Blanket Disclaimer: The DNA test is back, turns out I'm not J.K. Rowling, go figure. Don't own it. Never will.
Chapter One: There's Something in the Air
Harry stood on the Hogsmeade platform, off to the side, away from the jostling crowd of students; his eyes focused on the majestic prospect that Hogwarts offered. He could still recall with perfect clarity the first time he saw the grand castle, still remembered the mingled sensation of wonder and disbelief he felt as they approached the school in boats. Now, five years later his feelings for this place were somewhat marred by the various sorrows and regrets he'd picked up along the way.
His mind heaved a weary sigh and not for the first time since Sirius' death, he silently wondered if things would ever feel normal, whatever that meant. But more than anything, he fervently hoped that the terrible dull ache he got in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of his godfather would fade sooner rather than later. It wasn't only the sorrow, but the small twinges of guilt that made it all the more difficult to cope, all the 'what ifs' that circled in his mind day and night and made his stomach churn and his head spin.
It'd been two weeks since the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Fourteen days since he'd seen Sirius fall through that damn veil. His dreams were plagued with memories of that night but the veil...the veil always took center stage, looming ominously in front of him, taunting him.
Harry felt a light hand on his shoulder and his musings were cut short. He heard Hermione spoke's soft voice, "Harry," as expected, he didn't respond. She sighed resignedly and shook his shoulder gently, "Come on, Harry. The train's just about ready to leave. We don't want to get left behind."
His eyes remained unwaveringly on the view before him as he spoke in a low, nearly hollow voice, "It's gets easier, doesn't it?" He finally turned to face her, his eyes misty and sad. "It has to get better. Right?"
The desperate sorrow in his gaze and voice broke her heart, her eyes stung and she had to swallow a couple times before answering in an equally low voice, "Yes. Eventually."
Her hand slid from his shoulder and down his arm as she took hold of his hand. She squeezed it gently, reassuringly, before muttering a quiet, "Come on." and tugging at his hand for him to follow her onto the train.
Their senses were assaulted once they stepped over the train's threshold. There was a tangible buzz in the air as students bustled about their compartments, most bemoaning their lack of elbow room, while the girls relayed the latest gossip in barely hushed tones and the boys argued (rather over-zealously in Hermione's opinion), over which Quidditch Team would make it into the finals this year.
The second the two friends came into view of the first compartment however, the racket emanating from its occupants died down and they stared at the duo almost as though expecting something to happen at any moment. As soon as they were out of sight of one compartment, the buzz reignited more vigorously than before, while the following compartment quieted. They both faltered slightly at the reaction, but Hermione recovered quickly, squaring her shoulders discreetly, her jaw set as she squeezed Harry's hand once again, urging him forward.
As they continued down the corridor the pulse of noise gained a nearly rhythmic quality, at times almost gaining a rhythm that was reminiscent of waves hitting the shore during a storm. They studiously avoided the mixture of glares and curious looks that were shot their way, both instead opting to look straight ahead. By the time they reached the compartment Hermione had secured for them beforehand, they had walked nearly the entire length of the train car. Hermione slid the door shut with barely contained violence as soon as they were inside and sighed, aggravation and relief intermingling.
They both leaned their against the now closed door, hands still clasped together, before they both heaved themselves off the wall to place their bags in the overhead compartment, Hermione mumbling discontentedly, "Well, that was a bloody nightmare."
Harry's eyebrows shot up as he whipped around to stare at her in wide-eyed incredulity. He couldn't remember having ever heard Hermione swear before.
Hermione rolled her eyes slightly at his expression, "You know, I'd forgotten how unpleasant it was having the entire school watching us last year. After Skeeter's article about us, I mean. I was so put out at having everyone talking about us, our personal lives," she sighed tiredly, "But now, I guess I can't really blame them for wanting to know. This isn't about some idle piece of gossip. It's bigger than that, this time it affects them too, even if most of them don't realize it yet."
She looked over to Harry and was unsurprised to see him staring at her, looking utterly shaken, and a little green. Not much had been said between the six about their Ministry escapade, nor what their most recent revelations meant not only for them personally, but for the Wizarding World as well. It was the first time any of them confronted the enormity of the situation and had actually voiced it. There was a war on the horizon and, like it or not, they were at the center of it.
