"He shouldn't have come with us." Hermione murmured, almost to herself, as the platform and Padfoot faded from view.
"Oh, lighten up!" Ron told her cheerfully. "He hasn't seen daylight in months, poor bloke!"
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Fred cut her off with a warning look. "Well, can't stand around chatting all day – we've got business to discuss with Lee."
Hermione caught his arm before he could leave. "Just remember what I suggested about the girls."
"Will do." Fred assured her with a wink; she released him, and the twins left.
The train rounded a corner, the carriage shaking with the movement, and Hermione stumbled, falling into Harry, who steadied her. "Sorry." She muttered straightening up.
Ginny narrowed her eyes at her friend – she hadn't missed the faint blush that had stained Hermione's cheeks when Harry caught her.
"Don't worry about it." Harry said. "Shall we go and find a seat then?"
Sufficiently distracted from what might or might not have been running through Hermione's mind at that moment, Ginny winced. "Er, Harry? The prefects have a meeting, remember?"
"Oh yeah." Harry said with a chuckle. "Forgot about that. Do you want us to take your trunks for you?"
Hermione, who had been watching Harry apprehensively, and had clearly been expecting an awkward conversation, sighed in relief. "Yes please, Harry. Hang on." She pulled her wand and cast a Shrinking Charm on her and Ron's trunks, before handing Crookshanks to Ginny.
Ginny scooped up the now pebble-sized trunks and put them in her pocket. "I'll take Pig as well, Ron. Harry's got Hedwig to juggle."
Ron handed Pig's cage over, and the two new prefects hurried away.
"Well," Ginny said, hoisting Crookshanks' basket under her arm, "we'd better start looking or we'll never find a seat."
"Right." Harry agreed, and they began to struggle down the corridors, Ginny dimly wishing that she'd asked Hermione to Shrink their trunks as well, because she didn't know the spell, and she doubted Harry did either.
After a few minutes, as they passed a particularly lively compartment, Harry sighed heavily. "I just realised that these people spent most of the summer reading about how I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat." He said glumly.
"Ignore them." Ginny said, giving a particularly vicious glare to two sixth years who edged past them, muttering to each other. "They don't matter. You know the truth, and we know the truth."
Harry gave her a smile that would have made her swoon a year ago. "Thanks, sis."
In the very last carriage, they came across Neville Longbottom, sweating with the effort of dragging his trunk, and desperately clinging to his toad, Trevor, who seemed intent on making yet another bid for freedom.
"Hi Harry, hi Ginny!" He panted. "Everywhere's full; I can't find a seat."
Ginny peered into the compartment beside them. Contrary to Neville's words, it was empty except for a girl her age with long blonde hair, buried behind a copy of The Quibbler. "What are you talking about? There's room in this one – there's only Luna Lovegood in here."
Neville rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't want to disturb anyone …" he muttered.
"Don't be silly!" Ginny laughed, although she could understand his hesitance – Luna was certainly unique, and could be rather … difficult to handle if you weren't used to her. "She's alright." She slid the door open, and dragged her trunk in. "Hi, Luna. Okay if we sit here?"
Luna's pale blue eyes peered over the top of her magazine – which was upside down – and she glanced at Harry and Neville, before nodding.
"Thanks." Ginny levitated her trunk into the luggage rack, and pulled out her wand and the pebble-sized trunks from her pocket. "Finite Incantatem."
The trunks returned to their original size, and she levitated them up above them as well, before stowing Pig next to them.
By now, Harry and Neville's trunks were in the other luggage rack, beside Luna's, and Ginny sat down opposite her, a little out of breath. She undid the straps of Crookshanks' basket, and the fluffy ginger feline leapt out onto her lap, purring.
"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked cheerfully.
"Yes." Luna answered dreamily, her eyes still fixed on Harry over her magazine. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter."
"Yes, I know I am." Harry responded, sounding mystified, which caused Neville to snigger quietly.
Luna turned to him. "And I don't know who you are."
"I'm nobody." Neville said hurriedly.
"No, you're not!" Ginny argued, scowling. "Neville Longbottom – Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year," she added, seeing Harry look confused as well. "But she's in Ravenclaw."
"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." Luna quoted in a sing-song voice. She disappeared behind the magazine again, and Ginny covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing out loud at Harry and Neville's faces.
Neville stared at the magazine for a moment, before turning to Harry and changing the subject. "Guess what I got for my birthday."
Harry shrugged. "Another Remembrall?"
"No." Neville said, then paused. "I could do with one though; I lost the old one ages ago. No, look at this!" With the hand that wasn't clutching Trevor, he dug around in his bag for a few minutes, before withdrawing some kind of lumpy grey cactus. "Mimbulus Mimbletonia." He said proudly, as though they were expected to know exactly what that was and be incredibly impressed by it.
Ginny stared at it. She was sure she'd heard that name in Herbology, but it didn't look like any plant she'd seen in the greenhouses – if anything, it looked like some bizarre, pulsating, diseased organ.
Neville beamed at them, clearly not put off by their lack of excitement. "It's really, really rare. I don't even know if there's one in the greenhouses at Hogwarts – I can't wait to show Professor Sprout! Great-Uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria; I'm going to see if I can breed from it."
"Does it … er … do anything?" Harry asked tentatively.
It seemed like a bizarre question to ask about a plant, but Neville's excitement – even for a rare breed – was a little over the top if it didn't.
