A/N: It's a long way to the top if you want to rock'n'roll. There's a reference to quite a big writer in this chapter that I imagine a lot of people will get.
Also, I've apparently been proven wrong as to the discrete/discreet spelling. I've been using the 'discrete' spelling because I see it so much in mathematics and I never realised it actually had a different meaning. Anyway, that's some egg on my face, regardless, and I'll try and remember to go back and change that next time I do a 'sweep.' And apologies to a certain guest reviewer are in order.
And finally, I'd like to thank everyone for the assurances and advice in reviews – I've replied to several of you, but I'd like to add this in as well to all of you. The continued support really is appreciated, and it boggles my mind how popular this story now is. I will further add that you may just see a few of your ideas popping up at some point.
And back again for more; I've had to deal with a lot of irl stuff of late which is causing me massive problems – not least my room being flooded thanks to bloody shoddy cowboy builders. So, I have done no writing or checking over of the finished chapters. I do have two other finished chapters, so the update schedule should still be maintained for at least two more weeks but I'm worried about the time beyond that. In short, please don't expect too much of me right now – both in writing quantity and quality.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.
Chapter 12
Ivy Manor was a fairly nice looking building, Jasmine decided as she stalked around it. Construction had finished a few weeks ago, and the muggle construction crews had had their minds wiped of the location before the magicals started moving in to add a few little things. Such as the extensive ward system, including each private room being lockable to the extreme, and the whole place being practically undetectable to the Ministry who would register no magic-usage build-up under these wards.
It was not the only place she had commissioned to be built over the last year, but it was the most important. Containing rooms for her lieutenants, and what amounted to a barracks for her 'soldiers'. Extensive basement areas held supplies and various other things, and generally the building was more of a fortress or head of command than the unassuming idyllic manor it appeared to be, with ivy climbing the walls and a garden hemmed in by trees to mask the target ranges and such.
'Of course, this is the most important room,' she thought as she opened the tall doors to the meeting room.
The long ebony table was elegant in its simplicity, slightly curved along the sides and with artfully carved legs. The chairs too, were crafted from finest ebony, with tall pointed backs into which was carved an 'M' motif, fine green upholstery, and evenly spaced down the table. Although, the chair upon one end was slightly different, being more akin to a throne really, since she hadn't been able to resist, and was more squared off and solid than the others, as well as shrouded in shadow from one of only two light sources in the room. Said lamps were located behind Moriarty's chair – because of course it was his chair – and on the opposite wall at the far end of the table. Said opposite wall held a door that lead through to his 'study,' read, war-room.
As Jasmine moved into said adjoining room, she smiled at the fireplace with a pair of crossed swords above it, the bookshelves lining the room, and the giant map of Great Britain and Ireland with pins sticking in it taking up one wall.
This represented the conquest she had put forward. Dark green pins were all over the map, signifying their work, and sorted with a further dot of colour on the end. A white dot stood for a legitimate business, black was a more illegal business, yellow was a warehouse, and purple was a safe house or base of operations such as this one, albeit the others being smaller and more like barracks. The number of green pins was something that made Jasmine feel more than a little proud.
Bronze pins stood for neutrals of note, mainly the houses where those neutral politicians lived.
Finally, red pins dotted the map here-and-there representing threats. Hogwarts was naturally top of the list, as well as the Ministry. Further locations and businesses which opposed or infringed upon their own were listed as well.
And, of course, she had spent much of the first two weeks of this Summer going to all of the places with a green pin and carving a few small runes into the wardstones and writing the corresponding ones into separate ledgers which now rested on a shelf neatly stacked with green covers and golden titles for each group of building.
She had learned a great deal from the Marauder's Map, and applying it here had been simple since she wasn't making a map, merely registering who was in the buildings at current times – so they would know if a safe house was in use or the like – and also allow the owners or residents to send emergency messages to the books here and back to the location as well.
