.

So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Luna, and the Weasleys at a much younger age and even though Voldemort died early, she has formed the Cathesis League to fight corruption, elevate justice, and ultimately seek cooperation between Muggles and Magical societies. Hermione has now met Remus but was upset to hear Luna and Ginny will be going to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts. Now read on...

.

Chapter 30

Tracking and Trapping


.

Confusing Words

Determined to be as friendly as possible to Luna and Ginny before they departed England – perhaps forever – Hermione was soon visiting again to help Pandora with the finalising of the Tutomees. The weather had remained cool but at least it was dry. The young watering can, however, she noted, remained sulking by the water butt, obviously impatient for action.

"Rose has been chafing the string with her sprinkler," sighed Luna, pointing at the frayed cord. "I hope Mummy finishes her books soon so she can fix the enchantments and Rose can go free again."

"You've given your watering can a name?" laughed Hermione. "And what makes you think it's a girl!"

Luna paused and looked back in astonishment as she was leading Hermione indoors. "Oh, Hermione! Can't you see the difference? Look at her neck. And boys aren't so... round. She's pretty, don't you think?"

"But a watering can is masculine in the French language!"

Luna shook her head. "They must have made a mistake. All they think about is the long spout. Watering cans are obviously all girls, you can tell – look how she's pouting so sweetly and – tu parle français!"

"Mais certainment!"

Luna squee'd her delight as they entered the Lovegood kitchen.

Ginny and the others weren't there but Luna's mother looked up from her seat at the table. "Now Luna, English here please, I like to know what you're up to." She winked at Hermione.

"You don't know French yourself, Mrs Lovegood?" said Hermione. "But how did you make the Tutomee?"

An eyebrow tilted askance. "Why, that's just an enchantment, Hermione! You don't need to know about blood and skin to heal a scratch, do you?"

Luna giggled and explained. "We used some of the magic from a portrait of Madame Maxime that Mummy painted for her. Didn't you wond–wond–wonder about the Tutomee's voice?"

"What did you say, Luna?" said Pandora, a puzzled frown had appeared on her face. "Are you playing with words again? Please don't."

"No, I meant to say, wond–wond–. Sorry, Mummy, I was being silly. I meant to say, wond–wond–." Now it was Luna's turn to look puzzled.

Hermione could not stop the suspicion arising that the painting commissioned by Madame Maxime had helped pay the fees to Beauxbatons. Like the Weasleys, the Lovegoods were not a wealthy family. "We? You helped with the Tutomees, Luna?"

"No, only some of the little drawings. Mummy's been showing me how to animate them properly."

"Oh, I see."

"Which reminds me," said Mrs Lovegood as she rose from the table. I'm supposed to be finishing off my drawing of a Thestral for next week's Quibbler." She ascended the spiral stair and Hermione could faintly hear her in conversation with Mr Lovegood.

At this first opportunity, Hermione took Luna aside, but before she could speak, Luna said rather wistfully, "I wish I could see it."

It took a few moments before Hermione realised she was speaking about the Thestral picture. "Believe me, Luna, you don't."

Luna sighed. "I suppose you're right. Are they really beautiful?"

Hermione nodded. "We flew from Hogwarts to London, you and I – Harry and Ginny too and – oh, I was terrified all the way. Exhilarated, but terrified. I couldn't see them yet you understand, so it was like flying through the air on my own. But I could feel it beneath me so I closed my eyes most of the time, and hung on tight."

"But you did see them eventually?"

Hermione nodded and her face went dark.

"Hermione... how did I die?"

Hermione stiffened as the memory came back to her, and she said quite sternly, "Luna, don't you EVER ask me that again. Especially if other people are around."

Luna's lip quivered at her friend's rebuke, but Hermione hugged her tight as if she never wanted to let her go.

"I won't, I promise," said Luna eventually. "And I don't think I can if others are around."

Hermione pulled back to look at Luna's expression. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you notice?" she whispered. "I almost said 'didn't you recognise Madame Maxime's voice while Mummy was here? Your spell stopped me from speaking about your other life and made me say something different. That's happened a few times. I didn't know it worked like that so I always tried to fight it. I won't ever again. We should warn the others."

Hermione nodded.

"Now, what did you want to speak to me about?" smiled Luna.

"Hmm...? Me?"

"Yes, when Mummy went upstairs, I thought you were going to ask me something."

