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Disclaimer: The owner of Harry Potter participated in the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics this summer. I watched the Opening Ceremony on tape-delay and defended its awesomeness against haters on an internet forum. Infer what you will.
Chapter Thirteen: Back to Hogwarts
"Are you okay, Blaise? You seem a little out of it."
What a question. Actually, no, it wasn't a very good question at all. Blaise was most assuredly not okay. Harry must know it, she thought. But how could she possibly explain the turmoil in her mind, the crushing guilt, the despair she felt. Oh, it's nothing, Harry, I'm just a little upset because I made a pact with your best friend to kill you if you go insane from this memory charm I've been using on you. Nothing to be bothered about, really.
Blaise shared a glance with Hermione, who winced and looked away quickly, obviously knowing exactly what was running through her mind. Blaise gave a slight frown. They couldn't give off obvious signs like that, Harry would catch on that something was up very quickly.
"Yeah, I'm okay," she lied.
"It's just a little weird, going back to school and all," she added, because she had to say something. That part wasn't untrue; the problems associated with returning to Hogwarts had been pressing at her for over a week, only taking a backseat in her consciousness in the past few days since she made the pact. But now, walking through the mall-like retail center of King's Cross Station, just a half hour removed from the departure of the Hogwarts Express, it occurred to her that perhaps she should reprioritize her thoughts once again.
"Ah, yeah, definitely," said Harry. "It's weird to be here today and not be going back myself." He paused, then continued with what sounded like some determination.
"Actually, can I talk to you about that? Alone?" he asked, with a hesitant glance at Hermione.
"I'll give you some time," said Hermione gently. "Just remember, we have to be getting to the platform soon." Hermione cut left across the walkway and ducked into the Waterstone's to browse, while Blaise and Harry sought out an open bench.
"So, about Hogwarts," Harry began once they were seated. "What does that mean for us?"
"What do you mean," asked Blaise, somewhat nonplussed.
"We haven't really given our relationship any kind of label," Harry said. "I mean, obviously we've publicly said that we're dating, but that was all before we were actually…you know…and I just wanted us to be clear about what our expectations are."
Oh, thought Blaise, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. For all the time she had spent worrying about the House politics in Slytherin, using the D.A. as a cover for continued training and recruitment, keeping Hermione safe from Dumbledore's Legilimency, and the multitude of other issues she'd have to navigate at Hogwarts, she'd somehow never even spared one thought for what would become of her relationship with Harry.
"I mean, I don't really know how you see us," Harry continued, with the air of someone who had been longing to say this for a while. "I don't know if we're supposed to be just friends with benefits, or if you think of me as a long-term, exclusive boyfriend, or if we're somewhere in between. So I don't know if you expect me to stay faithful and write you long tender missives every night and come visit every Hogsmeade weekend, or if you're planning on trying to shag other people as soon as you get to school and expect me to do the same."
"Well, what would you like us to be?" Blaise asked, mostly to buy herself thinking time.
Harry paused in thought, and then appeared to choose his words carefully. "I don't really know," he said. "I like you a lot as a person. I certainly care about you a great deal. I – well, I think you're bloody well brilliant in bed and wouldn't want to give that up for good," he said with a blush.
"I don't know, I mostly just want whatever you want," he concluded. "I would very much like to stay with you if you'll keep putting up with me for a while longer, but I don't want to force you to be with me if you don't want to. I also know that the distance and separation are going to be hard, I know there are probably going to be guys at Hogwarts that you'll be attracted to, and if I'm honest, I know that there will be women around me that I'll be attracted to as well. They're not you, and I would gladly ignore them if that's what you want, but, you know, it has to be what you want."
Blaise sat in silence for a moment. I would very much like to stay with you if you'll keep putting up with me for a while longer, but I don't want to force you to be with me if you don't want to. Not the most romantic thing a guy had ever said to her. But despite the lack of flowery language or sentiment, Blaise recognized the respect Harry had for her. This was not a man who viewed her as some sort of property, as so many purebloods in his station would. She realized that his attitude was not one of indifference, but rather a simple desire to put her needs above his own. This sort of selflessness was one of Harry's most endearing qualities.
But what to do with that information? Harry was right, the separation would definitely be very hard on them. Blaise thought Harry was probably overstating the temptation that she would face at Hogwarts – in the two years she'd been on the dating scene, she'd found most Hogwarts boys to be lacking in one regard or another – but she knew for Harry it might be unbearable. Quidditch players, like professional athletes everywhere, were propositioned constantly. Add on top of that the fact that Harry was perhaps the most eligible bachelor in Wizarding Britain to start with and Blaise knew it was extremely unrealistic to expect him to stay loyal while she was at school. She didn't want to lose what they had though, so really there was only one solution.
"Let's see how things go," Blaise told him. "We're going to stay in touch and see each other anyway. Let's just say we can have some fun when we see each other, but when we're apart, well, we're apart."
"Like an open relationship? You're really okay with that?" he asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.
"I am," Blaise decided. "I know what's realistic, I know you're going to have witches throwing themselves at you every game day, every time you go out with the team…really, every time you leave the house. And even when you're at home, the Chasers are going to be there, Tonks will be there…I'd much rather just let you do what you will than spend a lot of time worrying about it."
Harry seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded his acceptance. "Alright," he said in an affected voice, standing and offering his hand. "That's a deal, then."
Blaise stood up with him, laughing at his antics. She playfully swatted away his hand and drew him in for a deep kiss.
"I'm going to miss you," he murmured when they finally broke apart. "The Atoll is going to be a fairly lonely place without you and the others around."
"The Chasers and Tonks will still be there," she reminded him gently. "And besides, you're going to be too busy to be lonely anyhow. Come on, let's find Hermione and get to the platform."
