All the Harry Potter characters are the property of the magical JK Rowlings. I have no money, it is a waste of time and energy to sue me.
This was an idea I had back a few years ago, but I didn't get a chance to really work on it until a little while ago... conveniently right before the seventh book comes out and destroys all of my theories. Keep in mind anyone who starts this after the seventh book comes out that this book completely disregards the seventh book.
There will be several off the beaten path pairings in this work, which is going to be an exceptionally long work, by the way. I am not going to tell the readers beforehand for most of them, unless someone guesses in a review. While the pairings are a focus of the work, they are not THE focus of the work... which is why I'm not telling ahead of time.
Chapter 1
Time's Pendulum
February, 1999
Harry had tried to take a vacation after Voldemort's defeat. He really had. Professor McGonagall, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all believed it would do him good, and refused to let the idea go. They were convinced that Harry had suffered enough stress to fill ten lifetimes, and that after such a harrowing victory, he deserved a break. No one could go through seven years of fighting and not need a rest. Harry agreed that he needed a break, but more from their nagging than from the constant peril he seemed to be in.
Ginny and he had set out for Australia, traveling by port key to a beautiful beach resort in Sydney. It had been Ginny's idea to go somewhere with a beach, knowing Harry had never been to one before. He could still remember the twinkle in her light blue eyes when she told him she was going to make it her personal mission to make sure he experienced anything and everything he had missed out on being the Chosen One.
Sydney could not have been a more foreign or wonderful experience for Harry. It was like discovering he was a wizard all over again. There were so many things Harry couldn't get enough of, sand slipping between his toes, swimming in the ocean, flying on his broom over the cliffs, and, of course, getting a tan. Both Ginny and he were quite sure this was the first tan he had every gotten, even with all of his hours practicing Quidditch. There was something very entertaining and satisfying about having slightly browner skin, no matter what warnings he had received from Hermione about skin cancer.
And then there was Ginny. Harry found her more amazing with each passing second. Her mischievous grin formed a lump in his throat without fail. The way she moved entranced him, the confident sway of her small hips and athletic body. He felt like an absolute wanker around her, she was so gorgeous all he could do was stare, gape, and drool. It was as if he couldn't quite convince himself he was her boyfriend, and was instead just some prat that had managed to bask in her presence.
It seemed incredible to him that she could be extremely ardent and intense, and yet unbelievably gentle at the same time. When they argued, he was sure he saw steam coming from her ears. She took no prisoners; it was her way or no way at all. Yet she was also so loving, so soft and concerned when he needed her to be. He was mystified at how she read him so easily; no matter what he tried he was transparent before her. Ginny possessed a power over him that he was not sure she was totally aware of; she was one of the only people who could make him stop and think. She was also one of the only people that could have him in stitches, laughing as the tears ran down his face, no matter what he had been feeling moments before.
He just couldn't believe his luck that she had been so patient with him, refusing to go despite his repeated attempts to push her away. "I'm sick of this bullshit," She told him plainly that last February, "I'm sixteen, not a child, and I can take care of myself. This is my choice anyway, not yours. I love you and you need me, Harry, and that's that." He remembered looking at her hesitantly, trying to find some way to argue. She had just smiled, as if her statement had settled six months worth of arguments, and kissed him. That was the last time Harry had even attempted to push her away. Ginny was right. Harry needed and loved her more than anything in the world. Life without her was just not an option anymore.
They had made love for the first time on that vacation. Ginny took her role as Harry's keeper very seriously, ensuring he didn't try to return to help the Order round up the remaining Death Eaters. While her mother had probably not meant this as a command to keep Harry up every night in that particular way, Harry wasn't inclined to complain. He was a little shocked at how kinky she was, but then again, he should have suspected as much given she was related to Fred and George. He was also surprised at how much she liked doing it on the beach, in spite of his repeated warnings they would get caught. Yet somehow they never did; despite being a ritzy hotel, it was very secluded, they practically had the whole beach to themselves all the time.
Even though he couldn't have been more contented, something kept gnawing at him. Visions of the Death Eaters kept pushing their way to the surface of Harry's consciousness. The idea his friends were in danger without him gradually caught him in its clutches, refusing to let go. Harry could not free himself of the notion, nor rest while he was in its hold.