Sure enough, he nodded eagerly. "Loads of stuff! It's got an amazing defence mechanism – watch …" Neville dumped Trevor in Harry's lap, and pulled out a quill.
Harry and Ginny exchanged a concerned glance, and he handed Trevor to her, inching closer as he did. Even Luna lowered her magazine to watch what was about to happen.
Carefully and with precision, Neville lifted the Mimbulus Mimbletonia up in front of his face and prodded it with the end of his quill.
As though it had exploded, liquid squirted from every pulsing boil, thick, stinking, dark green jets of it, coating the compartment.
Thankfully, with the unerring reflexes of a Seeker, Harry had pulled Ginny into his side and covered them with his cloak, which was a relief, as the liquid smelled like rancid manure.
"Sorry!" Neville gasped, shaking the worst of it out of his eyes. "I hadn't tried that before – didn't expect it to be quite so … It's alright, though! Stinksap's not poisonous."
"No, it just stinks." Ginny muttered, as Harry lowered his now drenched cloak.
At that moment, the door slid open, and they looked up to see Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, standing in the doorway. "Oh, hello, Harry. Um … bad time?"
Ginny winced. She knew that Harry had a crush on the girl (at least, she knew that he thought he did), and she could sort of understand why. Cho was a pretty girl, just starting her sixth year – but she had also been Cedric's girlfriend.
To Harry, Ginny knew, Cho would sound nervous, maybe a little embarrassed. Ginny, however, could see the slight narrowing of the older girl's eyes as she looked at them, and the calculation in her expression.
Why, you … Cedric died in June, you conniving bitch! Ginny closed her eyes, taking a deep steady breath, forcing herself to stop looking at the situation like an overprotective sister. Calm down, Ginny. Maybe you're wrong. Maybe she really does like him and Cedric just got there first last year.
"Oh … hi." Harry said blankly.
"Um … well … just thought I'd say hello …" Cho blushed, although Ginny was sure it was fake. "Bye then …"
"I didn't know people could blush on cue." Luna said dreamily as the door closed again, just loud enough for Ginny to hear.
Harry dropped his head into his hands and groaned, and Ginny choked back her laugh. "Never mind." She said soothingly, drawing her wand. "Scourgify!"
"Sorry." Neville repeated morosely, as the disgusting liquid vanished.
It was over an hour before Ron and Hermione returned, and the food trolley had been and gone. Ginny had sandwiches, but she knew that her mother would have packed corned beef again for Ron – which none of her children liked, let alone Ron – so she bought a few pumpkin pasties and held them back.
When the prefects finally arrived, Luna was still buried in her magazine, and Ginny, Harry and Neville were swapping chocolate frog cards.
"I'm starving!" Ron announced, gratefully taking the offered pasties and throwing himself into the seat beside Harry. He took a bite and leaned back, closing his eyes, as though he'd had a very trying morning.
"Something happen?" Harry asked, glancing up.
"Well, there are two prefects from each house." Hermione said, looking as though she wasn't sure whether to be amused or disgruntled. "Boy and girl from each, as you know."
"And guess who the Slytherin prefect is." Ron added darkly.
"Malfoy." Harry said immediately.
"That won't be too bad." Ginny commented, regretting it almost immediately.
"Are you mad?!" Ron demanded, jerking upright.
Ginny sighed, and tilted her head slightly towards Hermione. She wasn't about to remind Ron of Hermione's thoughts on the matter around Neville and Luna, but her empathy had to count for something. "I know he's a complete arsehole when the other Slytherins are around, but …"
Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "And when have you ever been around him alone?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "If you must know, Ron, my bag split at the end of last term, he was the only other person in the corridor, and he helped me gather everything up. And, before you ask, nothing was missing, added, or hexed, and the whole thing happened without any insults." She was wasting her time, she knew – she wasn't going to get anywhere. "Besides, he's better than Crabbe or Goyle. Or Theodore Nott – he gives me the creeps." She turned to Hermione. "Who's the other Slytherin prefect?"
"That complete cow, Pansy Parkinson." Hermione spat, with uncharacteristic cattiness. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll …"
Ginny caught her eye and flicked her gaze towards Ron for a second. Hermione's scowl fell, and she giggled.
"Hufflepuff?" Harry asked, grinning slightly. Apparently, he'd caught the byplay, even if Ron was still oblivious.
"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott." Ron answered through a pasty.
"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil are the Ravenclaw prefects." Hermione finished, swatting Ron's arm in response to his eating habits.
"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil." Luna remarked, her gaze fixed on Ron.
"Yeah, I know I did." Ron responded, looking bewildered.
"She didn't enjoy it very much." Luna informed him matter-of-factly. "She doesn't think you treated her very well because you wouldn't dance with her. I don't think I'd have minded." She added thoughtfully. "I don't really like dancing very much."
Ron stared at The Quibbler for a few seconds after she disappeared behind it again, before turning to Ginny expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
Ginny, however, avoided his eyes and stifled a giggle – it was just too difficult to explain. "That's Luna Lovegood." She said to Hermione in an undertone. "She's a Ravenclaw in our year, lives near The Burrow. Her father's the editor of The Quibbler."
Hermione snorted, but didn't say anything.
Ginny didn't blame her – The Quibbler was famous for its eccentric articles – one only had to look at the article about Sirius in early August, claiming that he was really Stubby Boardman of the Hobgoblins and couldn't possibly be a mass-murderer, because he'd been indulging in a romantic candlelit dinner at the time.