From here, all of Moriarty's dealings in England could be managed.
Naturally, the room was warded to ridiculous degrees, including blood wards she herself had installed, keyed to three people: herself, Greyback, and Scabior. Perhaps in time more might be added, but for now she was playing it safe. She was well aware just how much damage could be done if the information concealed here was revealed to a dangerous party. It was why the room shut itself off from the rest of the manor in every way possible as soon as the outer wards of the building registered a breach and if the wards of the room itself were broken through, explosive potions in the walls would destroy everything within – she was taking no chances when guarding the very heart of her growing empire.
'It's nearly show time,' Jasmine thought to herself as she took the second door out of the room into the top corridor of the building where Moriarty's three captains – including herself as Adler of course – had sets of rooms. Moving past the – again, blood warded – door to her own rooms, she prepared for the evening to come.
###################################################################################
The room was dark, and the atmosphere tense as the various occupants of the chairs looked around at each other – bar the woman who sat at the far-right seat of the table, who was busily taking and shuffling notes with a quill, still not having removed her customary sunglasses that obscured her face despite the low-light.
Gathered in the room, were the leaders of a criminal empire after all – the Mafioso's awaiting their godfather.
At the end of the table closest to the empty throne sat the three Captains – Adler, Greyback and Scabior. All knew or had dealt with the former at one point or another, and most the latter two as well. Next to Adler was Fox, and to the sweating man's right the woman known as Rosa. At Greyback's side was another werewolf, his oldest lieutenant who didn't speak much more beyond grunts. Further down the table came more business runners, drug smugglers, and even an investment handler by the name of Hound. All gathered to await one man, none saying a word.
"Gathered friends," declared a sudden, cultured voice, and people looked to the throne as a cloaked figure sat upon it who hadn't been there a moment before. As he shifted, silver runes flickered in what little light there was upon his cloak. "What a heartening sight to see us all here, at our first biannual meeting, in this newly built room. Not so long ago, many of you were purposeless, but now we stand together in a might of empire the likes of which have never been seen in this country. All we have done and built is a great achievement, but the greatest is yet to come." He leaned back heavily in his seat, and several onlookers had to suppress the desire to look under the mysterious man's hood. "So let us begin," Moriarty eventually stated.
###################################################################################
With a rolling of her muscles, Jasmine faded back into visibility, restoring life to her limbs as she shook about a bit in the privacy of her rooms. Staying perfectly still was a brilliant way to unnerve people and make yourself seem like a commanding presence, but it really had made her feel stiff. 'Note to self, add cushioning charms to the throne,' she thought to herself as she shrugged off her invisibility cloak and threw it over a sofa, quickly followed by her amulet. With a stray hand, she scratched the back of her freed hair as she watched the door open once more and an identical version of herself walk out – bar the glasses obscuring her face.
"Two turns?" she asked her older self, already pulling the time turner from beneath her robes – the amount of money and resources she'd expended to get ahold of one of these would boggle the mind, but it was likely to be worth it with all she could achieve.
"If I tell you that now, you won't remember it," the other woman replied, levying a wand straight at her head.
"Ah, of course. Well I should remind you, then, that the chair needs cushioning charms," she responded.
"Obliviate."
Jasmine blinked, before looking around briefly at the other version of herself standing in the middle of her rooms at Ivy Manor.
"Two turns," her duplicate stated, before turning to walk into the bathroom.
Noticing the time turner already in her hands, she twisted the little golden disk over twice, watching as the world seemed to blur slightly before slowing down to her standing exactly where she previously was, two hours earlier.
Gathering some writing utensils and some parchment to take notes with, she proceeded towards the meeting room.
'Two more hours, and then I can have a rest,' flittered across her mind.
###################################################################################
"Well, they've achieved something at least," the ravenette stated as she looked around the clean entrance hall, although she eyed a large set of curtains that appeared to be nailed back with wariness. She didn't want to have to deal with Walburga Black again.
