Harry Potter and the Witch Queen
by TimeLoopedPowerGamer
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Summary: Harry Potter never actually beat Voldemort, but rather fought him to a standstill while Europe burned around them. Finding himself an unwilling part of a dark ritual to send him back in time 20 years, he is surprised to see how Dumbledore reacts to proof of obvious child abuse (Harry's), how 11 year old super-genius and Witch Queen in training Hermione reacts to actually having a socially competent friend (Harry), and how much easier it is to shrug off the insults of munchkins when you're a grizzled war veteran.
But there is one huge problem: being sent back blew out his magic entirely. Just waving his wand knocked him out the first time he tried it. Can Hermione help him though his classes even with his magic almost unusable? Will Harry be able to find the secrets to actually killing the Dark Lord and saving his friends from a horrible future without blowing his cover, or even getting mistaken for the Dark Lord himself? Will Neville Longbottom get better grades than him?
On Content: Canon-Harry lives in a dark world. This one is darker, with evil turned up to 11 and actual adult situations: everyone is more magical and dangerous, witches and wizards are preternaturally attractive and seductive, people are meaner, magical creatures are horrifying and have back stories, Harry has worse mental issues, teenagers are hornier, villains actually torture and kill people before the last book, etc. Rated M for Maliciousness.
Author's Note: Well, this chapter took longer than I wanted. Still writing, still plan on finishing this story, still a lot of stuff I'm still working on. I'll be doing NaNoWriMo (Google it) next month, however, so I won't be able to publish the next chapter until December. Still, it is almost done (stop laughing!) and I hope to have it published before the New Year. Thanks for reading, everyone!
As always, I've got a forum set up on this site to talk to people about the story. Drop by to ask me questions or talk about stuff to other people reading my stories. I'll also be posting stuff about my progress to the next chapter and a whiny excuse if I miss a deadline. See my Profile page for details and a link.
Of course, I still welcome normal reviews, but any questions asked in the forum can receive a public answer that everyone can see. Do both! Or neither! I'll try to answer all questions in a timely manner.
** Special Content Warning **: The content of the chapter does not really go beyond the standard warning, but there is a scene where Hermione describes what would realistically and historically have happened to a young witch in an arranged marriage on her wedding night a century ago. Not graphically, because that would be OOC as hell, but she frankly mentions the likely not-entirely-consensual nature of such an encounter based on historic, sex-linked social power structures. She also describes (thankfully briefly) both the sociological context at the time and how it relates to "modern" magical society and its current values. This is even less titillating than that description makes it sound. You are warned, however.
Chapter Eleven
Their arm suddenly ached with sharp pain ("-still hurts and he can feel it now, I should have learned a healing-") from Their earlier ritual knife wound. They felt very, very odd. There was a weight on Their mind, something They recognized as similar to a light Legilimency probe. They could also see at the same time both a very wide and frightened pair of soft brown eyes and a coolly confident and striking pair of green ones.
They noticed They also felt both of Their bodies at the same time – one, paralyzed from the spell ("-stupid, stupid, how can he ever forgi-") that...Hermione had put on...Harry's body earlier. Strange. It was hard for Them to think of having separate identities, even names, now that They were Joined. Senses overlapped awkwardly, some concepts seemed exaggerated, and there was some unusual background interference tickling at Their minds that They didn't understand. Thankfully, it was becoming easier to deal with every second. Like eyes adjusting to the bright glare of sunlight after a darkened room, They slowly regained both Their senses and the ability to focus.
There was the feeling of being under the sheets and blankets, of nightshirt on skin, all along with a skinny 12-year-old witch pressing down on Their unmoving form. It didn't hurt Them, it was merely a warm and heavy presence. They could also feel the body's heart beating a little fast and its steady breathing.
The other body produced the feeling of the soft, thick winter nightgown it was wearing ("-no you idiot, don't think about what you're wearing when he might be able to hear you! LA LA LA-"), the gentle movement of the other body breathing underneath it, and the blankets it was sitting on between them. One of Their hands, one of those belonging to the girl's body, still tightly gripped a smooth wooden wand handle. That one's breathing was slightly ragged and its heart was racing with panic barely contained. The left hand belonging to that body had run around the back of the other's head to hold Their foreheads firmly together, weaving its fingers into the other's hair for a better grip.
"This is really strange," Harry said, not sensing anything over Their mental connection as soon as he started to speak. He felt a little distant for a moment longer, then They started sensing everything clearer again. Something had happened when...he spoke, pulling him partially out of Their connection, but it seemed fine now. Well, not entirely fine. They were growing increasingly upset. The source of that feeling was clear.
"Hermione," Harry said firmly. Her body drew an abrupt breath but he didn't feel the connection to her retreat as far as before – in fact, those leaking and partially unconnected thoughts pressed down even harder and she started shaking ("-fouling this all up, and he must be angry, and I've certainly hurt his feelings terribly-").
"It's fine, Hermione," he interrupted quickly, still trying to pull back and communicate in a more normal way, but not yet resorting to Occlumency. He was beginning to be pulled into her panic while connected, so continued to try to speak out loud. "It'll be okay. I'm not mad. Just relax. Take a few deep breaths."
Slipping back into the connection again, They took a lungful of air together. Both bodies then nodded in sync. Briefly, They thought about having long hair. It sort of weighed down one of Their heads in a not entirely unfamiliar way ("-of course, he's a boy and has never worn it long...would he like it if I cut-"). Once more, They found Themselves getting sidetracked.
Harry pulled back a little and spoke aloud again, "Maybe it would be easier to get through explaining what's going on if you said everything out loud until you needed the link for something. There seems to be some kind of mental squelch built into the spell to avoid shared thoughts interfering with what you're trying to say. At least, that seems to be how it works."
As the connection finally retreated a little, he could hear a distant sort of hum from her, like from another room, then her eyes relaxed and she blinked a few times. "Of course Harry. That's a very good idea."
The hum continued as she took another deep breath with her head still pressed to his, tickling his face as she exhaled. Her hand adjusting its grip on the back of his head and her trembling stilled. The connection slowly began to return again. He could still feel her wand pressed into his side, though, ready to stun him. He...no, They approved of Their continued caution.
Hermione then spoke slowly and clearly, like she'd rehearsed this part in her head (which she likely just had). "I think someone has modified both of our memories. I'm going to show you what happened to me and then we'll look through your memories for something similar, as well as checking both of us for other memory charms or curses. I can't trust even my own mind right now. You've got to help me do this, Harry."
Instead of Their connection coming into focus again, shared senses grew fuzzy in an instant. Thoughts, both internal and half understood bits belonging to the other, skittered around like water on a hot skillet, making Them feel dizzy and more than a little sick.
"What's happening Harry?" Hermione asked in a panic.
"I don't know. Did you do something?"
"Not me! Did you?"
"No. Everything just suddenly went crazy. Maybe we should start over."
Hermione groaned and looked about to cry. "Oh no! I can't, Harry. It took so much out of me to cast this in the first place. It feels like I've run around the entire castle a dozen times. Maybe if we repeat the incantation itself?"
"I'm willing to try anything," he said, closing his eyes to concentrate. Without the magic driving his words, they didn't seem to come to him as easily. He had said something about giving himself and sharing-
Then all the sickening, lurching wrongness went away and They were One again as if nothing had happened. Confused, They swapped ideas at the speed of thought, racing through multiple possibilities. Several minutes and hours worth of internal discussion later, They decided it was something about what They had been thinking at the time throwing off the ritual. It did require specific and free consent from both parties, and though They didn't remember thinking about withdrawing from the ritual, maybe a stray fearful thought had been enough.
That made sense to Them, so They focused briefly on Their agreement and felt Their shared happiness at the way things were going. Even better, emotional syncing seemed smoother now and thoughts flowed more freely as identity became just a little more abstract.
