A/N: Oh the lonely life of a high-functioning psychopath.
Also, sorry there may be somewhat sporadic updates for this as this would be my last fully pre-prepared chapter from my three day burst of inspiration when I first wrote this idea up, about two weeks ago. I've had a rather heavy work-load of late, as well as certain responsibilities, and a lot of my free-time has been drawn into the works of 'Silently Watches' and 'The Carnivorous Muffin' like you wouldn't believe (seriously, check out their work, it's far better than mine.)
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.
Chapter Four
Christmas morning broke bright and early for Jasmine, much like any other day of the year, and as far as she was concerned it was just a normal day. And so, she was surprised to say the least when she nearly tripped over something at the foot of her bed.
Flicking her holly wand absently to cast a light spell, she was puzzled to see a pair of packages on the floor. Both loosely shaped, one wrapped in midnight-blue, the other in gold. With hesitation, she picked them up; glad that her dorm was empty for the holidays and no-one was around to see.
She placed the gold one on the bed, and looked over the blue first, noting the lack of a nametag or letter, or any identification really. After throwing a few diagnostic spells at it, which came up blank, she carefully opened the packaging to reveal a large black piece of fabric, lined in intricate silver runes along the edge. From the middle of it all, was finally a handwritten note on a piece of card:
'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it wisely.'
With a frown, Jasmine picked up the cloak. Something of her father's? The writing was Dumbledore's, that much she knew, but why would the old man begrudge her anything? She didn't imagine he was fond of her after the incidents of the last term, not least threatening him into giving her the mirror. Perhaps he was under oath to return this…cloak?
Moving around the fabric, she threw it over herself, wishing it was just a normal wizarding cloak. Almost as soon as she had thought that, the material seemed to twist and reshape itself, and moments later she was wearing a fine cloak, with a forward leaning hood. She froze at the change, and then gaped as a moment later; anything covered by the cloak disappeared. She moved her hand, so it emerged from a voluminous sleeve, seemingly attached to nothing, before hiding it again.
Jasmine smiled then, moving over to the full length mirror by the door of the room. If she pulled the hood down right, her entire body was invisible.
'I wonder…' she thought, considering how the invisibility cloak had responded to her previous wish, 'off.' And as soon as she had thought it, she was visible once more, and although she cut a short figure, the hooded cloak was quite intimidating. 'How is this even possible? A normal invisibility cloak, aside from being ridiculously expensive, is certainly not capable of this. Not to mention, the power wears out in under a decade as the Demiguise fur loses its magic, so how could it be my father's? No invisibility cloak lasts that long and still works fine. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore was studying it?' Jasmine resolved to go to the library at some point to research this, in the mean-time storing the cloak in her trunk safely under lock and key. No matter what, though, this would definitely be a very useful item. She also made a note to carefully check over it for tracking or monitoring charms; Dumbledore would hardly hand something of this nature to a student without some precautions.
Having stored that away however, she now turned to the golden package, flipping it over to reveal the card attached.
'To Jasmine, Merry Christmas, from Hermione.'
Her heart stopped, and she blinked at the gift. In all her years, those two little words had never been said to her. And she had never before received a real present from someone-the cloak from Dumbledore didn't count, he was simply returning what was already hers and using the date to make it seem like a gift, and nor did her relatives, who would perhaps begrudge her a few crumbs of Christmas pudding if she were lucky. This, was an honest-to-god Christmas present, from a…friend? Jasmine had never stopped to really consider what she and Hermione were, although she'd spent plenty of time considering the future and what she saw in the mirror, she'd never looked at the here and now.
With tentative hands and a disembodied sensation, as if it were someone else doing it, she unwrapped the gift carefully to reveal a navy blue, woollen scarf. With slow movements, she picked up the long length of fabric, her keen eyes picking out the details; the slight imperfections and mistakes. This was hand-made. For her. The little detail of 'J.P' in black on one of the ends made certain of that, someone, presumably Hermione herself, had gone to the trouble of knitting this for her.
She actually felt…something in her ice cold heart shift, a warm feeling growing in her chest for probably the first time in her short life.
With a sudden rush of movement, she checked the watch resting on her bedside table. She still had an hour before breakfast, but she'd have to be quick. With a speed she had rarely known, she quickly began to dress in clothes suitable for London. She knew what it was that she was going to be getting.
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First day of term drew around all too quickly, and the evening feast heralded the arrival of their new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, one Gilderoy Lockhart. He was a man seemingly prone to pontification and showing off from what Jasmine knew, and she did not have high expectations for his teaching standards.
