30 September 1978

[7] Best Laid Plans

Her first Order meeting since her arrival was about to begin and Hermione was just realising the task ahead of her. She sat at the back against the wall, shadowed, as members long dead in her own time filed in. Most didn't notice her, dressed in plain robes. Dumbledore sat beside her serenely, surveying the room over his half-moon glasses.

"RIGHT," barked Moody, signalling the beginning of the meeting. Several members in the front row jumped, "Welcome and so on. For newcomers, I am Alastor Moody. Head Auror at the British Ministry, boss of a number of dunderheads in this room," This throwaway was directed at Sirius, who rolled his eyes at the older man, "And I will be chair of this meeting today."

There was a smattering of applause, which the wizard waved off, "Longbottom, report."

Hermione watched with interest as Frank Longbottom rose. Tall and aristocratic, he exuded a confidence that she rarely saw in his future son, but when he quirked his lips into a smile and raised a hand in greeting, she saw the family resemblance shine through.

"Hi all, Frank Longbottom. One of the aforementioned dunderheads," he inclined his head towards Moody as a titter of laughter went around the room, "I track Death Eater activity as a part of my job and identify persons of interest."

He unrolled an enlarged page from the Prophet, a social section that Hermione realised, with a spike of alarm, was centred around two pictures of her from the previous Sunday night ball.

Frank didn't comment on the pictures first, he launched into a timeline of Death Eater activity, mostly focussed on a raid that had occurred that Monday in a mixed Muggle/Magical neighbourhood. One Muggleborn witch and two Muggles had died, baffling Muggle authorities with an apparent lack of cause of death. Dread pooled in her stomach, and she clenched her fist around the wand in her pocket.

He then turned to the Prophet page, "A new person of interest has appeared in the circles of known Death Eaters. She has been taken on as a Black family ward," an apologetic glance at Sirius, who sat impassively, "And made her debut at last Sunday's Black Ball. As you can see, You-Know-Who has taken an interest, which means she could be very dangerous."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, quietly, but it was enough to have the people around him glance at him and then alight on Hermione. She stood as whispers spread through the room and people turned to stare at her. Frank's jaw slackened when he followed the gazes of the crowd and landed on her small frame.

"Er... hi," she said unimpressively. Dumbledore stood and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"This is Hermione," he said, unnecessarily. Remus Lupin, seated next to Sirius, crossed his arms and whispered angrily into Sirius's ear.

"Hermione Selwyn," she added, "Don't worry, not a Death Eater," A weak grin.

"Albus, explain." McGonagall's lips thinned, and her nostrils flared, a sign of her annoyance.

"Hermione joins us from Europe, where she was privately educated. She has been tasked with infiltrating the Dark circles as a part of our multi-pronged attack."

Moody crossed to the back of the room to examine her, and she noted with some surprise that his body was intact – both legs, eyes, and an entire nose. His eyes were dark and sharp as he took in her appearance. She flinched away when he made to grab her left arm, angling the cursed scar into her body protectively.

He sniffed and turned away, taking a few steps before spinning and firing a spell – orange in colour – in a display of vicious speed. Hermione had erected a shield with one wand and settled in a defensive stance with the other poised for attack before the spell crackled against the barrier and dissipated.

Moody looked satisfied, "Very good, girl. You'd do well to observe," he directed this at the watching audience, "An excellent example of CONSTANT VIGILANCE."

He shouted the last words, those close to him jumping again at his raised voice, and then gestured to Hermione impatiently, "Come and introduce yourself, girl."

She moved forward before her brain had processed the command, finding herself at the front of the room next to Frank.

"Frank Longbottom," he said cheerfully, holding out a hand. She shook it, firmly, and smiled.

"Well," she started, purposefully ignoring the penetrating stares of the Marauders, "As Dumble- Albus said, I'm infiltrating the inner circles of Voldemort."

A couple of people flinched at the name.

She continued, "I'm using the fact that I am relatively unknown to my advantage. I have visions that I am passing on to him in part, to build enough trust that he takes counsel from me."

"There is a Death Eater called Selwyn," said a woman sitting in the second row. Her face was rounded and kind, but her eyes were shrewd, "Are you related?"

"Distantly," admitted Hermione, sending up a silent apology to the actual European Selwyn's, "My family is from Portugal; however, I was educated in a small British-run academy in Obidos."

Academia Portuguesa de Magia was indeed located in Obidos, and if anyone cared to examine the records of the school, they would find her results and enrolment record.

She had chosen Portugal out of genuine familial connection; her grandparents Leonor and Tomas Moniz had lived in Portugal for most of their lives before moving to Hampstead Garden, England when their daughter, Jeana Maria Moniz, married English dentist Richard Granger and had a daughter; Hermione Jean Granger.

She had fond memories of early childhood trips to Lisbon, her Avó telling folktales in Portuguese, and of the discovery of the magical community in Portugal when she visited the small country early in her Hogwarts education.

The woman who had questioned her stood up and offered her hand. Hermione took it and tentatively shook her hand.

"Alice," she introduced herself, and then nodded her head at Frank, "Alice Longbottom. I'm also an Auror. If you've convinced Albus, you've convinced me."

Neville's mum, she realised. The physical resemblance was stronger than that to Frank, but her easy open demeanour was not something she had passed to her only son, in Hermione's time at least.

Dumbledore took the opportunity to clear his throat again, drawing attention back to him, "As I'm sure you can appreciate, Ms Selwyn is taking a significant risk by telling you this, and as such, I would like to place an Oath on the occupants of this room that this information will not leave the room."

She saw a number of creased foreheads and muttered words. Remus was surveying her warily, and she realised that Peter Pettigrew was sat on his other side.

