.

So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Neville, Luna, and the Weasleys while young and, though Voldemort died early, she launched the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now starting at Hogwarts, she formed CREST from the most trusted members of the old D.A. Meanwhile, a ruthless half-hag has been assigned to bodyguard Harry in his first year, and Neville has finally made best friends – with a girl in a painting. Now read on...

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Chapter 37

Losing It


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Contacting Rosie

The little scroll addressed to 'Rosemary Brown' practically burned a hole in Hermione's pocket through dinner, so anxious was she to read it. But Ron appeared to have forgotten its delivery in the owlery as he began a delicious roast chicken meal at the Gryffindor table, and Hermione was not going to remind him by any furtive reading. No, she waited patiently until they returned to their common room, hoping for an opportunity. Harry went up to his dorm to talk to his parents through his two-way mirror; he was missing them. Neville wandered out of the room again – rather too nonchalantly, Hermione thought as she watched him go. Ron was already beginning a game of chess with Dean. Out of his eyeline, Hermione swiftly went up to her own dorm to read the letter. It was ultra-brief:

Who named us? – Cath

Only the Cathesis League knew her as Rosemary, Hermione knew. Evidently someone had thought it likely she was attending Hogwarts but was taking care not to compromise her if the message fell into the wrong hands. Although an agreement had been reached that she would contact them monthly, this note suggested something too urgent to wait. Quickly, she scribbled a reply:

Vera gave the name Cathesis to the League. My owl has informed yours so it can come direct in future but please address to 'Rosie' which I can pass off as from a casual friend. Hope all is well?

Not that Hermione had any real hope that all was well, as she dashed off to the owlery. The League would not have contacted her unless there was a problem.

She was right of course, and the message that arrived at breakfast the next morning confirmed her fears:

Rosie! We have knowledge that Steff Daggard was recruited to guard Harry Black (who you probably know has started at Hogwarts this year.) You might recall the hag's name was mentioned at one of our meetings. Barty plays it down but I know her to be deadly! Long ago she swore she'd be the one to arrest (or kill more likely) You-know-who himself. Ever since the dark wizard died while trying to curse Harry (Potter as he was then,) she's held a bitter grudge against the boy for robbing her of the glory, and she's almost certainly waiting an opportunity to get her revenge without being caught! Keep an eye on the evil creature but take great care not to cross her. - Jop.

"Who's that from, Hermione?" smiled Harry as he sprinkled sugar on his cornflakes.

Next June... thought Hermione, She'll strike next June once her year is up and she knows she's safe from the oath!

"Hermione?"

"Hmm...? Oh, it's from an old school friend."

"By owl?"

"Erm... yes, Mum sends them on."

"Without Farrimond?"

"Uuh... when she goes into London, she's sends them from the owl post in Diagon Alley."

"How's she get in?" crunched Harry, reaching for another spoonful.

"Oh, uh... they know her in the Leaky. Tom knows her and lets her through."

"Bub howb do–" Harry froze, spoon in mouth after one glare from Hermione. He swallowed, then whispered, "Ah... secrets. You should have said, erm... Rosie." He grinned and munched at the same time which wasn't pretty.

"How much did you read?"

"Nothing – only the name on the outside of the scroll." He gave a low chuckle. "It's alright you know. I don't mind you having secrets. I know you do other stuff."

"You do?"

"Of course. That's why you came back isn't it? To save the world?"

Hermione stared at her friend for a few moments as he scooped up more cornflakes. "No, Harry. The only reason I travelled back through time was for you – just for you. That was sort of what made it all happen."

His arm dropped and the spoon clunked onto the cereal dish, sploshing milk. He saw something in her expression and in her eyes he hadn't seen before. "Wow! We must have been really, really best friends."

"We were, Harry, yes, we were." She reached out and wiped milk off his chin with her finger before rolling up the message and stuffing it away in her pocket.

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Aculus's Window

As October approached, the weather grew cooler. Fires were lit, and Aculus complained he'd not been able to descend the chimney into Harry's dormitory until almost midnight. Furthermore, as the nights became colder, Aculus had seen Steff Daggard prowling about the chamber and the raven wasn't convinced it was merely to keep warm.

Hermione turned from gazing out the owlery window and frowned. "But Harry wasn't approached too closely? She's not cast a subtle Imperious or tracking spell on him?"

"Not in the time I was there."

"Harry has been rather quiet these last few days; I'd better check him over. The hag is obsessive about his safety and she might have influenced him magically. Look, I've an idea. I'll vanish one of the upper window panes – those little diamond-shaped ones – and protect it from the cold wind. You can squeeze through one of those, can't you?" – Aculus inclined his head in confirmation – "Then you can get in as soon as Harry goes to bed and not have to wait for the fire to burn out."

"Excellent!"

"And Aculus, be extra vigilant. Daggard might sound thick but she's very experienced and, I think, pitiless."

"Don't worry, Mistress, if she makes any attempt to harm Harry then I shall divert her, rouse everyone, and summon you."