They put down the wand, knowing it wasn't needed any longer. That was when They noticed one of the two that was One, the part who was The Harry's mind, couldn't directly control the other's body ("-ossover of motor control for the magical sensory interface, but shared proprioception appears unaffected, interes-"). Odd, it seemed They could label Their elements better now, even as thoughts flowed together faster and smoother. The sensation was similar to telling which was the left and which the right leg, if those had been given names for some reason.
Concentrating on what they needed to do, They cupped The Harry's cheek with Their hand and closed The Hermione's eyes as They started recalling the troubling memories They wanted to share. The spell book one of Them had read, and that They were now mutually using the knowledge of, had said that full sensory memory sharing wasn't automatic but that proper intent would bring the desired effect. It seemed to be starting to work, but it certainly wasn't easy or effortless.
Just as images began to come to Them, Their minds struggling as if trying to remember the answer to an especially difficult test question, They noticed The Harry's eyes were still open and looking fondly at The Hermione's face from this extremely close range. That interested Them, and They focused more on that feeling, tilting both Their heads slightly to get a better look. The Harry's body smiled as They took in The Hermione's face, now almost completely distracting Them from the task at hand.
One set of eyes still closed, They saw The Hermione's body frown cutely ("-huh?") in concentration, just like They always did when They were working on a problem. A part of Them wished that The Harry would stop being so distracting. The Hermione's beautiful brown eyes ("-WHAT?") snapped open, staring into The Harry's green ones.
The moment was smashed as images from The Hermione's memory of a dark, shadowy man standing over a bed were thrust into Their joined Foremind. It blotted out the fragile moment with feelings of panic and terror.
It was worse than They had expected. Their synced breaths came fast as cold, helpless emotions and sweat-soaked panicked thoughts all came together to almost blank out Their minds. It was from The Hermione's perspective, of course, and They fully shared her sight, her foremost thoughts, and her emotions.
There was a stranger, a dark shadow that didn't belong, springing from nowhere as her eyes flew open. Sleep had flown from her when some slight sound had alerted her; now there were primal feelings of sleeping interrupted and vulnerability as the curtains around her bed shifted slightly behind the figure. Panic. A thousand unspeakable scenarios ran through her already fully-awake second mind.
She was about to reach for her wand under her pillow- but no, too slow. His was already pointing at her, a whispered word on his lips, and then she couldn't move. In the memory, her mind raced faster than ever before in her life. A fraction of a second to swear that if she lived through this, she would find a way to keep it from happening ever again, no matter the cost.
This was worse than anything she had ever had happen to her before! (Was he a Death Eater?)
Why was school always like this, she just wanted to learn! (Was this her death?)
Harry must have felt like this before. (Would this man kidnap her, take her away from Hogwarts and Harry forever?)
She would never see Harry again. (Oh god, was this man going to, to do something to her?)
Please no, no, Harry- (No, please, not-)
A flash.
Then her mind was soft and,
(she was fighting, it was wrong, she would never surrender-),
but a soft haze fell over her thoughts and he was saying something and she would ignore the rat Scabbers who was a nice rat because he was just a rat and nothing about him was strange and anything she thought she saw him do wasn't important anyway,
(but it was so very important and she was failing Harry, which she had sworn an oath to never do this time, andshe-),
would only notice Scabbers to avoid that unimportant rat because she didn't like rats,
(and this must be a mental compulsion spell of some sort, a powerful one cast by an adult wizard, but she could-),
just forget about this because it was just a dream and she was falling asleep again and in the morning it would all be forgotten again.
(Rage! No, this was her mind, her fortress! A plan: store something away here in her magical mind with those senses and emotions most closely linked to memory...fear, smell!)
Fighting magical induced sleep, she took a deep sniff:
comforting girls dorm smell, ignore;
clean sheets smell, ignore;
her preferred shampoo and soap smell, ignore;
a filthy, terrible unwashed male smell (remember);
dirty robes and rat cage smell, (must remember, don't forget, don't fail him, remember, remem-).
A dim flash.
She wanted to sleep more than anything, except...she needed to remember...
They dropped out of the memories. The Hermione's body was shaking again, much stronger this time but They would not withdraw back into Their individual, lonely minds. There was strength even in this shared shame and pain. They were not alone now. No words needed to be said. There was a job to complete and They were brave enough to do it. The Harry must have his memories, emotions, and very magic inspected, his freedom of will determined. They must be able to trust Themselves again. Because They knew that shadowy figure now.
Pettigrew. They remembered him again. Everything he'd ever done. The Halloween betrayal They only knew from stories and one last horrible memory of the murder of a young family. A family They'd now never have a chance to know. Everything the Betrayer had ever done to The Harry and his friends in that other future time. More memories of a history They swore would never be again came quickly and easily now, only needing a thought to share.
They saw the rat's dishonorable end, alone and still trying to run in a snowy field somewhere in eastern Germany.
That future's Harry stood over a smoking body. His cold pleasure at finally avenging his family in some small way filled Them.
Looking over his shoulder, They saw his friends Hermione, Ron, and L- looking on. His gaze was focused on the hard but beautiful woman Hermione had become and the small, tight smile on her face.
She amazed and also scared him with her drive and her nearly overwhelming power. He was a very powerful wizard himself, most likely his old Headmaster's equal in raw strength if not knowledge, but she seemed to have surpassed them in both fields. He was proud to have her at his side in this never-ending fight against Voldemort's evil. She was the one person he couldn't imagine winning this war without.
As for the others...as for Ron and...and-
A haunting, humming tune drifted in the background of the memory.
They regained focus again, returning to the present. Now They believed The Harry's story about that future more completely. It felt right and true, beyond a doubt. They were still glad that there had been continued caution, though. It pleased Them even as it was a source of minor shame that this hidden doubt had still existed. They could trust even more fully if only this could be cleared up.
Attention was now turned to The Harry's more recent memories, those from the first few days of school. One specific night was clouded, knotted up and hidden from Them on purpose. That would not be allowed. Their minds were Their own.
Focusing all of Their attention at the burr in The Harry's memories, They tried to tease apart the fog and tangles by force of will. The rat Pettigrew had done something to Their Harry and Their Hermione. The Betrayer had hurt Them. That would not be allowed.
Physical senses grew dimmer as They sank deep into the connection formed between Them and into Their Harry's mind. All was now emotion and thought and Their magic. There was not some perceivable alternate world here, some concrete shared vision in which they walked hand in hand, but merely a cloud of thoughts and dream-wishes shared in their minds. Magical intent and an unnameable, secret elemental source, that from which their wills and minds sprung, connected shared concepts and thoughts with a tenuous spiderweb of logic and reason.
Pulling and tugging together at the hidden memory, They demanded of Themselves more and more power to rip away the Knot in Their Harry's mind. Their senses were filled with magics – both that of the older, more refined, small and sharp, and that of the younger, barely controlled and raging like a burning forest.
They gripped at the Curse together, prying it apart slowly even as Their magic ached and burned at the effort.
ALatch slipped and anotherForgotten, though not one of the Betrayer's,unlocked partially and swung open a crack. Memories leaked sloppily, as in dreams. Exotic incense invaded Their senses, something familiar but Forgotten.
They paused in confusion and started to look for this new presence in Their mind.
Soft singing, a woman rocked Them slowly. She sang a Song of Love and Defiance and the Music of Forgetting filled Their minds again. Their attention was gently directed away from that other Forgotten and back to Their true goal.
They were swept along with the Music. The other Forgotten wasn't important. They bore down together again, Their Hermione's magic thrown into Their Harry with reckless abandon, filling body and mind, giving strength and substance to their struggles.