They found Hermione still in the Waterstone's, biting her lip as she tried to choose between two new political books on the non-fiction bestsellers table; from her posture, Blaise could tell that Hermione had been standing there agonizing over this decision for several minutes. Harry cut short Hermione's deliberations by simply buying both for her and saying she could decide between them on the train.
The three moved quickly toward the platforms, then paused outside the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. They had decided it made the most sense for Harry to say farewell on the Muggle side of the barrier and have the girls stagger their arrival on the magical side before taking the train in separate compartments; they knew Dumbledore was aware that Blaise and Hermione had spent at least part of the summer with Harry as individuals, but there was no reason to confirm to any prying eyes that they had any relationship beyond their mutual acquaintance.
Blaise stood respectfully aside as Harry and Hermione hugged and exchanged cheek-kisses as they said farewell. In truth, Hermione was another large factor in Blaise's comfort with being in an open relationship with Harry. The Chosen One might have sex with any number of other women, but Blaise was reasonably sure Hermione was the only other person with whom Harry might form the sort of deep romantic attachment that could threaten her status. Or, even if Harry did develop real feelings for another witch, that woman would certainly feel very threatened by Harry's closeness with the brainy Gryffindor. Eventually the new girl would give Harry an ultimatum and Blaise had no doubts about who would get the short end of the stick in that scenario. Cho Chang had learned this lesson the hard way.
For her part, Blaise didn't mind Harry and Hermione's closeness at all; in fact, she rather enjoyed it, as Hermione's advice and perspective often prevented Harry from engaging in the kinds of teenage boy-ish behaviors that had turned Blaise off from so many of her other Hogwarts classmates. Moreover, Blaise did not expect Harry to be her life-partner, so what did she care if there was another girl out there to whom he might eventually be better suited? As long as she got her share of him, Blaise was fine.
The Slytherin watched as Hermione finally departed and disappeared through the barrier. As soon as the brunette was gone, Blaise sidled up to Harry in the sexiest way she knew and engaged him in an incredible kiss that made not a few of the surrounding Muggles stop and stare.
"First Hogsmeade weekend, then?" Harry asked when they parted, voice slightly breathless.
"I guess so," she sighed, the reality of being without Harry for a month or two truly hitting her for the first time. "Although if you ever feel the need to sneak in through one of those secret passages…"
He smirked. "I might just do that." He glanced at his watch and swore under his breath.
"Five minutes. You should probably get going and find your compartment," Harry said with a sad smile.
Blaise nodded. She gave him one more brief peck on the lips and then, before he could say another word, stepped forward and melted into the barrier.
Harry felt a powerful wave of loss wash over him as he watched Blaise go through to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He cursed himself for his cowardice. How hard would it have been to be honest? Why couldn't he have simply told her what he actually felt, how an open relationship was the absolute last thing that he wanted.
Well, not the absolute last thing, he mused. Being in an open relationship with Blaise was better than no relationship at all.
But still.
There was no time to dwell on his feelings for Blaise though, he was already late. Harry dipped into a stall in the men's bathroom to change into his Gaunt cloak, then flushed the toilet to mask the pop of his Apparition.
Harry reappeared outside the massive double doors leading to the grand Malfoy Manor parlor room Voldemort had designated for meetings with his inner circle of Death Eaters. Harry paused and composed himself for a moment, then blew open the entrance with as much magic as he could muster. The imposing and ornately carved oak doors slammed violently into the marble walls, startling everyone inside. Harry stood dramatically framed in the entryway for just a moment before sweeping into the room as imperiously as he could manage. Harry always felt a bit ridiculous doing things like this, but Voldemort had lectured him long and hard on the importance of employing theatrics whenever possible. Modest mastery might be sufficient behind the scenes in the political arena, but as an aspiring Dark Lord, it was important to be as imposing as possible at all times.
"Ah, Lord Gaunt, I'm glad you've seen fit to join us," said Voldemort.
"My apologies. I got caught up trying to hunt down the rest of your nose and lost track of time," Harry returned.
A ripple of fear made its way quickly through the Death Eaters, who seemed split between wanting to watch Voldemort for his reaction and simply wanting to hide. The only person who had ever spoken to the Dark Lord that way had been some foolish member of the Order captured early on in the first war. His life had been forfeit anyway, but Voldemort had been so enraged by the disrespect that he used the Imperius curse to force the man to cut off and eat small pieces of his daughter while she was still alive and then kill himself by drowning in a tub of her blood. Only Bellatrix had been able resist succumbing to nausea that day and the incident eventually precipitated the first of the two Death Eater mutinies Voldemort had had to put down in that attempt at power.
On this occasion, however, no such carnage was forthcoming. Instead, Voldemort forced a half-grimace, half-smile and motioned for Harry to sit down.
"My Lord, I must protest!" exclaimed one of the Death Eaters, a pallid-faced man in his early fourties. "I cannot stand by while you are disrespected like that!" He stood and made a move to draw his wand, but Voldemort stopped him.
"Easy, Carrow," said the Dark Lord, his voice as placating as it could be but still carrying a hint of a threat. "It is not your place to question Lord Gaunt."
"My Lord, I-"
"Silence, Death Eater," thundered Harry. "I have tolerated your insubordination long enough. Disrupt this meeting any further and you shall not enjoy the consequences."
Carrow's face flushed, but he seemed to think better of continued vocalization.
"My Lord, before you arrived, we were discussing our plans to take over the Ministry," said Bellatrix. Underneath his glamour charms, Harry smirked. This was his first time interacting with Bellatrix since he had tortured her; apparently she was eager to get onto his good side. "Jugson had just suggested using our asset in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to assassinate Minister Fudge."
