utterly blown away by the rapturous sensations engulfing her as
Hermione built up a steady rhythm. She bucked her hips to meet Hermione’s
thrusts as the sweat dripped from Hermione’s brow and spattered onto Harriet’s
shimmying breasts.
Harriet wrapped her legs and arms around Hermione’s backside and undulated
beneath her. Another wave of elation surged and the magic crackled and arced
from the squirming pair of naked witches. The bed rocked and the walls of the
Potters’ bedchamber shook as the tempest of bliss took them both, the room
echoing with the sounds of ecstasy.
As the storm of delight ebbed, Hermione peppered Harriet with little kisses.
“Well?” said Hermione, grinning. “What do you think? Was it as nice as you
expected?”
“That was fantastic Hermione!” Harriet gushed, her green eyes shining
gleefully. “What about you...? Technically it was your first time with a girl
too...”
“It was lovely!” Hermione bit her lip, fluttering her lashes, her cheeks
turning pink. “You’re so pretty as a girl - you felt so nice... and... and it
was fun pretending to be the ‘boy’...”
“Brilliant!” said Harriet. “Let’s have another go then shall we?”
“Only if I get to be the girl again after...” Hermione giggled.
                                     ~o0o~
Summer seemed to be flying by. Snape appeared to be pleased with the Potters’
progress in Advanced Potions (though as usual, it was hard from his expressions
to be entirely certain). Training and practice in the Room of Requirement with
the others was going well, and Jennifer was exceeding everyone’s expectations.
All the professors were doing their utmost to help Jennifer catch up enough to
be placed among the fifth year students at the start of term. Even Lupin had
taken up his role as professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts to help her
advance as quickly as possible.
Although it was clear that she didn’t have time to learn four years worth of
magical theory, and four years of Potions or Herbology, Jennifer’s spellwork
was exceptional. She was already learning second year spells by the time Harry
and Neville’s birthday arrived, and nobody doubted that she would at the very
least be able to perform most of the spells required for beginning fifth year
students.
Sirius and Remus insisted on throwing a birthday party for Harry and Neville in
the Shrieking Shack, and it was being catered by Dobby and the other house-
elves. On the way to the Whomping Willow, Jennifer chatted about some of her
latest schoolwork.
“I still can’t believe that things like Mummies, Vampires and Werewolves are
real,” said Jennifer,a little shiver running up her spine.
“They’re just like other people really. They aren’t all evil.” Hermione
reassured Jennifer. “At least not all Werewolves and Vampires are - I don’t
really know about Mummies. Professor Lupin is a Werewolf.”
“Really?” Jennifer’s eyes widened. “He’s so kind - I never would have guessed.”
“Yeah... Remus... er... Professor Lupin’s really nice,” Harry nodded. “He was
one of my dad’s best friends - he and Sirius both were...” Harry couldn’t help
feeling a flare of anger as he thought about Wormtail again, but he did his
best to put it aside and just enjoy the celebration.
Soon the party was underway. Everyone had butterbeers in hand or set on the
table next to plates of hors d’oeuvres and bottles of Elf-wine. Neville was
beaming, thrilled to have a cake with his own name on it sitting next to
Harry’s.
Dora had brought her acoustic guitar, and Jennifer joined in on the old piano
in the sitting room of the Shack after Lupin used a magic spell to tune it up.
Everybody danced when Dora and Jennifer played a few bouncy tunes. Then a
record player was turned on; Fleur and Dora continued dancing for a bit while
Luna and Ginny snogged in a corner and Neville and Viktor took turns dancing
with Jennifer.
Harry and Hermione took a breather and joined Remus and Sirius in comfy seats
at the edge of the room. Sirius took a large swig from a crystal goblet full of
wine before grinning at Harry.
“Well Harry, looks like I’m a mass-murdering fugitive again,” he chuckled
tipsily. “I just can’t seem to shake my reputation.”
“Of course, being a known associate of a fugitive Werewolf probably didn’t help
matters,” said Remus half-jokingly with a wry smile.
“According to Moody it’s probably my fault for being your godson,” Harry
muttered darkly. “The Prime Minister’s only going after you because of me...”
“Don’t be silly Harry,” said Hermione sharply, frowning at Sirius. “Moody
didn’t say anything of the sort. It’s not your fault at all.”
“Hermione’s right, Harry,” said Remus. “The blame is not yours to bear. The
Minister is just trying to rattle all of our cages...”
“That hag would out Dumbledore to the muggle media too, if she thought she
could get away with it,” Sirius added. “The only reason she probably hasn’t is
because it would raise too many eyebrows at the ICW... The Minister wouldn’t
want to be called to account by an International Tribunal for violating the
Statute of Secrecy...”
“Thank goodness for small favours!” sighed Remus. “Anyway Sirius, lets not
dwell on that. This is supposed to be a party.”
“Quite right Remus!” Sirius looked crestfallen when he realised what he’d done.
He peered apologetically at Hermione and Harry. “I’m sorry Harry... I shouldn’t
have even mentioned it. Come on then... time for presents...”
When the party was over, everyone helped Harry and Neville carry their presents
back to the castle. Two others were quite surprised to have received presents
of their own.
“Thanks for the broom Harry!” gushed Jennifer tearily, giving him a hug. “I’ll
pay you back when I get a chance to transfer some of my inheritance to a wizard
bank...”
“No, please,” interjected Harry, blushing. “It’s a present...”
“Cheers Harry!” said Dora, looking more than a bit teary herself as she carried
her own brand spanking new Firebolt. “Really, you shouldn’ ‘ave... these
must‘ve cost a fortune.”
“And we’re supposed to give you presents for your birthday, not the other way
around,” Jennifer responded. “You should have told me your birthday was
coming...”
“It’s alright... really! I’ve got way more than I need already,” retorted
Harry, his blush deepening. “Sirius’s family was filthy rich, and he just up
and gave me a whole vault - and I’ve already got a vault of my own. I just want
to share what I have with people I care about.”
Jennifer bit her lip, not sure what else to say, once again feeling a bit
overwhelmed that people she’d only known a few weeks actually cared enough
about her to treat her like family.
After dinner, Hermione helped Jennifer study for a Charms exam. Then Jennifer
spent some time perusing magazines and catalogues with Luna and Ginny, Fleur
and Dora.
“I can’t believe it. Do wizards really dress like this every day?” Jennifer
giggled when Ginny showed her a British wizard-wear catalogue.
“Mostly only older wizards and witches,” snorted Ginny. “Even my mum and dad
wear robes at home, but they both dress like muggles a lot - especially Dad,
because Ministry employees are usually around muggles all the time. Most
younger wizards - except for a few Purebloods - tend to follow modern muggle
fashion trends...”
“My daddy only wears robes unless he absolutely has to change,” said Luna with
an amused look. “You should see some of the silly outfits he wears when he has
to be around muggles to follow a story for his paper.”
“Ze Continental wizard world, it ees much more with ze times,” tittered Fleur,
passing Jennifer a French magazine full of alluring men and women in sleek,
elegant clothes which Jennifer could easily imagine seeing in posh muggle
nightclubs.
“I can’t picture my mum and dad in anything but muggle clothes,” said Dora,
peering at the French magazine with great interest. “Mum gave up wizard clothes
when she married my dad apparently. They only wear robes for formal events.”
Nearby, Hermione was sitting on Harry’s lap with her arms around him as they
read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe together. She had bought Harry a
complete set of The Chronicles of Narnia with full colour illustrations for his
birthday.
“Thanks loads for this Hermione. I haven’t read these in ages,” said Harry,
giving her a kiss, “And I’ll have to thank your mum for the set of Roald Dahl
books. I only ever read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory...”
Distracted by the sound of giggling, they looked up to see the others huddled
around the magazines.
“That was really kind of you to order those brooms for Dora and Jennifer
Harry,” Hermione beamed.
“Er... Yeah, I suppose,” said Harry awkwardly. “I just wanted to do something
nice for them both. Dora’s family, and Jennifer... well... she deserves to be
treated nicely - she doesn’t have anyone else but us now.
“Anyway, Jennifer needed her own broom - she's great at flying!” Harry suddenly
grinned. “She took to it jolly quick after she got used to it riding with
Luna...”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry peered closely and listened attentively as Hermione turned the page and
pointed at the Chinese symbols next to the illustrations.
“...So...” Hermione continued from where she had left off, “these are some of
the symbols which should provide the same physical protection as practicing
Iron Shirt and Iron Skull techniques. They protect bones and internal organs
from damage, and also supposedly prevent serious wounds from edged and piercing
weapons.”
“I thought that sort of thing usually took years of practice,” said Harry.
“Yes... for muggles,” Hermione nodded in agreement. “But being wizards, we can
use a shortcut, and get similar effects by tattooing these symbols on
ourselves... It’s not perfect - they won’t make us completely invulnerable - we
could still be injured if the Force behind a physical attack is strong enough.
“I doubt they would protect us from bullets for example, but for most common
circumstances they should protect us from serious injuries.”
“That’s brilliant Hermione!” Harry said excitedly. “It’s a shame I didn’t know
about this in second year! Dobby’s rogue bludger wouldn’t have broken my arm.”
“I know... I was just thinking the same thing myself,” sighed Hermione. “Still,
you had no idea that you’d be good at calligraphy in second year, and there’s
no guarantee that you could have drawn them well enough to stop your arm from
being broken back then.
“And in any case, these symbols aren’t at all common or even really known in
European Wizarding usage Harry,” Hermione continued. “I expect that normally
you would only learn them if you went to a Chinese wizarding school, or had a
Chinese teacher.
“We got very lucky to find this book, probably because when you asked the Room
of Requirement to conjure up a place to practice fighting you envisioned the
Kwoons and Dojos from some of the martial arts films that Sirius and Remus took
us to see. It’s all your doing really, Harry,” Hermione concluded, beaming
proudly at her husband.
                                     ~o0o~
Even from his dank dungeon cell, fetid water dripping from the rocky ceiling,
he could hear the waves crashing against the craggy cliffs of the Scottish
headlands. Cassius Nott sighed at the sound of freedom, so near, and yet so far
away. But if anything could be said for his lack of freedom - and the torture
that he had endured - it had at least given him the time and the motivation to
rethink things.
During his time in captivity, Cassius had examined the wreckage of his life and
found it wanting. He set his jaw in determination as he regarded his shivering
son huddled in the corner. There were only two ways out: dead, or alive in the
service of the Dark Lord. And Cassius knew he would do anything to see his son
live - even if it meant his own death.
“Theo... Theo, listen to me...”
His son looked up with sunken eyes at his father but said nothing.
“You know what I have to do...” said Cassius Nott. “What you must do if you
wish to leave these walls... alive!”
A distraught expression crossed Theodore Nott’s features as he continued to eye
his father.
“Please, Dad... don’t do it! He’ll kill you anyway sooner or later - you know
he will. I don’t want you to leave me.”
“I have to do it...” Cassius replied. “...for you - for your mother. If I do
this, and he accepts me, the Dark Lord will give you a chance to prove yourself
to him as well.
“I just want you to promise me one thing... if you see an opportunity to get
away, take it! ... Get your mother and run... run as far away as you can. And
promise that you will do better than me if you survive...”
“Dad... please...” Theo interjected.
Cassius shook his head and went on, “This life we’ve led - everything I ever
taught you... it means nothing! It’s brought us nothing but misery... and pain
to those we’ve harmed - it’s a dead end! What bloody use is blood purity... or
great wealth if we fritter it away on selfish acts? Dumbledore is right... he’s
always been right!
“It’s too late for me... I’ve done too many horrible things - unspeakable
things - and I might have to do some more if the Dark Lord will take me back.
But you... you still have a chance for a better future if you can stay alive.
Promise me that you’ll stay alive and do better... Promise me!”
Theo hesitated, tears running down his cheeks. He swallowed and slowly nodded.
“Al...alright Dad. I will... I’ll do better... I swear!”
“Good... That’s good then. They’ll be coming for me in a moment... Just sit
tight, and whenever you get your chance, you go!”
The approaching sound of footsteps and jangling keys echoed in the dungeon
passage beyond the iron bars of the cell. A tall wizard, his chiseled features
framed by grizzled hair and stubble, halted and peered through the bars. Theo
shrank back when Rabastan Lestrange’s glacial gaze settled upon him. Those
frozen eyes returned to Cassius.
“Nott... On your feet.” Rabastan’s voice was as icy as his demeanor. “The Dark
Lord deigns to hear your pleas.”
Theo tried to stifle his sobs as his father was hauled out of the cell and led
away through the dungeon halls, certain that he’d never see him again.
“I promise Dad...” he muttered to himself between sobs. “I’ll be a better
person... I promise...”
Cassius Nott was roughly shoved through the entrance of one of the refurbished
castle’s large halls and thrown to the ground in front of the Dark Lord. The
seat which held Voldemort was probably the most opulent chair in the ancient
muggle residence, an intricately carved mahogany armchair befitting a lord. It
had clearly been chosen to be the Dark Lord’s “throne.”
To one side of Voldemort stood Wormtail, and to the other, Bellatrix Lestrange.
A small number of Death Eaters - most of them liberated when Voldemort had
taken Akaban - stood at attention in short rows on either side of Nott. With
glinting red eyes, the Dark Lord looked down upon Nott from where he sat.
“Speak your piece, Cassius,” said Bellatrix, her voice razor sharp. “Tell us
why you believe you deserve a reprieve from the Dark Lord’s righteous wrath.”
Cassius Nott swallowed nervously, steeling himself to make his case, and
addressed Voldemort directly. “I... I was wrong to support Minister Umbridge. I
know now that you are the only one who truly deserves my fealty. I beg your
forgiveness my Lord, and ask to be reinstated as one of your soldiers.”
“But how can the Dark Lord trust you Cassius?” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes in
suspicion at the wizard prostrating himself before Voldemort. “How do you
intend to prove your worth after your betrayal?”
“I... I’ll do anything... anything you ask of me my Lord!” Cassius replied.
“Anything... Just give me one task. And if... if I fail... my life is yours.”
The Dark Lord shifted slightly in his seat, his red slitted eyes piercing
Nott’s. To everyone’s surprise, a thin smile crept to the Dark Lord’s lips.
“Yesss!” hissed Voldemort. “You will indeed, won’t you! You will do anything as
long as I let your son live...” said the Dark Lord, his high, cold voice devoid
of mirth, belying the sarcastic smile on his face. “Tut tut, it would appear
that your true loyalty extends only to your family... How Noble of you Cassius!
“No matter... As long as your boy is in my possession, you will obey my every
command. Very well... Nott, I do have a task for you. You will serve me as a
Snatcher, and I shall have your son as a foot-soldier as well.
“Rabastan will oversee your first mission... and should you disappoint me
again, he will return with your dead body as an example to your son of the
price of disloyalty and failure...”
                                     ~o0o~
Nearly a week had passed since Harry’s birthday. When Hermione returned from
the library one afternoon, she found him sitting in their quarters in front of
the mirror, shirtless. Her breath caught as she eyed his chiseled torso,
wondering if Harry was preparing for a bit of fun. Harry looked around when he
heard Hermione entering the room.
“What are you doing Harry?” Hermione asked eagerly with a golden flash in her
eyes. “Something I can help you with perhaps?”
“Actually... yeah!” Harry grinned, knowing what Hermione was thinking. “I think
I’m ready to test out these Chinese symbols now...” Harry waved one of his ink-
brushes at Hermione and raised his eyebrows, smirking.
“Oh!” said Hermione, almost sounding disappointed. But she recovered herself
quickly and began unbuttoning her blouse.
Harry looked puzzled for a moment, wondering what Hermione was up to as he had
made his intentions quite plain. Hermione caught his questioning look.
“You were planning to use me as a guinea pig for the Chinese tattoos, weren’t
you?” Hermione responded breezily to Harry’s expression.
“Oh... er... Yeah - of course!” Harry reddened and reached for his bottle of
ink.
In fact Harry hadn’t been planning anything of the sort. He had been planning
on tattooing himself and having Hermione throw things at him and try to knock
him out. But he had learned not to refuse Hermione anything when she had that
determined gleam in her eyes.
Harry started by painting the symbols on himself while Hermione waited
patiently for her turn. He had to steel his nerves to ink Hermione; he had
discovered before the Third Task that it required all of his concentration to
focus on the runes and symbols and ignore the distraction of her enticing
figure.
“Mmm...” Hermione purred a bit and quivered at the delightful sensation of
Harry’s ink-brushes dancing across her skin. Harry smiled to himself, unable to
entirely block out the intoxicating effects of Hermione’s unclothed presence
It had taken some time before Harry and Hermione managed to test the symbols,
as they had both lingered over-long before dressing after the tattoo ink dried.
But after Harry had cheerfully concluded fondling his wife’s nipples and
bringing her to climax with his other hand in her knickers, and she had
returned the favour with a quickie fellatio, they dressed and made their way to
the Room of Requirement.
The Chinese symbols were a rousing success.
After some cajoling, Harry finally managed to convince Hermione to test his
symbols first before he tried anything on her. First he had Hermione throw
heavier and heavier objects at him with Banishing charms. Then, when he felt
brave enough, Harry encouraged Hermione to use Bombardas of increasing
intensity on statues very close to him - which Hermione finally did with great
reluctance.
Harry was thrilled with the efficacy of the symbols. Not only did every object
which Hermione conjured and hurled at Harry bounce right off him with minimal
pain - if any at all - but the symbols also appeared to protect him from the
worst of the concussive effects of blasting spells as well.
But Hermione drew the line and refused point blank to try and cut him with one
of the bladed weapons on the wall when Harry begged her to. Finally, when it
was obvious that Hermione was having none of it, Harry took a dagger and placed
it against the palm of his hand, swallowing nervously.
“Harry... don’t!” she moaned. “What if it goes wrong?”
“It won’t Hermione. I’m sure of it...”
Hermione winced and closed her eyes when Harry drew the blade across his palm.
“Amazing!” Harry muttered, peering at the unbroken skin.
Hermione eyed Harry with great anxiety when he tentatively poked the knife at
his ribs. Surely he wouldn’t dare. Hoping that Harry would be sensible and just
give himself little jabs, Hermione braced herself.
Gulping, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and plunged the dagger with all his
might. Hermione screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
Harry grunted from the exertion and a pinching sensation, and the blade bent in
half, leaving nothing but a single drop of blood oozing from a pinprick. The
only real pain he felt was in his throbbing eardrums, still ringing with the
echoes of Hermione’s shriek of terror.
Hermione glared at Harry angrily and stormed out of the Room of Requirement.
She gave Harry the silent treatment the rest of the afternoon, only grudgingly
following him up to the Room of Requirement after dinner when it was time to
meet the others. Hermione glowered at Harry the entire time while he painted
the symbols on everyone else.
One by one they all lifted their shirts and blouses, baring their midriffs for
Harry’s ink-brushes. Not being ones for modesty, Fleur and Luna removed their
tops completely, much to Neville’s dismay. Viktor chuckled when Neville turned
beet red and averted his eyes.
Dora just grinned, feeling a little tingle of excitement at the sight of her
topless partner. Ginny and Jennifer both blushed furiously when it came time
for each of them to lift their shirts.
“That tickles...” Ginny giggled as Harry delicately inked her belly.
“Oui, zat it does!” said Fleur with a dreamy smile, recalling the sensuous
touch of Harry’s ink-brushes before the Third Task.
“Now remember,” Harry admonished when everyone was inked and dressed, “This is
no substitute for a Shield Charm, but it should protect you from physical blows
or a long fall even if you don’t have your wand and can’t cast a Protego or a
cushioning charm in time...”
“Got it Harry,” Dora nodded earnestly.
“...and it’ll even protect you from getting stabbed or cut.” Harry continued,
glancing guiltily at Hermione who was still angrily scowling at him at
intervals.
“Prat!” Hermione muttered. But Hermione could never stay cross with Harry for
too long, especially not when his face was as stricken with guilt as it was.
“Don’t scare me like that ever again!” she snapped.
“I’m really sorry Hermione... you were looking right at me,” Harry responded,
his green eyes as big as saucers. “I just thought it was obvious - I thought
you... er... I thought you knew what I was going to do. I was terrified too...”
“I know...” Hermione sighed, finally deflating and looking at Harry sheepishly.
“I’m sorry too Harry - I just wasn’t quite ready to watch you stab yourself
with a knife - especially not without having Madam Pomfrey at-the-ready just in
case... I didn’t think you were really going to do it... Not as vigorously as
that anyway. I’m just thrilled these symbols work like they’re supposed to!”
“You and me both!” said Harry, still looking very apologetic.
“Wait... what are you doing Harry?” Hermione asked, her face flushing when
Harry lifted her blouse a bit, exposing part of her abdomen. Neville gulped and
looked the other way again.
“I’m just adding a couple of basic Norse Runes. I just reckoned we should
practice with a full slate of Protection Runes and Symbols for the next few
sessions. The tattoos won’t wear off...”
Finally everyone was inked and eager to practice being attacked after Harry and
Hermione demonstrated the effectiveness of the symbols.
Unfortunately, nobody was eager to take up the role of the attacker. It was one
thing to practice stunning spells on each other, and basic holds, joint-locks
and throws - which they had all gradually become used to, but everyone was too
afraid of hurting each other with strikes and blows if something went wrong.
Harry was as reluctant as anybody to clobber someone. He sighed, remembering
how he himself had been berated by Mad Eye for being too soft on Hermione
during training for the Triwizard Tournament.
Fleur attempted to cajole Dora into whacking her with a Beater’s Bat to get
things going, but Dora was having none of it. She just couldn’t bring herself
to thump Fleur. Dora still couldn’t get the horrifying picture out of her mind
of Fleur lying in the Hospital Wing in agony with two broken legs after the
Third Task.
Finally, Luna suggested a game of Rock-Parchment-Scissors; the loser would have
to be the assailant. Luna lost. Groaning and wishing that she hadn’t suggested
the game, Luna picked up the Beater’s bat, closed her eyes, and swung it at
Fleur.
“C’est Magnifique!” exclaimed Fleur when the bat shattered against her arm. All
she had felt was a sting as if she had been on the receiving end of a strong
slap, and the bat lay in pieces on the floor.
“Oh thank goodness...” Luna opened her eyes and let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Merlin!” Dora’s jaw dropped.
“That’s incredible,” gasped Ginny, goggling in amazement as she examined the
splinters of the bat.
“Yes it is,” Hermione agreed, “But we should still be careful... we can still
be injured or even killed. This just makes it loads harder...”
In no time, everyone was giggling and having fun breaking Beater’s Bats over
each other’s heads and using Banishing Charms to chuck heavy objects at each
other with no ill effects except for a few red marks, and a couple of
scratches. Dora and Fleur were even brave enough to have a little knife fight.
Only Jennifer had yet to join in. Hermione spied Jennifer trembling and nudged
Harry who was watching the others and chortling.
“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “I didn’t think... If you want, you can sit this out.
I know the symbols will work... and honestly, I’m not comfortable with all the
violence either.”
“It’s alright,” Jennifer shook her head. “I want to join in... Really! I know I
ought to for my own good. I just keep freezing up.”
“Oh, I know,” Hermione said, brightening, “Cheering Charms... we haven’t done
any today Harry.”
“Of course,” Harry smacked his forehead. “We should have started out with
that... saved ourselves a bit of time. I forgot.”
One Cheering Charm later and Jennifer was gleefully cracking Beater’s Bats
across shins and ribs with the rest of them.
                                     ~o0o~
“Oh... well done, Rufus! Well done indeed!” said Minister Umbridge in her
breathiest, girliest voice. “This exceeds all expectations. However did you
manage it?”
Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour hesitated momentarily, unmoved by the high praise,
but he had to admit that the Aurors who had survived their encounter with
Voldemort’s forces certainly deserved the accolades. They had managed to run
down a small group of Voldemort’s Snatchers as they had attempted to burn down
a Liverpool homeless shelter near St Luke’s Church Gardens and make off with
its residents.
Among the Snatchers had been Cassius Nott and Rabastan Lestrange. Nott was now
in recovery at St Mungo’s, grateful for his rescue - and Lestrange was in a
Ministry holding cell with the Snatchers after undergoing a Veritaserum
interrogation. Finally Scrimgeour responded to the Minister’s query.
“I cannot take the credit Minister - that belongs to the Magical Law
Enforcement Patrol and the Auror on-site in Liverpool... and no small amount of
luck. The attack on the homeless shelter was witnessed by local Patrol and the
Auror assigned to liaise with their Unit... They happened upon the Snatchers
quite by chance.
“The ensuing battle was fierce and the DMLE lost several of our finest,” Rufus
sighed, “yet they still managed to subdue and apprehend the culprits.”
Minister Umbridge would have rubbed her hands together and cackled with glee,
but she didn’t want to give Scrimgeour the wrong impression.
“Well Rufus, please be sure to send the Ministry’s regards to the families of
the fallen. Those who were lost must receive the highest honours. Now... do we
have any actionable intelligence yet regarding the location of Voldemort?”
“Unfortunately no...” Scrimgeour sighed again. “Warlock Nott has no
recollection of where he was being held. And despite the Veritaserum
interrogations, I regret to inform you that Rabastan Lestrange and the
Snatchers have been unable to provide any details regarding the current
whereabouts of Voldemort... perhaps a secret keeping spell?”
Dolores calculated her options. It was a shame that the location of Voldemort’s
base of operations continued to elude the Ministry, but that wasn’t
particularly important for the moment. The most important thing was that
Dolores now had a sizable number of hooligans to punish - including those which
Mr Fortescue had captured during the Diagon Alley attack - and someone of note
that she could haul before the Wizengamot.
With Lestrange in hand, this was the moment which she had been waiting for - a
decisive turn of affairs which would cement a majority on the Wizengamot.
Minister Umbridge smiled sympathetically at Scrimgeour.
“Never mind that Rufus,” Dolores responded. “The Department of Mysteries shall
take over from here. I have faith that the methods of the Unspeakable Office
will yield some actionable information... and if we do indeed obtain anything
of use, I shall inform you immediately so that we can bring the rest of these
criminals to justice. In the meantime, again - Good Work!”
Head Auror Scrimgeour’s forehead creased in consternation as he watched the
Minister depart his office through narrowed eyes, a sense of unease settling
over him. He couldn’t put his finger on any one thing in particular, but doubts
continued to niggle at the back of his mind.
                                     ~o0o~
His footsteps echoing through stone corridors and across marble halls, Wormtail
anxiously scurried through the castle to the Dark Lord’s throne room, knowing
that his Master would not be pleased. When Wormtail arrived, Voldemort scowled
menacingly at him.
“What is the word Wormtail? What has become of Rabastan and the Snatchers?”
“My Lord,” Wormtail swallowed nervously, hoping that he would not be taken to
account for Rabastan’s failures, “the Dark Witch has him, and the Snatchers who
were with him. The word is that they have been turned over to the Department of
Mysteries, and that Nott is once again in his Mistress’s hands, being cared for
in St Mungo’s.”
“That is most unwelcome news.” Voldemort’s face darkened and his deadly gaze
turned towards Bellatrix. “It is quite unfortunate that I cannot even rely upon
those whom I had once counted as my most loyal Servants. I am wondering if the
blame for Rabastan’s bumbling incompetence should be borne by him alone...”
“It matters little...” Bellatrix’s nostrils flared and she held her head high,
pointedly looking in Rodolphus Lestrange’s direction. “Rabastan is not my
blood, nor any longer my in-law,” she said haughtily, then with a shift of
demeanor, speaking seductively she continued.
“Am I not the Dark Lord’s Consort? My loyalties lie with you and you alone my
Lord - I am no longer beholden to the House of Lestrange. But in any case, it
is not Rodolphus’s fault that he shares Rabastan’s blood. He has served you
well, and should be judged on his own merits.
“Rabastan is undoubtedly already paying the price for his failures in the
clutches of the Dark Witch. And Nott is no great loss - we already have what we
need from him, and we have his son. And none who were taken were Secret
Keeper...”
The Dark Lord carefully considered his Consort’s words. While they held much
veracity, they belonged to someone of noteworthy guile, and the Dark Lord badly
needed an outlet for the rage seething within. It took all of the Dark Lord’s
effort not to strike everyone in the chamber dead; he would have to settle for
killing some Snatchers in their stead.
“What of my Army of the Dead?” Voldemort hissed dangerously, trying to distract
himself from his fury. “Where do our numbers stand?”
A smile crept to Bellatrix’s lips as she sensed the Dark Lord’s rage wavering.
“We are nearing completion... Master,” purred Bellatrix, batting her long dark
lashes coquettishly. The Dark Lord began to relax. He knew that his Consort was
just buttering him up, but he had to admit that it pleased him greatly when she
called him ‘Master’ in such a subservient manner.
“Rabastan’s contribution to their numbers was minimal at best,” Bellatrix
continued. She gestured towards the enormous television and library of video-
tapes nearby. “And in any case, these muggle entertainments have given me an
idea for a new breed of Inferi. With my latest modification, Inferi shall be
able to pass on the Inferius Curse to the living through their bites... much as
Werewolves pass on Lycanthropy.”
The Dark Lord’s features altered from an expression which promised danger, to
one which indicated malevolent glee.
“Good, good...” Voldemort nodded, a poisonous smile crossing his features as he
stroked his chin and contemplated the possibilities such magically endowed
Inferi presented, “That will do nicely indeed...”
Wormtail quietly let out a sigh of relief. The Dark Lord had been treating him
very well indeed for some time now, and Wormtail much preferred to keep it that
way.
                                     ~o0o~
Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley was working late into the evening in mid-
August when the reports of new Inferi attacks began to roll in. The first
report was from Nottingham, and an hour later another assault was reported from
Stoke-On-Trent.
The Senior Undersecretary was hopeful that this could be dealt with relatively
quickly and easily as both muggle locations were in Central England, but his
hopes were dashed when another report came in from a Bristol suburb which was
home to a small wizarding neighbourhood.
Percy began to resignedly scribble a memo to send directly to Minister Umbridge
but was interrupted by a scowling, disheveled Rufus Scrimgeour at his door.
“Senior Undersecretary, if that is a message for the Minister, I have some news
to add...”
“Good or bad?” Percy asked in a voice which he hoped didn’t betray the panic he
felt.
“A bit of both. A number of muggles and two wizards are dead, but we managed to
contain the situation in all three cities. We were fortunate in that the
numbers of Inferi in the attacks were small - no more than half a dozen at each
location... to begin with.”
“To begin with? I don’t take your meaning, Scrimgeour...”
“Two of the muggles from the first attack.... they turned into Inferi within a
half-hour of being mauled. Once we realised we were dealing with something new,
I was forced to improvise a new protocol. All of the dead have been
incinerated, not just the Inferi - muggle and wizard alike - just to be on the
safe side.”
“The Clean-Up team certainly has their work cut out for them then...” Percy
groaned. “This is terrible. I’m just glad we managed to contain this before it
got out of hand. Thanks Scrimgeour. I’ll pass along the information to the
Minister straight away.”
Rufus Scrimgeour nodded curtly and turned to leave. As he shut the door to the
Deputy Minister’s office he overheard Percy Weasley muttering to himself. Rufus
could just barely make out a few puzzling words of the Senior Undersecretary’s
private rumination over the sound of the scratching quill, “...spin this...
You-Know-Who or Dumbledore...?”
Rufus shook his head and wriggled a finger in his bad ear, wondering if he'd
misheard.
                                     ~o0o~
The beginning of the school term was only a fortnight away. And when the Daily
Prophet's and the Quibbler’s reports of muggle disappearances shifted to
reports of random Inferi attacks the following morning, the headmaster of
Hogwarts knew that an assault against Hogwarts by Voldemort’s forces was
imminent.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall exchanged dark looks, then glanced down the
staff-table at several professors too busily engaged in conversation to have
read the papers yet.
“I must say Remus, it is simply splendid to see you with a professorship at
long last,” said Professor Slughorn proudly. “You deserve so much more...”
“Really Horace?” Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows with a bemused expression.
“My professorship was short-lived, and I am only temporarily serving as such
again for Miss Watts’ sake. In any case, I was dreadful in Potions... ”
“Nonsense my dear fellow,” Horace responded, twitching his bushy walrus
moustache. “I have no doubt that you shall be reinstated when term begins - as
long as Albus is in charge at Hogwarts, none can touch you here - and I am
certain that you will permanently regain your post when the current regime at
the Ministry is brought to an end.
“As to Potions, you may not have been a match in Potions for Severus here...”
Professor Snape snorted and rolled his eyes, but Horace ignored him and
soldiered on.
“...or a match for Lily Evans, but your work was always excellent. I expected
great things from you, despite your... erm... condition. You were among the few
students of your year to graduate Hogwarts with Honours after all.”
“That’s very kind of you Horace,” Lupin flushed slightly. “But if Voldemort’s
curse on the DADA position is true, then there is some question as to whether I
will still be here when term begins - I managed to finish out Lockhart’s year,
and complete one of my own.
“Then Alastor took the position. But... well... we shall see soon enough I
suppose. And I wouldn’t have been able to manage it at all if it weren’t for
Severus’s Wolfsbane Potion. None can make it better than him,” Lupin concluded
with a grateful glance at Snape.
Something almost like a smile flickered in Snape’s eyes, but he merely nodded
curtly in response. Severus didn’t care for the personal direction of the
conversation, and despite having gained a modicum of respect for one another,
it wasn't as if he would ever be best mates with Remus Lupin or Sirius Black.
“Ah, that is another thing I have been meaning to discuss,” Slughorn carried
on, paying no attention to Snape’s obvious discomfort, “I think it is simply
marvelous that you two and Sirius Black have managed to put aside past enmities
and buried the hatchet. However did that come about?”
Snape and Lupin regarded each other uncomfortably, then Severus sighed and
raised his eyebrows.
“I had... an epiphany!” said Snape finally.
Horace was not to be put off so easily. He gazed shrewdly at Severus.
“And did this ‘epiphany’ have anything to do with Lily’s son?” Horace asked
pointedly.
“I suppose... one might say that,” Severus stiffly replied.
Slughorn was about to press for the juicy details, but the headmaster thought
this would be a good time to interrupt the conversation and come to Professor
Snape’s rescue.
“Ahem...” Dumbledore passed the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler down the table,
“have any of you seen the news this morning?”
Once he had everyone's attention, the headmaster began.
“I believe it is time. We must begin to make final preparations to secure the
Castle immediately. I shall recall Kingsley, John, and Alastor - and as many
members of the Order as we can spare to assist us in defending Hogwarts.
However, I do not wish to leave the members of the school’s Board of Governors
nor the publisher of the Quibbler unguarded...”
***** Chapter 50: Summer's End: Part 1 *****
The Prime Minister stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea and took a sip,
eyeing the Minister of Magic shrewdly. There was something about her which
reminded him strongly of the previous Prime Minister... who had been a
formidable woman indeed.
He was quite pleased with the way things were progressing. His fortunes had
turned considerably in his favour since June - quite possibly the lowest point
of his career since Black Wednesday as his party and his Cabinet continued to
be embroiled in one sleazy scandal after another.
He had offered up his resignation, challenging the other party leaders to put
up or shut up. The leader of the faction trying to push him out should have won
handily, but with Minister Dolores Umbridge’s assistance, the Prime Minister
had not only defeated his opponent, but trounced him thoroughly, and now the PM
was in a stronger position than ever.
It didn’t hurt that the recent zombie attacks and the Old Trafford Stadium
attack had been handled most productively. The public was rallying, now
clamouring for the increased security policies which had previously come under
fire for being too restrictive, too “fascist” as the street protesters liked to
call them.
He considered some of Minister Umbridge’s proposals - the advantages which he
and his party would enjoy could not be denied. Certainly the more
traditionalist wing of the party would be pleased, as would the bankers and
corporate elite.
Privatisation policies would be able to move forward much more smoothly and
quickly with the fortunes of the Opposition party in decline. And political
opponents and whistleblowers could be dealt with much more effectively.
And without a doubt, his own personal fortune would benefit greatly.
Dolores took a sip of her own tea, regarding the PM cannily as he mulled over
the opportunities presented to him. She had to give him credit - for a muggle
he seemed remarkably cunning, though he could use a few lessons in
ruthlessness. But the PM had come a long way already. He seemed unconcerned
that an unknown number of contagious Inferi remained at large.
Exploiting the loophole in the Stone of Destiny’s magical protections was
beginning to pay off handsomely. While the Stone of Destiny prevented wizards
from ruling Britain directly, through the institution of the Crown, it did not
protect the political process from manipulation by wizards to favour one group
of muggles over another.
Seemingly having reached a decision, the Prime Minister smiled. He reached into
a cabinet behind his desk and pulled out two crystal snifters and a bottle of
brandy.
“Well, Minister Umbridge,” said the PM as he poured them both a stiff drink. “I
know it is still early in the day, but it would appear that this is a momentous
occasion. I propose a toast to a long and fruitful relationship.”
                                     ~o0o~
“I am sorry that I cannot stay and celebrate Voldemort's demise with you and
your relatives, but I must return to Hogwarts,” said the headmaster. “But
before I depart, I need to inform you of the latest developments.”
Harry and Hermione peered questioningly at Dumbledore’s grave features. The
headmaster reached into his robes and retrieved the latest issue of the Daily
Prophet, passing it to Harry and Hermione.
“This is an important reminder, that although Tom Riddle is utterly dead, we
are not yet out of the woods. The Minister is launching an investigation into
the recent events at Hogwarts, and we shall all be under intense scrutiny.”
“An investigation?” Hermione squeaked as she skimmed the top article. Harry
shook his head and sighed in resignation. “What on earth is there to
‘investigate?’” asked Hermione furiously.
“She’ll take any bloody opportunity,” Harry groaned. “She’s probably trying to
work out a way to make us look bad for killing Voldemort.”
“Indeed...” Dumbledore gazed at his two students, and nodded. “She will no
doubt draw this out and focus the investigation on me for the time-being. Your
critical roles in turning the battle to our favour, and making it possible to
defeat Voldemort once and for all are still unknown to the public.
“Your part in things will no doubt come out eventually, but I believe it ought
to remain a secret for as long as possible, lest the minister should seek to
use this as a legal excuse to detain you for ‘questioning.’”
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment as he considered the news, then he nodded.
“Yes sir! That makes sense...” Harry began, “I was wondering though - our
relatives - they must be going mental after being stuck here for months -
looking at the same walls all the time, not being able to go outside. I... I
was thinking of sending them somewhere else for a bit. D’you think it would be
safe if I sent them out of the country?”
Dumbledore’s brows furrowed and he stroked his beard as he thought silently for
a moment. Finally he seemed to reach a conclusion.
“Yes... I do think that would be a wise course of action Harry. Notify me when
your families have decided where to go, and I shall facilitate the arrangements
for leaving the country. I believe the window of opportunity before the
Minister turns her attention back to you is narrow though.
“When the Minister does set her sights back upon you, she will no doubt already
be at the point of locking down all avenues of departure and monitoring Floo
travel in Britain. So decisions should be made swiftly.”
                                     ~o0o~
Tears of happiness streamed down Jean’s cheeks as she embraced Hermione and her
son-in-law. She was thrilled that the monster who had caused Harry so much
suffering would never again walk the earth, nor be able to hurt another soul.
Everyone who had been waiting patiently for their return since early morning
gave Harry and Hermione a hug, including Madam Bones and Mad Eye Moody. To
Harry’s shock, even Petunia tearfully pulled him into a tight embrace.
The years fell away and the memories flooded into Petunia’s mind. So long
ago... back before college, before Lily had received her Hogwarts letter,
before the headmaster’s reply to Petunia’s own letter explaining why she
couldn’t go to Hogwarts too, before even that Snape boy...
Petunia was small again, maybe six or seven years old. Petunia wasn’t certain.
But she could finally see clearly the one last perfect day before the magic -
the day before Petunia’s fear and jealousy had come between them and driven
them apart. Petunia remembered her younger sister - her best friend Lily.
“Th...thank goodness you’re alright Harry,” Petunia sobbed. “And... and thank
you - thank you so much for ridding the world of Lily’s murderer... I miss her
so much!”
“Well, it was really all of us,” Harry gasped for air. “Dumbledore’s the one
who did him in at Hogwarts, and if it weren’t for Hermione, it... it just
wouldn’t have been possible at all.”
Petunia wept even louder and threw her arms around Hermione, startling the
unprepared young witch. For the first time in her life, Hermione was on the
receiving end of a hug as bone-crushing as one of her own, or Hagrid’s. After a
few moments, Hermione’s Auntie Joanne put her own arms around Petunia, allowing
Hermione to escape.
“There, there dear,” said Joanne kindly as she held the sobbing woman in her
arms. “Let it all out...”
“I’ll make some tea then,” Abbie Brixton offered, pointing her wand at the
kettle.
“And you two must be famished. You haven’t eaten yet today,” Hermione’s mother
said to Harry and Hermione as she rooted in the pantry’s magical cold-box. “Why
don’t we all have an early Tea? Bangers and mash alright dears?”
“Oh... er, yes please,” Harry replied, suddenly feeling quite hungry. He
grinned when he heard Hermione’s tummy give a little growl. Hermione gave Harry
a little shove and blushed.
“None for me, thanks, Jean,” said Moody, looking pointedly at Amelia Bones
“I’ve got to be gettin’ on with things. Gotta talk to Dumbledore...”
“Oh... er, yes, indeed!” Madam Bones added, “I’ll come with you Alastor. I
ought to speak with Albus as well.”
After Mad Eye Moody and Madam Bones left, Hermione and Harry chatted and played
videogames in the parlour with Susan and Dudley until Tea was ready.
“I suppose Auntie and I don’t really need to stay any more,” Susan beamed as
her thumbs mashed away at the buttons on the videogame controller. “We’ll
probably leave tomorrow. Thanks loads for letting us stay here Harry. It’ll be
nice to see Mum and Dad again for a bit before school starts though... they’ll
be thrilled to see us both.”
“You’re welcome Susan. Any time...” Harry swallowed, reddening, not sure what
else to say. He was just happy that Voldemort hadn’t had the opportunity to
kill off any more members of the Bones family.
Dudley seemed quiet. He wasn’t shouting at the pixels on the screen in front of
him as he usually did when playing his games. Harry wondered what was wrong
with his cousin.
“You alright Dudley?”
“Wha... oh, I suppose,” Dudley mumbled.
Harry was just about to press Dudley to open up a bit when Abbie poked her head
in the parlour and told the teens that Tea was ready. When the piles of bangers
and mash had been demolished Harry knew the moment had arrived. Everyone was
still seated, either sipping a drink or leaning back looking full.
Harry swallowed nervously and glanced at his wife before turning back to face
the small gathering. Hermione nodded at Harry and squeezed his hand
comfortingly. Harry cleared his throat.
“We... er... I’ve been thinking,” began Harry, peering at Hermione’s mother and
auntie, and at Petunia, “well... Tom Riddle - Voldemort - he’s gone for good.
