In the Room of Requirement, now that her oath of secrecy had worn off, Hermione recounted word for word her surprise meeting with the Triwizard Committee the night before the Second Task. She made sure to hold back her own opinions and speculations as much as possible to start. It would be good to hear what her friends thought without confirmation bias to influence their judgement.

"Well, I think we can safely absolve Karkaroff of suspicion by now," suggested Blaise. "Seems to me all he cares about is Durmstrang winning the Tournament."

Murmurs of agreement sounded around the circle.

"Why was Crouch absent yesterday, Blaise?" asked Terry, "if not for him we'd have had all our suspects in the same room! Well, him and Moody too I guess."

Blaise shrugged. "I believe he's been ill for the whole month. He's been staying in his room most of the time. Sometimes he goes out for a walk, but it's like he's deliberately trying to avoid people."

"Afraid of being unpresentable?" wondered Daphne.

"Can't say I blame him," sympathized Blaise, "I saw him on the sixth floor once and he looked positively haggard even from the back. Although I've heard he's on the mend now."

"I think Maxime is probably safe," said Harry, "just a feeling."

"Hmm."

Hermione gave them a few more moments, then voiced the detail that first caught her attention. "Whoever our culprit is, what I'm most curious about is why they didn't take advantage of the opportunity to get at Harry today."

Anthony threw her a nonplussed look. "What opportunity? Nobody could've gotten ten meters of the Mervillage, and I doubt the Merpeople would make themselves accomplice to a wizard's plot!"

"But there was one mage who Harry did need to get close to, remember?" Hermione pointed out. "Or rather, three. But one in particular."

Daphne's eyes widened in understanding. "The hostages!"

Harry gasped. "Ron? He would never!"

"But how would you know it was Ron that you were rescuing?" Hermione pressed. "Our culprit stole polyjuice ingredients a month ago, remember? They could've made an accomplice take Ron's place while the real Ron sleeps in a broom-closet somewhere. Then when you go to free your hostage, imposter-Ron 'wakes up', attacks you at point blank, and flees into the depth of the lake. Pandemonium breaks out as everybody tries to figure out what happened to you. Days later, they find Ron flailing about in the lake all confused, remembering only that he'd been put to sleep for the Tournament. The imposter gets off scot-free."

"That… makes a lot of sense, actually," agreed Anthony slowly, "explains why the potion storeroom was broken into in the first place."

Harry frowned. "Is that why you were nagging at me this morning to wear the amulet you got me for Yule?"

"Yep," admitted Hermione. "I wasn't allowed to tell you that you'd be rescuing someone in the Task, so I had to insist on the precaution."

"Thank goodness you didn't let them make you the hostage! I almost left the thing behind!"

The amulet in question was a mobile ward anchor that Hermione could remotely recharge. She'd told Harry that it was a trinket that would expire by summer. In reality, he would be well protected from most physical and magical attacks as long as she was paying attention.

"But there was a whole village of Merfolk who witnessed the Second Task," Terry pointed out, "wouldn't they testify that there was foul-play involved? I thought our nominator wanted Harry to have an accident."

Theo dipped his head. "That's true, but you underestimate the bigotry of the Wizengamot. A third of the representatives still refuse to accept non-humans as credible witnesses. All the imposter has to do is hijack the big charm-projection and make it show some fabricated scene of the Mervillage brutally murdering Harry. They wouldn't stand a chance."

"Wha - But that's horrible!" Terry jumped up, outraged. "Bloody pigs!"

"Well, I don't think it'll definitely go that way if the matter really gets brought to court," amended Theo, "But the Wizengamot has debated whether to have Merpeople rounded up and tagged in the past, and it's definitely likely that our imposter happens to believe such a trick would work."

Daphne nodded agreement. "And you're right, magical creatures do deserve better. Did you know they proposed a bill in the summer to have all werewolves put under Ministry surveillance and house arrest in all but name? I mean, werewolves are dangerous but I reckon that's going a bit too far."

"They're not that dangerous if they have the Wolfsbane potion," harrumphed Harry, no doubt thinking of Lupin, "Thank Merlin that bill didn't pass."