"Oh, yes, those little illustrations, do you think you could draw some special ones for me? Only it's secret, top secret."

Luna grinned. "I like secrets."

.

Difficult to Swallow

"By all that is Godric, NO!" Remus stared at the faint wisps that lay on the palm of Adam's hand. "Frankly, you disgust me, Brown. I will not do it."

"It won't be an actual child though will it? Do you want to break up Greyback's wolf pack and save real children from future contamination or not?"

Lupin's face was pale even in the ruddy glow of the Leaky Cauldron's lanterns. "But those..." He seemed transfixed by the strands that Adam was holding out – "they're from Hermione's hairbrush?"

Adam nodded. "See how thick each hair is, and sort of waffled – that's why her hair is so bushy. Poor thing – I bet she has to brush it endlessly."

"What would I know about girls' hair!" growled Lupin.

"Not much luck with the ladies, eh, Remus?" grinned Adam.

"My... condition... is not exactly ideal for raising a family!"

"Don't say that!" said Adam, half-rising out of his chair in annoyance. He sat down again and softened his tone. "Listen, Remus. I have extensive knowledge of people with your particular problem and I also understand the female way of thinking way beyond what you might imagine. Somewhere out there, a young lady is waiting for a man exactly like you."

"Well she can carry on waiting for someone better. It wouldn't be right to saddle anyone else with my troubles."

"Now you listen very carefully to me, Remus. You – are – wrong! If the situation were reversed and you were a normal man in love with a female werewolf, you'd want her to understand you'd be desolate without her, right?"

Remus nodded reluctantly.

"We have no right to make such decisions for others. You're a good man, Remus. I know another like you who resisted the love of a woman and broke her heart for too long before eventually accepting her. Would you want to do that? Especially now you can prevent your transformation completely?"

"You think you know it all, don't you?" The expression on Remus's face darkened. "And what of any children born of such a matrimony?"

Adam smiled. "They eventually married. Their child was a beautiful baby boy. They called him Teddy..."

A far off, wistful look shone in the eyes of the big man, and for a while, Remus's face softened too. "Nice name."

"Look," continued Adam. "Just promise me this. When you meet the girl of your dreams, you won't rebuff her simply because of mere practical difficulties like your monthly periods – women know all about such things – or even trivia like age, height, skin colour. If you're both truly in love then love transcends all. She's there for you, Remus, I know she is. Promise me you'll do the right thing."

Remus's eyes shone and he nodded. "I'll give it a lot more thought."

"And don't you hurt her! Don't you dare!" growled Adam.

Remus smiled, and the two sat quietly for another minute, both in deep thought. Finally, they remembered why they were there, and the plan to use Hermione as bait. Adam lifted up the hair strands again to force a decision.

"There must be a better way!" Remus looked around to see if anyone might overhear them, but it was early evening and apart from a couple at the bar, the pub had not yet started to fill.

"Like what? Storm the werewolf compound? Impossible! We have to lure him into the open, and you did say the beast captures magical youngsters to raise as werewolves!"

The expression on Lupin's face was grim. "Count me out. Greyback is savage and brutal. I couldn't bear to watch if it went wrong. Hermione is such a sweet, pretty kid and Greyback won't spare any pity."

Adam's lips softened into an affectionate smile. "Oh, Remus..." For a moment, the big man's expression looked quite girlish, but Lupin didn't seem to notice; his mind was caught up in the remembered terror of his own childhood experience. Adam almost reached out to pat his hand...

The weakness passed and he slipped the hairs back into the packet in which he'd brought them, then held up the bottle of Polyjuice he'd brought along. "It won't be the real Hermione though, will it?"

Remus did not answer.

"Very well. I'll go alone if you're so squeamish." Adam rose as if to leave, studying his watch carefully as he did so.

"Now see here, I'm no coward!"

"Then come with me. I need you to watch out for any others. Greyback is unlikely to be alone."

"It's not full moon till the end of the week. There'll be wizard lookouts tonight but they'll not hunt as an instinctive pack. It's not them I'm concerned about. You have to understand that even in his human form, Greyback has a taste for little girls, and when he bites he often relinquishes control of his... other urges. He's been known to violate and devour in the same act. It's no secret that most of his recruits only survive because they are boys."

"And that's where your control comes in." Adam held up a small, grey-blue capsule.

"What's that?"

