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So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Luna, and the Weasleys 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. Reunited with the Cathesis League, Hermione has also transferred Barty Crouch Junior to Devil's Deep. Now read on...

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Chapter 22

Keeping In Touch


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The Secret Society

By Easter, Harry had mastered all of the simple spells permitted by his trainer wand. Ron, Luna, and even Ginny were not far behind, leading Hermione to wonder if the start age for Hogwarts was not rather too conservative. Harry had grasped the first basics not only of formal duelling but real fight deployment, movement, strategies, and defence. Not that he had any idea yet of how to cast those dangerous spells, let alone how to deal with his own fear when they were being cast back at him, but he was now able to help the others, and progress improved.

Hermione made sure the work was light and enjoyable such that before long there was spare time in their sessions which she wondered how to fill because of the limitations on casting magic.

"Honestly! The Underage Trace should have been called the Infantile Trace! I mean, no casting of spells just drags every child down to the lowest Crabbe-and-Goyle denominator."

"Dad sometimes show me things with his wand," said Harry, "but Mum pulls a face." He demonstrated by twisting his eyes and mouth into various severe grotesqueries – much to Luna's amusement.

"The thing is," continued Hermione in a raised voice, struggling to be serious against the backdrop of hilarity, "the more you learn now the easy way, the simpler you will find Hogwarts and have more time to relax and enjoy being there. It will remove the pressure of tests and exams – and homework will be a doddle instead of a tedious chore."

"Sounds good to me," said Ron, lounging back with his feet up on Mrs Granger's best couch in the front room. "But it's not all about spells is it? I mean, we can all fly pretty good now – you excepted, Hermione – so we won't have that to learn. And Charlie's learning astronomy. I suppose we could borrow his charts and he might even let us use his Omniscope. It's not as good as a big telescope but–"

"What did you say?" asked Hermione, her train of thought still on tests and exams.

"Omniscope – it's a magical tube thingy that shows you the stars and–"

"No, just before that..."

"He said it's not all about spells," came Ginny's quiet voice before she could stop herself.

But nobody noticed her pink cheeks. Ron was looking up at the ceiling, imagining a giant telescope thrusting up through the roof into the sky. Harry was watching various expressions crossing Hermione's face. He gave Luna a nudge but she'd already seen.

"That's brilliant, Ron," cried Hermione. "We can't study Charms but we might consider simple Herbology or... well, History might be a bit... I mean, I don't want to bore you or it would put you off bothering at all." She hissed softly through her protruding teeth. "Maybe that's why they don't teach magic until we're eleven. But there are a few simple plants we could look at. Then there's... mmm... Runes and Arithmancy are too advanced. Muggle Studies and Divination are not needed till later... Potions is a possibility – Most potions don't require incantations with wands."

She thought for a while. Harry watched her face again. Luna watched Harry watching Hermione.

"We could enlarge my upstairs room again!" she said at last. "Divide it up and have space for cauldrons – just the most simple ideas we could explore to get you started. I've got tons of ingredients already."

"Ginny and Luna will do extra brilliant out of this!" said Ron. "They'll be prefects by about second year at this rate!"

Hermione's eyes flickered as she realised what he meant. "That's right! How'd you get so smart, Ron?"

"What, you think I was stupid or something?"

"What do you mean, Ron?" said Harry.

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "No, but... oh, Ron, I'm sorry, I oughtn't to have said that."

Ron swung his legs back down off the sofa and sat up. "Steady on, I only said..."

"I know but..."

He stared at her.

Hermione said, "I only meant – oh, I don't know what I meant. I say stupid things."

"Ron, what did you mean about Ginny and Luna?" Harry repeated. He turned to Ginny when Ron continued to stare at Hermione.

Ginny said, "Because we have another year before we start than you."

It was Harry's turn to stare. "But... but I want us to be all together! Aren't we all going to be together, Hermione?"

"What...? Uuh... no, Luna and Ginny are a year younger, aren't they? Anyway, Luna's probably going to–"

"Beauxbatons is not definite," said Luna.

"Ah... good. So... it wasn't really, you know... erm... a serious possibility?"

"Oh, it's a very important matter," said Luna, quite firmly.

"But this is horrible," wailed Harry, rising to his feet and scuffing at the carpet. "And what about Ginny? We can't leave Ginny out no matter what."

Ginny gnawed at her lower lip and focused on Harry.

"We'll have to keep in touch – every day," said Hermione, who hadn't given the matter any thought previously.