But the Minister - I expect she’ll still be after... er... me. I don’t really
know for certain if she’s more inclined to obsess about chasing after family as
Voldemort was or not...”
“But I know it must be maddening for you to still be cooped up here after so
many months, and I was thinking you might all like a... er... long holiday of
sorts.”
“I... I can afford to send you - all of you - anywhere in the world you want to
go. I think you.... er... should be safe out of the country. You can all go
somewhere nice if you want. Anywhere - I mean it!”
“But what about you and Hermione?” Jean asked, frowning.
“We’ll be alright Mum!” Hermione replied earnestly. “I promise! We’ll be at
school with Professor Dumbledore.”
Hermione’s mum continued to look skeptical, but she knew it would do no good to
argue with her daughter. There was much discussion around the table, and
finally a decision was reached about where to go. Following the deliberation,
Harry and Hermione took to Number Twelve’s library for a bit of quiet by
themselves.
“Well that was easier than I thought it would be,” Harry said with a smile as
Hermione plonked herself on his lap.
“You were right Harry,” Hermione murmured, “Nobody likes to be stuck in one
place for too long without being able to come and go as they please.”
“I was really surprised though,” Harry shook his head in amazement. “I can’t
believe that they all wanted to stay together when they go to Canada. I didn’t
think Aunt Petunia got on very well with your mum and auntie...”
“I’m as shocked as you are,” Hermione giggled, “I think they’ve all just got
used to each other - and nobody wants to be alone again.”
“I’m glad that Abbie Brixton said she’ll stay on with them too,” said Harry,
looking relieved. “I feel loads better knowing that they’ll still have a wizard
looking after them! D’you think they’ll like Canada? I thought they’d want to
go to a tropical island, or somewhere exotic...”
“Well, it’s possible that they’re going to be gone from the UK for a while, so
it makes sense for them to want to be somewhere that still feels a bit
familiar,” responded Hermione. “Dudley will be able to go to school there
until...”
Hermione paused, feeling a lump in her throat. Sensing her sadness, Harry
kissed Hermione's forehead.
“I know Hermione,” whispered Harry. “I’ll miss them too. But we’ll get through
this and deal with the Minister - they’ll all come home again eventually...”
“Are you sure Harry?” Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears. “What if Minister
Umbridge hangs on to power and Britain just gets worse?”
“Do... do you want to leave as well?” Harry asked sincerely. “We can both quit
Hogwarts and go to Canada too if you’d like. I’ll just be happy being with you
- wherever you want to go. And we can invite our friends to come with us...”
Hermione shook her bushy head without hesitation.
“No...” Hermione sighed, “We’re needed here Harry - we managed to get rid of
Voldemort and we have to help the Order stop the Minister from turning Britain
into a nightmare... This is our home. And besides, it’s not fair to ask
everyone else to leave their families behind... we need to help them.”
“Good,” returned Harry softly. He cupped Hermione’s chin with his fingers and
leaned his head forward to kiss her properly. “I’d go to the ends of the Earth
for you Hermione. But I’m really glad that you want to stay and fight, because
I do too!”
Later that evening, Harry and Hermione undressed and clambered into bed,
pulling the covers over themselves. They didn’t bother with nightclothes, as
the sensation of being at home again in their own bed, with their own silk
sheets against their bare skin felt nice.
Harry was about to reach for the book on the nightstand when he noticed
Hermione’s expression, the expression she always wore when she was thinking
deep thoughts about something.
“So what was it like Harry?” Hermione asked as she snuggled into the crook of
Harry’s shoulder, an arm across his chest.
“Pardon?”
“Your experience with the potion... What was it like? What happened?”
“Oh... er... It’s a bit hard to explain really...” Harry thought about it for a
moment then tried to describe the sensations. “At first it was like... I saw
ripples in the air, then the ripples sort of became a huge wave which knocked
me over and I was falling - and everything went dark. Then there were all these
lights... coloured lights - spinning around me and I felt dizzy.
“But then the colours began to form into shapes - mostly spirals and pinwheels
at first - but then they sort of... I dunno...” Harry trailed off, not sure
whether to tell Hermione. Maybe she’d think he’d gone mad. But as he looked
into her earnest eyes, Harry knew she wouldn’t.
“Then they turned into more intricate patterns - they sort of pulsed, breathed
- they seemed alive, like real beings... not just my imagination. They talked
to me in a language I didn’t understand - they tried to tell me something...
“And that’s when things got really weird. It... it was like I was everything -
everywhere all at once - everywhere in the Universe...
“For a moment I knew everything... Everything that anyone could possibly
know... and... and I don’t really know how to describe it... but knowing
everything sort of became feeling everything... It felt a bit like when we’re
casting Patronuses in the Room of Requirement - magic swirling all around -
sort of an overwhelming happiness... love...
“Then somehow - it all turned into a dark forest - but that bit was sort of
like a dream... and then... then...” Harry swallowed, feeling a deep ache in
his middle, his features anguished, tears trickling. “I was there Hermione...
It was real - I know it was! I was in my house - my parents’ house, and I was
me - as a baby I mean, but somehow I was me as I am now too, but inside the
baby.
“I... I watched Voldemort... I saw him kill my mum. And... and then he tried to
kill me - but his curse rebounded somehow - something my mum did before she
died stopped it from killing me.
“Then... at the same time I think... I... er... I think... No, I know it wasn’t
just accidental magic or his rebounding killing curse, Hermione. A killing
curse couldn’t blow up a house like that - even if it was somehow ricocheting.
“It was sort of like when we do our Patronuses - but without a wand... the
light just came out of me - the Corporeal Patronus came out of me... but it was
somehow even more intense than it is for us now, if that’s possible - because
of you - I felt you with me, loving me - and because of my mum loving me too.
“And... and Voldemort sort of burned up like the Inferi - from the inside out -
and then exploded - that... that’s what destroyed my parents’ house - Voldemort
exploding.
“I was there Hermione - me now, back then. Somehow I was connected through time
with my baby self... and... and I killed him - killed Voldemort then... and
killed the bit of him inside of me now - I mean earlier today - both at the
same time. They’re both connected - both times connected I mean - I know it
doesn’t make any sense...”
“Actually, I... I think it does make sense... I think I understand, Harry...”
said Hermione, her brow furrowed in deep thought. “If Einstein is right - and
nearly everyone thinks he is - then time stops at the speed of light - at least
it does for massless particles like photons - and that means all times are
connected somehow - all happening at the same time - sort of like a frozen
lattice made entirely of light... sort of like a hologram.
“It’s only because we usually experience things as particles with mass - as
matter - particles which move slower than the speed of light - that we
experience time. In the state your physical brain was in, thanks to the potion
- your mind, your soul, must have been set free to travel to any point in time
- past or future - and to any point in space too, for that matter. That part of
us - our souls - must have no mass - like photons have no mass...”
Harry looked completely confused, and Hermione knew that she’d lost him. “I’ll
try to explain it again later Harry. I know you’ll eventually get it...
“Anyway, that must be when you convulsed - when you killed the last bit of
Voldemort in you now, it must have released all of the Dark magic trapped in
you - sort of like when he exploded in the past.
“The potion experience probably wouldn’t have been so risky for you otherwise -
it’s probably relatively safe for most people... The released Dark magic must
have exploded in your brain, and the Patronus light forced it out when your
scar burst. That black stuff which comes out of horcruxes - that oozed out of
your scar right after the light came out of it.”
“Yeah...” Harry nodded. “That bit makes sense...” Then he grinned. “At least I
get that bit, Hermione.”
There was something about Hermione’s expression which caught Harry’s attention
- the yearning in her big brown eyes.
“You want to try it too, don’t you?” Harry smirked. “That’s why you think it’s
probably safe for most people...”
Hermione blushed; Harry always could read her expressions. She nodded, not sure
exactly what to say to convince Harry.
Harry chortled. “I suppose you want a chance to know everything too... even if
just for a moment.”
“Don’t be silly Harry,” she said, grinning and giving him a playful swat. “I
just want to have an experience that we can both share together.”
“Yeah... I know, Hermione,” he murmured with a gentle look in his eyes. “I was
just teasing.”
Harry leaned his head forward slightly, and Hermione met his lips with her own.
They melted into one another as the kiss deepened. When the kiss was finished
they both settled back in position, sighing contentedly.
After a few moments of peaceful bliss, Harry lifted the book from beside the
bed with his free hand, and he began to read it aloud to Hermione as her hand
gently stroked his chest. Hermione dozed off happily while she listened to the
sound of Harry’s voice as he read to her from The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
                                     ~o0o~
It was late in the evening and Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour uncomfortably peered
at the few core members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered before him. He
knew that some still didn’t trust him. And it didn’t help that he bore ill-
tidings.
“It is out of my hands,” Rufus Scrimgeour said with a frown. “I did everything
I could to close the investigation. The Minister overruled my recommendation
for closure, dismissing my Final Report as ‘incomplete’...” Scrimgeour huffed.
“She has directly taken over the investigation and has brought the Department
of Mysteries in...”
“You don’t mean...?” gasped Professor McGonagall.
“Yes. Dolores has Unspeakables leading the ‘investigation’ now,” Scrimgeour
scowled.
Albus Dumbledore was disturbed, but not at all surprised, and his features
remained as inscrutable as Snape’s as he absorbed the information. He glanced
at Madam Bones, who seemed equally unsurprised. But Madam Pomfrey looked as
appalled as McGonagall.
“It was to be expected of course,” sighed Dumbledore. “You are confirming what
I have already gleaned from reading between the lines of the rather misleading
report in the Daily Prophet.”
“So whaddya gonna do about this Rufus?” growled Alastor Moody.
“All I can do is keep forging ahead with my own investigation of the Minister,”
Scrimgeour sighed. “I have managed to root out a mole in the Archives and
Propaganda subdepartment of the Unspeakable Office. But I have nothing
actionable yet to counter her with, and it is clear that Dolores has garnered
the support of several key Wizengamot committees...”
                                     ~o0o~
Hermione was the first to wake, quite early the following morning. Too early
really. It wasn't even light out yet, but Hermione felt too restless to go back
to sleep.
She smiled to herself, remembering the stories Harry had read to her the night
before as she drifted into slumber. For some reason, one story in particular
kept replaying in her mind. It had been a story about three brothers, wizards
all, who had encountered a personification of Death.
But for the life of her, Hermione couldn’t work out why the fable had caught
her attention. Something about the story niggled at the back of her mind,
ringing a bell which seemed familiar. Not being able to solve a mystery always
unnerved Hermione, and she had been feeling a bit unsettled to begin with.
Hermione knew that she and Harry were at a crossroads in their lives together,
a juncture between the past and things to come. Harry had finally got the
closure he deserved.
They should be celebrating, moving on with their lives, and enjoying the next
few years at Hogwarts with nothing more than normal teenage things to worry
about. Well, at least normal enough for a pair of teenage wizards who had
married very young and helped defeat a powerful maniac.
But the future was still so uncertain. And for some reason that story with the
three brothers kept insinuating itself into Hermione’s thoughts. Hermione tried
to put it out of her mind. She closed her eyes and just paid attention to
Harry’s gentle breathing next to her, his chest rising and falling, his heart
beating under the palm of her hand.
Hermione pressed herself even closer to Harry and gently stroked his messy
black hair with the back of her fingers.
Hermione smiled to herself; Harry always looked so peaceful when he was asleep.
Unable to help herself she tenderly pressed her lips against his and he
stirred. Harry’s eyelids flickered as he awoke to feel Hermione’s amourous
affections.
“Morning Hermione! Bit early isn't it?” Harry grinned at her adorable blushing
face and reached out a hand to caress her bushy golden head. He returned her
kiss humidly, his passion rising.
“Morning Harry,” Hermione murmured, bearing an expression of longing. Moments
later, Hermione was atop him, Harry’s hands wrapped around her waist as they
kissed again even more vigorously.
Harry gasped with pleasure as she nestled her heated entrance against the tip
of his erection. Hermione rocked back and felt his shaft sliding inside her.
She let out a moan to feel Harry filling her completely, and began to ride him.
Harry met the gyrations of her hips with thrusts of his own, burying himself
within her.
Hermione’s sheath tightly gripped Harry’s lance as he plummeted to her depths,
the covers tumbling away. Harry’s lips encircled Hermione’s again and he had
both hands on her breasts, fingers tugging on her hardened nipples as they
continued to writhe in unison.
A current of bliss swept them both away and they lost themselves. Hermione
squealed as she peaked. The delicious sensation of Hermione’s climax was too
much for Harry. Groaning ecstatically, Harry burst, filling Hermione’s chamber
with his seed.
Hermione fell sweatily back against Harry’s chest, both of them panting.
Hermione lay there purring serenely on top of Harry, his fingers tangled in her
messy coils of hair. Hermione didn’t want to move. It felt nice just to lie
there peacefully in Harry’s arms with him still inside her.
Harry’s head swirled with intoxication as he breathed in Hermione’s aroma. He
couldn’t tell where he left off and Hermione began. He didn’t know how long the
two of them lay like that, completely absorbed in one another, but after
awhile, Harry felt the eddies of ecstasy begin to move him again.
Soon, the bed rocked as Harry and Hermione resumed their passions. This time,
Hermione was underneath, her legs tightly wrapped around Harry’s backside as he
plumbed her depths once more.
Magic crackled and sparked when the pair of them merged in an explosion of
euphoria for a second time and the walls trembled.
Having accomplished completion, the Potters lay together in a blissful daze yet
again, joined as one, for an indeterminate, seemingly eternal moment of
nirvana.
When Harry next woke, he realised that it was several hours later, well past
breakfast time. He also realised that he and Hermione were still entwined. He
couldn’t really move without stirring Hermione and they both roused themselves.
Hermione felt much clearer-headed. She cleaned her teeth while Harry used the
loo, then they shared a hot shower together. Something clicked in Hermione’s
brain as they both dressed and got ready to meet the rest of the day.
“Harry?”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember the story - about the three brothers? You were reading it to
me last night.”
“Yeah...” Harry finished buckling his belt and peered attentively at Hermione.
He wondered if she had had a similar feeling of deja vu. “Can’t forget that one
really. There’s something about that story - the Invisibility Cloak for one
thing...”
“And the Resurrection Stone...” Hermione said excitedly. Harry, I think the
story is based on real people...”
“Come off it. You’re joking...” Harry peered at his wife with a thoroughly
bemused expression. “Death can’t be a real character. He’s an anthropomorphism
- it’s just a fairy tale for wizards Hermione...”
Hermione stared back at her skeptical husband and giggled as the absurdity and
the irony of the situation struck her.
“Are you teasing me Hermione?” asked Harry, still with a look of bewildered
amusement plastered on his face.
“No,” Hermione shook her head. “I mean it. Of course Death isn’t a real person
- you’re absolutely right, but the rest of the story... Do you remember when we
found the Ring of Peverell with Dumbledore?”
Harry nodded.
“It’s the Resurrection Stone Harry - don’t you see?” Hermione’s brown eyes
gleamed brightly, “You and Dumbledore have two of the three magical artifacts
in the story. The three wizards in the story are the Peverell brothers, and
you’re descended from the one who owned the Invisibility Cloak. It all fits
logically...”
“You’re serious about this aren’t you?” Harry interjected, stunned by the
seeming credibility of the revelation.
“Absolutely,” Hermione responded adamantly. “When we found the ring, Dumbledore
said something very interesting to Mr Moody. Dumbledore called the insignia on
the Stone in the ring, ‘the Peverell Coat of Arms - the Deathly Hallows’...”
“YES!” Harry’s own eyes widened in excitement as it hit him, “I remember the
symbol. It looks a bit like an eye in the middle of a Triangle - but a slitted
eye. It’s not an eye, it’s the...”
“...stone in the ring, yes!” Hermione finished for Harry. “And that slit wasn’t
a slit, it was a wand...”
“...and the triangle was a cape - a cloak - my Invisibility Cloak. You’re right
Hermione, it all fits, it makes sense. Invisibility Cloaks as good as mine are
supposed to be really rare - it’s impervious to nearly everything...”
“I know; it’s perfect Harry,” Hermione gushed. “The cloak didn’t get torn or
damaged at all when I was wearing it as we crashed through the ceiling of
Gringotts. And the charm on it is as strong today as it must have been when
your father owned it. That’s unheard of. The Peverells must have been
incredible wizards...”
“The Elder Wand... That must be amazing,” Harry mused. “I’m not sure that I’d
want it though. Seems more trouble than it’s worth, something like that. I’d
rather have the cloak.”
Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement, “Me too... though I thought - given
your parents, you might like the Resurrection Stone...”
Harry shook his head, “Maybe at one time - but honestly, I’m not so sure about
that. It’s weird. I do want to see them - have a chance to talk to them - but I
don’t as well. I... I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m just not ready yet...”
“I... I think I understand Harry.” Hermione bit her lip, and smiled at him
tearily. Harry reached out and caught a tear with the back of his forefinger as
it trickled down her cheek.
“It’s alright Hermione,” said Harry softly. “I’m fine... really. I’m just
trying to say why, if I had to choose - at this moment in time - why I would
choose the Invisibility Cloak instead of the Resurrection Stone or the Elder
Wand. Right now, I’m just mostly curious...”
“...Who has the Elder Wand?” Hermione concluded with a nod. “Maybe Dumbledore
can tell us more about the Deathly Hallows, and what they mean...”
                                     ~o0o~
Madam Bones and Susan departed shortly after a very late breakfast, both of
them thanking the Potters profusely for their hospitality. Susan then gave
Dudley a hug and a kiss on the cheek before stepping into the green flames,
thanking him for keeping her company during the summer.
Harry grinned at the goofy expression on Dudley’s reddening face. He hoped
Dudley would have a chance to make some nice friends in Canada, maybe even meet
a girl. Dudley deserved it. He was almost a completely different person now.
Harry barely recognised Dudley as the boy whom Harry’s horrible Uncle Vernon
had trained to be a bully. All that seemed to be left of the old Dudley was an
obsession with movies and videogames that featured lots of gunfire and
explosions. Susan had assured Hermione and Harry that Dudley had been the
perfect gentleman the entire summer.
Moody caught Harry’s eye after the Boneses had gone.
“Well Potter,” Mad Eye growled, “I’ll be about for a bit until we’ve got your
relatives moved - which’ll likely take us till the end of the week. But I know
you’ll be headin’ back to Hogwarts tomorrow mornin’... You and your missus need
to know that there was an emergency Order meetin’ last night for some of us in
the ‘inner-circle.’”
“There’s nothin’ you need to worry about just yet. Dumbledore’ll fill you in on
anything which affects you when you get back to Hogwarts. For now, just
remember to stay vigilant.”
After Moody had departed, Harry and Hermione were left with Dudley who peered
at them a bit awkwardly.
“Er... Thanks loads Harry... for...erm... sending us on a trip.” said Dudley
with a sad smile. “It... er... it’ll be nice to get outside and see other
people again.”
Harry returned Dudley’s smile and nodded, “You’re welcome Dudley. I’m sorry
that Aunt Petunia vetoed your vote to live in Tahiti or the Bahamas.”
Dudley and Harry both began to laugh and Hermione giggled. After a few
chuckles, Dudley became serious again.
“I... I’ll really miss you Harry. I... I know I’ll have a chance to make new
friends, but it’s not the same. It’s not really fair. All those years... I
wasted on bullying you...”
Harry grew alarmed, seeing where this was heading. “Look... Dudley! That’s all
water under the bridge. You’ve already apologised. You’ve been really nice
since.... and anyway, I blame Uncle Vernon more...”
“No... that’s not what I mean. I mean... er...” Dudley floundered momentarily,
then pulled himself back together. “What I’m trying to say is... is that I’m
sorry that I didn’t have a chance to be your friend as a kid - before you went
off to wizard school. I think you’re really cool to hang out with - and... and
I just wish we had more time to be friends now...”
Harry’s eyes felt a bit watery, then a sense of resolve set in.
“Hey!” said Harry firmly, “I’ll see you again... That’s a promise Dudley!
Here... take this.”
“What is it?” Dudley peered at the hand-mirror which Harry had given him.
“It’s a bit like a mobile phone,” Harry replied. “If you touch it or hold it
and say my name, I’ll be able to talk to you on one too. This one is an extra
one in case mine gets broken. If you need anything... or just want to talk,
call me. Just try not to forget that you’ll be in a different timezone!” Harry
smirked and Dudley grinned back at him.
“Wicked! Ta Harry... does it... er... take messages?”
“Er... yeah I think it does actually! We haven’t really tried that yet... Do
you want to give it a go then?”
“Er... alright,” said Dudley.
Dudley said Harry’s name and spoke into the mirror. Harry waited a minute or
two then picked up his own mirror. As soon as Harry touched the mirror he heard
Dudley’s voice emanating from it and saw Dudley’s moving features. Harry nodded
in satisfaction as he listened to the message.
“Well, looks like it definitely works then,” Harry grinned.
Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the day cheerfully playing videogames and
watching action films with Dudley. For a special treat, Abbie Brixton went out
and brought back a take-out feast for everyone from a nearby Indian Restaurant:
a sumptuous spread of spicy curries, tangy rice, and samosas. Full and happy,
before going to bed, Harry and Hermione prepared to return to Hogwarts the next
morning, feeling ready for whatever came next.
                                     ~o0o~
Daphne distractedly dipped the piece of toast in the runny yellow yolk of her
boiled egg. She glanced the others, wondering if they felt the same as she did.
The afternoon before last, Dumbledore had cheerfully informed the Potters’
friends that Harry and Hermione’s mission had been a roaring success.
Daphne was thrilled and relieved that the scourge of the wizard world was no
more, with the surety that he would never return. Nevertheless, she couldn’t
help feeling a bit empty and confused.
She hadn’t expected to feel a bit lost. In some respects, the wizard who had
fashioned himself into a “Dark Lord” had defined her entire existence -
everyone’s existence for that matter. Voldemort had been a looming presence
over everyone in Britain for many decades. Even during the fourteen years that
people had believed him to be dead, most people had still been too terrified to
say his name.
Now that Voldemort was gone, Daphne was unsure of herself, uncertain of her
purpose. She knew that the Minister was the biggest threat to Harry and
Hermione now, but Daphne had no idea what she could do about that. The Minister
couldn’t be fought directly as long as the rest of wizarding Britain perceived
her to be the legitimate head of the Ministry.
All Daphne could envision in her own immediate future was several more years at
Hogwarts. But that was no longer enough for her; she needed more, something to
fill the gap, some knowledge of her destiny. And Daphne hoped that eventually
she would find it.
Doing her best to put it all aside, Daphne looked around the table again, to
see what everyone else was up to. Everyone was giggling or roaring with
laughter. Daphne grinned when she saw that Dora had changed her features to
mimic a bear snout as she ate her porridge.
Daphne’s own giggles were interrupted by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She was
surprised to see Professor McGonagall standing beside her. Somehow McGonagall
had pulled a Dumbledore and managed to sneak up on the Mingling Table without
anyone noticing.
“Professor?” mumbled Daphne as she hurriedly chewed and swallowed the piece of
toast in her mouth.
“My apologies Miss Greengrass,” began Professor McGonagall kindly, “I don’t
mean to disturb you, but I need to inform you that you have a visitor - your
father is here. When you have finished your breakfast, you will be able to find
him in the headmaster’s office.”
Daphne’s eyes went wide and her chest tightened.
“Is something wrong? My sister...?” Daphne gasped.
“It’s alright dear,” Professor McGonagall continued, all eyes upon her now.
“There is no cause for alarm. As far as I am aware, your sister Astoria is well
and at home with your mother. Your father simply wishes to speak with you in
person before term begins.”
“Thanks Professor,” Daphne nodded, her trepidation changing to excitement at
the news. Hastily Daphne finished her breakfast and dashed off to wash up
before joining her father in Dumbledore’s office.
                                     ~o0o~
Saying goodbye to everyone at Number Twelve had felt very different from any of
the previous goodbyes in either of the Potters’ memory, but they had both taken
some comfort in the fact that their relatives would have each other and a witch
to keep them company.
They had shared a quiet breakfast with the others before leaving. And even
though Harry and Hermione were both satisfied that Mum, their respective aunts,
and Dudley, would be safe in Canada and well looked after by Abbie Brixton,
farewells were still quite tearful.
Harry and Hermione emerged from the green flames in the fireplace of the staff-
room at Hogwarts to be eagerly greeted by a grinning Professor Lupin.
“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” said Lupin to the young couple
after Harry had regained his balance and stopped coughing. “I trust all is
well?”
“I bloody hate floo travel. We barely managed to keep ourselves together when
we went to Gringotts.” Harry grimaced as he and Hermione brushed the ash and
soot off their clothes. “I wish we could’ve just caught a train to Hogsmeade
and had you meet us there.”
“Well, we might be able to do something about that Harry,” said Lupin with a
thoughtful expression. “You are both technically of age after all. I’ll speak
to Dumbledore and see about getting apparition lessons for you both - though of
course...”
“...You can’t usually apparate directly into Hogwarts,” Harry muttered, not
sure that he would like apparating any better than floo travel. As far as he
was concerned, broomsticks were the best means of transportation in the Wizard
World, especially with Hermione snuggled against him.
“Indeed!” Lupin responded, smiling. “Most of the time anyway - unless
Dumbledore temporarily takes down the anti-apparition charms. I was actually
meaning that for the time being until the problem of the Minister has been
dealt with, that for you, direct travel is perhaps for the best. The less time
you are exposed in public, the better.
“In any case,” Lupin continued, looking even more cheerful, “I believe some
sort of celebration is in order. Perhaps you and your friends would like to
join me and Sirius at the Shack this evening for a bit of a soiree.”
“That sounds great,” said Harry, finally smiling himself. “Yeah, I’d like that.
Does that sound good to you Hermione?” Harry asked his wife.
Hermione returned Harry’s look, then regarded Lupin astutely, sensing that he
was holding back some joyful tidings.
“Well... that would be lovely, but I think Professor Lupin has some good news
to tell us first Harry!”
Lupin groaned. He had wanted to surprise the Potters at the party, but
Hermione’s keen observational skills had caught him out. Harry questioningly
peered back and forth between Hermione and Remus.
“You’d better spit it out Remus...” Harry said with a grin, “Hermione can be
quite stubborn at ti... ow!” Harry bit his tongue and smirked at Hermione who
was giving him a mock glare after swatting his shoulder teasingly.
“Hark who’s talking,” Hermione retorted. Then she set her sights firmly back on
Lupin, a bit of a smirk on her own lips. “Still... Harry’s not wrong! I’m not
budging until you tell us now, Remus!” Hermione’s features softened and gave
Lupin her best doe-eyed look. “Please!?”
“Alright, you win,” Lupin shook his head with a laugh and rubbed his forehead.
“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to tell you - but here it is then... I’m not
entirely certain how it happened, but I’m cured. I am no longer a werewolf!”
“Shut up! You’re joking!” Harry gasped.
Hermione’s jaw dropped in shock, “But that... that’s impossible, isn’t it?”
“Well - so Snape and Pomfrey keep reminding me,” Lupin chortled. “They are as
astounded as you two. But the results of Pomfrey’s tests are quite clear, and
undeniable. The only thing... Dumbledore, he didn’t seem quite as surprised as
he ought to. Especially when I revealed my own thoughts on the matter to
him...”
Professor Lupin gazed shrewdly at Harry and Hermione. Suddenly it hit them
both.
“Our Patronuses!” Harry blurted out, looking very sheepish.
Hermione’s eyes widened guiltily, “Please don’t be cross with us Remus.
Dumbledore said we should keep it a secret, but we still meant to tell you and
Sirius...”
“...But somehow we never got round to it...” Harry finished.
“Oh, heavens no! I’m not cross in the least,” Lupin reassured the two young
students, “Nor will Sirius be. We both understand the need for keeping some
things a secret - in as small a circle as possible. None of us knew how we
survived the battle with Voldemort. By rights Hogwarts should be in ruins, and
we should all be dead. And we might be if anyone untoward had stumbled across
whatever your secrets are...
“All of us in the Order assumed that Dumbledore had some secret weapon which he
had put you and Harry in charge of... But judging from your reactions, am I
right to presume that your Patroni had something to do with that as well?”
Lupin asked.
“Yeah, erm... they’re... er... ‘superpowered’ Patronuses, I suppose...” mumbled
Harry awkwardly, turning pink. He looked at Hermione who was blushing furiously
.
“Ah... say no more Harry,” said Lupin, light suddenly dawning on him. “I
understand... Sirius and I always knew you were both eminently suited for each
other, and there’s no need for the details.
“I must assume that your... erm... activities have something to do with the
Castle-Quakes. And would I also be correct to assume then, that your
‘superpowered’ Patroni were indeed responsible for the destruction of the
Dementors at the conclusion of the Third Task?”
“Yes...” Hermione squeaked. “But we had no idea that would happen at the
time...”
“...and it was only a guess on my part that they would kill Inferi too,” Harry
added. “We first gave them a go against the Inferi in the maze...”
“And it was a brilliant guess, a very logical inference actually,” said
Hermione. “Er... I suppose you’re right,” she continued, “We might not have
survived the attack on Hogwarts if it weren’t for our Patronuses...”
“And now that my Lycanthropy is cured, we know of at least one more effect of
such potent Patroni,” Lupin nodded with a satisfied expression on his face. He
noticed the Potters’ eyes flicker towards each other uncertainly.
“Perhaps two more then?” Lupin raised his eyebrows as something clicked in his
brain. “Should I also conclude that your Patroni had something to do with
Jennifer Watts’ newfound magical abilities as well?”
Harry swallowed nervously and Hermione bit her lip anxiously.
“It’s alright,” Lupin said gently. “Don’t worry... Jennifer Watts’ secret is
safe with me and Sirius. That is even more dangerous information to possess
than the ability of Patroni to destroy some of the Darkest curses and
Dementors...
“And I must say... it is quite incredible. Never in recorded history - at least
not that I know of - have muggles ever been turned into wizards. It is as
unheard of as a permanent remedy for lycanthropy...”
“And I cannot thank you both enough for giving me my life back, inadvertently
or not,” Lupin’s voice cracked, his eyes glistening wetly. “Words are truly
insufficient to convey my gratitude...”
By the time Harry and Hermione left Lupin, they had both cheered again in
anticipation of the celebration of Tom Riddle’s demise, and buoyed by the
knowledge that Lupin’s lycanthropy was cured.
“I still can’t believe it Hermione. Lupin’s going to have to learn how to be an
animagus now if he wants to be a wolf again. He’ll have total control when he
transforms.”
“It really is amazing Harry. Our Patronuses - we’ve gone further with that
magic than anyone has ever done. We’ve accomplished things with them that the
vast majority of wizards will probably never be able to do...” Hermione paused,
her face awestruck.
“Until just now - the way Remus put it - even after you used your Patronus to
destroy Voldemort - I... I haven’t really quite thought about it like that
before Harry - what it all means about our place in the wizard world.”
“I know... me neither really,” said Harry. “It’s almost like our Patronuses are
‘Curse-Busters’ of a sort. They seem to destroy certain types of really Dark
Curses...”
“...because they’re the opposite of death and despair - they’re the embodiment
of life and joy...” Hermione continued as she embraced Harry tightly. She gazed
into Harry’s lustrous green eyes and whispered, “They’re love...”
Harry and Hermione’s lips met in a long, rapturous kiss as they stood in the
hallway opposite the delighted portrait of Aphrodite.
The ancient Greek Sorceress known to the muggle world as the Goddess of Love
waited patiently as the young couple kissed. When the Potters finished kissing,
Hermione was the first to realise that something was different when she spotted
Aphrodite smiling blissfully at her.
“Er... isn’t our corridor supposed to be here?” asked Hermione, looking
bewildered. Harry was equally puzzled, wondering if they had somehow taken a
wrong turn.
“Yes indeed,” said the portrait of Aphrodite, batting her eyelashes
coquettishly. “While you were both gone, the headmaster thought it might be
wise to add another layer of protection for you and your friends. I am now the
guardian of the portal to your quarters. Only those with the right passport may
pass through me...”
“Er... passport?” said Harry questioningly. “Don’t you mean password?”
Aphrodite tittered, sounding a lot like Fleur. “Just a little kiss... and if
you taste right, you may pass unchallenged.”
“Taste right?” asked Hermione. She gasped and her eyes widened as it hit her.
“It’s to make sure that we’re not polyjuice or metamorphmagus imposters, isn’t
it!”
“Right in one, dear! Now... just a little kiss, right on the lips...”
The Potters blushed furiously as the life-size portrait beckoned them forth and
they both gave Aphrodite a kiss on her painted lips. The magical canvas
shimmered as Aphrodite tasted the truth of their essence.
“That’s it - now step into the frame...” said Aphrodite.
“Er... really?” Harry raised one eyebrow skeptically. This was a new one on him
and Hermione.
“Harry...” gasped Hermione, “...I think she means like in Voyage of the Dawn
Treader! Remember how Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace jump into the painting of the
Narnian ship?”
“Wow...Yeah, I do...”
“Then come on Harry,” said Hermione excitedly, grabbing Harry’s hand.
She stepped over the frame, pulling Harry with her. The Potters appeared to
flatten as they joined Aphrodite inside the painting. When they stepped out of
the frame again, they were on the other side of the wall, facing what was now a
Secret Corridor, hidden from the rest of Hogwarts.
“That is seriously cool!” exclaimed Harry, feeling awed. “I love magic,” Harry
grinned. “It’s weird - I almost feel like I’m turning two dimensional when we
step into and out of the frames, but from inside...”
“...the painting feels three dimensional and the outer-world looks two
dimensional. It’s like another world in there Harry...” said Hermione.
“I bet Neville’s going to have a heart attack when he has to kiss Aphrodite to
visit us though,” Harry chortled.
Hermione giggled but never got another word out because there was a squeal as
the door to their common room opened and Daphne pounced on the Potters.
“I thought I heard voices out here,” Daphne beamed radiantly, giving each
Potter a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you - we all did.”
There were hugs all the way around as Harry and Hermione entered the
Unaffiliated common room. Everyone was there except for Neville and Viktor.
Hermione spied schoolbooks and papers strewn across the coffee table and the
end tables by the sofa and cozy armchairs.
“We’re all helping Jennifer study for exams...” Luna explained.
“There’s less than a week before term begins on Friday, so Dumbledore is
setting Jennifer's exams for Wednesday,” Parvati added.
“And she’s bloody brilliant!” said Dora eagerly. “Dumbledore said they’ll only
be testing for the essentials, so there’s a good chance that she’ll be joining
you lot in fifth year...”
“...Except for Luna and me of course,” Ginny sighed, wishing they could skip
fourth year and take classes with their friends.
“Jennifer c’est magnifique,” Fleur added, “So much material in less zan two
months!”
Jennifer hid her crimson face behind her long dark bangs, “I’ve had loads of
help - I couldn’t have got this far without all of you, really...”
Relief flooded Jennifer when everyone began clamouring to hear details from the
Potters about the mission to retrieve the last horcrux. Everyone listened
intently and shivered at all the scary bits. The girls giggled and Harry
grinned, turning slightly pink, when Hermione recounted how she and Harry had
been caught snogging and seriously making out by Dumbledore at the lake.
Daphne wanted Harry and Hermione to stay longer after they had finished their
tale, but she knew that her father didn’t have all day.
“Harry, my father has some important things he needs to discuss with you - the
both of you. He’s with Dumbledore, probably still in Dumbledore’s office...”
“Oh, alright then,” said Harry, feeling nervous suddenly, “Er... d’you know
what it’s about Daphne?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but I think it has something to do with the Wizengamot,”
Daphne replied. Daphne looked like she was about to say something more, but
after a moment’s hesitation she gave the Potters a hug and sent them on their
way.
Hermione could sense Daphne’s anxiety as surely as she had sensed Professor
Lupin’s barely contained glee. Harry glanced at his wife as they made their way
to the headmaster’s office, a gnawing feeling growing in his own gut.
“Hermione, Daphne seemed a bit worried about something. D’you think she’s
alright?”
Hermione bit her lip.
“I... I’m not sure Harry,” she replied. “She’s definitely anxious about
something. Maybe we’ll find out what’s bothering her from Mr Greengrass.”
“Yeah... I suppose we’ll find out soon enough then,” said Harry.
Moments later, the two young wizards were greeted warmly by Mr Greengrass and
the headmaster, and seated themselves in two cozy armchairs. Harry swallowed
nervously and Hermione instinctively took his hand. Though the greeting had
been friendly, they both knew that this was no social call.
“Harry, Mrs Potter,” the Headmaster began, “As we all know, despite the final
demise of Tom Riddle, we still face an uphill climb. It would have been a boon
to us all if we had more time to devise a proper strategy for dealing with the
Minister, alas, we do not... perhaps I should allow Mr Greengrass to
explain...”
Cyril Greengrass sighed. He hated to be the bearer of bad news.
“Well Harry, the Wizengamot has been called to a full session for this upcoming
Thursday at nine am. Your godfather and I had hoped to shepherd you through
your first legislative session. However, given the circumstances, I think it
would be best that you not participate directly.”
Harry thought about it for a moment. After dealing with Voldemort‘s army and
Voldemort himself, the task of entering the heart of the Ministry and facing
Minister Umbridge again didn’t seem so daunting.
“Why not?” he said. “I’m not scared of the Minister...”
Cyril Greengrass couldn’t help smiling at Harry’s directness and fortitude.
“Good,” Mr Greengrass responded. “Be that as it may, I believe that it would be
far too dangerous for you to enter the Ministry at this time. The Minister now
has the support of three key committees... and controls a majority on the
Wizengamot...”
“Which has been confirmed independently by Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror
Office,” Dumbledore interjected.
“Indeed,” Mr Greengrass nodded, “But most disturbing, is how the Minister has
achieved this. Four members of the Wizengamot have been indefinitely detained
for ‘questioning’ following Voldemort’s failed attack on Hogwarts - all of them
members of the governing board of Hogwarts.” Mr Greengrass paused to let the
information sink in.
Hermione tried not to squeak when Harry’s grip on her hand tightened. Harry’s
nostrils flared, his face flushed and his stomach clenched. He opened and shut
his mouth twice, swallowed uncomfortably, and steadied himself before speaking.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Harry asked as evenly as possible, his anger
building, “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. If the Minister is looking for
a legal maneouvre to get into Hogwarts, I should try and stop her by speaking
out at the Wizengamot session.”
“I believe it is already too late for that Harry,” Mr Greengrass replied
somberly. “And if you were to show up for the session, I think that you too
will find yourself in detention under armed guard - and your godfather agrees.
The only suggestion I have, is that you should appoint a proxy to at the very
least vote on your behalf.”
Harry glanced at Hermione. She was as appalled as he was.
“Alright then,” Harry sighed in resignation. “The only problem is, I don’t
really know anyone. Who should I appoint - and how will they know the right way
to vote?”
Mr Greengrass smiled again; there was at least some small means by which he
could help Harry Potter.
“My wife, Hippolyta, has already agreed to sit in your seat Harry - pending
your approval of course...”
“But sir,” Hermione anxiously interrupted, sensing Harry’s skyrocketing alarm,
“What if the Minister tries to arrest you and your wife too. I... I don’t think
we could live with ourselves...”
Harry jumped in, “Hermione’s right Mr Greengrass. I... I really appreciate the
offer; I really do. But... but I can’t let anyone else take the fall for me.
I’d never be able to forgive myself if Daphne lost her parents.”
Several emotions crossed Cyril Greengrass’s features as he peered admiringly at
Harry.
“That should be of little concern Harry,” he replied. “Our family is quite well
connected. I do not believe the Minister will wish to risk losing her recently
found majority on the Wizengamot by going after us.
“I suspect that she would have done so already otherwise - as apparently, she
has been harbouring the Malfoys and is preparing to have the Wizengamot ratify
her Pardon of Draco...”
Hermione couldn’t help herself and hissed furiously. Harry’s head began to swim
as his blood started to boil.
“So you mean...” Harry hoarsely started to say.
“Yes!” Mr Greengrass’s features went icy and rigid, “Draco Malfoy will likely
be returning to Hogwarts...”
“And there is absolutely nothing I can do to prevent it,” Dumbledore quietly
added.
***** Chapter 53: Moving Pictures *****
When the Potters arrived at the Mingling Table for breakfast, they found an
annoyed Lavender dressing down an abashed looking Neville. Lavender had a very
Hermione-ish expression on her face, of the sort that Hermione wore when
telling someone off for doing something which they might possibly regret doing
later. Harry recalled being on the receiving end of some of those looks in
first year - especially before the Troll Incident - and he didn’t envy Neville.
“...Honestly Neville, we’re both prefects,” Lavender was saying crossly. “You
should have supported me...”
“I’m sorry Lavender... I know I should have said something. It’s just - Fred
and George - they’re our friends...” Neville moaned.
“Neville, you have to be able to stand up to people, even if they are your
friends... What they’re doing could be dangerous - even if they don’t mean it
to be. You wouldn’t want them to get in trouble for accidentally hurting
someone do you?”
“No,” said Neville in a small voice, looking very much like he wanted to crawl
under a rock and hide.
“What’s going on?” asked Hermione. Harry thought he had a very good idea of
what the Twins might be up to.
“Fred and George,” Lavender answered with a scowl. “They’re trying to rope
students into being test subjects for some of the skiving-off sweets they’re
making. The sweets supposedly make you temporarily sick enough to ditch
class...”
Harry smirked as Hermione bit her lip and thought for a moment; he was fairly
certain that Fred and George would be very soon forced to alter their plans.
“That does sound a bit unsafe,” Hermione agreed. “I suppose if Fred and George
want to test them on themselves they’re entitled to, and I’d say the best way
to stop them from using other students as guinea pigs is to tell them you’ll
inform their mother... I doubt either of them would want to receive a Howler
from Mrs Weasley.”
“I think you’re on your own on this one Lavender, but I know you’re up to the
task,” said Harry, grinning. He raised his eyebrows at Neville. “And I’m sure
Neville will have your back from now on... right Neville?”
“Er... yeah! Of course! ... I promise!” said Neville, peering pleadingly at
Lavender.
“Oh alright!” Lavender huffed. “I’ll deal with the Weasleys myself then. But
I’ll hold you to that promise Neville.”
Neville breathed a sigh of relief and shot Harry a grateful look as the others
began to arrive for breakfast. Fred and George took one look at Lavender,
deciding that perhaps it might be best to eat at the Gryffindor table. Harry
was just digging into his scrambled eggs and bacon when the Wiz-vision screen
flickered to life.
The Ministry flag rippled in the wind above a country manor as a rousing march
played. A large gathering of witches and wizards saluted Minister Umbridge as
she rode a carriage pulled by a number of miserable looking house-elves.
A single row of wizards and witches of regal bearing stood at attention in
front of the crowd. Harry presumed that they were the most prominent heads of
the Pureblood Houses as one of them looked like Lucius Malfoy.
Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley bowed to the Minister, then introduced her
to the acquiescent throngs, extolling the virtues of loyalty to the Ministry,
and of an orderly society in which everyone knew their proper place.
At the end of the sequence the Wiz-Vision displayed a new message for Hogwarts
staff and students:

                            Educational Decree #24:
 Henceforth, all Student Organisations, Societies, Clubs, Teams, or Groups are
hereby disbanded. An Organisation, Society, Club, Team, or Group is defined as
                 a regular meeting of three or more students.
  Permission to re-form may be granted only with the express approval of the
  Inquisitors. Any student in contravention of Educational Decree #24 will be
                              expelled forthwith.
The Great Hall erupted with sounds of shock and fury. “That’s rubbish!” could
be heard over the din, coming from the direction of the Gryffindor table. Harry
and Hermione looked to see Fred bellowing angrily. Indeed, the loudest sounds
of outrage appeared to be emanating from all of the members of quidditch teams
throughout the Hall.
Only one table appeared to be immune to the wave of indignation sweeping
through the Great Hall. Malfoy and known members of the Slytherin quidditch
team sat grinning and looking insufferably smug. The Potters and their friends
glanced at each other, their faces ashen.
“Bloody hell!” gasped Harry. “Hermione, you don’t suppose we had something t’do
with this, do you?”
“I really don’t see how we could have, Harry,” Hermione replied, looking a bit
shaken. “There’s no way anybody else could have found out yet - it has to be a
coincidence. It must be an intimidation tactic...”
“Professor Dumbledore will be able to do something about it, won’t he?” asked
Ginny, looking very worried. “I’m trying out for the quidditch team this year
too.”
“Well, it looks like Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall are working on it
already,” said Luna, pointing towards the staff-table.
Sure enough, the headmaster and headmistress appeared to be deep in animated
conversation with the Carrows. Several minutes later Dumbledore stood up to
address the students and the Great Hall fell into silence. Everyone awaited his
pronouncement with bated breath. Dumbledore’s rich voice rang through the Hall.
“Please calm yourselves,” said the headmaster. “After some discussion with the
Professors Carrow, the quidditch teams have all been reinstated...”
At this, the smug looks of the Slytherins evaporated and turned to glares, most
of them directed at the Gryffindor table, and great sighs of relief could be
heard from everyone else.
“However,” Dumbledore went on, “all other clubs must petition to be reinstated.
And as headmaster I shall be reviewing the petitions subject to final approval
by the Inquisitors. Now, by all means, please continue with breakfast.”
While most pupils returned their attention to their plates, somewhat mollified,
many at the Mingling Table moodily picked at what remained of their breakfasts.
“It’s a good thing you came up with the plan to work in small groups who don’t
know everything, Harry,” Dora muttered, “or we’d probably be finished before
we’d even got started. It’ll be ‘ard enough as it is just for us all to meet up
now without lookin’ suspicious.”
Harry nodded, sighing heavily. He and Hermione were both distracted much of the
day, but all things considered, things went relatively smoothly. Malfoy and
McLaggen both seemed to be keeping their distance, though Draco could be heard
loudly boasting about his father’s “special relationship” with the Minister at
every opportunity to anyone who would listen.
“Bloody git,” Ron muttered as he and Seamus made their way to Care of Magical
Creatures with the Potters and their other fifth year friends. “The way Malfoy
goes on about the Minister, anyone would think that she’s his new mum.”
“She might be more or less,” Hermione responded quietly. “The Minister has
obviously been harbouring the Malfoys personally since Narcissa Black left Mr
Malfoy, and since she sneakily got Draco out of Azkaban. And that was months
ago. For all we know, Minister Umbridge and Mr Malfoy have developed an
intimate relationship.”
“Urgh... You can’t be serious,” said Harry. “She’s hideous...”
Daphne wrinkled her nose in distaste and made a retching sound. “I can’t
imagine Mr Malfoy even being attracted to her - she looks like a toad. What
would someone as high and mighty as him even see in her?”
“Well, looks aren’t everything,” said Parvati. “People can be attracted to each
other for different reasons. But I admit the Minister is as revolting on the
inside as she appears to be on the outside.”
“You’re right Parvati,” Hermione nodded. “I don’t think looks really come into
it. I expect it’s more a matter of convenience for Mr Malfoy. The Minister has
what he wants - political access to the Ministry. He’ll probably do anything to
keep her happy to stay close to Power. He’s probably just using her...”
“And she’s using him too,” Harry interjected. “She’s manipulating Lucius Malfoy
just as much as he is her. It’s obviously a mutually beneficial relationship. I
just hope the Order has Madam Black well protected,” Harry concluded darkly as
they entered the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest near Hagrid's hut.
Jennifer - who had opted to take Care of Magical Creatures with the others -
remained silent as she followed the conversation; she had never met Lucius
Malfoy, but he sounded as horrid as his son or any of the other followers of
Voldemort that she’d come across. But the topic was soon forgotten when Hagrid
introduced the class to creatures that were invisible to most of the students
except for Harry and Hermione, and those who had been with them at the battle
for Hogwarts.
Parvati gasped in surprise. Daphne and Jennifer shrank back from the eerie
black skeletal horse-like creatures with bat-wings. Neville gulped, thinking
the creatures looked rather ominous and forbidding. Hermione peered at them in
fascination, and a strange feeling came over Harry which he couldn’t really
describe.
“Thestrals!” said Hermione. “I didn’t know we had them here at Hogwarts...”
“Right yeh are Hermione,” beamed Hagrid. “Very misunderstood creatures they
are... They pull the carriages that bring you lot up ter the castle from the
Hogwarts Express.”
“Oh...” said Harry, as recognition set in, “I remember them from Fantastic
Beasts and Where to Find Them. But why haven’t I seen them before then? And why
are we the only ones that can?” he asked.
“Because we’ve seen Death, Harry,” Hermione responded sadly. “And lots of it...
Though I’m not sure why you haven’t see them before. You were there when your
mother was killed...”
Harry swallowed, blinking back sudden tears. “Maybe... maybe it was because I
never really understood what I was seeing at the time - I was too little. I...
I really only saw it properly... only when Snape helped me... er...”
Hermione nodded and took Harry’s hand. “I know Harry,” she said gently. “You
don’t have to say it.”
Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and mustered a smile. He reached out
a hand to a small Thestral which appeared to be a foal and it let him stroke
its snout. Its shiny black coat was surprisingly soft and velvety.
Harry still didn’t know what to call that feeling the Thestrals aroused within
him, but if he had to describe the feeling he might have said it was
bittersweet, a sort of yearning for something beautiful that he’d lost but was
yet still a part of him, something tantalisingly just out of reach, yet within
his grasp.
It felt like a beloved memory too painful to let go of, and too painful to hold
onto. It felt like seeing a picture of his mother for the first time, or like
seeing his parents in the Mirror of Erised.
“Thestrals...” Harry murmured as a tear broke free and rolled down one cheek,
“they’re not so bad really...”
“Quite righ’ Harry...” Hagrid cheerfully agreed as he chucked large slabs of
raw meat at the Thestrals.
“Very gentle creatures Thestrals are!” he continued as the creatures began
ravenously tearing the chunks of bloody meat to shreds with their razor sharp
fangs.
After classes let out for the day, Hermione could see that Harry still had a
brooding look about him. She waved off their friends, knowing that Harry just
wanted to be alone. They both retired to their quarters for the evening, not
even returning to the Great Hall for dinner.
Harry lay on the bed, settling in Hermione’s warm embrace as she stroked his
messy black hair and kissed him tenderly. Crookshanks purred as he looked down
from the top of the wardrobe, his bushy tail curled around Hedwig...
                                     ~o0o~
Friday eventually rolled around, and with it came the apprehension of knowing
that Amycus Carrow’s class was looming. Harry was distracted from his
rumination by the morning’s Wiz-Vision broadcast. This one was quite a bit
lengthier than the previous ones, being the first ever wizard daily news
programme.
A rousing musical introduction was followed by an impeccably groomed wizard
discussing the Daily Prophet’s top stories with a brassy looking witch who
appeared to be doing a remarkably good impression of an older Rita Skeeter with
pointier features, far too much make-up, and redder hair.
“That reminds me,” Harry whispered to Hermione as the announcers launched into
the first topic of the day, “I wonder where Rita Skeeter’s going to hide now. I
haven’t seen her since the battle with Voldemort...”
“That’s a good question Harry,” Hermione replied quietly. She shook her bushy
head in disbelief, “I still can’t get over her joining the Order. She’s in as
much trouble as the rest of us might be if the Minister catches her...”
Sitting next to Hermione, Luna couldn’t help overhearing.
“She’s working with Daddy now,” Luna murmured with a grin. “I found out after I
spoke to Daddy the other day... He told me that they’re working on a way to
break into the Wiz-Vision broadcast so that they can do their own pirate
broadcasts eventually. The Order bought a Wiz-Vision screen for them to
experiment on. It might take a while before they work it out though.”
“That’s brilliant!” Harry whispered excitedly. “That reminds me...”
“Harry!” Hermione hissed, tugging on his sleeve. Harry turned back to look at
the giant screen to see what had caught her attention.
“....Muggleborn Wizard Dick Turpentine was arrested by Aurors today on
suspicion of stealing wands,” the fabulously coiffed wizard announcer was
saying. “The investigation has been ordered to be turned over to the
Unspeakable Office in the Department of Mysteries by the Minister - as the
stolen wands were allegedly being distributed to muggles for their own use in
an apparent scheme to challenge the authority of the Ministry.”
“Surely not, William!” gasped the brassy witch co-anchor in clearly feigned
surprise. “How could a muggle possibly make use of a wand?”
“Ah, Endora... well, that is the million galleon question,” William the wizard
news-anchor replied. “And that is why Dick Turpentine has been turned over to
the Department of Mysteries for investigation.”
“Well, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour certainly can’t be happy about that...”
Endora the witch co-anchor responded. “Could this possibly explain some of the
recent statistics showing an uptick in the apparent birth of muggleborn
wizards?”
“Indeed, perhaps this is even related to the recent events at Hogwarts and the
second death of He-who-must-not-be-named,” William replied. “Who can be certain
until the investigation is completed? But surely it is an open question given
the muggleborn promoting proclivities of the headmaster...
“This could possibly even call into question the very notion of wizards ever
actually being sired by muggles. Could this be the culmination of a centuries
long conspiracy to breach the Statute of Secrecy by stealing wands and teaching
muggles how to use them? If so, then every so-called muggleborn is plausibly
suspect.”
Audible gasps of shock filled the Great Hall. Harry’s nostrils flared angrily;
he glanced at Hermione who was livid. Dora’s expression was nothing short of
murderous and Jennifer swallowed anxiously. Appalled glances were shared around
the Mingling Table by those who were aware of the circumstances surrounding
Jennifer’s recent “discovery” of her magical abilities.
“Well, William - that is certainly food for thought,” Endora said unctuously.
“And with that, we conclude the very first broadcast of WVN’s Morning News
Headlines in conjunction with the Daily Prophet. This has been Endora Le
Fay...”
“...And William O’Hannity! Bringing Fair and Balanced news to you daily,
because we’re looking out for you!” the wizard news anchor concluded
bombastically.
After the half hour news programme had finished, the screen displayed once
again Educational Decrees twenty three and twenty four. Except for a few
chortles from the Slytherin table, the Great Hall was silent.
All eyes turned to the Carrows whose countenances bore thin cruel smiles. Even
the headmaster turned to face them with the coldest expression Harry had ever
seen on Dumbledore’s visage... at least the coldest he had seen since the day
that Draco Malfoy had been arrested for the kidnapping and sexual assault of
Daphne’s sister Astoria.
Gradually a murmur filled the hall as the students resumed eating their
breakfasts and discussed the chilling turn of events. Many more students
glanced fearfully at the Carrows that morning.
Classes were subdued that day, and most of the Professors were all on edge, but
they did their best to reassure the students that the speculations of the
newscasters were entirely baseless and without merit.
History of Magic was the biggest surprise since breakfast though. Professor
Binns made not a single mention of Goblin Uprisings or Giant Wars. Instead, his
entire lesson was devoted to a lecture on the history of the accomplishments
and valiant deeds of muggleborn wizards.
Harry and Hermione were even more determined than ever to focus intently on
their subjects. After they both performed the Vanishing Charm flawlessly within
the first twenty minutes of practice, Professor Flitwick took them aside while
the rest of the class struggled - though Parvati and Jennifer both appeared to
be doing quite well.
“My word, Mr and Mrs Potter!” Professor Flitwick led the Potters from their
desks to a corner of the room away from the other students, speaking quietly so
as not to be overheard, “It would appear that your skills may outstrip the
current year’s syllabus. And I must say, I was quite impressed that you both
managed to hold your own during the battle against Voldemort.
“Why don’t you give me an idea of the charms you already know so that I can
teach you something more appropriate to your skill levels? Don’t bother with
listing the charms you have learned in my classes the last four years - I
already know that you are both highly proficient in those, and while they are
revised for each year’s level, I don’t doubt that you could both perform them
at OWL level were I to test you at this very moment.”
“Well... we both studied all the coursework for this year over the summer,”
said Hermione as she took a deep breath before she launched into a full speed
recitation. “And as you said, the fifth year spells are nearly all revisions of
charms from earlier years except for the Vanishing Charm and some of the combat
spells being introduced this year... But Harry and I already know those because
we practiced them with Professor Moody during the Triwizard Tournament...”
“Ah, yes, of course!” Flitwick interjected with a nod, “I recall Dumbledore
mentioning as much, and Mr Potter’s successful completion of the second and
third tasks was certainly an indication of his advancements. Alright then...
can I presume that you are both well acquainted with stunning and shielding...”
“...and Bombarda and Incendio...” said Hermione.
“...and the Reductor Curse and Aguamenti...” Harry continued.
“...and of course we practiced the advanced versions of those spells - Bombarda
Maxima, Protego Maxima, and Protego Totalum over the summer...” Hermione added.
“Not to mention that we can both perform Corporeal Patronuses... Professor
Lupin taught us in third year...”
“Good Lord! You can both produce Corporeal Patronuses?” Professor Flitwick
sputtered, his eyes bulging, “I knew that you had both had some training in the
basic Patronus shield, but Dumbledore never mentioned... though I suppose I
ought to have suspected...
“And most of the charms you have mentioned aren’t even taught until sixth and
seventh year.” The diminutive professor stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “Tell
me - have you either of you practiced performing any spells nonverbally?”
“Er... nonverbally?” Harry looked puzzled.
“I mean without saying the incantations out loud.”
“Oh... er... I do loads of them nonverbally,” responded Harry uncertainly,
“except for the Patronus Charm, I usually forget to say them out loud - I just
do a lot of the spells automatically without thinking once I've learned them.
Hermione does too... That’s alright isn’t it?”
“Wait, did you just say you simply forget to say them out loud?” Flitwick
looked a bit faint. “Yes... indeed! That’s perfectly appropriate Potter -
usually people have to learn how to ‘forget’ - in Sixth Year...”
“Professor Moody said you’d be pleased when you found out,” Hermione beamed.
She reached into her book bag and pulled out the “ridiculously advanced” Charms
book they had been reading and handed it to Professor Flitwick.
“We’ve also been studying the spells in here sir,” she continued. “We’re
working on Pictura Portus at the moment, but we’ve also been looking at the
Undetectable Extension Charm, and Protego Horribilis...”
“...and the Disillusionment Charm,” said Harry, grinning.
Professor Flitwick looked up from the thick book, smiling and nodding in
satisfaction. The Potters had been the most proficient pupils in his class that
he’d seen in a number of years, but he hadn’t been aware of quite how advanced
they had become since the Triwizard tournament had begun.
“Well, Potters... It would appear that it behooves me to create a structured
Independent Study syllabus for you both to follow, so you won’t have any gaps
in your knowledge as you move forward...”
Hermione basked in the glow of Flitwick’s praises the rest of the day, the
distress of the morning news forgotten. Harry was slightly less pleased as
Hermione seemed eager to regale all of their friends with an accounting of his
academic progress.
“...and the only class that Harry is still struggling in is Arithmancy,”
Hermione was proudly telling Lavender, Parvati, Daphne, Jennifer, Neville and
Hannah as they all made their way to the next class.
“Well, I doubt I’ll ever be any good at it,” Harry muttered, blushing furiously
and wishing that Hermione would shut-up. “I’ll just be happy if I can continue
to scrape Acceptables. And I’m not very good at Astronomy either.”
“Don’t be silly Harry - I’m sure you’ll eventually be getting E’s in
Arithmancy, and you’re doing just fine in Astronomy,” Hermione said airily. “It
doesn’t matter anyway. You’re advanced in many of the most important classes.
It’s no wonder that Remus and Sirius think you could easily take an extended
leave of absence from Hogwarts without damaging your academic record...”
“We’re both already doing sixth year Potions, you’re brilliant in Ancient
Runes, you should probably be in a seventh year Defence Against the Dark Arts
class, and you could easily pass your OWL’s in Transfigurations with an E...”
To Harry’s dismay, Hermione kept gushing about his prodigious skills and
exceptional study habits at every opportunity without pausing to take a breath.
Hermione didn’t stop until it was time for Amycus Carrow’s class.
The Inquisitor’s class was their last full period of the day. Amycus Carrow
held it in the Great Hall to accommodate the fifth year students of all the
Houses all at once. Professor Carrow oozed a malignant joy as he launched into
his lesson which focused on the Blood lineage of the most prominent pureblood
families in Britain.
Professor Amycus Carrow cast his gaze across the Great Hall, his eyes narrowing
and a thin sly smile creeping to his lips when he spied Harry Potter.
“Well, well... Here we all are!” the Inquisitor drawled, “Finally, at long
last, Hogwarts will be providing the knowledge which is necessary for a proper
appreciation of the Traditions and Heritage of our ancient wizarding culture.
“The Ministry believes that for far too long have those with less than full...
genetic potential been allowed to join wizard society with a less than adequate
respect for their superiors, and an unacceptably low level of understanding of
our Culture for complete assimilation...”
Hermione bristled angrily, and it took Harry an incredible amount of restraint
- every ounce of his will in fact - to prevent himself from objecting in a
furious outburst to Amycus Carrow’s vile rhetoric. He knew it would do nobody
any good to deliberately antagonise the Inquisitor.
Professor Carrow’s first lesson consisted mostly of an examination of the
Sacred Twenty Eight - those families which had been considered the most
Pureblood family lines of the surviving Pureblood Houses when the Pureblood
Directory had been created in the 1930’s.
Every student received an updated copy of the Directory to study, and the
lecture was accompanied by images on the Wiz-Vision screen of the most
important historical and current Heads of Houses, interspersed with diagrammes
of some of the family trees.
As Professor Carrow explained it, there were still roughly fifty Houses in
Britain, even today, but the Pureblood Directory only contained those whose
families were deemed the “Purest” for one reason or another.
Early drafts of the Directory which had been discovered, had apparently
contained 29 family names, and Professor Carrow seemed to relish revealing the
fact that - although they were one of the oldest lines - the Potter family had
been excluded by the time of publication due to their appalling lack of respect
for blood-status.
Amycus smirked nastily and looked right at Harry as Draco Malfoy and a number
of Slytherins chortled gleefully. Harry rolled his eyes and yawned to show that
he couldn’t care less. But he was interested to see that as the Directory had
originally been published in the 1930's, the Gaunt line appeared to end with a
question mark.
By all indications, Tom Riddle had chosen not to update the status of the Gaunt
Family with his name in order to hide the fact that his father had actually
been a muggle - a fact that was apparently only known to members of the Order
of the Phoenix, the Potters, and some of their friends. Harry whispered his
bemusement to Hermione.
“I expect only Wormtail knew,” Hermione quietly responded. “He was the only one
at Riddle Manor when he returned Voldemort to a proper body. I suppose
Voldemort could have told some of his followers too - like Bellatrix - but it’s
doubtful. Obviously he didn’t see fit to tell anyone at all during the first
war.”
Harry nodded and returned his attention to Mr Carrow’s lecture.
Decades had gone by with the Directory containing only the Sacred Twenty Eight.
A fair number of students looked thoroughly embarrassed to see their family
names included on the list, including Daphne, Neville, Ernie MacMillan, and
Hannah Abbott.
Harry wasn’t too surprised when Professor Carrow explained that the blood-
status of the Black Family and the Weasley family had recently been downgraded
to “Questionable” due to the “lack of respect” shown for their heritage by the
current Heads of those Houses. Harry knew that Sirius and Narcissa Black
wouldn’t care, and he presumed that Arthur Weasley didn’t give a rat’s arse
either.
“Hey Weaselby,” Draco taunted Ron under his breath, “How does it feel to be
disowned.”
“Shove it Malfoy!” Ron retorted bitterly. Ron honestly didn’t give a fig that
his family was known as blood-traitors, but he hated that Malfoy had another
piece of ammunition to goad him with. Ron hoped that the quidditch tryouts
after classes would improve his mood.
After they left the Great Hall, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy caught up with the
Potters, all peering around nervously to make sure that the rest of the
Slytherins had gone.
“Er... just thought you probably ought to know Harry,” said Theo, “I overheard
them... Draco and Crabbe and Goyle - they’ve been talking about how Dumbledore
must’ve given you a secret weapon to use against V...V...Voldemort’s army - and
they’ve been saying that they and the Carrows have been ordered to try and find
out what it is... by any means necessary....”
“But they’re biding their time for a bit,” Blaise added. “They’re just waiting
for the Minister to get around to removing Dumbledore...”
                                     ~o0o~
It was an excited Ron and Ginny who joined the Potters at the Mingling Table
that evening for dinner. Ron was accompanied by Seamus and Ginny by Luna, both
of whom looked quite proud of their respective companions. Fred and George
arrived too, apparently having got over their berating by Lavender who was
sitting with Viktor at the end of the table with a satisfied smile on her face.
“I can’t believe it Harry,” Ron gasped, “I actually made the Quidditch team
this year... I got the Keeper position.”
“I know - I was there... remember?” Harry grinned after listening to Ron for
the hundredth time. Ron had been repeating himself until he was almost hoarse,
still trying to process the amazing fact that he had made the team
“We can’t believe it either,” snorted Fred, “I don’t know what Angelina was
thinking...”
Ron and Ginny both glared, and George shot Fred a reproving look. Fred shut-up
immediately, an apologetic expression replacing the teasing one.
“Don’t listen to him, Ron,” said George kindly, “Fred’s only joking. We’re both
really proud of you - aren’t we Fred!?”
“Of course we are,” Fred hurriedly agreed. “Sorry Ron. Old habits... You’ve
been practicing really hard - you deserve it... really, I mean it!”
Ron looked mollified and nodded his acceptance of Fred’s apology.
“And I can’t believe that I’m going to be the Seeker this year,” Ginny
squealed.
“That’s bloody brilliant!” said Harry with a grin. He was really pleased that
Ron was finally getting his chance to shine at something. “I can’t wait to see
you both play in the first match...”
“I’m so thrilled for you both!” Hermione beamed.
Everyone around the table congratulated Ron and Ginny, and Ron was especially
pleased when Viktor Krum offered his praises.
“They’ll have to change the name of the team to Team Weasley...” Luna giggled.
“Too true!” George mused. “Mind you, not all of the Gryffindors are pleased
about that...”
“Too bad for McLaggen...” Fred laughed. “What an idiot! ... I can’t believe he
thought he stood a chance. Angelina hates him!”
“Towler accused Angelina of favouritism,” chimed in George. “Which is stupid,
because Ron and Ginny won their spots fair and square.”
“Who else ees on ze team?” Fleur asked politely.
“Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet are still on the team as Chasers,” Ginny
responded gleefully, “That’s why I didn’t bother to try out for that position.
But it means for the first time in fifteen years the girls will outnumber the
boys - according to McGonagall.”
Fred made a face and rolled his eyes, but then he grinned and winked to show
that he was just joking.
George gave Ron a serious look. “Of course that means you’ll have to be on your
best behaviour Ron.”
“I’ll do my best t’be nice...” Ron mumbled, swallowed nervously, his ears
turning pink. “I promise!”
                                     ~o0o~
The rainy week had cleared up by Saturday, leaving naught but a few puffy white
clouds scudding across the sky. The cheerful morning sun glimmered on the
surface of the Black Lake as some ducks dove for fish. Harry peered around to
make sure that they were still alone, and shared a look with Hermione before
turning back to Viktor, Lavender, and Cedric and Cho.
“... And whatever happens Harry, you can count on me,” Cedric was saying as he
smiled sincerely. “I’m in! I’ll start training some of the other Hufflepuffs -
but only the ones I’m sure of - and Cho of course. And we’ll give Padma and a
few of the other Ravenclaws as much help as we can to form their own defence
team as well.”
“Excellent! Thanks loads Cedric,” said Harry, returning his smile. “Hermione,
Dora, and I have our hands full as it is. This’ll make it easier for Susan and
Padma if they can train with you a bit too during the week... And it’ll be much
safer for all of us to work in small groups when it’s most convenient -
especially given our different schedules...
“The Twins are fast learners. I’m sure they’ll be able to pick up enough on the
weekends with us to pass it on to the Gryffindors the rest of the week. I don’t
know how much time we have before the Minister makes her next big play - but
I’m sure she’ll try to gin up a good excuse to sack Dumbledore sooner or later.
“After that, all bets are off on how long we have before she comes after me and
Hermione. So we’ll just have to train up as many trustworthy people as best as
we can in the meantime. And don’t forget - protecting muggleborn students are
the top priority once Dumbledore’s gone...
“I don’t think the Minister is keen on harming any purebloods - and she’s more
concerned about halfbloods ‘knowing their place’ than doing them in,” Harry
concluded.
“Except for Harry... and anyone who openly tries to help us of course!”
Hermione exclaimed crossly.
                                     ~o0o~
Following lunch the Potters and their friends made their way to the Room of
Requirement through the drafty stone corridors, carefully avoiding being
spotted by the Carrows thanks to the Marauders’ Map.
“Wicked Harry!” Fred grinned when he saw the training room for the first time.
“Isn’t it though?” said Ginny, “We’ve been training here with Harry and
Hermione since before the Third Task of the Triwiz.”
“This is bloody brilliant!” said George in an awed tone, “We had no idea this
room even existed.” Fred and George peered at Ginny with admiration, seeing her
with new eyes.
“Good on you oh sister of ours - you’ve done the Weasley name proud...” said
Fred.
“You managed to keep Harry and Hermione’s secret good and proper...” George
continued. “Not to mention helping to fight the Noseless Wonder’s army...”
“Dad and Bill didn’t even tell us that,” Fred sniggered. “I suppose he didn’t
want to alarm Mum. She’d scream blue murder if she ever found out.”
“Anyway - remember, you’ve got to keep this a secret,” Harry warned. “It
wouldn’t do for the Carrows, or any of the cretins like Malfoy or McLaggen to
find out about the Room of Requirement.”
“Don’t worry Harry. You can trust us,” Padma promised as she gave him a hug.
“I know I can,” Harry said, his face reddening. “I just meant to make sure
you’re careful that no-one sees you when you meet us here...”
“And thanks for inviting us,” Susan Bones beamed and threw her arms around
Harry too, giving him a kiss on the cheek as his blush deepened. “Hermione told
me that we were the only ones you trusted enough to let us in on everything.”
“So, where do we start, Harry?” George asked.
“Well... I reckoned probably with a few muggle fighting techniques,” said Harry
with a grin. Ten minutes later, Fred and George were both laid out, sprawled on
the mat.
“Bloody Hell Harry! I hurt all over,” groaned George. “What did Mad Eye and
Dora teach these girls?”
“Just a few tricks we picked up in muggle gyms,” Dora chuckled. “Mad Eye’s one
of the few Aurors to bother makin’ the effort. Only those ‘oo trained under ‘im
at boot-camp really know how t’do it.”
“Remind me never to prank this lot,” Fred moaned at his twin as he looked up at
Ginny and Daphne from the floor.
“Are you alright?” asked Daphne, worry etched on her features. “I’m sorry... I
didn’t mean to hurt you. I held back as much as possible.”
George guffawed. “Blimey, if that was you two holding back, I never want to be
on your bad sides! Some Beaters we are... if Oliver could see us now, he’d cut
us from the team.”
“That’s why we're lucky Angelina’s captain of the team this year...” muttered
Fred.
“Nice work on Fred, Daphne,” giggled Ginny. “And I never thought I’d see the
day that I could clobber Fred or George at anything.”
“Très bien Ginny, Daphne,” Fleur tittered.
“Don’t worry. We’ll focus on combat spells tomorrow,” said Harry
sympathetically. “It’s good to know a few muggle fighting techniques too
though. Once you’re halfway decent, you should start training some of the other
Gryffindors.”
Following the practice in the Room of Requirement, Harry spent the next two
hours painting Runes and Chinese symbols on his wife and their friends in the
Unaffiliated Common Room, minus the newest recruits who had returned to their
respective dorms.
Neville chose to be inked first, knowing what was coming next. He fled as soon
as Harry was finished with him, and Viktor followed soon after.
Harry grinned when all of the girls stripped off their blouses revealing their
undergarments, ready to be tattooed. Apparently modesty was a thing of the past
in the completely private Unaffiliated common room. Hermione smirked, thinking
that perhaps the others had decided that Harry should be considered an honorary
“girl” since seeing him morph into one, and no doubt hoping to hold him to
Harriet’s promise of a fashion show. Lavender blushed, but seemed comfortable
enough to remove her shirt when she saw that the other girls were alright with
it.
“I visited Remus and Sirius earlier today,” said Dora as Harry inked her last.
“Remus told me I should teach you lot ‘ow to apparate seein’ as he can’t come
up to the Castle at the moment...”
“I spoke to Dumbledore about it,” she continued, “and he says we can practice
in the Room of Requirement. We won’t be able to go beyond the Room of course,
but ‘e says the Room’s magic should allow us to apparate from one spot to
another within its confines.”
Harry’s brows furrowed in thought. “Alright... it looks like we’ll be spending
a lot of time in the Room of Requirement on the weekends then. We can practice
apparating in the mornings. I’ll tell the Twins and Padma and Susan to come for
training in the afternoons just after lunch.”
“Sounds like a plan Harry,” Dora agreed.
Harry looked around when he heard the piano, spying Hermione and Jennifer both
playing together. He smiled when he heard Parvati’s lilting voice joining in.
Luna, Ginny, Fleur, and Daphne had finally managed to convince Parvati to sing
for everyone after ganging up on her.
Harry thought he recognised the tune as a particularly soulful Celtic folk song
that Aunt Petunia would often listen to when Vernon wasn’t around. The only
time he could remember Petunia ever listening to music was when Uncle Vernon
had been at work.
She had been particularly fond of folk music and opera which Uncle Vernon had
despised. Harry felt his eyes grow watery as the memories mingled with the
present, not entirely sure why. He took off his glasses and wiped his blurry
eyes so that he could see properly to finish tattooing Dora.
“Cor!” Dora marveled. “Parvati’s got a lovely singin’ voice... and I ‘ad no
idea that Hermione could play the piano too.”
“Yeah, Hermione just started playing again recently,” Harry said creakily. He
cleared his throat. “...She’s really good.”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry was worn out and thought that he and Hermione might spend the rest of the
afternoon lazing around a bit, but Hermione apparently had other ideas. Shortly
after he’d finished inking everyone, Hermione dragged him to the unused
classroom - now storeroom - which had contained the Mirror of Erised.
He assumed that they would be practicing the Pictura Portus Charm on the
paintings stored within. But Harry’s assumption wasn’t entirely correct. While
making certain that the door was well and truly locked, Harry felt Hermione’s
arms entwine around his waist and her chin on his shoulder as she began to
nuzzle his neck.
Harry turned around, smirking when he realised that Hermione had other plans,
and returned her affections. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry caught a
glimpse of a sunny meadow - grasses and wildflowers waving in the breeze,
cotton ball clouds sweeping across the sky - by a glistening blue lake in the
painting behind Hermione as their kisses grew more heated. Lips parting wetly
from hers to take a breath, Harry had to ask.
“Er... what’s up Hermione? Why are snogging in here?”
“Because we’re celebrating, Harry,” she replied with a naughty golden gleam in
her eyes. “I’ve done it... I finally managed to perform the Pictura Charm and I
thought we should test it out properly... by continuing this inside the
landscape painting...”
Harry’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “That’s an absolutely brilliant idea
Hermione! Let’s give it a go then...”
Hermione chanted the incantation and performed the intricate wand movements.
The surface of the painting began to shimmer. Taking Harry’s hand, Hermione
stepped into the frame and giddily pulled him through.
Moments later they were rolling around in the golden meadow, shedding clothes
as their passions intensified. One hand behind Harry’s head and the other
pressing into the small of his back, Hermione parted her thighs for him as she
reclined on the painted ground.
Cradling one of Hermione’s bottom cheeks with a hand while the other encircled
a breast, Harry slid his length inside her. Hermione cried out, gasping as he
rocked her. It wasn’t long before the fervor took them both, sweeping them away
in a torrent of ecstasy. With a groan, Harry emptied himself into Hermione’s
depths as she trembled in the throes of bliss.
When they were finished, Hermione sighed in contentment, snuggled under one of
Harry’s arms, a hand caressing his bare chest. They lay together in the field
of long golden grasses and purple wildflowers by the shimmering deep-blue water
of the lake, basking under the bright sun.
It felt amazingly lifelike even though every brush-stroke was visible in every
blade of grass which surrounded the Potters’ naked figures, and in every ripple
on the surface of the lake. A large wooden frame hung in mid-air nearby,
through which they could both still see the unused classroom on the other side.
The only other thing besides the painted textures of their surroundings which
made it obvious that the apparently three dimensional world they were in wasn’t
quite “real,” was the fact that to either side of the frame the world faded
into a colourless blankness at an angle concomitant to the perspective at which
it had been painted. It was as if they were inside a life-size diorama - the
snowcapped mountains behind the rolling green foothills even appeared to be
quite some distance away.
“I reckon we could keep walking that direction and climb those mountains
Hermione,” Harry marveled. “I suppose there’s no backside to them though...”
“I think you’re right Harry - it would seem that each painting is a finite
space only containing whatever was in the visual field that the painter could
fit onto the canvas. I expect if we walked off into the blank bits of space at
the sides, we’d emerge into the ‘world’ of the next nearest picture in the
classroom, just like the wizard portraits do.”
“It would be really weird if this was a lot less realistic picture - like a
cartoon,” Harry mused.
Hermione giggled. “That wouldn’t be so bad. Can you imagine being inside an
Impressionist, the later period ones I mean - or even worse - a Cubist
painting?”
Harry thought back to some of the paintings in the London art museums that he
had been to with Hermione and his mind boggled.
“Er... some of those Post-Impressionist ones like some of van Gogh’s would be
really interesting actually - Starry Night would be amazing - but Cubist...
no... definitely not! I think I’d go mad inside a Picasso. I wonder if someone
saw us in a painting though, would we look like we were painted in the style of
the painting too?” Harry wondered.
Hermione thought for a moment, imagining herself as a Monet girl, or even a
Renoir nude. She began to flush and her nipples perked again at the very idea.
“Well... have a really good look at me Harry,” Hermione giggled again as she
shimmied her breasts in front of Harry’s face. “Do you see any paintbrush-
strokes?”
Harry grinned, tickling Hermione's ribs. As she shrieked with laughter he
captured the pink tips of Hermione’s bouncing little globes with his fingers
and shook his head.
“Only the ones that I painted on you myself,” he replied with a chuckle as he
eyed the Runic and Chinese symbol tattoos. “Shame really... you’d be a gorgeous
Early Impressionist painting Hermione...”
Hermione beamed radiantly. Harry suddenly found himself in another heated
embrace with Hermione atop him amidst the painted grasses and wildflowers...
***** Chapter 55: The End of the Line: Part 1 *****
Of all the Unaffiliated, Harry’s sense of premonition was perhaps the most
finely attuned. He woke with a start the morning following the quidditch match,
his heart pounding. Casting his eyes towards the window, he noticed that the
cold light of dawn had a wintry hue. Crookshanks yawned and peered at Harry
with amber eyes. He climbed onto Harry’s chest where he lay for a few moments
and purred as if to tell Harry to go with his gut instincts. Then Crookshanks
jumped off and trotted out of the room.
Harry put on his slippers and dressing gown, got out of bed and padded over to
the window. Sure enough, a thick blanket of white lay upon the ground and the
snow was coming down in heavy flurries. Hermione stirred, reaching out an arm
to put around Harry. When she found nobody in the bed beside her she opened her
bleary eyes and yawned, spying Harry staring out of the window.
“Mmm... Harry, it’s still early and it’s Sunday. Why don’t you come back to
bed!? ... Harry? ... Earth to Harry!”
“Hunh...? Oh, Hermione - you’re awake. Sorry!”
“Come back to bed Harry. Are you alright?”
“Er... yeah! I’m okay I s’pose. I’m just feeling a bit out of sorts...
Something bad is going to happen soon - I just know it! I think we should start
getting ready to do a bunk.”
“I agree Harry,” Hermione sighed. Then she gave Harry a naughty smile and
pulled her nightie over her head. “But I think we’ve got a bit of time left...”
Harry's brooding look was replaced with a lopsided grin. He couldn’t resist the
sight of Hermione undressed and felt a stiffness tenting his pyjama bottoms. He
pounced back onto the bed eagerly between Hermione’s open legs, tugging off his
pyjamas. He planted little kisses along her inner thighs until he reached her
inflamed vulva.
Hermione let out a little gasp of pleasure and wrapped her thighs around
Harry’s head as his tongue darted between her pink folds, seeking out the
fleshy pearl hidden within. Hermione’s humid sheath contracted when his wet
tongue entered her. Harry's tongue alternated between flicking Hermione’s
little nubbin and delving inside her.
“Oh... ah... oh!” Hermione squeaked, feeling the first tremors of ecstasy
rippling through her. Harry continued his ministrations without pausing to
allow Hermione time to recover.
She climaxed twice in rapid succession, and as the third wave of bliss swept
her away Hermione registered Harry trailing his kisses up across her belly - up
along her ribcage. She felt his hands on her breasts, kneading, his lips
reaching and encircling first one of her tender pink peaks and then the other.
Harry alternated sucking each nipple as he continued to massage Hermione’s firm
little globes. Hermione squealed when the fourth orgasm rocked her. Still lost
in the throes of euphoria she felt the crown of Harry’s erection nestled in her
sopping entrance.
With one jerk of his loins, Harry was inside her. She felt his lance plunge to
her depths, building up a steady rhythm. Her hips moved, meeting his thrusts as
he continued to rock her. The cascading tide of ardour flooded Hermione again
when she felt Harry stiffening, then convulsively erupting, filling her chamber
with his essence in rapid pulses as he groaned.
Harry and Hermione gave themselves over to the maelstrom of passion which
swirled around them, the magic crackling and arcing in a dazzling rainbow of
colours, shaking the bedroom - both falling into oblivion upon completion. As
Hermione came to in Harry’s arms she showered him with little kisses - happy to
see him looking more relaxed.
“Thanks Harry! That was nice... I feel much better now.”
“Yeah... me too!” Harry grinned. “I think we both needed that.”
The Potters shared a hot bath before dressing and getting on with their day. An
hour and a half later they were in the Room of Requirement for a confab with
their friends, making arrangements for any potential set of circumstances.
“...and so we’ll probably be needing a distraction,” said Harry after laying
out the general plan.
“...Distractions are our speciality,” Fred told Harry, grinning. “We’ll have
the mayhem ready as ordered Harry...”
“...Just give us the word,” George added cheerily.
“Right then,” said Dora, “As a teacher’s assistant Fleur can stick with you lot
through all of your classes. I’ll manage to be around in one form or another
and we’ll stay in contact with the mirrors.”
“Excellent!” said Harry, nodding in agreement. “Any of us who are going should
stick close together. That could be an issue for you Luna if you’re still
coming with us...”
“Of course I’m coming, Harry!” said Luna firmly. “I said I would and I meant
it! Just mirror-call me when it’s time... Are you sure you won’t join us
Ginny?”
“I wish I could,” Ginny moaned. “But we can’t risk it with the Trace on me. I’d
just give you lot away. Don’t worry Luna, I’ll be fine... really! Percy still
seems to like me and I doubt the Carrows will want to risk upsetting him.”
“Okay,” said Harry, “Now what about you Parvati? You’d probably be relatively
safe here too. I know you don’t have the Trace on you anymore, but you don’t
have to come with us...”
“I’ve made up my mind,” said Parvati, “I’m going with you and Hermione too.”
“And of course Daphne and Jennifer are coming too,” said Hermione. “That just
leaves you and Hannah, Neville. You’re both pureblood so you should be safe as
long as you keep your head down. Promise me that you and Hannah won’t do
anything rash while we’re gone...”
“Erm... yeah!” said Neville uncertainly. “I promise, Hermione.”
Harry raised his eyebrows, detecting a hint of ambivalence in Neville’s tone.
Neville glanced away. Harry shook his head and sighed, hoping that Hannah would
keep Neville in line. For all of Neville’s generally mellow nature and rocky
self-confidence, Harry knew that Neville had a headstrong streak in him not
altogether unlike his own.
                                     ~o0o~
The Potters were rather surprised when they found Mr Carrow sitting in on
Potions Class on Monday with his clipboard. For once Mr Carrow seemed to be
relatively satisfied, looking bored if anything, and apparently seeing little
to criticise in Snape. Professor Snape appeared as inscrutable as ever,
seemingly doing his best to ignore Amycus Carrow.
The atmosphere of the classroom, often heavy with steam and smells, was thick
with the almost unbearable clouds of smugness emanating from Draco Malfoy.
Harry and Hermione shared a look. Hermione shook her head and they returned
their attention to the potion which they were working on.
At the end of the lesson when Malfoy turned in his potion, Snape was forced to
acknowledge him. Draco, never particularly good at keeping his thoughts or mood
in check at the best of times, could barely contain his glee. Snape’s dark eyes
glittered angrily as he watched Draco depart the dungeon classroom, following
the Inquisitor.
Professor Snape spied the Potters looking at him with concern, and for a moment
they could almost discern him trying to imperceptibly communicate with them.
Then Snape’s walls went up and the door to his mind slammed shut.
Silently, Harry turned in the potion which he and Hermione had been working on.
He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Snape, but the Potions professor said
nothing.
“What do you think that was all about Hermione?” Harry quietly asked her as
they left the dungeon, falling slightly behind Daphne, Parvati, and Jennifer.
“It seemed like something was up between him and Malfoy.”
“I think you’re right Harry,” Hermione replied with nearly a whisper. “I’m not
sure how much longer Snape is going to be teaching Potions. Professor Slughorn
may have to fill in after all...”
“Blimey... are you serious?” Harry’s blood ran cold. “I would have thought they
were going after Dumbledore first...”