Seeing Lupin's interest, Adam sat down again. "It contains a special variant of my Wolfsbane potion with a secret ingredient and enchantment. I have access to a Muggle research laboratory where I can produce capsules quite easily. This version will force you to transform – but your human mind will still be in control – well, mostly anyway. This pill simply makes it more convenient in an emergency – though it may take some swallowing."

Eyes and mouth open in astonishment, Remus croaked, "Without a full moon?"

Adam nodded. "When Greyback closes in, I'll run shrieking from him as if in panic. Although untransformed, he won't be able to resist chasing me because he always indulges his predatory reflexes. While he does, I want you to swallow this, then attack him from behind. If needed, I'll help you take him down covertly so the others see only your success. A rather fitting end to the monster, I thought – the biter bit literally."

Remus gasped. "The law of the pack! Even as humans they'll be compelled to accept me as leader."

Adam nodded. "After that, spend some time with them. Get them to accept you – by dominance and your greater experience if necessary. Evaluate who might yet be saved. Entice those few with offers of free monthly Wolfsbane pellets – not like this one but the standard potion, I mean – plus moral and possibly financial support if they can't find work."

"Normal dose?"

"Of course. Their reliance on the supply will also help keep them from straying back to their old ways. If we can get them to live relatively normal lives like yourself and relieve the monthly suffering too, then they won't need to behave like beasts."

"And the rest? The ones who willingly enjoy the life of a werewolf?"

"Do as you like. My guess is the pack will fall apart and be greatly weakened without a strong leader once you split them up and destroy the compound from within, then abandon them."

Adam handed Remus a small mokeskin pouch full of the capsules, looked at his watch once more, then ordered fresh drinks while Remus thought it over. "You have to realise that Greyback is the one in serious danger, not me, and certainly not Hermione Granger."

.

Little Red Riding Hood

With a final check of his watch, Adam led the way out the backdoor of the Leaky Cauldron, as if they were going to Diagon Alley. Instead, they Disapparated from the yard to the start of the track that Remus had previously described.

Lupin paused dubiously. The old, well-worn Muggle path was now overgrown – no more than an animal trail for badgers and stray deer. Adam, too, began to have second thoughts. "South is more likely, don't you think?"

Remus frowned into the darkness. "Didn't you say you had a backup plan if we needed to reconsider?"

"Ah, yes..." Adam pulled out a card from his pocket, and strained to read it – his eyes had not yet adjusted and there was barely enough illumination from the half-crescent moon to even see his hand. He crouched down and cast a glimmer charm concealed by his robes. "It says, There'll be dissuasion charms. Stick to the plan even if it no longer appeals."

They both felt rather sheepish as realisation set in and they cautiously pushed through onto the old trail. After a few minutes, Remus, whose eyes adapted far faster than Adam's, extended his legs into a relaxed stride, but Adam held him back every couple of minutes while he used his glimmer to check the time again.

"What's the hold up?" growled Remus.

"I don't want to be seen before I take my Polyjuice and change my clothes, but I don't want to take it too early either."

"Oh, right. Well, we've miles to go so you'd better drink enough for a few hours."

Adam hesitated.

"Are you taking it now or what?" said Lupin.

Adam began to walk again but then stopped abruptly and turned away, clearly agitated. He crouched down as if to check his watch as usual but pulled out something else – a small bottle – which he held up to what little moonlight filtered down before pressing it to his lips. His hood prevented Lupin noticing the cork was not removed, but the werewolf's sharp eyes could see Adam's huge form diminishing beneath a tent of overlarge robes. The clothing was quickly shrunk with a spell and a lantern conjured to reveal the outer travel cloak had turned a vivid red.

"What are you doing! They'll see you half a mile away!"

He gasped as the little girl turned her face to him.

"How'd I look?" squeaked Hermione, now with her own voice.

Remus groaned. "Too conspicuous and... I wish you'd used someone I don't know."

"We want them to see us, remember? And your werewolf instincts will be focused on your natural enemy, not on me, right?"

"You're sure I'll have full control?"

"Well..."

Another groan of despair. "This is crazy."

"Come on, Unca' Wemus," laughed Hermione, "let's go see Gwanny."

Hermione grabbed his arm and they set off again along the path much more easily now they could see by the wavering pool of illumination cast before them.

.

