Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit.
Acknowledgments: Rpeh for the Beta work.
Chapter 25
Harry slid down the stairs, tripping over an invisible step as the descended down toward the entrance hall. He turned one last corner and saw the black-cloaked figure as she strode toward the exit of the castle. His heart stopped as he stared at her.
He didn't say anything, but she turned nonetheless as if she knew he was there. She raised her brows and looked over at him as he stepped up toward her.
"You are not supposed to be here," Emily said. "You are supposed to be heading back to your common room after your detention with McGonagall."
"Why are you here?" he asked, ignoring that she knew exactly what he was doing before she came.
"Harry, it is imperative that you get back to your common room quickly. You will want to be where people know where you are. And the more people that can identify you there, the better," Emily said.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Plausible deniability," Emily said.
"What did you do?" Harry asked.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself about," Emily said. "But you will not need to worry about detention with Professor Umbridge any longer."
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"She killed herself," Emily said. "With a blood quill. Very sad. I'm sure there will be mourning and a funeral and the ministry will be quite upset with everything."
"Why would she do that? That doesn't sound like her at all," Harry said, sounding genuinely confused at the statement.
"Well she had some help," Emily said. "But you really should be back in your common room, Harry. I don't want anyone to implicate you in this. You need an alibi, you will be the first one the ministry suspects."
"Wait, you killed her?!" Harry yelled.
"Yell that a little louder, would you?" Emily glared at him.
"Why would you do that?" Harry asked.
"Because she's a horrible person and the world is a better place for it," Emily said.
"You're not the judge of that!" Harry hissed.
"Well no one else seems to want the job," Emily said. "Anyway, I figured you'd be happy with this. Given that she's a totally incompetent and useless teacher."
"That doesn't mean that she should die," Harry frowned and it occurred to him that he was defending Professor Umbridge. He did, however, manage to resist the urge to vomit into his mouth.
"She also watched Slytherin students torture and attempt to murder you before she remembered that healers can tell if a body was stunned or coherent when magic hit it," Emily said. "That was pretty much the tipping point."
"How can you possibly know that?" Harry asked.
"It's like you forget I have a mole in the school," Emily said. Harry frowned and stared at her for a moment, shaking his head. How could Professor Snape have gotten that information to her? Or even known that information? Did he see far more than he let on or did he simply believe everything they said?
"Snape told you what happened to me?" he asked.
"Of course," Emily lied. "He tells me everything that goes on at the castle that may be of interest to me. A handful of students being casually beaten into submission is certainly something of interest. And then having a professor watch as a group tortures a student. That is another interesting event."
"So, you came and attacked Umbridge because of what she did to me?" Harry asked.
"Among other things. It was, as they say, her third strike," Emily said.
"What were the other two?" Harry asked.
"Using a blood quill on students is a heinous enough crime as is. I am honestly shocked that her method of detention did not leak in some way. I wonder how many letters to the editor the Prophet had to suppress. I cannot imagine that news of that didn't slip out somehow," Emily explained.
"And?" Harry asked.
"And she sent the dementors after you over the summer," Emily said.
"What?" Harry gasped.
"Lucius actually found the order. It will be revealed in the paper tomorrow morning. Which will lend credence to her shameful suicide. And probably call into question Fudge's capabilities as Minister given his educational appointment turned out to be a sadistic madwoman," Emily said.
"So, Dumbledore will get to return?" Harry asked, sounding rather hopeful. Emily made a face at the mention of Dumbledore but her expression quickly composed itself.
"I would doubt it," she responded. "He would simply have to answer questions as to why he allowed for that as well. As Dumbledore was not very vocal in his fight against the ministry when they appointed her."
"Well what's he doing then?" Harry asked.
"I could only guess. But I have a hunch he's searching for some of my possessions," Emily said.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Because he wants them, one would assume," Emily said. Harry immediately got the feeling she wasn't going to talk any more of that. He could feel her impatience with him in that moment. She was too polite to just turn and leave, but she no longer wanted to be there. He frowned and kept staring at her, a thousand questions rushing through him.
"Still," he said, steering the conversation back to where it was before. "All of those things were strikes perpetrated against me. It seems like you did that for me."
"I had my own reasons, Harry. She hindered my Phe—She hindered my plans quite a bit and she needed to pay for that. It just took some time to find a suitable solution and time to enact said solution," Emily said. "But you should really head back to your common room and I should really be going."
"Take me with you, Em," he blurted out. The words slipped from him before he even knew he said them. He stared at her, his mind racing with the implication of what he'd just said. He wondered if she'd laugh, scoff at him, or tell him he was an idiot. He hoped she'd give him that long, hard stare of hers and then sigh in that annoyed way she did before shrugging her shoulders and saying 'fine'.
She didn't do any of those things. Instead her eyes narrowed and her expression darkened considerably.