Ginny had smiled when he first told her of his worries, admonishing him teasingly, "You never stop acting the hero, do you Harry? They'll be fine! You need to relax…" The subject had been dropped as she began to massage and kiss his shoulders, and he lost all ability to think. Even Ginny eventually could not free him of his fears, however. Especially when Harry learned the Ministry had not found a way to get rid of the Dementors still roaming the English countryside. Letters and occasional talks over the floo network
didn't help either, only strengthening his conviction that he belonged
back in England, on the front lines.
When Harry had told Ginny he had made up his mind to go back, she tried everything she could to convince him otherwise. Harry had thought himself exceptionally brave and well disciplined to have remained firm in the spite of her yelling, her cajoling, and her covered in whip cream. In the end Ginny gave up, merely shrugging and giving him a wry smile. She told him she was surprised he had managed to make it two and a half weeks.
So they returned home. Neither Mrs. Weasley nor Hermione were particularly pleased to see Harry back so soon, but they kept most of their comments to themselves. Harry spent the rest of the summer at the Burrow with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family. His days were spent playing Quidditch and Wizarding Chess, being with Ginny, and helping Mrs. Weasley with the housework. His status as a member of the family was almost official, Mrs. Weasley had even mentioned adoption, but Harry had declined, dating Ginny would have become very awkward. Still, it was the first time he felt truly at home.
Occasionally Harry would help the Order with its efforts to get the Wizarding World back on its feet. Surprisingly, McGonagall had not shirked off his inquiries as to what he could do to be of assistance. She had merely nodded, and told him he could help as long as he was accompanied by one of the other members of the Order at all times. Mrs. Weasley had tried to protest, especially when Ron and Ginny expressed an interest in helping as well, but found she couldn't get the words out of her mouth. All Harry had to do was smile at her and she found herself speechless. She didn't want to do anything to make that smile disappear.
Never, could anyone remember Harry being as happy as he was the six months following Voldemort's defeat. The weight of the prophecy had been lifted off his shoulders. He was finally free to be with Ginny, and free to think of the future. A future that seemed shockingly bright beyond his wildest dreams. Hermione, Ron and he were allowed to go back to Hogwarts and complete their seventh year, alongside Luna and Ginny. It seemed that he would be able to become an auror after all.
Since many students, like Harry, had not returned to school during the end of Voldemort's reign, Hogwarts had two first year classes, and two seventh year classes. McGonagal decided that it was therefore appropriate to have two sets of head students. Harry and Hermione were Head Boy and Girl for the older seventh years, and Luna Lovegood and Colin Creevey were Head Boy and Girl for the younger ones. Harry had been extremely surprised at the appointment, expecting Ron or Ernie MacMillan to have been tapped for the honor instead. Ron had been very supportive though, grinning lazily with a shrug, "Prefect duties were bad enough, mate. Besides, I think if I were Head Boy people would actually expect me to do the job. Hermione would be a bloody nightmare."
There were many other surprises in Harry's final year at Hogwarts. One of the biggest surprises, at least for Harry, was that for the first time in over thirty years, a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher returned to teach a second year. Professor Boadicea Zenwich, managed to survive the fall of Voldemort. Most considered this to be a miracle; the one hundred and twenty year old witch had visited St. Mungo's twenty to thirty times the previous year complaining of heart problems. She was known to leave class at least once a week convinced she was having a heart attack. The only reason she had even taken the position when McGonagall had asked her was because she was convinced she was not going to live much longer. And yet despite another twenty some odd heart attack scares before the winter break of her second year, she continued to teach the class, and quickly became one of Harry's favorite teachers.
Life had never been so blissfully normal; Harry was sure this new found peace was better than any vacation. Besides, there would be plenty of time for frivolous things like vacations after Ginny and he had graduated Hogwarts. Once the dementors had been dealt with, Harry would happily frolic on a beach with his girl. But there was no way he could leave with the wizarding world still in a state of shambles. He'd miss the action too much.
During the winter holidays, McGonagall had let Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny stay at Grimmauld Place and help the Order seek out the remaining Death Eaters. She figured that the foursome would probably find some way to be involved in the hunt for the remnants of Voldemort's forces no matter what. At least this way they would be supervised and protected. The rest of the Weasley family had decided to go on vacation to Romania to visit Charlie. While the foursome had been invited, they all agreed that this was a much better way of spending the break. None of them had any idea how utterly wrong they would turn out to be.
