A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.
This story is now being published twice a week, so if you missed the Tuesday update for any reason, you'll want to step back to read that chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Emperor" by Marquis Black. This is a seriously AU story which only takes the barest minimum from the earliest portions of Rowling's original story and turns it into a massive political and military epic spanning the breadth of Europe.
Chapter 37 - Wind of Change
Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Morning.
It had become something of a habit that students had fallen into every morning: check the walls for a new Educational Decree before entering the Great Hall for breakfast. It surprised no one that morning to find Number Twenty-Six: "Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach."
"What do you suppose the purpose of that is?" asked Daphne as all the witches sat down at the Gryffindor table. After the previous night they all felt incredibly refreshed and energized — even Ginny, Hannah, and Padma — and none of them wanted to separate, so they sat at the same table for breakfast without giving it another thought.
"Limit the flow of information to what the Ministry approves of?" Susan suggested. "Limit the amount of contact teachers and students can have with each other?"
"You don't suppose it's targeting us, do you?" Hannah asked in a whisper. "You know... what we do?"
Hermione bit her bottom lip for a moment, then answered, "I doubt it. If they had even an inkling of what's going on, they'd do a lot more than issue a vague decree."
"She's right," Susan said, "so let's keep quiet about that here in public." Hannah blushed and focused on her food.
"None of the teachers look happy," Jasmine noted, "but Hagrid looks the most depressed. No more visits to his hut for tea and a chat, I guess."
"No more visits to Professor McGonagall," Hermione pointed out. "At least, not without risk."
Jasmine's face darkened. Though the others didn't know much about the girls' regular get-togethers with their Transfiguration professor, they knew that all three witches valued those afternoons a lot, and they looked on in sympathy.
"There's nothing in today's Daily Prophet about the attacks," Jasmine said, scowling.
"Maybe it's too soon?" Hannah suggested. "Maybe they want to wait until they know for sure what happened?"
Susan scoffed. "Not having all the facts has certainly never stopped them before. Usually they just speculate, then change their story when more information comes out. They should at least have something in here."
"Not if they are deliberately holding the reports back," Hermione whispered.
Before anyone could comment on that, Professor Snape came over from the staff table and started accosting the two Slytherin witches sitting there. "Greengrass! Davis!" he snapped. "What do you think you're doing here? You should be at the Slytherin table with your housemates. And where were you last night? If you were with Potter you'll regret it, do you hear me? You'll be serving detention with me for so long that—"
"Professor Snape?" Gabrielle interrupted.
"What?" he barked.
"Did ze Headmaster inform you of what Jasmine and Hermione did on Sunday?" she asked. "What zey did to ze Death Eaters who attacked Daphne's home?"
"Of course he did," Snape said peevishly.
"And you also know what zey did to ze Death Eaters who attacked Hermione's home over ze summer?"
Snape stilled and asked in a more controlled voice, "What of it?"
"They seem to be getting better at it, don't you zink?" she responded. "Killing Death Eaters, I mean."
Snape glared at her, but she held his gaze, never blinking and never looking away. Finally he spun on his heel and stalked out of the Great Hall without saying another word.
"Did a fourth-year veela witch just scare the Dungeon Bat out of the Great Hall?" Ron asked in undisguised awe.
"To be fair, she is a pretty intimidating fourth-year veela witch," Neville pointed out as he continued his breakfast. Gabrielle smiled sweetly and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
"True," Ron agreed, apparently remembering some of the special training sessions she'd done with him in October to get him up to speed with his friends. He had initially balked at the idea of a younger witch training him, but she had disabused him of his arrogant assumptions. Fast.
"Gabrielle," Jasmine said quietly, "I'm not sure it was such a good idea to threaten him like that,"
Gabrielle shrugged. "Technically I didn't threaten. I simply reminded him of some of your recent activities. If he chooses to feel threatened by those activities, well..."
On the other side of the Great Hall, Theodore Nott looked angrier and more frustrated than ever.
Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Late Morning.
"I checked on you last night," McGonagall said after keeping Jasmine and Hermione back once Transfiguration ended. "Don't worry — you're not in trouble. The Headmaster left it up to me to decide what to do about all the non-Gryffindors who entered the tower and never left. I decided to let the matter go, considering what had happened to all of you the night before. But that's providing that it doesn't become a regular occurrence. Even inter-house unity can be taken a bit too far."
Both younger witches nodded in agreement, and Hermione said, "Professor Snape was upset at breakfast this morning. He yelled at Daphne and Tracey, then threatened to put them in detention for a long time—"
"Though not to take any points, I noticed," Jasmine interjected.