"My name is Emily," she said sternly. "If you do not like it, you can call me Lord Voldemort."
"I…uhm…sorry…Emily," Harry muttered. He couldn't help but look away from her as he felt the flush rise up to his face.
"And you traveling with me would not help the suicide narrative. It would be quite suspicious if you were to vanish after she admitted to torturing you in her suicide note," Emily said.
"She did what?" Harry blinked.
"You will find out in the morning," Emily said.
"Everyone will think I did it anyway," Harry said.
"Maybe. But if you hurry back you have an alibi in place coming from the most respected professor at the school as long as you make it back to your dormitory in a timely manner. I highly suggest that if it comes up you say you had to wait on a staircase to move back or avoid Peeves rather than mentioning this meeting," Emily said.
"It's not like they'd believe me," Harry said.
"They might," Emily shrugged. "It might be enough to sway them toward my return rather than admitting their incompetence."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"I don't know," Emily said. "But I need to be going, Harry."
"When will I see you again?" he asked, blushing more at the words.
"I suspect the next time you look into my diary," she said with a slight smirk before pulling her hood back up and slipping from the great hall.
Harry paused and wondered why he was letting her leave. There was so much he could have done, so many things he could have changed, by getting other people to realize she was alive. But he let her go instead.
Deep down he knew he should have told someone about Umbridge. A sinking feeling filled him when he thought of it. But he also knew that if he told anyone that would simply cast suspicion on him.
So instead of doing the right thing, he did exactly what he was told. The thought bothered him. But that didn't prevent him from pushing those thoughts from his head and returning to Gryffindor tower.
He entered just moments before it would be considered after hours. The common room was still rather crowded. Harry scanned it for his friends. Ron was half asleep in an armchair, the remnants of what looked like a transfiguration assignment resting on his lap and a quill slowly slipping from his fingers.
Harry didn't see Hermione anywhere, but that didn't surprise him. She'd been going to bed earlier than usual in the last couple of weeks. He spent a few moments answering questions from younger students on if he'd restart Dumbledore's Army in the coming weeks.
He hadn't really thought about doing so since they'd been discovered by Umbridge. But he suddenly realized that if Emily hadn't been lying to him, Umbridge wasn't around to stop him.
He'd give it a few days, he figured, see what the mood was, and then try to set up another meeting. After that he'd just see who showed up.
He saw Fred and George testing some of their products in the corner of the room. They'd grown a bit more ambitious with their products in the wake of Hermione's incident. Harry frowned at them. He knew he should probably scold him but instead he just joined them in testing their products.
They tested things for an hour or so. Harry found himself all manners of ill in that time, but thankfully they always managed to fix whatever issues their candies caused. It turned out to be rather fun, with most of the common room joining in before Harry excused himself to bed.
When he rejoined Emily that night her pattern didn't change. She continued her spree of wanton murder of people she disapproved of. Harry expected that there were likely articles in the muggle paper about a serial killer. But he wasn't going to go back and look.
He kept watching regardless despite the fact that he wasn't really sure he wanted to keep it up. Eventually, as she stepped toward another of those meetings of old purebloods he left the diary and drifted off to sleep.
The next day brought chaos at Hogwarts. Harry found himself quite tense at breakfast. No one else seemed to pay any real attention to Umbridge's absence. After breakfast he walked slowly to Transfiguration.
He was only partially paying attention to McGonagall's lecture when Professor Flitwick burst into the room. Professor McGonagall looked rather annoyed at the intrusion but it only took her a moment to seem to realize something was completely and utterly wrong.
"What do you think that's about?" Ron asked as the two professors stepped into the hallway to talk.
"No idea. Probably nothing good judging from the look on Flitwick's face," Harry said. He looked over at Hermione and frowned as he saw she was just staring down at the textbook. Ron was gazing over toward the doorway. Harry reached out under the table and took Hermione's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Hermione practically jumped out from her seat but after a deep breath she relaxed and held onto his hand. Moments later McGonagall stepped back into the room.
"Class is dismissed. Head back to Gryffindor tower immediately," McGonagall said.
"What?" Ron blinked. Harry figured that would have been his immediate reaction too if he wasn't at least acutely aware of what the reasoning for the dismissal was. It was fairly hard to imagine anything that could force McGonagall to let them go early.
"Why?" Lavender Brown asked.
"You will be informed in due time," McGonagall said. "For now, you are dismissed."
"Yes professor," Dean Thomas said as the Gryffindors left transfiguration. Harry lagged behind, waiting for Hermione to pack up her books. Ron, Dean and Seamus left almost instantly, as if they were concerned their head of house would change her mind. As he finished packing his own books, McGonagall spoke again.
"Wait a moment, Mister Potter," she said. He and Hermione froze. Harry turned to back to McGonagall. "You can leave, Miss Granger." Hermione hesitated but did step outside of the class room.