Harry had tried to convince himself there was no way he could have seen this coming. It had been January, nothing really horrible had ever happened in January. Voldemort hadn't nearly succeeded in getting the Philosopher's Stone in January. The Chamber of Secrets hadn't been opened in January. Voldemort hadn't regained his body in January. Neither Sirius, Dumbledore or Moody had died in January. No, no, this should have happened in May or June; then he would have been prepared. He would have known better, he would have kept her safer. It was a lame and shoddy excuse, riddled with holes of guilt and despair, but it was all he had to cling to. His Ginny was dead.
Kingsley had taken Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry on what was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. All they were going to do was meet a wizard who claimed to have information on a few prominent Death Eaters. It was to be simple; Kingsley's way of making them feel like part of the team. They had even teased him about how lame the mission was, making snide remarks when he had warned them to be extremely cautious. "Please." Harry had said, smirking at Kingsley, "Flobberworms are more complicated than this."
Before they had even entered The Hog's Head, Ron had spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw Bellatrix Lestrange stunning the wizard they were supposed to be meeting. Kingsley had immediately cast an anti-apparation jinx, and they all chased after her. They finally ended up cornering her on the far end of Hogsmeade, in front of the Shrieking Shack.
In a flash of green light Bellatrix Lestrange had killed his lover. Harry still heard her scream sometimes at night. The death eater had aimed her wand at Harry, a demented, desperate look in her dark eyes. Ginny had screamed, and jumped in front of him, falling prey to an Avada Kedevra curse meant for him.
For a moment Harry could not believe it, he watched her body fall to the ground, light blue eyes still wide and staring at him. It was as if time had paused, and he spent an eternity watching that stunning face which once held so much passion and vitality turn a cold light purple. Even her hair seemed to lose its fire, turning to a dull crimson in the moonlight. And then suddenly time was back to normal, and he was seeing Ron, Kingsly, and Hermione, standing in front of him, protecting him as they fought Bellatrix. Yet another person had died protecting him and immediately more had come to take her place.
He broke. It felt as if his insides were exploding within him, trying to pull him in every direction. His brain throbbed with his loss, repeating her name over and over again, images flashing of her smiling, laughing, kissing, yelling, fighting… Never again, she was never going to do any of it ever again and it was all his fault, all his fucking fault because she fucking protected him, like his parents, like Sirius, like Dumbledore… Oh God, he just couldn't take it. His Ginny was dead and it was all his bloody fault. He felt himself collapse under the weight of his guilt and his broken heart, which he was sure Bellatrix was probably holding in her hands from the sound of her cackle.
Bellatrix. He suddenly looked up, his green eyes burning with hate. She was responsible for Sirius, and now Ginny. A distant part of him found it amazing that a moment ago his insides seemed to be coming apart, and now felt as solid and cold as steel. He let the coldness fill him, knocking Ron out of the way to stand face to face with her and yell- "CRUCIO!"
The woman had once mocked him, saying he didn't possess the hate or the guts to cast the Cruciatus curse. A part of him took grim satisfaction in finally being able to prove her wrong, in finally being able to watch her writhe and shudder the way she had made Neville shudder in the Department of Mysteries. He enjoyed the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her shrieks of agony as she collapsed into the grass, her black hair spilling and shaking in all directions like snakes. He raised his wand to strike again- only to be pushed to the ground by Hermione.
"LET ME GO!" He roared at her, green eyes still holding fiercely to the form of Bellatrix lying on the ground. She continued to struggle to hold him down, hugging him tightly as tears splashed down her cheeks. Ron came up behind him, helping Hermione hold him down. "THE BITCH DESERVES TO SUFFER! SHE SHOULD FUCKING PAY!" Wrestling against them, he heard Kingsley perform a stunning spell. He picked up Bellatrix, and looked at Harry, a resigned and tired look crossing his dark features. And then he was gone, taking Ginny's killer with him. Harry screamed, roaring in pain, rage, and self loathing.
Hermione continued to hug him as he screamed, fighting against her. Ron was at his back, reaching around him to hug both him and Hermione. Some small part of him realized that the tears that had been falling onto his shoulders were now mixed with icy snow flakes. They continued to hold him as his screams turned to sobs, as the fury which seemed to pull him together briefly left, leaving him once again broken, falling in several directions all at once. His heart froze alongside his tears.