Huge claws gripped the Curse tightly now, trying to crush it through sheer strength. But the Curse had been made by an adult wizard, with adult power and skill, and the Child's fury-born might was no match for it. Screaming out her frustrations in a titanic roar, she reared back and took in a huge breath, the thick, invincible scales on her chest flexing. Flames spat out from her toothy maw in a scorching howl, bathing the Curse in Burning Blue Dragonfire. The Curse glowed bright red and cracked, but it did not Break.
Naked but for a loincloth, his body covered in cuts and bruises, the Warrior now approached the Curse. Glaring with hate in his burning green eyes, he hefted his only remaining Weapon, a simple wooden spear with a sharp, well-forged steel head. He was tired and his entire body ached, but still he drew back his sinewy arms for a single, powerful, two-handed strike. His thickly muscled back arched, then flexed forward like a cracking whip. His arms, hips, and back moved in perfect sync, driving the spear into the Curse with terrific violence.
The force of the blow splintered the spear's simple wooden shaft, but the steel spearhead lodged itself deep into a crack in the Curse. Though his only weapon was destroyed, the Warrior would not give up. His Iron Will was unbreakable. Lifting a bare foot, he ignored the wooden fragments that remained from the broken shaft and drove his heel painfully into the spearhead's rounded metal back with one final blow, slamming it all the way into the Curse.
The pathetic, desperate little man's spell finally shattered like glass. They winced in pain as the shards that remained blew apart and scraped against both Their Harry's mind and his magic on the way out. A rapidly approaching headache was sharpy building, but that didn't matter now. They had won.
Something else Forgotten slammed shut and a Latch clicked again.
A hazy memory surfaced, much weaker than the other but clear enough.
Waking to a shadow, a flash like in the other memory, total paralysis, whispered words such as the rat is just a rat, ignore him, another flash, then forced sleep.
The memory was less detailed but was still filled with his anger and fear. Concern for a dear young friend and what would happen to her if he died were at the forefront of his mind. There were also thoughts for the safety of the rest of the world and other friends, both young and old, but most of what might have been his final moments were filled with thoughts of the bright guiding star of his life and her smiling face.
There was also another memory, a later one. Apparently the rat had gotten to Their Harry twice. Still, the other memory was unlocked, even if it was only muffled noises and a feeling of floating while someone whispered at him. All three events had been almost exactly the same. Though blurry, all were complete and apparently unmodified memories. There had been no other spells cast in any of the attacks. No mind controlling Unforgivables, no Dark charms other than a strong memory spell.
It was almost enough, but They had to be sure. The elder of the Two provided Them with information about the detectible mental and physical effects of mind control curses. That agreed with the old Auror manual's brief descriptions that They had recently read. It suggested that there were hints to look for, like pauses in action, emotional responses being muted, and magical auras corrupted and twisted by Dark spells.
They saw no evidence of anything like that in either of them. Thoughts raced free and memories were unclouded now, They had no missing time or unaccountable emotions, and They had just felt each others magic more clearly than ever before. With the exception of Harry's Dark curse scar, which was expected, Their auras were pure and untainted.
They rejoiced.
Snatching up Their wand, They flicked it precisely while muttering the counterspell to release Their Harry. There was then confusion and aching bodies tangled in the blanket still between Them as They toppled sideways, Their foreheads still pressed together and eyes squeezed shut on tear-stained faces.
Their arms, all four of them, wrapped tight as They lay next to Themselves. Meaningless comforting words played out in perfect stereo from Their mouths. It was impossible to stop shaking now and They were so tired, as if They'd just run a marathon. Relief and joy briefly smothered the sharp shared pain of an immense and growing migraine, but They couldn't rest yet. There were still plans that needed to be made.
Pettigrew would not be ignored ever again. Not now that They remembered. There were secret charms and magical items used to protect important government workers (the smart, skilled ones, like Mr. Weasley, and the vital but stupid, like Fudge) as well as for foreign VIPs (like the Delacour family during the Triwizard). They would eventually figure out how to acquire one of them. Both Hedwig and Sal and the other snakes could look out for Them for now. They would be safe. They would make Themselves safe, with magic and fire and an iron will that not even Unforgivables could bend.
They already had plans, now once again remembered. Ones to trap a rat and save an innocent man. To clear the name of the only family One of the Two who were currently One had ever known. Their last Shared thought before reluctantly separating and ending the spell was one of total agreement.
They silently swore that Vengeance would be Theirs.
Knowing that their cover was entirely and totally blown if anyone had been observing them at any time over the last ten or so minutes, Harry and Hermione sat on top of the blankets on his bed, forgoing everything but the basic silencing charms (which she'd already put up before the ritual). They were slowly recovering from their mental link, trying to sort their thoughts out again now that they were separate. It was a painfully lesser 'they' than before.
Though as excited to talk about his feelings now as when he really was eleven, Harry needed to figure out something to say that would make things less substantially weird between them. Hermione couldn't even look at him yet, now that they had ended the ritual spell and retreated to opposite sides of the bed. He didn't exactly blame her. They'd just been inside each other's heads and, in some strange way, that had been quite...intimate. Not a word he was particularly comfortable to have anywhere near very twelve-year-old Hermione Granger.
Looking over at his best friend, he saw her hands were still shaking. Comforting her was his immediate thought, but after feeling her very senses like they'd been his own mind and body, it didn't seem appropriate to reach over and give her a comforting hug or even touch her at all. Hermione was a very tactile, very huggy person, but any reassurances would have to be verbal only, at least until things felt more comfortable. But he had no idea what he should say.
He was still shaking a little himself from adrenaline and the side-effects of a mild pain potion he'd taken. Just after coming back, it had seemed like a sensible precaution to stock up on those when remembering what Hogwarts had been like the first time. It certainly helped with the crushing headache. Thankfully now that Hermione was no longer in his head and feeling his own pains, she didn't need a potion herself.
Breaking that curse hadn't been much more damaging for him than a good long Legilimency session with Snape. He would be back to normal once the magical mental trauma naturally healed. His previous life had involved near constant assaults by Voldemort through his scar's connection to the evil bastard. It was something he was used to by now.
But there was still something...off. An odd empty spot in his thoughts where she had been. Missing was the almost instant consensus and the lightning fast second opinion that he'd grown used to over their brief exchange. It wasn't that bad, but he knew by now that he had a skewed idea of what that meant. Hermione did seem to be doing okay, but he had to reminded himself once again that she was not the seasoned warrior-witch he'd grown into adulthood with. Despite much evidence to the contrary, she was still just a little girl. A little girl who'd just had a horrible experience and had dealt with it better and more effectively than most adults Harry had known.
So that's what he told her. "You handled that well, Hermione. If we could have told Professor Dumbledore, I doubt he would have come up with anything better. I think you did the right thing."
Her shoulders relaxed just a little and she stopped picking at the blankets in front of her. Placing her hands on her knees, she sat with her legs folded sideways on the bed, still not looking up. "We were right about the Imperius Curse? We're...we're not under it?"
"Yes, absolutely not."
"I read somewhere about it not being detectible after it has been used, so..."
"That's true. If it had been used on us and the terms of the curse had already ended, what we were command to do completed, then no one could tell afterward. It also leaves no trace after being released on the death of the caster of the curse. That's how Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy got away with claiming they were under the Imperius after everyone thought Voldemort died. But I'm still pretty certain we haven't had it cast on us. At least, not at school."
"How can you be sure and how does that Unforgivable really work, anyway?" she asked, then continued without pausing to wait for an answer. "The books on the Unforgivables in the library, at least in the non-restricted section, mostly read like Ministry propaganda pieces. How can we know how to protect ourselves and others from it if they censor that information? All those books were allowed to say was 'Don't cast it. Very bad spell. Go directly to Azkaban. Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200 Galleons.' That sort of thing. Useless. Honestly! How do they expect anyone to defend themselves without more to go on?"