The only real highlights of the day for her, was seeing the face of one bushy haired girl again, even though it was across the hall. They did exchange smiles at seeing each other though.
After the meal, almost as if guided by some exterior force, Jasmine walked up to the old tower, her blue scarf wrapped around her neck and thrown over her left shoulder. This time, however, it was Hermione who was to be found on the window seat, reading a book.
"First Edition copy of the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes," Hermione stated as the ravenette approached.
"I felt a book was appropriate for a bibliophile such as yourself," Jasmine replied. Hermione was very much a book-lover of course, hell; the girl was Madam Pince's favourite student because of it. "And I felt you could do with expanding your repertoire into fiction as well as non."
"An interesting choice of book," Hermione stated, "and just a tad expensive, how much did you pay for this?"
"Is it not against etiquette to ask such things?" Jasmine responded in an attempt to evade the question. The price was even higher than Hermione probably suspected, considering she had got it at absolute last minute on Christmas day itself. "I feel I returned something perhaps of lesser worth than you gave me, though I tried my best."
"Lesser? How is a scarf lesser than this?" Hermione replied incredulously.
"Time is worth far more than gold. You spent time and effort making this for me," Jasmine held the wool between her fingers, feeling the garment she had worn most every day since Christmas. "No-one's ever done something like that for me before." She whispered the last few words, but Hermione still heard them, and turned blue eyes on her, filled with an emotion Jasmine had never seen directed at her; pity. "Don't look at me like that," she said hotly, feeling awkward under Hermione's gaze, "never look at me like that, I do not want nor need your pity."
Hermione flinched away as if struck at her tone, even a flash of fear in her bright eyes.
"I'm sorry," she began slowly, but Jasmine just brushed her off.
"No, forget it!" she moved to storm away from the witch, but paused as a voice sounded behind her.
"I do appreciate it. The book I mean," Hermione said softly, "I always loved Sherlock Holmes when I was younger, my mum used to read the stories to me. I always identified with him a lot, being smarter than other kids my age. Decided I wanted to be a detective when I grew up," she gave a snort of amusement, "seems so silly now."
"We can achieve anything if we set our minds to it," Jasmine replied after a moment, looking back at the bushy haired girl, "I suppose, if you're Sherlock, and you already have a Watson in the Longbottom girl, does that make me Moriarty?"
"Hah, I suppose you are my diabolical nemesis," Hermione replied light heartedly.
"And so it shall be writ in stone. I shall bid you good evening, Miss Holmes, until we meet again in our game of shadows," and with that, she left, carefully guarding her face lest her counterpart see something detailing the truth of her statement.
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Lessons proceeded as lessons did, and Jasmine had her suspicions about Lockhart proved correct; he was an incompetent buffoon, and a fame hound who loved to brag about his various accomplishments-which sounded slightly off to her for some reason. He never actually detailed how he dealt with them exactly, which would of course be the most useful thing for their class. Not to mention that he seemed simply incapable of casting any spell right.
When he attempted to show them how to deal with a Cornish Pixie (only the one, she'd also heard about what happened when he let several out into the classroom earlier in the day.) The little blue creature managed to disarm him and flip him over onto his back before he managed to flick his wand and by pure chance disorientate it into knocking itself out on the wall by flying into it. Still, the man managed to dust himself off and play it off as nothing, despite it being an obvious example of his complete and total inadequacy. He of course, merely dismissed them all from the lesson early, apart from Padma Patil for some reason.
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'A great artefact of power, Death's Cloak is one of the three Deathly Hallows granted by death to the wisest of three brothers, see Tales of Beadle the Bard. It is written to be a cloak which bestows upon the wielder true invisibility and the ability to move within the shadows as if they were their own, even to hide from Death himself, as the story goes. However, there are many who believe this, along with the other two Hallows, does indeed exist. It is rumoured, that Ignotus Peverell was the brother who was given the cloak; however nothing has ever been proven,' Jasmine leaned back from the book after reading the words. 'Interesting,' filtered through her mind, 'Peverell….I know that name from somewhere.'
She resolved to look it up at a later date, after all this was just one possibility, not necessarily the only one. Still, it was actually slightly more plausible than some of the leads she'd gone over since Christmas.
"That looks like an old book," said a voice from behind her, and Jasmine smiled as she twisted on the stone window-sill to gaze at a curious Hermione.
"Just a little extended reading," she replied deftly, not mentioning that it was indeed an old book, from the restricted section in-fact. Oh, the advantages of invisibility. "Reading up on the Deathly Hallows."
"Oh, I've never heard of them, what are they?" her counterpart inquired with interest, looking over her shoulder at the old tome.