Harry took his seat to Voldemort's left and considered this idea. "Why don't you explain further," he said, looking to Jugson. "Fudge hasn't been giving us too much trouble, has he? Seems like a waste of an asset."
Jugson, a bear of a man, wilted a little under Harry's gaze. "If we get Fudge, we can put our own guy in the Minister's office, and he can make sure the asset is not exposed," he said, not a little defensively. "We have the votes in the Wizengamot."
Harry stared a little longer. "To what end, though? So that we can rule from the shadows? I don't believe that's what I signed up for, nor you Jugson. And tell me, for whom do you have the votes in the Wizengamot? Everyone in this room and most of our prominent allies outside of it are at least suspected of being Death Eaters, Dumbledore will stop at nothing to prevent our election."
"The votes in this room alone account for five percent of the Wizengamot," said a reedy man whose name Harry did not know. "Our other firm allies account for another twenty percent, and maybe another twenty percent of the votes can be persuaded to support anyone we want. Throw in the fact that a further ten percent of the votes are unaccounted for entirely, and we have an unbeatable plurality."
"Oh," said Harry in mock surprise. "So what's stopping us, then? Why don't we just use that bloc to create a co-Minister position, elect the Dark Lord and myself to those positions, and then have another vote to abolish the Wizengamot and vest all power in the co-Ministry? It seems the war could be over at the very next session."
"Well-"
"What your rosy outlook failed to account for is the fact that most of the allies you mentioned outside this room would instantly balk at the idea of us taking power so brazenly, or at all. There is a reason, Jugson, that the share of voting power in this room is only five percent, and not the forty-five percent you just cited. These are not Death Eaters, they are noblemen," he continued, sneering the last word. "They like the pureblood cause and will stand with you if the issue is restricting werewolves or keeping Mudbloods from owning businesses on Diagon Alley, but they have no desire to give up their power and live under our rule.
"Eliminating Fudge will succeed only in sending otherwise sympathetic purebloods running to hide behind Dumbledore's coattails, it would be the best thing that ever happened to the Order's coffers and political clout. We only can openly grab power through the Wizengamot once the pureblood Lords know they cannot safely oppose us," Harry concluded.
"So what would you have us do?" asked an oily Death Eater at the far end of the table. Harry made a mental note that he would need to ask Voldemort for the names of the inner circle before the next meeting. "Nothing?"
"We must take Azkaban," declared Voldemort. "It is imperative that we keep the DMLE's attention focused on protecting and Obliviating Muggles, and to do that, we need to get back the commanders we lost at the Department of Mysteries."
"And in the meantime, we work on softening opposition to a new Minister," said Harry. "We use our influence in the Ministry to move our people into key roles and marginalize those who would stand in our way. Those of you who are Lords will quietly float the idea of replacing Fudge with someone more sympathetic to our allies, and see where the resistance is. My team will ensure those resistant Lords know that there is no safety from us.
"Finally, my team will be hard at work on our number-one priority."
"What is that, my Lord?" asked Bellatrix, still eager to please.
Harry allowed himself a grin underneath his glamour charms. "Finding a way to kill Dumbledore."
"Thank you for coming to this special meeting of the Order of the Phoenix," said Albus Dumbledore, standing at his customary podium in the Great Hall. All of the members of the Order filled what was typically the Ravenclaw table, which had been rotated so as to be parallel to the Head table. Most of the group was looking up to him with unmasked curiosity.
"I know that you are all unaccustomed to meeting as one body," Dumbledore continued his prepared remarks. "And I know that I have frequently denied many of your requests to meet as one body in the past, citing security concerns. Please do not take this meeting as a repudiation of those statements. It is still my intention that the Order be compartmentalized to the greatest extent possible. However, I come before you today with news of such importance that I feel it must be imparted to you all at once. It is critical that all of you hear exactly the same thing so that there is no confusion among us, and that all of our actions are in harmony with our goals."
Dumbledore stopped and gazed around the group gravely, hoping to impress the seriousness of the upcoming news on everyone.
"Earlier this summer, I received intelligence indicating that Lord Voldemort had named a second-in-command, a heretofore unknown person rumored to have tortured Bellatrix Lestrange on Voldemort's orders. Last Wednesday, Voldemort introduced this person to the whole body of the Death Eaters as an equal styled 'Lord Gaunt.'"
There was an outbreak of muttering at this, which Dumbledore allowed to run its course. Finally, one voice broke through; it was Oliver Shearman, the leader of Dumbledore's coalition in the Wizengamot. "I'm sorry Albus, I just don't understand. An 'equal' to Voldemort? It makes no sense."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it was extremely vexing for me as well. We're not quite sure if Lord Gaunt is actually an equal, or if our initial read that he is merely second-in-command was correct, but it cannot be denied that Voldemort regards him as crucially important. At his Introduction, our sources say that Gaunt killed five Death Eaters who questioned his authority, using magic of the most impressive kind. This is a real player.
"In that vein, let's go through what we know about Lord Gaunt. First, we know that his true identity is being hidden. He is not like Voldemort, who shows his face openly. Gaunt hides underneath a cloak with a hood that magically keeps his face in shadow; the only visible parts of him are two glowing green triangles where his eyes should be. Further, we are confident that 'Gaunt' is a pseudonym: the Gaunt family was an old pureblood line of which Voldemort is the last descendent, and we suspect that Voldemort gave him that name in honor of that lineage. No one by the name 'Gaunt' has passed through Hogwarts or any of the other magical schools in more than fifty years.