"But owls take forever and they're not the same as seeing your friends," whined Harry, crouching down by her chair with a pleading look in his eyes. "Hermione, do something."

"Uumm... Floo is too risky at both ends. ... We might try wireless if it can be got to work on the perimeters. ... I could experiment with the Protean Charm on say, a... diary." She glanced at Ginny but Ginny – who Hermione was used to seeing flinch at the mention of the word 'diary' – showed only innocent interest. "It wouldn't seem unusual to have diaries with locks so nobody else could pry – and no need to erase the messages afterwards so it would be a true log. ... Pity veefones won't be invented until – AH!"

"What, Hermione!" cried Harry, still crouched by his friend.

She looked thoughtfully into his face. "Harry, this is a quest for you to undertake. It will require skill and subtlety but I think you're ready. Do you accept?"

"YES, YES!"

"Well then, your father has some two-way mirrors – so has Neville's. You need to–"

"Who's Neville?" said Ron.

"Another friend you'll be meeting one day. Harry, don't rush this because we have lots of time yet. Find out what you can about them. Two-way mirrors are very rare and expensive; you can't simply ask about them or your dad'll wonder how you've heard of such things. You'll have to get him talking about what he did during the last war – not all in one session but just to show ongoing interest. When one of the conversations moves in the right direction you might ask about communications. Let him bring up the subject of two-way mirrors. One of them was your first father's so Sirius might even give it to you as part of your inheritance."

Harry was wide-eyed and excited now. "And what about Nev?"

"That might be more difficult. First you have to bring him round to your way of thinking – remind him he's honour-bound to keep our secrets. If he can find out anything from his Mum and Dad, it might help. Meanwhile, I'll search the shops down Knockturn Alley; two-way mirrors are almost unknown but I might get lucky and find one. We need at least three altogether: one for Ginny, one for Luna, and one for us at Hogwarts."

"It'll be like a secret society!" cried Luna.

"Luna, we are a secret society," said Harry. "The best one there's ever been!"

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Being Tested

It is a curious thing that anyone might pity a worthless, evil character, but with the Dementor moaning outside his cell, Hermione found Barty Crouch Junior in a pitiful state on her return. He blubbered. He wept. He kissed her feet. He pulled them from under her and fell upon the little girl so heavily she broke a rib.

While the Dementor howled and Hermione screamed in pain, Barty gibbered a delirious message, "Brat, yes brat! Now it's me! Me! Apparate me to freedom or I tear out your throat." His strangling grip was already crushing her windpipe, and an icy blackness began to fog Hermione's thinking...

One moment later, Barty's grip closed upon itself; filthy straw and stone were all he could scrape upon once more. With a wail to match the Dementor, he leapt up, searching for his victim, but she was gone, and the skeletal creature beyond the walls welcomed his fresh despair...

Immateriality has no physical sensations, not even pain. From the relative safety of the nearest cavern, Hermione braced herself for the inevitable, for she could not sustain the spell for long nor Apparate to a healer in this condition. Self-healing an insubstantial body would be too difficult in her current condition.

There was no one to hear her subsequent squeals of pain and laboured breathing but by rolling onto her right side she eased her distress to a hard-but-bearable ache beside her heart, and sore, badly-restricted breathing. There she lay, frightened, not daring to move, and wondering what to do.

And then she began to cry. Hermione wanted her mum so badly it hurt even more inside – especially her throat. Adult reason struggled with childlike instincts for control, and for a time, the infant was there utterly alone and sick with fear. In time – a few minutes that seemed like several long hard lessons – Hermione came to herself, regained control, and forced herself to try to think clearly once more.

Her magic was intact but without speech she was limited to nonverbals nor could she reach her wand pocket. Her hand worked slowly and oh, so carefully down to find her little beaded bag – gone! She must have dropped it when attacked. Anguish clutched at her innards then for she knew she'd have to go back – and right now before Barty found it!

No, I can't! I just can't! I won't!

Yet necessity acted against her own will, and so she did involuntarily cast the spell. Immaterial once more, Hermione knew she was on borrowed time as she flew back the way she'd come.

Barty was crouched over her open bag, leering at her. In his hand was Alecto's knife, clearly he'd known Hermione would have to return injured, and launched himself instantly in her direction. But his rush greatly underestimated her wandless powers. She hit him hard with a convulsing jinx in the stomach and he doubled over into a tight ball of cramping pains – and the knife was recovered by her disarming charm. A full body-binding spell followed before she even considered materialising but she also had to deal with her own terrifying visions caused by the Dementor. With long practice of focusing inwards in such adverse situations, she braced herself... then gently cast a Patronus to ward off the creature's effects.