The Baited Trap

Hermione and Remus barely spoke for the next half an hour. Occasionally, Hermione would tease Remus with, "Do you weally think I'm pwitty, Unca' Wemus?" To which Lupin would growl, "Adam, you're still as ugly as Kreacher's backside – you'll never be a really convincing Hermione."

An owl hooted unseen in the velvety darkness. There was even less to perceive beyond the lantern glare – only blackness – and both of them considered extinguishing the lamp.

"It was always a foolish idea," said Lupin, trying to fix his gaze away from the brightness.

"Shush, I'm trying to think. ... Too much light ... dark and bright ... so all miss us, use a visus. Of course!"

"Adam, will you please stop trying to sound like Hermione as well – it's bad enough you look... slightly like her!" complained Lupin.

But Hermione was waving her wand in decreasing spirals about them both. "Visus Superior!"

At once the light cast by the lantern diminished, yet the darkness beyond it appeared brighter and they could now see quite well between the trees. Twin dots of blinking yellow indicated where the owl was roosting, much farther than they'd thought.

"But does this mean they'll miss us?" said Lupin, reciting the childish verse in his head.

"No, it's not really dimmed our lamp at all. The spell is normally used to see better so you can hide in the dark from enemies but it works just as well in any light – and we need them to notice our lantern. We'll make better time too now we don't need to be so cautious about what is just out of sight."

But their improved sight had revealed the trail extended a formidable distance ahead, twisting and winding between the spruce trees, and they began to appreciate how much longer the journey might take.

"Are you sure you took enough Polyjuice?" murmured Lupin.

"Yes, no prob–"

They were hit from behind without warning, despite Hermione's precaution of improving their vision. No curses, no hexes, no magic at all but the wind was knocked out of Lupin's lungs and only the instinctive agility he'd gained from his condition saved the man from a nasty fall. He rolled with his assailant, heard his grunt, felt the big arms loosen. That was enough, an extra roll and he was free for the one moment he needed to stuff a modified Wolfsbane capsule into his mouth; but he did not swallow yet. He was half surrounded on both flanks and his attacker was rising to his feet as quickly as Lupin himself.

A girlish shriek of horror alerted Remus to Adam's direction, and he spun around. Behind the fleeing youngster, two men were twisted grotesquely upon the ground. How had he escaped their clutches with only the weak, childish form of a girl, and his wand not yet out? Yet he was on the run – almost as planned – so Lupin bit into the pellet. As he did so, he was knocked down again, almost spitting out the juice onto the frozen soil as the ground whacked against his face for a second time.

"She's mine!" snarled a gloating voice from overhead. "First let's see who this is..." and Lupin was rolled over on to his back. A blaze of wandlight fell onto his face and Greyback laughed in recognition. "Cut him! Nail him! I'll be back!" He took off after Hermione in a relaxed lope the child could not hope to exceed. If only he'd waited a few more seconds...

Behind him, a fury seized Lupin, accelerating his transformation. Even while rising, he shattered the legs of the nearest charger, the shock and loss of gore silencing the enemy forever as he was tossed aside like a split-open blood bag. The fist gripping the knife of another attacker was diverted down into the ground; its owner's throat bitten through in the same motion. Three others he saw scattering in astonishment to reassess what they had assumed to be their helpless captive. A wand was raised but with a mighty creak, its slash only tore down a shielding conifer; Lupin was gone.

Hermione screamed again when she heard feet pounding towards her from behind.

"Delicious girl ... what a treat ... I do enjoy the softness of the skin," came the horribly familiar, rasping voice. "You can't escape me, girly!" Greyback easily ran around her, and she swerved to escape his clutches, stumbling over a great clump of woody roots. Down she went. If the lusty male had not been so eager, he'd have noticed she'd done so quite silently. As he fell upon her, extreme pain pierced all his flesh and he was held aloft as one impaled by a bed of magical spikes to await his fate.

Bounding through the forest came the raging beast that had been Lupin. Its slathering jaws took Greyback by the back of the neck and shook him like a rat, dropping his limp, bloody shape only to howl victory at the moon. Racing towards him, the lookouts from the pack came to a halt. Even in human form, they had to respond to that cry, for clearly, their old leader was broken, left for dead. They whimpered and shrank down, praying for acceptance by this newly-dominant alpha.