Ginny still hadn't figured out if the woman in question was actually convinced they were one and the same person, or if she was just mad – after all, who had a candlelit dinner at eleven o'clock in the morning (which was when the murders had taken place)?
She and Luna had known each other for years, but had only really become friends in second year, because neither had friends after their first – Ginny because of the diary, and Luna because she was just so odd, as the others had undoubtedly realised by now.
Luna was in Ravenclaw for a reason – she was highly intelligent – and people seemed to think that meant that she shouldn't believe many of her father's outrageous theories.
But Luna was open-minded – while most people waited for evidence to prove that something was true, she tended to ask for evidence to prove that it was not, and it was a mind-set that Ginny often envied.
Despite the constant bullying she encountered, Luna was always upbeat and smiling, and she didn't care what anyone thought of her, as was evidenced by her rather blunt comments – although Luna had once confided in Ginny that she also found people's reactions to these comments quite amusing to watch, and the redhead was willing to bet that, behind the magazine, Luna was sniggering to herself.
Ron shook his head, apparently giving up on understanding what just happened. "We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often." He told them. "And we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe or Goyle for something …"
As Hermione began to lecture Ron about use of the badge and abuse of power, Ginny tuned her out and turned instead to the window, watching the British countryside speed by, thinking ahead to the upcoming welcoming feast. I wonder who the DADA teacher is this year … can't be worse than a Death Eater, I suppose …
Once the train was out of sight, the parents and families of students began disapparating or heading back for the barrier.
Tonks and Moody said their goodbyes and disapparated, and Molly and Arthur did the same – Arthur to the Ministry, Molly back to The Burrow now the children were back at Hogwarts.
Remus, Jen and Padfoot, however, left the station via the main entrance, and began walking back.
At the end of the road, Jen checked her watch. "I'd better go and meet Cissy."
"I thought you weren't meeting her until midday." Remus said. "You've got forty-five minutes yet."
"I'm not, but Cissy tends to be early, and I'd prefer to be the one waiting for her." Jen admitted. "I still have no idea how this is going to play out. Besides, I'll walk." She reached down to scratch Padfoot's head. "Keep the charm on and take him home – the long way, so he gets a bit of fresh air – just don't let him do anything stupid."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "I am one man."
Padfoot barked, sounding insulted.
Jen rolled her eyes, kissed Remus goodbye, and they parted, Jen going right, Remus going left. Half an hour later, Jen turned into Charing Cross Road, where she stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron.
Not five minutes after that, the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened and Narcissa stepped out. Much to Jen's surprise, she was wearing a Muggle dress, rather than robes.
"Cousin." Narcissa greeted coolly. "You wished to speak with me."
"I did." Jen responded in the same tone, taking her arm and guiding her down the street. "Might I suggest somewhere a little more private?"
They side-stepped into an alleyway a few shops down from the Leaky Cauldron, Narcissa shifted her hand to grip Jen's arm, and Jen turned sharply on the spot.
With a soft crack, they had vanished.
They reappeared in another alleyway, roughly two hundred miles away. This routine was familiar – Narcissa could never be sure that Lucius would not have her followed and, since no one could track apparition and Jen was the only one who knew where they were going, it was just an extra layer of privacy.
Here in the Muggle world, where no one would recognise them, the masks were dropped, and the two cousins embraced warmly, Narcissa as fair as Jen was dark.
At first glance, it was difficult to believe that Narcissa was a Black, there were only a few who had been born with blonde hair – James's mother, Emily, for one, and, though she rarely used her natural form, Nymphadora Tonks for another – and neither had been as fair as Narcissa.
But the clue was in their faces: Jen and Narcissa had – as did every other Black – stormy grey eyes and highly defined facial features that left them both with a kind of aristocratic beauty.
"Oh, Jen, I was so worried!" Narcissa confessed, as she released her. "We had no idea what had happened to you – the Dark Lord ordered that you were to be left to him, so I didn't think it was a Death Eater who had … not that I would have put it past Bella, but not even she's …"
"I'm fine, Cissy." Jen interrupted soothingly. She couldn't help being taken aback though – there was no love lost between her and Bellatrix, and she was glad the woman was in Azkaban, but did Bella really hate her enough to go against the Dark Lord's wishes just to murder her? "Just a Memory Charm, that's all. Very well-placed, as I said, but, in essence, harmless."
"Who?" Narcissa asked.
Jen grimaced. "Maybe we'd better find somewhere for lunch and discuss this there. I seem to recall a rather nice café round the corner."
Jen's memory served her correctly – the café hadn't changed hands since she and Lily had last been in the area.
The two women ordered, and once their food had arrived, Jen discretely put up a Wandless Privacy Charm to allow them to talk. "So, before I catch up on the gossip, is there anything you need to talk to Lady Black about?"
"Actually, there is." Narcissa set down her fork very deliberately, and took a deep breath. "I need your help."
"With?" Jen prompted.
"Draco." Narcissa whispered. She met Jen's eyes openly, not bothering to hide the fear in them. "I convinced Lucius to keep him from taking the Mark this summer, but it won't work next year – I don't want my son to get caught up in that, Jen, I don't!"
Jen reached across the table and squeezed her hand, before handing her a hanky. "Well, that makes it easier."
"Makes what easier?" Narcissa asked, dabbing at her eyes.