Stepping carefully through the entryway while making as little noise as possibly, she peeked her head into the living room. This appeared to be where the duo had made camp, if its clean – if dilapidated – look said anything when mixed with the two mattresses on the floor, and several empty bottles of fire whiskey between the two snoring men. She debated summoning Kreacher to dump a bucket of cold water on them – which he would likely do with glee – but decided against it, as it wouldn't be particularly good for Sirius' health most likely.
"Rennervate," she said twice instead, watching as the two men were wrenched from sleep and then immediately began groaning and clutching their heads. "That big of a binge last night?"
"Shh," protested Sirius, "not so loud." Remus merely groaned.
"Sounds like you had fun," Jasmine commented, "how far have you got as far as cleaning goes?"
"Ground floor's done, and we blitzed the stairs. Merlin my head," Sirius replied as he sat up, "started work on my old bedroom, but that room has been abandoned and empty even longer than the rest of this place."
"I'm surprised your mother didn't torch it after you left, if her portrait is anything to go by," she responded. "How are you doing?"
"I'm good, minus the hangover," he said, "I need coffee."
"I had a feeling you might say that," she pulled a packet of instant from an expanded pocket, "I meant to give this to Remus back on day one."
"Gimme!" the man lunged for it, and she didn't move as he fell face-first into the coffee table by overextending. The aforementioned werewolf snorted at the sight, apparently having recovered enough to crawl up into an armchair.
"I could do with a cup of that as well," the man stated.
"Me first," Black almost growled, and Jasmine couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the antics of the pair.
"You're like children," she said amusedly as she conjured two mugs and pulled a bottle of water from an extended pocket, unscrewing the cap and adding a measure of coffee first and then some water before applying a basic heating charm.
"How much do you have in those pockets?" Remus asked, staring at where she had pulled the two litre bottle from.
"Everything needed for basic survival in a pinch," she replied, "and before you say anything about paranoia; it isn't paranoia if they really are out to get you."
"Who?" Sirius asked confusedly while he grabbed one of the mugs as it began steaming.
"I'm the girl-who-lived," she answered drily as she handed the other mug to a grateful werewolf, "who isn't after me? It's either mass-murdering Death Eaters," she gestured at Sirius, "or rabid reporters, or maybe it's just your bog-standard annoyance on one day or another like Voldemort and his fifty-foot basilisk."
"And?" her godfather asked with a raised eyebrow.
"And," she confirmed, perfectly seriously. "However I'm soon off to go brave a more difficult beast: politics. I've exchanged a few letters with someone who may be able to help us get you a trial." He sat up at that. "Don't get too excited yet. Her family may be old allies of House Potter, but she only knows me as a friend of her granddaughter's, and she absolutely hates your family name. I have a bit of work to do, and I can't just come out and say 'I have Sirius Black, and he's innocent, you mind helping us out?'"
"Are you talking about Augusta Longbottom?" Remus asked curiously as he cautiously sipped his coffee.
"Got it in one," Jasmine replied. "This will be my first time meeting her, but Nadia tends to talk about her being quite the battle-axe."
"Piece of advice," the man stated, "don't try to bullshit her."
###################################################################################
This was the day – finally – after an agonising two weeks, her semi-pseudo-maybe-girlfriend was back from a trip to France with her parents. They hadn't had much time to explore feelings at the end of term, having been too short a timeframe.
But now, she was back, and Jasmine had booked a very out-of-the-way booth at a nice Italian restaurant in muggle London, luckily not too far from Diagon Alley so both of them were able to floo in. The ravenette currently sat on the red cushion of the circular bench, perusing the menu idly as she awaited her date.
When a waiter finally escorted a blushing girl to the booth, she couldn't help but smile at the radiant sight.
"Ciao la mia bellezza," Jasmine said as the girl shuffled along onto the bench across the small round table from her.