While Lupin asserted himself, driving them back, assessing that their submission was sufficiently grovelling, Greyback stirred in the shadows. His enhanced physique was well used to recovering from dreadful injuries. Through a haze he sensed he was deposed, but knew himself too weak to respond yet. As the pack moved off to begin their ancient rituals of interaction, he began to crawl in the opposite direction. At least he still had the girl. She would be comfort, entertainment, and sustenance until he regained his strength ready for a counterattack.

There she lay, tangled in the roots and at his mercy. Dishevelled, legs bare, how exquisite the dark spaces... He sniffed deeply of the night air to catch her scent before moving closer. Nothing. No smell at all.

"Hello, Fenrir." She rolled over and flowed effortlessly towards him, wand pointed directly between his eyes. He knew no more. He knew nothing of his being Apparated across Europe. Nor of his magic being removed while he lay entombed for weeks by a draught of Living Death, there to await interrogation for his many atrocities.

.

The Bitch, the Bimbo, and the Bloodhound

On that same dark evening – within the same hour that Greyback was captured – Rita Skeeter stood, hidden under a concealment charm, watching the house opposite, and wishing she could stamp her feet to keep warm. Below a garish streetlight, the exhaust from a taxi was visibly pumping out clouds of carbon monoxide in a steady stream – though the journalist knew nothing of such Muggle toxins.

"But, Rodney, who is coming to visit you that's so important we have to take a break?" said the voluptuous young lady in the doorway of the house.

"I've told you, darling, it's just business. I've got to earn a crust, and your room at Claridge's costs a pretty penny."

"But Rodders..."

"Run along now, and I'll join you later tonight for some... magic tricks."

The girl giggled and planted a soppy wet kiss on Rodney's lips, then climbed into the cab. Rita Skeeter waited a few minutes after it had departed and 'Rodders' had gone indoors before she crossed the street. Information was money, but secretly-held information was worth even more. She knocked.

"Ms Skeeter, please come in," said Rodney Dunn, almost before he'd opened the door for her. He wiped his mouth with a sudden handkerchief. "This is all a bit of a rush."

"Rush? I sent you Xeno Lovegood's hat a week ago!"

"Which reminds me, I'd be grateful if you didn't send owls to this address; Mrs Williams nearly had a stroke."

"Well, I won't if you don't send your postman to my flat. Deal? Where is your housekeeper, anyway?"

"I uuh... gave her the afternoon and evening off." He flushed slightly and turned away.

Skeeter looked at the lipstick-smeared teacup amongst the used plates and dishes on the table. "That long, huh? So, how far did you get?"

"I don't know what you mean!" said Dunn, his colour rising even more.

"With investigating Xeno Lovegood's hair, I mean!"

"Ah, right... well, it's all very technical..."

"Just give me the short version: did he use the Muggle pen or not?"

"No. Definitely not."

Skeeter sniffed her disappointment and sagged down at the table, staring at the teacup and hoping Dunn wasn't going to offer her a drink. She opened her crocodile-skin handbag and took out a slender cigarette holder from which a lit cigarette instantly protruded once she'd clamped it between her teeth. After a long drag, Rita blew out a long string of blue smoke over the messy tabletop, as if to fumigate it.

"However..." said Dunn, mysteriously.

She looked up through the haze she'd created.

"We – that is, my contacts – did more research... a lot more actually, given that we only had a sample from that one suspect and..." He knew Skeeter would have no idea of how little labour was involved.

"And...?"

"Well, I had to pay them extra..."

Skeeter sighed, but business was business. "What do you want, Dunn? Surely you've not used up all the love potion from last year on that bimbo?"

Dunn looked startled for a moment, then straightened himself up rather stiffly. "I'll have you know, Melissa is a good friend of mine."

"Yes, I'm sure you're very close. What then?"

"Mmm... I wanted to give her something special; it'll be her birthday soon."

"Yes, a sixteenth birthday present is always tricky..."

Dunn's eyes flared, and he blurted what sounded like "You bag!"

Skeeter smirked. She was much too thick-skinned to care about physical insults.

"Your bag," he said again, but in a more controlled, insistent manner.

"What?"

"I've never seen anything so fine – or so expensive-looking." A sly look crossed his face. "But did you obtain an import permit?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You need documents for crocodile skin these days, didn't you know? I could help you there – if I had access to such a bag, that is."

"It's not bloody crocodile, you dolt!" Rita winced as if she'd just revealed something she'd rather not have. The scheming witch reached for the teapot and, with a shaking hand, began to pour cold tea into the smeared cup.