Harry stared, open-mouthed and unnerved for a few seconds before suddenly pulling Hermione into a desperate, fear induced hug. She laid her head on his shoulder, her arms wound around his neck while Harry's encircled her waist, his face pressed into the side of her neck.
Still locked in their comfortable embrace, Harry broke the calm quiet, "We're going to make it through this, aren't we 'Mione?"
He spoke so quietly, so obviously looking for reassurance, it caught her off-guard. She knew there was a good chance one, or possibly both of them, wouldn't survive the inevitably approaching war, but that was the last thing he needed to hear right now.
She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, they were filled with doubt and worry. She smiled up at him warmly, "Of course we will. We're us."
He looked at her in appreciation and responded with a small smile of his own. The moment ended abruptly when the ground suddenly began shaking violently. They both jumped in surprise and glanced around looking ready to pounce. After a second glance out the window revealed the moving landscape, realization washed over both their faces as they looked at each other and laughed heartily at their blatant display of paranoia.
Hermione eased herself out of Harry's comfortable embrace, letting her hands slide down his arms and giving his hands a quick squeeze of reassurance, and walked over to the seats, all the while reaching up to grab her bag and trying to undo the gold brooch on her robes with her free hand. Her bag dropped onto the seat just as the brooch at last relented; she let out a satisfied 'Ha!' and slid out of her soft robes gracefully, revealing a pair of dark wash jeans and a black, cap-sleeved blouse.
Harry followed suit. Opting against trying the skilled juggling act Hermione had put on, he draped his robes over his arm before grabbing his knapsack from its place above the seats. He folded his robes as best he could, trying to minimize the amount of space they took up.
He turned around just in time to see Hermione shove her robes into her black leather messenger bag unceremoniously. Harry stared at her bag quizzically, it was by no means small, but it definitely wasn't large enough to fit a set of robes in it either. He smiled faintly as he realized it was more than likely enchanted to hold more than it seemed. 'She must have found the spell during one of her all night study sessions,' he thought fondly.
Hermione was now rummaging through her bag for her book. Finding it at the very bottom, she muttered an irritated, 'Of course.' and sat down across from Harry. They sat in an amiable silence, each immersed in their respective distractions. Suddenly something occurred to Harry, it was quiet, too quiet. Where was Ron? He looked across to where Hermione sat, immersed in her small paperback, "'Mione, where is everybody?"
She started slightly at the sound of his voice, but was quick on the uptake, "Well, Neville's with Luna, Ginny's with Dean and, knowing Ron, he's probably right there sitting between them." She silently laughed at the silly image that invoked.
Harry raised an eyebrow in amusement, "How do you think that's going?"
"Well, it's Ron and Ginny, so you know there's bound to be fireworks sooner or later. The former being most likely." She mumbled under her breath.
They both lapsed into silence once more only for it to be shattered not five minutes later, this time by the loud bang of the door as it was shoved open by Ron as he entered noisily, a scowl on his face, and threw himself into the spot next to Hermione.
"Unbelievable! I have as much right to be there as she does. I mean he's my friend!"
Hermione didn't bother to look at him, but smirked knowingly nonetheless, "Ginny kicked you out then?"
Harry smiled while Ron's expression soured further. He sat, seething and began muttering under his breath (no doubt about Ginny).
When the volume of his grousing started increasing and showed no sign of stopping, Hermione and Harry shared a tired look, both silently agreeing one of them should say something. She shot him a half-hearted glare when it became clear the task would fall to her.
She tried to control her temper and be sympathetic but only managed to sound annoyed, "Honestly, Ron! She's 14 years old. She should be dating and having fun. Stop being such a prat and just let her be!"
Ron stared open-mouthed, shocked and a more than a little frightened. Since when did Hermione use that kind of language? She fixed him with a glare, daring him to argue.
Instead, he swallowed thickly, "Right, well, let's just forget it," he looked at his watch nervously, "Prefects meeting in a couple minutes, we should get going."
Hermione huffed softly and turned back to her book. "You go ahead. I'm staying here."
Ron's face twisted into bewilderment while Harry shot her a look of mingled curiosity and wonder.
Ron voiced his obvious confusion, "What do you mean you're staying here?"
His question was sharp, so fully demanding an answer that it had her inhaling deeply in an attempt to tame the ire it kindled.