"I'll have a chat with him," McGonagall promised. "What concerns me more is the portrait I saw hanging in your dorm. Having magical portraits in private areas like that is a serious violation of your privacy. How did it get there? I didn't recognize it."
"Oh, we brought that from... uh, headquarters," Jasmine replied. "She's a Mind Healer who's been helping us. She wanted to come to Hogwarts to help the others. It was a lot worse than what they experienced during that attack on Hogsmeade, and I thought it would be a good idea.
Professor McGonagall considered that. "Very well," she said finally, "I can see the wisdom of providing some counseling, and it probably is better if she remains something of a secret. Just be sure that everyone living in the dorm gives their explicit, verbal consent."
Once they both agreed to this as well, she asked, "Now, how are the two of you doing? I've already heard from Miss Brown, Miss Davis, Miss Patil, and Miss Abbott about what happened to them; and I must say, Miss Davis gave a positively thrilling account about what she saw you two doing at the Greengrass residence."
Hermione groaned; Jasmine put her head in her hand.
"Oh, yes," McGonagall continued avidly, "To hear her tell it, the two of you plus the two Misses Delacour swooped in on the backs of fire-breathing dragons, all clad in golden armor, and by yourselves eliminated an entire army of Death Eaters and dark creatures."
The girls gaped at their professor in abject horror. "Please," Jasmine whispered, "tell me she didn't..."
McGonagall held her earnest expression for another beat, then apparently couldn't take it anymore. She started chuckling, and the girls realized that they had been pranked by their normally stern professor.
"No," she eventually got out, "Miss Davis didn't say anything quite like that. She was, however, quite enthusiastic and made it sound much more exciting than I'm sure it was in reality. I expect it was pretty bad, in fact, and wanted to offer you a chance to talk about it."
"Honestly, we're fine," Hermione assured her. "When it came to the actual fight, we attacked from behind, and they were pretty disorganized. Hannah and Padma have it the worst, given what happened to their families, and of course Tracey's father will be in St. Mungo's for a bit, in addition to losing their home."
McGonagall nodded. "I already intended to keep an eye on them. You'd best be off so you don't miss lunch."
Just before they left the classroom, Hermione turned and gave Jasmine an inquiring look; she, in turn, nodded, and they both returned to stand beside their professor's desk.
"Is something wrong?" McGonagall asked.
"No, but we do have something to tell you," Hermione said. She glanced around nervously for a moment, then stepped close to her professor. "I think you should go talk to the portrait in our dorm. Her name is Elladora Black."
"Why?" McGonagall said with a frown.
"I talked to her this morning and got her permission to tell you, since you're the one who gave it to me."
"Gave it to you?"
"The book," Jasmine explained. "She wrote it."
"Wrote the... oh!" McGonagall froze in shock at the sudden realization of what Hermione meant. "She... really? She did?"
Hermione nodded. "I... well, I told her that you lost someone. Nothing more — honest! Just... just that you lost someone. And that the memory was still difficult for you. She's willing to talk to you about it. She encourages it, actually."
McGonagall went still, not sure how to react.
"I know it's difficult," Hermione went on, stepping a bit closer. "I realize that you must not have ever been able to talk to anyone about her. Not until you told us. You've had to bear an awful lot alone. I'd... well, I'd offer to let you talk to me, but I'm sure you wouldn't feel comfortable doing that." McGonagall gave her a thin smile. "But Elladora is much more appropriate anyway. She'll keep your secrets and... and she'll understand. It would be hard to find anyone who understands nearly as well as her."
McGonagall remained silent for a long while, but eventually she said quietly, "I will... think on that. It's not something I ever imagined I'd do. Or would be able to do."
Jasmine and Hermione both nodded and began heading for the door.
"Miss Granger? Miss Potter?" McGonagall suddenly called out. Her students turned back to face her.
Minerva's mouth twitched as if warring with itself, but there was no mistaking the depth of feeling behind her eyes as she looked at them. "Thank you," she said at last.
The girls smiled at her before continuing out the door, closing it softly behind them.
Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Evening.
Instead of studying in the library as they normally would have, the group met in the Transfiguration classroom, where McGonagall and Flitwick were both waiting for them. Like the last time they had been in a fight, Flitwick wanted to go over their actions to help them not only learn from what they did, but also come to grips with what had been done to them. Unlike last time, they had one of the castle's ghosts wandering through the hallway outside to keep watch for Umbridge.
The review took quite a lot longer than it had after Hogsmeade, but in the end it was clear to everyone that they all felt a lot better — both about the decisions they had made and what they might do differently the next time.