"Artefacts from a story, from the Wizarding equivalent of Grimm's fairy tales," she answered.
"You and your fairy tales," Hermione chortled, "I mean, I appreciate fiction now and then-."
"Practically never," Jasmine interrupted, and Hermione shrugged, conceding the point.
"But still, what's with your obsession with it?"
"I enjoy them; would you begrudge me my hobbies and interests?"
"I guess not," the girl agreed, "I suppose it's fairly harmless as hobbies go, I just don't see the point."
"Ah, that's because you have such a narrow mind-set of what counts as 'useful' information to be stored up here," the ravenette tapped the side of her head.
"Well I have to delete some things," Hermione relented, "my library gets full." That got Jasmine intrigued, and she quirked her head at her fellow.
"Your mindscape you mean?" she inquired, "is a library?"
"It makes it easy to classify information and store it in a relevant location."
"Heh, guess it makes sense you'd use a library," Jasmine replied.
"What about you?"
"Hogwarts," Jasmine stated simply, "nice and easy to visualise with how we're constantly in it, and separate classrooms and wings for information, not to mention plenty of hidden locations and tricks and traps."
"Traps?"
"Legilimancers do exist, Hermione, our dear headmaster is one, as well as Professor Snape, and I like to make things difficult for anyone who would attempt to abuse my mind."
"Don't you mean enter?"
"Same thing."
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"So, allow me to get this straight," Jasmine fixed the brothel madam with a hard look through her dark aviators, "you want an extra investment so as to be able to indulge some of your client's more…eccentric fantasies?"
"T-that's right, Miss Adler," the woman she knew as Rosa replied.
"Why didn't you say so in the first bloody place?" she said incredulously, "just give me a list of what you need and I'll see that it happens. And honestly, don't try to 'protect' me by beating about the bush. We've recently purchased shares in the booming muggle pornography industry, and let me tell you, they are far, far ahead of wizards when it comes to the perverse."
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"Account Manager Griphook, may your gold flow freely and plentily," Jasmine greeted as she sat down in the chair before his desk.
"And may your enemies die in obscurity and bankruptcy, Miss Potter," he replied with a toothy grin. It always seemed to please the goblins that she had taken the time to learn some of their customs for dealing with them-and a pleased person was always easier to deal with. That or terrified.
"So why did you wish to meet in person?" she inquired curiously.
"It's about your vaults." She frowned. A few of the goblins were the only ones aware she had more than just the Potter vault, and that her other two vaults were listed under Eleanor Jarvis and Irene Adler. In matter of fact she had paid, and continued to pay, a very hefty bribe fee to make sure that continued. "Specifically the Potter vault."
"What about it?" she said slowly.
"Albus Dumbledore has repeatedly been trying to both gain access to it - claiming to be your magical guardian - and also to find out what is inside," the goblin leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, "of course, although they still haven't been read - having been sealed on Dumbledore's orders, as you know - your parents' wills state Sirius Black, Alice Longbottom, and Remus Lupin as your choices for guardian in event of their deaths. All three of whom are still alive, regardless of one sitting in prison and another in Saint Mungo's."
"I was under the impression that he could keep trying to ask until his mouth turns blue and he will still get no information on my vaults," she said neutrally.
"Yes, that is the position of Gringotts as a whole, however I should warn you that there are those among our people who are sympathetic to him - as defeater of Grindelwald etcetera - and may divulge information if he pushed them specifically." Jasmine gave the exterior impression of being calm, but inside she was fuming. That thrice damned old meddler!
"I am going to be plain, Griphook," she stood, leaning over to place hands on the desk and loom over the man menacingly, "let it be known among your people. If anyone, anyone, gets any information on any of my vaults; I shall pack up and take every last piece of gold from all three vaults, close the accounts, and make a public announcement that I do not trust Gringotts with my gold. Am I clear?" The threat was no small or idle one. In the last few months, she had hugely increased her net value after an initial dip of investment, and as the girl-who-lived, her statement would incite panic among the sheep.
"Crystal, Miss Potter," he replied formally with a neutral expression, but she caught the hint of fear in his beady eyes.
"Good," she turned to move towards the door, "oh, and thank-you for bringing this to my attention. You can be sure a measure of thanks will appear in your personal vault before sundown. May your gold flow freely and plentily."
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"Hello?"
"Good morning Mister Hound," Jasmine spoke into the mobile phone.
"Ah, Miss A-Adler," he said in reply.
"I want you to put several million into Apple, I get the feeling the worth is about to shoot up," she stated, looking over the 'secret' file containing pictures of the innovation coming in June, "and pull out of any rival companies."