Floating over to the bag, she summoned out a quick-aid pack then wafted down onto her right side where she could also keep an eye on Barty. His eyes were screwed up with suffering but she sensed he was squinting back at her.

Knowing what was to come, it was much harder this time to let go the incorporeality which alone masked physical sensation. The pain seemed worse at first, yet eased more quickly, with only slight adjustments to her posture – and the healing items were close to her hand. But she was unable to swallow even a sip of Skele-Gro and had to content herself with pressing a dittany poultice to her throat.

There the two of them lay in silence, watching each other, predator and prey – but which was which?

Barty recovered his powers of speech first. "Who are you?" he hissed between gritted teeth. "How could a tiny girl best me?" He was quiet for a while, thinking. Some of his thoughts were voiced to himself in a harsh whisper. "How did she Disapparate without me hanging on to her?" and "How'd she master such things at her age?" and "Why an Arc knife and mask?" Finally, he addressed her directly, "Are you really that young? Or are you not what you seem?"

Enduring the intense discomfort and waiting for the dittany to complete its work, Hermione lay silent.

Barty's gasped and his eyes widened as an idea struck him. "You're him, aren't you! The True?"

Hermione could make no reply.

"Yes, yes, it all makes sense! But don't you see? We're on the same side? Those few of us in the Helm dispersed when I tried to join with the Arc. I'd heard you were the One to come!"

He lapsed into silence again, watching her.

"This is to try me, isn't it?" he finally said. "Master, you need only ask and I will serve! I swear on my magic! On my... magic..." His eyes dulled as he remembered – then lightened again as his voice became more manic. "You've not really taken my magic have you! You've Confunded me!" He laughed and coughed and spluttered with excitement. "I will not fail you! Test me, I will not bend. Trial me, I shall not yield. I promise unswerving devotion, Master!"

"Have you made your decision, Barty?" Hermione said coldly as she massaged her throat. "Remain here or be moved to a more bearable prison cell?"

He blinked, confused by the question for a moment. "Yes, yes, whatever is your will!"

"No – you must decide."

"Ah, I see your plan... then... what would be your preference?"

Hermione sighed and lifted up the Skele-Gro once more. "Despite everything, I'd much rather nobody remain in this kind of hell."

"Then that is my will too, Lord!"

Hermione was too tired to roll her eyes. She swallowed the potion, grimacing at the taste, then prepared for a long wait...

For most of an hour they lay there while the fracture knitted together. Barty continued to rant and rave but Hermione was too emotionally exhausted to care. He'd deluded himself that she was his new master, and if that meant he'd cooperate then that was fine with her. When she was strong enough to stand, she took him to his new cell, presented him with his mother's portrait for company, then left him there as subservient as any house elf in the curious belief he was being put to some grand test of eligibility – for what, Hermione did not know.

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Without You

Over a month passed during which Harry learned quite a lot about both of his fathers' and both of his mothers' actions and escapades during the last war but nothing about how they communicated – with mirrors or otherwise. Harry wondered if he was acting too casual.

"You're boring him, Sirius," said Hestia shortly after dinner one evening.

"No, ancient times are interesting," said Harry quickly. Sirius raised an amused eyebrow towards Hestia at that remark but Harry didn't seem to notice. "I like to learn because there are still bad people about and I want to be prepared when I grow up."

"Quite right," said Sirius. "Death Eaters we used to call them, and they hated Muggles and Muggle-borns."

"Like Hermione?"

"Well, yes, like Hermione."

Hestia thanked Kreacher and began to pour the tea herself as the family moved to the comfy seats around the hearth. The month of May was not cold enough to need a lit fire but Sirius had conjured up some heat-less flames for atmosphere.

"She's not a bad person you know," said Harry. "Not like them."

"Of course not," said his mother. "You mean Hermione?"

"Yes. You don't think she's bad, do you Dad?"

Sirius fumbled the cup that was being passed to him. "Hermione? She's a fine girl. If we thought different then we wouldn't let you see her, would we, son? Why?"

Hestia poured out a glass of milk. "What makes you ask, Harry? Has she said something? Here, take this."

