.
So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry and Luna at a much younger age and even though Voldemort is no more, she has started to bring other dark wizards to her own form of justice – Alecto Carrow being the first. Christmas 1988 was spent at the Weasleys where Ron and Ginny became friends too. But in March, 1989, Hermione is puzzled by a curious advertisement for a garden centre that shouldn't be there. Now read on...
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Chapter 21
Second Chances
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The Garden of Eden
With a meaningful look, Hermione had persuaded her mother to accompany Hestia and Pandora in taking the children for ice cream. "We need to visit Gringotts, Mum, remember?"
"Oh... yes, that's right."
While Florean Fortescue prepared to bake their Nebraska, Mrs Granger set off with her daughter to exchange gold for Galleons at the bank.
"See you soon!" Hermione called back to her friends.
"Rosemary!" was Luna's final cry as the Grangers rounded the first bend in the alley.
"Now what's this all about, Hermione?" demanded Mrs Granger, once they were out of sight and hearing of the others. "Who's Rosemary?"
"No, Mum, look stop in this doorway and block me from view, I'm going to disappear for a while."
"What! Where to?"
"Don't worry, I'll be right here. Keep holding my hand."
Soundlessly, Hermione faded from view. Mrs Granger frowned. "I feel your glove – but are you still in it?"
Hermione smiled invisibly and squeezed her mother's fingers. "Come on, walk me down the street. We're looking for number 285 but don't look directly, walk on by and just act normal."
"Hermione, whatever this is, it isn't normal," murmured Mrs Granger as they departed once more.
After a while they passed Gringotts and began counting door numbers, keeping on the even side of the cobbled road. Despite the cool weather, plenty of shoppers were stocking up for Easter and tradesman were spreading their wares out onto shop fronts to attract attention. Further along on the other side, a woman, smothered in bunches of lavender, was selling spices and herbs from a tray. They must be getting close. Hermione's free hand rested against her pocket for the reassuring pressure of the Polyjuice vial she'd brought along.
"I think it'll be about six or eight shops past the herb lady," whispered Mrs Granger, "a bit further on from where that old gentleman is... what is he doing?"
Hermione peered across to where her mother was pointing at a white-haired wizard with his back to them. "I think that's Mr Ollivander."
They'd walked on a few more paces before Hermione could be sure. "Yes – looks like he's casting spells to repair and reinforce his door. There've been a few break-ins recently and – oh, I can see number 285 even from here! Look how big the numbers are for such a tiny shop!"
"Seems they want to be noticed. So do we cross over?"
"No, walk by on this side then in two minutes we'll walk back on the other side but don't you look directly – I will. Mum, here's a few Sickles. On the way back continue without me. Buy some rosemary from the herb lady – they're for Luna. It's just an in-joke we're sparring with each other. Then keep going to Gringotts, buy a few Galleons and wait for me there. The goblins' security will keep you safe until I return in a few – let's say no more than ten minutes, okay?"
"And you'll...? Will you be safe?"
"Yes."
But when the moment came for their hands to slip apart, Hermione could not help wondering if either of them would return. She'd learned from bitter experience that tragedy was so often unexpected – especially her mother's death in Hermione's previous life. She watched her depart for a few moments, even waved invisibly when her mother glanced worriedly over her shoulder, then turned to number 285.
The shop was a converted private residence with only a small, curtainless front window, thinly white-washed inside the glass to obscure the interior, and powerfully shielded by magic. The owner had smudged their thumb through the murk to correctly mirror the letters: NEDE, but had the order wrong when viewed from outside. On the front door was a scruffy, rain-washed sign scrawled with:
SELLED OFF
KLOSING DOUN
FOUR APROPITIATION
A chuckle escaped Hermione's lips only to be stifled and replaced by a firming of her mouth and a frown. Had she understood the clues properly? Her life might depend on it. The door was very heavily warded and would need hours of wand work to crack. Looking up, the top floor window was bricked in. Apparating was blocked too – that meant escape by Disapparition would be impossible. Was the building a trap? Only one way to find out...
Although normal access was magically prevented, the building as a whole was not fully warded. There was just enough brickwork between door and window for the small, immaterial girl to squeeze through if she put off using her Adam potion until she was inside. Without further hesitation, she pushed on in.