"Gaunt is known to have at least two lieutenants, names unknown, who wear the same outfit and are disguised in the same way that he is. Their cloaks are adorned with Gaunt's own insignia: a cobra wrapped around a skull. It is also believed that Lord Gaunt has a number of lower-level followers, although their number – and, for that matter, their existence - is unconfirmed. We also know that the lieutenants have been training with Bellatrix Lestrange this summer.
"In short, this Lord Gaunt is a major threat, not at all someone to be taken lightly. He is a powerful wizard, presumably trained by Voldemort himself. He has shown sadism, mercilessness, and a general penchant for violence on par with any other Death Eater." Dumbledore concluded his remarks and spread his arms, indicating that the floor was open.
"You're telling us that we have absolutely no leads on who this person really is," demanded Shearman. "None at all?"
Dumbledore had decided a while back that he would not reveal his suspicion that Lord Gaunt and Harry Potter were one and the same. After meeting Gaunt, Snape had completely reversed his previous conviction about the new Death Eater's identity. Some claptrap about how there was "no way a little snot like Potter" could carry an aura as chilling as Gaunt's. Dumbledore did not put too much stock in that reasoning; an Intimidation Ward woven into the fabric of the cloak would make a flobberworm wearing it seem imposing. What did give Dumbledore pause was the way Gaunt had been introduced to the Death Eaters: Voldemort had called him his "equal." The prophecy clearly stated that Potter was to be marked as the Dark Lord's servant. Furthermore, there was no evidence that Gaunt had been given the Dark Mark; in fact, the brand new insignia on Gaunt's cloak and the existence of his own power structure separate from the Death Eaters pointed in the exact opposite direction.
It was clear, though, that Harry was up to something. Even if he did not know the true prophecy yet, Harry would believe the false prophecy Dumbledore had shown him after the battle. Dumbledore knew that the Blacks maintained property all over the world to oversee their shipping empire; if Harry's intention was to defy the false prophecy and attempt to abandon his destiny, Dumbledore was sure he'd have left the country entirely. No, Harry was definitely plotting something, the only question was what.
But all of that was beside the point. Even if he were still completely convinced that Potter was Gaunt, Dumbledore would not tell the Order about it. In truth, he felt terribly for the boy, condemned by fate to evil and an early grave despite so much innate goodness and strength of character. The childhood he had sentenced Harry to, the manipulations he had wrought in Harry's life, the boy's death sentence, these were all more than sufficient punishments for whatever evil the child would do between now and the fulfillment of the prophecy, Dumbledore didn't see the need to tarnish the boy's image on top of everything else. Dumbledore resolved to do whatever it took to make Harry look like a hero to the end; he would be forever known to have martyred himself to destroy Voldemort. It was the least Dumbledore could do.
With these thoughts, Dumbledore denied any insight into the true identity of Lord Gaunt and fielded several other questions on auto-pilot. When the crowd seemed to run out of steam, he cleared his throat and resumed speaking.
"This is the beginning of Voldemort's endgame. Those of you who are in the Ministry or on the Wizengamot need to become extremely vigilant. It is not Voldemort's intention to collapse the Ministry entirely except as a last resort – if at all possible, he will seize power through legitimate institutions. This means that we need to work as hard as possible to keep our coalitions together in the Wizengamot, fill whatever vacancies we can in the Ministry with our people, and scrutinize everything that comes through either body for any way it could help Voldemort.
"Moreover, we need to become much more proactive than we have been in the past. We need to work with the Ministry to move Death Eaters someplace more secure than Azkaban, somewhere secret not guarded by Dementors. We need to do everything in our power to court assistance or neutrality from all variety of sentient magical species. Most of all, we need to become active assistants to the DMLE in discovering the identities of Voldemort's Inner Circle, and work to ensure the law freezing the Gringotts accounts of suspected Death Eaters passes when the Wizengamot reconvenes this month. I have a specific plan of action that I will go over with you all in your individual groups, but I think it important that we all have our eye on the big picture."
A round of applause greeted these words, and Dumbledore smiled appreciatively before raising his arms for quiet. The room stilled quickly; for many, this was just like being students one more. "Is there any other business that needs to be aired before we adjourn? The students will be arriving at Hogsmeade station in just a few hours and the staff and I still have some last-minute preparations to make."
There was a brief period of silence before Mrs. Weasley finally spoke up. "Just one more thing, Albus," she said, soberly. "What is being done about Harry? I can't bear to think of him spending all summer holed up in that awful old house all alone, and now he's not even coming back to Hogwarts…" she trailed off, looking completely upset. "Is there really nothing you can do to fix your relationship with him?"
"Molly…" Dumbledore began in a placating tone, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.
"It's just that I've barely heard from him all summer," she sniffed, "just once, I think, right after Ron…and Ginny and the rest of us, we're so worried, Albus. And now he's – he's dating some Slytherin and playing Quidditch…it's just not like him!"
"The dynamic between Mr. Potter and I is complex and strained," euphemized Dumbledore, still using the most calming tone he knew. "I honestly don't know what I could do to even things between us. We do have ways to stay in contact though. I'll be seeing him at the Wizengamot, of course, and I assume I can get a message through Ms. Zabini or Ms. Granger, should the need arise."
"But he's not safe, we have to do more!" Molly's voice was somewhere between a sob and a shriek now.
"Loath as I am to admit it," Dumbledore said, "Harry's defenses have proven impervious to all my best efforts to penetrate them; I have not even been able to detect the magical signatures of those living at Grimmauld Place. I too wish Harry would return to Hogwarts, but I cannot force him to."