Before the group broke up to return to their own dorms, Jasmine pulled Blaise aside and fixed him with a stern look. "I assume you know what I want to talk to you about?" she asked. Blaise nodded silently. "Good. I need a completely honest answer here. I'm not out to get you or your mother over anything she might have done in the past, and anything you admit to here will be kept in confidence. But I have to know: is my godfather safe with your mother? I mean, if they date or anything? I remember what you told us last term, but... I guess I want to hear it from you explicitly."
"I suppose I can understand that," Blaise said. "Keeping in mind that I'm not privy to every little thing my mother has ever done, I can promise you that to the best of my knowledge, she has never poisoned, cursed, or otherwise set out to murder any of her husbands, nor do I believe that she would do that to a husband — or any other sort of romantic partner, for that matter."
Jasmine felt relieved at hearing that... until she saw the loophole. "You say, 'set out to murder,' but that doesn't quite cover everything, does it?" she said, her eyes boring into him.
Blaise looked a little sheepish. "I think I did mention that she married much older men?" Jasmine nodded. "Well, I used to think that she simply preferred older men. Some do. But at some point it occurred to me that she might have had ulterior motives for those choices."
"Like maybe she was counting on the fact that, sooner or later, they might not be able to... well, survive the night?"
Blaise nodded. "I can't prove it, and I'm quite sure she at least liked her husbands, even if she wasn't head-over-heels in love with them; but it is suspicious."
Jasmine frowned in thought, then said, "But Sirius isn't old, and she was definitely flirting with him."
"That's reinforced my earlier suspicions, because it means she doesn't simply have a preference for older men."
"On the other hand," Jasmine continued, "she might be hoping that Sirius is weakened from his time in Azkaban."
Blaise sighed. "I guess that's not completely out of the question, but..." He looked around uncomfortably. "This is embarrassing. Do I have to say it?"
"If it relates to my godfather's safety around your mother, yes!" Jasmine said emphatically. "He's interested, but only if I can reassure him that he's safe."
Blaise sighed once more, this time heavily. "The things I do for her..." he muttered, then said more clearly, "Your concern would be reasonable if it weren't for the fact that... that she's clearly interested in him physically." When Jasmine looked at him in confusion, he continued, "Do I have to spell it out for you? She kept squeezing his arm muscles. When others aren't looking, she gazes at him like a starving lioness might look at a steak. Dammit, on Monday morning I heard her talking to herself about what a nice chiappe he has!"
"Chiappe?"
"Derriere. Rear end. Buns!"
"Oh!" Jasmine said, growing a bit red. "Really?"
"Yes! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for me to listen to my mother talk wistfully about how firm and tight some bloke's butt looks? Well, it's not nearly as embarrassing as it is to try to explain it to that bloke's all-but-daughter!"
"Sorry," Jasmine said, now looking embarrassed herself. "I guess she wouldn't be doing that if she was hoping that she'd wear him out."
"I should think not," Blaise said a bit indignantly.
"In fact," Jasmine continued, now growing thoughtful, "such comments are much more likely if she was hoping that she'd finally found someone who'd manage to keep up with—"
"Please, don't say it!" Blaise implored her. "I don't need you filling my head with what my mother might be fantasizing about!"
"Sorry," Jasmine said again. "But I have to warn you: if they do hook up, he's not likely to keep quiet about what they, er, get up to."
"He's not?" Blaise asked, blanching.
"Even before he went to Azkaban, I don't think he was the silent type," Jasmine answered. "But now? I expect he'll want to brag to anyone who will listen. And most of those who'd rather not."
"Sweet Merlin," Blaise whispered as he put his head in his hand.
"In fact," Jasmine continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if he made an announcement by taking out an ad in the Daily Prophet."
Tuesday, January 18, 1996, Night.
Albus Dumbledore read the latest issue of the Quibbler with great interest. The fact that it had appeared only when the students returned to the castle after their Christmas holiday reinforced his belief that Miss Potter and Miss Granger, possibly with the help of others, were responsible for smuggling it into the school. He knew, though, that he probably wasn't the only one who would notice that and begin to focus on them as likely suspects.
I wish I had time to work on the runes crossword puzzle, he lamented. The one in the previous issue was quite challenging. Instead, he focused on the articles exploring what might be possible if witches and/or wizards working together could combine their magic when casting spells. This is much, much closer to what happens in magical rituals, he thought, though still not explicit enough to draw condemnation from the Ministry — assuming that these articles are even noticed. More than likely, our Ministry officials will be too preoccupied with the political articles about corruption and censorship.