"M-Miss Adler, Apple shares have been steadily dropping slightly annually around the same degree since the iPod boom."
"Mister Hound," she said warningly.
"Yes, yes, sorry ma'am, I'll get right on it."
"Good," she said, closing the flip-up phone and ending the call. The man was a bit timid, but made a good money manager for her muggle investments. Baker Street Holdings, housed exactly there, was making ripples in its quickly expanding portfolio and growing profits. "So much to do, so little time," she muttered, "oh damnit, I have a charms essay due in."
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"Why do you want to see me, Professor?" Jasmine inquired as the rest of the class filed from the room. Snape flicked his wand to close the door behind them before replying.
"Most of the students at this school are not worthy of my time, not least the majority of the dunderheads in first year. However, every now and then, it becomes plain that some actually may have the required skill with the fine art of potion-making to be worth my attention. And while you may have inherited your father's," he spat the word sourly, making it plain he disliked the man, "hair, you have also gained Lilly's intelligence." Jasmine furrowed her brows. The man had known both her parents it seemed, and by the way he said their names and the small mannerisms and micro-emotions…he had loved Lilly Evans, and probably hated James Potter for beating him to her. "The work you do in this class is clearly beneath your ability, and as such from now on you will be streamlined into more complex brews. If you can cope with the work I give you, you will be taking your OWL in third year, and will be a fully qualified Potions Mistress by eighteen. If you do not wish to do this, say as much now, however if you agree, you must be prepared for the work to come."
"I would be delighted, Professor," she said, bowing slightly. A mastery in potions could be very useful indeed, and it did interest her as a subject.
"Good," he said succinctly, as if he expected nothing less. "There is a second matter…when your mother and I were at school, we took to invention. Spells, potions, enchantment. She was a…natural genius," his tone was grudging, but his eyes were dark, heavy, as if struggling through the memory. "We recorded our work in a pair of notebooks," he opened a drawer at his desk and withdrew a black book, which he placed on the desk and slid towards her. Taking it slowly, she noted the name 'Lilly Evans' in gold filigree. "You have proved that you are responsible enough to receive this. It was bound to her blood, so you are naturally the only person alive who can open it."
"Thank-you, Professor," she said carefully, uncertain of what to say.
"Do not thank me, you earned it. I would not have given it to you were you too immature or incapable of using the information properly," he grudgingly replied, "now take this list," he handed over a piece of parchment, "those are all the potions books and ingredients you are going to need for your new studies."
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"Miss Skeeter, thank-you for coming," Jasmine greeted from her place by the drinks globe, with her customary drink in hand. "Please sit down; I don't believe I need to introduce Michael Greengrass," she gestured to her well-dressed counterpart on one of the sofas. "Drink?"
"Certainly," she replied, settling herself on the other sofa, and accepting the brandy when offered. "May I enquire as to why I am here though?"
"I should like to know that as well," Greengrass said lowly, and Jasmine flashed the pair a smile, settling herself in the armchair facing the fireplace.
"The news is a powerful thing, and currently, there is only one real newspaper in Wizarding Britain to report it. My employer believes this leaves some space of opportunity, and he has selected the two of you to spearhead this," she stated.
"Your employer?" Skeeter asked curiously, with a customary reporter's look. Greengrass flinched at the question, he was already aware of Moriarty, and had had a few dealings with him.
"A powerful and wealthy man, who prefers anonymity," she answered, "anyhow, his plan is for the 'Diagon Gazette' to be up and running by the end of the summer. You, Mister Greengrass, as CEO and chief editor, and you Miss Skeeter as head reporter."
"And why would I leave my job at the Prophet?" Skeeter drawled.
"Profit," Jasmine replied with a shark's grin, "the monetary kind, not the fortune telling. My employer is willing to offer an exorbitant signing fee for both of you." She pulled a pair of envelopes from her coat, holding one out in each hand to the pair who took in their names in green calligraphy as they took them. Skeeter of course, immediately opened her envelope, quickly scanning the parchment within with widening eyes. Greengrass however was eyeing her suspiciously.
"Why me?" he questioned.
"You're a fairly successful businessman with a good head on his shoulders and relatively neutral politically. You can be trusted to deliver the news. Speaking of which," she turned to Skeeter, "it is staying the news, less sensationalism. We obviously want attention grabbing headlines, but you are no longer fighting for your front page Miss Skeeter, keep it factual for the most part. Unless instructed otherwise."
"Instructed otherwise?" Skeeter inquired curiously.
"Like I said, the news is a powerful thing," Jasmine replied.