"Yes Professor?" Harry asked.
"After you left my office last night what did you do?" she asked.
"I went back to the common room," Harry said. He frowned and hoped that didn't make him seem guilty. Except, he thought, that was stupid. While he knew what happened, he wasn't involved at all in it. He wasn't guilty of it.
"And can anyone corroborate that?" she asked. Harry blinked at her.
"Well I mean I helped Colin with his charms homework and then did some stuff with Fred and George," Harry said. "Why?"
"Let me see your hands," she said, stepping up to him.
"Why?" Harry asked again. But he didn't disobey her. He held his hands up, there was nothing in them. She reached out and took both of them in her own and turned them over slowly. Eventually, she ran her thumb over the scarring from Umbridge's blood quill.
"Why did you not inform anyone of this?" she asked.
"I was told to stay out of her way," Harry said. McGonagall winced as she'd been one of the many who had told him that. "And it seemed easier to just do the detentions and be done with it. I haven't had one in months. Since after the quidditch fiasco,"
"Do you know if she did this to anyone else?" McGonagall asked.
"Lee Jordan had similar scars about a month ago. I suggested dittany to him to make them hurt less," Harry said. McGonagall nodded and waved her wand. A slip of paper appeared and she handed it to him.
"Thank you, Mister Potter. Head back to the common room now and tell mister Jordan that I would like to see him. Give him that pass so no one gives him trouble in the halls. In fact, have Mister Weasley escort him. The prefects will be on hallway duty I suspect."
"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Can I help with anything?"
"The best thing you can do right now is stay out of sight," she said. "Go back to the common room."
"Okay, Professor," Harry said. He stepped out into the hallway. Hermione was waiting for him, leaning against a nearby wall. She didn't say anything as she stepped into line next to him. They walked back to the common room in silence.
Harry found Ron and sent him and Hermione off to find Lee Jordan and then off to join the other prefects and rejoin McGonagall. Harry sat in the common room and waited. He wanted to go up to his room to bury himself in Emily's memories. But he knew at some point that someone would come and question him. So, he stayed out of the dormitory.
Instead he did the rest of his homework. A few house elves showed up around lunch time with a spread of food and the Gryffindors devoured it all, still wondering exactly what had happened that forced them to be sequestered into the tower.
The seventh year prefects returned just before dinner time and escorted the entire class down to the great hall where Minister Fudge stood next to Percy Weasley and a couple of Aurors that Harry only recognized by the department badges on their robes. Harry barely listened as the Minister of Magic explained, to much gasping and general confusion from the students, that Dolores Umbridge was dead.
It took him a few moments to explain her suicide. He encouraged any students who were forced to suffer physical torture at her hands to come forth to their head of house in the coming days.
After that he announced that Percy Weasley would be stepping in, in an interim capacity, to the recently vacated professorship and High Inquisitor role until the ministry could assess the situation accurately.
"Seriously?" Ron sighed at Percy's introduction.
"Well he's less likely to give a speech about it, I think," Harry said.
"You don't know Percy that well," Ron frowned.
"Maybe he'll actually teach something?" Harry amended.
"Maybe," Ron sighed. "But I doubt it. I overheard them talking earlier. They don't think it was a suicide. But they still couldn't find anything that indicated it wasn't."
"She doesn't strike me as the type to kill herself," Harry said. "But at the same time, who in the castle would have actually killed a professor?"
"They think you did," Ron said.
"Nope, not me," Harry said. "But for some reason that doesn't shock me."
"Didn't shock me either," Ron said. "I overheard something else, too."
"Did you do any patrolling, brother, or did you just eavesdrop outside their meeting?" George asked
"If you didn't want me to eavesdrop you wouldn't have invented extendable ears," Ron retorted.
"A valid point," Fred nodded.
"And here we thought you were thinking of toeing the straight and narrow. Just for that we'll give you a freebie from the next batch," George added.
"What were they saying?" Harry asked.
"Fudge wants Percy to get something from you," Ron said. "They weren't being specific. But it was like you had something that the ministry wanted and he wanted Percy to try to get it from you."
"Weird," Harry said.
"I thought so too," Ron said. "I thought maybe the invisibility cloak, but does Fudge even know you have that?"
"No idea," Harry said. "That's news to me."
"It was weird," Ron said. "They were implying that you would have to give it to them or get it for them or something. I suspect Percy will be unbearable. He was never very subtle."
"Well I look forward to that," Harry sighed as he speared some chicken onto his plate.
"The easiest way to deal with Percy was always just agree to whatever he was saying and then get out of wherever he is," Ron said. "If that helps at all."
"It might," Harry said.
"Still, hopefully he'll have us do something more than read that stupid text book," Dean Thomas said from across the table.