Jen smiled brightly. "Telling you that I'm planning on kidnapping your son next summer. I always forget how good the food is here."
"Jen …" Narcissa sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. "Where are you planning on taking him?"
"You'll know it when I know it." Jen told her. "At the moment, I'm still planning, and I don't want to rush it. Now I have a question to ask you."
"I can't." Narcissa whispered. "I appreciate that you want to help, Jen, but I chose my path a long time ago."
Jen smiled sadly. "I know, Cissy. I don't agree with it, but I know that your sense of duty won't allow you to take that option. I respect that for now …"
"For now?" Narcissa repeated sharply.
Jen sighed. "Cissy, there's going to be another war. Hell, we're in another war. You've got no say over what happens in that house, and when we win …"
"Of course." Narcissa said with a nod. "When that happens, I will gladly accept your help. But right now, don't you think it's a good idea if you lie low?"
Jen frowned, but she knew Narcissa was right. Taking action now would only succeed in drawing attention from the three places she wanted to keep in the dark for as long as possible – Voldemort, the Ministry, and Dumbledore.
Hating the feeling of helplessness that rose up in her, Jen hastily changed the subject. "I do still have a question to ask though, Narcissa. You were the one who told me that James and Lily were in danger. Do you know why?"
Narcissa sighed. "There's a prophecy." She said quietly. "It was made during the summer after you graduated, by the woman who now holds the Divination post at Hogwarts."
"Professor Trelawney?" Jen asked, remembering Harry's stories.
"The very same." Narcissa confirmed. "I believe it was heard by Professor Dumbledore, but they were overheard by a Death Eater – although I do not know who," she added.
"So Voldemort knows the prophecy?" Jen asked, her heart sinking.
"Not all of it." Narcissa assured her. "The Death Eater only heard the first part, before he was discovered and thrown out."
"Do you know the first part?" Jen asked.
"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies …'" Narcissa repeated.
Jen took a sip of tea, thinking it through. "There weren't many people who defied him three times." She said slowly. "But Frank, Alice, James and Lily all did. Neville was born July 30th and Harry was born July 31st. As the seventh month died."
"The Dark Lord wants to know the rest of the prophecy." Narcissa confided in her. "He believes there's something else, which is why he's reluctant to go after Potter again until he knows."
Which is why we're guarding the Department of Mysteries, Jen thought, taking care to keep the words private for now. It could also explain why Dumbledore wanted me out of the way. He seems to be mapping Harry's life out for him. Maybe he did the same with the war – heard the prophecy and assumed, or knew, that Harry had to finish Voldemort off. But I came pretty close a few times – I had to disappear for the Greater Good.
"Jen?" Narcissa prompted. "Are you alright?"
Jen managed a small smile. "Just fine, Cissy. Wool-gathering. Now … tell me what I've missed."
The rest of lunch passed with no more mention of the war, as Narcissa cheerfully filled Jen in on everything that had happened since she disappeared, including Mrs Black's rather entertaining reaction to Sirius's arrest (Jen made sure she remembered every word so she could relay it to her brother later).
An hour and a half later, Jen and Narcissa stepped back out of the alleyway down the road from the Leaky Cauldron, and returned to the pub.
They embraced once more at the fireplace – although this was much cooler than the first – and Narcissa dipped a small curtsey, before taking a pinch of floo powder, and disappearing into the flames.
Jen was just about to leave herself, when she spotted red hair at a table by the window. Percy Weasley apparently didn't stop working for lunch – he was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment in between bites.
Jen wandered over to the bar. "Afternoon, Tom. Cup of tea please?"
"Certainly." Tom said cheerfully. "Everything alright?"
"Everything's fine." Jen responded brightly. "And yourself?"
"Can't complain." Tom said, fetching some milk. "My niece went back to Hogwarts today – she's a prefect."
"Oh congratulations." Jen closed her eyes, thinking hard. "That would be … Hannah, wouldn't it?"
"It would." Tom confirmed, handing her the cup. "Little bit of milk, no sugar, correct?"
"I haven't been in here in fourteen years." Jen chuckled. "Your memory astounds me." She handed him the money, and carried the cup over to the window. "Excuse me. Do you mind?"
Percy moved his parchment without looking up. "Of course not."
"Thank you." Jen sat down, smoothing down her skirt. "You're Percy, aren't you?"
Now Percy looked up. "Oh, Lady Black – I apologise, I wasn't …"
"Oh, don't worry." Jen said, waving off his stutters. "And, please, call me Jen. I never was one for airs and graces. Besides, we are family."
"Are we?" Percy asked, sounding surprised.
Jen nodded. "Your paternal grandmother was my mother's cousin," she told him, "which makes me sound old, but never mind."
"Let's cut to the chase." Percy said, looking down at his work again. "You were with my father when you brought Potter for his hearing. You're going to tell me that You-Know-Who's back and that I did a horrible thing by leaving my family, aren't you?"
Jen leaned back in her chair, setting up a Privacy Charm with a flick of her hand. "Nope."
Percy stared at her for a few seconds. Then he set his work aside, finally giving her his full attention. "You're not?"
"You decided that you didn't agree with your parents and decided to leave home because of it." Jen summarised. "It would make me a hypocrite to condemn you for doing exactly what I did."
"Weren't your parents blood purists?" Percy asked tentatively.
Jen nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's the part I start having trouble with it. Because I didn't have a choice. They would have killed me for not agreeing with them. Your parents, on the other hand, would have agreed to disagree. But that's not why you left, is it?"