Harry almost smiled. Hermione couldn't be too shook up if she was back to endless questions again. He was only surprised she wasn't taking notes for extra credit in Defense. Though asking Voldemort for that might be too much even for her. "The way it was explained to me during the war is that the caster gives a single instruction, one the victim has to understand, and then, unless they resist, they are forced to carry out that order to the best of their ability."
"So if you forced Goyle to do your homework..."
He nodded. "Big mistake. They might do better than they think they can, pushing themselves to the limit, but they can't do the impossible. As for detection, there is a subtle taint on someone's magical aura that can be read while the curse is active. Assuming you have a way to do that. Most of the time, security people can't check for it, as those magical scans are both invasive and very personal in nature. Similar to, err, to what we just did.
"That is one of the reasons the curse is so illegal, it is very hard to detect when someone is under control. Most common active mental magic can be detected with any number of common curse revealing spells, and people under them react oddly in some way. Some powerful magicals, most likely including the Headmaster himself, are said to be able to detect those lesser magics without even a spell. Not Imperius, though."
"But Harry, how do we know someone didn't use it on us and the order has already been completed?"
"Well," he said, "we'd still remember doing whatever it was."
She frowned. "Then our inability to remember anything unusual means we are likely okay? Assuming another, more complicated scheme hasn't been enacted on us?"
"Most likely," he said. "Obliviation, which is technically illegal for anyone other than Ministry assigned personnel to use, is unlikely. Unlike Imperius, such violations on magicals can be easily detected if someone looks close enough at a victim's memories. That's why Lockhart only uses it on people no one will ever check."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and he quickly continued before getting sidetracked once again. "It is especially visible to detection spells soon after its use and only gradually fades with time.
"Pettigrew would have to have cast it on us recently, and separate from his other attacks. And we, err, were rather close to each others memories, so we likely would have noticed something wrong. Add to that the fact that while Obliviate is relatively easy to cast on non-magicals," Hermione glared at him at that, but he continued, "it is very hard to cast on magicals and magical creatures. They have a natural resistance to it, one that scales with personal magical power. The best defense against the rat right now and him maybe using that spell on us is Sal and the other snakes. He is afraid of them, and for good reason."
They both looked over at her familiar, still coiled by the side of the bed. He nodded slowly at them, then lay his head down again.
"Good, I just wanted to be certain," she said thoughtfully. "I deduced that the rat can smell snakes. That's why he hasn't tried to apply the charms on me since that first week. It is also why I know he isn't in the dorms right now. I asked Sal to get his friends to hang out in here all day."
"Oh. Uh, pleassse thank them all for me Sssal," he said, turning again to the magical adder.
"Mossst welcome, Ssspeaker. I will tell my sssissstersss asss well," said a new serpentine voice from under the bed. Sal snickered his open-mouthed snake laugh and closed his eyes, resting his head on his coils but still periodically sniffing the air with his tongue.
Hermione smiled over at Sal. She looked a lot calmer now. Taking a deep breath, she said, "My magically protected sensory memories triggered in my extended mental space when Ronald was cleaning out his disgusting rat cage in the common room the other day. I think Seamus complained to a Prefect about it. The spell was wearing off anyway though, as the rat hadn't been able to recast it again on me like he did with you.
"Sal and the others usually stay in my dorm room at night, so the rat couldn't get close. After realizing what was happening, and...well, once I took a few minutes throwing-up my dinner in the girl's bathroom, I spent the rest of the night working apart the remaining magic of the memory charm that rat put on me. It was much less well formed than yours, likely because of my special...brain situation. So, that's how I remembered what happened. I'm worried about Sal though, especially if Pettigrew gets impatient with a snake hanging around me and my room."
"We should be able to make all of the snakes safe," Harry said after thinking for a moment. "They should hide, just not in obvious locations in your dorm room. I can tell them to keep hidden and stay away from any possibly poisoned prey or food left lying around in the castle as well. We'll have to make sure to feed them only secured food from sealed and protected sources, or stuff common to all the students. Maybe stuff directly from the kitchens.
"When they're not with us, if they keep to the secret pipe passages they should be safe. All those passages that the basilisk used... Will use? Anyway, those will work fine for them getting around. I think some of the older Slytherins actually have exemptions for pet snakes as well, so they won't be treated as pests or anything even if a teacher accidentally spots them. And no one will try to Obliviate them even if they know about them. I'm not sure that would even work. So they can warn you even if someone does something to you that you can't remember."
Hermione frowned in thought. She nodded, then started looking nervous again.
"You can ask me anything, Hermione," he said reassuringly. "I know this has been really strange..."
Biting her lip a bit, she finally said, "Harry, about that memory. The one from...after the rat died..."
"I can't really tell you about that," he interrupted quickly. "It likely won't happen again anyway. Those other people were my friends but, as I said before, they deserve a kind of privacy."
She nodded, staring at her bare feet poking out from under her nightgown.
"I wasn't going to ask about them," she said in a small voice, "though...I'm sorry, but I got their names from your mind by accident. Now I understand why you're trying to include Ronald in our study sessions. Which is fine, he's okay I guess. Most of the time. I don't know a Luna, though. And that's not short for anything... Maybe she's in a different house... Or she's in a different year, maybe not at school yet."
Harry sighed. Hermione held her hands up off the blanket in mock surrender, then folded them in her lap again.
"Was that..." she started, then hesitated. "Was that before I, you know, turned evil?" Tears were now collecting in her huge brown eyes.
"Hey now," Harry said with a frown, "you didn't really...as I said, that version of you just made some bad mistakes. It was...complicated."
She was still sniffling, clearly waiting for more. He sighed again. "That was long before the Bargain. The four of us were great friends, all looking for ways to fight Tom Riddle together." She nodded jerkily, then frowned.
"What I...what I really wanted to ask about," she stopped, then tried again. "Did I...did the adult me in the future really look that cool and, and beautiful?"
Her face was scrunched up and she was blushing.
Remembering the black combat robes, Auror-class enchanted combat body armor, and black dragon-hide boots they'd all been wearing back then, he chuckled. "I've always thought you were both pretty and pretty cool, Hermione."
She blushed even deeper.
"But yeah, we all thought we were superheroes or something. Dressed the part, too. I'm not sure we ever really did any good, though. Not in the long run. It wasn't long after we caught up with the rat that...that we went our separate ways." They both sat quietly again for a while. Hermione sniffed wetly a couple of times, then wiped her nose on her sleeve.
"I...I mean she had her hair natural, though. You know, all frizzy. Didn't she know the same charms I do?"
Harry frowned in thought. "I remember she did, or similar ones, but she almost never used them. Asked her about it once, after London. She said it didn't matter anymore. I don't know what she meant, but she usually kept it like that, just clean and tied back."
Harry could almost see Hermione processing that, her eyebrows scrunched up and her nose wrinkled while she chewed her lower lip in thought. He kept quiet, knowing it wouldn't help to interrupt. After a while she suddenly relaxed, blinked twice, then glanced up at him briefly before quickly looking away. Shaking her head, she started poking the blanket with one finger.
"What can you tell me about that spell?" Harry finally asked, searching for another subject. "I've never run into it before. Much better for that sort of thing than any I know of. What's it called?" She perked up a little, then poked at the blanket again, not looking at him. Harry simply stared at her, knowing she'd give in eventually. She couldn't avoid sharing information like that, it simply wasn't in her nature.
"I don't want you to freak out, Harry," she started, never a good sign. "It's called, err... I found it..."
"Look, I know it was a blood ritual," Harry said. "A minor one, but still – the Ministry doesn't like those. It didn't seem obviously Dark, so it can't be that bad right? You know I'm okay with that kind of magic unless it could hurt someone."
Hermione gulped and shivered a little, then nodded, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I had seen it weeks ago, but only remembered it after I discovered what happened to me the day before yesterday."
"Oh," Harry said. "That's why you were so tired and weird all through class the last two days. You almost fell asleep in History of Magic once."
He grinned. "I should have been checking you for evil diaries after that, shouldn't I?"