"Thanks, Mum." There was a pause while young Harry took several long gulps of milk followed by an even longer sigh of satisfaction. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, but I was wondering about when we go to Hogwarts."

"Ah, I see," said Hestia. "You're worried she won't always... be with you?"

Harry stared at his mother, and the glass of milk in his hand trembled. "Could something happen then?"

"Now, Harry," said Sirius, "I want you to listen very carefully. Things change. Nothing stays the same. You need to be ready for new situations, be with different people..."

"But I don't want different people! I want Hermione!"

"I know, I know but..."

"Is it because she's smart? Something might happen?"

Hestia said, "Exactly. That's why we've... well, if Hermione can't watch out for you then..."

Harry put down his milk. Coming back to his mind was the conversation he'd overheard through the bedroom window last summer. It seemed a hazy daydream now, almost a year later, and he struggled to remember what had been said. Something about her being killed by a troll in the first year at Hogwarts. With a trembling lip he asked, "What will happen, Mum?"

"She'll probably be in Ravenclaw – you have to accept that if so then you won't see her in your common room or sit with her at mealtimes..."

Harry stared aghast.

"And she's so far ahead in many subjects they might..."

"What, Mum?"

"They might move her up a year. That means you won't see her in class either."

"NOOOO!" Harry jumped up onto his feet and raced away across the room. "THEN I WON'T SEE HER AT ALL!" Wailing, Harry ran up to his bedroom and slammed the door.

"Well that went well," said Sirius, elbowing himself upright and leaning his weight forward.

Hestia sighed and said. "No, give him a few minutes then I'll go up and have a few words. It's nearly his bedtime anyway. No child should fall asleep heartbroken and alone."

Sirius sank back into his chair and sipped his tea. "Hest, do you think we're mollycoddling him a bit too much?"

"Sirius, he's only eight years old!"

"Nine in a couple of months." Sirius frowned. "What's he doing up there? Crying into his pillow?"

Hestia stared at her husband for a few moments, then crossed over, took his tea back onto the tray on the coffee table, then squeezed onto his lap. "Sirius, I'm almost twenty-eight but I'd cry if you and I were apart for too long. He thinks a lot of Hermione, you know."

"I know he does..." He gave his wife a squeeze around the waist and pulled her closer. "Whatever would I do without you?"

Hestia cocked one eyebrow. "Cry into your pillow?"

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Business

Cathesis League affairs kept Hermione busy for the next few weeks so even by June neither she nor Harry had gotten their hands on a single mirror. And delaying his attempts even further, Sirius and Hestia had asked Mrs Granger if Harry could stay over for a few days while they were 'away on business'.

"What about Neville?" asked Hermione, moving across to the work bench in the garden shed. Sunlight from the little window glittered on the few Galleons that lay there in the plant pot in which they kept leftovers for the next crucible firing.

"He said he'd asked his dad how he'd keep his mum safe when they were in different places, and his dad showed him his mirror."

"Really? And...?"

"That's it. He wouldn't even let him hold it."

Hermione gave out a long soft groan. "And what's your mum and dad up to this week?"

"Dunno. Just said they'd got some family business to attend to."

"Family? So why didn't they take you as well?"

"They wanted me somewhere safe while they were busy."

"Busy? With family? Safe? What family? Surely they can't mean...?"

"I don't know, Hermione. I think they meant business about family." He tried to wink but could only manage to slowly close and open both lids together.

Hermione's eyes spread as big and shiny as the Galleons in the flowerpot. What if Sirius had a lead on other members of the Black family – perhaps a connection with the Black Arc? They had both been members of the Order of the Phoenix. Had the Order reformed? Was that who they were working for this week?

She felt a nudge at her elbow. "Sun's in your eyes, Hermione," said Harry, a look of concern on his face.

"Mmm... so there's no chance they'll suddenly come for you this week?"

"Mum said they won't even be able to send an owl for a few days but I'm not to worry."

"Not to worry!" Hermione knew what meant from long experience but she couldn't tell Harry. "Then they'll be fine. Just family nonsense. Business papers. Grownup stuff. You'd be bored to tears."

Nodding but looking unconvinced, Harry said, "Why are you asking?"

Hermione took a deep breath, and snatched two of the Galleons before she changed her mind. "Remember once I said we'd have secret, dangerous missions to perform one day?"

Harry's expression took on an eager look as Hermione pulled out her adult wand and began a soft chant. He knew enough to keep quiet. The coins were quivering, trembling between Hermione's fingers. For a moment they seemed to fuse into one but by the time Harry had rubbed his eyes in disbelief, they were two normal Galleons again.