He had no idea how long the three of them had stayed like that, or how long it took them to get Ginny's body and apparate back to the Burrow. All he knew was he woke up a week later at the Burrow, and he had apparently missed her funeral. Ron and Hermione were at his side constantly. They never left him, afraid they would turn their backs and he'd have disappeared that instant.
He tried to tell them they needn't worry; he was too numb to have any coherent thought, even about killing himself. He just wanted to lie in bed and wait for death to take him. He waited silently for the decomposition, for his body to gradually become one with the cream sheets; he waited for Harry Potter to disappear.
A few weeks later, McGonagall dropped by to see him. Harry had expected her to be prim and proper, shortly addressing him to get out of his stupor and come back to school. Instead, she had walked into the room he had shared with Ron, and plopped down on the bed next to him. She didn't even look him in the eye, merely pushing him a little so that they could sit shoulder to shoulder on the bed. The stiff, dark red fabric of her robes crackled beneath her as she shifted to make herself comfortable. She seemed as tired and weary of life as he was. Her dark brown hair had become much grayer; the lines under her eyes had turned into deep ravines of dark purple. He doubted she had gotten much sleep in the past two years.
After sitting there in silence for several minutes, she had quietly suggested he take another holiday to think. The Burrow had too many memories to it, it was any wonder he was not even more of a nervous wreck, staying in this house all day. She told him she had a cottage on the coast she liked to go to when she needed to think and be by herself, and she would be very pleased to let him use it for a while. Hermione and Ron could come if he would like them too, but she would also keep them away if that was what he wished. She dropped an old, rusty key in his lap.
McGonnagal paused for a few minutes, waiting for some kind of response from Harry before continuing. "Bellatrix Lestrange told the Wizengamot you used an Unforgivable Curse on her, Harry. Shaklebolt, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley testified on your behalf, however, and you were found not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. You were ordered, however, to take a vacation of some kind. It does not matter where or for how long, but you must go somewhere if you want to avoid Azkaban." With that she had gotten up from the bed, and walked toward the door. Pausing again, she spoke without turning back towards Harry, "Consider the cottage, Potter. You can do the same thing there that you do here, and no one will bother you."
Harry had no idea why he decided to follow McGonnagal's request and go to the cottage. Maybe it was to get away from Hermione's anxious looks, and Ron's cautious conversation. Maybe it was to get away from Mrs. Weasley, who he could tell still cried after every time she spoke with Harry. Or maybe he just didn't want anyone to argue with him, or begin to nag him to go. He just didn't want to deal with anyone.
Going to the cottage, however, turned out to be a mistake. The beach reminded him of the beach in Sydney, which inevitably lead to thoughts of Ginny. As he stared over the steel blue ocean, he realized what an idiot he had been to tell her they would have plenty of time for vacations later. That they didn't need one now. Ginny and he should have stayed in Sydney and never come back. Maybe then she would still be by his side.
He decided then and there he just wasn't meant for vacations. Especially if they could never include Ginny.
August of 2000
"You know, I was just thinking," Ron said thoughtfully, as he lay on the couch. He was so tall his shoulders were leaning against one end of the cushy maroon sofa, while his calves were resting on the other. Idly chewing a sugar quill, he spoke, "Why do they call themselves Death Eaters?"
Hermione let her eyes lift momentarily from her copy of the Daily Prophet, as she sat in what she deemed to be "her" armchair in the apartment she shared with Ron and Harry. Light spilled forth from the window behind her, draping their sitting room in the cold, silvery gleam of morning. She glanced toward the kitchen to see if Harry had heard Ron's most recent attempt to think before she answered, "Why does it matter, Ron?"
"Well… It's just that it's an odd name for them… I mean, I know the name is kind of scary and all that, but they don't really eat the dead now do they? You don't seem them going around graveyards having bloody corpse sundaes." He nodded, satisfied with his logic.
The image of a death eater sitting with a spoon in hand as he drooled at a corpse in an ice cream bowl, complete with whip cream, sprinkles and a cherry on top, came unbidden into Hermione's mind. She didn't know whether to giggle or sigh. She settled on raising her eyebrows at him behind her newspaper.