"Not. Funny. Potter," she said, while also suppressing a smirk. "Anyway, when I was in a panic, wanting to work out a way of checking you for mind control spells, I remembered it again. It was in the back of an old homemaker's charms book, one of those that you bought for the low-powered house guarding charms and other warding rituals."
She hesitated, then mumbled, "That particular section though was on, uh, marital aid spells."
"...what?" Harry said with growing horror.
Hermione scrambled to keep talking, as if enough words would make this less mortifying to be discussing. "Well, you do know that arranged marriages used to be, well, a thing in the magical world? Much more recently than in the mundane world. Really disturbing what that says about magical society, and-"
Harry coughed lightly, interrupting her.
"Err, right. The ritual spell..." She sighed then slumped in thought, rocking back and forth a little. "Well, let me set some context for what I'm trying to explain. Imagine this: It is 100 years ago in Magical Britain. You're a 14-year-old pure-blood girl, schooled in the magical arts at Hogwarts since age eleven." Harry's face twisted up in confusion but Hermione ignored his obvious discomfort with her thought experiment.
"I've read all about this period, you know – from, uh, from library books in my spare time," she explained quickly, starting to really get into her scatterbrained but very eagerly delivered lecture. "After I finished reading through Hogwarts, A History once,I started on British magical society's history and culture, trying to, ah expand my horizons and get to know the political lay of the land so to speak, and even though there isn't a class on it per se, I thought that- Uh, soI found that education is one very necessary bit of culturally enforced gender equality in magical Britain's upper class, both then and now. Great skill in magic is expected of all powerful pure-blood witches (and they are, by tradition, all expected to be powerful).
"So again, imagine: it is 100 years ago in Magical Britain, you're 14, and you've now just been introduced to the person you're going to marry, likely on the very day of your wedding. You couldn't hope to choose your own husband (or even whether or not to marry at all) before the coming of age in the magical world at seventeen, and even after that, exercising any personal choice could have required you eloping and being expelled from your family with no belongings or even a last name – you'd get the same for refusing to marry, even as an adult. So you're not really happy about this arranged marriage, but you're not in a position to do anything about it because of the horrible, backward, sexist medieval patriarchal society you live in, and you sort of expected something like this to happen."
Harry ran a hand over his face and tried to get a handle on his anger and disgust, which were currently barely winning out over his worry and confusion in his mind. He had vaguely known such things happened at one time, but it wasn't good that it was related to this ritual they'd both just done.
His temper hadn't gotten him in trouble yet in this timeline, though, and he planned to keep it that way. He certainly wasn't about to start taking his frustrations out on little Hermione. She was just as distressed by the whole thing as he was, if not more. And no matter how much he wanted to yell at her about using strange and powerful blood rituals from...from a sex manual, he wasn't going to start an argument over this now. One she would probably win anyway.
Dragging his attention inward for a moment, he was a little surprised when his Occlumency seemed to come to him easier this time, even though he was already starting to get rather upset. The small magics of the discipline slid over his thoughts, cushioning him against his emotions like a big pillow and steadying his mind. This was different from having to be dragged into place by a supreme force of will, as was usual. He shook his head, reluctantly trying to focus on Hermione's continuing lecture.
"-and he's most likely close to your age, possibly even still in Hogwarts himself. As most such arrangements weren't made for obscure political reasons but for joining two families, usually for pure-blood breeding reasons, he most likely won't be three times older or something, though he might already be finished with Hogwarts."
She looked disgusted herself, but continued. "Now, uh, think about your, err, your wedding night. This might, revolting as it sounds, take place here at Hogwarts itself, in one of the currently completely unused married students' quarters. I think they currently use them as storage rooms but, but that isn't relevant. For this historic example, it doesn't matter."
She waved her hands aimlessly a bit then pressed them together and shoved them back in her lap. She continued in an even greater rush, her sentences starting to run together a bit as they usually did when she was nervous. "The point is, though you haven't done accidental magic since before you went to Hogwarts, right now you are really scared and really, really unhappy and even feeling physically threatened and it is as likely now as at any point in your life that your magic will act out violently, you see – this is the perfect situation for accidental magic to happen.
"Now, maybe your new husband isn't such a bad sort, but you are being forced into this and, despite it having been a different time and culture, though disturbingly, not that distant or different, as some people alive today might still be in one of those marriages, it is still very, very close to just being rape."
Harry winced but Hermione didn't appear to notice. Finally taking a breath, she seemed to try to say something several times before continuing. "I'm...not sure if you're aware, but sexual assault is rare in the magical world. Accidental magic striking out at a rapist doesn't require the use of one, but even the poorest housewitch or manual laborer has a wand of some sort, even if it isn't an Ollivanders original creation."
She paused again, a thoughtful look passing over her face as she drifted off subject a little. "It has occurred to me that the magical world is an interesting study in gender power balance in a heavily armed society. No one has tried to disarm all witches as a group in a long, long time. A pure-blood's wife or daughter not having a wand is like suggesting that they married a Muggle or a squib, or have children who are such, making that an oddly equitable social faux pas. This brings to the magical world's treatment of woman's rights an odd mix of almost modern respect and equality and a kind of chauvinism that has been outdated for centuries. But back to my example.
"You're scared, you're magically just as powerful as your husband, and he isn't allowed to simply use spells to force you to...accommodate him, as that is both illegal – you see, despite the arranged marriage, you have to formally 'agree' to it – and though you don't have much choice, forcing you to do...that would be impractical anyway for several reasons. After all, the very next day he'll have to deal with you having a fully functioning deadly weapon."
Though she didn't notice it, the same cold look briefly passed over them both as Hermione continued, "Now your husband's family doesn't want to lose a son to 'accidentally' having his, err, genitals magically displaced three feet to the right while trying to force himself on you, an unwilling, frightened, trained witch. Nor do they want him mysteriously poisoned some time later by an undetectable agent mimicking a heart attack, say a potion magically switched into his wineglass one night.
"So some pure-blood families used to teach this ancient spell (still do for all I know). The... the ritual, borrowed from Magical India (another society with the upper classes arranging marriages), allows the couple to come to, well, an accord of sorts. It functions as an instant way of gaining real, lasting trust between two strangers. A magical way to share experiences and thoughts, to see what the other person knows and feels. A way to let him see, to force his perspective to your own, to make him face your experiences and concerns, maybe allowing you both to come to some agreement that leaves this hypothetical you feeling less violated in this horrible theoretical situation."
She paused again and licked her lips nervously, but being Hermione Granger meant you couldn't censor information from a lecture, so she stumbled ahead. "Also, uh. You were expected to...err, possibly renew the spell multiple times over the night to, to complete the, uh, act under it as well. Which is...the books...it is reported to be an...intense shared experience. Ah, that would be a sort of, uh, another reason not to, to murder the new spouse forced on you, I guess."
Hands twisted together and blushing tomato red, she rushed on to her next point. "I didn't know for sure if it would work right on us, as we're a little younger than it is mentioned being used in – the ritual that is! Not... right, uh, what I read was about older people, but we're likely the right age, as Hogwarts First Year magicals are considered okay as a lower-limit for safe magic use in general, so it made sense so long as I could power the main ritual anchor, and there are not physical effects, so... so, as I've got about the same magic levels (though not skills or spells, of course) as an average Hogwarts graduate already, I thought it would be safe...so that's what happened."
Harry stared at her in shock. Hermione was blushing fiercely and chewing her lip nervously, but she was also looking defiantly back at him, waiting for his response. He suffocated his anger at the situation deep under fluffy Occlumency pillows, ignored the numbing shock of the whole thing, and tried to think clearly.
"That's brilliant, Hermione," he finally said, always a good start (and always true). "I'd have never thought about using that spell that way, even if I'd heard of it before. How did you even find out about it, though?"