"Thanks, but take extra care of yourself too. Even I can't Apparate instantly to you within Hogwarts."

"Me?" With some indignation but not even a whisper of sound at all, the raven wafted his wings. "Only you can sense my presence when I'm concealed."

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Neville and Etherea

Ron wiped the grease from his breakfast plate with the last piece of fried bread, popped it in his mouth, and said, "You alright, Harry? You sometimes look a bit gloomy these days."

"Me?" Harry glanced up from staring at his tea, then he swiftly drank the remnants and pushed himself back to show he was finished. "Sure... I just... erm... it's just not being able to join you in Defence practice yet. I'll be okay."

Hermione was half-listening, half-watching the activity around the hall. Draco had a different chalice of dark jet today, she noted idly. Zabini appeared disinterested in what Malfoy was saying. Crabbe had dropped half his sausage and it rolled off the table onto the floor. He dived after it, rubbed it on his sleeve, and continued to eat it. A flash of light caught her eye. Draco was drinking from his silver goblet now – no, it was the same one, half dark glass on one side of the bowl. How pretentious.

Ron lowered his voice. "It's that bloody hag, isn't it, Harry? I'll have another word with Fred and George."

Hermione, who had been observing Zabini move away from Malfoy to sit alone, shook her head. "I don't see what the twins can do. If Daggard is hindered in any way from protecting Harry then she dies. Cold-blooded murder is a dreadful act and scarcely ever justified except perhaps to save another life." For a few moments she struggled with old memories that continued to haunt her, then she shrugged them off.

As they rose to leave, she turned to Harry, "When we get out in a quiet corridor, I'll run my wand over you again just to be sure."

"I'm fine," protested Harry.

"Can't be too careful. Daggard might have used a subduing hex on you to prevent you becoming too excited or reckless."

"I told you, there's nothing wrong! You only imagine it that way because Neville's more high-spirited now he's at Hogwarts."

And he was right. By comparison, Neville was transformed. Even after being placed at the front of the Potions class, he seemed unconcerned about Daphne's proximity only a few desks away. Snape tried all he could to unnerve the boy but the most he could find to complain about was Neville whistling a tune as he went out the door to his next class. Finally, Snape, sick of the sight of this new, cheerful Neville, banished him to sit back with Ron and the others.

But Neville had a secret, and he wasn't about to share it with anyone. Finally, he'd found the best friend he'd always wished for, one with whom he could completely relax, someone who placed no real demands upon him, and who would listen for hours without criticism.

"Fain that I ne'er lose thy good company, Sir Neville."

"You shall not, Princess," smiled Neville.

He now sat so close to the painting's magic that its oils expanded softly within the picture frame to zoom him inwards so that he might more closely see the princess within her chamber. As she walked, her long golden locks were drawn inside the window and streamed gracefully along the floor behind her. Indeed, it seemed to Neville as if she turned about more often than was needed, glancing to see if he was watching.

Each time he visited – which was at least daily, and more when he could – there was a growing sense of two turrets in different worlds almost touching. True, he could not quite reach across, but the fine stitching in her blue velvet gown, and every delicate pale eyelash, were as clear to him as if they shared one room.

"It would please me if you addressed your princess as Etherea, my good knight – except upon stately occasions before my court when it would not be appropriate."

"Etherea... thank you, yes, it's a lovely name."

Perhaps they talked of nothing of consequence, but to Neville, they held sparkling discourse on the universe and their special place in it – together it always seemed to them. The first week he had been certain Etherea had once lived as a mere commoner, or a lady-in-waiting from some bygone age who liked to play princess and wear a pretend crown. The second week he was less concerned either way about her possible lack of regal status. By the third he didn't care at all and saw her shabby, gilt-ribboned hat in the childlike way it was meant to be seen: as a truly royal crown. To him she was as vivid and caring as anyone he'd known – and in that sense, had once been real, and therefore still was. There is no deceit in make-believe that is shared.

Etherea talked to him of her father's various palaces, the many banquets she had attended and the grand estates the king hunted in season. In turn, she was entranced by his descriptions of Hogwarts castle, details of his lessons, and the fascination they both had with magic.

Neither of them considered the future.

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A Friend In Need

It was mid-October when Aculus went missing. Anxiety clutched at Hermione's heart, compelling her to spend most of a weekend in the owlery, listening to her own senses and searching the skies. With Neville mostly absent elsewhere in the castle, and Harry unable to avoid Daggard, Ron was despatched to bring her food and drink.

"Who's message are you waiting for? Must be important," he said as he delivered a bag overly-packed with supplies from the kitchen.

"Family," said Hermione. "It's... a bit personal."

"But don't they use Farrimond? He was here earlier."

"I sent him out again."

To his credit, Ron sat with Hermione for an uneventful hour. Perhaps Harry had persuaded him to stay with her or possibly Ron had tired of Harry's dark mood into which he was withdrawing more and more. She felt odd to be alone with her ex-husband for so long, though he was significantly different than formerly.