As expected, the shop was empty and neglected. What surprised Hermione was the lack of a counter nor any indication of stock – garden or otherwise. A cracked wooden chair stood alone by a cold fireplace. In the corner sagged a threadbare carpet half-rolled and threadbare. Hermione remained invisible and insubstantial and floated towards the only other door which lay ajar, exposing worn brick-and-cement steps leading upward.
The upper landing was even gloomier than the shop. Of two doors, only one was open and from it came a soft fluttering scrape that Hermione instantly identified, and she drew her wand. The familiar sound had been so unexpected it unnerved Hermione more than the silent, desolate space in which she had placed herself. There it was again – a page being turned! But if her flesh crawled, she could not detect the sensation. Onward she drifted...
As elsewhere, the room was almost empty, but a heavily-cloaked woman was leaning close to the light from the back window. She was seated on a low stool, face turned away and absorbed in the book on her lap, but the back of her short dark hair seemed familiar. Perhaps because Hermione identified with the innocence of the lady's eager immersion, she decided to be bold:
"Who are you?"
The woman let out a squeal, almost dropped her book, and struggled to her feet, tipping over the stool in the process.
"VERA!" If Hermione had admitted to having any expectations, Vera Gair had definitely not been one of them.
Mrs Gair had pressed her back to the wall in alarm, but seeing nothing, and remembering what it meant to hear a disembodied voice, she said tentatively, "Adam? That is, are you the child who appeared as Adam Brown – we never knew your real name."
Hermione was already discarding her stealth spells and walked forward. "I half-suspected, half-hoped that Barty Crouch might be here."
"We've taken turns," said Mrs Gair, "and they've cast detection spells as well for when none of us can keep watch. But mostly it's been me. The others have their jobs to go to and they... well, they were not convinced you'd understand our peace offering – the advertisement, I mean."
"They left a Muggle alone here in an abandoned house in Diagon Alley?" Hermione suddenly thought of her mother and glanced at her watch; only three minutes had elapsed since they parted yet it seemed far longer.
"Jop said nobody could possibly get in except you – not easily and silently anyway."
Hermione nodded. "But they still left you to the mercy of a powerful witch of unknown affiliation."
"They trust you. We all do now." Vera's face lightened a little and she took a couple of steps forward. "Oh, we were fools, idiots! It was obvious once we'd had time to consider! But we were so disappointed and... hurt. Jop in particular was very broken up about it. For the first time in years you'd raised his hopes and – oh, you just can't imagine how changed he'd become! He needs you. We all need you. Will you consider a truce? Might we talk it over, uuh... what is your real name? I can't keep calling you Adam."
"Mmm... Rosemary – call me Rosemary."
Vera's face brightened even more and she said excitedly, "Oh, we tried everything to find you, Rosemary! Mr Crouch owled Professor Dumbledore – he's the headmaster at Hogwarts School of magic – to ask if they'd anyone about your age named Brown on their records and they've a Lavender starting in a couple of years but she wasn't at all like you and we searched and searched then Barty suggested we advertise but Mike said we'd have to do it covertly so only you would recognise what we meant and he'd collapsed and was in hospital but he's out now but has to take it easy and – oh, I'm so happy we've found you!" She took several gulps of fresh air.
"But Adam's photo? How was that possible?"
"Mike took one of his best memories of you and well, tampered with it a little then put it in his Pensieve and called it up – you know, when the projection of an individual comes up on top of the dish? We made one good photo and, well, meddled with that a little too – the pipe smoke and suchlike – that was my idea!"
"So what happens next?" Hermione examined her watch then began edging away towards the door. "I really have to go soon or Mum'll be mad at me – she's taking me for an ice cream and it'll melt."
"Melting ice cream? With your mum?" Vera's grin expanded and she began to laugh.
"What?" frowned Hermione.
"I kind of imagined you as Adam high up in a cloud fortress with an army of tough mage warrior ninjas eager to jump at your every command as you prepared to save mankind."
"Erm... well, no, just the ice cream and a mum – sorry." The little girl swung self-consciously about the doorframe with a rueful smile on her lips. "So... how will you get home, now?"
"Jop calls in every hour or so and..." Vera picked up her book. "I'll carry on reading for a bit. Look, we'll arrange a meeting. How can we reach you, Rosemary?"
"I'll call you in a few days, Vera. I've got your number." Hermione was clutching the doorframe now as if she'd zoom away should her grip loosen.
"Wow! You know how to work telephones?"
"You'd be surprised about all the things I know, Vera."
Hermione let go. And zoomed away.