"Let's get back on topic," reminded Anthony, "I think we can agree that the hostages were a viable opportunity for assassination, yes? In that case I think Bagman looks mighty suspicious."

"Why Bagman?" asked Blaise.

"Well, he was the one who kept insisting on hostages. He repeatedly put down Maxime's suggestion to replace hostages with objects, and he pretty much panicked when Sal disrupted his plans by refusing. And he's been inexplicably interested in making sure that Harry feels confident enough to keep trying to win."

"He does act kind of shifty at times," concurred Daphne tentatively.

"Exactly!" Anthony sat up victoriously, gathering steam, "Either he was really a spy for the Death Eaters and lied about being tricked, or he's an imposter himself. Bagman's not a good duellist. It would be easy to knock him out and impersonate him. Just act like a happy puppy and no one would be able to tell the difference!"

Harry scratched his head, deep in consideration. "He does single me out a lot, although usually he just wants to help me cheat. When I tell him I've already got a good plan he backs off."

"See? All the easier to control what you do!"

"It's settled," nodded Terry decisively, "Bagman's in the lead with suspicion points! I guess we can also drop Maxime off the list, since she was against the hostage idea."

Theo frowned. "I'm not sure it's him. I mean, the original Bagman just doesn't seem the Death Eater type to me, and the Bagman we met is far too attention-seeking to be an imposter. But I suppose right now he's more likely than the others."

Happily, the Nocturne Group hammered out a revised plan to concentrate their attention on Bagman, Crouch, and Moody, the three remaining suspects. Her friends were beaming by the time they parted ways, elated that the investigation was finally getting somewhere, but Hermione still had one concern.

Namely, why didn't Bagman or whoever it was take the opportunity with the hostages?

Supposing for now that Bagman was the culprit. There was no reason for him to hold back during the Second Task. He could not have thrown away his second chance as easily as he did his first, as he was now running out of opportunities. He could not have known about Harry's amulet or the Nocturne Group's back-up projector until five minutes before the start of the Task, and by then he would have no time to undo his preparations. The most logical conclusion she could draw from all this was that Harry's nominator did not put his name in to do him in after all.

But what then could they be after? Did they really only wish to see Harry win or be humiliated?

Harry's nominator may be out of chances to accomplish whatever it was that they plotted toward, but so too were the Nocturne Group. If they couldn't uncover the plot by the Third Task, they would be ill-prepared to fend off their unknown enemy's final, most desperate effort. So far Hermione had taken a backseat in her friends' investigative campaign, but now she would need to dedicate a bit more attention to this mystery. Either she would convince herself that Harry's mysterious helper had innocuous intentions, or she would figure out how to stop them from achieving what they wanted.

Nobody hurts her friends on her watch.

Hermione grimaced. Ah, what a self-righteous and grandiose assertion to be made by her ego! As if she actually had the power to shield whoever she wished from harm. As if there wasn't someone who she dearly wished to spare from misery, who she instead condemned deeper with her failure every single day. Theo's emotions had been indecipherable when she'd round-aboutly brought up the topic of unusual letters in the audience seats. Tristan Nott had finally started to respond to her attempts at persuasion, but send him anything more direct than a loaded reference to mythology and he'd clam up faster than a lightning scallop. The pages of ink she'd spent in their irritatingly cryptic dance of words had not brought forth any indication that his position had changed, however much goodwill she'd earned for her trouble. Still, she would keep trying if only for his son's sake.

It was maddening. 'If his father still sides with Voldemort by the time war breaks out, it may be his misfortune to ever have known me.'

A shudder went down Hermione's spine as she tried to accept the bucket of ice water dumped on her by that unhappy reckoning in good grace.

Once again, she reminded herself to focus on the things that she could influence. Pragmatism demanded it. Right or wrong, there were yet more cards waiting to fall.

Days passed now in quiet, unremarkable progression. Hermione had jokingly likened her January and February to those ancient times when nervous villagers tossed endless food and relics into the ocean in hopes of taming tempests, but her duel with Avery and Mulciber seemed to be the last offering that would finally quiet the whirlwind of demands. The two former Death Eaters' full commitment was like an obelisk dropped into the sea, dully penetrating into murky depths that had been unreachable to her otherwise. Now, as whispers of the neutral-dark faction rippled outward through the somewhat calmed water, Hermione was at last free to observe the swirling eddies of reactions that churned in its wake.