"They're not 'Dead Eaters' Ron," Harry called from the kitchen, his voice a little higher than usual, as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. "They're Death Eaters."
Frowning mid chew, Ron persisted, "But still- they don't exactly eat death, do they?"
Luckily for Hermione, her brain had no way to visualize eating death. "No, Ron, but I don't think they intended the name to be taken literally." Yet suddenly she found herself irritated by the name as well; it really did make very little sense. Great, Ron had done it again. Now she would be thinking about this for the rest of the week and unable to concentrate in her classes at Oxford. Professor Schloft would be telling the class the one thing they needed to know about telepathic communication for the exam and all she would be able to think about would be inappropriately named murderous cults. Damn him for finding these random, minor inconsistencies, and damn her for repeatedly being induced to try and solve them.
Maybe the three of them should spend Sunday mornings out instead. It was the only morning all three had to lounge around the apartment, Harry and Ron had auror training weekday mornings, and she had her classes. Saturday mornings she worked at Equality Now, an organization dedicated to fighting for the rights of magical beings such as goblins, werewolves and centaurs. While she enjoyed their Sunday morning ritual of simply relaxing together, she was beginning to think they ought to be doing something more active. Maybe exploring London, shopping, or going to a small coffee shop for breakfast. Anything that would keep Ron entertained long enough not to go looking for these little puzzles with which to give her a migraine.
"Besides," Harry said, entering the sitting room with three steaming cups of tea, "Voldemort was obsessed with cheating death. It was probably his way of saying that death could not stand in his way." Harry handed them both their cups before seating himself in the armchair opposite Hermione. He gave her a small affectionate smile, green eyes twinkling, and she knew at once she would never suggest that they spend a Sunday morning out. This was Harry's favorite time of the week, sitting, relaxing and talking with the two people who had kept him sane through everything that had happened over the last nine years. It didn't really matter what they discussed, Ron could talk about pygmie puffs for all he cared, so long as they were together.
"But still!" Ron said, refusing to let go of the subject "Why couldn't they have named themselves the 'Death Cheaters' then? Or the 'We Don't Want to Die Association'? Or how about the 'Voldimortians?'"
Harry snorted into his tea, "Voldimortians? The Death Eaters couldn't even bring themselves to say his name!"
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle as she folded the newspaper in her lap so that she could concentrate on her tea. "Still, 'Voldimortians' would arouse more fear than the 'We Don't Want to Die Association.'"
Ron tried very hard to disguise the smile spreading across his freckled face, hoping to come across as incensed. "I'm just saying they were badly named, is all." His greenish-blue eyes suddenly lit up, "I've got it! What about 'The Indestructibles!'"
"Sounds like the name of a superhero group to me…" Harry answered thoughtfully.
Hermione squinted her eyes as if trying to see something in the
distance. "Yes, I don't see evil cult bent on taking over the world on the behalf of a power crazy dark wizard. I see capes and groups of people who look like Christopher Reeves."
"Who's that?" Ron asked, lifting his head to look at her.
"Oh, just a muggle actor who used to play Superman…" Hermione smiled faintly, remembering the poster her father had put in their study when she was a kid. Hermione had stood gaping at it for hours; he was just so dashing, so heroic. She had sworn she was going to marry him when she was seven.
Somehow Ron knew what she was thinking. "A muggle actor who you drooled over?" He questioned, grinning slyly with one thick red eyebrow raised. Hermione deeply regretted having dated him for a year and a half at times like this. He never had a clue what she was thinking or feeling before their relationship, now he seemed to read her like a book. Damn him.
"Why do you ask?" She said; trying not to look flustered as a small blush crept upon her cheeks. "Afraid you would not measure up?"
Ron scoffed, folding his arms behind his head. "Oh please, I already know I was the best lover you will ever have."
Hermione scowled. "Once again Ron, I must inform you that 'best' does not mean most horrible, but rather greatest. I believe the word you are searching for is 'worst'."
"What about Death Defyers?" Harry interjected. Their relationship had been enough of a pain, there was no need to have a discussion about their former sex life. Besides, he already had enough mental images from Ron's proud ramblings, no need to add any more to the collection.
Scrunching her nose, Hermione shook her head. "Still too much of a superhero title."