"Well, in order to go to the Prefects meeting you'd have to be a Prefect, which I no longer am." She replied in an even, almost light tone, silently rejoicing at the amount of control she managed to exert over her voice.
Harry's expression turned to one of shock but before he had even opened his mouth to speak, Ron's voice reverberated through the compartment, "What's that suppose to mean!"
Hermione sighed tiredly, "It means that as of today I have neither the responsibilities, nor the privileges that come with being a Prefect."
Ron's expression was livid, "What? You can't do that!"
She gave a short, contemptuous laugh, "All evidence to the contrary. Now, I know you're use to telling Ginny what to do with her life, but don't you dare even think you have any right to tell me what to do. My life, my decision, so I suggest you drop this right now and go. You don't want keep Lavender waiting." She relaxed back against her seat and turned her head resolutely toward the window, effectively eliminating any possible continuation of the discussion.
Once again Harry were left speechless by his friend's suddenly brazen attitude. Ron's temper withered somewhat under Hermione's fierce demeanor and he walked out of the compartment.
As soon as the door clicked shut Hermione exhaled loudly, shaking her head slightly, trying to dispel the irritation she still felt.
Harry eyed his best friend in thoughtfully, "'Mione..."
"Because it's not important to me anymore," One look at Harry and she knew that wasn't going to cut it. "Because, the way things are heading, I'd say there are bigger things to worry about than who's breaking curfew." She laughed derisively.
Harry smiled wryly at her. He liked this new side of Hermione, "But why didn't you just tell Ron all that? Don't you think he'd would've understood?"
There was a flash of annoyance in her eyes before her face shifted, looking resigned, "No. I just - things between us have been...tense lately. Everything he says or does just gets on my nerves," she half growled.
Harry gave her an odd look, "So? It's not exactly a secret that you two get on each other's nerves."
She grimaced, "I know, but it's gotten worse. We can hardly be in the same room for more than two minutes without getting into a row about something, anything really. He doesn't seem to realize the magnitude of what's coming and it's just so..." she shook her head as her eyes wandered toward the window and lingered for a few seconds before a large sigh escaped her and she turned back to Harry, "Anyhow, have you talked to Dumbledore since...since that night?"
It was his turn to grimace, "If you count raving at him like a maniac and nearly destroying his office, then, yeah, I suppose I have."
Her only reply was a sympathetic, "Right."
"Besides, I don't really see there's anything left to say." Hermione shot him a questioning look, prodding him to continue his train of thought. When he spoke again he sounded weary, "I just mean that even if I did try talking to him, I'd wager he wouldn't be very willing to answer any of my questions let alone volunteer any information on his own."
She released a tired sigh and glanced out the window to her right, "Right, so if we want any more information, we're going to have to find it out ourselves. It'd be better still if we could get out from under his thumb though. The fact that he insists on making you stay with those sorry excuses for people year after year..." She shook her head in anger.
Harry nodded in grim agreement, "He says its something to do with the blood wards that are in place there. It keeps Voldemort out and my presence recharges them or something," at Hermione's skeptical look he continued, "Yeah, I'm not sure I buy that either, and after this whole business with the prophecy, I'm staring to wonder what else he's kept from us. Are there any other pieces of life-changing information he's been holding back from us?"
"More importantly, why hasn't he been training you for this supposed 'final battle' against Voldemort? I mean, he's known about the prophecy for years, why hasn't he been helping you prepare? For that matter, why didn't he tell you about the prophecy last year, after Voldemort's return?"
Harry grit his teeth, glaring out at the passing landscape and spoke scathingly, "He said he didn't want to ruin my childhood, he didn't want to place such a heavy burden on me," he scoffed. "I doubt he would have even told me of the prophecy this year if we hadn't found out about the original at the Ministry."
"Well, if we've learned anything from this whole mess its that we can't rely on Dumbledore if all he's going to give us are half-truths and platitudes. Not if we're going to survive this. We need a plan. More importantly, we to train."
Harry cocked an eyebrow in suspicion at Hermione's tone, "Why do I get the feeling you already have something in mind?"
She smiled mysteriously and replied, "Because you know me far too well."