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Bug Off
Baked Nebraska almost filled the tabletop and the others were already scooping into their claims on the territory by the time Hermione and her mother returned. Every flavour of ice cream was represented from golden cream sands to mint green prairies, but quarrying had its own rewards and they soon discovered the soft, biscuit cake below, hot and soaking in sweet jams. Rivers of blueberry syrup could be dammed to form more generous spoonfuls, else diverted to sauce other locations.
Luna was constructing an edifice from portions of chocolate wafer. "Have pity, brave Sir Harry," she squeaked in the highest pitch she could manage, "For I am Cinders, a prisoner forgotten in Azkaban!"
Harry looked at her quite seriously over his latest spoonful of currant boulders. "But is it villainy for which you are incarcerated? If so, then I, Captain Potter must decline your request." He swallowed his currants and scraped around for more.
"The wicked queen was jealous that I am the fairest in the land for which she locked me away for a million years!"
"That does seem unreasonable," frowned Harry. "In which case my sworn duty is to dig a tunnel and come rescue you forthwith."
"But the Dementors, Captain! Would you risk all for a strange and mysterious gypsy girl and confront so many dozens of these evil creatures?"
"Dozens, you say? Why Captain Potter spits on mere dozens and would face thousands upon thousands for one so fair as thee, mysterious gypsy girl! See my magic spoon, how it carves a path straight and true under the very noses of–"
"Harry, you're playing with your food again," chided Hestia.
"But Mum, Cinders is incarcerated with robbers and burglars just for being the fairest! What's worse than that?"
A slight frown darkened Hermione's expression. Hadn't they sent Pilf to Azkaban? So how could he have–?
"You really are a dreamer, Hermione," smiled Pandora. "In quite a different way to Luna."
"Mmm...? Oh, uuh..."
"Hermione thinks about problems, but I just think," explained Luna as she munched and crunched Azkaban.
"Ah, I see," said Mrs Lovegood. "And what exactly don't you think about, Luna?"
"Everything," said Luna. "If you think about problems then you've hardly room for solutions as well, have you? For instance..."
Luna leaned over to Hermione as if to whisper but instead snatched something from her shoulder. "Instead of wondering how to remove this bug without frightening you, I just removed it."
"NOOO!" Hermione leapt up as Luna threw the tiny insect into the roadway where it crept between the cobblestones.
Mrs Granger was on her feet too. "Hermione! Whatever's the matter!"
"It was only an aphid that came with your gift," said Luna. She plucked a leaf stem from the bunch of little flowers that lay on a vacant chair and placed it down next to the insect.
"But rosemary repels insects!" cried Hermione. "I'm sure I saw it in my herbology book!"
"Ah, but aphids don't know how to read, do they?" smiled Luna serenely. "Look."
Hermione leaned over to watch. Sure enough, it was an aphid crawling gratefully back onto the sprig. She relaxed. "Sorry everybody, I was just startled."
Hestia said, "No need to be embarrassed, Hermione; timidity isn't a sin. Lots of people are scared of bugs."
Mrs Granger gave Hermione a funny look but kept her mouth shut. Hermione returned with a raised eyebrow back and resolved to add another name to her logbook, that of the animagus, Rita Skeeter.
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And A Little Child Shall Lead Them
To Hermione's embarrassment, all the Cathesis League members rose to their feet when the little elf showed her into Mike Worthing's study – all save the invalid himself, who rolled himself forward with an outstretched hand.
"Excuse the wheelchair but I'm still weak from the treatment at St. Mungo's."
"We're pleased you came, Rosemary," said Jop. "We need you badly."
Vera nodded in agreement. "There's a new Undersecretary who cost us one of our most important contacts at the Ministry, and well..."
Crouch cut in. "First things first. We'd like a clearer idea of exactly who and what you are. Your true age and appearance. And is Rosemary your real name?"
Hermione's face darkened. "I am as you see me: a nine-year-old girl. But I have experience and magical power from a previous life in the future. In that lifetime my parents were savagely tortured to death, as were almost every friend I ever knew." Vera's hand covered her gasp but Hermione continued, "So bitter are the memories that I find myself unable to give you my family name at this time. You can call me Rosemary Brown. Will you have me?"
Barty Crouch sighed. "Truth is, we drew ourselves back together and attempted to carry on alone but it's impossible without your knowledge and abilities. For my part, I apologise. You were right about my son. At times he shows indications he is fighting the Imperious Curse I placed on him, and I fear the worst. As for Mike here..." Crouch's expression turned grim.