"Jasmine!" the girl just about hissed at her, "I didn't realise you meant a restaurant like this!" Hermione gestured at her more smart-casual clothing of a simple summer dress overlaid with a dark jacket.
"Sorry, couldn't help myself, and I think you look great," the girl replied with a sheepish smile, before turning to the still waiting man, and spoke in rapid Italian for a moment. Once he finished writing upon a small notebook, he bowed and left quickly.
"What was that?" she asked, clearly not having understood a word.
"I was just ordering us some mineral water and a plate of ravioli to start; pasta is generally a good thing to start with and I've heard this place is very good. Hope you'll forgive me for being a little presumptuous," she gave another guilty smile.
"I didn't know you spoke Italian," the girl decided on saying rather than protesting her making a choice for her.
"I used to teach myself languages to amuse myself in school before I came to Hogwarts, along with some advanced mathematics, which has come in quite useful in Arithmancy," Jasmine replied.
"Are you sure we should discuss school here? I mean this is a muggle place…" the bushy-haired girl said in a low whisper.
"Localised silencing ward over the table," Jasmine replied, picking up a previously unnoticed small and round piece of slate with a few runes on it, "plus we're in quite an out-of-the-way location. I felt you'd appreciate some privacy."
"You're implying you don't," Hermione said with a small smile.
"Well, I suppose a little, but at the same time I want to climb the tallest building in London and proclaim to the skies that I'm dating the most incredible woman I've ever met," that wrought another delicious blush from the girl's face.
"I suppose this does count as a date," she relented after a few moments, "but this place seems a bit much."
"I'll confess, I like nice food, and that at a place like this, you can receive some peace and quiet and no questions asked," she smiled a little, "it's one of the things I like about the muggle world – I have anonymity."
"Is the girl-who-lived hype that bad?" the Gryffindor inquired curiously.
"Not always, but no matter where I am I get stares, or the occasional person coming over to thank me or something. There's less in school, since people acclimate to the fact I exist fairly quickly, but the last two years I've caught first years early on sneaking into the library to catch a glimpse of me, and then running away giggling when I notice them. It can get annoying."
"I can imagine," Hermione stated drily.
"It's not even the fame that's the worst part," she added, "it's the fact that they all have an image of something that's nothing to do with me. All of this fame comes from my mother dying for me; it's nothing to do with me as a person."
"Except for killing a basilisk."
"Well, yes I did that, but the rest is all just hype and nonsense over someone who doesn't exist. Jasmine Potter is nothing like the girl-who-lived." 'By a lot more than I care to mention,' she added silently, thinking of her various criminal enterprises that would turn the nation's view of her upside-down. "But enough of my ranting; how was France?"
The bushy-haired girl launched into anecdotes about various French vineyards and historical monuments she had visited with her parents, only stopping as the food arrived with a chilled bottle of water.
"I'll confess, once I'm legal to, I would quite like to take a drive along the Riviera from Monaco to Rome or Naples and see the sights along the way," Jasmine said before popping a piece of ravioli in her mouth, savouring the taste.
"Maybe steal a fortune in gold bullion?" Hermione replied lightly, making the ravenette frown.
"I'm sorry, what?" she asked with confusion.
"Have you never seen the Italian Job?" the muggleborn said with wide eyes.
"I'm going to presume that's a film and thereby say no," Jasmine replied, spearing another piece of her pasta, "I never got to do such things as going to the cinema in my childhood."
"Why not?" The question gave her pause – how best to say this? Lying while using the truth tended to be the most effective method.
"The family I was placed with after my parents died both knew of the existence of magic, and loathed it wholeheartedly. And naturally, they hated myself by extension," she explained, trying to gauge Hermione's open-jawed expression.
"Is that an understatement meaning you had an abusive childhood?"