Dunn sensed an advantage – a rare occurrence in Rita's company. "What is it then?"

"Nothing. It's... you were right, it's crocodile, erm... Orinoco actually."

"If that's Orinoco then I'm as befuddled as a baboon," said Dunn with a thoughtful stare.

Skeeter muttered through teeth viciously gritted around the cigarette holder, "That can be arranged..."

There was a sudden flash of light and Dunn blinked confusedly. "What were we saying?"

"You were giving me new information in exchange for more love potion," said Rita. "I'll send it by return owl."

"Ah yes, thanks. The exclusive part of the DNA is half Xeno's so it must have come from a sibling or an offspring."

Rita gaped in surprise and the cigarette holder fell into the cold tea she'd poured. She began to stir with it absently. "Of course...!"

She rose out of her chair quite abruptly, clutching her precious handbag with long scarlet talons, and stalked off to the door. "I have much work to do..."

.

Long Division

It was spring before Harry and Hermione had worked out a ruse to let her 'accidentally' cross paths briefly with Neville.

Madam Gawtley had just given Harry and Neville an arithmetic lesson and was handing out homework when the drawing room door opened and Hermione's head poked in. "Oh, sorry, I just popped over to borrow this morning's Prophet, and Aunt Hestia said it might be up here...? Hi, Harry! Hi, Neville!"

"Hermione!" cried Harry, feigning great surprise.

"Hullo," murmured Neville, politely, flushing more than a little.

Madam Gawtley was reaching for her travel cloak. "Sorry, I've not seen it. Harry, can you help Hermione find the newspaper? I've got to go. Wish we could see more of you, Hermione, but there's not much more I can teach you at this level."

"Bye, Nan!" waved Harry. Hermione noticed the old teacher didn't get her little boy hug nowadays either.

"Goodbye, Madam Gawtley," said Neville.

After she'd gone out the door, Harry pretended to search the room. Hermione said, "I can't stop long. The stupid Prophet owl never turned up this morning – not that I believe most of what it says."

Neville nodded. "Yes, Dad says it's all rubbish what Rita wrote anyway. I mean, she couldn't know if she wasn't there. I'd ignore it if I were you."

A chill shuddered through Hermione, remembering how Rita could be almost anywhere in her beetle form without being noticed. She looked wildly around the room: on the tables, chairs and curtains, on either of her friend's head. Frantically she began roughing away at her own hair with clawed fingers.

"Over here!" Harry cried triumphantly, holding up the newspaper from behind an armchair.

He handed it to Hermione who began to read:

.

HAS LIGHT PROFESSOR GONE DARK? OR SIMPLY DIM?
An informed investigation by
Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent

Hogwarts Muggle Studies Professor, Quirinus Quirrell, will be taking a year-long leave of absence (with the Headmaster's blessing) commencing this summer when he searches for new information about the notorious Black Arc coven. While he claims to only be gaining first-hand experience in the field 'to further his career', Many of us cannot help wondering what particular career he had in mind.

I spoke to Percy Weasley, an intelligent, hardworking, third year student at the school, who offered this insight: "Everyone knows he's after the Defence Against the Dark Arts post." But is he? Has the Headmaster, in fact, already rejected Quirrell's application for that job? Is it not strange that Dumbledore was 'not available to comment' when I politely requested an interview? There was once another wizard who disappeared from the world to gain dark knowledge, and we do know what happened to him: he returned as the infamous You-know-who.

Hermione well remembered Quirrell himself coming back with a dark secret. Would history repeat itself in a modified form? Or would Quirrell's character remain uncontaminated by the experience? She continued reading:

Nor is Quirrell the only suspicious character teaching vulnerable children. Is there a conspiracy? Is a not-so-vulnerable youngster plotting something far more terrible than even He-who-could-not-be-named? Well, I am prepared to name names, and readers, you should also prepare yourself for a terrible shock. (to be continued next month...)

Hermione sank into the nearest armchair and stared at the evil leer on Quirrell's photograph as he turned furtively away.

"Dad says they take loads of pictures and use the worst," said Neville. "Likely, he's politely grinning at one of the photographer's jokes and looking away in confusion."