"I doubt he will. I'm sure the ministry decided the curriculum. I imagine the lessons will be just as boring," Harry said
"I hope not, that would just be awful," Ron said. They continued to complain about the fact that there was simply a new ministry appointed defense teacher, completely forgetting the grave situation that led to it, for the rest of the evening.
Harry found himself rather confused that no one from the ministry approached him about Umbridge. But, then again, maybe he was being arrogant to assume he was that important to their cause. He figured it was best to not dwell on it one way or another and instead decided to simply go to bed.
He rejoined Emily at one of the supremist meetings, as he'd taken to calling them. He watched a rather well dressed old man stand at a podium and pontificate in a way that reminded him rather annoyingly of Umbridge.
They walked in late. Emily slid on to a bench at the back and started watching. She looked rather bored by the proceedings. Harry watched as she took out her wand and started to file her nails with magic, examining them every couple of moments until she had them how she liked them. After that, she wiggled her fingers and the polish on her nails changed. She settled on a dark green before turning her attention back to the podium.
The man standing there lectured on about how muggle born people were taking control of the ministry, and how their way of life was being threatened. Emily rolled her eyes at a few of the statements as others nodded and cheered.
Harry stepped away from Emily and wandered around the room. He paced between the seats to try to see if he could recognize anyone. A lot of them all looked vaguely familiar and it didn't take him very long to figure out just who's grandparents everyone was. Although the man lecturing didn't remind him much of anyone.
Something felt off for a moment. He looked around trying to figure it out, but nothing came to him. He felt warmer, he thought. And for a moment like it was harder to move. Like something was pinning him down. Like he was trapped.
His eyes flashed around the memory, looking for something that could be holding him there, looking for anything that could be the cause of what he was now feeling. He wondered to himself if this was all just some sort of elaborate trap that had finally been sprung on him.
But that didn't make sense. Why would she have waited until this point, after countless hours buried in the diary, for something malicious to happen to him? That just didn't sound right. It had to be something else. But what could it be?
He gave up. He knew it couldn't be something in the memory. He knew it had to be something outside of the memory. So, he started to prepare himself to leave. He turned back toward where Emily was seated and then laughed.
Hermione Granger stood next to Emily. She was looking around, looking very confused at the entire scene before her. To Harry's surprise, she was wearing a short nightgown and looked rather sheepishly at him.
"Hello, Hermione," he said, stepping up toward her.
"Hi," she said quietly. She blushed and looked away from him.
"What did you do?" he asked.
"You said if I snuck in and joined you I could watch the memories," Hermione said. She crossed her arms over her chest as if trying to cover herself. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that her pajamas showed more leg than anything else. He wondered if she simply hadn't thought about what memory her would be wearing. Or if she hadn't realized she'd have an avatar inside the diary.
"I did say that," Harry said. He stepped toward her and then stood next to her, doing his best to not make her think he was staring at her. Then again, he was only wearing a shirt and boxers. But he guessed it was different for a girl.
"So, I snuck in with your cloak," Hermione said. "And you were just there looking dazed staring at the open book. I didn't know if shaking you would get your attention or anything like that. Instead I closed the curtains, crawled in, pulled the covers up, and joined you."
"I see that," Harry said. "That must explain why it seemed to get warmer in here for a moment right before I noticed you."
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah it seems normal now," he said. "But for a moment I felt sort of trapped."
"I can go out and move," she blushed and looked away from him.
"It's fine," Harry said.
"Is that Draco's grandfather?" Hermione asked, pointing at the man she'd just faced while looking away from him. Harry looked at an aged man with white-blonde hair.
"Probably," Harry said.
"What is this?" she asked, looking around. "That looks like a younger version of the person of Sirius's mom."
"A magical supremist meeting, I guess. Purebloods that do a lot of whining about everyone else. It probably is Sirius's mother," Harry said.
"Why are we watching it?" she asked.
"Because she's here," Harry said, gesturing to Emily. Hermione looked over toward her and it all clicked.
"Oh," she gasped. Then frowned at the young woman not paying attention to the speaker.
"She looks bored. What is she doing here?" Hermione asked.
"I don't know," Harry said.
"Does she come to these things often?" Hermione asked, gazing up at the podium where the same man was still preaching.
"Since her husband died," Harry said.
"How'd that happen?" Hermione asked.
"Shot," Harry said as Emily rose from her bench.
"Enough," she said, stepping toward the podium. Her voice resonated with more power than Harry would have expected. He knew she had to be amplifying it with magic. But, he didn't know how she could be doing that.
"Excuse me, miss," the speaker said. Emily held up her left hand and made a swatting motion with her wrist. The man flew away from the podium and impacted on the wall.
"Woah," Hermione said.