He reluctantly set the Quibbler aside, knowing there wasn't anything new in there that would help him figure out who was behind the rituals that he was now convinced were destroying Voldemort's horcruxes. Instead, he looked over the DMLE reports about the attacks that occurred on Sunday night — reports which Shacklebolt had had great difficulty in obtaining, for some reason.
Before he could read far, he was startled by a knock at the door. Chiding himself for having missed the warning, he invited the visitor in and was surprised to see that it was his Potions professor.
"Ah, Severus," he said, "I expected Tom to keep you a bit longer."
"By the time I had arrived, he'd punished most of those he blamed for the failures on Sunday night," Snape replied as he held out a stack of books. "This is the material on rituals that I thought I could smuggle out most easily. There is more, but I can't bring too much at once or it might be missed."
"Thank you, Severus, you have no idea how much I appreciate you doing this. Please, just set it on my desk there. I should be able to go through it all for you to return it by the weekend."
Snape nodded as he set the books on the headmaster's desk. "I assume you're still not going to tell me what these books are for?" he asked. "Even the Dark Lord has generally shied away from magical rituals, only resorting to those which he felt were absolutely necessary; and he never, ever delved into the old magics that invoked the ancient deities."
"I can't say anything more than what I told you before — I'm simply pursuing an interesting line of inquiry which might help us against Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "If you're worried, though, I can assure you that I don't intend to hold any rituals like this myself." Snape raised one eyebrow in curiosity but didn't push any further.
"And what of the Lestranges?" Dumbledore continued. "How did Voldemort treat them?"
"He was going to punish them the most harshly," Snape said, "especially since it was Bellatrix's plan from start to finish. However, he realized that despite how much went wrong, and despite the fact that the goals he'd set for the raids hadn't been achieved, she had done better and achieved more than anyone else."
"Fighting into the heart of Madam Bones' home is no small feat," Dumbledore agreed.
"Indeed. The Dark Lord recognized that had you not shown up, she probably would have accomplished her goal of killing the Bones girl, and he could hardly fault her for not being able to defeat you one-on-one while still having several enemies at her back. So she was spared being punished. Much."
"Have you been able to learn yet why he targeted those witches in particular?" Dumbledore asked. "What his interest in them is?"
"Aside from being friends with Potter, there is the fact that most if not all were involved with putting down his attack on Hogsmeade. He seems to have taken that quite badly."
"The fact that they were so successful in fighting off fully-grown wizards once again will likely not diminish his interest. If anything, it will only increase it," Dumbledore said worriedly. "It still disturbs me greatly that you knew nothing of this in advance. It is vitally important that you not tell him anything about any of them, and especially their skills, without checking with me first. And you must certainly not let anything slip about what Miss Potter and Miss Granger managed to do to the werewolves — we must keep him guessing for as long as possible about what Miss Potter is capable of."
Snape nodded. "He won't be able to do much of anything until he rebuilds his forces, and with this latest defeat that has become his primary goal. He's using large amounts of Malfoy gold to recruit wizards and werewolves on the continent, mostly from eastern and southern Europe. At the rate the Dark Lord is going, there soon won't be a Malfoy fortune left."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, having expected something like that for a while. Voldemort wouldn't be able to recruit many in Britain without revealing himself, and he seemed to be delaying that for as long as possible. "Perhaps we will have to send Remus back to the continent to infiltrate the werewolf packs there." He didn't see the glint that appeared briefly in Snape's eye.
"I don't suppose this will finally cause the Minister to admit that the Dark Lord has returned?" Snape asked.
"I'm afraid not. At this point I fear that nothing short of Voldemort showing up in Cornelius' bedroom to curse him personally will cause the man to change his opinion. No, he will continue to deny the truth and has even managed to convince the Daily Prophet to not run any substantive stories about the attacks."
"The Ministry's corruption and shortsightedness are greater weapons for the Dark Lord than a dozen of his best servants," Snape observed, and Dumbledore was forced to agree.
"Do you have any information on his other long-term goals?" Dumbledore asked. "What about that building that he was looking at a few months ago?"
"Nothing, Headmaster."
Their conversation didn't last much longer after that, and soon Snape was back in his dungeon, making plans.
"How long do you think it will be until the plans are finished?" one of the most recent Death Eater recruits asked his trainer as they walked down the hall to the dining room.
The trainer shrugged. "They'll be done when the Dark Lord is satisfied with them. We're assaulting something that's never been captured, much less captured and held. The defenses are formidable to say the least. We simply have to trust that the Dark Lord knows what he's doing, and that he'll develop a plan that is sure to be a success."