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"Do you know the best thing about purebloods, Mr Greyback?" Jasmine said casually as she pulled an envelope from her pocket.
"No," he stated gruffly.
"They have more money than sense," she replied with a smile, "this contains a small list of people we have dirt on, and a longer one of people we want dirt on. With some of them, there are then instructions to extort them for a fee."
"Now that I can do, my men are getting a bit restless guarding the businesses," Fenrir said eagerly.
"I believe there'll be even more work for them soon; he has me writing up plans to take over Knockturn entirely, and for getting a few new people under his control."
"He never stops, does he?"
"I should hope not; then I'd be out of a job," she replied wryly, wringing a bark of laughter from the werewolf.
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Jasmine simply raised an eyebrow as Lockhart was slammed back on his arse up on the duelling dais, as opposed to the laughs and sniggers from her fellow students. Snape was equally as composed, but she thought she could see a hint of satisfaction showing through his mask.
"Ah yes, very well done Professor Snape," the puffed up ponce said as he picked himself up, "though of course I could have blocked it had I been trying, I thought the students would wish to see the spell's effects."
"Of course," drawled Snape, "how about we allow two of the students to duel as an example."
"Excellent idea!" Lockhart exclaimed, "Right, Potter! Up you come." She barely resisted an open scowl at his singling out of her. She absolutely hated how much he tried to play up her fame during class, and ignored or put a stop to it at every chance she could, but the damn man was relentless. "And… Finnegan, come on up boy."
"If we allow Mister Finnegan up here, we'll be pulling out Miss Potter's charred corpse," Snape said derisively, to a few sniggers and an outraged Seamus. It was no secret how half his spells caused smoke and explosions. "How about…Miss Granger."
The collective intake of breath was all the response needed, and Jasmine exchanged a glance with the bushy haired Gryffindor. Her expression was clear: 'I'm game if you are.'
And so, with graceful steps, she alighted up the steps to the side by Snape while Hermione took to the other end. Upon getting to position, Jasmine flicked her wand out to the side and bowed deeply, her counterpart doing the same.
"Remember, to disarm only," came the ineffectual defence teacher's voice, though by the playful grins on both girl's faces, that was unlikely. "Three…Two…One…Begin!"
Jasmine struck first, sending a flipendo over Hermione's way which was instantly deflected to the side. She returned fire with three quickly fired curses that Jasmine brought up a strong shield to repel. Taking her opponent's tactic, Jasmine fired off a volley of simple spells, each one low powered but enough to cause the girl to slip. Hermione dodged the majority, but had to shield to defend against the last two, and Jasmine took that moment to send a more powerful stunner her way, which the brunette barely dodged.
And so they danced across the space, the air filled with magic and the shouts of Lockhart ignored as they traded spells swiftly growing in magnitude to that of a third year quickly. Jasmine favoured the still, solid position with shielding, whereas Hermione leaped about a bit, her agility and lack of need to shield giving her a slight advantage in timing, getting more spells off in a minute.
They were incredibly evenly matched until Jasmine felt the floor beneath her move, and she practically leapt backwards as the wood formed grasping hands trying to latch onto her. In her moment of panic though, however brief, Hermione struck, a simple red jet of light flicking her wand from her hand. The brunette even looked slightly triumphant as the holly stick left her hand.
She clearly didn't expect the sudden, silent and wandless banisher that made her stagger a little. Not a powerful spell, since it was without wand or word, but enough to disrupt her balance and shock her.
In the second it gave her, she again wandlessly and wordlessly summoned her wand back to her hand and quickly flicked her own disarming spell at Hermione, making sure to flick it just right so the vine wood wand landed in her own outstretched hand. The Gryffindor looked scandalised as Lockhart approached.
"Now, as impressive a display as that may have been, girls, I did say to disarm only," the man chided, though was mainly ignored. Jasmine was currently on the verge of cursing herself for revealing her recent developments into wandless magic-after advice from her mother's notebook. "However, Miss Potter emerged victorious, well done. I think however, that that is enough for tonight. Miss Granger, would you please stay behind to help me clean up."
She walked over to the bushy haired witch carefully, holding the vine wood wand outstretched.
"You cheated," Hermione stated firmly as she snatched her wand.
"I used the resources at my disposal," Jasmine corrected, "and besides, were this a proper duel where I could go all out, you wouldn't have lasted anywhere near that long." It was true as well, considering her ebony wand was shaped for duelling and she was gradually learning spells of a darker nature that were far more powerful than those taught in school.