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Why would you say that?"
"Oh, a little observation over the last month or so." Jen answered casually. "A few stories from Harry. An unbiased observer telling me what happened the night you left home. The way I see it," she continued, talking more to the window than to Percy, "is you're quite unlucky. Because Bill and Charlie had each other. They were, what, ten and eight when you were born? So you were all on your own, and if the twins had been one child, you'd probably have been okay, but they were twins. And they had each other. And then Ron and Ginny were born close together. So where did you fit?"
Percy didn't answer, but he made no move to stop her either, so she continued.
"Then you get to Hogwarts. And it's already hard, isn't it? Because Bill was Head Boy, and Charlie was Quidditch Captain, and you've got to live up to them, because maybe then you'll get the attention. Because I bet it wasn't easy – the twins were always playing up, so they got attention, and Ron was their favourite target, so he got attention, and, of course, Ginny was the only girl."
"I tried to be perfect." Percy murmured, almost to himself. "That's what Mum wanted, but … then she started comparing them to me, and they started to resent me for it."
"Of course they did." Jen said sympathetically. "You can hardly blame them for that, because you did exactly what Bill did – you got prefect, you got Head Boy – but Bill was a curse-breaker by then, so in their eyes, he was 'cool'."
"Unlike me." Percy muttered bitterly.
"And then you graduated, and you got a job in International Magical Co-Operation." Jen went on. "And a very impressive job it was too, for someone who'd only just graduated. But they didn't understand that, did they? For Ron and Ginny, it didn't make sense after hearing Bill and Charlie's stories of their work, and the twins … Well, they'd go mad in a desk job – it didn't occur to them that you might have different interests."
"I just wanted them to be proud of me." Percy said, scowling. "You'd think they could at least manage that, but oh no, we can't do that, can we?"
Jen looked sadly across the table at him. "And then the mess with Mr Crouch. Should you have known something was wrong? Maybe. But then you weren't the only person in that department – who would expect an eighteen year old, just out of Hogwarts, to recognise an Imperius Curse?"
"Exactly!" Percy agreed. "I was doing as I was told! I did question a few people about his illness, but they all insisted it was alright!"
"And then you get a job in the Minister's office." Jen finished, smiling slightly. "Congratulations, by the way – that is really impressive for someone only a year out of Hogwarts."
Percy beamed at her. "Thank you!" His face fell. "Mum and Dad didn't think like that though."
"I know." Jen said softly, reaching across the table to pat his hand. "They didn't even consider that it might have been on your own merits. I mean, I can understand some of their concerns, but I can't see the Minister putting someone in a position like that just to spy on Dumbledore – it doesn't make sense."
Percy suddenly looked wary. "What do you mean – you can understand some of their concerns?"
Jen grimaced. "Percy, I think you got that job because you had the talent and the skills to do it. And I think your parents know that as well. But even you have to admit that the Minister might – might – take advantage of the situation to keep an eye on your family."
Percy sighed. "I know. I know Dad's worries, I do. What really made me angry was that … I don't believe You-Know-Who's back – I don't believe the Minister would lie about something like that. But that doesn't mean I'd betray my family. If the Minister does ask that of me, I will refuse. He can't fire me for it; it's not in my contract."
Jen couldn't help thinking that Percy was being a bit naïve, but she didn't say so, opting to remain a sympathetic ear.
"I just wish they hadn't just jumped to the conclusion that it was the only reason I was hired." Percy said. "I just want them to be proud of me."
"Of course they're proud of you." Jen said immediately. "They love you, Percy, no matter the disagreements you may have had. Just …" she hesitated, "and forgive me for getting too preachy … just don't let your pride get in the way. Maybe you're right about Voldemort, maybe we are. But whatever happens, Percy, do not forget that you have parents who love you, no matter whether you're right or wrong. And you have no idea how lucky that makes you."
Hermione was not happy.
Her discontentment had originally begun when they had first approached the carriages, and Harry had exclaimed over the horses that pulled them.
Hermione had worried about her best friend's mental state – especially when Luna Lovegood had reassured him that she could see them too – until Neville had stepped in and calmly, although with a shaky voice, told them that the strange creatures were Thestrals, which could only be seen if one had experienced death.
Then, true to James's warning, he and Lily had vanished as soon as the carriages had trundled over the threshold of the wards. She wasn't sure whether Harry had fully realised the extent of her worry over this, and she wasn't going to ask, just in case he hadn't.
But without James and Lily to reassure her, she had no idea if they were alright, and if Voldemort remembered that they and their companions were still alive, before Jen and Remus could figure out the location of the island, it would not end well for anyone involved.
The Sorting Hat hadn't helped, providing a longer-than-usual song, warning that danger was coming and that the houses would have to unite, or risk the school falling apart.
Then there was the fact that Hagrid was missing. It was Professor Grubbly-Plank who had met the first years at the station, and no mention had been made of his absence.
Hermione had a feeling he was on Order duty, but surely Professor Dumbledore would have planned for him to arrive back before the start of the school year, so as not to acquire suspicion from the Ministry.
Speaking of the Ministry, it was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who was currently setting off every single one of Hermione's warning bells.
Dolores Umbridge – the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, according to Harry – looked rather like a toad in a fluffy pink cardigan, and had actually interrupted Dumbledore's welcoming speech.