“I think they still are Harry...” Worry crossed Hermione’s features. “This was
something else... definitely something to do with Malfoy, like you said. Snape
must have read Draco’s mind. There’s no way to know what Snape saw though.”
Harry considered the possibilities and his features darkened. There was only
one thing which made any sense him.
“Narcissa Black... Lucius Malfoy is going to try and get revenge on her for
leaving him. I just know it! And Snape means to stop him... even if he has to
kill him!”
“You might be right Harry...” Hermione bit her lip and peered at Harry
thoughtfully, wondering if he’d somehow naturally picked up a bit of
Legilimency.
                                     ~o0o~
As he watched his students leaving the Potions classroom, Severus Snape hoped
that the Potters’ latent abilities - which all humans had, even muggles - were
enough to pick up at least the gist of the information which he had been trying
to convey without tipping off Draco Malfoy or Amycus Carrow that he had gleaned
an inkling of what was to come from their minds.
Of the two, Snape suspected that Harry’s natural skill level as a legilimens
was more advanced, due to having a modicum of practice given his connection to
the now defunct Dark Lord. On the other hand, Mrs Potter’s mind was more
focused and disciplined giving her a clear advantage as a legilimens.
In any case, that wasn’t what concerned him the most at the moment. Severus
swallowed anxiously as he pondered the efficacy of the Protection Charms which
warded Narcissa Black’s estate. He reached into his desk for his mirror,
briefly considering the irony of using a device based on the ones owned by
Sirius Black and James Potter. They had quickly become a ubiquitous item among
Order members once Dumbledore had reverse-engineered those belonging to the
Marauders.
Snape tapped the mirror, uttering a name, “Filius Flitwick.”
“Ah... Severus, I was hoping to have a chance to speak with you today,” the
diminutive Charms Master responded moments later. “I wanted to confer with you
regarding the Potters - to be certain that we are all providing them the tools
which they will undoubtedly require in the very near future.”
“Quite,” the Potions Master said drily. “Well, you shall have ample opportunity
Filius. If you would be so kind as to meet me at Narcissa Black’s Estate after
classes today. I wish to appraise and fortify the Protection Charms...”
“Of course,” Filius Flitwick replied without hesitation. “It is imperative that
the Order maintain top notch security for our meeting place.”
“It is more than that...” Severus began stiffly. He paused uncomfortably, still
unused to discussing things which reflected on his personal feelings with his
colleagues, even insofar as he had come to consider some of them friends. “I
believe that Madam Black - Narcissa - she is in danger...”
“I see,” Filius regarded Severus’s pained countenance gravely.
When Severus was no longer forthcoming, Filius was certain that the Potions
Master was holding back on some information, still too reticent to completely
reveal himself. But Filius Flitwick was no intellectual slouch. It was clear
enough from Snape’s expression that he intended to personally kill Lucius
Malfoy if the opportunity presented itself... and that the Potions Master
believed the opportunity to be imminent.
                                     ~o0o~
Severus Snape awoke with a start. He sensed that it was well after midnight,
but he knew immediately that something wasn’t right. At the conclusion of the
Quidditch match on Saturday, Severus had been left with a deeply unsettled
feeling. But not because the team of the House for which he was the Master had
lost the match.
To the contrary, he had felt a measure of satisfaction at the outcome. No,
Severus had been disturbed because he had discerned that events were coming to
a head. And now... now he sensed that someone else was in the room with him.
“Light!” Severus muttered, and the warm glow of the bedside lamp lit part of
the room, casting eerie shadows. A tall figure stepped out of the darkness.
Snape’s eyes widened in recognition of the lanky wizard with long platinum
blond hair pointing his wand at him. Wildly, Severus looked around for
Narcissa, but she was nowhere to be seen in the bedchamber.
“Looking for someone?” snarled Lucius Malfoy, “My treacherous bitch of a wife
perhaps?”
“She is no longer yours,” Severus said coldly as he quelled his disquiet. “Your
loss was of your own making...”
“Perhaps so, old friend,” Lucius hissed sarcastically through gritted teeth.
“And perhaps I shall make her mine again - if only to show her the true meaning
of pain...”
“Where is she?” Severus asked calmly as he stared into Lucius’s glacial blue
eyes. “What have you done with her?”
“Oh, nothing yet,” replied Lucius evenly. He tapped his temple with his
forefinger. “And don’t bother looking here. You will not find anything without
your wand. My defences are strong.”
Severus cursed inwardly. Lucius was correct; Snape could not break through
those walls without his wand. But there was something off about Lucius Malfoy’s
demeanor.
“You don’t even have her, do you?” Severus raised an eyebrow.
Lucius faltered slightly, wondering if his old friend’s abilities were more
prodigious than he had believed. Lucius snorted.
“Heh, she will be mine again soon enough,” sneered the elder Malfoy, “Narcissa
cannot evade Warlock Nott and the others for long. And after we find her, I
shall... no... we shall teach her a lesson that she will never forget, and
then... then I shall put an end to her miserable life... and your own as well!”
Severus couldn’t help himself; his nostrils flared and a hiss of anger escaped.
If only he had his wand.
“How did you get in?” he asked, stalling for time as he reached out with his
mind to locate and retrieve his wand.
“These old manors all have secret passages,” Lucius sneered, “It wasn’t
difficult to find an entrance with the right spells at my fingertips. Now get
up... slowly...”
Snape sighed. Of course there were hidden tunnels which linked the estate to
the outside world, and plausibly one which even Narcissa had never been aware
of.
“I suppose you have my wand already,” Severus muttered as he slowly climbed out
of bed and pulled on his trousers. “...No doubt hidden in your robes. Quite
stealthy of you I must say... How long have you been here?”
“Not long... but long enough,” Lucius smirked. “And nice try, old friend, but
you shan’t be overpowering me and reclaiming your wand - I gave it to Cassius
to hold onto. Now move... we’re going to take a little walk and we’re going to
find my ex-wife!”
At Lucius Malfoy’s wandpoint, Severus silently traipsed through the Manor House
from room to room looking for Narcissa, and he dared to hope that she had
already escaped. Perhaps she had got up to relieve herself and discovered that
her home had been invaded.
“Well, somewhere on the grounds perhaps!” Lucius exclaimed wearily, “No
matter... she shall not evade me forever. Come on - outside!”
As the clouds above parted, the cold moonlight cast a pearly glow across the
otherwise shadowed estate. The blades of grass felt crisp and frosty under
Severus Snape’s bare feet, and the bitter chill of the night air crawled across
his shirtless torso, raising goosebumps. Nearly fifteen minutes passed as the
pair strolled across the lawn and through the gardens. A rustling sound at the
end of a hedgerow caught both of their attentions.
“There you are Mr Malfoy... Sir!” said a pleased looking Snatcher with a shaved
head. “We got ‘er... just around the corner. Me an’ Bob an’ your mate, Mr
Nott... we caught ‘er tryin’ to get outta the gate not five minutes ago.”
“Very good...” a cruel smirk crept to Lucius Malfoy’s lips, “It would appear
that the Minister’s recruitment efforts were not in vain. I must admit I had
misgivings about the Minister’s plan to bring you and your... compatriots...
into the fold.”
“Yeah... I s’pose so,” snorted the hooligan clad in leather jacket, chains, and
blue jeans. “Well, not alla us managed ta graduate from ‘ogwarts. But that don’
mean we didn’ learn nuffink... We know enough ta get by and make our way in the
world quite comfortably really...”
The three wizards stepped around the corner of the hedge and spied two more
wizards holding a witch in a nightgown at wandpoint further down the path.
“Severus,” moaned Narcissa, “I had hoped you might have escaped...”
“And I... you,” sighed the Potions Master as he struggled to maintain control
of his breathing and heart-rate.
“Yes... yes, this is all very touching, I must say!” Lucius sneered. “Much more
intimate than I have experienced with my dear wife in some years... Well, I
think I will enjoy a moment of ‘intimacy’ with you myself before I make our
goodbye permanent... Narcissa...
“And no doubt these fine young lads and Cassius would like to join in the fun.
Severus, you can watch. But first, Narcissa, perhaps a taste of the punishment
which is to follow...”
Severus regarded the Snatcher named Bob, and Nott with a keen eye. There was
something about the elder Nott which seemed odd - almost beseeching. Severus
peered deeper into Warlock Nott’s unblinking eyes.
Cassius Nott had learned through the Minister that his son had been “captured”
by Dumbledore, and been given some measure of reprieve. Pleased that Theodore
had taken the opportunity to escape and had been given safe haven at Hogwarts
by the headmaster, Cassius knew that his own time to redeem himself had finally
arrived. Opening his mind wide, Cassius allowed Snape to see all that he needed
to see.
Lucius raised his wand and pointed it at Narcissa. “Crucio...” he incanted, and
Narcissa fell to the ground screaming in agony.
Then something happened which Lucius had not anticipated. Cassius flung Snape’s
wand into the air and fired a green bolt of lightning from his own wand at the
Snatcher beside him. For a very brief moment shock halted Lucius in his tracks.
In that instant, Severus summoned his wand from midair as the Snatcher named
Bob fell dead. Lucius Malfoy recovered himself at the same time, his eyes still
on Nott.
“TRAITOR!” roared Lucius, a green arc of magic leaping from the end of his own
wand towards Cassius Nott.
Cassius collapsed to the ground. As the light went out in Warlock Nott’s eyes,
and his last rattling breath escaped his lips, his final thought was for the
safety of his wife and his son.
Enraged, Lucius whirled around to face Severus, but it was already too late.
The bald-headed Snatcher beside him already lay dead, and the green lightning
from Snape’s wand struck Lucius in the chest.
Severus Snape stood stock still for a moment, hardly believing what had
occurred in such a short space of time. His nostrils flared as he felt a swell
of satisfaction at ending the life of one who had been present for the murder
of Lily Potter. With the Dark Lord, MacNair, and Wormtail dead also, Severus’s
eternal beloved was finally avenged in full.
The sound of sobbing brought Snape back from his brief reverie and he was
reminded that there was one who still needed him, one whom he had come to care
for more deeply than he had thought possible.
“Narcissa,” he murmured, kneeling down beside her and taking her in his arms.
Severus held the weeping witch to his bare chest as her pain from the Cruciatus
Curse ebbed, pressing his lips to her forehead. The night no longer seemed cold
as Severus felt Narcissa’s warmth stir near his beating heart. Narcissa was
alive and that was all that mattered.
As the world around them faded, Severus lost track of the passage of time.
Never had he believed that another could possibly make him feel as Lily had.
Severus had thought himself destined to wallow in bitterness and loneliness to
the very end of his days.
Severus knew then that somehow, through Lily’s son and her daughter-in-law, he
had been given a second chance at living and love - a chance to get it right.
He had been given a second opportunity to care about another, and to put their
life and their suffering before his own.
Severus had no idea how long he had been holding Narcissa when he felt her wet
cheeks and her lips against his. They shared a deep kiss, and when they parted,
gazed into each other’s eyes as he brushed the strands of hair from her
glistening lashes.
Slowly Severus helped Narcissa to her feet and they turned their attention to
the four bodies which lay before them as reality intruded on their interlude.
They both regarded the fallen Malfoy coldly, but Severus sensed a stab of
regret course through Narcissa.
“Severus, what are we to do? My son...”
“...was quite aware of his father’s designs, I can assure you,” Snape murmured.
“I wish it were not so. But when I witnessed the plans of Lucius for you in his
mind... I saw nothing but the savage joy of vengeance in Draco’s heart.”
Severus felt Narcissa flinch as she released another sob, and gave her another
sorrowful kiss.
“Perhaps... Draco might come around... if he knew his father is dead...”
Narcissa said hopefully.
“No doubt he will soon enough,” sighed the Potions Master, “but it shall only
further harden his heart.”
With one final look, Snape waved his wand and blankets covered the bodies.
“These can wait until morning. We can make a decision after Dumbledore inspects
the scene. For now, it would perhaps be best if we returned to bed.”
                                     ~o0o~
Under the grey skies of dawn five wizards examined the tableau as a sprinkle of
rain began to patter on the graveled path beside the hedgerow. Severus conjured
an umbrella and held it over Narcissa.
“Never thought scum like Nott had it in him,” snorted Alastor Moody. “Comin’
round like that in the end. Good for him!”
“Indeed!” Dumbledore replied, his voice grave. “For which I am most grateful -
Severus and Narcissa might not be standing among us now otherwise.”
“So, what should we do with them Albus?” asked Madam Bones uncomfortably,
gesturing towards the dead. “We cannot simply turn their bodies over to the
Ministry under current circumstances, nor can we allow Severus to be arrested.
And yet...”
“I quite agree Amelia,” Dumbledore nodded, stroking his long white beard which
was dampening as the raindrops continued to fall. “It would be most uncivilised
to dispose of them without any regard for human decency. For now, perhaps it
would be best to simply preserve them in the estate’s mausoleum until such a
time as we can arrange for proper burials... if Narcissa would not mind.”
“Of course Albus...” Narcissa quickly agreed. “It would be fitting.”
She swallowed as she regarded her ex-husband’s corpse. As much as she had come
to revile him, Narcissa could not forget that at one time - before his eager
contributions to the horrors of the first war had come between them - she had
grown to love him. And she recalled the hope that had come with the birth of
her son, a hope that now seemed broken beyond repair.
“And my son - Draco - should he be told?” Narcissa raised her eyebrows, a tear
trickling down one cheek.
She already knew the answer. Severus had shown her what he had seen in Draco’s
mind in her Pensieve before the arrival of Dumbledore. But she still found it
difficult to accept in her heart how completely her son had disavowed her.
Narcissa had seen the flashes of Draco’s abhorrent imaginings of gleefully
participating in her punishment for betraying the Malfoy “Honour,” and the pain
cut her to the bone.
“I am afraid we cannot, Narcissa,” sighed the headmaster. “Not without putting
us all in great jeopardy. No doubt, the Minister shall presume that Lucius is
dead, and shall inform young Draco herself - and I also have no doubt that the
Minister will suspect the involvement of someone close to you- most likely
Severus.
“In which case, I believe it best if Severus remained with you here, where it
is completely safe now that we have determined how Lucius and his companions
gained entrance to the estate and sealed it. It would not do for the Carrows to
detain Severus and turn him over to the Minister.”
Dumbledore glanced at Snape; the Potions Master sighed, having suspected as
much. Still, it was a welcome price to pay for the death of Lucius Malfoy.
Severus could not imagine a more gilded cage, to be shared with someone whom he
had come to love.
“I understand Headmaster,” Snape remarked resignedly. “But Madam Nott deserves
to see what I saw in Warlock Nott’s mind before he sacrificed himself... She
needs to know the truth of his passing, and of what his hopes were for his
family’s future. I must visit her briefly, and reveal to her what I witnessed
in his consciousness. Then I shall come back here and remain with Narcissa.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore agreed. “But I must insist that Alastor and Amelia
accompany you to make certain that you are returned safely.”
                                     ~o0o~
She stirred in several more spoonfuls of sugar, added a dollop of cream, and
sipped her third cup of tea as she waited, growing more and more impatient as
the morning wore on.
A feeling of doom gnawed in the pit of Minister Dolores Umbridge’s stomach when
Lucius and his raiding party had not victoriously returned. Instinctively, the
Minister knew something had gone wrong. Her nostrils flared as a spark of rage
caught flame. If Lucius or any members of the raiding party had still been
alive, at the very least he would have sent the Snatchers back to the Ministry
with a message for her. But only one memo had arrived by floo - and it was on a
completely unrelated but no less disturbing matter.
The idea of Dolores’s beautiful man laying lifeless somewhere was almost
unbearable. It would be far too much to say that she had loved Lucius; she
trusted him not at all, and knew that he did not trust her. Such was the nature
of those drawn to Power and Control above all else. But Dolores had always
liked pretty things, and Lucius had been very pretty indeed... not to mention
extremely useful.
They had both shared the same goals after all, and had both been working on
Cornelius Fudge, the previous Minister, to turn him against Albus Dumbledore
since the day that Harry Potter had first turned up at Hogwarts after having
been hidden from the wizard world for ten years. Their partnership had been
mutually beneficial in more ways than one... particularly once she had taken
Lucius into her home. Lucius had shown his gratitude in a most desirous manner.
And to add to Dolores's distress, it had just been brought to her attention
that Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour had surreptitiously reopened Amelia Bones’s
investigation into the Minister’s activities. The Minister had no idea who the
lead investigator was, but it didn’t matter - the investigation could not
stand.
Hands shaking with fury, the Minister began to scribble a memo to the lead
Auror of a team that she knew was loyal to her, and her alone, directing him to
send investigators to Wiltshire immediately. Dolores couldn’t bring herself to
go to her office at the Ministry today. And she could deal with Rufus later;
for now the most important thing was discovering what had become of Lucius.
Several hours later Minister Umbridge received a reply which confirmed her
suspicions. Madam Black's Devon estate was inaccessible and still clearly in
her hands. No bodies had been recovered, but there was no doubt in her mind -
Lucius was dead.
But certainly Madam Black could not have managed to overpower two Warlocks and
their henchmen on her own. She must have had help. Surely it was too much to
suspect that Albus Dumbledore had been involved... but perhaps not. Narcissa
Black had turned her back on her husband and son - but had she turned her back
on her heritage as well?
There was only one who knew Narcissa Black well enough to answer the Minister’s
questions. And she was currently overseeing the establishment of the
Unspeakable Office’s largest Secret Installation while still recuperating from
a grievous injury sustained during the Battle of Hogwarts.
Burying her anger, the Minister drained her umpteenth cup of tea and flung some
sparkling powder into her kitchen hearth. She spoke the name of the secret
installation and stepped into the green flames.
                                     ~o0o~
Draco Malfoy wondered why Snape wasn’t in class today. Instead, that bloated
walrus Professor Slughorn was overseeing the lesson.
Malfoy grew anxious, knowing that something was amiss. He had heard nothing
from Father or the Minister at breakfast. But they had promised that he could
have the day off school to celebrate with his father once the mission to kidnap
Mother had been accomplished.
Draco scowled at the Potters as they hovered over the potion they were working
on. Whatever had become of his father, he knew they had something to do with
it. He was sure of it! Draco’s own potion began to turn a putrid green and boil
over.
“Oi... watch it Crabbe!” snapped Draco, flexing his reattached prosthetic hand
warningly. “You were supposed to add the rat spleen after the beetle eyes...
Now we’ll bloody have to start all over again...”
Hermione frowned and glanced at Malfoy while Harry added the sopophorous beans
to their Euphoria Inducing Elixir. They were over halfway through Snape’s Sixth
Year Potions Book and Professor Slughorn had asked them to brew up something
just for fun as a demonstration of their skills. Harry added the wormwood,
stirred the potion counterclockwise six times, and let it simmer. He reckoned
that ought to do it. Then he noticed Hermione's distraction.
“You alright Hermione?” whispered Harry.
“It’s Malfoy,” Hermione quietly replied. “Something’s gone wrong... and I don’t
think it’s his potion that’s bothering him.”
“Well that’s good then,” said Harry, sounding relieved. “I was worried that
something had happened to Snape. But if Malfoy’s worried, that means that his
father must have failed when he went after Madam Black, doesn’t it?”
“The thing is Harry, Snape might have killed Lucius Malfoy...”
“Well... yeah! I thought he might if he got a chance - and I know it might
sound a bit cold Hermione, but that’s good too! Malfoy was there when Voldemort
killed my mum. He was keeping watch outside...”
“He... he was? How do you know?”
“I... I’m not sure really...” Harry puzzled over it for a moment. For some
reason he had several clear images in his mind, and he wasn’t sure where they
had come from. “I just know that Malfoy, MacNair, and Wormtail were there too.
Maybe... maybe when I went back in time to when I was a baby I saw them
somehow...”
Hermione peered at Harry uncertainly, then decided to take him at his word.
“Alright! But that’s not what I meant Harry... I think things are about to get
very ugly! By this time tomorrow...”
Hermione trailed off and turned to face her husband. She really didn’t know
what was going to happen next. Harry could see how scared Hermione was and gave
her a hug. Sensing a change of mood, Parvati looked up from the potion she was
working on with Lavender and glanced at the Potters.
“It’s alright Hermione,” Harry murmured, “Everyone’s all packed, and ready to
make a hasty exit at a moment’s notice. And we both know they won’t make a move
on us until they’ve managed to force Dumbledore out. I doubt the Minister will
move that quickly - she’s very cautious. We’ve probably still got a day or two
at least...”
Harry went quiet when Professor Slughorn approached, beaming broadly.
“Well, what have we here Mr and Mrs Potter?” asked the rotund Professor “My
word! It appears to be the Elixir to Induce Euphoria - and a most exceptional
one at that. Is that a hint of Peppermint I detect?”
Harry nodded and grinned.
Hermione couldn’t help feeling a bit chuffed, despite everything. Harry was
right, there was little point in worrying about Draco and the Carrows while
Dumbledore was still headmaster. Curiosity piqued, Daphne and Jennifer both
paused to see what was happening.
“Splendid!” continued the impressed Professor Slughorn, “Simply marvelous!
Sev... I mean Professor Snape - was absolutely right - a proper pair of potions
prodigies you are. I dare say you would have both given Mr Potter’s mother a
run for her money...”
                                     ~o0o~
Dolores Umbridge sat on the other side of the desk, facing the witch she had
put in charge of overseeing the new detention centres. She was quite surprised
at what she had just heard, to say the least.
“Severus Snape?” said Minister Umbridge, her tone skeptical.
Dolores knew that Snape and the Malfoys had fallen out over the Greengrass
incidents - but that was quite understandable given that it had created an
unfortunate rift between two of the most highly respected Pureblood families in
Britain. Just as it had been equally unfortunate, but quite understandable,
that Warlock Greengrass had thrown his support behind Harry Potter for
protecting his youngest daughter.
But prior to that, Lucius had always expressed nothing but the highest regards
for his old friend, assuring Dolores that Severus Snape had always been
dedicated to the Pureblood Agenda, and that he had tricked Albus Dumbledore
into supporting him at the end of the first war.
“Severus Snape?” Dolores repeated. “Are you certain of this?”
“Oh yes...” the other witch smirked, “I never trusted Snape. He was far too
enamoured of Lily Potter - he asked the Dark Lord to spare her life. But my
dear sister... she always had a soft spot for Severus, though she would never
admit it. And it was Lucius who kept watch with Walden MacNair when the Dark
Lord killed the Potters... If anyone helped Narcissa kill Lucius, it would be
Severus.”
“Thank you! Your information is immensely helpful.” The Minister flared her
nostrils and pursed her lips. She had been planning to make her play for
Hogwarts by the start of the Christmas holidays, but now it seemed that the
regrettable demise of Lucius had nonetheless presented her with an opportunity
that could not be ignored. With a bit of finesse, the Minister reasoned that
she could move her timetable up and take Hogwarts completely by the end of the
week.
Dolores turned her attention back to the other witch, and looked her over.
Narcissa Black’s sister looked much better than she had the last time the
Minister had seen her. Apparently the blood rituals had remarkable healing
effects on the injurious dark curse which the witch had sustained. And though
Dolores much preferred wizards, she had to admit that the beguiling witch was a
vision to behold in her revealing dark-leather outfit.
“I trust you are well,” simpered Dolores, “But if you need anything more from
me... anything at all, just ask.”
“Oh thank you Dolores!” purred Bellatrix as she fluttered her eyelashes at the
Minister. “But you have done so much for me already - the Pardon, the medical
assistance, the job as head of this new institution, the underlings, the use of
these delightful facilities, and the screams of the mudbloods you have provided
for my amusement thus far.
“I knew you were a dedicated Slytherin Dolores, but I confess, I had no idea
that we had so many pleasures in common. I cannot wait for the next phase of
your campaign to go into effect and this detention centre becomes fully
operational...”
                                     ~o0o~
The praises of Professor Slughorn and Harry’s reassurances had made her feel a
bit better for awhile, but Hermione’s trepidation continued to grow throughout
the day. The Professors all appeared to be on high alert. Fleur and Dora joined
the younger members of the Unaffiliated for lunch and they took it outside to
eat in the courtyard despite the light sprinkling of snow.
“Dumbledore pulled us both aside towards the end of last period and told us
that Lucius Malfoy was killed by Snape last night when ‘e tried to storm
Narcissa Black’s house,” Dora said quietly as she glanced around to make sure
nobody was listening nearby.
“So it did happen then; I knew it...” Hermione gasped, quivering with
agitation. Her words tumbled out one after the other in a rush as she tried to
explain.
“Harry knew it I mean... Harry said Mr Malfoy might have a go at Narcissa Black
after Snape gave us a look in Potions. He said that Snape might do anything to
protect her - I wasn’t certain, but what Harry said seemed logical - and then
this morning I knew Harry was right - I don’t think Draco knows for certain yet
though. He just seemed very worried in Potions, and Snape was gone, and I just
put 2 and 2 together...” Hermione finally paused to take a breath.
“Ze Headmaster told us to let you know... and we are to try an’ remain with you
as much as possible when classes are not in session,” Fleur murmured. “‘E is
not certain, but ‘e believes that ze Minister may escalate ‘er investigation
very soon.”
“Good,” Harry replied, nodding. “Now we know for sure that Snape killed Mr
Malfoy. If the Minister suspects Snape was involved, it’s only a matter of time
before she tries to have Dumbledore arrested as a co-conspirator...”
As the Potters continued their day, they also received special attention from
both McGonagall and Flitwick, who fussed over them and appeared quite concerned
to be sure that Harry and Hermione were both prepared for any eventuality.
By the end of the day, Hermione was in a high state of anxiety. Harry noticed
that despite her best efforts to remain calm, Hermione kept picking at her food
and glancing at Draco and the Carrows all through dinner.
There was little outward indication at breakfast the following morning that
something significant had altered in the British Wizard World or at Hogwarts.
Though nothing yet was being mentioned on the morning news report, Hermione and
Harry both picked up on the clear signals from the mood of the Inquisitors and
the Professors that Lucius Malfoy’s death had triggered the imminence of a
substantial shift in power at Hogwarts.
The lack of Draco Malfoy’s presence was hardly unexpected, but it was still
unnerving.
“I wonder what he’s up to,” Harry muttered.
“He’s probably just upset, Harry,” Hermione mused, unable to help feeling badly
for Draco, despite everything horrible he and his father had done. She had to
remind herself that Draco had tried to kill them both after violently
assaulting Astoria, but she still felt too nauseous to eat.
                                     ~o0o~
Draco Malfoy whipped out his wand again.
“Avada Kedavra,” he uttered malevolently for the hundredth time; a bolt of
green lightning emerged from the tip of his wand and turned one of the stone
busts he was aiming at into rubble.
Draco nodded in satisfaction. His aim and speed were improving. But the
satisfaction wasn’t enough to quell his rage - and he knew that he would have
to be much faster and aim better to kill Potter. The last time Draco had tried
to kill Potter had been a debacle, and he had no desire to lose another hand.
The Carrows had delivered him the message of his father’s presumed death
yesterday afternoon. Draco’s world was collapsing around him. His father was
dead, and he didn’t care that “Aunt Dolores” had placed the blame squarely on
Professor Snape. Draco knew that it was Potter and the Mudblood’s fault... oh,
and Greengrass’s too of course; somehow they had turned his mother and Snape
against Draco and his father.
When the Inquisitors finally took Hogwarts, Draco would have his vengeance. The
Carrows had promised him that much. They had approved time off from regular
classes to continue his practice with the Unforgivable Curses so that Draco
would be ready to take his place as their deputy, and to wield the power
necessary for achieving his goals.
He was going to torture and rape the Mudblood in front of Potter and then he
was going to kill them both - after they had given up the details to the
Carrows regarding the Secret Weapon they had used to destroy the Dark Lord’s
Army.
By the end of classes, after discharging much of his rage practicing against
moving targets, Draco was feeling much better about things. And the benefits of
his father’s demise began to seem more apparent. Draco was the heir to his
father’s fortune after all, and he no longer had the burden of trying to live
up to his father’s academic expectations.
Hogwarts really didn’t matter anymore, except as a stepping stone to bigger and
better things which were now within his grasp. Aunt Dolores and the Carrows
were encouraging and preparing him to take up the mantle of Warlock, a position
which Draco would have likely had to wait decades for before his father’s
premature death.
In fact, the more Draco thought about it, the more this seemed like an
opportunity to celebrate rather than a misfortune. And if anyone did anything
which he didn’t like, he could threaten them with the Minister or the
Inquisitors.
Much to Draco’s delight since returning to Hogwarts with the Inquisitors, he
had recently discovered his new threats to be a far more effective refrain
than, “wait till my father hears about this.” Instead of rolling eyes and
snorts of derision, Draco’s warnings finally brought the level of obsequious
respect that a Malfoy deserved.
Draco almost felt giddy with power. When the Minister made her announcement on
Friday, Hogwarts was as good as his, and everyone who had ever disrespected
him, or stolen what rightfully belonged to him, would pay in spades.
                                     ~o0o~
The sun had woken up on Friday morning, but had apparently decided to drink a
cup of hot cocoa and go back to bed upon seeing the cold grey skies of an early
winter below. One could barely make out its presence through the dark churning
clouds and the blizzard conditions. The wind howled as squalls of snow whipped
around the castle.
Glad for the comforting warmth of his fire at this early hour, Albus Dumbledore
sighed as he squeezed some lemon into his tea and mentally prepared himself for
what was certain to be a day as tumultuous as the weather outside.
Fortunately, Auror Mulligan continued to be a valuable asset to the Order, and
the advance notice had allowed the Order and the Unafilliated to make
provisions and back-up plans for any number of possible occurrences. Fawkes
uttered a soft musical note indicating the arrival of unwelcome guests.
“Thank you Fawkes!” said the headmaster, quickly draining his cup of tea.
“Phineas... it is time - the Aurors and Unspeakables are here for me. Remember
your promise...”
“Yes, yes... of course...” the portrait of Phineas Nigellus replied in his most
weary put-upon tone, “Provide the Potters with whatever assistance they
require... look after all the students of Hogwarts to the best of my
abilities...etc, etc...”
“Very good Phineas,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and there was a knock on his
door. “You may enter.”
Professor McGonagall opened the door, her features distraught.
“Headmaster, you have some... ahem... visitors...” she said with a strong hint
of disdain.
“Indeed!” Dumbledore gave the Professor a stern look. “Remember Minerva -
Hogwarts needs you!”
“Thank you most kindly Minerva,” said Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley, who
looked positively gleeful. He pushed past Minerva McGonagall followed by
several Aurors and a dozen Unspeakables.
“And what may I do for you this fine morning, Senior Undersecretary Weasley?”
the headmaster asked sprightly, his eyes twinkling merrily as Fawkes flew from
his perch and settled on Dumbledore’s arm.
“Not even breakfast time yet - but here you are, bright and early. Would you
like some tea?” Dumbledore politely offered, stroking Fawkes’ carmine and gold
feathers.
Percy Weasley was slightly taken aback by Dumbledore’s cheerful demeanor, but
he chalked it up to the headmaster’s deviousness and encroaching senility.
“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore...” began the youngest Senior
Undersecretary in Wizarding Britain’s history, in the most pompous and
authoritative voice he could muster.
“...By order of the Minister, and by Law, I hereby place you under arrest for
the crimes of Abetting in the Murder of Warlock Lucius Malfoy, Harbouring the
Murderer of Warlock Lucius Malfoy, Treason and Sedition, Conspiracy to commit
Treason, the Illegal Manufacture of Experimental Weapons, Corruption of the
Innocent, Illegal Use of School Property for Private Gain, and various and
sundry other crimes and misdemeanors.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to follow these gentlemen, they shall escort
you to the Ministry where you will be formally charged, and then to a High
Security Facility where you shall await trial...”
Percy faltered when he heard Dumbledore softly chuckling. Perhaps the Old Coot
was madder than he had suspected.
“You find this amusing?” Percy frowned.
“My dear boy,” Dumbledore responded in a slightly patronizing, sarcastic
manner, “you and these fine upstanding officials with you, appear to be
operating under the delusion that I am going to ‘come quietly’ as the muggles
say... I can assure you, I intend nothing of the sort...
“Indeed, my only aim is to expose the treasonous crimes of Minister Umbridge
herself: political assassination, attempted assassination, colluding with
muggle officials to commit treason, use of public finances for private
political gain, bribery, corruption of Wizengamot and Ministry officials,
illegal manipulation of the media for purposes of propaganda, corruption of the
young and foolish...”
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at Percy Weasley whose face
began to redden.
“Furthermore,” continued Dumbledore, “I am quite certain that the Minister and
those under her command are committing many more crimes, such as the torture
and murder of muggleborn - particularly given her collusion with known
Terrorists... two of which have taken up residence in this very school. I must
say Mr Weasley, I am very disappointed in you!”
Percy began to turn purple, knowing full well that the Minister had been
recruiting Voldemort’s Death Eaters and Snatchers to round up and suppress the
muggleborn insurgents who were intent on overthrowing the Ministry. The
Unspeakables began to look at each other uncomfortably, wondering who among
them might be a mole working for Dumbledore.
“Now look here Dumbledore...” Percy barked in outrage. “The Carrows were never
proved guilty in a court of law...”
“In any case,” Dumbledore said loudly, cutting Percy off, “I can hardly affect
the restoration of a legitimate and fully accountable political leadership to
the Ministry from prison can I? So my dear boy, for now - as my dear friend
Madame Maxime might say - I bid you adieu!”
Upon Dumbledore's final word, Fawkes flared as brightly as the sun and
Dumbledore was gone in a dazzling blaze of light.
Professor McGonagall tried to hide a smirk at the flabbergasted expressions on
the faces of the crowd in Dumbledore’s office as everyone recovered from their
temporary blindness. Minerva caught the eye of the portrait of Phineas Nigellus
who gave her a sardonic wink as Senior Undersecretary Weasley stormed out of
Dumbledore’s office with the Unspeakables and Aurors in tow...
***** Chapter 58: Captive Innocence *****
Sunday was a lazy day for Harry and Hermione and their friends as Dora and
Fleur had both insisted that everyone needed more time to recuperate from their
ordeal. Daphne really couldn’t disagree. She had woken up in the wee hours of
the morning, plagued by nightmares of blood dripping from her hands as she
stood over Draco’s horribly mutilated corpse with a knife.
And as she had fallen asleep in the parlour with the others, they had all woken
as well, taking it upon themselves to comfort her. Dobby had been more than
happy to provide them all with steaming cups of hot cocoa, and eventually they
had all drifted off again. Daphne fell into a deep slumber, comforted by
Jennifer’s warm embrace.
Hermione was the first to stir in the morning, pleased to see the sun streaming
through the window - unimpeded by clouds - for the first time in weeks. It was
well up, indicating that it was quite late in the morning. She sighed
contentedly, snuggled as she was on the sofa in the safety of Harry’s arms,
listening to Crookshanks purring who was sprawled across her and Harry’s laps.
Hedwig uttered a gentle hoot and Harry began to rouse as well, yawning and
feeling more than a bit out of sorts, remembering that he and Hermione were now
fugitives. Feeling Harry tensing up, Hermione shifted to face him, giving him a
wan smile before planting a wet kiss on his lips.
It wasn’t long before everyone stirred awake, peering at each other blearily
and yawning, all looking very much like they wouldn’t mind going back to sleep.
Luna woke up feeling very glum, remembering that Ginny was still at Hogwarts;
Luna was glad enough to be cuddled up on a settee with Parvati, but Parvati
wasn’t Ginny.
Harry stood up and stretched his aching body; he felt a bit better after the
kiss but his agitation wasn't so easily dispelled. The visit to Diagon Alley
and the Wiz-Vision programming had really brought it home how bad things were
getting.
It wasn’t just about an “investigation” at Hogwarts anymore - Wizarding Britain
was now completely under the thumb of Minister Umbridge and the Purebloods who
had once upon a time been supporters of Voldemort. Harry instinctively knew
that it was only a matter of time before they began rounding up the muggleborn
everywhere... if they hadn’t already been at it surreptitiously for some time
now.
Hermione frowned, knowing that the brooding look on Harry’s face indicated that
he was still unsettled despite the kiss. There was one thing that she knew
would relax him even more.
“Harry,” she said gently, “I know it’s a bit late in the morning, but there’s
really no need for us to get up properly yet. We could go upstairs and have a
bit more of a lie in after a shower and some breakfast...”
“I dunno,” Harry muttered. “Everything’s going to pot and I have to do
something Hermione...”
“No you don’t!” said Dora firmly. “Not today anyway. We all still need some
time to recover and process things - Daphne certainly does...” Seeing that
Harry looked like he was about to interrupt and say that he was fine, Dora
quickly pressed on before he had a chance. “And I know you Harry. Despite what
you think, you’re still in as much shock and as exhausted as anyone else...”
“Dora ees correct!” Fleur chimed in. “If we ‘ad all not been prepared, you and
Hermione and Parvati and Jennifer might still be languishing in a cell at
‘Ogwarts - or worse,” she said darkly.
“Anyway, we oughta give things a few days - find out what Dumbledore’s
planning,” Dora added.
Harry opened and shut his mouth, deflating. He knew he was fighting a losing
battle. And when it came right down to it - even though he couldn’t bring
himself to admit it out loud - recent weeks at Hogwarts, the eventful Friday,
and the chilling effects of coming across the Wanted posters yesterday had all
taken an emotional toll on him. And Hermione must be feeling even worse, he
surmised when he looked into her anxious brown eyes.
“Yeah... okay,” Harry sighed. “I suppose I could use some time off from things.
Alright Hermione, breakfast it is, then back to bed for a bit.” Hermione
beamed, looking relieved.
Dobby bustled around the kitchen, and soon they were all digging into their
favourite morning dishes - Fleur with her croissants, fruit, and coffee, and
the rest munching on a proper English fry-up of a breakfast with piles of
bacon, juicy bangers, fried tomato, baked beans, chips, every variety of eggs
that one could think of, crumpets, toast, a pot of tea and orange juice.
Hermione was dipping her buttery crumpet into the runny yolk of her fried eggs,
frowning pensively as she watched Dobby who was thoroughly pleased to be eating
at the table with everyone.
“Dobby, whatever happened with Winky?” Hermione asked. “She must be miserable
at Hogwarts without you to keep her company.”
“Oh! No Mistress Hermione,” Dobby squeaked. “Winky is being much happier now.
She is looking after her Master again. Master Crouch is at home after being in
hospital for sad people who is drinking too much. He takes Winky back and is
being much nicer.”
“That’s wonderful Dobby!” Hermione beamed, squashing her discomfort with House-
Elf slavery. She was just happy that Winky was feeling better.
Harry was cheered at hearing a bit of good news, despite his own mixed
feelings. “Yeah! That’s great Dobby. Tell Winky we’re both really happy for her
when you see her again.”
“Yes sir, Master Harry sir,” said Dobby happily. “Winky is being pleased to
hear that Mr and Mrs Potter thinks of her.”
After breakfast, true to his word, Harry meekly followed Hermione upstairs
wondering if “lie-in” was a euphemism for something else. He grinned when
Hermione dispensed with a nightie after a quick shower and clambered into bed.
When Luna returned to her own room, she rummaged through her bag and found her
mirror, wondering if Ginny still had hers. She lay on her bed and frowned when
Ginny didn’t answer, but continued to peer into the mirror, holding out hope
that eventually Ginny would reply.
Jennifer bit her lip pensively as she cuddled Daphne in their own bed, trying
to think of something to distract her or cheer her up. One thing in particular
occurred to Jennifer, but she and Daphne had never got beyond a bit of
snogging. And frankly, Jennifer herself was anxious about taking the next step,
not sure if she could handle it yet, and also afraid that Daphne might say no.
She sighed and stroked Daphne’s hair, settling for just holding her close.
Daphne lay quietly with Jennifer’s arm curled around her waist and felt her
shifting, pressed against her back with nothing but a thin piece of fabric
between her and the other girl. Remembering how the kiss that Jennifer had
given her the night before after the evening news had made her feel, Daphne
couldn’t help shivering slightly at the tingles of arousal coursing through
her.
She hadn’t diddled herself in months, feeling too embarrassed to with Jennifer
sharing the same quarters with her - and more often than not, the same bed.
Daphne was still uncertain as to why she felt just as nice with Jennifer as she
had imagined she would with a boy. Though she had to admit, there was something
about Jennifer which reminded her a bit of Harry.
Maybe her black hair? Or perhaps her hazel-green eyes, which seemed to look
much more green than brown? But there was something else - something almost
ineffable - something inside Jennifer, a certain boldness of spirit perhaps.
Daphne was far beyond feeling shy about snogging Jennifer now, and was
wondering what it might be like to go a bit further.
Daphne was a bit scared and bashful to ask Jennifer. What if she said no? What
if Jennifer freaked out because of what that creepy wizard - Wormtail - had
done to her? But the more Daphne thought about it as the minutes ticked by and
she felt Jennifer’s presence, felt Jennifer's warm body next to her own and
hardened nipples against her back, the subtle fruity aroma of Jennifer’s body-
wash inflaming her senses, the more Daphne became willing to take the risk.
“Er... Jennifer,” Daphne began tentatively, trying her hardest to sound as if
she was just curious, “Have you ever... erm... you know... done it with anyone
before - boy or girl? Before... er... you know... what that horrible wizard did
to you?”
Jennifer’s heart did a little flip and her breathing quickened. Was Daphne
really asking what Jennifer thought she was asking... or just being
inquisitive?
“Erm... just a bit really,” Jennifer replied. “I sort of let a boy I’d been
hanging out with feel me up once - it was nice but we never went any further.
Then there was a girl I really liked. We... er... messed around a fair bit and
went pretty far. What about you?”
“Oh... er... me?” Daphne said a bit awkwardly, her heart beginning to race.
“No! To be honest, I’ve never even really kissed anyone properly before you.
There was a boy I kissed once when I was in third year, but he was seventeen
and when I said I wouln't have sex with him he stopped halfway through the kiss
and got a bit shirty with me... Then there was one other boy who kissed me, but
it was really uncomfortable - I wasn’t into him. And Draco doesn’t really count
because he forced himself on me...”
Daphne trailed off, not sure how to progress the conversation without seeming
too forward, but absentmindedly, her fingers brushed against the back of
Jennifer’s hand - the hand attached to the arm around her waist - as if to take
it and guide it to a more sensitive region. Jennifer’s hand involuntarily
twitched and Daphne quickly pulled her own hand away.
“I’m sorry,” Daphne squeaked, “I didn’t mean to...”
“Don’t be sorry,” Jennifer murmured, her lips touching Daphne’s golden hair,
just behind her ear. “I’m honestly not sure how far I’m up to going myself, but
I expect you’ve been depriving yourself... because of me. I could at least make
it up to you... if you’ll let me...”