In truth, Dumbledore had come to the conclusion that it was better that Harry was out of pocket. If he had joined Voldemort already, then the prophecy was on its way to fulfillment, and the world was one step closer to being freed from the Dark Lord's evil. Dumbledore had been silly to think that he could keep Harry weak indefinitely; and really, it didn't matter. Harry would kill Voldemort in some sort of prophecy-assisted fluke, and then Dumbledore would be right there to dispose of the boy before he could cause too much damage. What Harry did between now and then did not really matter; no matter what, he'd never acquire enough magical skill to defeat Dumbledore. The outcome of their final battle was pre-determined; it was simply a matter of cornering Harry somewhere he couldn't escape.
Dumbledore sighed silently underneath the rabble that had broken out among the Order and glanced over to Snape. The Potions Master met his gaze and Dumbledore pushed shallowly into his mind, just far enough into Snape's consciousness to allow communication.
Are you ready for tonight?
It is a waste of time, Headmaster, Snape replied. The girls know nothing useful; there is nothing useful to know.
Yes, yes, but are you ready? Dumbledore sent, dismissing Snape's objection.
Always, Headmaster.
"So you're still not going to tell me what that was about, the other night?" asked Seamus. His tone was casual, but the slight tremor in his voice – along with the fact that this was at least the seventh time he'd brought it up – told Hermione that his attitude was anything but.
"I've told you, it was something private-"
"-between you and Katie, yes, I know," finished Seamus, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.
"Yes, Seamus, it was something private," she emphasized, getting exasperated herself. "Private, as in, 'I'm not going to tell you what we were talking about, because it was private.'" Hermione turned and looked pointedly out the compartment window, staring unseeingly at the landscape whirring past.
"Well, I mean," Seamus sputtered. "How often does Katie come into your room at three in the morning to 'discuss something private?'"
Hermione turned back from the window and stared at Seamus, completely nonplussed. "What?"
"I mean…" Seamus trailed off, looking embarrassed. "She seemed pretty comfortable just coming into the room without knocking, and with you…well…in that state of dress, shall we say…"
Hermione just goggled at him. Surely he can't be suggesting…
"It's just," Seamus continued, growing steadily redder, "I don't mind, you know? I don't want you to think you have to hide things from me…"
Oh dear Merlin, he is suggesting…
"…and I want you to know that I accept you for who you are-"
"Let me stop you right there," snapped Hermione, more annoyed than she had been in quite a while. "You are…I can't even begin to describe how far off base you are if this is going where I think it's going. I suggest you drop it." Hermione hoped her tone would make clear that this was not a suggestion at all.
"Oh," said Seamus, visibly deflating. "It's just, I mean, I just thought…" the Irish teen was visibly conflicted between continuing his train of thought, shutting up, and fleeing the compartment entirely. Hermione put on her best glare in an effort to encourage either of the latter two options, but instead it seemed to strengthen Seamus' resolve.
"I just thought that if the two of you were…you know…then maybe we could, that is, the three of us…" Seamus' voice died as Hermione, unable to maintain the glare, buried her face in her right palm.
"Seamus," she ground out slowly, her voice slightly muffled by the heel of her hand, "I think it might be best if you went and found Dean."
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I-"
"Now!"
Seamus scampered out into the train's corridor, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy, and dashed up the train to where Dean was sitting with Neville, Parvati, and Lavender.
Hermione resumed staring out the window, massaging her temples. Why did every teenaged boy think every girl was a bisexual? How would Seamus have felt if she had asked him for a threesome with Harry? Hermione briefly wondered whether there was any such thing as pornography in the wizarding world and if it was as prevalent and accessible as in the Muggle world, and quickly came to the conclusion that of course there was. Wherever there were teenage boys, there was pornography.
Hermione supposed she should be at least a little bit thankful for Seamus' affinity for smut; she suspected that was what accounted for Seamus' assertiveness and confidence in bed, traits that had been oddly absent in Viktor Krum…
Hermione cringed as the memories of her fourth year came back to her: the dance, so perfect before Ron had ruined the night with his pigheadedness; the blazing row they'd had after Rita Skeeter's article came out; their painfully awkward – and just plain painful, for that matter – first time together. She became extremely distant toward Viktor for a long while after that night, before clinging to him like the most pathetic, angsty, stereotypical bildungsroman character ever written. I would have stopped writing back, too, she thought, shaking her head at her behavior in the month leading up to the Third Task and the novel-length letters she sent all through last year.
You were fifteen years old, she reminded herself sternly. You were entitled to be an idiot.
Ugh, what am I doing, she scolded herself. Sitting alone on a train, feeling bad about things from more than a year ago…all because Seamus wanted to have a threesome? What would Blaise say about this?
And then Hermione knew that she had to talk with Blaise before the train pulled into Hogsmeade. This would be the last opportunity she would have to hang around with the Slytherin girl completely safe from prying eyes. Such a chance was not to be wasted.
Hermione pulled out her wand and lightly tapped the small, three-stone platinum ring on her left pinky finger. This ring represented the proudest spellcasting of her life. It served much the same purpose as the D.A.'s charmed Galleons had last year, but with much greater functionality. Everyone from the Atoll wore one – the boys' were done in a more masculine style – and each could be used to contact any individual wearer, any group of wearers, or the entire group. When a message was received, the whole ring would grow warm and the two outer diamonds changed color to identify the sender: Harry's colors, for instance were green and gold. It was also possible to make the center stone glow red, indicating an emergency message that had to be responded to immediately. When the wearer took off the ring, she would find whatever message had been sent engraved on the inside. All of the rings were concealed from view by outsiders by a Fidelius charm, making the rings the most secure communication system Hermione had ever heard of. Such devices were necessary though, secrecy was imperative while they lived and plotted under Dumbledore's nose.