After addressing the students in a voice that suggested they were all five-years-old, she had launched into a monologue that sounded like she had learnt it by rote.
Not many people were paying attention – most of the students were chatting amongst themselves.
There were a few exceptions – Draco was staring at Umbridge with narrowed eyes, as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of her, and Ernie Macmillan was sitting up straight, his chest puffed out, but his eyes were glazed over, and Hermione was fairly sure he was just trying to live up to his badge.
The teachers, too, were watching Umbridge attentively, but it was obvious from their expressions that they didn't like what she was saying one bit, and Hermione didn't blame them at all.
Finally, she sat down, and Dumbledore began clapping, startling the students out of their stupors, before standing up to continue with his own speech.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating. Now as I was saying, Quidditch try-outs will be held …"
"Yes, it certainly was illuminating." Hermione said in a low voice.
Ron turned to her incredulously. "You're not telling me you enjoyed that?! That was the dullest speech I've ever heard – and I grew up with Percy."
"I said illuminating, not enjoyable." Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "There was some important stuff in there – 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged' … 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited' …"
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"It means," Hermione answered, as Dumbledore dismissed them, "that the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts. Come on, Ron. We have to take the first years up to the Tower."
"Oh, right." Ron stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Oi! Midgets!"
"Ron!" Hermione protested. "You can't call them midgets!"
"Why not?" Ron asked. "They're titchy!"
Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Honestly … first years! First years over here please."
It was a bigger year group than her own, she realised, or maybe that just had more Gryffindors. About eighteen first years approached them, all looking incredibly nervous.
Hermione gave them a kind smile. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you up to Gryffindor Tower. Ron, can you bring up the rear and make sure no one gets left behind."
Ron saluted her. "Right you are."
"Alright, come on then." Hermione turned and led the group out of the Great Hall, stopping every so often to make sure she had everyone.
Normally, she would have chattered away to them about the school, but she remembered her own first night – everyone was too tired to take anything in.
Finally, they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Hermione turned to them as they huddled around her. "This is the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Please do not tell anyone from other houses where it is. The password at the moment is Mimbulus Mimbletonia, but that will change in a few weeks, so keep an eye on the house noticeboard."
When she'd said the password, the Fat Lady had swung forward, and Hermione climbed through into the Common Room.
It was strangely crowded for the first night back – normally, people just went straight to bed – but Hermione didn't dwell on it, leading the first years over towards the stairs. "Boys, your dormitories are to the right; girls, to the left. Boys are not allowed in the girls' dorms, and girls are not allowed in the boys' dorms." She gave Ron a glare over their heads, as he threatened to snicker. "Anything to add, Ron?"
"I think you've covered it." Ron shrugged.
"Alright then, the sixth year prefects will meet you down here tomorrow, to walk you to the Great Hall for break …" she broke off, realising that the room had gone silent.
Harry was standing near the portrait hole, apparently as unnerved at the sudden quiet as she was. She saw one of the first years nudge the boy next to him and point at Harry, and resisted the urge to snap at him.
He's just a child. He doesn't know any better.
Before Hermione could move, someone else did – and it wasn't who she expected.
Lee Jordan left Fred and George, and approached Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good summer, mate?"
Harry shrugged. "It was alright. You?"
"Not bad, not bad. Went to the States with my dad – you want to see the girls on some of those beaches."
Fred and George wolf-whistled, but the tension didn't break.
Lee rolled his eyes and walked over to one of the coffee tables, jumping on top of it. "Alright, Lions! Can I have your attention please?! Everyone here? Everyone see me?"
There was a murmur of ascent, as most of the attention shifted to him.
"Now I'm sure our prefects should be handling this," Lee said, sketching a bow towards Ron, Hermione, and the others, "but I thought I'd give it a go. At the end of the last school year, something awful happened. Cedric Diggory was a good bloke. He did not drop dead of his own accord. Whether you want to believe Professor Dumbledore and Harry that You-Know-Who murdered him – that's up to you. It's not my place to tell you what to think. But, first years, what did McGonagall say about the houses?"
The group in front of Hermione jumped at being addressed so directly, and shifted nervously. Finally, one of them piped up: "They'll be like your family."
"Exactly." Lee agreed kindly. "Family." He repeated, now addressing the rest of the room. "At the end of the day, we support family, whether we agree with them or not. Harry's going to get enough grief from the rest of the school over this, without his own family acting like a bunch of bloody Slytherins! If you don't agree, keep it to yourself. If you do, show your Gryffindor bravery, and say so!" He jumped down from the table. "I believe you, Harry, even if no one else does."
"So do we." Angelina added, Alicia and Katie nodding in agreement.
"And me." Neville stated, with uncharacteristic boldness.
"You know where we stand." Fred and George said in unison.
"And us." Ron and Hermione added.
"Quite frankly," Ginny said loudly, "I think anyone who believed the Prophet over the summer should have a good think about why anyone who lost their entire family to Voldemort would ever say he was back if they didn't believe it one hundred per cent."
Hermione could have kissed Lee and Ginny both for that, but she settled for smiling brightly, and saying, "Well, now that's sorted, if the girls could follow me; Ron can take the boys up to their dorm." She led the girls up to the first year dormitory and opened the doors. "Your trunks have already been sent up and, as you can see, there are two dorms, both with five beds, so you can split however you want."
There were eight girls and ten boys in this year, so Hermione hadn't been surprised to see two doors on this floor. The same had happened in the Marauders' year, she knew, when the ten girls had been split into two groups of five.