Daphne could feel Jennifer’s hand gently caressing her lower belly now, through
the silky fabric of her sheer slip, stroking in little circles. She let out a
little gasp, suddenly feeling an intoxicating surge of pleasure, thinking how
nice it would feel directly against her bare skin.
“Al...alright,” Daphne panted, “I think... I think I’d like that...”
Jennifer kissed Daphne’s ear, trailing her kisses to Daphne’s neck as her hand
pushed Daphne’s slip above her navel. Then her hand slid down the bare skin of
Daphne’s lower abdomen, reaching further southward, drawing ever nearer to
Daphne’s knickers. Another swell of euphoria came over Daphne as she trembled
at Jennifer’s touch.
Jennifer’s fingers slipped under the waistband of Daphne’s knickers, stroking
the downy trimmed patch on her mound. Daphne bit her lip and let out a little
moan. Finally Jennifer’s fingers reached Daphne’s heated entrance, slipping
between her dampening folds, rubbing gently, two of them pressing forth and
entering Daphne’s clenching sheath as her thumb toggled Daphne’s fleshy pearl.
Daphne’s head swam, the room spinning as she climaxed for the first time at
another’s touch. Somehow it felt even better than fingering herself. Jennifer
heard Daphne’s squeaks and felt her shudder ecstatically, but she didn’t
stop... Her fingers plunged deeper, again and again in rapid succession as her
thumb continued to flick and rotate Daphne’s little button.
Daphne had never imagined feeling so good; her hips tilted, moving rhythmically
to meet Jennifer’s thrusting digits as another tidal wave of bliss swept her
away. Daphne lost herself to the cascading transports of delight and fell into
oblivion.
The fog of ecstasy began to lift as Daphne came to, finding herself now facing
Jennifer who was planting little kisses on her cheeks and lips, wrapping both
arms around her, one hand behind Daphne’s head and the other pressing into the
small of her back and sliding down under her knickers to cradle her bottom.
Jennifer grinned when she saw Daphne returning to her senses. “So... did you
like that then?” she asked.
Daphne fluttered her eyelashes and nodded, shyly grinning back.
“Very much!” she replied. “That was the best... I’ve never... that felt great!”
Daphne sighed happily, doubting that any nightmares would penetrate her shield
of joy when night fell once more. “I love you Jennifer,” she murmured as they
both began to drift off.
It was mid-afternoon by the time everyone had finished their naps, and they
spent the rest of Sunday lounging in the parlour watching television or reading
and listening to music. Luna was particularly happy when Ginny finally returned
her mirror-call and assured her that all was as well as could be, all things
considered.
                                     ~o0o~
As Andrea Mason came to, everything was black and she groggily realised that
her hands were cuffed to the arms of a metal chair. Whoever had taken her, they
must have drugged her. Suddenly the sack covering her head was yanked off and
she blinked, blinded by a bright light. She couldn’t quite make out the figures
surrounding her.
“Where’s the disk?” growled one of her captors. “The one you were going to give
to the reporter!”
“You can’t do this to me,” she gasped. Now she was absolutely certain that
either an MI5 or MI6 special operations unit had her. “You can’t hold me
illegally...”
“I’d say we can. This is by order of the Prime Minister himself,” said another
voice in more measured tones. “And if you don’t give us the location of the
disk, we shall do much more than detain you. I believe you have already been
informed that we have your daughter...”
Andrea heard a rustling sound and her blood ran cold when she heard the scream
that followed.
“Mummy!” a little girl wailed. “Why are they doing this to us? ...”
“Al...Alright,” Andrea pleaded, “I'll tell you where it is - just don't hurt my
daughter. Let her go... please!”
                                     ~o0o~
Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley arrived at the Ministry early Monday
morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to start the day. He grabbed a cup
of tea and a newspaper at the concession stand in the atrium before making his
way to the Minister’s office.
“Good Morning Margaret,” he said to the Minister’s secretary, a bespectacled
curly haired witch.
“Mornin’ sir. The Minister’s already waiting for you in her office.”
Percy nodded curtly and pushed open the Minister’s door. He felt a growing
sense of trepidation, not at seeing the Minister - he was always delighted to
spend time in her company - but at what he knew he would have to do today.
“Good Morning Minister...” he began.
“Percy dear,” said the Minister sweetly, interrupting him. “Please, no
formalities are necessary between us - Dolores is quite alright. We are friends
after all.”
“Er... Yes, of course Min... Dolores...” Despite the initial sense of
awkwardness, Percy felt a warm glow swelling within. He was slightly giddy when
Dolores addressed him again.
“Are you sure you’re up to the task, Percy dear? I can still assign Rookwood if
you’d prefer...”
“No... No, you’re quite right Minister.” Percy shook his head. “It probably is
better coming from me. We should give him a chance to avoid any unnecessary
unpleasantries. I’m sure he’ll talk given the right motivation.”
“Very good,” said the Minister, nodding. “I wish you the best of luck then.”
Fifteen minutes later, Percy found himself in the secret detention wing of the
Department of Mysteries, staring at the door of the interrogation chamber. He
took a deep breath to steady himself, hoping that sitting in a cell all weekend
would have made his father open to reason.
Percy really didn’t want to do this, but his father had left him no choice.
Percy’s father had always been one of Dumbledore’s staunchest supporters, and
it was long past time for him to see the error of his ways. Percy had agreed
with the Minister that his father might be more inclined to be cooperative with
him than with any of the Unspeakable Interrogators.
Finally feeling ready, Percy gave the heavy iron door to the chamber a push and
it swung open with a groaning sound. Arthur Weasley coldly regarded his son
Percy. Percy loomed over his shackled father and scowled.
“Hello Father. I hope that this little time-out has brought you to your
senses.” When his father didn’t respond, Percy sighed and had another go.
“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. I only want what’s best
Father... It’s too late for Fred and George, they’ve made their bed. But I
don’t want Ginny and Ron to go the same way...”
Arthur Weasley stiffened, but he still said nothing.
“Did you hear about Draco Malfoy? He was killed by Daphne Greengrass, and
according to the Minister, Ginny was involved.”
“What? The Malfoy boy is dead? ” Arthur gasped in shock, finally moved to speak
to his estranged son. Having been arrested the afternoon of the same day that
the Unspeakables had been dispatched to Hogwarts to detain Dumbledore, he had
heard no news since then. “Ginny... what’s happened to her? I suppose you've
arrested her too have you?”
“No... and she’s alright for the moment,” Percy responded, pleased to have got
his father talking. “The Minister won’t be seeking charges against the
Greengrass girl - but that’s just politics - and the Minister is willing to let
Ginny’s role in the affair go... Thank Goodness!
“But it’s really all down to Potter. Ginny’s head is still full of the Saviour
nonsense you and Mum fed us all with. We know it’s really Potter who’s to
blame...”
“That’s ridiculous!” spat the elder Weasley. “If Draco Malfoy is dead, then he
brought it on himself, and he only has his Death Eater father to blame for
bringing him up so poorly!”
“Lucius Malfoy only did what he believed was necessary to counter Dumbledore’s
political meddling,” said Percy, his voice rising. “Warlock Malfoy was sick of
Dumbledore undermining our wizarding heritage and promoting the dilution of our
bloodlines. Yes, Warlock Malfoy acted outside the colour of authority, but the
Minister and I know the truth now. We know that Dumbledore has been plotting
for years to overthrow the Ministry with an army of muggles...”
“You can’t be serious - talk about filling heads with nonsense!” Arthur
snorted. “That’s absolutely preposterous! You don’t seriously believe the swill
the Minister has been pushing about muggles stealing wands do you? I thought
you were smarter than that!”
“The Unspeakables are still working on that,” Percy admitted. “We don't know
how he's doing it, but if anyone could figure out how to teach muggles to use
magic, it’s Dumbledore. The man is a genius - a mad twisted genius, true - but
brilliant nonetheless!
“We know that Dumbledore invented some sort of weapon which destroys dark
creatures. You were at Hogwarts when Potter used it to wipe out thousands of
Voldemort’s Inferi and a swarm of his Dementors - not to mention killing and
injuring a horde of Giants and Mountain Trolls. We’re hoping you can tell us
about that...”
“Honestly Percy, I have absolutely no idea how Harry Potter managed that.”
Arthur peered at his son as if he were a three headed cat. “Dumbledore never
told a single one of us how that was accomplished. I admit that the man does
play some things close to the vest... but Dumbledore’s only goal has ever been
the preservation of life and justice for all... wizards and muggles alike!”
“That’s not entirely true father,” Percy interrupted. “Did you know that before
they had a falling out, that the Great Protector of the Muggleborn was once
Gellert Grindelwald’s best friend?”
Percy noted the look of stunned disbelief on his father’s face with
satisfaction and continued.
“That’s right... Dumbledore never cared a whit about muggleborn. It was all
part of his grand conspiracy to take over the Ministry...”
“That’s utter nonsense! If it were true, then Dumbledore would have accepted
the post of Minister when it was offered him after Voldemort fell the first
time around!” Arthur snapped. “Open your eyes Percy! These are all lies! I
raised you to be better than this.”
Percy sighed and shook his head, seeing that he wasn’t getting through to his
father.
“You’ll say anything to protect Dumbledore and Potter, won’t you?” Percy
snarled as pulled his wand from his robes. “Well what about your family? What
about protecting us - protecting Ginny and Ron?” Percy’s voice rose as his
blood began to boil.
“Is that why you never accepted a higher paying position in the Ministry?”
Percy bellowed, his face and ears turning purple. “...So that you could waste
all your time helping Dumbledore promote his allegedly pro-muggle agenda? To
help him pollute our gene pool and spit upon our culture?
“So that you could perform Secret Experiments on muggle artifacts at
Dumbledore's behest? You’re just as obsessed as he is with destroying the
fabric of our society, and YOU had something to do with creating that Secret
Weapon of his - I KNOW IT!”
“Come on, just admit it!” Percy growled, raising his wand. “Don’t make me do
this...”
The blood drained from Arthur Weasley’s face when he realised to what lengths
his son was willing to go. He swallowed, wondering how he had managed to fail
Percy so utterly.
“Percy, please... think about what you’re doing...” Arthur began, trying to
reason with his son. “You don’t have to do this...”
“I am truly sorry that it has come to this... Father,” sneered Percy, bitter
tears stinging his eyes as he pointed his wand at Arthur. “Believe me, I’d much
rather not have to do this - but the Minister’s other methods of interrogation
are far more damaging and potentially lethal. And despite everything between
us, I would rather not see you injured - you are still family after all.
“I was hoping that you’d see reason... It would be to the Greater Good and to
your own good - to our Family’s good - if you would simply renounce Dumbledore
and Potter... Tell us where they are and everything you know about the Secret
Weapon...”
“Never! I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you or the Minister!”
Arthur looked at his son imploringly. “Percy, you have to know that the
Minister is manipulating you - filling you with lies - she is as evil as
Voldemort ever was...”
Percy peered at his father incredulously.
“Evil? ...Seriously? Let me tell you what Evil is - Father... Evil is
perverting and denying our wizarding heritage with your unhealthy obsession for
muggles and your misguided loyalty to Dumbledore. Evil is taking that obsession
to such a degree that you have put our family name to shame and ruined our
family financially...
“Did you know that due to your obsessions, our family’s social and political
blood-status has been downgraded to ‘Questionable?’ ... Did you know that
because of you, our name is a laughingstock? ... But you don’t care, do you
father? You don’t care that you’ve betrayed me - betrayed us all - your
family... your Blood!
“This is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you! Percy shouted as his bitter
tears began falling. “I’ll give you one more opportunity Father - it’s not too
late to stand up for what’s right. Tell us where Dumbledore and the Potters are
- give up the Secret Weapon!”
“Percy, please...” Arthur beseeched. “Wake up before it’s too late...”
The red arc of the Cruciatus Curse erupted from the tip of Percy Weasley’s
wand, and the screams of his father echoed throughout the secret detention
chambers in the Department of Mysteries.
                                     ~o0o~
“I’m sorry Dolores... he won’t talk!” Percy said dejectedly as he slumped in
the seat before the Minister's desk. “I was so sure I could make him see
reason... see how much he’s hurting the family...”
“There, there dear,” Dolores said soothingly as she patted Percy’s hand. She
poured him a steaming cup of chamomile tea. “Never mind Percy - you did your
best. And despite his recalcitrance, I have no wish to cause your father any
great injury - he is still your family after all. I have a much better idea for
achieving our goals...”
                                     ~o0o~
The next few days passed busily at Number Twelve for the Potters and their
friends as they spent a bit of time working out a schedule to keep up with
their schoolwork and continue their training. They managed to clear out one of
the rooms in the basement, jamming everything except for a few statues into the
other basement-room.
When it had been cleared, they strengthened the walls, floor, and ceiling, with
every silencing and fortification Charm and Rune sequence that they could find
in their schoolbooks and in the books in Number Twelve’s library.
It was no Room of Requirement, but by the time they had completed the task, it
was adequate enough to stand up to combat spells without causing problems for
their neighbours. Harry and Hermione had just finished testing a bombarda and a
repairing spell on the statue upon which they had been practicing when Dora
called down the stairs to the basement.
“Harry, Hermione... you two might want to come watch the WVN news yourselves.
The Ministry’s supposed to be makin’ some sort of announcement.”
“Thanks Dora, we’ll be right there.”
Moments later, everyone was in the parlour in front of the Wiz-Vision. As with
the previous special announcement which they had seen at Hogwarts, William
O’Hannity the news-anchor introduced the Minister. But this time the impeccably
groomed announcer also introduced somebody else... someone who was all too
recognisable - Percy Weasley, looking as stiff as a board.
“Thank you once again for your kind introduction William,” the Minister began
warmly in saccharine tones. “As I had previously mentioned I would do, in the
Ministry’s bid to keep the public informed, I have returned to update you on
current affairs in regards to the investigations at Hogwarts, and into Albus
Dumbledore’s dirty dealings at large.”
And as before, the Minister’s voice grew stonier as she continued.
“Now that the initial investigation into the events last Friday at Hogwarts has
been completed, I can reveal to you that yes - a student was killed at
Hogwarts. Young Draco Malfoy - who had been set to take on the mantle of
Warlock following the assassination of his father by Dumbledore’s associate,
Severus Snape - was himself assassinated.”
“NO!” gasped O’Hannity. “You don’t say!”
“Yes!” the Minister returned, “And as indicated in the brief Ministry release
on Saturday, the evidence points to Mr Potter and his wife. They fled the scene
shortly after the commission of the assassination, accompanied by none other
than Fred and George Weasley, who had started a riot to cover their escape from
Hogwarts.”
“Is there any truth to the rumours that muggleborn students were involved?”
asked the slick newscaster.
“Not directly in regards to the assassination of young Mr Malfoy,” the Minister
replied, “however, it is true that during the riot, the muggleborn students
also fled Hogwarts. We believe that this was due to leaks regarding the
Ministry’s next phase of the investigation into the treasonous activities of
Albus Dumbledore and the muggleborn revolutionaries.
“As part of our ongoing efforts to secure the future for our ancient heritage,
and to maintain Order, the Ministry is announcing the formation of the
Muggleborn Registration Commission. All persons of muggle descent - those with
no wizarding parentage whatsoever - who purport to be wizards, must register
themselves with the Ministry so that we can closely monitor their activities,
and also to determine their true magical status... or lack thereof!
“And it was with an eye towards these efforts, that the Ministry had been
planning on expelling all muggleborn students from Hogwarts in any case;
however, not before such a time as each and every muggleborn student could be
registered, and then removed to a more fitting facility.
“Someone - perhaps one of Dumbledore’s spies in the Ministry - must have leaked
advance notice at Hogwarts... The flight of the muggleborn from Hogwarts thus
represents a minor setback in terms of rounding up for examination these new
entrants into our magical society.
“As to our other efforts to uncover the extent of Dumbledore’s conspiracy, a
purge has begun within the Ministry. I should preface this next bit to say that
my deputy, Senior Undersecretary Percy Weasley, is beyond reproach - he has
denounced the actions of his brothers, Fred and George Weasley.”
“It is to be understood that these young men are likely being manipulated by
Albus Dumbledore, and if they turn themselves over to authorities, renounce
their affiliation with the Potters and Albus Dumbledore, and throw themselves
at the mercy of the Ministry, they shall receive a fair hearing, and leniency
shall be shown. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the Head of House
Weasley - perhaps it would be best if my Senior Undersecretary explained...”
Percy nodded at Minister Umbridge with an icy expression and took up the
narrative.
“Thank you Minister, I would be delighted to...” Percy began. “Much to my great
distress, my very own father - Ministry Employee, Warlock Arthur Weasley - has
been determined to be one of Albus Dumbledore’s spies within the Ministry
itself,” Percy said coldly. “My father has been arrested, and awaits trial. He
is currently being detained in the Ministry’s holding facilities near the
Wizengamot chambers.
“Due to the ongoing investigation, and the purge within the Ministry, the date
of his trial has not been set. It is hoped that Warlock Weasley will be
cooperative in exposing the rest of Dumbledore’s agents. Until such a time,
Warlock Weasley shall remain indefinitely in detention, and be subject to
interrogation.
“Now, in regards to the muggleborn insurrection, I urge all muggleborn to
present themselves to the Ministry at this time for Registration. Things will
go much easier for them, and all who are cooperative shall be treated fairly.
However, those who are recalcitrant, and who attempt to avoid registration
shall be shown no such leniency...”
Percy narrowed his eyes and his voice hardened as he spoke with even greater
vehemence.
“Furthermore, given the violence and lack of regard for civilised behaviour on
the part of Dumbledore’s supporters and the insurrectionists, the ban on the
employment of Unforgivable Curses has been lifted for Ministry Officials.
“We will use whatever means are necessary to restore Order, and to secure the
rights of those with Ancient Blood to move about freely without being subject
to violent repression by those of dubious status...” Percy glanced at Dolores
“...Minister, do you have anything else to add?”
“Thank you Undersecretary Weasley, I should just like to put some concerns to
rest...” Dolores replied, then she turned to speak directly to the viewers in
her sweetest, silkiest tones.
“Undoubtedly, the lifting of the ban on the use of Unforgivables is not without
some controversy... even among those of the Ancient Houses. However, the
majority of the Wizengamot has spoken in concord with the Ministry...
“And we must stress to those among the Ancient Houses who continue to harbour
reservations, that this is to the Greater Good in order to preserve our ancient
wizarding heritage from dilution and sabotage. I look forward to the
cooperation of all... Please remember - the Ministry is here to serve you!
Thank you, and good night!”
Harry gaped at the screen as moans and squeals of horror escaped from the
others. Hermione gripped Harry’s arm tightly, hissing angrily.
“Bloody Hell!” Dora murmured.
“I can’t believe she actually got the ban lifted!” Parvati fumed.
“The Unforgivables - those are the Death Curse and the Torture Curse, aren’t
they!?” Jennifer gasped.
“And the Imperius - the mind-control curse...” said Daphne.
Fleur and Luna sat in stunned silence, horrified expressions on their faces.
“If Percy’s alright with the Unforgivables - anything could happen to Mr
Weasley,” Harry said quietly, his face ashen. Hermione glanced at Harry
anxiously, sensing his cold fury growing.
“Harry... it’s probably a trap. The Minister - she knows you too well - she’s
baiting us...”
“Yeah! I know...!” Harry peered into his wife’s eyes and she nodded.
“Good! Just as long as we’re all clear,” said Hermione. “So what are we going
to do to rescue Mr Weasley then?”
“Ahem... Might I offer a suggestion?” said a familiar and vaguely supercilious
voice belonging to someone unseen.
Harry, Hermione and the others turned in surprise to peer at the landscape
painting on the wall behind the sofa.
“Er... Headmaster Black, what are you doing here?” asked Harry in bewilderment.
“Please, Phineas Nigellus is good enough... there is no need for formalities
outside of Hogwarts. And this is one of the homes of my portrait after all! I
am free to wander the paintings in any building my portraits reside in...”
“Oh, er... right - of course!” Harry made a mental note to remove any paintings
from the bedrooms. “Sorry Headma... Phineas Nigellus!”
“In any case,” the portrait of Sirius’s forebear continued, “that brings me to
my point. I have a portrait at the Ministry as well, and I can tell you -
Arthur Weasley is NOT in the Ministry’s official holding facility on level ten.
I have it on good information from another portrait that Arthur Weasley was
last seen being escorted into the Department of Mysteries...”
“So the Minister is baiting a trap for us then!” Hermione stated, quivering in
agitation.
“Without question...” Phineas Nigellus affirmed, “however...”
“...you can get us in!” Harry interjected, his heart racing as his adrenaline
began to pump. “And Dora and I can slip into the DoM in disguise to find Mr
Weasley, and then we can get back out through your portrait.”
“Indeed!” the portrait said dryly. “I just happen to know of a painting very
near to the DoM’s secret detention facility and the interrogation chambers.
Though, if it is just the two of you, you may be at a disadvantage numerically
speaking...”
“We’ll go late at night when there are less people, and Harry and Dora won’t be
alone,” Hermione stated in a steely voice.
Harry peered at Hermione anxiously. The last thing he wanted was to get her
captured or killed as well, but he recognised her tone of voice as one which
would brook no argument. Harry supposed there was always the Disillusionment
Charm; he hadn’t really had a chance to practice it yet, but he was certain he
could learn it before the day was out.
“Oui, Harry shall have our support...” Fleur added as the others began to raise
their own voices.
“I’m going too,” said Luna adamantly.
“Wait... STOP!” said Harry in alarm. “Okay, alright... some of you can come
too, but I don’t want to risk all of us in one operation. A smaller team will
be able to move faster, and draw less attention anyway....”
“And if we don’t make it back out...” Harry gulped, “whoever’s on the outside
can call in the Order for backup if absolutely necessary. But I don’t want to
have to get them involved if we don’t have to. It sounds like they’ve got
enough to deal with as it is, facing whoever the Ministry is using to round-up
muggleborns...”
“Probably the Snatchers and Death Eaters under the auspices of the Unspeakable
Office...” Dora muttered. “The Aurors are most likely to continue being used
mostly for traditional policing and maintaining order - though obviously
they'll also have the power to arrest anyone they suspect of being muggleborn.”
“We need to work out who should take part in the rescue mission then,” said
Hermione.
A babble of voices rose again, as nobody wanted to be left out. In the end, it
was determined that Parvati would join Harry, Hermione, and Dora, and that
Fleur would remain at Number Twelve with Daphne, Luna, and Jennifer.
“But if you’re not back within two hours, we’re coming in after you Harry,”
Luna said sternly.
Jennifer and Daphne had equally determined glints in their eyes. Fleur tried
her best not to smirk at Harry’s reluctant expression.
“Only if you can get some of the Order to come along as backup too though,
alright?” Harry muttered. “And just to make sure, I think I’ll give Lupin and
Sirius a heads-up. It’s better if the professors remain at Hogwarts.”
Moments later the Potters were peering at Sirius and Lupin’s faces in Harry’s
mirror. After quickly getting the pleasantries out of the way, Harry and
Hermione told them the plan.
“I should be there too,” Sirius said eagerly. “Don’t go in till I get there
Harry...”
“No, Harry’s right,” Lupin interrupted, “A smaller team has a better chance of
getting in and out quickly, Sirius. We’ll only stage a larger assault on the
Ministry if it becomes absolutely necessary. I think it’s best if we have
Hagrid, Alastor, Kingsley, and John on standby with us. If we all have to come
in after you Harry, with your remaining team members, we will.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Sirius grumbled. “Right then, so what’s your
timetable Harry?”
“Well, Dora reckons they’ll be expecting us tonight, in the main detention area
for prisoners being held for Wizengamot trials,” Harry replied. “That seems
likely to me, so we’ll wait till very late tomorrow night, and get into the
Department of Mysteries using the portraits...”
“So you really did get out of Hogwarts that way then?” Lupin gasped, sharing a
startled look with Sirius.
“I have to admit Harry, Remus and I were a bit skeptical when Minerva and
Filius told us that was how you had all escaped,” Sirius confessed in
amazement. “Simply ingenious!”
“It’s an unheard of method for long distance travel,” Lupin added.
“Historically speaking, that particular portal spell is not well-known, and it
is mainly noted for allowing entrance to Secret Treasure chambers... I don’t
think I’ve ever heard of it being used for escaping from or breaking into
warded buildings before, either.”
“Er... really? ” Harry was a bit surprised to think that he and Hermione might
be the first to come up with the idea of using the Pictura Portus spell in that
manner.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything!” Sirius gazed at his godson and
goddaughter-in-law with a wistful, proud expression.
“I suppose Dumbledore must think of us as a ‘Secret Treasure’ then...” Hermione
giggled. “That’s where Harry and I got the idea from to begin with - the
painting we access the Unaffiliated Corridor through.”
“Oho... That partly explains the Carrows being unable to locate your ‘House’ in
Hogwarts then,” Sirius chortled. “According to Minerva, the Carrows and the
Unspeakables have been searching the entire castle to no avail since you left.
And none of the professors can seem to find it themselves either, even if they
wanted to. Dumbledore must have put an unplottable charm on it as well.”
“Oh!” said Harry, “So that’s why nobody ever noticed us entering or exiting our
‘House’ once the wall went up at the end of our corridor. I always wondered why
nobody seemed to see us going in and out through the portrait. But why can we
and some of our other friends always find it then?”
“The Unplottable Charm must be keyed to allow only us - and whoever we invite
in - to see Aphrodite’s portrait,” Hermione mused, frowning pensively.
“Ah, that makes sense. Anyway...” Harry shifted back to the main topic, “to get
back to our plan - we’ll get into the Department of Mysteries tomorrow night at
2:30 AM, and we’ve given ourselves a two hour window to find Mr Weasley’s cell
and break him out...”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry and Hermione spent the next day preparing themselves with Dora and
Parvati. Harry diligently practiced the spell he’d been reading up on, and in
the end, Harry managed to learn the Disillusionment Charm much faster than he’d
thought he would.
Hermione sat on a stool as Harry tapped the top of her bushy head with his
wand. She felt a sensation as if an egg had been broken on her head and was
trickling down her body. She gasped when she held up her arm which looked just
like the brick wall in front of her. In fact, she couldn’t see her arm at all.
“That’s brilliant Harry!” Hermione beamed, which Harry couldn’t see because for
all intents and purposes she was invisible. “I thought I would be like a
chameleon... but this is incredible.”
Grinning, Harry tapped Parvati on the head with his wand, and she appeared to
vanish as well.
“Cor... that’s amazing!” said Dora. “I coulda put the Disillusionment Charm on
them myself if I’d had to - but yours is the best I’ve seen. Seriously Harry...
you could put Invisibility Cloaks outta business. How’d’you do that?”
“I dunno really,” said Harry, sounding surprised. “And it was much easier to
learn than I thought it would be.”
“It might be that Harry simply has an affinity for that sort of magic,” said
Hermione’s disembodied voice proudly. “He’s descended from one of the three
Peverell Brothers, the one who made Harry’s Invisibility Cloak to begin with.”
“Wait... are the Peverell Brothers the ones from that story then?” asked
Parvati’s voice. “...the Three Brothers story from The Tales of Beedle the Bard
I mean?”
“That’s right,” piped up Hermione again. “It turns out that was just a fairy
tale version. In reality the Peverell brothers invented the three items
themselves.”
“So the other artifacts are real too?” gasped Dora. “Wow! I bet that wand would
be somethin’...”
“Oh... er, I expect so,” said the invisible Hermione awkwardly as Harry raised
his eyebrows.
“It’d be more trouble than it’s worth really,” Harry said after a pause. “Just
look at what happened to the brother in the story. It didn’t end well for him.”
“That’s a good point!” the unseen Parvati agreed.
“Yeah... I suppose that’s right,” Dora said wryly. “Whoever ‘ad it would
probably end up as paranoid as Mad Eye... always wonderin’ if someone was gonna
murder them in their sleep to steal the wand... I think I like the cloak
better!”
“Maybe we should go invisible too then Harry?” Dora mused. Harry thought about
it for a moment.
“That’s not a bad idea actually,” he answered. “At least while we’re in the
pictures. When we’re in the Department of Mysteries, we should probably be
visible though, because we’ll have to interact with Mr Weasley. Do you still
have the invisibility cloak Moody gave you?”
“Yeah, I’ve still got it,” Dora nodded. “It’s not as amazing as yours - but
it’s never failed me yet.”
“Well, I suppose we’re as ready as we’ll ever be then,” Harry grinned. “I’ll
just make Hermione and Parvati visible again until tonight then shall I? Er...
hello? Hermione? Parvati...? Are you two still there...?”
Dora clasped her hand to her mouth and invisible giggles could be heard when
Harry’s trousers dropped to the floor.
“Oi... what are you doing?” groaned Harry, standing in his boxers and turning
beet red, thinking that Fred and George had been a bad influence on Hermione.
“If that’s you Hermione, I am so getting you back for this...”
“Oh... you’d better get me back for this Mr Potter,” Hermione’s giggly
disembodied voice whispered in his ear.
                                     ~o0o~
Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait hung in the atrium, so it was only after
passing through many portraits, paintings and department levels that the
invisible team of infiltrators following the once-headmaster of Hogwarts found
themselves in a portrait facing a corridor in the Department of Mysteries.
As the Potters and their friends would be exiting and returning the same way,
they knew that they couldn’t avoid revealing at least some of themselves to the
portrait of Prometheus. Harry and Dora removed their invisibility cloaks, but
Hermione and Parvati remained invisible for the sake of convenience.
“Well, my journey ends here,” said Phineas Nigellus after introducing Harry
Potter and his invisible wife to Prometheus. “I shall await your return and
alert your compatriots should any complications arise.”
“Great! Thanks Phineas. I’m sure we’ll be back soon without any trouble,” said
Harry with a confidence that he wasn’t quite sure he felt. But they’d made it
this far without rousing any alarm in the Ministry, so he was hopeful that
their luck would hold out.
Once again under the cover of their invisibility cloaks, Harry and Dora
cautiously led the way through the stone corridors, followed closely by Parvati
and Hermione. They tried a number of doors, but none of them housed the
detention wing. Instead, the chambers appeared to contain many fascinating
artifacts, but none were more interesting than the chamber behind a mysterious
locked door.
Dora tried the handle, then muttered “alohomora” under her breath. Still no
response.
“This has to be it,” sighed Harry, wondering how they’d manage to get in.
In frustration he tried the handle himself. To everyone’s surprise the door
swung open. But the chamber it revealed didn’t contain any cells or Arthur
Weasley. In the centre of the cavernous room a vibrant glowing Orb which seemed
to pulse as if it were alive hovered in mid-air near an enormous vat of liquid.
Something about the Orb seemed too enticing to simply pass by without closer
examination. Hermione felt it too - a siren call of silent song - an invitation
to approach. Dora glanced around anxiously and Parvati held her breath when
Harry slowly walked into the room as if in a trance, his hand apparently
clutching Hermione’s invisible hand.
“We should get a move on,” Dora whispered nervously, but Harry and Hermione
didn’t seem to hear.
The Orb’s luminescence pulsed even brighter, throbbing silvery violet, golden
red, and blueish white - drawing Harry and Hermione even nearer. They both
gasped when they felt it - a shimmering sensation of seraphic ecstasy which
sent rippling tingles of static electricity and magic across their skin - its
music filling their souls with a sublime joy beyond imagining.
The intensity and tone of the experience was unlike anything they’d felt
outside of themselves before - yet eerily familiar. It was the same sensation
they felt when practicing their Patronus Charms together in the Room of
Requirement. Neither of the Potters wanted to leave the room.
Parvati and Dora both entered the room, alarm setting in, wondering if it were
some sort of trap.
“Harry,” Parvati whispered worriedly. “Hermione, come on... please!”
But the Potters still seemed too enraptured to hear. Harry felt someone
grasping his arm and suddenly snapped out of it. Hermione squeaked, startled
out of her reverie.
“We’ve got to go,” said Dora quietly. “We don’t have time to waste.”
“Sorry...” said Hermione’s disembodied wobbly voice as Dora led her and Harry
out of the room. “I... I’m not sure what came over us.”
Harry was still too overcome to speak; Parvati noticed that his face was wet
with tears.
“What happened in there? What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding a bit panicked.
“N...nothing’s wrong,” said Harry, finally finding his voice. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re crying,” said Parvati, “and Hermione sounds like she is too.”
“Really?” Harry looked puzzled and touched his face. His eyebrows popped up in
surprise when he discovered that his cheeks were wet. “I dunno... I had no
idea... Hermione?”
“I don’t know either,” said Hermione, feeling her own face.
Dora’s brows knitted thoughtfully. There was something about the scent of the
liquid in the vat which seemed familiar. Suddenly it came to her.
“I can’t be certain,” she said, “but I think that must be a lab where they’re
experimenting with love potions. That was a vat of Amortentia.”
“But the Orb,” said Harry. “That wasn’t a potion - it was real!”
“Harry’s right,” Hermione agreed. “That was the real thing... not fake like a
potion. It was an of embodiment of love so powerful that it had strong
emotional effects on Harry and me. Somehow the wizard scientists must have
found a way to trap the energy in some sort of magical force-field.”
“I suppose that makes as much sense as anything,” Dora muttered. “It sure
looked like something outta Star Trek...” Dora suddenly halted, bringing up
everyone short. “Ssh,” she hissed. “There’s voices up ahead.”
                                     ~o0o~
One of the three Unspeakables guarding Arthur Weasley’s cell grumbled, as
another shuffled a deck of cards.
“This is a ruddy waste of a good night’s sleep,” he moaned. “It’s impossible to
break into the DoM.”
“And besides... nobody even knows about this detention block,” muttered
another. “If Potter ever actually bothers to show up, he’ll head for the
holding facility near the Wizengamot chambers with the other ‘Arthur
Weasley’...”
“Haha... no doubt!” laughed the first Unspeakable. “I’d love to see Potter’s
face when the polyjuice wears offa Brookstone.”
“That’s if Potter actually shows - he didn’t last night,” snorted the second.
“And if he were actually able to get through more than a dozen of the
Ministry’s finest, and if he actually escaped with Brookstone... What a Bloody
Joke! A fifteen year old boy and his pet mudblood breaking into the Ministry?”
“You might want to be a bit more cautious,” said the Unspeakable who was still
shuffling the cards. “He may just be a kid, but we still can’t figure out how
he got out of Hogwarts without anyone seeing...”
“Inside help obviously!” retorted the first Unspeakable. “If I didn’t know you
both so well, I’d be worried that one of you is Dumbledore’s mole...”
“Well there you go then!” the card shuffler replied. “How do we even know it’ll
be Potter? Maybe Dumbledore or some of his lot will show up... it doesn’t pay
to get cocky!”
The first two looked a bit uncomfortable at that.
“Well, even if Dumbledore did show up and got Weasley out, so what?” the second
Unspeakable said after a pause. “It doesn’t make much difference in the long
run. Everything’s a go now, and the Chief has the Wizengamot locked up in her
back pocket.
“...There’s really nothin’ he could do about it beyond starting a real war
against the Ministry - a full on civil war at that. He’d look like the actual
villainous rebel that the Chief is makin’ him out to be - and he knows it.”
“Yeah...” agreed the first. “And anyway, if the techs did their job right, the
whole point is moot - we’d find ‘im in no time. Like I said, watchin’ the real
Weasley is a waste of time.”
“Is that so?” said a cold high pitched voice which made all of the Unspeakables
jump out of their skins. “Perhaps you’d prefer to have a lot more time on your
hands - say, to visit the Ministry’s Unemployment Services Division?”
“N...no Ma’am... Sorry Chief!”
“Really... we didn’t mean anything by it Minister! We... er... weren’t
expecting either of you at the Ministry tonight...”
“That much is obvious!” the Minister snapped.
“I tried to warn them,” muttered the card shuffler.
“That’s very true! This one at least seems to have his head in the right
place,” said the Senior Undersecretary in his most condescending tone.
“Too bad it won’t be for long,” the Minister giggled uncharacteristically.
“I beg your pardon Ma’am?” The card-shuffling unspeakable was utterly
bewildered.
All of a sudden he had a bad feeling that something was terribly wrong.
Stunning spells emerged from thin air behind the three Unspeakables, and all
three of them collapsed to the floor in a heap. The Minister, short and squat
as she was, loomed over the prone Unspeakables and pointed her wand at each in
turn.
“Obliviate,” the Minister murmured three times. Then she and an unseen force
hauled the unconscious Unspeakables back to their seats around the little
table.
“I’ve found the keys,” said a disembodied voice, and a jangling key-ring
festooned with keys floated out of the card-shuffling Unspeakable’s robes.
“That’ll make things even easier.”
“Excellent Hermione!” said the Senior Undersecretary, who was rifling through
papers, files, and pamphlets on a nearby desk. “Let’s get Mr Weasley out of
here now.”
                                     ~o0o~
Arthur Weasley moaned as he shifted, and his iron shackles clanked. Every nerve
ending in his body was on fire, his stomach hurt from lack of food, and his
mouth was cracked and dry. Arthur’s jailers had fed him, but a few slices of
bread had done very little to curb the hunger pangs. And the most water he’d
had was when some Unspeakables had tested out a muggle torture technique on him
the day before yesterday.
His foggy brain couldn’t quite remember what they had called it. For some
reason he wanted to say “surfboarding,” but that didn’t seem quite right. A
deep groaning sound caught Arthur’s attention, and he looked up to see the
heavy iron door of his cell swing slowly open. He narrowed his eyes when he saw
who it was and glared venomously at Percy.
Wait... something was wrong. Percy’s face seemed to melt and change. Arthur
began to wonder if he’d finally cracked and gone loopy. That couldn’t possibly
be...
“No! Impossible...” he said in a creaky voice. “It can’t be you!”
“Mr Weasley - it is me, Harry Potter! We’re getting you out of here. Just hang
on a moment...” The figure with Harry Potter’s face pointed a wand at Arthur’s
shackles, and they burst open, releasing his wrists and ankles.
Arthur peered at the toad-like form next to the person claiming to be Harry
Potter. He gasped when her face turned into wax and reshaped itself.
“T...Tonks, is that really you?” he gasped.
“Wotcher Arthur... it’s really me!” Tonks replied, grinning broadly. “And we’re
really bustin’ you loose. Just stay quiet for a bit. And don’t mind this for
now...” Tonks bound Arthur’s wrist to her own. “...that’s just so I don’t lose
you on the way out, alright. Now stay quiet and watch yourself - Harry’s
turnin’ you invisible, and I’m gonna put my invisibility cloak back on in a few
minutes when we get to the exit...”
Arthur couldn’t believe what was happening. Tonks helped him stagger to his
feet as her face changed back into the Minister’s; Harry’s features changed
back into Percy’s. The next thing Arthur knew, his entire body became
transparent, then vanished completely.
                                     ~o0o~
As the fake Minister and the invisible Parvati helped the equally invisible
Arthur Weasley stumble through the corridor in the Department of Mysteries, the
unseeable Hermione murmured in the fake Percy’s ear.
“Harry, that’s the room with the Time-Turners which we saw on the way to Mr
Weasley’s cell, I think we should do something about it. What if...?”
“...What if the Minister thinks of using them to change what’s happening right
now when she finds out that Mr Weasley’s gone? Good point Hermione,” Harry-
Percy muttered in response. “I’ll set a few delayed spells in the room to go
off in five minutes.”
It only took a moment for Harry-Percy to set the delayed charges: a Bombarda
Maxima, a Reductor Curse, and a Confringo... Perhaps it was a bit of overkill,
but Harry wanted to be certain that the job was done completely. Then they
continued on, keeping an eye out for more Unspeakables as they followed behind
Dora-Umbridge.
Harry walked hand in hand with his invisible Hermione, past the door which had
mysteriously opened as they had strolled by ten minutes ago going the other
direction. Harry-Percy glanced once more into the room at the fountain of
Amortentia and shook his head with a snort. The door shut of its own accord
once Harry and Hermione had passed it.
The Potters both knew implicitly that the Ministry would never understand the
pulsating glowing Orb in the centre of the room which had sung out to Harry and
Hermione as they had passed it previously. The Ministry’s comprehension of Love
was almost as lacking as Voldemort’s. Having a vat of Amortentia at their
disposal was never going to help them unlock the secrets of the Orb of Love.
“This shouldn’t be a secret, Hermione - none of this research should be. It
should all be accessible to the public,” Harry whispered to his invisible wife.
“One day Harry, when we’ve dealt with the Minister...” said Hermione. “We’ll
try and set all of this right.”
Finally Harry-Percy reached the portrait of Prometheus where Phineas Nigellus
was waiting for them all. Harry helped the invisible Hermione clamber back into
the painting. Once he was certain that Parvati, Dora, and Arthur Weasley were
all inside the painting too, Harry leapt up into the frame to join them.
“Thanks for everything Prometheus...” Harry said as he slipped on his
invisibility cloak.
“You are welcome Harry Potter... I am most grateful to have met you - and your
charming invisible wife,” Prometheus said with a wink. “Do not worry about the
abomination who calls herself the Minister... Your secrets are safe with me!”
“Yes... yes! The Potters are delightful - everyone loves them...” snorted
Phineas Nigellus “...let’s get a move on...”
As Harry passed beyond the edge of the frame he heard the rumble of several
explosions and knew that the Room of Time was destroyed.
Phineas Nigellus led his invisible charges through the other paintings and
portraits in the Ministry - none of them the wiser - past the bored Aurors and
Unspeakables guarding the corridor which contained the cell of the polyjuiced
Unspeakable named Brookstone - and finally reached his own portrait. Then he
walked out of the frame and disappeared from the Ministry.
                                     ~o0o~
Having returned to Number Twelve, Harry undid the Disillusionment Spells before
climbing out of the painting, so that everyone could find their footing easily.
Dora and Parvati each had Mr Weasley under an arm.
“Zey are back,” Fleur let out a huge sigh of relief when she spotted the
Potters appear in the painting.
“Oh thank goodness you’re all safe...” Daphne squealed as Harry and Hermione
emerged from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.
“Here, let me help,” said Fleur breathlessly, taking the arm of the groaning
Arthur Weasley from Parvati, who looked like she was about to collapse. “Mr
Weasley should be in bed...”
Dora and Fleur settled Arthur into the bed in the room nearest to Number
Twelve’s library. Moments later Daphne and Luna arrived with fresh water,
towels, washcloths, and medical supplies.
“Just sips Mr Weasley...” Daphne said worriedly as Arthur tried to gulp from
the glass of water she was holding for him. “Too much all at once could make
you throw up!”
“Does anyone know a good healing spell?” Luna asked as she dabbed Arthur’s
sore, bleeding wrists with a wet cloth.
Dora fumbled for her wand, puffed as she was from hauling Mr Weasley back to
Number Twelve with Parvati, but Fleur already had her own wand in hand. Fleur
muttered the incantation and the bloody marks left by the iron shackles faded
from Arthur’s wrists. Luna began to dab at Mr Weasley’s feverish sweaty brow
instead as Daphne put the empty glass of water down and tipped a pain potion
and a calming draught into his mouth.