Or is he? thought Hermione. But that was the least of her worries. Has Rita obtained information about MY plans? Neville's words came back to her: ...she couldn't know if she wasn't there. With a shrug, Hermione dismissed her fears. Neville was right. There was no way Rita could have known for sure it was Luna and herself at Paul Ingleton's hearing, and suspicions based on the Quibbler article proved nothing. No, Skeeter must have sneaked into Hogwarts in her beetle form to learn of Quirrell's plans and also overheard kids – perhaps Fred and George – planning to prank someone. That was her 'conspiracy'!

"But how am I supposed to calculate that?" Neville was saying to Harry, in a slightly-raised voice.

Is he reaching out to me? thought Hermione.

Harry scratched his head "Uuh... well, I think I know but it's hard to explain."

"Oh, are you doing arithmetic? What's the problem?" said Hermione.

"Long division of 12186 by 14," moaned Neville. "I can see here look – that 121 is bigger than 14 so I have to divide it and carry the remainder but how?"

"Ah... right, well, you've learnt multiplication?"

"Yes," chorused Neville and Harry.

"So, first guesstimate how many 14s are in 121 then test it by multiplying it as a separate calculation. Adjust your guess if you're wrong."

Neville face twisted up a little as he tried to puzzle it out.

Hermione said, "Well ten times 14 is 140 so that's too big for a start so try 9."

While the boys worked on their homework, Hermione re-read what Skeeter had said about Professor Quirrell. In her former life he'd gone in search of Voldemort and come back corrupted and possessed – what if the Black Arc took advantage of his inexperience this time? But I could do the same! No one would be very surprised if Quirrell never returned from his dangerous sabbatical. Was this not a perfect opportunity to spirit him away to Devil's Deep? With a grimace, Hermione relinquished the temptation – the man deserved the benefit of the doubt until such time as there were definite indications of wrong-doing.

"Got it!" cried Neville, but Harry was chewing the end of his quill.

"What's up, Harry?" said Hermione.

"What if you're put in Ravenclaw?" said Harry.

Hermione smiled. "I won't! We've talked about this before. The Sorting Hat takes into account your own choice."

"Yes, but Dad says it only weighs that against things like ambition and smartness – and you know more than anybody ever did!"

"I promise you I'll be in Gryffindor with you. I give you my word." But a frown had crossed Hermione's face which she quickly hid. Harry had a point. They'd be starting at Hogwarts next year. She'd better have a plan ready – even if it meant vanishing the hat into non-being...

.

—oOo—

.


Author's Notes

In case you don't know or don't remember, only the owner can retrieve anything from a mokeskin pouch and it's not even visible to anyone else.

Suzululu4moe's review in the last chapter raised an important question about the correct scent being created by Polyjuice. Well, I don't think there is any canon so it's a matter of conjecture. My take on it is that the potion does replicate everything but the mind. I think it's important to remember it's magic and not science fiction. I was thinking about this the other day with animagi. What happens to clothes and things? In the movie, Sirius as the dog is seen running into a waiting room at the station and we see his silhouette through the frosted glass pulling on his robes or cloak. That suggests the dog carries them in a backpack which is daft or Sirius wandlessly conjures them. No, I think he'd transform fully clothed and carrying whatever he had when he previously changed, wand and all. We see McGonagall transform from cat to herself fully clothed in class in the first movie. That's how I see it too – magic not sci-fi. Same with Polyjuice imo, you get an exact duplicate even to vocal chords but the mind is the same so the way the person speaks might be different. So, Ron and Harry had to adjust their manner of speaking when they emulated Crabbe and Goyle in CoS. Hermione has a deep voice when she's Adam but still has to remember to talk like a big man (or like she thinks a big man would talk which can be hilarious!)

Slight error in my story. I think I previously referred to Mrs Williams as Dunn's landlady but in this chapter as housekeeper. I needed her to be 'sent away'. I might go back and alter the earlier chapter to 'housekeeper'. I guess one can imagine her as both – a landlady (owner of the house) who also provides housekeeping services? Anyway, that's what happens when one is not working far enough ahead in a story and can change earlier conflicts before publication.

Talking about writing ahead, I've gained a little so I'm slightly over a chapter in front again. And the end of this Book 0 is in sight! Looking at my copious notes, I've got through almost everything that is to happen but there's not a lot left in the year or so remaining before Hogwarts so that part of the story will move faster. I was also wondering where to start each book and decided to start in the preceding summer the same as the books. So that this Book 0 will end about June 1991. Not long to go!

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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