"Listen to you all. It's pathetic. Every week you gather, you feast, you drink, and you whine. And what does it accomplish?" she asked. A few men rushed toward where the man had impacted on the wall. Most, though, just stood and stared at Emily. More than half of them drawing their wands.
"Emily," Burke said quietly, attempting to move through the crowd toward her.
"Nothing," she said. "You accomplish nothing. You promote the same stagnation that has plagued you since before Victoria. You're living in the wrong century. You are content to complain. But can't be bothered to better your world."
"I don't know who you think you are," a Malfoy said. Harry could identify him easily enough by the long platinum blonde hair and the sneering expression. Emily waved her hand at him and speech stopped. He started gagging, and then coughing up blood, before she waved her hand again and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.
"It's time you learned your lesson," Emily said quietly, surveying the entire room. "It's time that you understand. The only one worth relying on is yourself. Your gatherings accomplish nothing. They don't even further your own naive agendas."
"Call the Aurors," the woman who could have only been Sirius's mother said. Emily raised her eyebrows.
"You don't even listen to your own rhetoric. The ministry is corrupt. The ministry is filled with mudbloods and problems. The ministry needs drastic change. That man was just speaking about that. Yet at the first sign of a problem, you call for their aid. They couldn't help you anyway," Emily said.
"Enough with this," a gruff man that reminded Harry of Gregory Goyle said. "Let's shut her up." There were murmurings of agreement and flashes of light. Spells fired in every direction toward Emily and the podium. Harry couldn't even identify the number of curses directed toward her. Still, the whole affair was over before it really began.
"What just happened?" Hermione gasped as she looked around the room. No one was standing. Emily was sitting on the podium, her legs crossed, looking completely unfussed by the entire situation. She was looking down at her nails, her wand nowhere to be seen.
Everyone else was in a varying degree of broken and strewn across the room. They were moaning, grabbing at limbs, gasping for air. Harry was convinced at least three of them were dead.
"Long version or the short version?" Harry asked.
"Long version," Hermione said. She stepped toward a few of the bodies and examined them carefully. Harry could tell she was getting used to the ghost feeling of it all. It had taken him a few times too, to understand fully that they couldn't see them.
"Well she stepped toward the podium as they started to curse her. The big one that looks like Goyle, she broke his wrists with a quick bit of casting and then used his body to shield the blasting curse from the small one that looks like Nott. Sirius's mom tried to cast some type of jelly legs curse I think, she just reflected it back. After that she used the killing curse on tho-"
"Short version," Hermione interrupted.
"She won," Harry said.
"Against all of them, that quickly?" Hermione asked.
"Time is a little funky in here. But yes," Harry said.
"How?" Hermione laughed.
"I was trying to explain that and you decided you wanted the short version," Harry said. Hermione walked back over to him just so she could swat him.
"Look at you all," Emily laughed, her dimple on prime display. "Incapable of doing anything much more than grovel before me. A dirty half-blood."
"What?" Hermione laughed.
"Her dad was a muggle," Harry said.
"But why would she admit that?" Hermione asked.
"Don't know," Harry said.
"Entirely at my mercy," she laughed. "How that must gall you. But it's no matter. It, like your other inane ideas, can be fixed easily enough."
"She couldn't possibly," Hermione gasped as Emily opened her arms. The room seemed to warm for a moment and then the noise of injured people faded away. It still took them a couple of moments to orient themselves as they sat on the floor and looked up at her on the podium.
"Challenge accepted," Harry laughed.
"That's," Hermione gasped, at a loss for any further dialogue.
"Incredible," Harry agreed.
"Now are we going to listen or do we need more of a demonstration?" Emily asked. Two men got shakily to their feet and ran to the door. She knocked them over with a wave of her hand.
"What do you want?" the Malfoy said.
"I want you to start acting on what you preach about," Emily said. "Except I don't care about the dirtiness of blood, as you have come to describe it. Our society has the power to better the world, to change the world, but instead we hide behind a façade and cower in meetings like this."
"We are not cowering," Sirius's mom scoffed.
"Yes, you are," Emily said. "You're cowering from me right now. And you're cowering from the muggle filth you claim to hate. You're afraid."
"We are not," a man Harry didn't recognize said.
"Yes, we are," another added. "We hide from them every chance we get."
"And we grow stagnant," Emily said. "They have created weapons that could destroy every last one of us, and we have done nothing about it. Every day they advance to levels we can barely comprehend. A hundred years ago it took them days to traverse this country. Now they can travel around the world in hours."
"I was always fascinated by how much technology developed during the Victorian Era," Hermione said. "I can only imagine what Wizards thought of the advent of the car and shooting rockets into space and-"
"Trying to listen, Hermione," Harry laughed.
"Sorry," she blushed.
"They've put objects into space. Objects that float around the planet and take pictures of things from the sky. Objects that can scan cities, and for all we know will be able to identify us. There's even talk of going to the moon. Of putting people there. Of building a civilization there," Emily continued.