Through their combined efforts, Avery and Mulciber had identified a handful of mages - five or six, perhaps - who may be willing to not only join but also actively defend the neutral-dark faction in exchange for coin. Hermione had asked them to once again confirm the mages' characters before attempting recruitment. If successful, Cassius Avery and Montressor Selwyn would jointly coordinate this small band of duellists and direct them to where they would be needed.

If Emmanuel Mulciber had any grievances about not having leadership over the duellists that he'd recruited, he did not voice them. Really, it was for the best. She needed Selwyn to be involved in the formation and command of what would become the faction's standing army - however small it may be, and between Avery and Mulciber she figured that Cassius would desire the excitement more.

Meanwhile, Avery had made contact with his werewolf associate. However, the good news had been relayed with a cautioning remark that said friend did not seem enthusiastic about the faction's proposition. For both Cassius and Hermione this had been entirely expected. In the absence of deeper connections with the clans, all they could do on this front was to keep working on Cassius's contact and hope that something came from it.

Then, of course, there was the less pleasant news of trouble brewing in Knockturn Alley.

Winky had been keeping a watch on the alley with an amazing competency, and each night she spoke of an ongoing recruitment campaign in a back-alley near the Wyvern. She spoke of the exchange of fat pouches of gold. She spoke of the appearance of two well-dressed men - Aaron Pike and an associate, as it turned out - huddled impatiently in the shadier parts of the already shady alley. It would seem that Aaron was finally rejecting her offer for good. That was alright. While unfortunate, he was no great loss.

And finally, Winky spoke of a coalition forming between two companies of "mercenaries" with historic Death Eater sympathies. The puzzle was complete and clear as day. Certain individuals who did not wish for the faction to succeed were beginning to make their objections known.

Rather interestingly, while mages with Death Eater sympathies had not balked at the neutral-dark faction's slow seduction of their aristocratic compatriots, it was Hermione's recruitment of the merchants that finally spurred them to action. Now faced with a foreseeable future of exorbitant prices and service refusals, they'd decided to rally their bruisers and intimidate shopkeepers into submission. After Hermione's own two months worth of trials and tribulations, here was the first challenge to the faction itself and a chance to prove its ability to make good on its promise.

For now, Hermione prepared by ensuring that all the merchant's wards were adequate and notifying Avery to be ready for trouble, while Winky continued to gather intelligence.

Really, the speed of the elf's improvement in the art of information gathering was a wonder to behold. It would seem that when a veteran in discretion and secrecy is given pointers on how to observe mages, a fledgeling superspy is produced. The fact that too many mages blindly dismissed elves as inconsequential only worked in Winky's favour, and if Hermione wasn't already bound to the diligent elf by magic she might even be intimidated by her sheer effectiveness. 'By the Styx, if the faction emerges from the oncoming war victorious I'll find some way to get Winky a public award for her contributions. Then perhaps wizardkind will finally realize their error in underestimating elves.' Let those mages who mistook their bound elves for slaves quake in their boots over their mistake.

But Winky was not the only one learning spycraft these days. Severus had apparently decided that in order for poor Sally Granger to survive her dealings with the faction that she founded, more coaching was required. It was thus that at his insistence, their weekly sparring session expanded to include what she would loosely call a tutorial in conversation-making. Or, rather, how to speak without giving away her secrets.

"Hermione, it is imperative that you realize you are now dancing with people who would smile and sing your praises one moment and stab you in the next," the double agent would say during one of these sessions, "Consequently, you must guard yourself at all times. You must appear to be exactly what they wish to see at every instance, and you must show no weakness. Above all, you must never, ever let them see your true face."

"Professor," Hermione tried her best not to marvel at the irony, "is it really necessary for us to do this every week?"

"For Merlin's sake, take your practice seriously! You are still showing too much emotion on your face. Be unreadable, Hermione. Don't let me see any feelings!"

There was no way out of this except to humour him. "As you say, Professor. I appreciate that you are being so frank with me in sharing the wisdom you gained through your experience as a spy."