"What if there were only five of us?" One of the girls asked curiously.
Hermione smiled. "Then there'd only be one dorm. One of the wonders of magic. The Tower has the ability to be bigger on the inside. Oh, one of the things we didn't say downstairs – simply because we don't want to sound like we're issuing a challenge – is that the stairs to these dormitories are charmed to stop the boys coming up here. Right, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask me or one of the other prefects. Goodnight." She continued up the stairs, a murmured response floating up behind her.
When she reached her own dorm, Hermione collapsed onto her bed, rubbing her hands over her face. She was more tired than she had any right to be, given that she'd spent most of the day sitting down.
A tapping at the window caught her attention, and she forced herself to get up again.
Hedwig was perched on the windowsill, and she smiled slightly, opening the window to let her flutter inside. "I hadn't even decided if I was going to send a letter yet." She murmured. "You're ahead of me."
Hedwig hooted and swooped on to the canopy of her bed, as the door opened and Lavender and Parvati came in.
"Evening girls." Hermione greeted, still watching Hedwig. "Good summer?"
"Eventful." Lavender answered, following her gaze. "Isn't that Harry's owl?"
"Yes, she's taken quite a liking to me." Hermione said. "What was eventful about it?"
Parvati looked awkward, but Lavender simply sighed. "My parents. They've decided to believe everything the Daily Prophet came out with. Oh, I don't," she added hastily, when Hermione looked startled. "I don't pretend I know Harry really well, but I know enough to know that he wouldn't lie about You-Know-Who."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. It was surprisingly mature of Lavender, especially since, just six months ago, she ate up everything in the Prophet like it was fat-free chocolate. "What changed your mind about them?"
Lavender looked embarrassed. "That last article on the day of the Third Task. I mean, what they said! It was awful! Harry's the least Dark person I've met! And I realised – we realised," she amended, glancing at Parvati, "that they weren't using proper sources."
"Especially that stuff about consorting with werewolves and giants!" Parvati added. "I'm not Hagrid's biggest fan, I'll admit, but there's nothing Dark about him!"
"And Professor Lupin was the best teacher we've had." Lavender agreed. "Much better than Moody – he was just creepy. And I'd much rather have him this year instead of that … woman."
"She works for the Ministry." Hermione said darkly. "She's interfering."
"Interfering?" Parvati asked blankly. "Why?"
Hermione sighed. "Fudge thinks that Dumbledore's lying about V- You-Know-Who," she corrected hastily, unwilling to deal with the hysteria the name would produce, "to cause trouble. He's sent her in to keep things under control. I bet she'll have owls intercepted." She added thoughtfully.
"They can't do that!" Lavender protested. "It's illegal!"
"We can't stop them." Hermione pointed. "How could we? Any letter we send telling anyone would never reach them."
"Well, I hope you're wrong." Parvati stated, moving towards the bathroom.
Hermione turned back to Hedwig. "So do I." She murmured.
Hedwig hooted again, and a smile spread across Hermione's face. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it earlier.
It was late evening before Jen arrived back at Grimmauld Place. After leaving Percy, she had replaced the glamour and returned to Privet Drive to collect Jess's mail, which had piled up on the doormat. She had a quick chat with Mr. Next-Door, about her new journalism assignment (apparently, Jess was a better wordsmith than Jen was as well), and left for Muggle London.
She was hoping that, if she procrastinated for long enough, that she would return to Grimmauld Place less upset with her brother.
It wasn't that she didn't agree that he needed to get out of the house – everything she had said to Molly was completely and utterly true.
However, she wished he had spoken to her earlier – with some forewarning, she would have been able to concoct a better disguise than a quick Colour-Changing Charm.
Unfortunately, when she walked through the front door that evening, she was still on edge.
"What the hell were you thinking?!" She hissed, when she finally found him in the library, playing chess with Remus.
"Jen, I needed to get out of the house." Sirius said, without looking up.
"Sirius, Padfoot doesn't disguise you from everyone – Lucius Malfoy was on that platform …"
Sirius sighed. "Jen, like you said to Molly …"
"I said that to shut her up so she wouldn't draw attention to us!" Jen hissed. "And everything I said is entirely beside the point!"
Sirius smirked slightly. "So what is the point, Mrs M?"
Jen glared at him, told him in no uncertain terms what he could do (and where he should go while he was doing it), turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, up the stairs to her bedroom.
She collapsed on to her bed with a groan, covering her face with her hands, unknowingly mirroring Hermione's actions over four hundred miles away.
She wasn't entirely sure why she was so upset herself – the last thing she wanted was to become her brother's keeper, and she'd never ask him to stay confined in the house.
But did he really not understand how scared she was?
Did he really not get how pivotal his wellbeing was to her state of mind?
Frustration and irritation flooded her, and her fingers twitched with the urge to play something. There were certain Muggle items that even the elitist of purebloods liked to pretend weren't Muggle – the piano was one of them and, like all purebloods, Jen had been taught to read and play music from an early age.
It was one of the few lessons she had been grateful for, and she and Addie – who had undergone similar tuition as a child – had often sought refuge in the Room of Requirement with a piano when school work and worries about the future got on top of them.
She found herself wishing for a piano now, just to play out her frustrations, and was just considering whether to conjure one, when Remus's voice floated into her head, a little fainter than usual.
You're blocking me, love. Everything alright?