"That's impossible," a man laughed.
"A hundred years ago the atomic bomb was an impossible idea. If it was even an idea at all," Emily said. "They are advancing at rates we can hardly imagine. If we let them continue to do so, they will discover us on their own. And they will destroy us."
"So, what would you do about it," someone said from the crowd.
"Magic is superior, but only if we make it so. We must fight to save ourselves. We cannot allow them to overtake us. We must unite on a platform. Your old prejudices are pointless. Magic must be brought to the forefront," Emily said. "And we must use that to control them."
"Control them?" the Malfoy asked.
"Yes. Control them. We must infiltrate them and use their own systems to rein them in. The vile and the corrupt should be removed by any means necessary. We must better the world to save ourselves from them, or they will wipe us out," Emily said.
"That's not the talking points I'd expect from a Pureblood supremist," Hermione said.
"She's a halfblood," Harry said.
"Still, she's wrong. Muggles haven't harmed wizards in ages," Hermione said.
"Maybe," Harry shrugged.
"Oh, don't tell me you believe her," Hermione laughed.
"I don't know what I believe," Harry said. Hermione turned her gaze away from Emily and just stared at him for a few moments, her brows furrowed.
"What has she done to you?" Hermione asked. "What has she shown you that has you actually taking her side." Harry didn't comment.
"So why are you here?" a man asked.
"Because I can't do it alone," Emily said. "It's time for you to make a decision. I've already proven I'm stronger than you. And I'm half of the thing you hate most. You know that magical blood, in any form, is superior. Do you want to strive for a better world, one where we can live freely and without worry? I do. I made a promise that I would make this world better. And I am going to do it. The way we do it is by removing those who are content with the status-quo. So, it's up to you all. Will you follow me?"
"You are proposing a world where we control the muggles? Where we aren't forced to hide in small sections of cities or worry about a government hounding us for any tiny mistake? Where I won't have to worry about my infant son accidentally transfiguring a muggle boy that harasses him?" one man said.
"Yes," Emily responded. "A world where magic reigns supreme. A world where we use magic to better everyone. And a world where those with magic are treated with the respect that they deserve."
"I'm with you," the man agreed readily. He was a young man, probably just a few years older than her. A woman hissed at him from the crowd but he didn't face her.
"Your name?" she asked.
"Ignatius Avery," he responded.
"Welcome Avery," Emily said. And then she smiled at him. Avery blushed as she did, her dimple on prominent display. Harry watched as the mood in the room changed purely because of one defector.
They all slowly migrated toward her. They all joined her. There was a brief moment when a few seemed to oppose her as they noticed that three of their compatriots were dead. She scoffed at their annoyance and explained their crimes.
Some concerned murmuring accompanied her explanation of behavior that would not be tolerated.
"What happened to her?" Hermione asked as Emily addressed the crowd.
"I don't know," Harry said. "Whatever it was happened before the diary starts. If I had to guess I'd say some pretty severe childhood abuse,"
"That's awful," Hermione frowned. Harry looked over at her and saw her distant, confused expression as she contemplated something in her own thoughts.
"Feeling bad for Lord Voldemort?" Harry asked.
"I guess not. But still, no one should have to go through that," Hermione said.
"I had to go through that," Harry responded. "I don't know if it was the same but I spent the first eleven years of my life locked in a tiny closet and was beaten for doing anything wrong. Or when they were bored."
"I know. And it's still wrong. And I'm sorry that you had to suffer that. And I'm sorry that she had to suffer that," Hermione said.
"Does it excuse killing multiple people here? And the plenty more she's killed over the years too?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure what he expected the answer to be. But she'd asked him what he'd seen. And if that changed his views. And in the end, it saddened him that the best response he could come up with was merely three words: I don't know.
"No, Hermione responded. "But that doesn't mean it isn't awful."
"True," Harry said.
"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," Emily said. "It's time we discuss our first steps toward our goal."
"What do we do?" a man who identified himself as a Rookwood asked.
"We sit and we discuss our agenda," Emily said, she waved her hand over the room, the many smaller tables merged into one and she moved to stand at the head of it. "And when we have hammered that out, we will enact it. Now come, let us begin."
"This is not what I imagined the first Death Eater meeting to be like," Harry said as the discussions commenced. They talked about everything. Political issues that Harry wouldn't have even thought were issues they would discuss.
"Me either, but she does need to win them over," Hermione said. "And she's doing that. Look at the men they can't keep their eyes off of her. She has them hanging on her every word already."
"I guess," Harry said. He frowned as his eyes traced over the enraptured men. The discussions flashed by but they did eventually settle into agreement.
"Good," Emily smiled brightly, her dimple flashing, as they squared away the last issue.