"In short, yes," she answered blithely. "Before you ask the follow-up questions; the man is dead, caught in a car accident not long after I entered Hogwarts, and his wife died in a house fire – most likely she had forgotten how to operate something in the kitchen, considering I did most of the cooking when I lived with them." That was a mix of truth and lie – she had done most of the cooking while under their roof, but Petunia had died before the house went up in flames.
"Why did you never say anything?" the girl replied, aghast.
"I didn't feel it needed saying – I haven't seen them since before I left for Hogwarts," she smiled slightly, "a little advantage of the oversights of bureaucracy is that Dumbledore has assured everyone I am 'quite safe' with my muggle relatives and no-one need inquire – least of all himself – and that means no-one from the magical world knows of my guardians or where they lived, or indeed the fact they're dead. Equally, in the muggle world, I don't legally exist – no birth certificate or anything, Jasmine Potter simply is non-existent."
"That's why you never go home in the holidays," the girl stated.
"Exactly; and during these past summers, I've just rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron – although it's not as luxurious, it's more convenient than the muggle world."
"Bloody hell."
"You seem quite disturbed."
"That's because I am."
"You needn't worry yourself unduly, Hermione. What's in the past is in the past, and the future is bright for me once I turn seventeen and get to be a rich heiress," she grinned, "I was personally thinking of a small country manor with a fully-equipped potions lab and a well-stocked library."
"Still, the fact that you're essentially on your own…"
"Oh, come now, Hermione. I do not require a parental figure to lead me by the hand through the trouble and strife of the world until I'm of age; you and I both have mental maturities which exceed those our peers will reach in another ten years."
"It's just so alien of an idea to me; I've always had my parents around to help me out when I've needed it, or to stand by me."
"Doctors Daniel and Emma Granger," Jasmine stated, "members of the most feared group in this world."
"What?" Hermione asked with surprise.
"The British Dental Association," Jasmine answered ruefully, wringing a laugh from her companion.
"I thought you were referring to…never mind."
"What?"
"My dad spent several years with what my mother refers to as his 'Sports and Social' club before I was born." Jasmine's eyebrow rose at the name.
"And here was me thinking I'd only have to worry about him polishing his shotgun; should I bring a Kevlar vest if I ever get to meet them?"
"Um," the girl pushed around her last piece of pasta on her plate, "that may be a week today." She said the last part very quickly, but it was hardly enough to stop Jasmine understanding.
"I'm meeting them a week today?"
"They asked me to invite you to dinner; they want to meet you."
"Did you tell them about…" she gestured at the pair of them.
"Yes, well, mum sort of guessed."
"Right." This promised to be awkward.
###################################################################################
"I think that went well," Jasmine stated as she closed the door after following Hermione into her bedroom in the Granger family's home. "Apart from when your father showed me that pistol of his mother's and asked if he needed to give it to you."
"He was pretty happy with your answer; I think he likes you," Hermione replied as she settled on her bed. She had of course told the man that, yes, he should, as she'd prefer the girl be as defended as possible, regardless of whom from.
Still, the overall impression was that the Grangers were a very nice couple. Getting on slightly in age, Daniel showed some grey hair by his ears, neatly trimmed back and suiting him in a dignified way that added to his still-toned build. Emma was more rosy faced, and she was the source of the bushy-hair it seemed, but was a very kind woman who had aged very well, not seeming that far over thirty and looking very much like what Hermione would when older, which boded well.
"Well, you've taken me to something of your choice, would you now allow me to do the same?" Jasmine brokered hesitantly.
"Are we taking turns?" Hermione replied amusedly, "because if so, this wasn't my choice but my parents', and you had the last outing at that restaurant."
"True, but I'm going to ask you anyway. First, I'm going to presume you've received your Hogwarts letter?" At the girl's nod, she continued. "And I'll also presume you saw the dress robes among the requirements?"
"Yes; I'll confess to being a bit confused."
"For a woman, they amount to a dress rather than robes; it's just a formality and makes it a unisex term. I was hoping you would accompany me to Twilfitt and Tattings' to be measured for your dress when you are going to Diagon – I have some plans for something special."