She gulped and blushed even deeper somehow. "Well, uh, some of the smaller book you grabbed weren't actually technically history or spell books. But I still found references in one that lead me to another of your spell books, once I understood the subject. Which is part of the reason I sped through Hogwarts, A History so fast, to get more context..."
Harry frowned and raised dark eyebrows in response.
"They were, well, those books I found in your trunk were," Hermione said, shrinking at his expression, "uhh...some moderately historically accurate...uh...erotica?"
Eyes wide, Harry was now blushing as deeply as she was.
"I...I'm so sorry, I had no idea those were in there!" he said in a panic. "I just choose books that sounded like they were on spells, and those must have been in with some of the others I picked up in a hurry from the ratty bargain shelves."
He winced already in anticipation of the response, but still felt he should bravely add, "Ah, so you shouldn't really be-" Hermione's scorching glance alone shut that sentence down cold.
"If you dare to try and tell me what I may and may not read," she said hotly, "after I have already, with my parents' permission I might add, finished auditing first year university anatomy and autopsy pathology classes, with full textbooks and videotaped demonstration addendum, then you are sadly mistaken Mister Potter.
"When I was 10 years old, before I knew about Hogwarts or being magical, I was starting on a very advanced and fast track indeed. I already have the beginnings of an early medical student's knowledge of the human body. This includes those parts mentioned in sloppy prose in the books which you so object to me reading."
This was all news to him. Unfortunately, through some odd quirk of musculature and random nerve firings, his mouth still opened again and attempted to form words immediately after that.
"I have also already read extensively of French Renaissance and 18th century erotic poetry," she interrupted, chin raised high, a triumphant look on her face. Her words were clipped and perfect, as if speaking to an ungrateful N.E.W.T.s level class that was already half-dozing, but the burning in her eyes was clearly not that of her Occlumentic shield personality.
Harry stared blankly at her, mouth hanging slightly open.
"In the original French, of course," she added, brow crinkling a little at his expression of pained dismay. There was an odd tickling in his mind, something he was just now noticing.
"Also with the expressed permission of my parents," she said with growing confusion and eyebrow scrunching, taking another guess at his problem. "French isn't that hard to learn!"
Harry still had a freshly-bricked look on his face but kept silent, wondering what was going on.
"The subject interested me and my parents naturally supported that!" she finally stated, folding her arms in a huff and rolling her eyes. Her blush was once again no longer under control, betraying that blasé explanation.
Harry closed his mouth with a snap. Commenting was dangerous. He also tried hard not to simply close his eyes and sigh deeply. He felt very off-balance, and it didn't entirely seem to be his feelings. But this was something he was used to from his previous timeline and Voldemort's frequent forays through his cursed scar link, the Dark Lord dancing on his very emotions with spiky boots. This seemed to be something similar. Sadly, Hermione was still talking, not apparently having noticed what was happening.
"These 20th century Magical British books were...quaint and vanilla in comparison," Hermione continued ruthlessly. "For example, they were entirely between married couples. That meaning just a man and a woman, apparently, and not even featuring a secret lover. Both variables the mundane French writers expanded on both numerically and combinatorially, on gender and marital fidelity issues. One of the features of the British magical writings on, on the subject, however was the use of this spell, and its slightly, err, romanticized side-effects."
Sighing deeply, he ground his eyeballs into their sockets with their own closed lids. Harry gripped his knees tightly, trying to block out his knowing of all that with a sudden blast of accidental magic. Which of course didn't work. It never did. He was still feeling a little angry, and also confused, embarrassed, and indignant. The last was obvious Hermione's emotion, though he wasn't sure about the others.
"Calm down," she scolded. "The topic was sex, Harry. Not violent Satanic rituals. Those books won't somehow destroy my fragile, innocent young girl-mind. Anymore than has already occurred from unrelated events. Though Magical Britain seems to class them similarly, based on where you found those books. The suggestion being they are equally evil, that is. The rituals and sex. Not my innocent young girl-mind."
"Though now that I think about it-" she said, trailing off. Her righteous bravado was starting to crack, as was her didactic technique and oratorical quality (and why was he using such big words in his head?), but she wasn't retreating into her shell as usual. Instead, she simply bulled ahead, discomfort clear but disregarded.
"Anyway, they really were quite tame books," she continued. "I'm not sure why you're so upset (though, why do I know)... And I've read far more graphic. I've seen more explicit in movies and on TV. In tabloids, for that matter. The only thing my parents really object to is extreme violence. For example, when I asked, they took me to see an experimental French romantic film without question, but they still don't like for me to watch American action movies. Too violent, they say.
"In fact, my descent into such brutish behavior, as evidenced by my reactions to both the Weasley's surprise dorm inspection and my own just completed assault on you (no Harry, there is no other word for it), would worry daddy far more than my rapid mastery of unnatural forces or the questionable temporal-dynamic nature of my best friend, who is also a boy. In my expert opinion, none of those are even close to rising to the same relative scale of worrying for him as my accidentally finding quite frankly amateurish pornography in your trunk, especially as it led directly to a way to better recover and protect myself from a magical threat against which they couldn't possibly assist me."
She smiled a pained little smile and reached out as if to pat his hand. But she ended up pulling back at the last moment, patting the blankets just in front instead. "If it matters, I believe you didn't intentionally purchase those. If for no other reason than because I doubt you've really fully physically entered puberty yet, err, atthis time, and would in any case, based on what I've read and heard about boys, have attempted to hide it and limit my access to its location. Thank you for that, by the way. The access. I do so love rare and unusual books. As I'm sure you know."
Hermione looked at Harry's red, pinched face with a bit of worry. "I can give the books back, of course."
"No, no," Harry said faintly. "All things considered, you seem better able to...explain the situation if you were found with them." Hermione looked slightly satisfied with that answer, then she frowned again.
"You aren't mad at me for something, are you?" she asked with more than a little worry in her voice. Harry very, very carefully didn't sigh again.
"Of course not," he said, looking her in the eyes with great effort. "I just...forgot what it's like, being around you being you. I could never be mad at you for that. Also, there is something...even with Occlumency..."
Hermione winced almost imperceptibly. Harry's eyes narrowed. She tilted her head slightly, looking him straight in the eyes, but hesitantly. He looked back firmly. Her eyes widened suddenly, and she sat up straighter again, almost smiling.
"So you see I'm not really mad at you. But have you been noticing...that?" Harry asked, vaguely waving between them.
"Yes."
"Seems to only work for emotional issues, though. And not very well. A weak connection, if anything."
"You obviously didn't pick up on my detailed explanation of something factual before I stated it out loud."
"So, what?" he asked with a shake of his head. "I'm feeling what you do still? Like during the ritual?"
"Similar," she said, rubbing her arm through the sleeve of her gown with one hand. "I have some ideas, but it doesn't appear to be very strong. More like a vague, floaty emotional impression. Eye contact does make it clearer."
"We should go to Madam Pomfrey if it gets worse."
"Agreed. But it might just be a side-effect that wasn't stated in the book. And many uncomfortable questions would be asked if we had to tell someone about...about this. We should wait and see what happens." They sat silently, staring into each others eyes, poking at this odd new feeling. It didn't fill that small void in Harry, but the sense of emptiness was becoming less obvious. He could faintly feel her start to settle down emotionally, maybe finally convinced that everything really was going to work out.
"So," Harry said, after they spent an odd couple of minutes that way. Hermione blinked sleepily at him, a contented smile on her face as she swayed slightly to one side.
"So," he repeated, Hermione dragged herself back from wherever she'd gone, but still looked very sleepy. "I now remember my plan to take care of our rat problem, as you know. But looking at things again, it's clear I'll need your help for it to work. If you're willing."
With sudden focus she nodded grimly. "Of course, Harry. The rat won't get away with this."
"Good. Now, I think it's time for bed. You're falling asleep sitting up."