"Excuse me, my Lady," Avery said as they finished. Her expression darkened at the pronoun. "But what do we do now?"
"Now we pursue our goals," Emily said. "Many of you are in positions of power within the government. You will push these agendas forward. If you meet any resistance you will inform me and I will deal with the problem. We will infiltrate, we will spread our ideals, and we will spread our vision across this country."
"Yes, mistress," Rookwood said. Again, Emily's eyes flashed over toward him, annoyance clear on her face. Most of the people present didn't notice, they were too busy slapping the table in approval at her words.
"No," Emily said as they quieted down.
"No what?" Avery asked.
"I am not your Lady. I am not your Mistress. You already have those in spades. And every one of you thinks of both of those as sexual objects," Emily said.
"That is not true," a Crabbe stated.
"It is," Emily countered. She slid her hand up to her hair and plucked her wand from it. "I can see into your minds easily enough. Too easily, you're all rather loud. And no, Black, I will not ever do that to you and if you think it again I will remove the appendage you're picturing and have you do it to yourself."
"She can't possibly be in all of their heads," Hermione said.
"I've come to just believe her when she says things," Harry said. "I mean she may be bluffing, but, why take the risk?"
"My La-" Black said as his wife smacked his shoulder.
"Crucio," Emily said, leveling her wand on the man. He shrieked and collapsed out of his chair. Emily removed the spell from him and he rose to his feet, his face flushed with anger.
"How dare-" he started.
"Save your blustering. You know you'd lose," Emily said.
"If you are not our Lady," Avery interrupted. Harry noticed he'd taken the seat at her right hand. She didn't take her eyes off of Black as he spoke.
"If you must be formal then I am your Lord," Emily said. "I am your master now. I can be benevolent. We agree on what will make this world better. And I will be the one to facilitate that change. But make no mistake. I will never belong to any of you."
"Yes, My Lord," Avery nodded.
"Good," Emily said.
"I'm tired," Hermione yawned from his side. "How do we exit the book?"
"Just close your eyes and think that you'd like to leave. It will take you right out," Harry said. Hermione nodded and closed her eyes. Harry debated staying in and watching the remainder of the meeting. But something told him it would be for the best if he saved that for another day. So, he closed his eyes as well and let the feeling of his bed beneath him return.
He came back to Hermione laying with her head next to his on the pillow. She was looking rather sheepishly down at herself. Harry figured it was probably best to not leer too much at her in that moment.
Harry closed the diary and leaned over toward his bedside table, pulling back the curtains just enough to place the book on the table and glance around. All of the other boys had the curtains closed as well and there was no noise coming from the room. He placed his lion-dog on top of the book and activated it.
"Is that a Komainu?" Hermione gasped. Harry winced at the noise and quickly grabbed his wand from the table cast a quick silencing charm before pushing the curtains closed.
"And you're the one who was worried about getting caught in bed?" Harry teased as wormed his way under the covers. Hermione looked away from him, her face flushing a deep crimson.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"It's fine," Harry said. "And yes, it is."
"Where in the world did you get that?"
"Emily gave it to me for Christmas," Harry said.
"What?" Hermione hissed.
"While we were in Chicago," Harry said.
"And you use it? She could be using it to spy on you or something," Hermione said.
"I don't think she is," Harry shrugged, growing slightly annoyed that he had stopped watching the diary to be lectured about Emily.
"But you can't know that," Hermione gasped.
"I can't. You're right. But the thing tried to attack her whenever it was on and she was around," Harry said.
"That should just be an alarm itself," Hermione frowned.
"Probably," Harry said. "But either way the thing is damn useful. I should have probably tried using it in the Room of Requirement as added security but it never really occurred to me."
"I don't know if that would have helped," Hermione frowned. "To be able to guard whole rooms like that they need to be much bigger."
"That's what she said," Harry nodded.
"What was it like to actually live with her?" Hermione asked quietly.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Well, like, what did you do? She's a murderer Harry. I can't imagine that being forced into a building with her would be anything short of terrifying."
"The hang-over cure she brewed was pretty terrifying," Harry said.
"You have to be joking," Hermione frowned.
"No, we got pretty drunk for the New Year," Harry said.
"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "You're fifteen!"
"Yeah, well, it was still a good time," Harry said.
"That sounds so wrong. How can you have a good time with Lord Voldemort? She hates you! She tried to kill you," Hermione said.
"Well she didn't try to kill me at all in Chicago," Harry said.
"So, what did you do on a daily basis then?" she asked.
"Well we took turns making breakfast. Then we'd wander around the city or something. We did a few of the museums and a little bit of shopping," Harry said.
"You are wearing nicer shirts sometimes now," Hermione said, mostly to herself, as if solving a mystery that had been rattling around in her head.