"I wasn't going to bother with whatever social event required a dress; you know I'm not a fan of them. Do you know what it's for?"
"A Yule Ball."
"But, there hasn't been one of those since the Triwizard Tournament was last held," Hermione cocked her head in confusion, likely quoting passages from her beloved 'Hogwarts: A History' in her head.
"Which would lead you to deduce…?"
"You're kidding?"
"Not at all; for the first time in more than two centuries, Hogwarts will host the Triwizard Tournament this year."
"God, and that's on top of the World Cup final in the last week of the holidays. Speaking of which, has Nadia talked to you yet?"
"No?" the ravenette replied, it being her turn to look confused.
"She was thinking of going, and was wondering if we'd feel like to come as well."
"As much as I enjoy racing about on a broom, I'm still not a fan of organised sports," she said in reply, "it's just not my sort of thing."
"Nor mine, but it's still a special occasion – none of the teams in the British Isles has reached the finals in a few years, and we haven't hosted it in longer."
"Yes, but it's almost a foregone conclusion that Ireland will win – anyone who understands statistics will see that they have the stronger overall team – and the only chance Bulgaria has is if they get an early snitch catch, which is how they got to the final in the first place."
"That rather takes the fun out of it."
"I never particularly saw the fun in attending 'spectator sports' anyway."
###################################################################################
'I very much doubt this is anyone's idea of fun,' Jasmine thought as she regarded the front page news the day after the Quidditch World Cup. The fact that Ireland had indeed won wasn't even on the front title, which was crowned with a picture of the Dark Mark glowing green in the sky. Apparently, a few of Lucius' old pals decided to have some fun with the muggles upon whose land the cup was held. 'This is likely going to cause problems. Then again, I can probably make a profit running off of people's fear like when Black escaped – self-defence books shot up in price on that day.'
###################################################################################
As she read the article, she became more and more glad she and Hermione had chosen not to attend, and thereby Nadia by extension.
"Mr Malfoy, please, have a seat," Jasmine gestured to the chair opposite her. To her expert eye, the man appeared slightly harried and stressed, which was unusual for the man. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"A matter of some importance has arisen," he answered with a scowl, "that leave me requiring certain…services." The ravenette leaned back in her green chair at that information. If he meant what she thought he did, why would he be needing such a thing? "I presume you are aware of the events at the Quidditch world cup yesterday?"
"I'll assume you mean your old friends and yourself having some fun after the match, and not Ireland's win," she replied.
"Yes, well…" he didn't deny it, she noted, "the Ministry managed to capture one of those in a mask, and intend to question him with veritaserum by the end of tomorrow, perhaps today depending on how much Bones can push for it."
"Ah," Jasmine echoed in understanding, "who is the unlucky fellow?"
"Gregory Goyle, Snr." he answered. "As much as it is a pain to do so, I must assure that he is suitably silenced before he can spill certain secrets, if you understand my meaning."
"Yes, yes, if they manage to question him certain things will come to light and Bones will destroy your old Imperius defence," Lucius bristled, but said nothing. "I can have him hang himself by the end of this afternoon, for a fee of course, although I'm surprised you're willing to do this to one of your house's oldest allies."
"Needs must, and he has a son to continue the line."
###################################################################################
"How's Snuffles doing?" Jasmine asked the man opposite her as they sat in an out-of-the-way booth in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Getting better; the books on occlumency have helped him a lot, I think, as he's certainly waking up fitfully less and less, and is generally sleeping longer," Remus replied, cradling his mug of coffee. "And he doesn't look quite so much like an emaciated skeleton anymore."
"That's good," she said, "he hopefully shouldn't have to wait much longer than a few more weeks – I'm making good inroads with Madame Longbottom, even if she is suspicious that I'm hiding something. It's just heading back to school which will make it more difficult."