The recruit nodded but still looked anxious.
Up on the wall, one of the portraits narrowed his eyes.
Thursday, January 20, 1996, Afternoon.
Later that week, Tonks stood in the middle of the Merry Maidens stone circle in Cornwall with her eyes closed, drinking in the raw power that she could feel as it practically crackled in the air all around her. The ley line running beneath the ancient site was supercharged to the point where she was tempted to consider it dangerous, if it hadn't felt so comforting and inviting. It's weaker than what I felt in Cumbria, she concluded, but still raw and primal.
She took a few deep breaths to center herself, then pulled out the ritual knife which Sirius had lent her. I'm so lucky to be part of a family that not only has something like this on hand, but will lend it out with no questions asked, she thought as she made the prescribed cut across her palm. She formed a fist and held it out over the center of the circle, letting blood drip to the ground. "One for me and my quest," she recited. "Three for the earth that gives us life. Five for the sky that gives us dreams. Seven for Magic that gives us power. Nine for my ancestors that give me guidance."
Once the last drop struck the ground, she quickly bound her hand with a piece of silk and began the long, complex incantation that she'd learned from an ancient book in the family library. It was a tricky piece of magic to pull off, but she had the power and skill, so that hadn't bothered her. The problem was that it required a blood sacrifice and so was classified as blood magic. It didn't matter that the sacrifice was both negligible and her own; it was still condemned by the Ministry. It was only because of her new family connections that she'd be able to get away with it socially, should it become public knowledge, but she'd never save her job.
That's why she had rejected it at first and only returned much later to reluctantly learn it once all of her initial investigations went nowhere. She just hoped that whatever she learned would lead her to clues that she could pass off as having been obtained via acceptable means.
Upon completion of the incantation she dropped to her knees in exhaustion, but she knew she didn't have time to rest. She immediately started looking around for the flashes of images that the spell was supposed to provide. Because of how much time had passed, she assumed that she wouldn't get anything distinct — and the fact that the images were even worse than what she got in Cumbria reinforced her conclusion that whatever had happened, happened here first.
She was also pleased to find that what little she did see was consistent with Cumbria. Multiple people involved, perhaps as many as several dozen... but twenty to thirty at least, she thought as she looked all around a the indistinct, ghostly figures, trying to see as much as she could before the sacrifice burned out. Can't tell male from female. There's an isolated group outside the circle, but I can't tell how big. Lots of power being channeled through here, and that might be the only reason I'm seeing as much as I am.
She stayed there for a while, kneeling in the snow, thinking about what she knew and how much she still needed to find out. One way or another, I need to get to one of these sites soon after things happen, she decided. Only then will I be able to get a solid lead.
Saturday, January 22, 1996, Morning.
"How is everyone feeling?" Jasmine asked members of the study group once they had all gathered in the Room of Requirement. Several gave affirmative responses, but all were looking at her with undisguised curiosity — not merely because it was so rare for her to attend a meeting of the S.P.E.W. leadership, but also because she had been accompanied by the Delacour sisters and Professor McGonagall.
"Hanna, how's your mother doing?" she asked next.
Hanna brightened. "She should be getting out of St. Mungo's soon. She and Dad are going to live with his sister for the time being."
"And your father?" she asked as she turned to Tracey.
"He's walking again," the Slytherin witch responded. "Not fast, but he's walking." She then turned to Luna and added, "Both of them are eager to answer your questions, especially now that it's clear that the Daily Prophet is ignoring what happened."
"My parents are furious," Daphne said. "My father knows someone who works for the Daily Prophet, but they're refusing to return his floo calls. I know he and mother will be happy to be interviewed as well."
"I'm glad to hear that," Luna responded. "I'm disappointed that the Ministry is still downplaying the attacks, but I'm not surprised."
After a few moments of silence, Jasmine cleared her throat and looked around nervously. "I, uh, I guess you're wondering why I'm here. Well, instead of your regular meeting, I, uh, well..."
"Jasmine and I have things we need to tell you," Hermione stepped in to say. "You all probably realize that we've been keeping some things back. Some of it's personal. Some of it hasn't honestly been our secrets to reveal. Well, this morning, we're going to tell you. Partly because we feel it's time, and partly because you should probably hear it before we do any more of the rituals."
"Rituals?" Blaise asked with interest.
"Oh — um, yes, rituals," Hermione replied awkwardly. "We'll get to them in a bit — I promise."
"Just so you know," Jasmine said, "you all are among the first to be told any of this. Few people in the entire world are privy to this information. Needless to say, you'll have to keep it all as quiet as possible. This is part of why we wanted you all to get better with Occlumency — and you have. Lately it's been hard to get through to see what you're thinking, and we've all benefited from getting so much practice with different partners."