“Will he be alright?” Jennifer asked anxiously as she peered around Harry,
Hermione, and Parvati in the doorway.
“He should be now...” gasped Harry with a nod, still panting as his pumping
adrenaline began to subside.
“...but it might be a few days,” continued Hermione, her glistening eyes full
of concern. “He’s clearly been neglected and tortured...”
“Probably the Cruciatus Curse, and who knows what else...?” Harry muttered
angrily.
“Eeek!” Parvati squealed and jumped, bristling when Dobby startled everyone,
suddenly appearing with a loud crack.
“Dobby takes over now,” squeaked the eager House-Elf, who appeared to be
holding a tureen of broth and a ladle. He set it down on the bedside table and
took the damp wash-cloth from Luna to dab Mr Weasley’s forehead himself.
“Are you certain?” Fleur asked dubiously.
“Dobby knows what to do, Mistress Fleur - Dobby is looking after many sick
people before. House-Elves is knowing how to do some healing... Master and
Mistresses must get their rest now.”
“It’s alright Fleur,” said Harry, grinning for the first time since his return.
“Mr Weasley is in good hands.”
“Master Harry and Mistresses must go now - must eat and rest after long day.
Dobby leaves midnight snack in the kitchen...” Dobby said, giving everyone a
stern look.
Feeling much more cheerful, everyone began to realise that they were indeed
famished, as nobody had been able to eat much all day, and gradually they all
filed down the stairs to find the “midnight snack,” discovering that Dobby had
indeed prepared for a triumphant return. On the table in the kitchen they found
trays loaded with crackers, cheeses, sausage rolls, and crisps, and a variety
of olives and dips next to bottles of butterbeers.
The Potters and their friends picked up the heavily laden trays and retired to
the parlour. But before regaling the others with the details, Harry made a very
important mirror-call.
“You’ve got Arthur? Excellent!” Sirius beamed after Harry had informed him of
their successful mission. “How did it go? You have to tell me everything...”
“Later Sirius,” Lupin admonished Sirius with a grin. “Let Harry rest for now -
he can fill us in on the details tomorrow...”
Finally slumping in an armchair, Harry took a deep swig from a bottle of
Butterbeer while Hermione, Dora, and Parvati regaled the others with the full
story. Luna held her sides, in stitches from laughing so hard as she rolled
around on the floor.
“That’s f...funny - ‘more time... to v...visit... Ministry’s Unemployment
Services Division’ --Hahahahahaha...!”
“Mind you, the Unspeakable probably will be looking for a new job when the real
Minister discovers that Mr Weasley’s gone in a few hours,” Parvati chortled.
“Anyway,” Dora continued, roaring with laughter herself, “My favourite bit was
when Harry said, ‘This one at least seems to have his head in the right
place’... ‘e sounded just like that pompous prat, Percy Weasley...”
“I almost lost it when the one Unspeakable said that they weren’t expecting you
two - and Dora retorted ‘That much is obvious’....” Hermione giggled.
Daphne and Jennifer both had tears of laughter in their eyes and Fleur was
giggling too. It was nearly 4:30 in the morning, but sleep appeared to be an
impossibility for the near future. After the giggles died down, the muggle
television was turned on and beams of sunlight were pouring through the window
before the lot of them fell asleep on the sofas and the armchairs in the
parlour.
                                     ~o0o~
“Gone? What do you mean Arthur Weasley is gone?” fumed Minister Umbridge. “I
just came from the Detention Centre - and Brookstone is still there.”
“N...no Minister... I m...mean the r...real Arthur Weasley is gone!” stammered
the Unspeakable “I...I was s...sitting outside his cell all night with the
other g...guards. We o...opened his c...cell t..to do a morning check... and he
was just... gone. And...and th...the T...T...Time Room. It’s utterly
destroyed!”
The Unspeakable led the Minister to the Room of Time and she stared at the
smouldering, twisted wreckage. The time-turners, the hour-glasses, the bell
jar, the clocks - all demolished. Nothing was left but the mangled, blackened
innards of Brass clockwork, scattered sand, shards of glass, and charred
splinters of wood.
“But that’s impossible!” the Minister snarled. “There is no indication that the
Ministry was breached last night. There is absolutely no sign of entrance at
all.”
Dolores Umbridge rubbed her forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. The Time
Room was a dead loss, but maybe the Weasley situation could still be salvaged.
“What about the Experimental Tracking Spell? Is it working?”
“That was the first thing we checked. B...but no! If Arthur Weasley travels, we
might be able to get a hit. But if he’s inside of a warded home with
Unplottable and Fidelius Charms - we still haven’t managed to crack those yet.”
“Right then!” Dolores snapped, “Tell the next watch to keep their eye on the
tracking monitor. Weasley will probably have to travel at some point. We’ll
track him then! Hopefully he’ll lead us to Dumbledore or the Potters when he
does move.”
Still seething with rage, the Minister thought it best to take the rest of the
day off and dose her migraine heavily with pain potions and calming draughts.
Dolores couldn’t afford to let her anger get the better of her, but her last
Potter induced hangover had truly been dreadful and she had no desire for a
repeat.
***** Chapter 65: The Lifely Hallows *****
Hermione sighed happily, her dream of dallying with Harry amidst a field of
vibrant wildflowers on a bright sunny day seemed deliciously real. She tingled
with elation as Harry’s ministrations brought her to a peak. Just as Hermione
thought it couldn’t get any better, the dream faded and her eyes fluttered
open, catching the scattered rays of golden sunlight streaming through the
frosted over window panes.
She squealed with delight to find her waking reality so much like the dream,
Harry’s head between her thighs and his tongue wriggling inside her. Hermione’s
toes curled; she ran her fingers through his messy black hair as she trembled
blissfully a second time, her sheath contracting and releasing in rapid
succession around the wet warm appendage as she burst and released a flood of
nectar.
Hermione’s thighs clamped tightly, trapping Harry’s head between them as he
continued to lave her vulva mercilessly without stopping. Gasping, Hermione
shuddered ecstatically, her head spinning and sparks of magic flying as she
climaxed again and again.
Finally, Hermione giddily slumped back against her pillow, dazed and panting,
her breasts heaving. Harry’s grinning head emerged from between her legs; he
wiped his face and crawled up the bed beside her to give her a gentle kiss.
Hermione beamed at him.
“That... that was amazing,” she gasped breathlessly.
“It’s your Christmas Present...” Harry chortled. “It’s only the second day of
Christmas after all and I had to give you something.”
“Mmm... It was lovely Harry! Thank you! Do you want your present now? Or do you
want to save your energy for later?”
“Er... later?”
“Well, Ginny’s coming for Boxing Day, remember?”
“Yeah... But I thought... for Luna...” Harry’s eyes widened when it hit him.
“OH! Er... You mean we’re going to do the Coven thing today? ... What about
Parvati?”
“Apparently Ginny and Luna have it all worked out,” Hermione giggled.
“Parvati’s going to join them for a threesome.”
Harry gaped at Hermione. She giggled again; the expression on Harry’s face was
too precious, caught between bewilderment, anxiety, a hint of unintentional
arousal, and guilt for even thinking about it.
“Er... erm...” Harry didn’t know what to say.
Hermione pulled Harry closer and snogged him silly. When she finally released
his lips from her own, Harry looked dazed and giddy. He gave her a lopsided
grin.
“Blimey! Well I suppose we’ll give this a go then...”
By the time Harry and Hermione had showered, dressed, and arrived in the
kitchen for breakfast, everyone else was already sitting around the table with
Ginny and giggling, apparently discussing their plans for the day.
Ginny grinned at the Potters when she saw them enter the kitchen. When Harry
couldn’t quite meet her eyes - or Luna’s or Parvati’s either - she snorted
mirthfully and struggled to maintain her composure.
“Hi Harry, Hermione... Happy Christmas!”
“Happy Christmas Ginny! Er... You sure you won’t be missed at Hogwarts?” Harry
asked.
Ginny shook her head. “I’ll be fine. It’s Christmas Holidays. I told the girls
in my dorm that I might not be back till tomorrow morning - they think I’m just
going to a party and sleeping over at another House tonight... I didn’t tell
them exactly which one. And nobody else will even notice that I’m gone.”
“That’s brilliant Ginny!” Hermione beamed. “So, how was it getting here then?
Did everything go alright? Phineas Nigellus didn’t give you too much trouble I
hope?”
Ginny giggled and shook her head again. “No! Headmaster Black is really funny.
He acts all superior and like he hates kids, but I think it’s all for show...”
Harry grinned and finally looked Ginny in the eye. “Yeah... I sort of got that
impression too actually. He’s a bit of a laugh.”
Harry sat next to Hermione and breakfast got properly underway; he couldn’t
help feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, wondering if he would be
too embarrassed by the prospect of being within shouting distance of other
couples with just a bit of foliage for cover to perform. All of a sudden he
remembered a Rita Skeeter article and he groaned, palming his face.
“What’s wrong Harry?” asked Parvati.
Harry reddened. “Er... I was just thinking about that stupid ‘Secret Harem’
article Skeeter wrote...”
At that, everyone burst into gales of laughter. Luna laughed so hard that she
nearly fell out of her seat. Dora choked on the piece of toast she was
munching. Fleur patted her on the back and after a couple of coughs Dora gulped
down some orange juice to clear her throat.
“Yeah... Not so far off the mark after all, eh?” chortled Dora. “But really,
it’s not the same at all Harry. It’s not like you’ll be having sex with the lot
of us.”
That set off another round of uproarious hilarity and this time Luna really did
fall out of her chair. His face burning like a furnace turned on full, Harry
buried it in both hands and slumped on the table letting out another long
groan. Unable to control her own giggles, Hermione rubbed his back consolingly.
As everyone settled back down and the laughter abated, Harry wasn’t the only
one to be afflicted by anxious contemplation of the upcoming event. Daphne
glanced at Jennifer, wondering if she was really up to participating in the
Coven ritual. Though she and Jennifer had grown more and more intimate, on each
occasion Daphne had been the recipient of Jennifer’s amorous affections and it
seemed to Daphne that Jennifer was avoiding Daphne’s tentative attempts to
reciprocate.
Jennifer caught Daphne’s look and turned pink, correctly surmising Daphne’s
quandary.
“I’ll be alright,” Jennifer murmured. “I’m ready for this. I’m sure of it.”
Parvati kept glancing nervously at Luna and Ginny, who both seemed very eager
and not at all anxious about participating in a threesome. Parvati had to admit
that she had enjoyed “practicing” with Luna very much, more than she had
thought she would. And somehow - as embarrassing as it was - the idea that
Ginny was watching them through the mirror had made it even more exciting.
But this was different. This time it would be all three of them together; and
though the idea of it was arousing, Parvati wondered if she would be able to
follow through when it came right down to it.
Fleur and Dora peered at the others perceptively as breakfast was finished in a
much quieter manner than it had begun.
The rest of Boxing Day morning and early afternoon was spent giving Ginny a
tour of Jennifer’s estate and lounging around chatting and watching the muggle
television. Harry grinned and shook his head when Ginny teased him a little bit
about being Luke Skywalker after Luna insisted on playing the videotape of Star
Wars for her.
Finally the agreed upon time arrived; it had been decided to take a late lunch
(or early Tea) and eat it by the pond before beginning the ritual while it was
still light outside.
The sky was clear as they all shuffled through the snowy gardens to the pond.
Even though she had seen it earlier that morning, Ginny still couldn’t get over
the fact that it seemed like a balmy Spring afternoon once they had passed
across the snow line into the meadow grasses. Her skin tingled as she entered
the glade with the others and like everyone else had the day before, she looked
to Hermione for answers.
“I’m really not sure Ginny,” Hermione admitted when Ginny asked. “Even a hot-
spring wouldn’t be able to explain the willows keeping their leaves and the
wildflowers blooming at this time of year. It probably has something to do with
an ancient enchantment we think might have been placed on the pond, but without
more information, I can’t really be certain.
“Anyway, Harry and I will take the North End of the pond, and I think it makes
most sense for you and Luna and Parvati to take the South End. I don’t think it
really matters who takes East or West though...”
“You alright with West, Daphne?” asked Jennifer.
Daphne looked to both sides of the pond, seeing very little difference; there
appeared to be plenty of bushes, grasses and wildflowers for cover.
“Er... yeah, I suppose,” she answered with a nervous giggle.
“Zat makes our decision much easier,” Fleur tittered, grinning at Dora.
“I’ll say,” Dora replied with a smirk, “Right then, I suppose we might as well
dig into this picnic basket first. So where do we wanna eat?”
In the end Harry chose the North side of the pond when it appeared that nobody
could make up their minds. Luna and Dora spread out a large red tartan blanket
between a mossy statue of a Faun playing pipes and a statue of a Nymph by the
water’s edge, and opened the picnic basket.
Inside was an array of cheeses and crackers, nuts, tangerines, mini-apple-pies,
and mince pies. Harry was also pleased to see that Fleur and Dora had thought
to pack several bottles of Merlot and Zinfandel, as he was still feeling a bit
anxious about the whole thing.
When everyone was finished and had departed to their own corners of the pond,
Harry felt a bit more relaxed, but not overly full, and only pleasantly tipsy,
much as he had following the Yule Ball.
As Harry lay on the blanket and watched the wintry sun draw nearer to the tree-
line and puffy white clouds drawing nearer, a sense of tranquility settled over
him. It was hard for Harry to believe that less than forty eight hours ago he
had felt like he’d never be at peace again. With a sigh of contentment Harry
pulled his wooly jumper over his head and tugged off his jeans, preparing
himself for the now much less daunting task of engaging in a Coven Ritual.
After pulling her own jumper over her head, Hermione was a bit surprised, but
not at all unpleased, when she turned around to find a pretty girl with
windswept black hair and iridescent green eyes lying beside her.
“How come you changed into Harriet?” she asked, “Not that I mind of course.”
“Er... I just... er... I reckoned this was supposed to be a Coven Ritual,” said
Harriet with a shy grin.
“Well, I think it’s really what’s inside you that counts, Harriet,” said
Hermione kindly. “Just be whoever you want to be. I’ll be happy either way.”
Harriet grinned and pulled Hermione closer, taking it upon herself to relieve
Hermione of her remaining pieces of clothing.
One of Harriet’s hands was already kneading Hermione’s firm breasts, her lips
already wetly encircling one of Hermione’s tender pink nipples, and her fingers
already traversing the silky skin of Hermione’s inner thighs when she could
have sworn she heard squeals and giggles coming from the far end of the pond.
But all distractions fell away when Harriet felt Hermione’s lips nuzzling her
neck and Hermione’s fingers seeking out her own heated entrance...
                                     ~o0o~
Hidden from view of the others by the leafy foliage, tall grasses and
wildflowers, Ginny, Luna, and Parvati got underway. Luna wasted no time and was
as naked as the day she had been born within seconds of arrival.
Parvati shrieked and giggled when Ginny and Luna began pulling all her clothes
off. She blushed furiously when every inch of her was exposed to their eager
eyes. While she and Luna had been “practicing,” they had remained more or less
covered up with their hands reaching under t-shirts and into unzipped jeans.
This was the first time that Parvati had ever been completely nude in the
presence of others, and her embarrassment only seemed to fuel the heady tingles
of arousal sweeping through her. Luna pulled Parvati closer for a wet kiss and
Parvati could feel Ginny’s hands parting her thighs for a closer look.
Parvati wriggled joyfully when she felt Ginny’s fingers brush against the
trimmed black patch on her mound. She began to feel a bit dizzy when Luna’s
hands mauled her breasts and Luna began hungrily sucking her long dark nipples,
and when Ginny’s fingers finally stroked the pouting lips of her burning
entrance Parvati let out a little gasp.
The gasp became a squeal of delight when two of the fingers plunged inside her
and Ginny began teasing Parvati’s little button with the fingers of her other
hand.
Nothing Parvati could remember had ever felt this good; being at the tender
mercies of Ginny and Luna simultaneously made her fun with Luna the other day
under Ginny’s watchful eye pale in comparison.
Parvati widened her thighs even more to allow Ginny greater access, and soon
Ginny’s fingers were plunging to her depths, building up speed, the delicious
friction inside her wet heat sending her into new transports of pleasure. A
surge of giddiness finally tipped Parvati over the edge and she shuddered,
squealing and bursting ecstatically.
For a moment, lost in the fog of ardour, gasping as she fell back onto the
blanket, Parvati thought it was over. But Ginny had taken Luna’s place and was
now pressed up against her, rubbing her own breasts against Parvati’s, and
Parvati felt her thighs being parted once more.
Parvati squeaked and her eyes widened in shock when she felt Luna’s lips
pressed against her slit.
“Luna... What...?” she giggled nervously when she felt Luna’s tongue inside
her.
“Just go with it,” Ginny chortled, giving Parvati a kiss, “You’ll love it... I
swear...”
Parvati did love it. And soon the three girls fell into a wanton scrum,
squealing and giggling as they brought each other to climax again and again.
                                     ~o0o~
Jennifer beamed at Daphne and kissed her, stroking her beautiful blonde hair,
still gasping as the euphoria ebbed, Daphne’s hand still resting between her
bare thighs. The warmth of Daphne’s skin next to her own filled her with joy.
She had been more than a bit nervous at first, afraid that letting Daphne
reciprocate might trigger a nasty reaction. But nothing could have been further
from the truth. All Jennifer felt was loved. Jennifer bit her lip as her senses
returned, eager for more.
Daphne felt a surge of elation when Jennifer leaned into the deepening kiss,
glad that the other girl had finally overcome her anxiety. The blanket shifted
under Daphne as she rolled onto her back with Jennifer atop her. She reached up
to cup Jennifer’s breasts and gently squeeze them as Jennifer cradled Daphne’s
bottom cheeks with her hands and slid one of her own legs between Daphne’s,
grinding her wetness against Daphne’s thigh.
Soon, the grasses beneath the pair of witches and the foliage around them
rustled again as the passion stirred them once more...
                                     ~o0o~
In between one of their own bouts of passion, Fleur got up on her hands and
knees and peeked through the grasses when they heard squeals and giggles echo
across the pond, seeing nothing but trembling bushes and reeds as the gathering
clouds above caught the last pink rays of the setting sun. Dora chortled as she
came up from behind and leaned against her girlfriend, her ample globes
squashed against Fleur’s back.
“You were right Chérie,” Fleur tittered. “Just a leetle wine to loosen everyone
up. Per’aps we get back to eet...?”
“Mmhmm... Sounds good,” Dora murmured in her ear, reaching around to fondle
Fleur’s breasts “But stay right there. I like this position...”
Fleur’s eyes widened and a tremor of delight shot through her when she felt the
tip of her metamorphmagus lover’s stiff magically endowed member pressing
between the pink petals of her entrance.
                                     ~o0o~
Giddy with exhilaration after bringing each other to completion several times,
Hermione had convinced Harriet that it was time to be a boy again. Now on her
hands and knees, Hermione giggled, enticing Harry to take her from behind by
wiggling her petit bottom at him.
Harry needed very little persuading; grinning, he leaned over Hermione’s
backside and grasped her hips, sliding his length inside her.
As their passions resumed, Harry and Hermione both felt it - a rushing
sensation - an almost volcanic surge of euphoria - one final burst of explosive
ardour as they merged. Harry flooded Hermione’s vessel with his essence, both
of them gasping, crying out as they were carried away by the currents of bliss
swirling around the entire pond.
The cheerful sounds of ecstatic communion reverberated and as the purple
shadows of dusk fell over the glade, multicoloured bolts of lightning crackled
and arced across the rippling pond from one corner to another. The willows and
evergreens swayed, limbs dancing in the turbulent gusts of wind sweeping
through the trees.
Then it was over; silence and stillness reigned in the clearing with the pond
as twilight passed into night.
                                     ~o0o~
Luna was the first to wake, finding herself in a tangle of limbs, inextricably
entwined with Ginny and Parvati. Blinking, it took her a few moments to realise
what she was seeing.
“We turned into fairies,” Luna squealed gleefully. “Ginny... Parvati... Wake
up...”
Parvati and Ginny both stirred.
“Luna,” Ginny grumbled as she rubbed her eyes, “What’s going on?”
“Open your eyes silly! Look! We turned into fairies...”
“Oh my God!” squeaked Ginny, “I’m glowing! Why am I glowing?”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. It appeared to be night, and he
felt as if he were floating on gossamer, drifting through a sea of luminous
stars, nestled in Hermione’s warm embrace. An ethereal swell of breathy
tinkling music filled his soul with a sublime, peaceful joy, and tingles of
magic rippled across his skin.
It was only when Hermione stirred and gasped that Harry was certain that he was
awake. Though the night sky above was dark and clouded over, the glade
surrounding the pond was lit with the silvery luminescence of a thousand tiny
glowing fairies cheerfully flitting to and fro. The surface of the pond
shimmered in their starry light.
The Potters held each other, gaping in wonderment at the beauty all around
them, lost in the moment. The reverie was broken when a squeal of happiness
caught their ears and Luna burst through the leafy foliage. Harry goggled for a
moment before clapping a hand over his eyes and quickly yanking a bit of
blanket over himself to cover his privates.
“Blimey Luna! Put on some clothes,” Harry moaned, his face blazing hotly.
“We’re fairies,” Luna shrieked gleefully, jumping up and down. “Look, Harry!
... We’re fairies!”
Caught off-guard, and embarrassed herself, it took Hermione a moment to realise
what was happening. She glanced at Luna, herself, and Harry, her eyes widening.
The silvery luminous glow in the glade wasn’t just coming from the fairies, but
from themselves - their own wet nude figures - as well. That was when Hermione
also noticed it was raining.
Hermione tugged on her knickers and t-shirt and threw Harry’s t-shirt and
boxers at him, and not a moment too soon. Ginny and Parvati had arrived behind
Luna, gasping and out of breath as they had hurriedly dressed before chasing
after Luna. Harry groaned and turned around as he quickly pulled on his boxers.
“Hermione,” Ginny squeaked anxiously, “I can’t be glowing! I can’t be... I
can’t go back to Hogwarts like this!”
And mere seconds later, Fleur and Dora appeared, both glowing and looking
equally perplexed. Harry counted his blessings that they at least had all taken
the time to dress, and did his best not to look at Luna who was still bouncing
on her toes and waving her arms as if hoping to take flight like the tiny
fairies fluttering around them all.
“So... er... why are we glowing Hermione?” asked Harry.
“I... I really have no idea Harry,” Hermione was utterly flummoxed as she held
up her glowing arm to the night sky. “Maybe it’s something to do with the
ancient enchantment on the pond?” Hermione peered at Fleur, wondering if the
part-Veela had any ideas.
Feeling a bit less embarrassed, Harry rubbed his chin pensively and glanced at
the statues of the Faun and the Water-Nymph, wondering if they held any
answers. Something about the Naiad in particular rang a bell.
“Hermione... er... These statues - there’s something about them. D’you think
they might have something t’do with it?” he asked.
Hermione considered things for a moment, and realised that Harry might be onto
something.
“Well...” Hermione raised an eyebrow at her metamorphic husband and Dora and
the Greek statues, half-smirked, and looked at their part-Siren friend Fleur
again. “...Has anyone heard of the myth of Hermaphroditus?”
There was some more rustling of foliage indicating that Daphne and Jennifer had
finally arrived. Daphne looked a bit frightened. For a moment the Coven peered
around the illuminated glade and at each other’s glowing figures in
bewilderment as the raindrops fell.
“So, what’s going on? Why are we glowing?” Jennifer asked, raising her eyebrows
and smirking at Luna who was quivering with excitement.
“I think we turned into fairies,” said Luna eagerly. “Hermione was just going
to tell us how...”
“Well... er... I wouldn’t say that exactly, Luna,” Hermione interjected, her
face reddening even through the silvery luminescence radiating from her skin.
“We really shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I... I was just going to make some
inferences and speculations based on the symbolism of some of the Greek myths
associated with some of the statues surrounding the pond - they were obviously
placed here when the manor was originally built in the 16th century...”
“That’s right,” said Jennifer. “When Daddy bought the place, that’s what the
estate agent told him. The Countess who originally lived here had this whole
place built here just because she liked the pond - she’s the one who had the
statues put around it.”
“Right,” said Hermione as she geared up for lecture mode, “but the magic here
feels much older - predating the Romans even by many hundreds of years. So I
think the Countess might have been magical and sensed the enchantment at this
site then - or she knew about it somehow...”
“If the Countess was a witch, maybe she was descended from one of the original
inhabitants?” Harry proffered.
“That’s certainly a possibility,” agreed Hermione. “There’s really no way to be
certain when we’re talking about thousands of years before her time even.”
“So, what were you going to tell us about the myth of Hermaphroditus?” asked
Luna.
“Well, one of the versions of the myth of Hermaphroditus - who was the son of
Aphrodite and Hermes - involves a Naiad...” Hermione began.
“Oh... you mean the son of Aphrodite, the Greek Sorceress who guards our
corridor?” Daphne interrupted, glimmering with surprise.
“Possibly... that’s not very likely actually,” Hermione smiled kindly at Daphne
as she tried to explain. “You have to understand, muggles built up a lot of
myths and legends around ancient sorcerers, and many were made out to be gods
and goddesses, or demons, and that sort of thing.
“And many of the stories associated with ancient witches and wizards are
actually based on earlier stories from even older human societies, and
prehistoric beliefs about nature spirits from before writing was invented. So
it’s all a mixed up jumble really, and it would be very difficult to sort out
which stories have a basis in fact, and which were just made up to explain
natural phenomenon and human nature.
“In any case, in Ovid’s version of the myth, Hermaphroditus was born a boy and
one day he encountered a Naiad - a Water Nymph - named Salmacis at her pond.
She was smitten by him and tried to seduce him, and he was... er... a bit
reticent,” Hermione flushed in embarrassment at telling a story which featured
a lack of consent.
“So she forcibly embraced and kissed him, and begged the gods to let them never
be parted. The gods granted her wish, but in a way that she probably didn’t
expect. Salmacis and Hermaphroditus were merged into one being, and so
Hermaphroditus who had entered the pond as a boy, exited as a ‘creature of both
sexes’... both boy and girl.
“The upshot is, that Hermaphroditus prayed to his parents to curse the pond to
change any man who enters it into half man, half woman...”
“Well that’s not a very nice story,” squeaked Daphne, who started to look
alarmed again.
“You’re right, it’s not,” said Hermione. “I was really just joking a bit
because of the irony of our situation... the magic pond, the Greek symbolism,
Harry being able to change from a boy into a girl... and Dora being able to
change from a girl into a boy if she wanted to, for that matter”
“But you don’t have to worry Daphne... I didn’t curse the pond. I promise!”
Harry grinned. “It’s not a bad thing - whatever happened to us is good... I
just know it! But it is oddly coincidental...”
“And it’s actually just one of many myths about Hermaphroditus,” Hermione added
quickly. “It’s a later version by Ovid of how Hermaphroditus came to have both
boy and girl parts. The symbolism of Hermaphroditus him/herself had already
long stood as a representation of marriage and love - the joining of both
sexes... And that’s really the most important bit - the bit I was leading up
to...”
Parvati gasped.
“That’s a bit like some of the stories in some of Mum and Dad’s books from
India,” Parvati interjected, blushing furiously through her own silvery
luminous glow. “I’m actually glad that most wizards don’t read muggle myths....
I don’t think I could have lived it down if everyone at Hogwarts knew that my
name comes from a love goddess - Parvati, the consort of Shiva. And in some of
the later myths, Parvati and Shiva merge to become Ardhanarishvara: ‘the Lord
Who is Half-Woman.’”
“Exactly!” Hermione agreed, gleaming. “I think what these characters and
stories embody is most important. They shouldn’t be taken too literally. It’s
the mythic symbolism which has the most bearing on the Magic. Aphrodite, Pan,
Eros, Hermaphroditus, etc... their stories are symbols.
“Fertility, Sexuality, Marriage, Love - all Creative, life affirming acts and
rituals... That’s what these particular mythological beings in these particular
stories most represent. And I expect this site used to be one where groups of
Celtic witches - very likely Covens - performed Sex Rituals not unlike what we
experienced here this afternoon.
“In a sense... this is literally Hallowed Ground! And I think we may have
inadvertently triggered the Ancient Enchantment - reactivated it - by re-
enacting some of the Sex Rituals which created it to begin with.
“And I feel exactly like I did in that lab we found in the Department of
Mysteries!” exclaimed Harry eagerly, feeling absolutely certain that Hermione
was on the right track. “The one with that glowing ‘Orb of Love.’ D’you think
there’s a connection Hermione?”
“I think there might be Harry,” Hermione nodded slowly. “That may be why the
Fairies are attracted to this area - or perhaps the Fairies were here first and
attracted the witches. In any case, Harry, it would seem to fit with what
Dumbledore told us after the Third Task. He told us that he hadn’t detected
magic like ours in modern Britain and Europe, except in the most ancient
magical places for witchcraft, and also in some schools for witches in Asia.”
Fleur had been listening intently the entire time. Her breath quickened as she
felt a thrill of understanding, a connection to her Veela heritage in a way she
never had before.
“Oui, zat makes much sense,” said Fleur. “It was told to me by my grandmother,
that Veela also have an affinity for such places - and that we are related to
these little creatures flying around us now - zese Fairies... I do not know
enough to know for certain, but at this moment, it feels true.
“When Veela dance and sing, when Veela experience joy, when Veela love - there
is something about our spirit which makes us glow, like zis... But as only a
small part Veela, I ‘ave never experienced it as strong as this before.
“Per’aps zat means Luna is onto something, not so much that we are all turning
into Fairies, but rather, that as witches - as magical humans - our spirits are
now of such a high frequency that we are in alignment with ze Fairies... We
cannot help but glow as they do, as the Veela do...”
“I knew it!” Luna beamed.
Parvati’s eyes widened again and she quivered with excitement when another
thought occurred to her.
“That actually fits some of the other bits that I’ve read of my Mum and Dad’s
books if it’s true,” said Parvati. “If someone practices certain types of yoga
long enough, they can activate something called the Kundalini Shakti. It’s the
primal Female Energy which the Universe is supposedly created from. And when
people produce a lot of it, their auras are supposed to be so bright that
everyone can see them...”
“Shakti the goddess is also the personification of the Shakti energy from what
I remember reading in my Auntie Joanne’s books on Hinduism,” Hermione mused.
“In some schools of thought, she’s worshipped as the Supreme Being - the top of
the Hindu pantheon... and isn’t Parvati just another name for Shakti?”
Parvati’s silvery glow reddened again as she grimaced and nodded, glistening in
the rain.
“Yes... but she’s got loads of other names too,” Parvati squeaked. “It depends
on which aspect she’s displaying at any given time.”
“So I guess in a way this more or less proves I really do have a female soul
then?” said Harry. “But I still don’t quite get how that all squares with the
hermaphrodite stuff, the... er... the androgyny... Even with a female soul and
being able to turn into a girl, but primarily being a guy, how is it possible
to activate this magic if it’s primarily generated by females? I mean, I turned
back into a guy partway through while we were... er... doing it a little while
ago.”
Dora had been thinking about it the whole time, wondering exactly what Harry
was wondering as she listened, and suddenly everything seemed to fall into
place.
“Because we all have male and female aspects to our natures,” Dora said,
flourescing brightly as her eyes widened with a flare of gnosis. “Maybe we
don’t all ‘ave the outer physical potential to be both, like you and me Harry,
but we must all have male and female aspects of our spirits and our souls -
even though one might be more dominant than the other.
“In our group, we might all be predominantly female on the inside, including
you Harry... but ultimately we girls must’ve ‘ad to activate both aspects of
our own energy to trigger the magic too - the male aspect inside of us as well.
It must be necessary to ‘ave both parts activated to bring us to this level of
magic. That’s what the myths about the bisexual and androgynous deities seem to
be sayin’ anyway.
“I suppose when we girls ‘ave sex with each other, at any given time, someone
is taking on the ‘male’ role, and the physical act was enough symbolically to
activate the male aspects of our spirits. That probably goes both ways... guys
‘ave to be able to activate the female aspect in themselves to make it work -
and yours is already active Harry.”
“Okay... yeah,” Harry nodded as he pensively chewed his lip. “Yeah, I think I
get that.”
“Of course! That’s it Dora!” Hermione beamed. “Obviously some men have
historically achieved such high frequency levels of magic... They must have.
But it must be much more difficult because most men aren’t comfortable at all
with their feminine aspects. They’re afraid of it and aren’t willing to let
that side of themselves grow strong.
“Maybe not so many women are put off exploring both sides of their natures, and
maybe that’s why most of the successful Covens have been all witches. Perhaps
in the ones with men that worked, they were willing to take on female sexual
roles during the rituals,” Hermione concluded.
“Well, considering that loads of guys still seem to think that they’re superior
to women, it’s not that much of a surprise really,” said Harry. “Most guys
think being ‘girly’ is a bad thing.”
“Yes, but it’s actually not so bad in the wizard world as it still is in much
of the muggle world really,” said Hermione. “For all of its problems, and the
misogyny that still does exist to a degree, in some respects, gender relations
are a bit more equal than they are in the muggle world.”
“It’s not perfect parity by any means,” Hermione continued. “I know that
there’s vestiges of patriarchy left in the Wizengamot, what with mostly men
being Heads of the Pureblood Houses - and openly gay wizards aren’t treated
very well. But look at all the powerful witches throughout history, and gay and
bisexual witches seem to be generally accepted.
“Even today there’s lots of witches with power - even though some of them are
quite dreadful at the moment. It’s only the most retrograde families that want
to reinstate things like forced marriage contracts and human slavery.”
“That’s a good point Hermione,” said Dora. “Though with a witch as ‘orrible as
Umbridge running things right now - she seems dead set on bringing some of that
sort of thing back ‘erself - at least when it comes to Purebloods lording it
over ‘lesser’ witches and muggle women.”
“Yes... that’s very true!” Hermione said sadly. “But once she’s gone, and we’ve
cleaned up the Ministry a bit, things will hopefully at least go back to the
way things were before recently...”
“Yeah,” Harry interjected, looking hopeful, “...and then we can start trying to
improve things in the Wizengamot - push for a more democratic structure so that
it’s more representative of modern wizard society and other sentient magical
beings.”
Hermione smiled at her dripping husband as the shimmering Coven fell into a
contemplative silence, growing soggier as the rain grew heavier. Only the
tinkling sound of the delighted fairies flittering around them, and the
thrumming of the rain on the blades of grass and the surface of the pond could
be heard.
“So how long is this glowing going to last, do you think?” Ginny asked, hoping
that it would be gone by morning.
“And what does all this mean for our magic?” asked Harry, hoping that it meant
that the rest of the Coven would now be able to produce Patronuses like his and
Hermione’s.
“I really don’t know,” Hermione sighed. “We’ll just have to see in the morning,
and start doing some more research.”
Hermione was lost in thought all the way back to the manor, barely even
noticing the heavy snowfall once they had passed the border of the enchantment.
                                     ~o0o~
Fortunately for Ginny, the silvery luminous glow of their auras had faded by
the time the Coven awoke the following morning, and she departed through
Phineas Nigellus’s picture after giving Luna a kiss goodbye.
Hermione still didn’t have a good answer when she woke for what the glowing
meant for their magic in practical terms. They were in completely uncharted
territory. Fleur was the only member of the Coven who had ever experienced the
phenomenon at all, but never as strongly before, and only because she was part
Veela. There was no knowing for certain what it meant for everyone else.
Hermione dug out the books which she had been reading to Harry before the Coven
had gone on their mission and pored through them at the breakfast table after
eating a few quick spoonfuls of porridge and a crumpet. Everyone else watched
her intently while they ate, hoping for good news. Hermione frowned and bit her
lip, finally looking up from the books.
“Well, my best guess is that what happened at the pond was probably exactly
what we needed to do to perform Coven spells at their full potential. If so,
then that means the rest of you should be able to do Patronuses like me and
Harry now - at least when we’re conjuring them all together in ‘Cult-Mode’...”
“Excellent!” said Harry, grinning from ear to ear. As far as he was concerned,
that made putting up with the embarrassment of having sex with Hermione in the
near vicinity of the others worthwhile.
“...but I still don’t really know what the glowing has to do with it, other
than what Fleur surmised last night,” Hermione sighed. “There’s really nothing
in these books about auras... which seems a bit odd. I suppose I’ll just have
to wait until I get a chance to see if the library at Hogwarts has anything
about them.”
“I don’t know if they’ll be any help, but there are some books about auras in
my Mum and Dad’s library,” Jennifer suggested eagerly, her eyebrows raised.
That got everyone moving. In no time flat they were all cleaned up and
rummaging through the library, pulling books from the shelves looking for the
ones about auras.
“Cor... look at all these books of magic!” Dora exclaimed.
“Yeah... those were mostly my father’s - he was a bit New Agey,” Jennifer
explained. “Dad was more into that sort of thing than Mum - she was into it a
bit for fun, but she tended to be more skeptical.”
“I don’t understand,” Daphne muttered. “I thought muggles didn’t know anything
about magic.”
“Well loads of this is probably rubbish,” said Harry as he flipped through a
book which reminded him uncomfortably of the useless books he’d had to purchase
for Divination. “Some muggles make up a lot of stuff and believe it’s real. I
suppose some of them even think they really are magical...”
“Hmmm...” Hermione’s brows furrowed in thought as she leafed through a book
about Tantric Yoga after skimming through several books of Occultism and
Neopaganism.
Recognising the tone of Hermione’s “Hmmm,” Harry raised his eyebrows and
grinned. “Really Hermione?”
“Well... I’m not so sure what to think anymore Harry. Here... look at these
pictures of Chakras in this Tantric Yoga book - what do they remind you of?”
“Hunh... that’s interesting! They look a bit like some of the pictures in the
addendum at the end of The Wizarding Edition of the Tai Chi Classics.”
“Yes... they do Harry,” Hermione agreed. “They’re pictures of the major energy
centres of the human form - the Chinese system is just more detailed and
depicts all of the minor points and the meridians as well.
“If that were all there was to it, I wouldn’t think anything of it, because we
already know that all humans have some limited ability to control their own
magical energy fields. But what is indicated in the text as possible for anyone
to achieve - regardless of genetic predisposition - appears to go beyond what
ought to be possible.
“Now, of course that could just be wishful thinking on the part of the muggles
who wrote these books. But the level of detail in the instructions is highly
suggestive that a lot of trial and error went into it, which in turn implies
that this is more than just someone’s fantasy...”
Hermione pointed to several of the other books on the table. “...And at least
one of those books of Muggle Occultism seems to be extremely accurate regarding
the way magic works - too accurate to be coincidence or simple guesswork. I
wouldn’t be at all surprised if some of the spells in it would actually work
for someone with magical abilities.”
“But wouldn’t the Ministry and the International Confederation of Wizards try
and keep books about real magic out of muggle hands?” Daphne asked in
bewilderment.
“Per’aps zey are not so concerned about books written by muggles, because
muggles have no magical ability?” Fleur mused.
A little shiver of excitement ran up Harry’s spine as something clicked in his
brain and he shared a look with Hermione, his eyes wide. The rest of the Coven
held their breath, sensing that the Potters were on the verge of an
illuminating revelation.
“Hermione, if muggles really were totally non-magical then shouldn’t it be
impossible for any of them to learn how to do some of the amazing things that
some of them manage to do - even after decades of practice? ...like muggle
Shaolin Monks...”
“...and muggle Hindu Yogis, and muggle Tibetan Lamas... among others. One would
think so Harry.” Hermione bit her lip as her breath began to quicken.
“Before I found out I was a witch, I didn’t really believe in any of those
sorts of things. Like Mum and Dad, I thought it was all explainable through
standard scientific methods or otherwise fraudulent. I was very confused and
upset when unusual things would happen around me until the day I got my
Hogwarts letter.
“And I think you’re partially correct Fleur,” Hermione continued. “But for some
muggles to write such accurate books about magic, they’d have to have some sort
of experience with it.
“To answer your question Daphne, it’s probably almost impossible for wizards to
control all of the information about magic because so much of it is tied into
Muggle religions, myths, and legends - and most wizard governments probably
don’t even bother to try because they know that a lot of it is made-up... and I
expect they think that the bits that are real don’t matter because they believe
that Muggles have no magical abilities at all...”
“But what if they do?” Harry interjected eagerly. “What if all humans have
magical genes Hermione...?”
“Exactly Harry! They might be in everyone - but Recessive in most people - like
they were in Jennifer - just waiting to be activated!” Hermione exclaimed,
quivering excitedly. “But for the vast majority of humans it never happens
because it takes decades of diligent practice to activate them... and very few
people are able or willing to actually put in the effort...”
“Hermione, maybe THAT’S why the Pureblood Supremacists in the Ministry are so
worried and are claiming that Dumbledore is training Muggles how to be
wizards...” Harry postulated. “We all know it’s rubbish of course - that
they’re just making it up about Dumbledore - but what if the Unspeakables in
the Department of Mysteries really are worried that he actually might work out
how to turn muggles into wizards?”
“That... that could be why they’re bein’ so harsh and killing off muggleborns!”
Dora gasped.
“Yeah...” Harry agreed. “Maybe it’s not for the same reason they used to hate
muggles at all. Maybe now Purebloods - at least the ones in the Department of
Mysteries - hate muggles and muggleborn wizards because they’re afraid they
won’t be so Superior and Special as more and more wizards are born to muggle
families... The Purebloods that are smart know that their days of lording it
over everyone are numbered and they’re trying to hang onto power at any
cost...”
“Does... does that mean that one day in the future all humans might be born
magical then?” asked Daphne.
Eyes as wide as saucers, Hermione slowly nodded. Luna grinned, as if she had
suspected it all along.
“It might...” Hermione replied. “If what we’re inferring is true, then there
are muggles right now who have turned themselves into wizards of a sort - who
have somehow activated their magical genes and learned to perform some
rudimentary or limited magical techniques - but who aren’t generally believed
to be magical by most other muggles, or by born wizards...”
“So wizards really aren’t any more inherently magical than muggles,” said Harry
confidently. “It’s just that we were born with more natural ability to control
the magic than other people do because our genes are activated.”
“Y...yes, that’s a bit oversimplified Harry. Obviously there’s a bit more to
it, given the long wizarding family lines. But I’m really thinking that’s
basically the right of it in a nutshell,” Hermione beamed.
                                     ~o0o~
The next few days leading up to New Year’s Eve passed happily and lazily for
the Potters and their friends. Whatever dark thoughts and feelings still
lurking in the shadows of their souls since their encounter with the Inferi and
the raid on the Ministry’s Concentration Camp had been largely swept away by
the Coven Ritual.
To his great surprise, Harry was able to actually enjoy just laying about
reading and watching television without feeling agitated or restless. It felt
good to just let himself go for once. And of course having Hermione to cuddle
didn’t hurt.