"Thanks to Narcissa Malfoy's line of credit," Harry laughed, finding that thought far more amusing than he had when Emily had forced him to the store.
"Really?" Hermione giggled. "You should thank her for that."
"Probably," Harry said. "Maybe right after I apologize for crippling their son."
"Right," Hermione frowned. "That would put a damper on things."
"Pomfrey told me he should recover," Harry said.
"You sound almost disappointed," Hermione responded.
"I guess a little," Harry sighed.
"That's awful," Hermione frowned.
"Yes," Harry said. "But you know Draco. Once he's back he'll just be more of a cock and try to get even regardless. It'll be a hassle."
"Maybe," Hermione said.
"And I guess he does just really irritate me," Harry admitted. Hermione was quiet for a moment. Harry had expected her to rebuke him, but she didn't. Instead, when she spoke, she changed the subject again.
"Well then, when you weren't shopping or getting irresponsibly drunk with your mortal enemy, what were you doing?" she asked.
"She taught me how to duel," Harry admitted.
"Really?" Hermione seemed surprised by that. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him.
"Yes," Harry admitted. "We spent a lot of time on that. She won dueling titles while at Hogwarts. Competed in tournaments and everything."
"Good for her," Hermione frowned. "Dumbledore did away with those in the fifties. He thought they just fostered violence."
"I wondered why I never saw anything about them," Harry admitted.
"What was it like?" she asked, referring back to the dueling.
"It hurt," Harry admitted. "She's a big believer in showing and not telling. Mostly she kept me on my toes and made me adapt to new spells over and over. It actually really hurt like hell."
"That sounds evil," Hermione said. "See she was hurting you."
"I mean I guess," Harry said. "But she'd heal wounds and make pain potions after. And she'd show me how to do things like that too. I thought it was effective. I feel like I learned how to adapt much faster by being forced to. I don't know if it really helped though. It's not like dueling would help out in a real fight."
"Are you serious?" Hermione giggled. Actually giggled. Harry stared at her looking rather confused.
"What?" he asked.
"You took out like a dozen people in seconds," Hermione said. "While Ron and I barely even managed to get a spell off. And you think it didn't help?"
"I hadn't really thought about it like that," Harry admitted.
"What did you think happened? She asked.
"I don't know," Harry said. "It just seemed so slow when it happened. It was almost like they wanted me to curse them. I guess I just thought they weren't really good."
"Well they hadn't had a couple weeks of apparently intensive training," Hermione said. "Because I felt the same way but on the receiving end."
"I guess," Harry said.
"And I heard what you did," Hermione continued. "And you were using spells that they certainly don't teach here."
"They just sort of came to me," Harry shrugged. "But here I thought you said you were tired. We could still be watching the past but someone wanted to sleep."
"It's confusing where it's at," Hermione frowned. "I feel like I don't have any idea what's going on or what anyone's motivations are."
"Then tomorrow we can go back and watch from the beginning. Unless you wanted to right now?" Harry asked.
"I am actually kind of tired," Hermione said with a pouty frown.
"Alright then, another time and we'll take you back to the idyllic war-torn Britain," Harry said.
"That sentence is an oxymoron," Hermione responded.
"Oh, quiet you," Harry countered. Hermione just rolled her eyes at him. She sat up on his bed, sitting near his waist and staring down at him. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment or two before she finally worked up the courage to speak up.
"Do I have to leave?" she asked. Harry just stared at her. He could tell she was blushing. And she looked like the thought of making eye contact with him at that moment was the scariest thing she could possibly imagine. Harry paused for a moment and then just threw the covers back on one side of the bed.
"Not if you don't want to," Harry said. "But you were the one worried about getting caught and how they would gossip."
"You boys all sleep in on weekends anyway," Hermione said. She took another deep breath. Harry suspected she was trying to calm her own nerves as she did. He just kept his eyes on hers, thinking that the last thing she needed was to feel anything but perfectly safe.
"Well I used to get up for Quidditch, but, you know," Harry said. "Ron still does but he's like a damn zombie."
"Yes, he is not good in the morning, is he?" Hermione asked. But Harry knew she wasn't looking for an answer. Instead she slipped under his covers and cozied up next to him. She was incredibly soft and warm. Harry put one arm loosely around her waist.
"Cozy?" he asked. He could already tell her eyes were going a little bleary. He'd thought, since the incident, that she hadn't really been sleeping well. He'd heard Lavender talking about it to Ginny and Dean too. That she'd always still been awake when Lavender had gone to bed. Although she'd try to make it seem like she wasn't.
"Yes," she whispered. She shifted to press her lips innocently to his cheek before whispering. "Thank you, Harry."
"Any time," he whispered back. She was asleep within moments. Harry had a harder time laying with her mostly on top of him. But after staring at the roof of his bed for long enough he did eventually manage to drift off.