"But I thought you liked superheroes…" Ron said, looking at her in mock surprise. Annoying Hermione was like a fine art. He considered himself a grand master, always able to get her to turn just the right shade of red.
Harry frowned, Ron seemed determine to have Hermione pulling out
chunks of her hair. "Maybe we are thinking about this from the wrong angle. Instead of a name that has something to do with death, what if they were named for their pureblood fixation?"
Mulling it over, Hermione answered, "That might be a bit better. It would have also made them look like more of a political party; they would have an air of legitimacy. What about the Blood Purifiers? Or perhaps the Blood Supremacists?"
"Those don't exactly ring of political parties though. Well, at least not a political party any sane person would vote for." Ron amended. "Which brings up another point, why in Merlin's name would they work with the giants and the werewolves if they were so concerned with blood purity?"
"Giants can do massive amounts of damage and cause fear and panic." Harry answered setting his teacup down on the small table sitting between the three of them. "And like Dumbledore said, wizards have been mistreating them for ages. So I guess they thought of it as a 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing." Although he knew everything had worked out the way Dumbledore had planned, Harry still wished he had gotten to see the end results. He wished the former headmaster had actually gotten to witness Voldemort's defeat, see that things were beginning to get back to normal. It had taken long enough, nearly two years after the Dark Lord's death, but life was finally beginning to take the form of something that made sense.
Harry still wondered what would have happened if Dumbledore had not sacrificed himself over three years ago. The Death Eaters would probably have been rounded up by now. All of them would be securely locked away in Azkaban, never to be heard from again. Azkaban most certainly would not be suffering from the massive outbreaks the Ministry seemed powerless to prevent. Dumbledore would have also found a way to rid England of the Dementors, which still caused a few deaths a month, as well as London's heavy fog. Till this day he never understood why Dumbledore had thought Harry more worthy to live than he. Even when he had out right asked the man's portrait, all the old headmaster had done was smile cryptically, saying "I believe the muggle expression is 'Out with the old, in with the new,' Harry."
"Besides, they were probably planning to do what all wizards do to magical minorities." Hermione said, brown eyes burning with righteous passion, "Exploit them while it was convenient and then discard them like garbage."
Ron rolled his eyes, "Oh bother; here we go again."
"You would think after the werewolves' rebellion during the war the Ministry would have learned that you can not repress people without consequences!" Ron looked bored as Hermione continued to rant, Harry tried to look sympathetic, but found it hard considering how many times he had heard this. "We nearly lost the war because of prejudice! And the centaurs! After the way they helped the Ministry ward off the giants you think they would have done something to restore their rightful lands. And house elves! Even those wizards who acknowledge our obligation to the werewolves and the centaurs ignore the plight of those poor, destitute creatures-"
"Hermione," Harry interjected gently, cutting Hermione's rant short. "The Ministry won't touch the issue of werewolves for exactly what you said: they rebelled. The Ministry is scared shitless that the werewolves would do much worse if given the opportunity. I'm not saying it's right, I'm just saying that is the way it is. And the centaurs don't want help from humans. According to Firenze, they don't even want to negotiate for more land; they just want us to stay the bloody hell away from them. As for the house elves, most of them are happy, Hermione. You can't save them if they don't want to be saved."
Ron studied Hermione's face, watching the exasperation and defeat fight for control. "Equality Now shot down your proposal again, didn't they?"
"Yes." Hermione sighed, slumping as much as she could in her chair while still retaining good posture. "They refuse to even look into the issue of house elves."
"Don't worry," Ron said kindly, "You'll find some way to bring them round." He agreed completely with Harry, and hated her long winded diatribes on the subject. But he knew how important the issue was for her, and how frustrated she felt. "You just got to give it time, you've only been working there a year, and part time at that. You're not exactly their best and most indispensable employee… yet."
Harry felt a wave of guilt; Ron had been more sympathetic than he had been. "You know even if I don't agree with you, I'll back you up one hundred percent, right?"
Hermione smiled, "Of course you will, and you will put one of the HELM stickers on your broomstick when I finally get this movement started."
"What is HELM?"
"House Elf Liberation Movement" Hermione answered proudly.
"Well I must say, that is a right improvement from SPEW." Ron replied with a teasing glint in his eyes.