But of course once New Year’s Eve day arrived, the anticipation began to build
as the evening drew nearer. Even lounging on the sofa with Hermione snuggled
under one arm, a mug of hot cocoa in one hand, and Crookshanks sprawled across
their laps wasn’t enough to distract Harry from the fact that Dumbledore would
soon be calling.
Finally, shortly before six pm, Harry was staring into Dumbledore’s clear blue
eyes in the mirror, eagerly awaiting Dumbledore’s tidings. Dumbledore seemed
pleased to see Harry’s enthusiasm.
“Well, I hope the timing isn’t too inconvenient,” said Dumbledore, his eyes
twinkling, “I know that many enjoy a good libation on New Year’s Eve. But I am
hoping that you will all be able to join us at Narcissa Black’s estate tomorrow
morning at 7 am.”
“Of course we can Professor Dumbledore!” Harry responded excitedly. Hermione
and the others nodded as they were all listening with bated breath. “So, are we
going to...”
“...Retake Hogwarts?” Dumbledore interjected, his eyes twinkling. “Yes indeed!
And I have you and Mrs Potter to thank for inspiring the plan of attack. With
the element of surprise, we should hopefully be able to minimise casualties on
all sides...”
“We’re going to use the pictures then?”
“Indeed!” replied Dumbledore. “There are a number of other paintings here at
Madam Black’s which are copies of those at Hogwarts, so we shall be able to
move several teams into the castle all at once. Now, I must be going as I have
a pressing engagement. However, you may wish to turn on your Wiz-Vision...”
                                     ~o0o~
“Some more Wine, Percy?”
“Oh... er... Yes please, Dolores.” Percy cheerfully held out his goblet as his
mentor refilled it.
Percy was feeling much better about things after deciding that he and Penelope
really didn’t belong together after all. Dolores was right; there were many
other lovely young Pureblood women, and a man of his station - the youngest
Senior Undersecretary in history - should have no problem ensnaring one for
himself.
Taking a sip from his freshly filled goblet, Percy returned his attention to
the Wiz-Vision screen for the final news broadcast of the year.
The splendidly coiffed William O’Hannity was regaling his cohost Endora with
his well considered opinion on the news of the day when suddenly the screen
went snowy. For a moment it went black altogether. Percy and Dolores regarded
the Wiz-Vision with puzzlement as the image returned.
Wine sprayed from their mouths and their eyes bulged in shock; the Minister and
her deputy would have recognised those clear blue eyes and that long silvery
beard anywhere. They both gaped in horror as the former Headmaster of Hogwarts
announced what they were just about to witness.
                                     ~o0o~
Having concluded his very important mirror-call to Harry Potter in private,
Albus Dumbledore took a seat in the elegant armchair in Monsieur Delacour’s
sitting room with Henri Delacour, his wife Appoline, Olympe Maxime, and the
three others who had been invited.
Albus regarded the three most important members of the ICW Committee for the
Investigation of Statutory Violations with twinkling eyes as they took their
own seats. Henri poured everyone glasses of wine from his own private reserve.
“Vell, Dumbledore... I hope you haff much more for us to go on zis time,”
snapped Angelika Machschnell, the stern German witch who headed the ICW’s
investigatory committee.
“And you must remember Albus, there is very little we can do regarding internal
blood-status policies unless they threaten to spill over to the International
Stage,” the Greek wizard from the committee added with an oily tone.
“Ah, indeed I do Pericles,” Dumbledore warmly replied. “I may be getting on in
my years, but it has not been so long since I was Supreme Mugwump after all...”
“Though, if certain rumours prove to be true, surely there must be something
that we at the ICW can do to help Britain!” interjected the Nigerian witch,
narrowing her eyes at the other two committee members.
“Oui! Olubunmi speaks wiz compassion and wisdom Monsieur Papadopoulos,” said
Madame Maxime haughtily. “If ze British Ministry ees employing the methods of
Grindelwald and Voldemort, eet is imperative zat those with a powerful voice
speak up to convince the rest of the Wizengamot to act.
“You see what is happening around ze world - Blood-Extremists everywhere are
emboldened! If Britain falls, ozzers take notice and then where are we?...”
Olympe continued.
“Thank you Olympe, Olubunmi,” Dumbledore interjected pointedly. “I am certain
that Pericles and Angelika will make the most appropriate decision. I do not
expect the ICW to join a potential civil war on one side or another. All I ask
for the time-being is that the current laws against collusion with muggle heads
of state, and against muggle oppression be upheld...”
Henri Delacour cleared his throat and took a swig of his wine, thinking it was
probably best to not mention that he and Olympe had already mobilised a number
of French forces to assist Dumbledore’s people. It wasn’t illegal for private
alliances across international borders, but some in the ICW might frown on it
nonetheless. Henri swallowed the mouthful of wine and listened to Albus’s
mellifluous voice as the true Headmaster of Hogwarts continued.
“...Though I daresay that in the future, it is my hope that what you are about
to witness will cause the ICW to revisit the International Secrecy Statutes. It
is my contention that the strictures are far too narrow.
“As it stands, the Statutes allow for some interaction between wizards and
muggles at only the Highest Level of State, with only a single point of contact
between governments - Ministers and Presidents of Magic with muggle Presidents
and Prime Ministers. Thus leaving the unwitting muggle public at large at the
mercy of those in power with no recourse when the most virulent and mendacious
members of the ruling classes of both societies have assumed control.
“In my view, this is a recipe for political disaster for the muggle world, to
say nothing of our own. In any case, please bear with me - the broadcast is
about to begin...”
“Hmmmph... I suppose you might have something there Albus,” muttered Pericles,
eyeing the Wiz-Vision in distaste.
“Indeed!” Dumbledore chuckled. “I did also bring all the relevant evidence with
me to turn over to the committee - the following broadcast is largely for the
British wizarding public, but it is a good overview of my case against the
Minister...”
Tuned to the British Wiz-Vision feed as it was, Henri Delacour’s screen was
currently displaying the WVN evening news. The image and sound broke up with a
burst of distortion and faded to black, before returning with the pre-recorded
video the Order had made for the pirated broadcast.
Taking a sip from his own wine-glass, Albus Dumbledore noted the reactions of
the ICW committee members with great interest. Olubunmi’s tears and stifled
sobs were expected - Albus had always appreciated her compassion and humanity.
But the horrified expression on Angelika’s face when she saw the footage of the
corpses in the Death Chamber and the prisoners - including the child - gave him
a grim sense of satisfaction. Pericles was harder to read, a twitching muscle
on his temple the only evidence of emotion.
All three of the committee members were rapt with attention when the Dumbledore
on the Wiz Vision screen presented the evidence from the files liberated during
both the rescue of Arthur Weasley, and the raid on the Ministry Death Camp.
The pre-recorded Dumbledore described the contents: lists of enemies,
supporters and recruits, details of operations, plans for the “detention
facilities,” lists of the detained and the killed, among many other details.
Dumbledore pointed to the file which confirmed that the entire story of Dick
Turpentine and wand-stealing muggleborn rebels was an utter fabrication
concocted by the Minister and the Unspeakable Office.
He explained the Inferi, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s role in their creation under
Ministry auspices, showing the recovered implements of torture and necromancy
on-screen, and replaying the footage which revealed the tridecagram on the
floor of the Death Chamber next to the stacks of corpses.
Dumbledore punctuated the information with the footage depicting Thorfinn
Rowle’s presence at the compound as evidence confirming that the Minister had
recruited those of Voldemort’s Death Eaters who had been interned in Azkaban
for their previous crimes.
Finally, the Dumbledore on the Wiz Vision was shown interviewing several of the
rescued prisoners, muggleborn wizards and muggles, including the MI5 analyst
and her daughter, confirming the collusion between Minister Umbridge and the
muggle Prime Minister.
When it was over, one could have heard a pin drop in Henri Delacour’s sitting
room, and Albus Dumbledore was nearly certain that he finally had the ICW
Committee in his corner. Dame Machschnell was a hard-nosed character and a
stickler for rules, but Dumbledore’s hope for her sense of honour and human
decency appeared to have been rewarded.
“Vell Albus, zis is quite shocking,” said the Head of the Committee. “Vhen ze
evidence you haff brought confirms your allegations, I can assure you zat our
committee shall begin an immediate investigation...”
“Angelika will have my complete support of course,” Olubunmi interjected, her
nostrils flaring angrily as she dabbed at her tears.
“If the rest of your evidence substantiates these... images... Albus, I suppose
I can offer my own recommendation in support of an investigation,” Pericles
added silkily.
Angelika Machschnell rolled her eyes at the Greek committee member; she was the
head of the committee after all, and all she needed was Olubunmi's second to
carry the motion to investigate.
“I cannot promise zat the vote of ze entire ICW vill go your way of course
Albus, but vot you haff presented is very damning and quite convincing!” said
Angelika firmly. “My committee can certainly Censure your Minister Umbridge,
and introduce a motion to ze Wizengamot to Sanction her administration, and to
issue an International Warrant for her arrest, should she dare to step on
foreign soil...”
                                     ~o0o~
Before he had completed the mirror-call with Harry, Dumbledore had cautioned
him that some of the footage filmed during the raid on the Ministry’s Death
Camp would be shown during the broadcast over the hacked Wiz-Vision feed,
though edited to keep their identities concealed.
Forewarned, the Coven had braced themselves for the ugly images that they knew
were coming.
It had been hard to relive the sickening scenes again, but they had managed it,
feeling an odd mix of relief and sadness that the rest of the wizard world
would finally see what the Ministry was really up to. And with the anticipation
of what the New Year would bring, sleep seemed a distant possibility that
night, but one by one, slumber gradually took them all.
The second to last person to fall asleep was Harry, still anxiously
contemplating the plan to retake Hogwarts, hoping that it wouldn’t turn into a
bloodbath - hoping that what they found there wouldn’t drive him to lose
control of himself. When Hermione felt her husband’s tension melt in her
embrace she finally relaxed enough to let oblivion take her.
                                     ~o0o~
“Too bloody early - it’s New Year’s! Leave me alone...” Ron grumbled as someone
tapped his cheek. The tapper ignored Ron’s complaints and gently patted his
cheek again.
“Come on Ron; wake up! You’ve been asleep for long enough... or are you just
going to sleep your whole life away then?”
The voice sounded familiar, but it was one which Ron hadn’t heard in quite some
time. It must be a dream... or a nightmare! Blearily Ron opened his eyes as his
senses jangled. His surroundings were unfamiliar and pink - pink bedding, pink
curtains, pink carpet, pink wallpaper - but the countenance which peered at him
was a face he knew all too well and Ron’s trepidation turned into alarm.
“Bloody Hell!” Ron gasped, feeling naked when he realised that he was all alone
and that he didn’t have his wand. “Percy! Where am I? What’s going on?”
“It’s alright Ron - you’re safe!” said Percy in a soothing tone. “Nobody’s
going to hurt you...”
“Like hell! I know what you did to Dad,” snarled Ron, beginning to panic. “What
happened to you Perce...?”
“Believe me Ron, I hated that I had to do that! But our father has been in
cahoots with Dumbledore for donkey’s years. He’s a traitor Ron...”
“Rubbish!” shouted Ron. “You’re completely mental...”
“Ron... Please, calm down! Hear me out!” Percy pleaded, and Ron quieted.
“I promise - I’m not going to hurt you,” continued Percy. “I know you’re
Potter’s best friend, but I’m also aware that you don’t really know who he
truly is... or who Dumbledore really is...”
“What are you on about Percy? I’m not...” Ron trailed off, his heart pounding.
It suddenly struck him that it might not be in his best interests to tell Percy
that he hadn’t been Harry’s best mate since the First Task of the Triwizard
Tournament. “You... you don’t seriously expect me to believe all that barmy
stuff about Harry and Dumbledore being violent criminals do you...?”
“Yes... yes I do Ron! You know what they’re capable of - what happened to the
Malfoys...”
“The Malfoys? You must be joking! They had it coming... and... and Ginny told
me what really happened to Draco Malfoy! I’m surprised you haven’t tried to
arrest her too!” said Ron angrily. “Since when did you turn into a Slytherin,
Perce?”
Despite everything that he knew about Percy, Ron could hardly believe what he
was hearing.
Percy had always been a bit of pompous git - a bossy know-it-all who thought he
was better than everyone else - and Ron had always known that his brother was
exceedingly ambitious. But Ron had never imagined that Percy would ever go so
far, and seeing his older brother peering at him with concern, it was still
hard for Ron to accept that he had actually come to believe all that Pureblood
rubbish.
“Ron... please!” Percy rolled his eyes, trying to control his temper. He needed
Ron. It wouldn't do to antagonise him, but it was high time that Ron grew up.
“It’s long past time to put aside House prejudices...” Percy continued, “for
the sake of the wizard world. If we want to put an end to all of this strife -
if you want to save your friends - we need to work together...”
“Whaddya mean, ‘work together’...?” Ron asked suspiciously.
“We need to stop the violence before it gets worse Ron - before it tears the
wizard world apart. A lot of people still look up to Harry Potter. And as long
as Potter follows Dumbledore down the path of madness and chaos, people will
continue to blindly follow behind him...”
“You can help bring the violence to an end Ron,” Percy continued earnestly. “As
his friend, you might be able to get through to Potter like no others can. If
you help us end this Ron, you’ll be a hero! Go on the Wiz-Vision - tell Potter
to turn himself in - and I promise, I’ll do everything I can to see that Potter
is treated fairly...”
“Never! You’re barking if you think...”
“How many more must die Ron? What will it take to convince you? Please... think
about it!”
Percy peered at Ron, considering other approaches. Following Dumbledore’s
pirated broadcast, the Minister and her Senior Undersecretary knew that they
would have to move fast to counter his spin on the revelation of the death and
destruction at the Ministry’s detention facility, before people had a chance to
give Dumbledore’s warped perspective and lies any credence.
It was imperative for the wizard world to see that Dumbledore and his protege
would fabricate any story to justify their attacks on the Ministry, and that
what the Ministry was doing was necessary for the preservation of wizarding
society as a whole. If they could see that even Potter’s best friends had
turned against him...
“Ron, haven’t you ever wondered why we were so poor? Why Dad never got ahead at
the Ministry? Didn’t you ever stop to think about why other wizard families
always looked down on us and mocked our name? ...”
Ron scowled at Percy.
***** Chapter 68: Meet the Parents *****
Harry drew in a breath of crisp fresh winter air as he and Hermione traipsed
through the snowy grounds of Jennifer’s estate. At nearly one hundred and
fifteen acres of hill, much of it wooded, there was plenty of estate for a nice
explore. The rest of the Coven were engaged in various activities after having
spent a good part of the morning training with Ginny to accustom her to
performing spells as a Coven.
Passing through a thick copse of evergreens, Harry and Hermione found a bit of
bluff nearly untouched by snow just under the canopy of the trees on the other
side. Even given the pearly grey skies, the view from the bluff was
spectacular. The sea was visible in the distance one direction, and the snow
covered ruins of Corfe Castle in the other. And much closer, the Potters could
see the Church steeple and a bit of the village.
Well bundled up against the cold, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and
smiled, then sat cross legged on a patch of ground covered in pine needles.
Hermione leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed contentedly as he
wrapped an arm around her. They sat like that for a good while, drinking in the
beauty of the wintry landscape.
Harry let the peace wash over him, soothing even the parts of his soul where
the shadows of recent events still lurked. He pressed his lips to the knitted
cap which covered Hermione’s bushy hair and kissed it. Hermione snuggled even
closer if possible and sighed happily again. Moments later, their lips met for
a proper kiss.
When the kiss was finished, Harry’s eyes caught the church steeple again. The
steeple stirred a deep yearning within, and for a moment he wasn’t sure why.
Then he recalled the little cemetery behind the church and it struck him.
He cleared his throat, feeling a bit like he had when he had asked McGonagall
to let Hermione go to Hogsmeade in third year, despite the fact that Hermione’s
parents hadn’t signed her form. Harry began tentatively, wondering if she would
think it was too risky.
“Hermione?”
“Yes Harry?”
“Er... I was wondering... I... I really want to go to Godric’s Hollow - to
visit my parents’ grave with you... maybe use the Resurrection Stone.”
Hermione peered into Harry’s green eyes and bit her lip.
“I don’t know Harry,” she said after a moment passed. “Of course I want to go
with you, but I’m not sure that it would be safe for us. I would be surprised
if the Minister wasn’t staking out your parents’ house in Godric’s Hollow just
in case you show up... And even if we both went disguised, there’s a good
chance that we’d be detained anyway, just to see if we’re muggleborn.”
Harry sighed. “Yeah! You’re probably right Hermione. I guess I was sort of
thinking the same thing... I just really want to go now. I’ve been feeling more
ready for it since visiting Jennifer’s parents’ graves with her. And... and
with, er... everything we’ve had to deal with recently, it’d be nice to
actually see for myself that people really do go on after death.”
“I’m sorry Harry.” Hermione smiled at him sympathetically. “Eventually we’ll
get to Godric’s Hollow. I’m sure of it! But if you want to, you could use the
Resurrection Stone anytime you like.”
“I thought about that actually. But - I’m not really sure why - it just seems
right somehow to use it in Godric’s Hollow.”
“Well, I suppose that does make sense on some level - it was your home after
all, where you were born and lived with your parents. And there’s a lot of
history in Godric’s Hollow, Harry, as well as your own...”
“Yeah!” Harry nodded. “It’s been ages since I’ve read it, but I remember from A
History of Magic: Godric Gryffindor, and the guy who created the Golden Snitch
lived there... and Dumbledore told us that his family used to live there too.”
“And then there’s Bathilda Bagshot, who actually wrote A History of Magic,”
said Hermione, grinning. For all that Harry complained about his memory and
intellect not being as good as her own, Hermione mused again that Harry was far
more intelligent than he gave himself credit for.
Hermione thought back to the end of First Year, when Harry had pieced together
all the bits that others had told him and worked out that he and Voldemort were
connected, and that eventually Harry would have to kill Voldemort or be killed
himself.
That had been a brilliant and logical piece of deduction, based on his own
recollections, and confirmed by Dumbledore’s revelation of the Prophecy. Of
course Dumbledore had also pointed out that Prophecies were “a dubious
business,” and most never fulfilled - most likely due to the increasing number
of variables - the ever branching probabilities and roads not traveled - as the
future unfolded.
And it had turned out that Harry was more or less right, despite not knowing at
the time that Voldemort’s obsession with him was due to a Prophecy. It only
made sense logically that Voldemort would come after Harry time and time again
if Voldemort had believed in the Prophecy, regardless of the truth of it.
When it came right down to it, Hermione reckoned that Harry’s deductive
reasoning skills had always been one of his biggest assets, besides his strong
ability to visualise complex patterns, and his diligent study habits.
Harry raised his eyebrows, regarding his wife’s amorous expression with
bemusement. Despite himself, Harry couldn’t help beaming back at Hermione’s
radiant features, her golden curls spilling out from under her knitted mauve
cap and tumbling over her shoulders.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asked.
“Oh... er...” Hermione was slightly taken aback, not prepared for Harry’s
question, not having quite realised that she was feeling a bit breathless and
tingling with arousal - which was no doubt apparent to Harry. “I was just...
er... thinking about how brilliant and smart you are,” she said, biting her lip
and blushing furiously.
Still grinning at Hermione, Harry turned a bit pink. He couldn’t help feeling a
swell of elation at Hermione’s unsolicited praises. Suddenly, without warning,
Harry leaned in again and took Hermione’s lips with his own, kissing her
steamily.
Hermione’s spark of desire burst into flame and she fell back upon the bed of
pine needles, pulling Harry atop her.
Harry’s lips were so busily engaged, his own libido unchained, that it took him
a moment to realise that Hermione was tugging off her jeans and knickers...
which she was doing with some difficulty as Harry’s legs between her parted
thighs were blocking her way. Glancing down, Harry caught an eyeful of
Hermione’s exposed pubes and bare hips, feeling himself grow harder.
“Er... you sure about this Hermione. Wouldn’t you like to go inside? It’s
starting to snow again.”
“This is perfect, Harry!” Hermione said curtly as she panted. “Now help me!”
Harry grinned again and grasped Hermione’s jeans and knickers which were rucked
up near the top of her thighs. Moments later, the bottom half of Hermione was
completely nude (excepting her thick woolen socks) and Harry was between her
spread legs, trailing kisses up the silky skin of her inner thighs until his
lips reached her flushed, dampening slit.
Hermione let out a little moan of pleasure when Harry’s tongue slipped between
the inner petals of her humid vulva, seeking out the little button hidden
within. She felt a soaring sensation as if she were on the back of Harry’s
broom. Moments later, squealing, Hermione’s back arched, her thighs clasping
Harry’s tousled head, trembling blissfully.
Harry’s tongue continued its mission and Hermione peaked several more times,
reaching new heights of ecstasy with each climax. Hermione quaked. Letting out
another squeal of delight, she lost herself to a churning storm of ardour as
sparks of magic flew.
Hermione was too giddy to care that the clouds had darkened and the wind had
come up, sending a flurry of snow into the hollow under the canopy of the
evergreens. Harry was now repeatedly driving his lance into her clasping warm
sheath, his own jeans halfway down his thighs.
In a brief moment of lucidity, Hermione managed to undo the front of her parka
and tug her jumper and t-shirt above her belly button. Harry grinned,
understanding Hermione’s plea. As Harry continued to rock her, his hands slid
across the satiny skin of Hermione’s abdomen, slipping under the hems of her t-
shirt and sweater.
Rolling around on the bed of pine needles, Hermione found herself atop Harry
riding his shaft. The open parka flapped around Hermione's sides as she rode
Harry ever more vigorously, his hands under her jumper and shirt kneading her
breasts, his fingers gently pinching and tugging her rock hard nipples.
The fervor eventually took Harry and Hermione both. Hermione gasped, bursting
ecstatically once more as Harry groaned, releasing his essence into Hermione's
depths. The magic exploded, crackling and arcing, lighting up the little alcove
under the trees.
Hermione slumped on Harry in a blissful haze, and the pair faded into oblivion.
When Hermione came to, she felt a blast of cold air and snowflakes melting on
her heated bare bottom and between her legs as a gust of wind drove the heavy
snowfall into the otherwise sheltered clearing under the evergreens. Entwined
with Harry, Hermione could still feel him inside her as she stirred.
Hermione shivered from the bitter cold, surprised that she wasn’t half-frozen
until she remembered that she was still tattooed with the runes which prevented
hypothermia and freezing to death. She slid off Harry’s front and clambered to
her feet, sighing to see the layer of snow on her jeans and knickers which lay
on the pine needles and underbrush close to the edge of the tree canopy.
Harry stirred and sat up, grinning at his half-naked wife, unable to help
feeling another swell of arousal at the sight of Hermione standing there
bottomless next to her snowy jeans and underwear. Hermione blushed at his
intense gaze, feeling a little thrill herself.
“Too bad Hermione,” Harry chortled. “You’ll just have to hang them up on a
branch for a bit and wait. I’ll keep you warm until they dry.”
Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes, half-tempted. There was something
strangely exhilarating about the otherwise embarrassing idea of being nude
outside in inclement weather with “no other choice” but to wait for clothes to
dry.
“Don’t be silly Harry!” she said as she picked up her knickers and shook off
the snow. “I’ll just perform a drying charm.”
Hermione giggled when Harry gave her an exaggerated look of disappointment.
“Alright... Fine!” said Hermione, rolling her eyes again, secretly giving in to
her own desires. “But only if you get naked too. I’m not going to freeze my
arse off by myself.”
“Done!” exclaimed Harry, grinning again as he yanked off his jeans and boxers.
And just to show how much he was willing to share in Hermione’s “predicament”
he chucked them out into the snow as well...
                                     ~o0o~
Minister Umbridge took a sip of tea, considering her options carefully. There
had to be a response to Dumbledore’s pirate broadcast of course. The most
suitable narrative was that of Dumbledore’s past, previously published in the
pages of the Daily Prophet, perhaps presented in a documentary format on the
Wiz-Vision. That should help muddy the waters in the minds of the public.
Satisfied with her plan, the Minister took another sip of tea and peered at her
list again. The next item on her agenda was what to do about the Dementors. The
Ministry had been most fortunate that there had been no scheduled Feeding for
the Dementors the night of Dumbledore’s attack upon the Ministry’s Welsh
Detention Centre, as Bellatrix had been working at one of the other facilities.
Had the Dementors been at that location, Dumbledore would have no doubt
destroyed them with his Secret Weapon.
At the moment, the Dementors had returned to the ruins of Azkaban, awaiting the
call for another Feeding - sucking out the souls of those that Bellatrix had
finished torturing while she prepared herself to kill the prisoners and turn
them into Inferi. And twice a week, the Minister had allowed the Dementors to
take their leave of Azkaban to roam Britain and Feed from the ambient emotions
of the general public.
All things considered, it might be best to disallow the regularly scheduled
Soul Feedings at the detention centres and give the Dementors carte blanche to
leave Azkaban and rove Britain at will, drawing their sustenance from the
emotions of the public as needed. At least then the Dementors wouldn’t all be
gathered in one location, presenting themselves as an easy target. They could
still be called to the facilities in small groups to Feed on Souls on an
impromptu basis whenever Bellatrix was ready with a new batch of broken
detainees.
Confident that she had resolved another problem, Minister Umbridge moved on to
the next item on her list. The Ministry needed a means of instantaneous
communication to coordinate Unspeakables and Aurors engaged in the field. Owls
and Memos sent through the Floo System were wholly inadequate for communicating
with those in the field conducting operations. It was long past time for the
wizarding world to take another step forward, technologically speaking.
Noting the irony, the Minister sighed as she scribbled a memo to send to the
Unspeakable Office ordering the procurement of muggle communications devices -
specifically, two-way radios and mobile phones - and the immediate formation of
a research project to develop equivalent magically based devices. This was a
top priority.
Finally, Minister Umbridge scowled as she looked over the reports of several
skirmishes between Ministry officials and wizards resisting the registration
process. The damage from Dumbledore’s propaganda was already taking effect;
more people were digging in and fighting back instead of simply running away
and hiding. Hopefully countering Dumbledore’s propaganda would ameliorate some
of that...
                                     ~o0o~
She wasn’t sure how long they would be in Brazil, but Madam Amelia Bones was
beginning to wish she had brought her anti-sunburn ointment as she followed the
head of the ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations and
another senior member of the committee, and an assortment of large wizards in
crisp, black muggle business suits and dark sunglasses.
They were all in turn following the Brazilian Minister of Magic and his
assistant through a crowded beachfront street towards a less populated stretch
of the sandy seashore which appeared to have been roped off for VIP’s.
Madam Bones felt a momentary measure of relief from the heat when they passed
under the canopy of a Cabana with an open bar. A few musical notes caught
Amelia’s ear as she dabbed at her sweaty forehead with her hanky. Amelia
glanced at the band playing a bossa nova on a platform by an outside patio at
the other end of the Cabana.
“There he is,” said the Brazilian Minister of Magic, gesturing at a stretch of
sand halfway between the Cabana and the waterline, “ Minister Tsuchinoko. Just
follow me...”
                                     ~o0o~
The Japanese Minister of Magic drank in the rays of the heavenly sunlight as he
sunned himself on the golden sands of a beautiful stretch of beach not far from
Rio de Janeiro, nursing a cocktail with a tiny umbrella sticking out of the
glass, his eyes closed. Several sultry young witches - who might as well have
been naked for all that their barely-there-bikinis covered the most intimate
parts of their plentiful assets - cooed and giggled as they nuzzled, kissed,
and caressed him, their fingers and lips trailing along the lines of his
elaborate colourful tattoos.
He was basking in the glow of glorious victory. The Japanese International
Quidditch team had resoundingly defeated the Brazilian team in their own home
stadium the night before, and now he was enjoying the fruits of their Win. His
Brazilian hosts had been very gracious indeed, putting him up in their ritziest
resort for VIP’s, and making their sexiest Companion-Witches available to him -
completely free of charge.
A shadow loomed over the Japanese Minister, blocking the sun, and the tittering
of the witches went silent as their soft touch fell away from his skin. The
Minister opened his eyes to see what had interrupted his pleasure. He frowned
in puzzlement when he spied the Brazilian Minister of Magic peering down at him
with a thin smile on his lips.
“Ramón... is this important? Is there a problem?”
“That remains to be seen, Asahara,” the Brazilian Minister replied. “I am
merely here to facilitate a meeting. I hope you can forgive me...”
The Japanese Minister clambered to his feet, groaning inwardly, a knot of
trepidation forming in his gut when he saw the delegation from the ICW striding
across the sand towards him. His two bodyguards scowled, but he kept his own
features neutral, unwilling to show weakness.
“I must apologise, my friend,” the Brazilian Minister continued, raising his
eyebrows. “But the duties of my station come first - I cannot flout
International Law. I suggest that you cooperate fully.”
“But of course...” Tsuchinoko Asahara muttered. He bowed stiffly towards the
stern German Witch approaching with another member of her committee, a number
of large grim-looking, impeccably groomed wizards wearing dark sunglasses and
black muggle suits, and a dour square-jawed witch with a monocle.
“Dame Machschnell, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Minister Tsuchinoko!” Angelika Machschnell returned, politely bowing to the
Japanese Minister. “Madam Olubunmi Ogoba the Nigerian delegate to ze ICW - I
believe you are both already acquainted. And zis is Madam Bones - formerly Head
of ze British Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“Ve are here on a fact-finding mission, and I am hoping that you can tell me
vot these vere doing at ze bottom of the Black Lake... They vere discovered
after an attempt on Harry Potter’s life during the Tri-Vizard tournament, and
recently passed along to our committee... ”
The Head of the ICW Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations
narrowed her eyes shrewdly as one of the black-suited International Aurors
accompanying her opened a briefcase. Sure enough, despite Minister Tsuchinoko’s
determination to maintain his composure, a slight twitch in the corner of his
right eye gave away his recognition of the items, two sais and a throwing star
etched with an intricate design.
Another International Auror opened a second briefcase, with somewhat morbid
contents: a well preserved severed hand which had formerly been attached to a
kappa.
Despite his increasing angst, Minister Tsuchinoko took some satisfaction in the
knowledge that there was nothing which tied him directly to the kappa
assassination team which he had recommended to Minister Umbridge.
                                     ~o0o~
Dora yawned as the filtered grey light of a wintry dawn heralded the arrival of
another January morning. The snow was coming down heavily again, piling up on
the terrace just on the other side of the French doors. She smiled to herself,
sighing in contentment, feeling cozy as she snuggled next to Fleur. But after a
while, she reckoned it was time to get up.
As Dora shifted, she felt a soft warm hand give one of her breasts a little
squeeze, and Fleur’s silvery lashes fluttered open. Fleur leaned over and gave
Dora a wet kiss.
“Bonjour Dora,” whispered Fleur, an eager gleam in her eye. “I also am awake -
per’aps you would like some company in ze shower?”
“Er... yeah,” Dora grinned, “that sounds smashing Fleur. Just gimme a minute
first.”
A few minutes later, as the steam rose, Dora and Fleur soaped and fondled each
other under the hot spray of water. Gasps and moans of delight could be heard
over the thrum of the falling water as fingers slipped into wet crevices and
hands kneaded ample curves. The pair of young witches both cried out
ecstatically, bringing one another to completion.
As they toweled each other off after the shower, there was a knock on the
bathroom door.
“Is Dora in there?” asked a muffled voice which sounded very much like
Hermione’s.
“It’s alright, you can come in,” said Dora without thinking.
“Would you care to join us?” Fleur tittered when she saw Hermione’s bushy head
peeking around the door.
“Oh... er... What?” Hermione sputtered, eyes boggling, reddening with
embarrassment as she gaped at the two nude, dripping witches with towels in
their hands.
“Sorry Hermione,” said Dora, quickly wrapping her towel around herself. “I just
lost my mind for a minute...”
“And I was just teasing,” purred Fleur, who looked like she hadn’t been teasing
at all.
“It... it’s quite alright,” Hermione said faintly, trying to ignore the flutter
in her middle. “I just came because Sirius is on the mirror for Dora...”
“Oh, alright then,” said Dora, looking slightly puzzled. “Ta Hermione... Tell
Sirius I’ll be there in half a tick.”
“Got it,” Hermione replied. “I’ll... er... just be going then.”
Hermione quickly shut the bathroom door and made her way back to the parlour,
her face still aflame. Harry looked up with a bemused expression when he spied
Hermione’s crimson features.
“What’s up Hermione?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Hermione muttered before leaning in and whispering in
Harry’s ear. “I’d really like to play with Harriet tonight.”
Harry grinned. “No problem Hermione. So, is Dora on her way?”
“She’ll be here in just a moment...”
                                     ~o0o~
“Blimey!” Dora chortled after Hermione left the steamy bathroom. “‘Would you
care to join us?’ ... Really Fleur?”
“And if ‘Ermione had accepted my offer, you would be so disappointed?” Fleur
raised her eyebrows and peered at Dora knowingly. Dora flushed and squirmed a
bit, her giggles abating.
“Well, she’s married for one thing... bit young... more or less family,” Dora
mumbled, not quite meeting Fleur’s eye. “And you and me...”
“...would ‘ave lots of fun, non?” Fleur tittered. “Per’aps if ‘Arriet likes,
she may join in too?”
Dora tried desperately to put all such thoughts out of her head as she quickly
threw on a pair of jeans and an artfully torn Blondie t-shirt. But when she
entered the parlour, there was Hermione, sitting on a sofa next to Harry.
Harry glanced back and forth between Hermione and Dora, who had inexplicably
both blushed and quickly avoided each others’ eyes when they spotted each
other.
“The mirror’s on the coffee table Dora,” said Harry, standing up and taking
Hermione by the arm. “We’ll just leave you to it then.”
Hermione and Dora both gave Harry a grateful look, and both blushed again when
they caught each other’s eyes once more. Dora waited until they had both
departed the room and took a deep breath to clear her head before picking up
the mirror...
                                     ~o0o~
“Okay Hermione... Spill! What was that all about?”
“I... er... I walked in on Fleur and Dora together - by accident - they’d just
got out of the shower...” Hermione trailed off, leaving it there and hoping
that Harry wouldn’t press for more.
Harry smirked a bit, knowing that there must be a bit more to the story.
Hermione wouldn’t even look him in the eye; her face was still as red as a
fire-engine, and it seemed significant that she wanted him to be Harriet
tonight...
                                     ~o0o~
Dora lifted the mirror from the shiny spotless coffee table and Sirius’s
grinning face came into view.
“Mornin’ Sirius! What’s up?”
“Sorry about this Dora!” The grin was replaced with an apologetic smile. “I’m
actually just acting as secretary. There’s someone else here who’d really like
a chat with you...”
Dora flushed and groaned inwardly when her parents both appeared in the mirror.
She had been hoping to put this off until she had worked out a way to tell her
parents that Harry had promised to pay her way until she got her cartoons or
music off the ground once this was all over.
“Nymphadora , you look positively radiant,” her mother gushed effusively,
taking Dora by surprise. Her father’s face was right next to mum’s, but there
was something a bit goofy about his grin when he said, “Hi Sweetie.”
“Oh... er... Hi Mum, Dad!” said Dora, puzzlement crossing her features. “So...
What’s goin’ on?”
“Darling, it would be simply delightful if you could visit us tonight,” Dora’s
mother beamed. “You can bring your girlfriend. It would be lovely to meet her
finally.”
“...Oh... and maybe the Potters would like to join us too,” Dora’s mother added
nonchalantly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.
Okay, now Dora knew something was going on! Calling Dora by the hated moniker
“Nymphadora” was typical Mum, but Mum almost never ‘gushed effusively’ or
‘beamed’ at anyone unless something was up, and it was as clear as a bell that
Mum and Dad were both eager to meet the Potters. Dora bit her lip and her eyes
narrowed slightly in suspicion.
“Er... I’ll ‘ave to check with Harry and Hermione. But I s’pose if they’re
game...”
“Oh, wonderful dear!” said her mother enthusiastically. “We shall be dining
precisely at seven - just the six of us. So you don’t have to dress too
formally...”
Which really meant, “Please dress up and don’t wear your usual rags,” to Dora’s
ears; she turned pink when she remembered what she was wearing.
“...Anyway dear, I can’t wait to see you and Fleur and your friends this
evening,” her mother continued. “Bye for now! Please don’t be late.”
“Bye Love,” said Dora’s father, who looked relieved that he hadn’t had to say
anything. “See you tonight.”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry and Hermione both let out sighs of relief when they managed to land on
their feet upon their arrival on Black Manor’s front lawn via Portkey with
Fleur and Dora. They were all dressed up spiffily (Hermione had helped Harry
transfigure some of his clothes with the assistance of Parvati’s and Daphne’s
fashion sense), and Harry for some reason felt like he had when he’d almost met
Hermione’s father in Diagon Alley.
Harry couldn’t quite get over the impression that he would be under scrutiny,
sized up for approval by the parents. But for the life of him, Harry couldn’t
work out why. He thought Hermione looked a bit perplexed as well.
Feeling a knot of dread in the pit of her stomach, Dora peered awkwardly at
Fleur and the Potters’ anxious faces as they all waded through the snow towards
the front door of Narcissa Black’s manor from the portkey arrival site.
“I’m not really sure what’s goin’ on. Sorry guys...” Dora started to say.
“It’s alright Dora,” Harry interjected, making a feeble attempt at putting on a
brave face. “I’m really looking forward to meeting your parents,” he fibbed.
Perhaps under other circumstances it might have been true, but Dora’s growing
anxiety rang alarm bells in Harry’s brain.
“This will be lovely, really!” said Hermione, doing her best to look like she
meant it. Like Harry, Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more
to this visit than a casual dinner with a friend and her parents. The whole
situation had a distinct “meet-the-parents” vibe.
“Oui, mon amour. All shall be well,” Fleur said to Dora, wondering who she was
trying to convince more - herself, or Dora. For Fleur, there was no question
about it, this was her moment to either impress her girlfriend's parents or
fall flat on her face.
They were greeted at the door warmly by Narcissa Black and invited in. Narcissa
led them to the parlour in which Andromeda and Ted Tonks awaited the arrival of
their daughter. Out of the corner of her eye, Dora spotted Clara and her sister
Gemma in one of the other parlours. Clara seemed to be consoling her sister,
who looked like she’d been crying.
Thoughts of the Dawson sisters quickly evaporated as Dora approached the
entryway and spied her beaming parents on the other side in a small cozy
looking parlour with a roaring fire in the hearth. She swallowed nervously as
she entered the room.
“Hi Mum, Dad... This is Fleur...” Dora began a round of introductions.
“How lovely to finally meet you, Fleur!” said Mrs Tonks, pulling her into a big
hug.
“You as well, Madame Tonks,” Fleur gasped, trying to catch a breath in the
tight embrace of Dora's mother.
Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before shaking Mr Tonks’ hand, his
heart thumping in his ears. Harry felt somewhat relieved that Mr Tonks seemed
happy to meet him. But this time it was the frankly appraising looks he was
getting from Mrs Tonks which unnerved Harry the most.
There was definitely something weird going on.
Hermione shared a bewildered look with Harry, having picked up on the puzzling
sense of hopefulness from Dora’s mother when Mrs Tonks had swept her into a hug
as well.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” said Mrs Tonks cheerily. “Dinner should
be served momentarily, but in the meantime, perhaps some wine?”
“Er...Oui, zat sounds vairy nice,” said Fleur, who looked even more anxious
than the Potters. Fleur couldn’t be happier to take a few gulps of the French
Chardonnay, hoping it would settle her nerves.
Everyone settled in around the little dining table near the window and began
chatting amiably about the most innocuous of things while awaiting the arrival
of dinner as some light classical music played in the background.
When it arrived, Madam Black’s house-elf served up a fantastic meal, easily
worthy of Dobby or the elves at Hogwarts. On his second glass of wine, Harry
began to relax, his thoughts drifting as the voices around him faded.
He found himself ruminating on the plight of house-elves again. Wizards of
means just took them for granted, when house-elves deserved so much more
considering how much they provided for those they served. They at the very
least deserved to be able to choose who to work for, and to not be forced
magically to obey. It was a place to start anyway.
It was still hard for Harry to reconcile the utter complacency most house-elves
felt about their enslavement. Harry had looked up Stockholm Syndrome after
Hermione had mentioned it not so long ago, and he reckoned that she was right.
He thought about how unhappy and frightened Winky had seemed at the World Cup,
belying her protestations of delight at serving her master. Harry supposed
there really wasn’t anything wrong with her working for Crouch - she really
seemed to love him. But she deserved to be treated fairly and kindly, like any
sentient being.
It wasn’t right that not only was she forced to obey orders which terrified
her, she wasn’t even allowed to acknowledge the validity of her own feelings
about it. Harry was more determined than ever that one day he and Hermione
would somehow work out how to get house-elves more rights without upsetting
them...
“...Harry?”
“Hunh?” Harry suddenly snapped out of it when he realised that Mr Tonks was
addressing him with an odd gleam in his eyes. Harry glanced at the empty second
glass of wine in his hand and decided that he’d had enough.
“Er... Sorry Mr Tonks! What were you saying?”
“Too many distractions, eh?” Mr Tonks said to Harry with a roguish wink.
Dora stopped half-listening to her mother’s gossip, her cheeks turning pink
when she heard her father’s off-hand comment. Her chest tightened. Oh no! Here
it comes, she thought.
Harry was simply confused. Distractions? Somehow Harry didn’t think Mr Tonks
meant absentmindedly pondering future plans for liberating house-elves. And
what was with the winking? There was only one thing which made sense. But
surely Mr Tonks wasn’t implying...
“So my Dora tells me you actually used your metamorphmagus skills to navigate
the Second Task, not Gillyweed,” Mr Tonks continued, looking really impressed.
“That takes some real focus, that does. Your Intent must be off the charts!”
“Er... Maybe, I suppose!” Harry replied tentatively with a nervous grin,
wondering where this was all leading. “I mean... Sure, it took a bit of focus,
but I wouldn’t say it was ‘off-the-charts.’”
“...And so humble.” Mrs Tonks beamed at Hermione. “My dear, your husband is
simply delightful!”
Dora’s eyes widened, her breath quickening as panic began scratching wildly at
the door to her brain like a terrified puppy frightened of an approaching
storm.
Hermione was at a loss. She suddenly felt like she was at a cocktail party in
an old black and white film.
“Er... Yes! Harry’s the best!” Hermione squeaked with a slightly strained
smile, cringing at the sound of her voice and the lameness of her response.
“And an up and coming quidditch champion perhaps, from what I hear,” chimed in
Mr Tonks.
“...And quite a potioneer from what Severus tells us,” added Mrs Tonks. She
turned and gave Hermione a look that was both meaningful, and almost
uncomfortably warm. “Indeed he tells us you are both some of the most
exceptional students he has ever had the pleasure of working with...”