She nodded and awkwardly leaned over to get Sal back on her arm. "Right Harry. I should...need to try to get at least a little sleep tonight."
"Time to go, sssissster," Sal hissed to the snake under the bed as he crawled up Hermione's sleeve. "Ssspeaker, another of our sssissstersss is keeping watch from jussst outssside, on the window ledge. The old ssstonesss on the tower are climbable. For usss."
Harry nodded at the black adder, who bowed in return. Stumbling to her feet, Hermione continued to babble, weighed down by her snake and listing slightly to one side. She paused while the snake under his bed crawled up her leg. "And I can't sleep here. No. Need to sleep in my own bed. Because...that's where I sleep. Not here..."
Harry watched as she shambled sleepily through the bed's curtains. Flopping back down, thoroughly exhausted mentally, he wondered if he'd get any more sleep himself. Looking up at the ceiling, he saw Hedwig still perching on a tall bedpost. It was where she'd been during the entire ritual, watching over them and the rat.
"What am I going to do now, Hedwig?" he asked softly.
His familiar blinked slowly at him, then turned her head to look around in both directions in that impossible, neck-ache-causing way owls loved.
Harry nodded. "Right. Keep my head on a swivel, eyes open. Got it. But what about Hermione?"
Hedwig barked softly and gave him a sad look, then spread her wide wings and flew off, most likely to get some more sleep herself.
"Yeah, me neither," Harry whispered to himself.
Not knowing he had been discovered, Wormtail was content over the next two weeks to sleep away most of the day and all night in Ron's cage, coming out to lazily eat snacks that Ron fed him but otherwise just lying around all the time. Harry knew this was most likely a side effect of being transformed so much. It took a lot of magic to maintain, and living like a rat wasn't a healthy thing for a human to do for that long. Most likely sleeping all the time was the only way he could keep up the Animagus transformation. It was certainly safer, and that was what he knew was the primary motivation behind Pettigrew's cowardly actions.
Tucked away in their improved and massively enchanted pillow fort in a corner of the common room behind a sofa, Harry and Hermione had been discussing their new security threats and the magical world's current political situation.
"I still can't believe that idiot could break into the girls dorm," Hermione said, shaking her head in disgust. "A correctly done Obliviate and I might never have been the wiser. The Confundus Charm he apparently used was really weak as well. It didn't take me long to figure it out with Sal's help, and I noticed it broke immediately when you remembered him. Which makes sense, if the Imperius really doesn't work on you. But I likely would never have checked myself for missing memories if he'd used a stronger curse."
"He's a coward, Hermione," Harry reminded her, "and he didn't want to do more than he had to. Using Confundus Charms on Ron's friends and family meant minimal risk. Compared to that, the memory charms he used to cover that up were much harder to cast and significantly more complex, but it was still very straight forward to use. Perhaps it was a specialty of his, as horrible as that sounds.
"I'd guess he was using that combination on the entire Weasley family for years, though, as Obliviating magical children is even more complicated than with magical adults, especially repeatedly. A single misstep and he'd have been found out by sending a Weasley kid or someone else in Gryffindor to St. Mungo's with mental spell damage."
Hermione looked very thoughtful (even for her). "Do you think maybe he was concerned about hurting someone?" she asked slowly.
"Well Hermione, he is a murderer, a pure-blood supremacist, and a marked Death Eater. But he's also afraid of conflict and the consequences of his actions. He's not some Dark magic obsessed maniac and he doesn't like to do anything drastic unless he's absolutely cornered. So maybe he didn't really care about the mundanes on the street he killed while escaping from Sirius in a panic, but maybe he actually does have moral objections to doing something that might risk hurting even a mundane-born unnecessarily."
"Well, it doesn't really matter," she added, shuffling her papers back together. "We'll work out a way to get him put away forever."
Hermione ran a simple locator charm again, finding it still pointed in the direction of the cage up in Ron's room. "But I do think we should take care of the traitor sooner rather than later. The rat messed with my mind and I still have trouble sleeping at night in the dorms, knowing he was creeping around there."
She was poking the back of one of the chairs forming a wall in their Wednesday night blanket fort. Everyone was allowed to stay up late that night, because a curfew two or three hours earlier was basically pointless and would be ignored by most of the students anyway.
"You've got Sal looking out for you now," Harry reminded her. "He won't let anything happen, nor will the others. And I've got one of the snakes lurking near my dorm every night."
Hermione nodded but she was still obviously upset.
"We need to wait," he said once again. "We need to set the stage for the political side of getting my godfather freed before trying to introduce new evidence in his case by exposing Pettigrew. Getting the DMLE head Madam Bones and also Minister Fudge at least neutral toward the idea first is critical unless we want to risk Fudge just disappearing him as an embarrassing problem."
"I know, I know. I just...it's really creepy." A shiver went her entire body. "And seeing him crawling around on Ronald Weasley all the time. Ugh. I'm just thankful you got the rest of your roommates to agree the rat needed to stay in his cage at night and during meals, at least. I'm not sure how you can stand it, being in the same room as that...that animal, especially while you sleep."
Harry sighed. "I'd crawl through broken glass naked if I thought it would save Sirius. I'm going to do this right. Sirius will be a free man and Wormtail will be dead or in prison. I can't let anything jeopardize that. My biggest worry is the rat smelling something's wrong and bolting, but it looks like he's taking advantage of his new, mostly-caged status to avoid both the snakes and our attention. He hasn't tried charming us again, so maybe he thinks reduced contact means he doesn't need to recast his memory spells."
"As long as we don't do anything suspicious he shouldn't suspect anything. We're just little kids, after all. Sal will make sure the snakes don't spook him. They aren't as, well, responsible as he is but they'll listen to him."
"Good. Now we just need to use Fudge's desire for popularity to our advantage, maybe along with my fame. Assuming I can keep the magical world from hating me for a few more months."
"You should start talking to some of the other students soon, including the ones in other Houses," she said. "Expanding our study group will be a good excuse to expand your contacts. I'll focus on laying the groundwork for the political side. I've started working on a list of people in the Wizengamot and Ministry, those who'll need to be swayed to our side. As you originally planned, my first push will be commenting favorably on Fudge's less contentious and stupid policies through a series of letters to the editor, owl posted anonymously from Hogwarts to the Daily Prophet. I've got a subscription and have started reading it every day."
She rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. "That paper is so vapid and empty of substance that letters from 'A Hogwarts Student' will definitely draw their attention, especially when people assume it is from a bright and ambitious pure-blood Seventh Year Slytherin student, not a mundane-born First Year. Most people aren't heavily involved in politics in the magical world, so some ambitious student getting national attention should also draw Fudge's. The rest of the list, at least those without relatives at Hogwarts, will be harder to contact. But that's your job, Mister Famous."
"I think Amelia Bones is already at least neutral to our position and has a niece in our year, Hufflepuff if I remember correctly," Harry said, grinning at her teasing. "She might be the first one to work on. Madam Bones is Head of DMLE and isn't going to be happy about a man imprisoned without a fair and lawful trial, something Sirius never received in the first place. She should be on our side by default no matter how we bring up Sirius' case, at least as long as it doesn't look like she's being pressured politically too much. She shouldn't fight us on a trial otherwise."
"That still leaves that idiot Fudge's Death Eater financial supporters to worry about. Bones is a pure-blood, but not an obvious bigot."
"Yeah, she's okay and Fudge isn't actually one of the really bad blood bigots. He only gets paid by them."