Worthing took up where he left off. "Only five to ten years, they've given me – much of that to be spent in a hospital bed."
Hermione said, "St. Mungo's are being conservative. Their potions will sustain you longer than ten years going on what I've seen before. However, I should not wait to reproduce my genetic therapy. I'll need a small team – part Muggle, part Magical, a laboratory – the equipment will not be easy to get. A year might be required. I won't have time once I start at Hogwarts so I'll have to fit it in before then. What Muggle contacts have you that might help?"
"None in the medical profession but I have links with those who can find what we need. I'll set someone on it if you give me details of the essentials you need to get started."
Hermione nodded. "What security do you have within your extensive business?"
"Security? Why, I have a great many trained guards and investigators, of course – some of them ex-Aurors."
"Good. You'll need them."
Hermione pulled out her notepad and sat down at the table; the others joined her. While she scribbled out a list, Hermione enquired about Paul Ingleton.
Jop said, "We've discussed his dismissal with a great many in the know at the Ministry but none of them has heard so much as a whisper nor any one common source for the rumours that led to his resignation. I was wondering if you might be able to uuh... slip into places not available to me and perhaps–"
"Believe me, I've tried," replied Hermione. "Like you, I've not discovered any trace of information about the funds."
"Paul was one of the key figures at the Ministry I was counting on as part of the Cathesis plan – someone that close to the Minister was invaluable, and Umbridge is not to be trusted. Are you sure you've carefully checked her office?"
Hermione nodded. "And her home as well. Not a sign or whisper of anything useful. It's almost as if..."
"What?"
"Perhaps we're going about this the wrong way. Listen, we've found nothing connecting Umbridge with Ingleton – in fact nothing relating to any kind of misconduct whatsoever – then why not take the case to court?"
"You mean have him tried for embezzlement!"
"Yes. Let his opponents provide evidence against him where there is none. His name will be cleared."
Jop sighed. "It's a risk, and even if we succeed his previous position is filled; Fudge won't throw out Umbridge without good reason."
Vera said, "At least his career might progress again; it's something. Jop, Let's ask Paul, see if he'll agree."
Hermione tore off the sheets she'd been writing on and passed them to Mike. "I believe that address in Knockturn Alley may have connections with the Black Arc. Would your people be able to keep it under observation for a few months? Might be nothing but I'd like to be sure."
Mike nodded.
Hermione continued, "Some of those items I've marked do not even exist yet – we'll have to improvise. The ones I've ticked I already have obtained for another, simpler purpose." She looked meaningfully at Crouch.
"Are you referring to Barty – my son?" said Crouch. "I'm almost afraid to leave him at home. Winky keeps insisting he ought to have walks in the garden for exercise and–"
"WHAT! That's not her idea, don't you see? He's been prompting Winky when he has a few moments of lucidity. Don't give in to those suggestions or you'll lose him one day."
"Then how long before you have made your preparations to make him secure?"
"My arrangements are already complete. We can transfer him after this meeting if you want."
"So soon! Yes, then. That will be a great weight off my shoulders."
"He's already been tried and convicted but due process must be followed to see that justice is done with your additional consent and as witness."
"There ought to be three of us in case of disputes," said Crouch. "Mike has already said he wants nothing to do with our temporary rough justice, and anyway, he must not Apparate long distances in his present condition. What about you, Jop?"
Gair shook his head. "I'd rather not be part of your vigilante campaign either, if you don't mind."
"Afraid of getting your hands, dirty?" said Crouch with a trace of sarcasm. "The ones we'll be confining are pure evil. Don't think of it as revenge for past deeds. You'd be preventing a lot of suffering in the future."
Jop appeared to hesitate but then slowly shook his head.
"I'll do it," said Vera, softly.
"Vera!" said Jop.
"We're working to make the world a better place, Jop, and I must play my part."
Crouch looked doubtful. "A Muggle evaluating magical crime and its penalties?"
"That's old thinking, Barty," said Hermione. "Vera has a qualification in sociology which includes an understanding of basic law systems and methods – and remember, Muggle justice is far ahead of its magical equivalent."
"Very well then, Rosemary."
"Which reminds me, the League needs a few simple rules and guidelines writing up and someone to see they're adhered to as well as generally keep control. Would you look into that, Vera?"
Hermione became conscious that everyone was staring at her.
"What?"
Vera said, "But Rosemary... you are our leader."