"As you should," he huffed. "They expect a perfect politician, an enigmatic leader, an unassailable monolith, and that's the mask that you must learn to wear. I know you can do this."

Hermione smiled. "Do you wish for me to emulate Lord Slytherin, perhaps?"

"No one can become as insufferably inscrutable as that damned portrait in a thousand years," muttered Professor Snape, not exactly quietly, "That was good until you started grinning, but you need to be able to maintain the mask. Until you can consistently make it through half an hour of conversation without letting me see through your dissimulation through expression, body language, or legilimency, you are not ready to engage with that snake's nest you call allies."

'You, Severus Snape, are a trying man,' Hermione sighed, extending her outer Occlumency shields all the way shut. "Very well, Professor. Let us begin. Ask me anything."

"Good," nodded the Potion Master, finally satisfied, "What are your career aspirations after you graduate?"

"I am undecided, Professor. Our society is in such a state of flux that I suppose I will simply see what needs doing when the time comes. I do intend to teach at Hogwarts at some point, however. If only for a year or five."

"Oh?" A dark eyebrow rose, giving no hints as to whether or not he believed her, "and what would you teach?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts. What else?"

Now his mouth quirked. "Very well, I suppose the subject does have its charms. How confident do you feel about assembling and leading a third faction into war?"

"As confident as the Headmaster did when he founded the Order of the Phoenix, I'd imagine. There's no surety in war, but my plan is viable and better than my supporters' other options in the long term. The rewards well-justify the risks that we take on."

"If you say so. And how do you feel about the safety of your parents when all hell breaks loose?"

"Unworried. Firstly, no one will waste time tracking down the parents of an underage muggleborn of no special significance, because no one except you will learn of my identity before my victory is secured. Secondly, they are protected."

"The Ministry tracks underage magic," he pointed out, "you can't cast protective wards for them without being detected."

"I can, however, enchant amulets here that shield them from magical attacks."

"Another extracurricular project, on top of everything else?"

"Yes," shrugged Hermione, "It's already finished."

"Good," Severus accepted, with just the slightest hint of exasperation. "You are better at this than I feared, Hermione. It's reassuring. What's on your mind right now?"

Hermione stared at him in exaggerated wide-eyed surprise. "Why, Professor, you mean you can't just read it from me?"

She was rewarded with a scowl for her insolence. "Your Occlumency shields are passable for a cursory inspection. Answer the question, please."

"I'm thinking about the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, and what it'll be about. I'm sure it will involve a lot of traditional and novel creatures known and unknown to Wizardkind. Hagrid's Blast-ended Skewts have yet to make an appearance, for example."

"What makes you think they'll be a part of the Tournament?" questioned Hogwarts' Slytherin Head of House.

"Well, they're dying too quickly to be useful for anything else. Certainly he's not raising them for research purposes - there's been nothing even remotely resembling research happening except for Draco Malfoy's notes. In any case, I believe they're intended to be obstacles in an enchanted obstacle course. And yes, it only makes sense for the arena to be configured as such. It cannot be an open field because it would be too similar to the First Task, and the fact that they have already blocked off the Quidditch field to begin preparations now only gives it away. … Ah, I am correct! How gratifying. Have they requested your help with enchanting the arena, Professor?"

He snorted. "Mr. Potter has an unfair advantage in the Tournament in the form of you and your friends. That was a good balance of nonchalance and mockery, Hermione. Useful for provoking a response without revealing your own interests. One more question: who is Theodore Nott to you?"

"He is my friend, and I would like for us to remain so. Provided, of course, that his father does not return to Voldemort's side. If he does, I will reluctantly cut my losses and cut ties."

"That," smiled Severus Snape gently, "I believe was a lie."

"You're right," admitted Hermione, "I'll not give up on any friend of mine so easily."

He sighed. "Still, it was a passable one. I would not have caught you if I didn't know the kind of person you are. When you can consistently tell these kind of lies, Hermione, and hide how you feel about even the things and people you care the most about, that's when you'll be ready for this war."

"I understand, Professor." 'He is remembering Lily Potter again. In some ways we're startlingly similar, him and I...'