"Strange, isn't it?" she commented wryly. "Based on what I've read, he should have been Dumbledore's greatest ally in the government, fighting against Voldemort and for mundane and mundane-born rights. Not sure where things went wrong in your...situation. According to back issues of the Prophet, which I found magically scanned and stored in the Hogwarts library under a most interesting archive cube, sort of like Muggle microfiche, which displayed the images of the paper, moving magical pictures and all, using what appeared to be- uh, anyway, his campaign slogan when he first ran for Minister was 'A Fair Deal for Wizards Who Deal Fair with Muggles,' which is-"
"Really sexist," Harry interrupted, "but on the right track."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and harrumphed, but didn't disagree. "Anyway," she continued, glaring at him for the interruption, "first, we show public support for Fudge's policies through these letters. Then, when the situation with Sirius' trial, or rather the lack thereof, becomes public, hopefully along with Pettigrew's capture, we can use your fame, student contacts with important parents, and the secret letter writer's public popularity to support an honest and open trial for your godfather and the rat."
"The Minister has a history with scandals working in his favor," Harry said. "Fudge would have lost to Bartemius Crouch Senior, but then the whole thing with his son being convicted of being a Death Eater happened. Fudge will be careful about anything relating to questionable justice for Death Eaters because of that. He won't want to look weak."
"Which brings up another point, Harry. While I certainly don't agree with the implicit and continuing torture of sentencing someone to Azkaban, obviously cruel and unusual punishment, the entire situation with Crouch's son needs to be resolved at some point. We have an obligation to expose Barty Crouch Junior's current location to law enforcement before he escapes from his father's control again. Since we have secret knowledge of what really happened, we also have a moral responsibility in this situation."
Hermione tapped her finger on her chin, thinking over their options. "Maybe if we can also work out a way to expose that little situation and point out to the Minister how he can use it to politically make up for Sirius' situation, it will grease the wheels of justice. It helps that Sirius' lack of a proper trial happened during Milicent Bagnold's tenure as Minister. And that this was also while Crouch Senior was Head of DMLE. That should help the Ministry blame him for the whole thing, while also prosecuting him for breaking his son out of Azkaban and hiding him in his house."
"That's a good idea, too," Harry said, nodding. "Last time, it looked like Fudge was mostly afraid of being seen as weak if the feared 'criminal' and Death Eater Sirius Black had not only been allowed to escape on his watch, but was also found to be completely innocent after an expensive manhunt. We still can't allow Fudge a chance to cover things up, though, so it will have to seem to be in his best interest from the very start. If we time things right, the popularity of the published letters supporting Fudge's policies that seem to be from a pure-blood student at Hogwarts will reach their peak popularity just when we get a chance to expose Crouch's son, his father's involvement in Sirius' lack of a trial, and the capture of the secret Death Eater, Peter Pettigrew."
"I'll be sending off the first letter to the paper tomorrow," Hermione said with a grin. "Monday, the Prophet had an article about Fudge's plan to increase funding for the DMLE, the stated cause is to help in investigating incidents of 'Muggle-baiting.' Lucius Malfoy doesn't have him entirely in his pocket yet, so Fudge still has a moderate public stance on the issue. But the way things are now, I think his funding bill will be defeated in the Wizengamot by blood bigots, older neutral pure-bloods, and the economic conservatives, even though Fudge's supporters and Dumbledore's faction are backing it. Many pure-bloods don't think 'Muggle-baiting' is an important issue. Because of cutbacks, there simply isn't the money in the budget right now to carry out proper investigations, ones that clearly show the true horror of the situation, but that isn't something most consider a vital funding area right now.
"Which means I'll get lots of attention by suggesting in my letter something very controversial, almost guaranteeing that it'll be published: that this funding bill's language is a good first step but doesn't go far enough. I'll propose additional increases in funding for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department and that some new DMLE funds be earmarked specifically for the Aurors."
"But won't that make things worse for him in getting support for his bill?" Harry said, confused.
"Perhaps, but the bill is secondary to our plans. Though this does bring other issues to the front, which might help him forge a revised bill using new approaches to gain support. Like how long it has been since the Auror department of the DMLE was properly funded. It lost a lot of political support after the war was over, its departmental budget gutted. People didn't see the need to fund dark lord fighting so heavily after The Dark Lord was apparently dead. The DMLE in general then suffered when Crouch was kicked out in disgrace over his son, and Madam Bones is only just starting to get it back into shape. She could really use the money."
"Okay, but why would pure-bloods want to fund the Aurors, let alone the DMLE?"
"Most pure-bloods aren't Death Eater supporters, Harry. As a group, they are actually strong on justice and law enforcement issues, according to the publicly printed open Wizengamot session voting records in the library. So in my rather lengthy letter, I'll suggest violent and potentially injurious attacks on 'Muggles' – though I hate to use that term, you know I prefer 'mundanes', and thank you for remember to use it yourself – anyway, I'll suggest those attacks should automatically be classified as assault, which they currently are not, and that they be assigned to the Auror department, who'll work closely with Misuse on cases where enchanted or charmed Muggle items are involved. The public relations framing will be calling those who perform such acts 'dangerous, low-class hooligans and thugs' and 'budding Dark wizards and witches.' And to make the budgetary bean counters happy, I'll also point out that increasing fines on those caught assaulting 'Muggles' would help pay for the previously mentioned increased law enforcement funding, along with a small increase in luxury taxes on the sale of expensive enchanted items, some of which are mundane artifacts used in those very assaults.
"The 'ex' Death Eaters, newly rich and powerful after the war and horrible bigots every one, won't support it anyway, so their voting block doesn't need to be convinced. The law enforcement angle will make it hard to argue against the idea, and that should keep the neutral rich pure-bloods from openly contesting it because of the tax increases, which are there to make the budget obsessed members happier. As it was raised by a third party, it won't look like Fudge and Dumbledore ramming something through even if they later officially author the bill. This will help the revised bill gain more support. Regardless of what happens, my letter writing campaign will gain popularity. And if the suggestions work, many of Riddle's old supporters will find it harder to assault mundanes, like...like my parents, and other innocents. It'll also shine more light on the sale of powerful magical items, many of which are dangerous and Dark and imported from overseas."
"Thanks again for the help, Hermione," Harry said with a wide smile. "I'm horrible at this political stuff but you're a natural."
Hermione blushed at the compliment and poked at the fringe of the carpet. "I talked to Neville and Ron about most of it and helped them write letters to their parents and guardian to get more information on the current political situation, including things that don't make it into the papers. So those aren't really my ideas. Neville asked his Gran (who is on the Wizengamot) about some of the details of the current political landscape there, and Ron's dad Arthur is in the Ministry, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department in fact, and he has his ear to the ground about some of the interdepartmental gossip. Most of those ideas are ones some Wizengamot members and Madam Bones herself have been in favor of for years it seems, but they have political opponents who would jump on the chance to oppose any measures appearing to come directly from them.
"As a side benefit, the adults think their kids are showing a greater interest in their jobs and political matters in general. I've managed to keep my name out of it so far. And I do think both Ron and Neville are, in fact, taking a greater interested, as I usually discuss my ideas with them in, err, great details. So it is good for them too. But really, it is all the adults' ideas and yours."
"But you're the one who put everything together. If you're able to do this from Hogwarts by writing a few letters, think of what you could accomplish with a real political position."
"I doubt I could ever get into the Ministry, Harry, let alone on the Wizengamot," she said with a frown. "One is very biased against mundane-born and the other is nearly entirely unelected hereditary seats, mostly consisting of very old wizards."
Harry grinned and shook his head. "I know you, Hermione. With Voldemort and his Death Eaters out of the way, you'll be able to get around those issues. The Wizengamot has a hereditary Potter seat waiting for me when I turn twenty-one, so I've got that part covered. And there's no law stopping you from being a department head or even Minister for Magic. You'd be a better one than Fudge now, and you haven't even graduated yet."
She blushed and looked about to disagree, but he continued. "So we take down Voldemort together, use your fame as 'A Hogwarts Student' and co-defeater of Voldemort to get you into a high position, and then we'll start working on reforming society together from the inside out, dragging Magical Britain into the modern world. Those old wizards won't know what hit them."