"To start with," Hermione continued while taking Jasmine's hand in hers, "the two of us are a couple. A romantic couple. We have been for just over a year, in fact." After taking in the shocked expressions (though noting with relief that no one looked particularly horrified or disgusted), she went on, "But it's much, much more than that."
Together, they said, "Jasmine Dorea Potter and Hermione Jean Granger are a soul-bonded couple."
Of those not already familiar with the story, only Daphne and Padma had any inkling as to what that meant, but once they explained it to the rest, everyone's initial shock was that much greater.
"Is this why you two are so much stronger?" Susan asked.
"Yes," Hermione answered. "Such couples are usually at least a bit stronger than average. Our understanding is that Magic creates soul bonds whenever a couple is destined for some important task. The additional power is Magic's way of ensuring that the couple can do the task."
Before any of them could ask anything else, they were told that there was quite a bit more to explain. The group was first told about the prophecy regarding Voldemort, which surprised no one very much; then about the veela prophecy, which the witches immediately recognized as relating directly to their ongoing efforts with S.P.E.W. as well as the powerful rituals they participated in.
"Just to be clear," Tracey said once their long explanation was done, "you didn't know anything about this prophecy until... when? August? Months after S.P.E.W. was organized?"
"Yes, there was no subterfuge there," Hermione said. "Don't forget that Jasmine wasn't even interested to begin with, and I wasn't a part of the original idea. You all came up with that long before she or I knew anything about any prophecies."
"Though it may not have been a coincidence," Jasmine added.
"What do you mean?" Daphne asked.
"Prophecies aren't understood very well," Hermione explained. "But if you accept the belief that Magic is at least partially sentient, then it makes sense if Magic sends warnings and messages to magical beings, and those messages are treated as prophecies. The only way prophecies and free will can both exist is if we still have choices — if our choices define how or even if a prophecy is fulfilled. Or to put it another way, how or if Magic's warning is heeded or Magic's request is fulfilled."
Everyone nodded, recognizing elements that they'd heard before in other contexts.
"But what if Magic doesn't leave absolutely everything to us?" Jasmine asked. "What if Magic opens up opportunities where we have choices to make — and thus can choose to do something that helps bring a prophecy to fulfillment in one fashion or another?"
"So you're suggesting... what? That Magic encouraged us to form S.P.E.W.?" Tracey asked.
"If anything, I think it's more likely that Magic simply helped the idea form in your minds," Hermione responded. "So once the idea occurred to you, it was still all your choice to run with it, and your choices as to what the group would do. But the opportunity was opened up for you to make that choice."
"Maybe," Jasmine interjected. "Or, it might indeed have been a coincidence. It's an awfully big coincidence if it is, which is why I mentioned that it might not be. It's impossible to prove one way or another."
"Now I'm going to start second-guessing all of my ideas," Padma grumbled. "I'll always worry where they're coming from."
"If you support Jasmine and Hermione's efforts to fulfill ze prophecy," Fleur said, "zen you should always be mindful of ideas or situations zat might help. Instead of being suspicious, you should be open to what is happening around you. You should be open to new opportunities, regardless of where zey come from."
"And that's the big question — or rather questions — you're going to have to answer," Jasmine said. "Will you support us? Can you support us as a couple, despite the fact that wizarding society condemns relationships like ours? The fact that we have a soul bond may make it easier for you in some ways, but it won't for everyone. And you should keep in mind that having such a bond didn't force us into our relationship. People with a potential soul bond don't have to stay together. Ultimately, we're together because we choose it and want it, and you should make your decision based on that."
"You'll also have to decide how much support you'll be able to give our efforts to fulfill the veela prophecy," Hermione continued. "For you, dealing with Voldemort will naturally seem like a bigger concern, and he is the biggest, most immediate threat. However, we personally regard the veela prophecy as a larger extension of what we're already doing in fighting Voldemort and with S.P.E.W."
"Much, much larger," Tracey piped up.
"Yes, there's no denying that," Jasmine agreed. "But so many of the principles and goals will be the same, even if the scope and scale of one is larger. Any effort to achieve one will almost certainly advance the other as well, though maybe not always in recognizable ways."
"This is going to be critical if you choose to continue to participate in the rituals," Hermione said. All of the witches looked a bit surprised, apparently not having imagined that any of them would decline to continue.
Blaise, however, was looking angry. "What rituals?" he exclaimed. "I still have no idea what you're talking about — and I get the impression that I'm the only one. Is this what you girls have been so secretive about since the end of last year?"