Any further conversation was put on hold when an owl tapping at their compartment window startled them. The duo watched for a second as the minuscule brown owl tried valiantly to keep up with the train's speed before Hermione leaned over and let the poor animal in. It fairly dropped into the room, involuntarily landing in Hermione's lap. She frowned as she stroked its head and relieved it of its burden, while Harry dug around his knapsack for the owl treats he usually kept on hand for Hedwig.
The owl perked up considerably when it caught sight of the treats and flew over to Harry's outstretched hand, quickly pecking at the treats before flying out the window once again. Harry looked up when Hermione inhaled sharply across from him as she stared down at the letters. She met his gaze sadly as she handed him his letter, "Gringotts."
Both sat in silence, staring at their respective letters in trepidation before Hermione sniffed quietly, discreetly wiping away a stray tear before sliding her thumb beneath the blood red wax seal of the letter. The letter was handled gingerly and Hermione looked for all the world as though she expected it to burst into flames at any given moment.
She cleared her throat delicately as she unfolded the letter and began reading it, her brow furrowing as her gaze continued down the page. Halfway through the missive she saw Harry from the corner of her eye as he inhaled deeply and opened his letter.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Due to the death of one, Sirius Orion Black, on the 18th of June, all accounts, possessions and properties previously owned by Mr. Black have been frozen and will be held in trust until the reading of his will.
You, and all others named the will shall be contacted shortly hereafter by Mr. Black's legal representation. Should you fail to attend the reading at the appointed time, or choose not to accept that which is bequeathed to you, the legacy shall, as per wizarding law, be considered forfeited to the Ministry of Magic to be distributed and utilized as they see fit.
Sincerely,
Ragnok, Head Goblin of Gringrotts Wizarding Bank, London Branch
Hermione read her own letter once more before trading with Harry. She read the letter twice before her hands to her lap. She glanced over curiously at Harry who was looking equally curious. Harry shot her a look before offering up, "Odd." She only hummed in agreement, "Hermione, what do you know about this wizarding law they mentioned?"
Hermione looked thrown for a second. Her interest had been piqued by something else entirely, "Oh. Well, it was a part of a series of laws the Ministry passed in an effort to raise funds during the first war against Voldemort. They were desperate, the war was escalating, Voldemort and his followers were getting bolder, and resources were running low. So they started levying taxes on everything from fire whiskey to Honeyduke's chocolates. They even went so far as to impose a tax on lycanthropes, which some say only gave them even more reason to join Voldemort in the end. But, that inheritance law was their most successful. With so many people dying in such quick succession a lot of wizarding families were wiped out entirely, leaving no one to readily claim the family properties and money. The law left the Ministry free to swoop in and claim it all for themselves. Quite a crafty solution given the political climate of the time," she smiled wryly and shrugged, "Well, by Ministry standards anyhow."
Harry snorted a laugh, then frowned as if something occurred to him, "Hang on. As far as I know there're no taxes on lycanthropes or any of the other things you mentioned. Why is the inheritance law still in place? Why wasn't it repealed along with the others after the war?"
Hermione smiled thoughtfully at Harry's astuteness. She's always known he was smarter than most people gave him credit for; he just needed the proper focus. "It was. Then, the Minister of Magic of the time, Millicent Bagnold, retired. She was what would be referred to as a hardliner nowadays, nothing could sway her from her loyalty to the Ministry, which led to the prosecution of some of the worst pureblood death eaters, including the Lestrange family," she hesitated for a second, wondering if she should divulge the next bit of information, "She was effective, Harry, but she held onto her principles to the point that she was blinded by them. It blurred the line between justice and vigilantism. Which is probably how Sirius ended up in Azkaban without a trial."
She let that sink in, silently watching as a range of emotions flashed through Harry's expression before settling into the practiced mask of stoicism he seemed to being wearing more and more lately. He signaled for her to continue and she coughed quietly, "She was succeeded by Fudge in the early 90s and...Well, we know just what kind of mettle our 'esteemed' minister is made of in comparison, don't we? The law was pushed through seven years ago, after a rather convenient reshuffle of the Wizengamot," Harry sat listening with rapt attention, eyes narrowed, as if half-expecting what was coming next and Hermione smirked, "And, yes, this reshuffle saw the addition of Lucius Malfoy and one Dolores Umbridge as well as six other members with deep pockets and questionable allegiances to match," Hermione laughed a little bitterly, "I would be genuinely surprised if even Fudge knew what team he's playing for these days considering how many masks he wears."