Apparently though, that wasn't the right thing to say, as the Gryffindor simply huffed, and walked over to Lockhart. With a sigh, Jasmine turned to head back to Ravenclaw. At least the evening had been interesting. Certainly, duelling Hermione had been an experience, and possibly an insight into her mind.
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A/N: Mentions of rape.
"I wrestled the wolf to the ground, and forcibly applied the Homorphus Charm, reverting him to human form," Lockhart said, giving his patented white grin. Honestly, Jasmine swore he must have discovered muggle teeth whitener.
"How did you manage that, Professor?" she inquired from her seat, and Lockhart spun to stare at her.
"Pardon me?" he said confusedly.
"Well, the Homorphus Charm is legend, and has been lost for several centuries. Not to mention, it is regularly referred to as ritualistic and taking a long time to cast, not something used quickly in a fist-fight," she answered, knowing full well he would not be able to answer her, just wishing to gain an insight into how much he actually knew about the situation-after all, the werewolf would have had to existed or people would refute his claims. Wouldn't they?
"Well, I, er…that is to say," he suddenly seemed awkward, "well, I'm afraid I don't have time for that, the lesson is over." He looked at the clock like it was a life saver. "But I would be happy to answer your question if you would stay behind now."
Somewhat curious, she nodded, and stayed seated as the rest of the class departed.
"You know," Lockhart began as the door closed and they were alone, "your insistent questions can be very aggravating as a teacher. Still, I suppose it just means I'll enjoy punishing you that much more, Imperio!" Jasmine's confused frown went slack as she was taken by surprise by the unforgiveable.
Her mind felt like she was moving through treacle, and there was a little voice pushing at her to sit still like a good girl. She couldn't hear things properly, a sound not unlike white noise at her ears muffling things, but she could see, even if it felt like it was through another person. And what she saw was Lockhart unbuckling his belt and…
Even in an essentially drugged state, her formidable mind really didn't need at all long to come to a conclusion, and fight like hell.
'No, no, no, no, no, HELL NO,' she thought, pushing past the feelings of lethargy and swam against the current to wrench back control of herself, pushing the waves of magic from her castle mindscape, using her occlumency training to focus herself.
"No," slipped past her lips as she pushed to regain control of her body. Lockhart reeled back as if struck, and made for his wand quickly.
"Obliv-," she was faster than him, just, her desperation fuelling her wandless banisher that had gotten much stronger since her duel with Hermione. She quickly followed up with flicking her wand down from her wrist holster, disarming him swiftly, and then tying him to a chair with ropes. "Now, ah, Miss Potter, there's a very simple way to explain all of this," he said weakly with that damned annoying smile of his.
"Silencio," she growled, ending any begging he might have done. Her mind was working ten-to-the-dozen as facts grouped together in her head to create theories, and her memory alluded to multiple times during the past few months when a student had been kept back after class. Always female. "Hermione," she whispered under her breath, her mind replaying the girl being asked to stay behind after the duelling club… She stalked over to Lockhart, anger and fear driving her hateful expression. If he had so much as touched her Hermione. "Legilimens," she incanted, her wand-tip resting on his forehead, and he screamed as she none-too-gently blasted through his mind.
For the first time in a long while, she felt a pit of disgust open in her stomach as she viewed his life. He was a con-man first and foremost, as he could cast barely any spells except for some skill in charms, especially memory ones. He tracked down great witches and wizards, stole their story, and obliviated them so they'd never remember. He was obsessed with his fame and money, and routinely used the former to sleep with every woman he could get; from housewives to barely legal fangirls. And then he'd come to Hogwarts, and his mind had seen the lack of any adult relief apart from accomplished professors he daren't face, and set his sights on…the children. Her stomach actually turned as she watched him use students, and then wipe their memories of the event, but she pushed through it, aiming for one specific person. Relief flooded Jasmine as she watched Hermione throw off the Imperius even quicker than she had, but was caught by Lockhart's obliviate before she could act.
Withdrawing from his mind, she looked upon the man with revulsion. She may have headed up a criminal empire, but using children for sexual needs? She made a note to look into Rosa's business and insure she wasn't actively perpetrating anything similar.
"Stupefy, obliviate," she said quietly, using the man's own favourite charm against him as she wiped memories past the point where she bound him, and made it seem like she had stunned him immediately. No need for the world to know of her talent with the arts of the mind, even if her legilimency was still quite basic, and she was nowhere near close to wandless, let alone the surface-skimming of Dumbledore. This man, if he could be called as much… "Expecto Patronum," she incanted, silver mist forming from the end of her wand until a raven appeared, hopping on the ground. "This is Jasmine Potter, Lockhart is a rapist. Send aurors," she said clearly, before flicking her wand to send the ethereal bird on its way to the Ministry. She then turned hateful eyes upon Lockhart. Oh, there would be blood. She would exact bloody vengeance on him for even trying to hurt her Hermione, but first she would ruin what he held dear; his fame and his sterling reputation.