Hermione and Harry both dropped their forks at the same time and gaped, unable
to imagine Snape ever using the terms “exceptional students” and “pleasure” in
the same sentence. There was no doubt about it now. Mrs Tonks was clearly
buttering them up for something.
Dora hid her blazing face in her hands, knowing that the dam was about to
burst.
Fleur watched with great interest, the corners of her mouth twitching with
mirth, free to enjoy the show now that her own interrogation was over.
Apparently oblivious to all of the expressions and gesticulations of her
guests, Mrs Tonks cheerfully barreled on.
“...I can imagine that you’ll both make wonderful parents one day!” Mrs Tonks
sighed wistfully. “With your talents, I have no doubt that you’ll both have
your pick of careers, providing stability and comfort for your children...”
Dora audibly groaned through the hands still covering her face.
The Potters were now simply stunned into silence. Children was the last thing
on their minds; both of them were thrilled at the efficacy of the wizard
world’s Contraception Charms and Potions.
“I miss children,” said Mrs Tonks. “Metamorphmagus children can certainly be a
handful, but more fun than you can possibly imagine. You might both find that
out some day. I hear that the talent actually runs through some families from
one generation to the next.
“Anyway, You should have seen our little Nymphadora, such a cherubic little
angel and wicked devil all rolled into one. We have some pictures somewhere, in
one of our suitcases...”
“Muuuuum!” groaned Dora.
“...I had hoped that one day another little one would join our family.” Mrs
Tonks let out another wistful sigh. “Of course that’s just me being selfish
though.” She gave her daughter an affectionate motherly look. “I only want my
Nymphadora to be happy...”
Dora felt like slamming her head into the table and knocking herself out so she
wouldn’t have to listen any more.
“...And I know how happy Fleur makes her...” Mrs Tonks shot Fleur a winning
smile.
Dora winced ahead of the bombshell she knew her mother was about to drop.
“...And it’s obvious how happy you two make her as well...”
There it was!
“Mum!” Dora said sharply, dropping her hands from her face to glare at her
mother.
The Potters could only continue to listen in horrified fascination, their eyes
popping. Fleur covered her mouth, struggling to hold back the laughter.
“...And please don’t worry yourselves that Ted and I won’t understand your
relationship with our daughter and Fleur. We are both quite accepting of
alternative lifestyles...”
“MUM!” Dora shouted. “That’s enough...”
“...and I can’t tell you both just how happy I am to have a new hope that I may
yet have a grandchild,” Mrs Tonks concluded, beaming more cheerfully than ever.
“Wait... You mean... me... I... ” Harry sputtered, finally finding his voice as
his head spun, unable to fully comprehend that this was really happening. But
Harry’s attempt to clarify whether he was dreaming or not was interrupted.
“OH MY GOD!” Dora fumed. “Shut UP! Harry and Hermione are JUST FRIENDS! I can’t
believe you Mum! Where’s this all coming from? Dad, please tell me you’re not
in on this...”
“Why, if it weren’t for your father dear, it might have escaped me completely.”
Mrs Tonks gave her daughter a sympathetic smile. “Those photos of the Potters
and Fleur from the end of the second task - and there you are in some of the
photos, right behind them grinning like a little monkey... your closeness with
the Potters... your trip to London all together with Fleur... It all makes
sense now, and I couldn’t be happier for you!”
“Please stop, Mum!” Dora moaned, glancing at Harry apologetically, then sharing
a desperate look with Hermione, and Fleur who was still valiantly fighting a
fit of giggles. Mrs Tonks' comments were hitting uncomfortably close to home
after the awkwardness between the three young witches that morning; Hermione’s
features appeared to be in a race to catch up to Dora’s in redness.
Harry caught the looks and the rosy cheeks. Wondering what the hell had
actually happened during the Shower Incident that morning, Harry slumped in his
seat and groaned, resigned to whatever fate the Universe had in store for him.
“Now dears, there’s really no need for all of you to make such a fuss or hide
it from us,” Mrs Tonks said kindly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “The
love you all share is as plain as day now that I see you all together...”
“Oh God! You’re not going to give up are you?” Dora rolled her eyes and threw
her arms up in exasperation. “Okay... fine! Believe whatever you want to
believe! I’ve ‘ad enough of this...” Dora pushed back her chair and stood up.
“I think I’m ready t’go home now. ‘Ow about you guys?”
“Er... yeah!” Harry couldn’t scramble to his feet fast enough. “Er... thanks
for dinner!” he said to Dora’s parents.
“It was lovely to meet you both!” Hermione squeaked, wincing again at the sound
of her own voice.
“Madame, Monsieur Tonks!” Fleur stood up gracefully and curtsied, a beatific
smile on her face. “Thank you so much for your ‘ospitality.”
“Yeah! Thanks for dinner Mum, Dad!” said Dora in a weary, defeated tone of
voice. “Love you both!”
Ted and Andromeda Tonks both sighed happily as their daughter departed from the
parlour with her companions. Andromeda took out a hanky and dabbed the tears of
joy glistening on her cheeks.
“Oh Ted! I think it might really happen. We might really get a grandchild one
day!”
“Eh? What’d I tell you then? You believe me now, don’tcha?” Ted waggled his
eyebrows at his wife and grinned. “Now that you’ve seen ‘em... ”
“You were right Ted,” Andromeda sniffled. “It’s so obvious when you see them
all together. I just... I still can’t get over how much Nymphadora seems so at
home with all of them - even Harry Potter.
“I never thought I’d ever see our daughter look at a young man like she looks
at her girlfriends. It’s his eyes - you saw them didn’t you Ted? Harry Potter’s
eyes? ... They’re just too pretty for words...”
Ted raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit at his wife.
                                     ~o0o~
“Bloody Hell! I can’t believe it!” Harry muttered as the four of them trudged
back through the snow to the portkey departure point, his face blazing like a
furnace. “I can’t bloody believe it!” he repeated.
Harry peered beseechingly at Dora. “Your mum actually wants me to get you
pregnant? ... I’m only fifteen!”
Dora hid her face in her hands, moaning, “I’m so sorry Harry! I swear... I ‘ad
no idea that was gonna happen!”
Fleur was laughing uncontrollably now that she was outside and no longer had to
restrain herself; she was laughing so hard that she had to stop and clutch at a
stitch in her side.
Hermione felt all of a jumble - finding herself torn between laughter,
embarrassment, and anxiety. She gave Harry a sympathetic smile and curled an
arm around his waist...
                                     ~o0o~
Amelia Bones adjusted her monocle while Dumbledore poured them both a cup of
tea in his office. She had spent two days in Brazil and was eager to get things
under way. After taking a few sips of tea, Amelia began.
“It was quite apparent that the Japanese Minister of Magic knew much more than
he let on. Unfortunately, the ICW does not have enough to charge him with any
crimes, nor to compel him to reveal any more information about Dolores’s
connection to the Kappa Kill Team.”
“That is a shame indeed,” Dumbledore sighed and nodded. “But not entirely
unexpected.”
“Quite!” Madam Bones replied drily. “However, he did not deny the connection
outright, but rather, indicated that Dolores may have approached wizards
associated with the Yakuza for referral to the assassins... which is nonsense
of course!”
“Of course!” agreed Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. Amelia was thoroughly in
her element when engaged in uncovering a mystery.
“I have no doubt that Minister Tsuchinoko himself provided Dolores with the
contacts necessary for hiring the Kill Team,” Amelia continued. “Regardless, he
at least gave us enough to track down the assassins sent to kill Mr Potter.
Once the International Auror Office has them in hand, the assassins should be
able to provide direct evidence that Dolores - or someone closely associated
with her - hired them.
“The evidence collected by the Potters and their friends is being sifted
through by the Committee. The most damning of all, will of course be the direct
testimony being provided by those imprisoned at the compound... I will be
taking a trip to Japan for the next few days to follow up the leads on the
Kappa, but Kingsley and I will be heading to Brussels again next week, this
time with Ms Mason to provide evidence of collusion with the muggle Prime
Minister. If all goes to plan, the Committee will be able to bring a Motion to
the floor of the ICW to issue an International Arrest Warrant for Dolores
within the next four to six weeks.”
Satisfaction crossed Dumbledore’s countenance as he listened to Amelia’s
report.
“Excellent!” he said with another nod. “In the meantime, we can continue to
focus our own efforts on countering the Minister’s forces here at home...”
***** Chapter 75: Unanimous Resolution *****
Locked in a passionate embrace, Harry and Hermione rolled around on the damp
bed of pine needles, getting wetter and wetter as more icy drips and rivulets
of rain seeped through the canopy of the trees above. Hermione giggled when she
felt Harry’s fingers slip inside her coat and under her t-shirt, trailing
across the bare skin of her tummy.
“That tickles Harry. Does this mean you’re ready then?”
Harry reluctantly dragged his lips away from Hermione’s neck and grinned at
her.
“Er... Yeah! I guess I am.”
The Potters clambered to their feet and brushed the wet pine needles from their
clothes. Harry made to open an umbrella as they stepped out into the torrent,
but Hermione snatched it from his hand.
“Oi... What the...?” said Harry, bemused.
Hermione giggled again as she darted out of Harry’s reach. “If you want it,
you’ll have to catch me, Harry.”
Shaking his head and laughing, Harry pelted after Hermione as she ran. Hermione
led him on a merry chase through the downpour, and by the time they reached the
red brick barn, panting and out of breath, they were both drenched.
“Now we have to get out of our wet things,” said Harry, shivering and grinning
as Hermione closed the door behind them.
“That was the plan, yes,” Hermione answered matter-of-factly, shaking excess
water from her saturated mane of hair.
“Wasn’t exactly necessary though, was it?” Harry chuckled, his eyebrows raised
as he tugged off his t-shirt. “I’m bloody freezing, now.”
Already down to her wet bra and knickers, Hermione rolled her eyes and picked
up her wand.
“Necessary, no! Romantic, yes!” she said as she cast a Warming Charm over the
barn. “Now hurry up and get out of those clothes.”
Harry chortled again and tugged off his sopping jeans, then popped open a
bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Having already replaced several bricks
in the wall with the slab of stone from the Room of Requirement before the
walk, the Potters wrapped a blanket around themselves and huddled together,
sipping the red wine as they listened to the rain beating steadily upon the
roof.
Soon enough the chill was gone, and Harry picked up where he had left off under
the evergreens, sweeping Hermione’s wet locks out of the way as he nuzzled her
neck and his hand slid across her abdomen.
The ardour intensified as the kisses became steamier and caresses traveled; wet
undergarments were heatedly yanked off and flung to the side. Harry’s hand
reached between Hermione’s parting thighs, his lips encircling the tender pink
peaks of her rolling hills.
Hermione bit her lip, already quivering and squeaking blissfully, Harry’s
fingers inside her, his thumb twirling her little button. Dousing Harry’s hand
with dewiness, Hermione giddily reached for his turgid staff, beckoning him to
enter her and seek his own release.
But Harry seemed to have other ideas.
“Harry?” she squealed, slightly startled and confused when his appendage snaked
up her torso, between her breasts.
Harry grinned in response. When she felt the crown of his hardness pressing
between the humid petals of her heated entrance, as the head of his serpent
hovered above her lips, waving tentatively, Hermione suddenly caught on and
giggled.
“Er... Well? Do you want to give it a go then?” asked Harry, raising his
eyebrows questioningly. “It’s up to you... I can still be Hugh Grant if you’d
rather?”
Hermione giggled again, smacking Harry’s shoulder. “I’d rather have my Harry or
Harriet any day of the week. But if you’re really sure you don’t mind, Shokushu
Harry does sound like fun... I just thought you might feel really weird about
it!”
“I don’t mind at all!” Harry said softly, giving Hermione a gentle look with
those pretty green eyes that she had fallen in love with. “I never feel weird
when I’m with you...”
Hermione felt the tug on her heartstrings and pulled Harry closer for another
deep, burning kiss.
Harry’s lance plunged into her sheath. Hermione let out a moan as he began to
rock her, and opened her lips wider to take his second appendage in her mouth;
she tasted his essence, sucking almost hungrily as it slid over her tongue.
The feeling was almost indescribable; there was something heavenly about having
Harry filling her in both places simultaneously. The tidal surges of ecstasy
swept Hermione away more than once, and she was gleefully amazed that Harry was
still managing to hold on.
Harry was more than surprised himself; the soaring sensations from his two
members inside Hermione rushing through him from head to toes were nearly
overwhelming. He could feel himself drawing nearer and nearer to the edge of
the abyss, but he tried to hold off as long as he could, delighting in both her
pleasure and his own.
But as Hermione peaked again for the umpteenth time, the passionate fervor fed
back in on itself, and Harry finally lost himself. Awash in a heavenly fog of
bliss, he erupted, releasing himself, flooding Hermione’s depths as she
thirstily drank from his fountain.
For an eternal moment the pair were as one, undulating, caught in a perfect
storm of uncontrollable multiple cascading climaxes.
The Magic arced like bolts of lightning; the Barn lit up, bathed in the
pulsating silvery luminescence emanating from the writhing couple. Filaments -
all colours of the rainbow - branched from the major crackling arcs bursting
from them, and began crawling across the walls, ceiling, and floor of the barn.
The stone from the Room of Requirement glowed intensely. There was one last
blinding flash of light... the Barn quaked vigorously... and it was over. The
Potters fell into Oblivion...
                                     ~o0o~
When Harriet came to, still entwined in Hermione’s embrace - perhaps an hour
later - she gave her wife a puzzled look, who was also just starting to stir.
Hermione blinked and shook her own head clear, seeing Harriet’s bewildered
expression.
“Harriet, are you alright?” she asked, looking concerned.
“Er... Blimey!” Harriet squeaked anxiously. “I’m not sure, Hermione! I mean...
I feel great - that was amazing - but I don’t remember changing into my girl
form. I’ve never morphed without doing it on purpose before. D’you think...?
That doesn’t mean something’s wrong, does it?”
Hermione bit her lip and frowned pensively. While having a good think, Hermione
found her wand and conjured up a towel to wipe her face and hair before
answering Harriet’s question.
“Hmm... Well, it’s not really the first time, is it?” she finally said. “You
regrew your hair once without even knowing how. .... Obviously transforming
into a girl is much more complicated, but you’re used to it by now, as you do
it all the time. So if I had to guess, I’d say that you unconsciously forced
the change after you’d spent yourself. You’ve just been a rather... er, extreme
expression of maleness... and I think you just really needed to be a girl again
after all of that!”
Harriet peered at Hermione - who was still toweling herself off - in sudden
understanding. She clapped her hand to her mouth, a guilty expression on her
face.
“Yeah,” Harriet muttered, “I see what you mean.”
Hermione smiled sympathetically, trying hard not to giggle.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Harriet. It was lots of fun - brilliant even!
I’d really enjoy doing that again with you some time... but only if it doesn’t
make you feel uncomfortable.”
Harriet gave Hermione an abashed looking grin.
“Er... Yeah! Okay! I had loads of fun too... I wouldn’t mind doing it again
once in a while. Maybe not too often though - I’m bloody knackered after
that...” Harriet trailed off as Hermione leaned in to kiss her.
“Mmm...” said Hermione, an impish expression on her face as she stroked her
hand along Harriet’s inner thigh, “That would be disappointing if you were too
tired for a bit more now. I was sort of hoping I could spend some time with you
as Harriet too.”
“Well, I suppose... If you insist,” said Harriet teasingly, “As long as I don’t
have to work so hard this time.”
“Not at all. Just leave it to me,” Hermione giggled, waving her wand at her
coat by the barn door.
Harriet wasn’t as surprised as she might have been when she saw the toy fly out
of a pocket and across the room, knowing that Hermione usually prepared for
every possible situation.
“I made some magical adjustments,” said Hermione, “I should be able to really
feel what it’s like to be a boy this time. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Go for it,” Harriet eagerly replied. “Of course I don’t mind.”
A fresh tingle of arousal coursed through Harriet as Hermione readied the
strap-on for action and kneeled between her thighs.
The tingle became a cresting swell of elation and Harriet’s toes curled when
she felt Hermione prepare her humid pink crescent with kisses, licks and
nibbles - Hermione’s tongue alternating between flicking Harriet’s fleshy pearl
and burrowing inside her wetness. Harriet was gasping and squeaking, already in
the throes of her second climax when Hermione finally presented the tip of the
strap-on’s shaft to her spasming entrance.
Harriet writhed under Hermione as the bushy haired witch repeatedly drove the
synthetic phallus into her core and moulded her bouncing little globes, moaning
into Hermione’s mouth as their lips met, dancing wetly.
The delicious friction of feverous passion was too much and Harriet let out a
keening cry of euphoria as she peaked, merging with Hermione for the second
time, vaguely cognizant of the pulsing jets inside her, releasing a torrent of
nectar into her channel.
The barn trembled again, crackling arcs of Magic leaping from wall to wall once
more.
It was another while before the pair of glowing witches roused again. Harriet
grinned, giving her wife a tender smooch.
“That was brilliant, Hermione!” said Harriet. “I always wondered what that felt
like...”
“So did I,” Hermione retorted, smirking. “I think I might enjoy being the boy a
bit more often.”
“As long as you don’t get me pregnant... OW!” Harriet chortled when Hermione
gave her a swat.
“You know that can’t happen. It wasn’t real, er... semen,” said Hermione,
giving Harriet a mock glare. “And I know you never bothered with the internal
reproductive bits. Though if I ever do work out how to make it real when we’re
older, you’d best be prepared to learn how to transform those parts too if you
want more than one kid...”
“Er...” Harriet gulped, hoping Hermione was joking. “Speaking of
transformations... The barn...” Harriet deflected. “We should give it a test
run and have our picnic...”
Hermione’s eyes widened as she and Harriet glanced around the chamber - for
that was what the interior of the barn looked like now, a grand castle
chamber...
                                     ~o0o~
“Wow! You did it... it actually worked!” gasped Parvati as she and the rest of
the Coven peered at the inside of the barn later that afternoon.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Ginny giggled, giving the luminescent Potters a
smirk which made them both blush.
“Not really,” said Luna, looking slightly wistful, as if she had hoped the
services of the entire Coven would be called for.
“It’s amazing!” exclaimed Jennifer. “It looks like just like a room at Hogwarts
- like a castle made out of stone I mean... instead of bricks...”
“Let’s test it out,” said Daphne eagerly.
“Well, it definitely works. Hermione turned it into a London art gallery and we
looked at the pictures while we had lunch. But I’m so worn out, I can’t even
think about training,” groaned Harriet. “And I’m the one who wanted it the
most.”
“Well, never mind that, Harriet,” chimed in Hermione. “We’re just supposed to
be relaxing on weekends anyway - Pomfrey’s orders.”
“Yeah,” said Jennifer, “Just think of something fun, Harriet.”
“Er... well given the dreadful weather outside, we should try and think of a
sunny place,” said Harriet. “But why don’t you guys choose!?”
“Oooh, I know just ze place,” Fleur cooed excitedly.
The Coven filed back outside into the icy downpour and waited as Fleur paced
back and forth by the door of the barn several times. Fleur turned the handle
of the door when she was finished and everyone held their breaths as it swung
open. Delightedly, the Coven found themselves on a bright sandy beach, the
blue-green waters of the sea sparkling in the sunlight and lapping at the
shore.
“Oh! The Côte d'Azur!” squeaked Hermione joyfully. “That was a lovely idea
Fleur...”
“Oui!” Fleur nodded and beamed radiantly. “Zis is beach near a village not so
far from Saint-Tropez - ees not so popular with non-magical tourists as mos’
must hike or take boat. But for wizards, is easy... and for us, even easier,
non?”
“Bloody brilliant Fleur!” Dora grinned. “What say we all dash back to the house
for bikinis and sunglasses...”
The Coven spent the rest of Saturday afternoon lounging in the stunningly
realistic simulation of the French Riviera under summer skies while the late
January rainstorm continued to rage outside.
Sunday passed just as pleasantly, everyone relaxing and engaging in hobbies.
Harriet took the opportunity away from Hogwarts to remain in girl form, and had
another go at painting under Jennifer’s expert tutelage while Hermione and
Fleur retired to the library for a bit of light reading. Daphne joined Harry
and Jennifer, interested in trying her hand at painting as well - though by the
end of the session, there was more oil paint covering Daphne than there was on
her canvas.
Dora, Parvati, and Luna spent part of the morning in the music room as Ginny
looked on. Luna tapped away on the drum machine while Dora played the keyboard
and Parvati warmed up her voice. Dora caught Ginny’s eye after half an hour of
making a racket.
“Oi, Ginny, you look a bit bored. Come ‘ere...” Dora gestured at the
synthesizer.
“Er... What?” Ginny squeaked nervously. “I don’t know how to play piano.”
“You don’t really ‘ave to know how, to have a bit of fun at first,” said Dora.
“That’s the beauty of a synth... I can show you enough t’get you started. We
can try making a song.”
“Er...”
“Go on, Ginny,” begged Luna, brightening at the idea of Ginny joining in
properly. “It’ll be fun! ... Please?”
“Yeah... Come on Ginny,” said Parvati imploringly. “Give it a go.”
“Oh alright,” Ginny grumbled, clambering to her feet. “So what do I do then?”
Dora fiddled for a moment with a few buttons. “There, that oughta do it...
Should be a nice synthy-bass tone. Yeah! ... Alright then, hit that key...”
Ginny tentatively tapped the white plastic key and a loud rumble boomed from
the amplifier. She jumped back, squeaking. Parvati and Luna giggled.
“That’s fine,” said Dora encouragingly. “Go on, hit it again. All you need t’do
is tap out a rhythm...”
Ginny bit her lip and began bouncing her finger on the key.
“Yeah... That’s it - just like that, Ginny. Now, see these keys...?” Dora
pointed at two more keys and Ginny nodded. “Alright... You can tap out a beat
for a bit on the first one, then go to that one and do the same thing for a
bit, and then the same on the other. All you gotta do is keep time. ... If you
can count, you can do this, no problem...”
Ginny went back and forth between the keys while Dora counted out for a bit
until she thought she’d got the hang of it. She glanced at Dora questioningly.
“Brilliant!” Dora grinned and picked up her guitar. “Just keep doing that.
Luna, start hittin’ that drum machine again - you and Ginny just watch each
other and tap out the rhythms. I’ll join in, with a chord progression, and
Parvati, you just make up a melody and whatever lyrics you want...”
After about ten minutes it all came together and actually sounded like a song.
Ginny beamed, amazed that she was actually making music with the others.
Several hours later, Harriet and Hermione poked their heads in the door of the
music studio.
“Blimey!” said Harriet, looking impressed. “That sounds really good.”
“Ta Harriet,” said Dora. “What’s up you two?”
“If you’re all hungry, Dobby’s got lunch ready,” said Hermione...
                                     ~o0o~
After lunch, the rest of the day proceeded apace, and too soon it was over.
When Hermione crawled into bed that night and snuggled under Harriet’s arm,
Harriet caught a whiff of Hermione’s toothpaste and let out a contented sigh as
she stroked her tawny curls. Harriet felt so relaxed the following morning that
she almost forgot to change back into boy form until she saw herself in the
mirror after a quick shower.
For a moment, Harriet considered returning to Hogwarts as a girl, and just
changing back into Harry whenever she felt in the mood. But a knot of anxiety
formed in her stomach at the thought. Dean, Neville, and Viktor were still the
only ones besides the Coven who knew that Harry could turn into a girl - not
counting Dumbledore.
Viktor and Neville had never actually seen Harry as Harriet though, and as far
as Dean knew, Harry had simply been disguising himself as a girl during the
search for a Ministry facility just to keep the Ministry off his trail.
Harriet wasn’t sure that she was ready yet for anyone else to know that she
actually liked being a girl sometimes. That sort of thing was definitely looked
down on in the non-magical world - Uncle Vernon wasn’t the only one who thought
people who sometimes presented themselves as the opposite gender were freaks -
and Harriet was quite certain that most wizards would think she was a weirdo
too.
There was no question that she had been growing more and more resigned to being
famous as the Boy-Who-Lived, but Harriet still felt that she would much rather
not be the centre of attention and potential scorn at Hogwarts yet again.
Besides, it was still very important to keep being a metamorphmagus a secret,
Harriet reminded herself. Sighing, Harriet watched as her features changed and
she was Harry once more, then he put on his bathrobe and returned to his and
Hermione’s room.
Hermione was already dressed when she heard Harry entering the bedroom. She
glanced up and caught the look in his eye.
“You alright, Harry? Is something wrong?”
“Er...” At first Harry wasn’t really sure what to say, but then the words came.
“I just felt like being a girl for a bit longer, but I’m really not comfortable
at the idea of anyone else knowing. ... And it really ought to stay a secret
for now anyway,” he concluded with a sigh.
Hermione’s brow furrowed sympathetically. “I’m sorry Harry. You shouldn’t have
to feel that way...”
“It’s alright really,” said Harry as he dressed. “I’ll manage. At least I can
be who I like when I’m with you and the others, and I can actually change
physical form whenever I want to. ... It’s got to be loads worse for people who
feel trapped in the wrong body all the time and can’t transfigure themselves as
easily as a metamorphmagus, and get treated badly if they do dress up or get
surgeries to change themselves.”
“You’re probably right,” Hermione nodded. “Still, nobody should be afraid to be
themselves in public, not even you, Harry.” A sudden thought occurred to
Hermione and she bit her lip guiltily. “You know I was just joking on Saturday,
right?”
“Hunh? About what?” asked Harry’s muffled voice as he pulled his school-blazer
over his head.
“When I said that if I ever worked out how to magically produce my own semen
that you should be prepared to morph yourself a womb if you wanted more than
one child with me. I was just kidding... I swear! I don’t want you to feel
trapped in the wrong body for nine months Harry!”
Blazer now properly in place, Harry peered at Hermione’s worried, earnest
features and ran his fingers through his mussed up hair.
“Of course I know you were joking, Hermione,” he said reassuringly. “But
honestly, for you I’d do it! You’re going to have a brilliant career - I just
know it - and I don’t want you to think I expect you to be stuck at home all
the time having loads of kids...”
Harry was cut off when he suddenly found his arms full of Hermione, who had
flung herself on him and was showering him with kisses. Harry grinned,
staggering slightly under the onslaught of Hermione’s vigorous affections.
“You’re so sweet Harry,” said Hermione. “Anyway, we don’t have to even think
about children until we’re properly old enough...”
“...not until our thirties, right?”
“That sounds about right,” Hermione giggled, giving Harry a proper kiss on the
lips. “Now hurry up and get your robes on, breakfast at Hogwarts will be
starting any minute...”
Moments later, Harry and Hermione greeted the rest of the Coven in the Parlour,
and one by one they stepped through Aphrodite’s portrait at Jennifer’s manor,
and emerged from the other copy on the other side of the wall at Hogwarts...
                                     ~o0o~
Several weeks had passed since the hearings in the International Confederation
of Wizards’ head offices had begun. It was mid February, and the snow in
Brussels showed little sign of abating just yet; heavy flurries swirled outside
the window of the chamber in which the hearings were being conducted.
“This meeting of the Committee for ze Investigation of Statutory Violations is
hereby called to order - presiding officer, Dame Angelika Machschnell.” The
stern looking German witch’s voice rang out in the chamber as she banged her
gavel on the wooden trivet. She peered at the other six members of the seven
member Committee.
“Ve are here today to consider bringing charges against ze British Minister of
Magic, Dolores Jane Umbridge. The charges before us stand as follows: First -
that Minister Umbridge has knowingly colluded with a non-magical Official.
Second charge - that Minister Umbridge has engaged in ze subjugation of non-
magical persons, specifically those unfavoured by the aforementioned non-
magical Official.
“Third charge - that Minister Umbridge has engaged in ze systematic oppression
of wizards born into non-magical families. Fourth - that in carrying out ze
subjugation of non-magicals, and the oppression of wizards from non-magical
families, the Minister ordered the commission of multiple Crimes Against
Humanity.
“And lastly, but certainly not least, Minister Umbridge is also charged with
ordering ze attempted assassination of Harry James Potter. Further charges may
be issued, pending arrest and full investigation, but zese charges alone are
enough to detain Minister Umbridge, and hold her over to face an International
Tribunal.
“It is my recommendation zat this committee shall bring to the floor of the
General Assembly of the International Confederation of Wizards a motion to
issue an International Arrest Warrant for Minister Umbridge, and that sanctions
be brought to bear against ze British Ministry until such a time as Minister
Umbridge is taken into custody. How say you all?”
The Nigerian delegate, Madam Ogoba, was quick to respond.
“I second the motion!” she stated firmly, with a look that dared the others to
disagree.
“Perhaps... a measure of caution is warranted before we render a decision,”
said the Greek committee member in an oily tone. “We should not move with undue
haste. I still have questions regarding the veracity of Ms Mason’s and her
daughter’s testimony, and the evidence presented by Dumbledore’s people.”
“Perhaps then, you also qvestion ze integrity of the committee’s own
investigators, Herr Papadopoulos?” snapped the German head of the committee.
“Ze testimony of all non-magicals - including that of Ms Mason and her daughter
- vos confirmed by pensieve examination of their memories...”
“Memories may be altered or manipulated,” interjected Pericles Papadopoulos
“However, such alteration alvays leaves traces.” Dame Machschnell glowered at
the Greek delegate. “Our Legilimens haff verified that ze memories of all those
who provided testimony are unaltered - a true representation of events.
“Likevise, our investigators haff confirmed all ze evidence collected thus far:
the documents, the artifacts - including the wands of torturers and murderers -
and ze tools of necromancy, the footage filmed during ze raid on the
concentration camp...
“Perhaps you vish to call zem to testify again? ...including Ms Mason’s young
daughter? The girl is available to speak if you vish to subject her to the
torment of recounting her travails in person...”
Pericles narrowed his eyes and shook his head.
“That will not be necessary,” he said quietly.
The head of the committee barreled on, her jaw set, eyes glittering
dangerously.
“Then there is the testimony of a Kappa assassin - who ve haff in our custody
should you vish to speak to him...?”
Pericles shook his head again, and Dame Machschnell continued.
“Ze confirmation of a single piece of evidence vould be enough to bring even
one charge against the Minister... and we haff many such pieces of evidence.
And over these past weeks, you were here in these very chambers as ve examined
all this evidence, were you not?” the head of the committee concluded
pointedly.
“Yes, indeed I was,” the Greek delegate answered slickly. “I merely wished to
be certain of all the facts before irrevocably and irreparably damaging the
sterling reputation of such a highly respected head of government as Minister
Umbridge.”
“How very noble of you Pericles,” Madam Ogoba offered coldly, her nostrils
flaring. “We wouldn’t want to harm the reputation of someone who encourages the
rape and murder of children now, would we?”
Several members of the committee coughed and shuffled uncomfortably in their
seats at Olubunmi Ogoba’s pointed remarks. Dame Machschnell raised an eyebrow;
her steely look made it clear that the time for debate was long past.
One by one, the committee members raised their hands to affirm the decision to
bring charges against Minister Umbridge. Finally, slowly, when the count
reached him, Pericles Papadopoulos raised his own hand as he smiled thinly at
Madam Ogoba.
“A unanimous decision! Excellent!” exclaimed Dame Machschnell. “I shall call
for a full session of the ICW, and ve shall present our findings on ze floor
for a vote on Monday.”
                                     ~o0o~
Harry scowled at a particularly intractable Arithmancy problem on the
worksheet. He was loath to ask Hermione for help just yet, as he really wanted
to give it his best effort first. He sighed and peered out of the window of the
classroom, watching the snow as it came down again.
Winter seemed to still be in full gear at Hogwarts, even though Southern
England had recovered from January’s severe cold snap. The last few weekends at
Jennifer’s had been quite wet, but yesterday the clouds had parted for a few
hours of sunshine and temperatures that hinted at Spring, even though it was
still a month off.
Briefly, Harry wondered what Sirius and Remus were up to. The last time he and
Hermione had seen them, they would only say that they were quite busy, though
there had been very little indication that the Minister had made any more major
moves.
Harry finally returned his attention to the parchment on the desk, but his
befogged brain was still refusing to yield any answers. He heard the door open
and a gentle voice carry across the classroom.
“Alright you lot, I think you’re due for a break.”
Harry peered at Hestia, grateful for the interruption.
“Harry dear,” said Hestia, addressing him with warm familiarity. “Professor
Dumbledore would like a word with you in his office - all of you that is. I
think it might be some good news...”
Harry perked up. “Really? What’s going on then? Does this have something t’do
with the Minister?”
“I think the headmaster is in a better position to answer your questions dear.
Hurry along now...”
Hestia turned to Jennifer who was working on a History assignment. She gave her
a hug and whispered in her ear. A flicker of puzzlement crossed Jennifer’s
features, but she nodded before joining the others.
“What was that about?” asked Harry as they made their way to Dumbledore’s
office.
“I... I’m not sure,” Jennifer replied, biting her lip pensively. “Hestia just
said that there was someone we were going to meet, and that we might be able to
help them.”
“That’s odd. I wonder who it could be...” said Hermione. “Oh well,” she
continued after a moment of thought, “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
When the Coven crowded into the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore was waiting
with twinkles in his eyes, though nobody else but Fawkes seemed to be there
with him. Harry supposed that whoever else they were meeting was waiting in
another room. As usual, Dumbledore offered everyone comfy chairs and cups of
tea. Once everyone was seated the headmaster began.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Dumbledore beamed. “I have some welcome news
that concerns us all, though that is not the only reason why I have asked you
all to join me...”
“Hestia told me that someone wants to meet us,” Jennifer interjected.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed, “And momentarily you shall. But to begin with, the
news which brings us together is that the General Assembly of the International
Confederation of Wizards met early this morning in Brussels. They issued a
ruling based largely on the evidence gathered by you during the raid on the
Ministry compound in Wales, and also during the rescue of Arthur Weasley, not
to mention the testimony presented by those rescued - including that of
Puddleby’s mayor.
“The Committee for the Investigation of Statutory Violations has spent several
weeks sorting through the evidence, and suffice it to say that they found it
all credible. Thus, when they made their recommendation to the General Assembly
of the ICW today, a resolution was passed to issue an International Arrest
Warrant for Minister Umbridge.”
Jaws dropped, and gasps of amazement issued from the Coven. The air itself
seemed to crackle with excitement. The portraits on the wall burst into
applause and Harry’s eyes widened.
“That’s excellent sir! Does that mean that they’re sending help?”
“Alas, that is beyond the purview of the ICW,” the headmaster answered. “The
matter is still regarded as an internal conflict, and foreign forces would only
be dispatched if this conflict threatened to spill across international
boundaries.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Harry sighed, “It might be too interfering
otherwise.”
Hermione nodded in agreement.
“Indeed! However,” Dumbledore continued, “it does mean that our cause is
legitimised, and that Minister Umbridge is more or less trapped in Britain. It
will be very difficult for her to find safe haven, should she choose to flee
when we close in on her.”
“About that sir,” said Harry, “how’s it going finding the rest of the
internment centres?”
Dumbledore let out a sigh. “Ah... Well, as you know, after your raid on the
Welsh Compound, the others were much more carefully hidden by the Ministry. We
are still looking, of course, but our forces are still stretched somewhat thin
- despite an upsurge in recruitment - especially as we now have a sizable
contingent protecting Puddleby from suffering further retaliatory measures.
Though I do believe that our efforts have kept the Ministry’s attempts to round
up more muggleborn to a bare minimum.”
“What about countering the Minister’s plans?” asked Hermione. “Do we have any
idea yet what she’s planning next.”
“Not at the moment,” Dumbledore responded with another sigh. “However, I am
considering several of the most likely scenarios - one of which is that she may
make an attempt to lay siege to Hogsmeade, to draw myself and Harry out - and I
am formulating a number of plans to counter each and every one of them.
“When I have some further information regarding her movements, I shall be
certain to inform you. And then we shall choose the best option - one which
shall hopefully lead to the end of this war. Now, if there are any more
questions, please feel free to ask.”
When nobody seemed to have anything else to ask, Dumbledore nodded.
“Well then, perhaps it is time to meet our guests.” He waved his wand and a
tall mahogany bookcase slid to the side, revealing a hidden door. Harry
wondered if it led to Dumbledore’s quarters. The door swung open, and four
people stepped into the room.
Harry flushed in recognition. The shy little girl reddened as well and hid
behind her mother. A hot cauldron of emotions stirred inside Harry as he
recalled the state in which he’d last seen the girl. A surge of savage fury
flooded his veins, remembering what the guards at the Welsh compound had done
to her.
Then he caught the eye of Clara Dawson’s sister Gemma before she quickly looked
away, whom he was quite certain had been subjected to similar treatment by
Minister Umbridge’s Death Eaters.
For a brief moment, Harry felt like blowing something up, or burning another
building to the ground. Hermione quickly took Harry’s hand and gave it a
comforting squeeze; he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling himself
calm again.
Dora chewed her lower lip, sharing a look of commiseration with Clara Dawson.
Jennifer swallowed, suddenly realising why Hestia had given her the heads up.
She glanced at Harry and saw the same distress written all over his face. She
knew that if Harry was too upset to say anything, that it might be up to her.
“Introductions hardly seem necessary,” said Dumbledore softly. “But I would
like to say that the testimony of Ms Andrea Mason and her daughter Samantha,
and of Gemma Dawson, was crucial in swaying the Committee to press for the
arrest of Minister Umbridge...”
“And we wanted to thank you all for that opportunity, and... and I really
didn’t get a chance to thank you properly when you rescued us,” Andrea suddenly
interjected. “Words really aren’t enough - but thank you...” Tears began to
trickle as she attempted a smile.
“Thank you especially for saving my daughter, Samantha - she means the world to
me. I... I could have died happy knowing that she was safe, but... you saved us
both - gave us both a chance to be a family again... Thank you so much!”
“And thank you for my sister,” said Clara Dawson, putting her arm comfortingly
around Gemma, who looked like she was about to cry. “I don’t know what I’d do
without her.”
Gemma nodded gratefully, opening and closing her mouth, clearly too anxious to
speak.
“Th...thank you! ...from me too!” squeaked a scared little voice from behind
Andrea Mason. Samantha peeked her head around her mother, then hid again.
Harry suddenly found himself with tears streaming down his cheeks. The little
girl looked even younger to his eyes than he or Hermione had at her age, the
year they had started Hogwarts.
“Er... Hi!” Harry barely managed to croak. “You’re welcome... all of you...” He
glanced at Jennifer, catching the rest of the Coven’s glistening eyes as he did
so, and then peered questioningly at Hermione and Dora.
Dora nodded, knowing exactly what Harry’s question was. She had been asking
herself the same question for some time.
Hermione could feel it too. She knew what Harry wanted to say - what he wanted
to ask if he had a voice.
“Hello!” said Hermione as she smiled, her own eyes teary. “I’m glad we were
there - that we were able to save you, Samantha... to save all of you...”
Hermione peered earnestly at Samantha’s mother and at Gemma Dawson. “We... we’d
like to help you some more if you’ll let us... if Professor Dumbledore will let
us...”
“I... I don’t understand,” Andrea Mason looked puzzled. “You’ve already done so
much for us. How can you help us more than you already have?”
All eyes turned to Dumbledore. The headmaster peered back at his students over
the top of his half-moon spectacles, feeling the same ache in his heart as they
all gazed at him beseechingly.
Dumbledore sighed inwardly, raising his bushy eyebrows as he rubbed at his
furrowed brow. He had to concede that their unspoken request wasn’t entirely
unexpected. He had considered the idea himself, but had decided to leave well
enough alone unless a member of the Coven brought it up. It was a dangerous
prospect in these troubled times.
But now the burden of the decision had been thrust right back in his lap.
Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes finally came to rest on Jennifer, and he knew that
in the end, there was only one correct choice for this circumstance, and that
he had to be the one to make the offer.
“Ms Mason, Samantha... Ms Dawson,” he began, “What my students are offering is
nothing short of a miracle - a miraculous healing. What might normally be
accomplished only after many months - if not years - of counseling and recovery
for victims of trauma, can be accomplished in the space of minutes... thanks to
a special talent of two of those who sit before you.
“My students - Harry and Hermione Potter - are the only ones to have seen a
certain spell through to its fullest potential - a spell which drives away
Darkness, Death, and Despair - a spell which restores the Spirit. They are
truly the Masters of this Life affirming spell as are no others in the wizard
world.
“With this spell - in their hands - Samantha’s and Gemma’s nightmares can be
put to rest and their terrors dispelled... if they would allow my students to
perform this Charm upon them.
“There is only one possible side-effect of which you must be aware. If either
Samantha or Miss Dawson harbour a certain recessive gene - and there is a
possibility that they might - then this spell could activate this gene. If this
should occur, Samantha and Gemma... they would gain the ability to control
Magic - in short, the possibility exists that they may become witches.”
“You’re joking!” gasped Andrea Mason.
“Are you kidding?” asked Gemma Dawson quietly, speaking for the first time,
frowning, looking slightly suspicious.
The headmaster shook his head. “Not at all. If you or Samantha do indeed gain
magical abilities, you and she would need training of course. Samantha is of
the right age to begin such training here at Hogwarts. And though you are
certainly past the age of majority, Hogwarts is currently operating an
Independent Studies programme, so you would be able to remain an learn while
being spared the indignity of sitting in on classes with the younger
students...
“And under the circumstances, given the situation with the current Ministry, I
could see fit to allow your sister Clara, and Samantha’s mother, Ms Mason, to
reside here as well for the time-being. The choice is yours and Ms Mason’s of
course.”
“Erm... I... I don’t know. This... this is quite unbelievable...” Andrea Mason
trailed off, a shocked expression on her face, and glanced at her daughter
uncertainly, whose eyes had turned into saucers - wide and pleading.
“Mummy? Please...?” squeaked Samantha.
Gemma glanced at her sister uncertainly...
                                     ~o0o~
Garrick Ollivander tapped his steepled fingers against each other while he
waited in Dumbledore’s office with a large trunk full of wands. He peered
curiously at the woman in the armchair next to his, and at the headmaster.
Dumbledore had sent for him nearly twenty minutes ago with a cryptic request.
Ollivander was extremely grateful for the Order’s protection in one of their
safehouses, so of course he had come at once.
A number of Dumbledore’s delicate silver and gold instruments appeared to be
whirring and spinning with great intensity as Fawkes eyed them warily. Not more
than ten minutes later the door burst open and a giddy little girl ran in
squealing loudly, a radiant smile on her face.
“Mummy!” she shouted gleefully. “I can do Magic... I’m a witch now!”
The little girl was followed by two young women walking at a more sedate pace,
both whispering. One of the young women rolled her eyes.
“Go on, Gemma! Don’t be silly!” said the slightly older looking young woman.
“Of course I don’t mind you being a witch. Now let’s go get you a wand...”
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