Harry was quick to question, "But what could any of them gain from passing the inheritance law?"
"Well, Fudge had the most obvious gain, he would gain hundreds of thousands of galleons worth of money and properties each year, all of which would be at his disposal. Politics is all about back door deals, even in the Wizarding World. Fudge probably promised the newest Wizengamot members a cut of whatever came to ministry as result of the law if they voted in his favor."
Harry threw his arms up in outrage, "Is there anyone in this bloody government how isn't corrupt, stupid, or just plain incompetent!"
Hermione smiled slightly, glancing out the window, "I wouldn't hold my breath," She turned back to Harry, gaze intent, "Politics aside," she paused, seemed to consider that statement and rolled her eyes, "Well, sort of. Sirius' will isn't being executed by Gringrotts."
She said it as if imparting something of great importance, but Harry couldn't see it. He stared at her blankly, "So?"
"There are only two reasons someone seeks legal representation outside of Gringotts when it comes to handling money and property transfers," she explained patiently, "One: they're looking to leave everything to Muggles, which is more easily handled by an external, wizard operated legal firm. Unlikely in this case. Two: they're looking for more discretion than the goblins can offer them, namely from the Ministry. Gringotts is in the control of the Goblins, but even they aren't immune to Ministry interference if they really want something done."
Harry nodded slowly, his eyes focused somewhere passed her shoulder before returning to her face, "So, you think there's something in Sirius' will that he wanted to keep secret?" She nodded and Harry shook his head, "What?"
There was a pause and Hermione's lips twitched upwards for a fleeting moment, "I have a hunch, but best not say anything right now. We'll find out soon enough."
Harry watched as she turned to lean back into the wall, her long legs stretched out on the seat, and spoke up, suddenly wary of the silence, "So, what are you doing this Summer?"
Knowing what he was about, she smiled sincerely, "Well, my parents are on a business trip in Australia meeting with a potential partner, so I've got free reign of the house, for a couple weeks anyway. Beyond that, I don't have much planned."
Harry's brows pulled together at that, "I thought you and your parents usually went on holiday together during the summer."
She shrugged lightly, "Not this year. They're planning on expanding the practice, so that's taking up most of their free time these days. I thought I'd do some research into defensive wards actually, runes and the like. You never know, it might be of use to us later on," her expression shifted to something akin to sorrow and concern as she considered him, "What about you, Harry? Are you going to be alright?"
He turned his gaze to the window as he replied, "I'll be fine."
His response sound so detached, so habitual, he was getting better and better at it as the years went by, and it scared her. She went to sit next to him and nudged his shoulder with hers. He turned around, surprised to find her beside him.
She slid her slim hand into his and squeezed it lightly, "Listen, if you want any company, to the will reading, or if you just need a break from the Dursleys, promise me you'll send Hedwig, or phone me. I'll be there, no questions asked."
The sincerity in her voice caught Harry unprepared and found his eyes tearing up at the offer. He pulled her into a hug, tangling his hand in her soft, wavy hair, "I promise. Thank you, 'Mione."
Hermione's response was muffled by his shoulder, "Anytime."
They released each other but neither moved away, each taking comfort in the other's proximity.
They spent the remaining hour of the journey enjoying a decidedly lighter atmosphere, only moving apart when they heard the train's whistle, signaling their approach to King's Cross. Hermione looked outside and was surprised to see the sky had darkened considerably in the course of their journey. She vaguely heard Harry saying something as he pulled down their bags but paid him no mind as she frowned and stood to get a better look at the sky. It wasn't just overcast, it was blanketed with pitch-black clouds, they looked...unnatural somehow. A shiver ran up her spine and she shuddered violently.
"...Not that I'm complaining I suppose." Harry threw Hermione a smile that quickly slipped when he saw that Hermione hadn't moved. "'Mione?"
He touched her shoulder lightly and she gasped at the contact turning towards him. Her hazel eyes were filled with muted fear when they met his concern green ones. "Harry, something's wrong."
They had barely glanced out the window long enough to process what they were seeing before there was a deafening BANG! Hermione felt Harry's arm wrap tightly around her waist as the train jerked violently to the side and they were both flung off their feet.