"Take my wand, Harry."

"What? Your grownup wand?" He did so.

"I'm going to teach you a spell that won't work with your trainer. This Galleon is yours. It's special; don't spend it or give it away. Press the tip of my wand against it and think hard of a short message."

Harry winced his eyes shut and tried really hard.

"Well?"

"What's supposed to happen? Nothing's happened."

"What was your message?"

"Erm... pickled onions," said Harry sheepishly.

"Pickled onions? How can anyone think hard about pickled onions?"

"Well, it's the first thing I thought of. Anyway, I like pickled onions," he added defensively.

"Well, try again but think of something significant or important you really mean."

Harry nodded and pressed the wand extra hard.

"Ow! It's getting hot."

"Good. That means it worked."

"So...?" Harry turned the coin over a couple of times.

"Don't look at the face and back – look at the rim."

"Ah! I put my words on the Galleon!" But then Harry frowned. "What's it for?"

"Now look at this other coin – my coin."

Harry stared in wonder at the exact same message on the other coin. "Merlin's shaggy eyebrows!"

"Eh? Is that what you put?" Hermione took her coin back. "Ravenclaw is rubbish? Why'd you put that?"

"Well they are. Everyone knows they're snooty swots and nobody's friend. I'd hate to be in that house. Anyone would. Wouldn't you?"

Hermione stared at him dumbfounded. "Don't let Luna ever hear you talk that way, Harry; she might well be in Ravenclaw, and proud of it."

"Then she's stupid!" cried Harry, throwing down his Galleon so it bounced off the bench onto the floor.

"Harry! What's got into you? What's this about Ravenclaw?"

"What if it were you, Hermione? In dumb stupid Ravenclaw! Then what would you do all on your own without any real friends?"

Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face. "It couldn't be me could it, because I'd refuse to go in Ravenclaw. I'd argue with the Sorting Hat until it begged for mercy. No way am I going in Ravenclaw, I'd say. I'm going in Gryffindor with Harry or die!"

"Really?" Harry's face brightened.

"Really. Besides, it's already sorted both you and me into Gryffindor once, so there's no reason for it to change."

Harry laughed.

"Right, now that's settled, we're going to Hogwarts today" – Harry squealed the name loudly but Hermione raised her voice – "and might have to stay a day or two. There's an important job for you to do, but it's secret, remember?"

Harry nodded his head vigorously.

"First I've got to get some snacks and things made up and ask Mum if it's alright to take you on a top secret mission. She'll hum and hah but she trusts me so it should be alright. If not, I'll have to think what she wants and say that's what we're after – like a magic shield to protect Dad."

Hermione winked and Harry laughed.

"But you must stay sharp, Harry. Be on your toes. Constant vigilance! Never overlook anything."

"I won't, Hermione, I promise!"

"Come along then. Oh, and don't forget your Galleon."

Harry grinned and ran sheepishly back for it.

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Last chapter, Lily, a guest reviewer – you wondered about Rita Skeeter being on Hermione's shoulder (in her beetle form.) Well, Lily, that wasn't Rita, it really was just an aphid off the flowers, but it served to remind Hermione about the poisonous bitch.

Another guest reviewer, Skye – you asked why the Cathesis League took back Hermione so swiftly and accepted that she was reincarnated? The answer is, Skye, that is wasn't that swift. Time flies when you're enjoying a story! The Cathesis League broke up in November, 1987. The next year, Hermione met the Lovegoods and went on the Snorkack expedition in the summer, right? In November, 1988 was the Hyde Park fight, then Devil's Deep, then meeting the Weasleys at Christmas. It wasn't until Spring of 1989 – over a year after the split up, that Hermione rejoined them. Actually they'd all second thoughts soon after the break up but they had a year to stew over it and realise they needed her. The Garden of Eden advert had been published many times before Hermione saw it. As for them accepting her rebirth, she had already shown them the future memories in the Pensieve. Mike Worthing and the others already had a good idea there was more to it than 'memories of foresight experiences'. They simply needed clarification but really, they'd already figured out that she'd lived the future experiences she'd told them about. Remember these are magical folk who are used to time travel and supernatural events and they'd had lots of time to consider the events.

I've made huge progress this last week and I'm now over two chapters ahead beyond this one! I might even go back to weekly postings... :)

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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