After just a couple minutes, Hermione heard the sound of her compartment door sliding back. The Gryffindor looked up and was pleased to see Blaise walking in, already changed into her Hogwarts uniform. Hermione marveled at her for a second before catching herself – the way Blaise could give shape to the notoriously figure-killing Hogwarts robes was simply unfair.
"Hey," Hermione smiled, determinedly fixing her deep brown eyes on Blaise's and not on the way the girl's gray sweater formed around and accentuated her bust and slim waist.
"No Seamus?" Blaised asked with a trace of irony, sitting down across from Hermione.
"Ugh. You won't believe what he said earlier…" Hermione began hotly, but Blaise cut her off.
"Wait. If we're having a bitch-about-boys moment, you know what we need first…"
Hermione gasped. "You brought it?"
"The whole rack," Blaise smirked, reaching into her pocket and bringing out a miniaturized case. She put the case on the seat next to her, enlarged it, and opened the clasp. "What shall we go for this afternoon, the '74 Delacour Estate?" she asked, digging around in the case and producing a bottle and a pair of glasses.
"Obviously," Hermione agreed, accepting a glass and a healthy pour from Blaise. She swirled the magical wine, which required no aeration, and tilted her nose into the glass, inhaling deeply. The scent alone was intoxicating. "I can't believe you took Harry's whole collection," she giggled, finally taking a sip. "He'll be upset for sure."
Blaise dismissed this with a wave. "Harry's palate is about as refined as bubotuber pus. Good wine is utterly wasted on him. We would be remiss in our duties as connoisseurs if we allowed liquid gold like this to languish unattended or be consumed by those unable to appreciate it in all its glory."
Hermione just giggled again, and the girls launched into relaxed gossip and speculation about the men in their lives. Delacour Estate wines were renowned for a special charm the family had developed that allowed the drinker to quickly develop a mild, pleasant intoxication but never become completely or dangerously drunk no matter how much wine they consumed. Hermione and Blaise tested this charm to its limit, finishing three bottles of the rare vintage over the next two hours of the ride. This had been their customary post-training pastime on the Atoll, but it was still a rather well-lubricated pair who laid siege to the sweets trolley as it passed by and fell back into the compartment intent on gorging themselves.
"'schtiw kahnt beweefim," said Hermione through a mouth full of Cauldron Cake, sending her Slytherin counterpart into a fit of laughter. Hermione swallowed and tried again.
"I still can't believe him," she got out this time.
"Wh-who, Seamus?" snorted Blaise, unsuccessfully trying to tame her mirth.
"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed.
"What, for asking for a threesome? You know guys like to fantasize about that," Blaise said sagely, her voice an octave deeper than normal from the wine.
Hermione waved her off. "No, that's not what I have a problem with. If he had just…you know...asked for a threesome, that would have been…" Hermione trailed off and paused, thinking. "Well, it would have been better, anyway. No, it's the reason he asked!"
"Because he thought you were having sex with Katie?"
"Because he thought I was having sex with Katie!" Hermione raged. "As if just because he's attracted to Katie, obviously I must be attracted to her too! As if women are just sex fiends that exist solely for his amusement!"
"Well, in fairness…" began Blaise, but Hemrione quickly overrode her.
"What? No, there is no 'in fairness' here! You're supposed to be on my side, dammit!"
"In fairness," Blaise repeated, a little bit louder, making it clear that she had no intention of being drowned out. "It's not like thinking you might play for both teams is completely out of order."
This stunned Hermione into silence momentarily, but not for long.
"What?"
"I mean, I'm just saying," giggled Blaise, nibbling the tip of a licorice wand. "I saw you looking at those lesbians back at Alchemy, or Tonks when she's freshly out of the shower. Hell, I've seen the way you look at me from time to time…"
Hermione simply gaped, thoroughly stupefied.
"You can't possibly be serious…"
"I'm sure you don't mean anything by it," placated Blaise, "I'm just saying I see how someone could get that impression."
"From Katie coming into my room?"
"Well, no, he was well out of line there."
"Thank you," said a mollified Hermione. "And I'm not attracted to you, I'm jealous of you. I have no idea how you manage to look that good in the Hogwarts uniform, it's perfectly dreadful on everyone else, including and especially me."
Blaise smirked. "One of these days, my dear," she said, affecting an imperious tone and brandishing the remains of her licorice wand as a scepter, "I shall deem you worthy of my secrets."
The brunette simply rolled her eyes. "Pop open another bottle, would you? We need something to wash all this down with."
"Indeed."
A few hours after the Death Eaters had left and both men had tired of training for the day, Harry and Voldemort retired to one of Malfoy Manor's grand parlors. Each flopped into a regal leather-backed chair before the grand white marble fireplace that was the centerpiece of the room. Most fires in wizarding homes were larger than their Muggle counterparts – sizeable enough to receive a man or two at a time through the Floo – but this one was enormous even by those standards: fifteen feet tall, six feet deep, adorned from head to toe with magical engravings of and carvings of unicorns prancing about and striking poses. The first time Harry had come into this room he had been confused by the symbolism – it didn't make sense that a "Dark" family like the Malfoys would be so enamored with a creature firmly associated with the Light. He had aired those thoughts to Voldemort, who had just laughed.
"We really must work harder on getting Dumbledore's ideas about 'Light' and 'Dark' out of your head, Lord Gaunt. You must divorce yourself from these childish notions and think about what a unicorn actually is. It's one of the most powerfully magical non-sentient species. Its horn has powerful healing properties, but is also a remarkably lethal weapon. The blood of the unicorn can save you from death, but also transmits a powerful curse. It is gentle by nature, but can be ferocious at any point. A unicorn is beautiful and glamorous, but deadly.