"Well, you need your education."
"Education is what remains after one has forgotten everything learnt in school – Albert Einstein."
###################################################################################
After the hesitant clapping for the announced Professor Moody had died down, Dumbledore began speaking once again.
"Now this year, I'm afraid the Quidditch cup will not be running," various shocked gasps, and even boos were heard from the die-hard fans like Oliver Wood. "This is because," the hall quieted as the old man began to speak once more, "it has been decided, that for the first time in many years, Hogwarts will be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament." 'More like the Ministry went over your head and ordered you to accept it,' Jasmine added silently as the room was again filled with whispers. "To this end, we will be receiving delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang tomorrow afternoon. As such, lessons will start on Tuesday, not tomorrow. The competitor from each school will be selected next Monday evening."
###################################################################################
"A ship and a flying carriage; this is a pissing contest to see who can make the biggest entrance," Nadia said drily as the delegations from the two foreign schools walked across the Hogwarts lawns.
"Yes," Jasmine felt she should say more, but was drawn inexorably to a stunning blonde girl at the head of the procession from Beauxbatons next to their enormous headmistress. She blinked when thoughts invaded her head of the young woman would be like to kiss, and in equal measure how her hands would feel squeezing the life from her pretty little throat. It was quite jarring to have such contradictory thoughts without even having talked to the girl or knowing her name. When she looked up and saw many members of Hogwarts' male population staring at her, several with noticeable 'excitement' showing, she understood what must be happening. 'Veela allure,' she concluded. Apparently, as someone of her predilection, she was both prey and competition to the beast inside the blonde, hence her conflicting emotions.
Stocking up the barricades in her mind, and strengthening her control over her occlumency freed her from the feelings, but it was slightly annoying to have to concentrate upon what she now visualised as a slight pink-tinged mist attempting to seep into her mental Hogwarts. Her form of mental ordering was very good for defence against proper legilimency attacks, but less effective against this.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" the question from Nadia broke the other Gryffindor from a slight funk of staring at a certain someone's posterior – okay, now Jasmine wanted to wring the French beauty's neck of her own volition.
"Sorry, fine," Hermione stated with a brief smile. "I was just… never mind."
###################################################################################
"Don't you kind of wish you could enter?" the brunette proposed.
"God, no," the Ravenclaw answered, "they cancelled that competition because too many people died. It's not at all worth the meagre reward, and I have more than enough fame, thank-you."
###################################################################################
"My name, as many of you will know, is Alastor Moody. I was an Auror for decades, and now it's my job to teach you all how not to get killed," the man gave a disturbing grin, his eye in its leather holster still spinning wildly. "Put it away, Mr Finnegan, and as interesting as I'm sure Teen Witch Weekly is, Miss Brown, it has no place in my classroom." The two offenders looked stunned at the man's ability to see under their desks, and Jasmine gazed at his eye intently. The degree to which the thing must be enchanted was incredible if all she'd heard about the grizzled ex-Auror was true. "Now, you've all had a firm grounding in Dark Creatures last year, and an acceptable degree of simple offensive and defensive spells from Shacklebolt, but it's time you learnt to deal with the really nasty stuff. This is Defence Against the Dark Arts after all. You need to see what you're up against." His grin was toothy and menacing, and more than a few looked at him weirdly. "Now, who can tell me about the Unforgivable curses?" A few hands were tentatively raised, though Jasmine kept hers down – where was he going with this? "You; Miss Granger." He already knew her name? Interesting.
"The Unforgivable curses are so named as their use on any other human being is… unforgivable. Each one earns a direct sentence in Azkaban," the Gryffindor answered.
"Very good, five points," Moody stated, "now, who can name me one, eh? Mr Weasley, how about you?" Said redhead looked petrified at being called upon by the man, but he gulped and gave an answer:
"Um, my dad did tell me about one; the Imperius curse," he replied hesitantly.