"Oh, Blaise, you're right — I'm so sorry," Hermione said sincerely. "Yes, we've been doing them as a group since Midsummer. They're veela rituals, though, so they were only for witches." She then gave him a bit more background about which holidays they had celebrated and what the results had been. Neville had found the whole thing fascinating when they told him, but she was surprised to see that Blaise didn't look particularly mollified.
"Anyway," she addressed the group again, trying to get back on track, "remember that will and intent are keys to all magic, including the rituals. Since you knew less before, your intent was necessarily limited. It didn't include support for us as a couple or our efforts to fulfill the prophecy. If you can't support all that now that you know about it, your intent might contaminate the ritual. On the other hand, if you fully support all of that, then your intent will be enhanced, and that may make the ritual even better."
"We know you have a lot to think about," Jasmine concluded, "but you'll need to make a choice one way or another before we travel to the site of the Imbolc ritual." She paused. "So, uh... does anybody have any questions?"
What followed was a spirited discussion, to say the least. Eventually, however, all the answers that could be given had been, and it was up to each individual to decide how they felt about it. After everyone else had left, Jasmine and Hermione saw that Tracey had hung back and was now approaching them purposefully.
"Hey. I wanted to say... I have to admit, I was as surprised as anyone else about your relationship. I mean, I was raised in magical society, and I know what they think of such things." She paused, and her face became more resolute. "But you know what? Magical society can get stuffed. None of their business anyway." Abruptly she threw her arms around the startled witches in a joint hug. "Congratulations, you two! Ooh, I'm so happy for you!"
Both girls blinked in astonishment for a moment, then recovered enough to return the embrace. With a final squeeze, Tracey stepped back and saw that the couple's fingers were now intertwined.
"Thank you," Hermione said almost shyly. "We appreciate that."
"Yeah, definitely," Jasmine added. "We get that it takes some time to get used to, but I think you're the only British magical besides Professor McGonagall to not give us the whole, 'It's weird, but...' thing." She smiled. "It's kinda nice."
Saturday, January 22, 1996, Late Afternoon.
"Alright, Amelia, I'm here. What's with all the cloak and dagger?"
Bones smiled wryly as Saul Croaker sat down on the other side of her desk. He was one of the Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries — in fact, she suspected that he was one of their leading Unspeakables, but she had no way of proving it. "I thought that you of all people would appreciate it."
"Maybe on some days, but I'm hoping to take my wife out to dinner tonight," Croaker retorted.
"Oh, sorry," Bones said, but Croaker waved it away as unimportant. "Before we get started, what's your position on the claims that You-Know-Who has returned?"
Croaker narrowed his eyes slightly. "What's yours?"
Bones sighed and pushed over a folio of parchment which represented all of the evidence she had on the subject. He read through it all quickly, then said, "Interesting — and more than we've come across ourselves downstairs. Pity none of it is conclusive, though. But is this why you called me in so late on a Saturday?"
"No, actually, it's about Weasley's death," Bones said. "I recently received intelligence that You-Know-Who has become a bit mad about divination and has gotten it into his head that perhaps a prophecy or two would give him an edge."
"Oh, I think he was more than a bit mad already, and being dead or whatever he was for a decade and a half couldn't have helped," Croaker observed as he flipped through the parchment again. "But if he's looking to gain access to the Prophecy Room, that's potentially useful. I can ensure that security there is stepped up."
"I'd like to be keyed into any alerts you create," Bones said.
"Oh? Why?"
"In addition to the many things I have to do to make up for Fudge's stupidity," Bones answered, "I've been trying to put together several rapid strike teams to deal with attacks made by You-Know-Who or Death Eaters. We need to do a lot better than the Ministry did in the 70s. This past summer I had a survey done of attacks his forces made last time, and it showed that auror responses were too slow and weak to make much difference. Now, in the wake of the attacks on those young witches, I'm making those strike teams a higher priority. If I get an alert from you, I might be able to send a couple down your way to assist."
Croaker nodded. "That would be appreciated. We have some skilled witches and wizards, but not many. Tell me a bit about these teams of yours..."
Sunday, January 23, 1996, Morning.
Hermione and Jasmine were as nervous as they'd ever been as they did their stretches in the Room of Requirement, waiting for their friends to arrive for their weekend training session. The two had no idea how the others would ultimately react to everything they'd disclosed the previous day, but they had resolved to try to act as normally as possible in order to give them time to come to grips with it all.