"Do you really?" muttered Severus wonderingly, "Good luck, Hermione. I hope fortune is kinder to you than it's been for me."

Hermione nodded silently and left him in their makeshift duelling chamber. 'Good luck to you too, Severus. And I appreciate that you're willing to make that admission to me. If only I could be equally open with you.'

February passed too into March slowly and quietly, and Hermione waited patiently. By mid March, the various simmering pots that she was stirring were bubbling increasingly close to a boil.

'Mme. Slytherin,

Rumours have it that you've won the allegiance of a third of the merchants in Knockturn Alley. Congratulations.

I write because I've caught wind of a nefarious plot that you may need to be ready for. There's been some unrest in the Alley lately, and some of your faction's new members might become targets of certain groups of hitwizards.

Now that you know, I have no doubt that you'll be able to plan accordingly and dissuade those goons.

I once again send my best regards,

-L.'

'Lucius,

I am aware of this, although I do appreciate your warning. After Aaron Pike was spotted in a shady corner passing a bag of Galleons to a well-known member of a group that calls itself the Basilisk Eye, it's been easy to infer who and what is behind the plot against the merchants. It seems that the Ven. Mr. Pike is envious of the mates-rates enjoyed by members of the neutral-dark faction, and wishes to intimidate the merchants into providing him with the same advantages. Worry not, we are prepared and will see to our members' safety.

That said, I do sympathize somewhat with Aaron, because he does have a point. I understand that material resources tend to become scarce during conflicts, and merchants will naturally wish to capitalize on the supply-demand disparity to extortionary levels unless they have an altruistic reason not to do so. Then once you add on the premium charged to known or suspected Death Eaters… I pity Aaron, because I shudder to imagine the amount of gold it would cost him to purchase just about anything for even himself, let alone what he'd be forced to contribute toward supplying Voldemort's army.

By the way, have you given any more thought to joining the neutral-dark faction? Our invitation still stands, and I would be happy to address your remaining doubts.

S.'

'S, are you familiar with the story of Arachne? - T.'

'I am, Tristan. The weaver who became the mother of spiders, yes? - S.'

'I was recalling Ovid's Metamorphoses last night. It is a tragic story, is it not? A mortal sought to challenge a god, and was in turn eternally damned for the temerity.'

'I too find Arachne's story most tragic. The saddest part, I found, was that Arachne did not in fact die when Athena struck her in anger. Instead it was Arachne who hung herself after Athena's blows failed to kill her, strangling her own future out of fear of what Athena might do. It was only after she hung herself that Athena then turned her body and her legacy into a parody of what she once was.'

'You could argue that, but it is a matter of technicality. Would Arachne really have been allowed to go free if she'd continued to defy a god?'

'Ah, there's the rub, isn't it? Because Arachne never made the attempt, we would never know. But tell me, do you remember what scene was woven by Athena in the center of her tapestry during her competition with Arachne?'

'I believe it was the contest between Poseidon and Athena to become Athens's patron god.'

'Indeed, it was the election of a patron by the people of Athens. Poseidon promised war, and gifted the people a stallion to ride into battle. Athena promised peace, and offered an olive tree to produce wealth and prosperity. Remind me, who did Athens choose again?'

'Athena, of course.'

'Ah, that's right, they declined Poseidon. And Poseidon did indeed grow angry, punishing the city by causing the sea to withdraw from them. But was Athens really worse off for it? Did its citizens suffer terrible deaths for their defiance of mighty Poiseidon, who was one of the three kings of gods? Or did they go on to build a legacy that lasted centuries? Did they not triumph over even the Trojans, who were Poseidon's eventual champions?

My point, Tristan, is that "mortals" do have agency. You lament Arachne's seeming lack of options after challenging a god, but that same story also reminds us that mortals have the right to choose gods and the power to defy them - even if it really is a god, and not merely a man pretending to be one. But poor Arachne, she passed up this right and power by tying a noose around her own neck instead of standing by what she was entitled to. That, my friend, is truly a tragedy that I do not ever wish to see repeated.'

AN: Suspects have been narrowed down to 3. Severus is attempting to teach Salazar Slytherin how to lie