"Me? I thought I'd... look, I'm just helping set things in motion and offering help as required. You four will be the central driving force with hopefully, Mr Crouch here as the new Minister for Magic one day."
There were a few moments of silence.
"No," said Vera.
"No? What do you mean, No?" said Hermione.
"No," said Jop.
"No," said Mike Worthing as he carefully tucked Hermione's list away in his pocket.
"No." Crouch folded his arms. "We'd already decided before this. You have to lead. We're blind and almost helpless without you. You empower and inform us. You must accept yourself as leader."
Hermione blew out a long breath of surprise then thought for a few more seconds before saying, "Let it so be."
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Totally Barbaric
After another hour of discussions, the meeting broke up. Hermione Apparated home to fetch the hirudo she had previously prepared, informed her mother of developments and that she would be out for the rest of the day, then returned to Worthing's manse. Jop had already departed to contact Paul Ingleton. Vera was in a slightly heated debate with Crouch with Mike looking on but keeping quiet.
"Many prisoners find complete isolation very difficult," Vera was saying. "You said he'll lose his magic so why can't Winky visit him from time to time? She cannot remain bonded to a non-magical."
"Winky? What in Merlin's name for?"
"For company."
Crouch looked puzzled. "A house elf? Company for my son? He regards them merely as useful vermin – much as he does Muggles, incidentally."
"Besides which," cut in Hermione, "he'll find ways to trick or persuade Winky against your orders, Barty. Even though she will no longer be able to regard him as her magical master, Winky may unwittingly help him escape. No elves. Let him have his mother's portrait if you can let her go yourself."
"Why not portraits for all?" said Vera. "Some people get along well without others, but for many it can be too cruel."
"We'll consider it later," said Hermione.
To save Hermione's magical reserves, Barty Crouch Apparated both Vera and Hermione to his home where they found Crouch's son sitting staring vacantly at the basement wall.
"Is he always like this?" fretted Vera.
"It's the only way. I direct him when to eat and sleep. The rest of the time I convince him that the wall is enjoyable to look at."
"Totally barbaric," muttered Hermione. "Where's Winky?"
"House duties. She won't bother us," said Crouch.
Without wasting any further time, Hermione heavily stunned Barty Crouch Junior and had cast a full body bind before he even slumped to the floor.
Vera cried, "Was that really necessary!"
"I'm taking no chances. Apart from his many other crimes, I've seen the results of his work on the parents of a friend of mine. Winky is not vermin – he is."
She pulled the hirudo vial out of her pocket and, with her real wand, drew out the wriggling leech. "You might wish to face away while I do this..."
"Oh, God!" cried Vera. Crouch looked grim. But both watched as Hermione allowed the parasite to creep into the young man's eye, and finally disappear behind it.
Winky served them lunch while they waited, and it was she who sensed the loss first. Her wail of despair alerted them. "Master Barty is gone! Is not master now!" She clutched the sides of her face in confusion.
"He's still down there, Winky, safe and sound," soothed Hermione. "We're taking him somewhere more secure and spacious where he can read and write and get plenty of exercise."
"But no magic?" said Winky, with the tears streaming down her face onto the dessert tray she held.
"Never again," said Hermione. "He's a Muggle now."
Crouch's shoulders sagged and for a moment he looked positively ill. "My son..."
"It occurs to me that in this case we can carry out the rest of the proceedings here; neither of you need to come with me to the prison."
"If I'm to have a say in his sentencing then I'd rather see how he is to be punished," said Vera firmly.
Hermione nodded. "Better let the meal digest for a while then; it's a long Apparition.
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A Near-Death Experience
Hermione was utterly exhausted after Apparating the two Bartys and Vera all the way to Hungary then moving them all immaterially down through the rock. She sagged down to sit with her back to the wall of the receiving cell while Crouch attended to his son.
"How are you feeling?" asked Vera.
"It's nothing but temporary magical exhaustion. A few more minutes and I'll be fine. Perhaps in the future Barty might organise some international Portkeys. Hey, Mr Crouch!"
But Mr Crouch did not answer. He lay on the floor with his son's hands gripped at his throat.
"NOOOO!" wailed Hermione struggling in vain to get up.
Crouch Junior whirled around as if noticing Hermione and Vera for the first time. "What is this?" He held his father's wand and was pointing it in their direction. "Who are you?"