"Now think about what the unicorn symbolizes, above all else. Think about that, and realize the question you should be asking is why more families like the Malfoys don't associate themselves with unicorns."
It had been so obvious once Voldemort put it that way. Purity. Of course. Voldemort had a gift for explaining things this way. Nearly every time he spoke, Harry was left with impression that what the Dark Lord had said was not only absolutely correct but should be completely obvious to anyone with functioning brain cells, and that he – Harry – was better than any hypothetical person that might disagree. It took absolutely no imagination to figure out how Voldemort had begun a revolutionary movement – who wouldn't want to feel like this? Who wouldn't follow this man?
As they sat, recuperating in these wondrous chairs, Harry and Voldemort spoke of issues of little consequence – the coming dawn of Quidditch season, the various inadequacies of Death Eaters old and new. Nagini was curled between them on the rug before the fire and would occasionally lift her head up and interject, usually to express her opinion of how tasty whichever Death Eater they were discussing would be. As a result, the conversation would often lapse into a disjointed English-Parseltongue hybrid that surely would have seemed exceedingly strange to any observers.
"We could just have Blaise and Hermione do it," Harry said eventually, after a lull. "He'll want to talk to them to find out about me, I'm sure of it. I could give them the order now, he could be dead tonight."
Voldemort laughed at this. "My dear Lord Gaunt I admire your ambition…but if killing Dumbledore were as simple as getting him alone in a room with a couple of skilled operatives, I'd have done it decades ago? You would really think to attack him in Hogwarts? In the Headmaster's Office? Where he has those portraits, all those devices alerting him to any magic you might use, that fucking bird, and any number of other defenses you don't even know about?
"No, Hogwarts has too many eyes and it's too well protected. Leave Dumbledore to me. Perhaps you could get started on our other list though…"
Hermione was fidgeting. It was awfully nervous, this, sitting in the Headmaster's Office with Blaise just two days after their last training session with Bellatrix Lestrange. Of course, Hermione had always known her return to Hogwarts would come eventually, that a meeting like this was inevitable. But, like so many other things, knowing it intellectually and actually experiencing it were completely different.
Hermione had finally killed for the first time. She and Blaise both had that last day with Bellatrix. The only thing that psychopathic old Death Eater knew about their identities was that they had never killed, so they had been working up to it all month. They had been Muggles, just a couple of junkies they'd kidnapped from some slum in East London, losers that nobody would miss.
The experience had been, well, sort of anti-climactic really. Hermione had felt the tension and adrenaline building all day leading up to it and it had built up and up and up, to the point it was almost literally unbearable when she raised her wand.
But then she had cast her spell – an Asphyxiation Curse, so there wouldn't be any gore – and watched unblinkingly as the sinewy, heavily tattooed and scarred waif of a man had struggled briefly but swiftly succumbed to the oxygen deprivation. And when it was all over, there was nothing. No euphoria, no debilitating pangs of conscience or guilt, no horror, none of the things Harry had told her to expect. Just a deep and abiding emptiness, and the absence of emotion was as powerful as anything else she had ever felt.
While Blaise had emerged this morning seemingly cured after being inconsolable for the rest of the day after her kill, Hermione still dwelled on that emptiness. What did it mean, to not feel anything? Was she pathological? Had she already been taken in and made an unfeeling monster by the Dark? Or was the fact that she worried about this a sign that she wasn't those things?
Dumbledore was rambling on about something at Blaise, probably probing her for any sign of familiarity that might betray what Harry was up to. Blaise was a pro: giving away nothing, sticking to the company line that Harry just wanted to play Quidditch now, easily parrying questions designed to trap her. Blaise's father had been training her in Occlumency since she was eight and now the girl had a most impressive set of shields. They weren't enough to keep out a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore indefinitely, but certainly he had no chance to get through without concentrated and obvious effort.
Hermione's own shields, on the other hand, were extremely weak. She had only been practicing Occlumency for a couple months; first with Tonks, then with Blaise as well when the blonde had moved in. She was progressing quickly, but Occlumency wasn't the sort of thing you could become a master of overnight. There was more to it than just sitting alone and visualizing a library or a town and filling it with memories, the way some of the more fanciful wizard novels liked to pretend the process worked. That was the last of innumerable steps in the process, the first of which required literally hundreds of mental exercises to retrain your mind to even be receptive to the sort of organization necessary for Occlumency.
At this point in her training, Hermione was able to detect an intrusion and fend it off long enough to disengage from the Legilimens. Blaise had taught her a tricky little spell that would produce a sharp little pain in Hermione's foot not dissimilar to stepping on a tack. The pain it produced would provide sufficient distraction for her mind to jar her loose from a Legilimency attack. Not a perfect defense by any means, but probably enough to get through this meeting with Dumbledore and Snape.
Dumbledore was talking to her now, but Hermione wasn't really listening. How many ways were there to ask, "Tell me what Harry's up to?" How many ways to respond, "I don't know, but if I did I wouldn't tell you?"
"Miss Granger, I don't feel as though I have your full attention. Would you mind looking at me, please?" said Dumbledore, his voice finally cutting through enough to register in her consciousness.
No, Dumbledore did not have her full attention, not before, and certainly not now that her ring had gone warm. Hermione glanced at it as surreptitiously as she could – though it was under a Fidelius Charm, it would not do for Dumbledore to even suspect that such an item might exist. The outer diamonds had gone green and gold; this message was from Harry.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but I just don't understand what we're doing here," said Hermione, her voice gaining firmness for the first time that night. "You've asked us repeatedly about Harry, and I'm sorry I'm not in a better position to help you, but I just don't know anything about what's going on with Harry. He doesn't want to come back to school, he's playing Quidditch, he's sort of nervous about the Wizengamot, and he misses Blaise. That's all I know…maybe Blaise knows something else, but it sure doesn't sound like it. Now, unless there's some other reason for having me here, can I go? It's been a long day, and I want to get up early to revise for my morning classes."