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"This is a bloody mess," Bones said as she watched her aurors drag the blond man away, none too gently either.
"I should say so, Madame Bones. I always suspected there was something fishy about his books, but this…how many could he have…?" Jasmine replied, playing up the traumatised schoolgirl slightly. Not too much as to be someone who an adult would patronise, but Madame Bones didn't seem that type.
"We don't know, yet," she growled, eyeing the man with hatred. Naturally of course, since she herself had a niece in first year, her only living relative.
"Dumbledore is probably going to try and brush this under the carpet, isn't he?" she stated more than asked.
"Yes, he is," Bones replied, looking down at the ravenette with interest. "It will hardly reflect well upon him that one of his own staff members…" she trailed off, not wanting to complete that sentence in front of a little girl most likely.
"Well, we'll soon see about that," Jasmine muttered.
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Dear Parent,
I write to you as to a matter of some urgency, regarding an important matter of a serious crime committed within Hogwarts, and has affected your daughter. I would request that at 3pm tomorrow, you come to Diagon Alley to hear the news first-hand.
Yours sincerely
Jasmine Potter
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The alley was fairly packed before the simple wooden stage, clearly more than just the parents she had sent letters to turning up-just as she'd hoped. Several reporters were at the front as well, eagerly holding cameras for a glimpse of the girl-who-lived. Well, hopefully the story she'd give them would be fuelled by even more than her famous status.
As she ascended up the steps to the stage, the rowdy crowd went quiet. For many, it was likely a special event, seeing the famous girl, and Jasmine wished she could have used it on a more favourable occasion, where she could use it to her advantage. But she still wanted to bring Lockhart down, for what he'd tried to do to her Hermione. Casting a quick charm on her throat, she moved to centre stage.
"Thank-you all, for coming," she said in her amplified voice, allowing a few camera flashes to flare, taking in her pristine Hogwarts uniform with the blue trim. "Although I wish it were under happier circumstances. Before I continue, I would first like to say I am really, truly sorry to those of you here today because you received a letter from myself, as it means a terrible thing." She waited for the whispers to die down before continuing, well aware of the many eyes trained on her. "What I am about to tell you, even now Professor Dumbledore is likely attempting to hush up, which is my reason for unveiling it to the public. Gilderoy Lockhart is a fake." Whispers again moved through the crowd, it moving as people shuffled to get a look at her. "He took the stories of better witches and wizards, obliviated them, and wrote his books. But that is not the worst he has done. There is no easy way to say this, but in his time at Hogwarts he has molested a number of the female students." Uproar moved throughout the crowd, shouts and bellows of disbelief. "To those of you," she started again, the noise quieting as she spoke, "who have received a letter from me, I am sorry for what it means as I believe you will now understand." The horrified and dumbstruck faces amongst the crowd told her enough. This was her plan, to get the parents as angry as they could get. At least some of them would be on the Wizengamot, and the weight they could pull would be more than enough to secure a public trial, despite Dumbledore's attempts at a quiet one she knew he was working on. "That is what I came here to say, thank-you again for coming."
"Miss Potter!" called a reporter's voice from the front of the crowd, "how do you know this is the truth?"
"Because he attempted to do it to me," she replied, "I am only standing before you because I threw off his Imperius curse-which seems to be his modus operandi-and was a quicker draw than him."
"Why would Dumbledore attempt to cover this up?" yelled another.
"Well, I obviously cannot understand his real motives, but I doubt it reflects well upon him as the school's headmaster that he hired a rapist and allowed him to commit those crimes under his very nose," she replied, trying to keep the smile from her face. 'Take that, Dumbles. You are not controlling me, you are not my magical guardian, and you can go fuck yourself,' she thought triumphantly.
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"Jasmine, I would like you to retract your statements of yesterday afternoon," Dumbledore stated in his grandfatherly tone. She laughed in his wrinkled old face.
"And why would I do that?" she replied.
"Because you made untrue allegations about myself; I was not trying to 'hush it up' as you described."
"Yes you were, don't try to patronise me," she said derisively. "You attempted to have Lockhart incarcerated straight in Azkaban without trial, and without actually declaring his crimes-rather similar to Sirius Black, actually, and I wonder who else."
"How would you know anything about that?" he said quietly.