"Ah, yes, I'm sure that would have given your father some trouble," the man said cryptically as he walked over to a glass jar and withdrew a spider than he quickly enlarged with a charm. "Imperio," at the incantation, the arachnid staggered a little before straightening up to stand completely still. "The Imperius Curse makes the victim completely under the control of the caster; only strong occlumency – that's the art of guarding of your mind – or great force of will can stop it." With that he led the spider on a merry dance about the classroom, making people laugh when it landed on other people's heads, and being terrified when it hit their own. "Funny, is it? What should I have him do next? Drown himself?" The spider hovered over a glass jar filled with water, desperately scrabbling against the smooth walls for traction. "Or maybe fly out the window?" The spider flew across the room to smash pitifully against the glass panes, sliding down them weakly. "The Imperius curse is no laughing matter, boys and girls; it takes away your free will and makes you do whatever the caster pleases, no matter how horrible." His eyes swept over the room, glaring at them balefully. "Don't make the mistake of thinking it funny; it still carries a straight ticket to Azkaban prison. Now, who can name me another curse? How about you, Miss Longbottom?" The brunette glared at the grizzled man, not the smallest bit of levity in her expression just as there had been none in his previous demonstration.
"The Cruciatus Curse," she eventually stated in reply through gritted teeth.
"Excellent; the pain curse," he turned his wand and casted it on the unfortunate spider, and the class watched as it gave audible keens of pain. "The single most painful thing known to man; feels like liquid hot lava crawling up and down your spine." Nadia couldn't seem to take her eyes off the spider through some kind of morbid curiosity as much of the rest of the class averted their eyes to the scene.
"Stop it," growled Hermione in a lot tone of voice, though Moody plainly heard her.
"And finally, the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra," the lime-green jet of light hit the spider squarely, and it slumped down lifelessly. "Causes instant death; can't be blocked, diverted or in any way stopped by anything less than a physical barrier for it to explode against. It is coalesced hate from the user's mind and few people can cast it who aren't Dark Witches or Wizards. There's only been one known survivor, and she's sitting in this room." Jasmine felt the stares on her as people turned around, and she gave a pained smile. 'Thanks for that one, Moody.' "In time for the next lesson, I will want six inches on Occlumency and guarding your mind from things like the Imperius Curse. Dismissed. Miss Longbottom, would you care to stay behind for a moment?"
"I don't feel that she would, Professor," Hermione answered, a hand around a shaking brunette's waist as she comforted the girl after being confronted with the spell that put her parents in permanent care.
"Hermione," the girl said warningly in return, straightening and pushing away any sign of weakness, "I'll be fine; you go on."
"Nadia…"
"Don't worry about me."
Acquiescing to the girl's wishes, Jasmine and Hermione were the last to leave the classroom, watching as the heavy door swung shut behind them.
"Why is it always something with the defence teachers?" Hermione queried as she moved to wait for her friend.
"Par for the course – apparently the curse has been in place for years," Jasmine answered. "No-one has lasted longer than a year, and it's often due to strange reasons."
"I wonder what Moody's will be."
"At this point, nothing would surprise me."
###################################################################################
Jasmine clapped disinterestedly as Cedric Diggory walked up to the front of the Hall, getting his hand shaken by an ecstatic Ludo Bagman and a severe looking Bartemius Crouch. Her only interest in the tournament was if the current group petitioning the faculty to have Quidditch reinstated for the year succeeded, and thereby she would be obligated to play again.
However, her attention was drawn as the Goblet of Fire's blue flames turned crimson once more, and another piece of paper shot out of the stone basin.
The entire hall was silent as Dumbledore deftly caught the charred parchment.
"Jasmine Potter," the words he spoke softly carried across the space, and made said ravenette stiffen in her seat. 'No…' "Jasmine Potter!" he called again, more loudly as stares were directed right at her.
"What?" she exclaimed loudly.