When the others did arrive, the training session went on as it always did, with none of their friends saying or doing anything that would even hint at the fact that there were any unresolved issues between them. Except for one thing: Blaise Zabini was missing. Everyone noticed it, but no one dared ask, and the other two Slytherins didn't volunteer any information.
It was only at the end that the ice broke. With the Delacour sisters watching in amusement, and Ron and Neville standing off to the side looking a bit disconcerted, all of the witches formed a ring around Jasmine and Hermione. One by one, they expressed their intent to support them — in their personal choices, in their political aspirations, and in their quest to fulfill the prophecies. A few admitted that the idea of two witches in a romantic relationship made them uncomfortable, but on the whole everyone was accepting.
Tracey, for her part, gave them two big thumbs-up and said, "I'm in."
The ring then closed into a large group hug as the witches gave physical expression to their words of support. As they did so, Jasmine and Hermione experienced a feeling that they recognized from the night of the attacks: a sense of connection to all of the witches. It wasn't immediate and constant, like what they had developed with each other or even with Fleur and Gabrielle. But if they concentrated, they could feel the link.
"So, uh... what about Blaise?" Jasmine asked once the group hug had broken up.
Daphne sighed heavily. "He's deeply troubled. He wanted to come, but he felt that he couldn't until he could work some things out."
"You've got nothing to worry about regarding your secrets," Tracey added quickly. "He's promised to keep them."
"Is he that bothered by their relationship?" Neville asked. "He didn't strike me as someone who readily went along with what everyone else believes or says... especially given what he told us about his mother."
"It's more than that," Daphne answered. "It does bother him, and he admitted that he thought it was wrong, but he also said that he found the idea of witches doing those rituals alone to be wrong as well. He didn't explain, but he seemed to lump it all together."
"I don't know if that makes me feel better or not," Hermione said with a frown.
"Well, if it helps, he did say that he felt incredibly conflicted," Tracey said, "because he also admitted that if the rituals we're performing are so effective, then there must be something right about them. And of course, how could a soul bond be wrong?"
"So he's got two sets of beliefs that are in conflict," Daphne added, "and he doesn't know what's right. That's why he's staying away — it's not because of you, but because the conflict is upsetting him so much."
"Do you... do you have any idea how he'll decide?" Jasmine asked.
"I don't know," Tracey admitted with a sigh. "He likes you. He likes all of us, actually, so we have no doubt that he wants to decide that we're right. But whatever it is that's telling him we're wrong can't be trivial, so getting past it won't be easy."
Sirius Black looked down at the latest letter from Jasmine and felt conflicted. On the one hand, he was getting help from his goddaughter to get a date. How embarrassing was it that he, the amazing and virile Sirius Black, needed help from a teen girl to get a date?
On the other hand... wow, what a date! Not only was she a beautiful and sexy woman who wasn't already suspicious of him because of his reputation, but all of those rumors about her poisoning her many husbands were cases of her being far too much in bed for those husbands to handle.
Sirius felt conflicted about that, as well. He'd always said that if he ever had a choice about how he was going to die, he'd rather die in bed next to an insanely beautiful woman and with a smile on his face. He'd even written it into his will. Of course, now that he was faced with the possibility of having that happen... he wasn't quite so keen on the idea anymore. Truth be told, the thought that there was a woman who could do that was more than a bit intimidating.
The worst part was that he didn't have any better prospects. He didn't even have any worse prospects. Ever since getting out of Azkaban, he hadn't had time to go looking for Miss Right — or even Miss Right Now — and for some reason, no one had approached him.
"Mother," he said to Walburga's portrait, "I know this can't be a priority, but I'd like to see what information we can get about Alessandra Zabini."
"Why?" Walburga asked. "Is she working against Jasmine Dorea?"
"No, not at all," Sirius responded. "Her son is a member of Jasmine's coven, as you call it. No, she seems interested in me, and I find her attractive. There are rumors about her killing previous husbands, but they are apparently a mistake. So I'd like to learn all I can about her before contacting her about going out on a date."
Lost in thought, he didn't wait for a reply before leaving the room. Maybe I can get some advice from Moony, he considered. Then again, I'm probably more likely to get laughed at by him...
Walburga's eyes narrowed at the door that had just closed. This could cause problems for my plans, she thought. If he gets into a serious relationship and even marries, he might have children. That would be most inconvenient — even if he doesn't marry his own cousin, he's the product of too much past inbreeding in this family. We need a new direction, and children from Sirius won't give us that.
Then again, she realized, he did say that she already has a son. And she's been married multiple times, mostly without having had children, it seems. She may not want any more. Researching her is clearly even more important than Sirius knew….