"The same way I know you've been trying to access my Gringotts vault," she said coldly. "Which you have no right to do. I'll be clear, Professor, stay out of my business, and quit your meddling before it finds you in a tighter spot than this one." She stood, and made to leave before a question stopped her.
"Why are you doing this Jasmine?" Dumbledore asked, his tone still unchanged from that patronising grandfather persona.
"Tell me," she said neutrally, "did you ever know Vernon Dursley? Or Petunia? The answer is no, as you and I both know you have met Petunia only once, before she was married, and never her lard-barrel of a husband, or his miniature version of himself. And yet, you saw fit to place a child on their doorstep in the middle of the night-in November I might add-with nothing but a letter. Now, I ask you," she turned to look at him, "what bloody right did you have to do that?"
As she closed the door, and walked down the stairs, she mused over the persona she was creating. 'Should be enough to throw him off, certainly doubt he'll ever be able to connect me to Adler if he's too busy working out my childhood issues. Helps that those were real, of course,' she thought.
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Lockhart was, of course, absolutely crucified in the court of public opinion. In a population so small, everyone had family at Hogwarts, and it was easier to count those who didn't want the ponce's balls spiked onto a wall.
He was distinctly dishevelled at the trial from his normal looks, his shining locks no longer holding their lustre or their size as they drooped.
He sang like a canary though, under veritaserum, about his numerous crimes. He was taken into private however, to divulge the names of those he molested, to save publically saying their names.
Eventually the sentence was life in Azkaban, and even then the crowd shouted for the kiss.
Of course, he never made it to Azkaban Island.
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"Gilderoy, Gilderoy," Jasmine said as she walked down the steps to the floor of the circular dungeon chamber. "You have been a very, very bad boy."
"Where am I?" he asked fearfully, looking around at the stone brick walls.
"Somewhere no-one will hear your screams, and even the crows won't find your corpse. Oh, you didn't think you'd got off as lightly as Azkaban did you?" she enjoyed looking into his terrified eyes through her glasses. This little dungeon cell would open for her and her alone, and he would never leave alive, so she didn't feel bad when she removed her glasses and allowed the man to see her face.
"You?" he stated incredulously.
"Yes, me," she replied annoyedly, shrugging off her coat which accounted for all the glamours affecting her now, and draped it over a chair nearby. "Now tell me, do you know what you're sitting in?" Strapped to was more like it, to be fair. "No? It's a dentist's chair. Specifically one that got recently thrown out by a clinic run by Emma and Daniel Granger. Now isn't that interesting." His fearful face told her it was anything but. "And some of these," she picked up a metal instrument from the largely expanded table attached to the chair, "are dentist's tools. Not all, but I felt it fitting I use them."
"Use them?" he said hoarsely.
"That's right," she played with a scalpel, "use them. On you, to be precise. You see, Miss Granger doesn't remember what you tried to do to her, and she never will. Her parents as well, do not know, and will likely never be informed as to what happened, as the magical world treats muggles so badly, and Hermione will never want to tell them lest she be removed from Hogwarts. So, this is me getting revenge in their stead, and not just a little for myself. You see," she leaned into his face, a malice-filled look in her eyes, "she is mine. And you attempted to hurt her. No-one gets away with that." She wrinkled her nose as the scent of urine filled the air, and she flicked her wand from her sleeve and cast a charm to clear up the mess. "Now, time to hook you up to this," she pulled an IV drip over, deliberately showing off the needle, "this, has a little cocktail I worked up-I'm good with potions-and it will keep you with nutrition, and a bit of energy, and stop you from sleeping as much as possible, and generally keep you alive. Don't get me wrong, you are going to die in this room Gilderoy, but it is not happening any time soon."
"Please," he begged, "have mercy."
"Sorry, all out of mercy."
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Greyback happened to be waiting outside the cell when she left it, still wiping blood from her hands.
"What does Moriarty want with that bloke?" he inquired, pointing to the door.
"He's a favour to me," she muttered in reply. Realising she should probably give a reason; she quickly came up with a cover. "There is only one member of my family I care about, and she happens to be studying at Hogwarts."
"Right," Greyback said, understanding showing in his eyes, "should I go dispose of his corpse?"
"He's not dead, Fenrir," she said, not even noticing her slip into first names, "and he's not going to be dead for a while. I have a long way to go yet before I allow him death."
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Greyback commented.
"I'll be sure to warn you," she replied, walking off with hundreds of thoughts in her head. It had thrilled her, what she had done, perversely. She had enjoyed exacting every last bit of pain from that bastard, I had felt good. And that scared her somewhat.
A/N: To mention for those who missed it; Jasmine is starting Second Year in September 2007 to make ease for certain plans.