"We're... we came to help you escape!" said Vera, rising to her feet. "We're with the Black Arc. We tricked your father into bringing you here but he attacked my daughter. She's... she's dying." Vera walked forward to offer her hand to Barty.
He frowned suspiciously. "If you're an Arcanist, where's your mask? And your wand? Why are you dressed like a stinking Muggle?" His eyes flicked over her shoulder to where Hermione was gesturing towards her beaded bag.
"Mummy... you puthshed them in your bag thso Mr Crouch wouldn't thsuspect, remember?"
Barty was now aiming at Hermione, but he kept his distance. "Open it. Slowly."
She did so.
"Show me..."
With an effort, Hermione summoned Alecto's mask to the top of her bag and weakly held it up.
Barty's shoulder visibly relaxed and he turned back to his father who was feebly trying to lift his head. "Well, father, seems you've been outwitted. Any last words before I finish you once and for all? How about 'Sorry, son?' or–"
He never finished for the leg-locker curse from Hermione's wand hit him squarely in the back and he tripped over, cursing and swearing.
Hermione was sitting up more squarely now. "Drag Mr Crouch well away from his son, Vera, and keep clear of him yourself. He's no threat at a distance."
Barty rolled over to glare back at his attacker. "You think not, you sow turd with your baby spell?" His father's wand thrust out in Hermione's direction. "Avada Kedavra!"
Hermione sighed melodramatically. "Muggles can't cast the killing curse, Barty, nor any other spell – you should know that."
For a few moments it seemed that Barty had not comprehended what the little girl had said. Then it registered. Only now did he notice the awful emptiness inside. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"
"Help me stand up, Vera," Hermione said quietly, once she was sure that Mr Crouch was out of danger.
"Are you sure?"
"I'll be fine in a minute or so."
Leaning against Mrs Gair, Hermione walked slowly towards Barty who was lying whimpering on the floor. "You are a total cockroach's arse, Barty Crouch, and long may you rot in hell. ... Accio wand."
Mr Crouch's wand flew from Barty's grasp into Hermione's and she returned it to its rightful owner. After casting a healing spell to help him recover, she said, "Why'd you release him from your curse? Why not leave him bound and helpless?"
"I wanted to say a final goodbye." croaked Mr Crouch, rubbing his throat ruefully. "I thought he was helpless. He has no magic so..."
Hermione shook her head. "Don't underestimate Muggles, Mr Crouch, it may be your undoing."
She looked up at Vera. "Barty has been previously convicted for many crimes of violence, torture, and murder – while we ourselves have just witnessed him trying to kill his own father and, incidentally, myself. Are we agreed on our sentence?"
Mrs Gair nodded. "Life."
"Life," said Mr Crouch.
"Very well, let it so be."
Within a few minutes, Barty was hoisted into the air ready for the pronouncement.
"Barty Crouch Junior," began Hermione.
"What is this?" scoffed Barty. "Has my father relegated all his self-respect to a smartmouthed baby?"
"You have been found guilty of many crimes including attempted murder," continued Hermione, ignoring Barty's sneers. "We hereby sentence you to lose your magic and serve a term no less than life in Azkaban Prison. Alternately, as an act of compassion, you may choose to serve out your days in a more humane confinement or else elect a merciful death. Do you wish to decide now?"
"I'll decide how long your mum and dad squeal before they beg me to kill you, little girl."
"Let the record show that the prisoner did not select either of the alternatives."
In a fury, Hermione flew straight at Barty and carried him onward through the dense rock until they touched down in one of the small stone cells close to the now-ravenous Dementor. Here she dropped her burden who began screaming before he hit the slabbed floor and as icy terror sought his worse memories on which to feast.
"I'll be back in one month then yearly thereafter to give you another chance to change your mind."
Whether he'd heard her above the howling of the beast and his own pitiful cries, Hermione neither knew nor cared, for she was gone before he began to sob and beg.
.
—oOo—
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Author's Notes
Last chapter, a guest reviewer was puzzled that Hermione bothers with the kids instead of doing something more practical. The simple answer is that she loves them and fully understands the dangers they will face in the future so she wishes to prepare them. Despite her powers and knowledge, Hermione tries to go by the book and won't punish anyone for crimes they might not commit in this lifetime. She's not an assassin, nor would removing most dark wizards save the world from Muggle folly. It will take years for her to lay the groundwork for an improved society. Besides, that is merely the background to this story. Most of the adventures will involve the kids once they get to Hogwarts.
Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
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