"Of course," added Dumbledore, "If you don't wish to be bound by Oath, please come to the kitchen immediately to be Obliviated so as to not compromise the mission."

No one stood. Dumbledore looked around with a pleased expression and began the performance of the Indicare Charm.

Anyone who tried to speak of her mission with outside people would choke on their tongue, unable to speak. Attempts to write it down would freeze their fingers and disintegrate the parchment. Incredibly unpleasant and very difficult to circumvent. She relaxed her rigid shoulders as Dumbledore finished the charm, feeling a little safer for it.


She sat back in her seat at the back of the room, but she could feel the glances of the curious Order members, no longer inconspicuous in her plain robes. Moody began wrapping up the meeting, so Hermione took the chance to slip out before she could be mobbed with questions.

They had met, today, in Ipswich in an abandoned warehouse. It was at the top of a hill overlooking the port. She could see the cars lined up uniformly and the water beyond it glinting dimly in the overcast light. Her scar twinged and she rubbed it unconsciously.

A hand grabbed her elbow roughly. Hermione acted without thinking, jamming her elbow back into the body behind her, ducking underneath the arm and bringing her wand to the throat of Sirius Black.

She faltered, and he used her hesitation to swat her wand away from his throat and step back with his arms in the air, "Woah, it's just me."

"What almost got you expelled in your fifth year at Hogwarts?" She kept her wand trained at his chest.

His face drained of colour.

"Well?" she snapped, impatiently prodding the wand at him.

"I... er... tricked Snape into going after Moony."

She eyed him for another moment, and then dropped her arm.

"Merlin's balls, Sirius, why the fuck would you sneak up on me like that?" She flopped onto the grassy knoll with a sigh. He sat beside her, and she took a moment to examine him. He was clearly tired, and there was a tightness around his eyes, the only indication of his worry seeping through the vestiges of the mask of his Pureblood upbringing. Still, he looked content; whole.

"You went to the Black Ball," he stated, trying to keep the bitterness from flavouring his tone. From the look she gave him, it seemed he wasn't quite successful. It wasn't so much that he still wanted to attend himself but given how thoroughly and efficiently his family had dispatched him, his mother and brother taking to her so quickly left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Yes."

"How was dancing with the second-place Black heir?"

He was trying for a joke, but Hermione shot him a look of deep reproach, "You know, maybe if you got your head out of your arse for a bit, he wouldn't hate you so much for leaving him there."

He scoffed, "He fucking loves it, lording around the place with our parents kissing his arse."

She looked at him incredulously. "Are you actually that stupid, or do you have to try really hard to get there?"

"I'm not the one turning up at pureblood balls and dancing with Death Eaters and Dark Lords," he snapped, sensing the rising ire like a bloodhound, determined to stoke the fire, "Getting mixed up in circles like that is dangerous."

"I'm well aware."

"Are you? Because it seems a hell of a risk you're taking with no real plan."

"What makes you think I don't have a plan?" Hermione fought to control her temper; this time's Sirius Black was turning out to be just as infuriating at her own, "Just because you do everything with little to no thought doesn't mean everyone else around you does too."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you haven't got the presence of mind to plan your actions, now or in my time."

"How are we meant to know you're who you say you are?" He changed topics, veering away from his real or perceived irresponsibility, "How are we meant to know you're not a Death Eater playing for him?"

"I've provided my proof to Dumbledore," she gritted her teeth, "If you don't want to believe me, fine, I don't actually need you."

He lunged for her, catching her off guard and gripping her left hand, "What's on your arm?"

"What?" she tried to tug her arm out of his grip, but he was taller and strong than her, kneeling in the grass over her.

"You've got something on your arm, what are you hiding?" His face was twisted in suspicion as she doubled over to prevent him from pulling up her sleeve, "Are you marked?"

She reared back in horror at the suggestion and he took the opportunity to push her robe up her arm, a triumphant gleam in his eye. The gleam morphed into an expression of consternation when he registered the jagged scar, MUDBLOOD, carved into her arm.

Although the wound no longer bled, it still looked raw and violent, radiating Dark magic and marring her terracotta skin. She pulled her arm from Sirius's slack grasp.

"Happy?" she snarled, her chest heaving.

"How-"

"Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me for three hours under the Cruciatus Curse, and when I wouldn't break and tell her what she wanted to know, she decided that spilling my dirty blood was the best way to convince me."

His skin was blanched, and his mouth opened soundlessly, his eyes still glued to the scar.

"The Dark Lord," her voice barely hitched on the moniker, "decreed that magical blood should not be spilt, but mudbloods were fine. Because we're not really magical, we're barely even human."

He shook himself out of his daze, his skin taking on a green pallor, "Why don't you glamour it?"

"Because I don't want to," she replied, shifting so the sleeve fell across it again, "I'm not ashamed of it. Glamouring it feels like letting her win, like being a mudblood is something I should be ashamed of."

"Don't call yourself-"

"Why shouldn't I?" she said fiercely, echoing a conversation with Ron years earlier, "Mudblood and proud of it."

"What if someone see's it?" Sirius tried to argue, feeling a flare of irritation when she rolled her eyes.

"I'm not an idiot, Sirius. Obviously, I glamour it when I'm around them."

He opened his mouth again, but she cut him off, "I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but I'm not wasting energy on your games, there's a war going on."

She turned in a small circle and disappeared with a muted crack.


Authors note: Hi again everyone! I have a second chapter ready to go out very soon and I've also started a new Regulus/Hermione fic called Silver Tongue, Golden Heart. Check it out if you're one of the ones ready my Reg in this and wanting a pairing out of it.

Please read and review!

~Alycat