"Hey, that's an idea." Harry declared "What about some sort of anagram for the Death Eaters?"
"Hmmm…" Ron mused, "In that case I prefer WANKERS, or Wizard Army of Nancy-boy Killers who should Eat Real Shit."
"I think that would be Wankwsers, not Wankers." Harry informed him, chuckling at the idea of the Daily Prophet printing that name in an article.
"We could change it to Wizarding Army of Nancy-boy Killers Everyone Really Scorns." Hermione suggested. Harry and Ron looked at her doubtfully. She shrugged, "I think it is better than Wankwsers."
"I guess so," Ron said, "But when I hear the words 'really scorns' I think 'woman dumped at the altar' or 'my mum talking about fowl language.' 'Scorn' just doesn't pack the punch that 'Eat real shit' does."
Scoffing, Hermione answered, "You would think 'woman dumped at the altar', you misogynistic pig."
Harry shrugged. "I really don't care about the word 'scorn' as long as it gives us a reason to call them Wankers."
"Do we really need an excuse to call them Wankers? I think they've plenty earned it." Ron stated.
"Good point." Harry agreed with a nod. "I say we try to get the Order to address the Death Eaters as Wankers from now on."
Hermione was still preoccupied with coming up with a synonym for
"hate" that began with an "s". "What about 'spurns'? Or how about 'shuns?"
Ron shook his head dismissively. "'Spurn' still reminds me of a woman dumped at the altar… And 'shuns'… Well, that's just bad. Can't explain any better than that, it is just really, really bad."
"Fine," Hermione responded primly, trying not to take Ron's clumsy criticism personally. "'Scorns' it is." She turned back toward Harry. "I really doubt MacGonagall would ever say 'wankers' in an Order meeting." Hermione couldn't picture the proper, steely woman saying the word period.
Harry wasn't so sure; MacGonagall had surprised him before. "Maybe she would at least allow us to refer to them as Wankers. It would probably do the group morale a bit of good. If she were approached by the right person…" Maybe he could ask Dumbledore's portrait to say something to her about the subject. He was sure the name was something that Dumbledore would have found incredibly amusing when he had been alive. The man had always loved a good joke in the midst of a grim situation.
"What about Tonks?" Ron suggested. "MacGonagall seems to like her. Not to mention she feels really guilty about not realizing the woman was trapped in her own closet for nearly fifteen months. We could ask her after auror training tomorrow!"
Grimacing, Hermione rebuked him, "Have some tact Ron! You shouldn't be exploiting Tonks because of the hell she went through. You saw what she looked like after…" Hermione gulped, "After that." She herself had failed to get the image of the starved, pale, beaten woman contorted into the fetal position out of her head.
Harry frowned. "I think she would find it funny, Ron. I just don't think you should mention the whole closet incident." While 'incident' didn't even begin to describe what their auror-training instructor had been through, he couldn't think of a more diplomatic way to say it. Hermione was probably right; 'hell' was the best way to put it. He still found her resiliency amazing. She had found her way back to sanity, herself, and her sense of humor. He wondered if he would have been that strong in the same situation.
"Alright it's settled." Ron said triumphantly, apparently impervious to his friends' admonishments. "We hereby re-christen 'The Death Eaters' 'The WANKERS.'" He waved his hand lazily towards Harry, "And since little mister Boy Who Lived to Grab All the Attention is Miss Tonks' favorite student, you can ask her to talk to MacGonagall about us using the prats' shiny, new, proper name in meetings." Hermione half-expected Ron to produce a gavel from his pants pocket and bang it on the table.
Harry's face had gone crimson. "I am not her favorite student," He muttered indignantly, "You're just mad because she still hasn't forgiven you for setting her Weird Sisters shirt on fire."
"Well, she was the one who told me not to hold back just because she was a woman when sparring with her." Ron sulked. "If she couldn't take it, then she should have said so."
Hermione sang something that sounded like "Sexist Bastard" in response.
"I'll talk to her." Harry didn't want to risk Ron saying the wrong thing anyway.
"Good." Ron chirped, always delighted when he got his way; it happened so rarely. "On to my next question," He said, snuggling further into the couch as Harry and Hermione exchanged resigned looks. "Why do people continue to buy Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans if they know that half of them are flavors like insecticide?"
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