Jen sighed. Sorry, didn't realise I was. She pushed open the link again, but didn't address his question, so she was unsurprised when there was a light knock on the door, and Remus stuck his head in. "Okay?"
Jen stood up, running a hand through her hair. "Frustrated. Am I getting uptight?"
Remus wrapped his arms around her waist, grinning at her. "Do you want an honest answer?"
"Not now." Jen sighed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "I'm not in the mood."
"Sorry." Remus kissed her head. "No, you're not. You're worried about him, and it's understandable. But he's fine, Kingsley will leak another sighting in Tibet tomorrow, and we'll all move on."
"You're right." Jen said softy. "As usual. I'm just glad Molly went back to The Burrow; she'd have had Sirius's guts if she'd come back here. With any luck, she'll have calmed down by the next meeting."
"Owl the twins and ask them to cause havoc." Remus suggested. "That'll shift her focus."
Jen sniggered. "You're awful, you know that? Where is Sirius, anyway?"
"Went to feed Buckbeak." Remus answered. "He was losing rather badly."
"Well, that doesn't surprise me." Jen smirked. "Sirius was always hopeless at chess."
"You're breaking the rule." Remus said sombrely.
"What rule?" Jen asked, confused.
"Never mention your brother when I'm about to kiss you." Remus recited.
"But you're …" Jen broke off, sufficiently distracted. "Once a Marauder …" she murmured, when she'd regained the ability to speak.
"The house is empty." Remus whispered. "How pissed off would they be?"
He didn't elaborate who 'they' were, but he didn't need to – Jen knew full well that her family would disown her all over again for even thinking like this in the family home, let alone acting on it.
"Very." She purred. "What did you have in mind?"
"I haven't quite decided yet." Remus said, trailing kisses across her cheek and down her jaw-line.
Flicking her hand towards the door, Jen cast a wordless locking and silencing charm, tilting her head back to give him better access. She backed up until she could feel her mattress behind her and sat down; he took advantage of the change in position to transfer his lips back to hers and kiss her deeply.
At that moment, however, there was a tapping sound at the window, and they parted with wry smiles.
"We have the worst luck with owls." Remus said ruefully.
"That's because my brother has terrible timing." Jen said. "Who is it?"
"Harry." Remus answered, opening the window to let Hedwig in. "No … Hermione. It's her handwriting. And it's addressed to you."
Jen was a little confused that Hermione would write to her – surely Sirius would be the more obvious choice – but she took the letter and broke the seal, projecting the words to Remus as she read.
Dear Jen, It was very nice to meet you over the summer – I'm glad Harry has someone now; those relatives of his are a little stuffy. I'm writing to ask for some help organising a study schedule for Harry. It's OWL year this year, and he's a little overwhelmed by everything – I think a schedule might help him map out his studies better. Yours sincerely, Hermione Granger.
Remus raised an eyebrow. Code letter, do you think?
Must be. Jen frowned. But I can't for the life of me figure it out.
The last phrase seems weird. Remus remarked.
How do you mean? Jen prompted.
'Map out his studies better'. Remus recited. That's terrible grammar – especially for her. I think I once heard Ron joke that she was going to die correcting someone's pronunciation of the Killing Curse. And she told him it was proNUNciation, not proNOUNciation.
Jen reread the letter carefully. The rest of the grammar is fine – it's just that … She groaned out loud and grabbed her wand. "Of course … Why didn't I think of that?" She pressed the tip of her wand to the letter. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Instantly, the letter blurred and the words changed.
Dear Jen,
Sorry about any confusion – I had to write a letter that wouldn't make anyone suspicious. I know we all thought Moody was being paranoid, but guess who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is?
One Professor Dolores Umbridge, who looks like a toad and talks like a nursery school teacher. She interrupted Dumbledore to give a speech at the welcoming feast – I think most people zoned out, but there was some important stuff in there – things like 'pruning wherever we find practices which ought to be prohibited'.
And, to top it off, even some of the Gryffindors are doubting Harry. Lee Jordan gave them a talking-to this evening, so hopefully they'll keep their mouths shut, but it's so difficult.
I've got to do something – the founders were pushing for unity last year, and now the Sorting Hat's joined in: "our Hogwarts is in danger from external, deadly foes, and we must unite inside her, or we'll crumble from within".
But what am I supposed to do if all the houses hate each other?!
Hopefully, it's safe to send letters this way – if not, don't reply and I'll think of something else.
Hoping you have some ideas,
Hermione
"Clever girl." Remus remarked, reading over her shoulder. "I hadn't even thought of adding passwords to letters."
"Neither had I." Jen admitted. "But we should have done. I don't like the sound of that speech."
"Well, Umbridge …" Remus trailed off, pulling a face. "That woman is evil. Evil in a pink cardigan. There's no way she's not a Death Eater."
"I don't think so." Jen disagreed. "She definitely agrees with Voldemort's campaign, but Voldemort would be perfectly willing to work with 'half-breeds' if it got him what he wanted. Umbridge, from what I've heard, can barely manage to walk into Gringotts. Besides, she wouldn't want to get her hands dirty."
"True." Remus conceded. "That's true. What do we do now?"
Jen smirked. "Write back." She checked her watch. "Actually, make dinner, then write back. If I don't cook something soon, we risk Sirius attempting it and blowing the house up."
"I hate to say it, Jen," Remus said gravely, "but that may be the only way to get it clean."