She glared at the top of his nose just between his eyes and held it for a brief while. Finally, the Headmaster nodded his acquiescence and Hermione exited the office, making her way swiftly to the nearest bathroom. After ducking into the first stall, Hermione slipped the ring off her finger and read her message.
Tonight. Bring Seamus. No Blaise. Airtight alibi is a must. Be ready.
Author's Notes: Done! Pretty happy with this chapter, we're really about to get cooking! Please don't forget to leave a review, and be sure to check out my WordPress blog "Supremo Stories" (link in profile) for the extended author's notes!
Here are a couple points I want to make sure everyone gets before I move on to review responses:
First, I've been trying for literally more than a year to remember the name of this fic, so I'm hoping one of my readers can help me out (and obviously, you'll get a HUGE shoutout in the next Author's Notes if you can help me with this). The fic in question is a novel-length fifth year Independent!Harry fic. It's one of those ones where Harry is forming his own coalition to fight Voldemort, separate from Dumbledore (I can't remember if Dumbledore is portrayed as evil or merely manipulative in this fic, but it's one of of the two). Here's the distinguishing thing that I remember: At one point, Harry goes off to do some sort of mission and is severely injured in the process (I think he might have been Cruciated, but I'm not 100% positive). He thinks it's really important that he not be treated at Hogwarts, so Fleur brings him back to the Delacour Estate, which is also a magical winery, for a few days of treatment/recouperation. Over that time, they grow close, and on the last night before Harry returns to Hogwarts they have an intimate encounter, despite the fact that Fleur is engaged to Bill. Harry goes back to Hogwarts wanting more/an actual relationship with Fleur, and Fleur is extremely confused about what she wants. Ultimately though, a couple months later, Fleur breaks Harry's heart by telling him she'll stay with Bill. This is all just a subplot, and I think the fic winds up H/Hr, but this plot feature is what stands out in my mind. Does anyone know what this fic might be? I'll be eternally grateful if you can tell me. I'm pretty sure this is a fairly well-known, well-liked fic, but I just can't find it for the life of me. Thanks so much, readers. Note: the "Delacour Estate" wine Blaise and Hermione drink on the Express is inspired by this fic. I'd love to give credit, but I just can't yet.
Second, the Hermione/Viktor Krum thing. I don't think I've ever seen this element used before, but I think it makes a lot of sense. I'll expand on this more on the blog, but I'm surprised this isn't an angle other authors haven't explored more. Or, I mean, I guess I understand why: it's creepy to think about or write about a 17/18 year old international Quidditch star having sex with a 15 year old girl. But at the same time, I think this is a very plausible alternative to the standard "Hermione used Krum to make Ron jealous" line from canon, and somewhat more interesting/valid than writing it off as "Hermione was just really into having a foreign pen pal."
OK, on to review responses!
To Reader-anonymous-writer: Your question about binding magical contracts was really good. Here's my take: I say that (at least for the purposes of the RotA universe) though there are such things as binding magical contracts that will magically compel performance (and, you'll remember, Harry employs one on the first day at the Atoll), there are also such things as normal contracts as exist in the real world. In the real world, of course, it is extremely rare that the legal system will force actual performance of a contract – instead, they will almost always simply insist that a party in breach of contract compensate the injured party for damages stemming from the breach. So, when Harry quits the Tornados to run the country, he will be liable to the Tornados for whatever damages they can proce (and indeed, there won't be any need for a lawsuit about it, he'll just pay them) but he's not going to lose his magic or die or anything drastic like that.
To ChaosRune: I totally understand where you're coming from. When you wrote your review, we were already 81,000 words into RotA – after this chapter, we're more than 90,000 words in – and there hasn't been any actual H/Many yet. I can totally understand how someone who clicked on RotA looking for that would be disappointed. However, I'm going to dispute the idea that "H/Many" is a "lie." The plan from the beginning was to have Harry date/have relations with multiple girls over the course of the story. Though Harry hasn't done anything with anyone besides Blaise yet, my commitment to H/Many has not wavered. That said, this is why I edited the story description thing to say "eventual H/Many," so that people are warned that He doesn't instantly start shagging everything in sight.
To Mojtaba13: I hope the last scene with Hermione cleared up your question about "why doesn't Harry just learn Occlumency?" I hate stories where Harry just gets a good book on Occlumency from Hermione and is instantly a Master Occlumens within a week or something absurd. If Occlumency were that easy, why wouldn't everyone do it? Why would Snape be such a valuable asset? Harry is learning Occlumency alongside Hermione, but Occlumency takes years to master to the level they would need, and they needed a much faster solution.
Frequently Asked Question: HAREM?!
-This sort of ties into my response to ChaosRune, but is distinct enough to be put into its own category. The short answer is that there will not be a "harem" as in the traditional Harem!Harry story. By that, I mean that you aren't going to see a situation where Hermione marries Harry and becomes Lady Potter, and then Blaise marries him and becomes Lady Black, or anything like that. In fact, no one will get married at all in this story.
Now, what may happen (I haven't yet decided, but everyone should have noticed that I've been building this up so I at least have the option later) is that Harry could be involved in a more informal sort of multi-way relationship at some point. But if you're looking for a story where Harry binds half the female sixth-years into concubine contracts or something, that ain't happening here.
Alright, that's all for this time! Be sure to LEAVE REVIEWS and check out my Wordpress blog "Supremo Stories"! And follow me on twitter!
Until next time,
Lord Supremo