"There he is!" cried Ron, and sure enough, Farrimond winged in through a window and displayed such agitation that Ron was perplexed.

"What's wrong with him? Reckon he lost his message? Hungry?"

Ron offered the bird a scrap of bacon rind from Hermione's discarded sandwich. The owl seized it, nipping Ron's finger in the process, but instead of devouring it, immediately flew out once more, leaving both Ron and Hermione to be astonished together for different reasons.

"Enough!" Hermione snarled under her breath after realising what must have happened. Nobody attacks my familiar and gets away with it!

Ron expressed the view that the owl had mated in the Forbidden Forest and wished to feed its young. Hermione however, scrabbled in the kitchen basket to gather together the best scraps she could then added a few drops of healing potion to them. The whole she wrapped in a loosely-tied handkerchief which she'd dowsed liberally with dittany from a bottle in her beaded bag.

"What's that for! Will he carry that? Why are you crying?" cried Ron. He paused to think. "Don't you know where your family is? You can't follow him, you know. Owls won't let you – not even your own owl. Not for anything. It's their magic. They'll never lead anyone to–"

"I know, Ron! Look, give this to Farrimond when he returns."

"Me? Where are you going then?"

"Tell Farrimond to apply the hankie to Aculus if he can!"

"What! Who's Aculus? And how can–?"

"Promise me, Ron! Apply the hankie." Hermione went to the inner wall of the owlery and braced herself.

"Okay, okay, but where you going!"

"I'm going to Stupefy the hag's arse, Ron. That's where I'm going."

Ron blinked as Hermione melted into the stones of Hogwarts and disappeared. "Wish she wouldn't keep doing that," he muttered to the nearest owl.

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Hermione Thrashes Daggard

Steff Daggard had seen it all. A hardened Auror, she'd met the worst kind of dark witchery – and bested most of them. But she'd never dealt with anyone like Hermione Granger. Yes, her instincts were aroused by the sudden quietness of the passageway down which she was following Harry to the library. And yes, her wand came out even though there was no visible or audible danger. But that weapon flew from her grasp before she could find a target, and the blows that rained upon her body brought her quickly to a low crouch, groaning and clutching at her stomach.

Hearing the sound of an angry beating, Harry spun around in alarm. Steff Daggard appeared to be performing a form of low dance: one arm flailing wildly as if fighting off a horde of wasps, a knee on the floor, face contorted in severe pain and yes, fear. Harry began to cautiously approach then stopped. He knew who it must be: Hermione was pummelling the hag with battering hexes. What was his part to play? How might he protect Hermione from any suspicion? And himself!

"What's going on?" he called, feigning ignorance. "Is that you, Peeves!"

All that saved Daggard from hospitalisation was Hermione's knowledge the semi-hag would die if she were not able to offer Harry protection. The girl relented, flew to Harry, and whispered in his ear what to say.

Harry called out, "I think it's a warning. Something stalks this old castle. You must have done something really bad to annoy it."

"Wotcha feggin' on about!" gasped Daggard, trying to stand.

"Peeves isn't the only dark spirit here; there's one called Attila or Achilles or..." Harry frowned and scratched his head just how Hermione was coaching him.

Daggard was now leaning heavily against a pillar, taking deep breaths. "Aculus? Ain' it Aculus or summink?"

"Yeah, maybe something like that."

Daggard pulled a parchment from her pocket. "Nuffin' 'ere now," she said, sounding relieved. "Gimme 'arf a mo', will yer?"

The half-hag limped around clutching her side, searching for her wand which she eventually found where it had rolled against a wall. "I'll kill the fegger if it tries owt like that agin!"

"You can't kill what's already dead. If you try then it'll probably finish you off." There were no more whispers in his ear; Harry was improvising now. "Yeah, it's an evil little thing that spies on people. I wouldn't mess with a dark spirit if it were me."

Harry resumed his walk to the library with Steff Daggard hobbling after him, a scowl on her already hideous face.

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Missing Possessions

"Why didn't you tell me that Daggard took your map, Harry?" Hermione said quietly when he discovered her already in the library, apparently scanning the first row. "Don't tell me you gave it to her willingly?"

Harry took a book from the nearest shelf and pretended to browse, glancing sideways now and again to make sure the hag was still sitting at one of the library's many reading tables. Daggard was wiping her face which, together with her hands, were about the only part of her body not covered in bruises. There was no indication of her painful injuries other than the sweat on her brow and a sort of hunched up look about her.

"She stole it from my chest one night," Harry said mournfully.

"This is why you've been so miserable this past week, isn't it?"

"Will Aculus be alright?" he said.

Hermione sighed. "Aculus must be very badly injured, probably semi-conscious or he'd have summoned me. I've no way of finding him unless he recovers enough to call me to him."

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Harry turned several pages rapidly to smother his sniffles. "It was my stupid fault. I should've kept my mouth shut and been more careful. I've only used the map once or twice, I think. It must have been that time we were wondering where Neville had got to. When I saw on the map that Neville was already back in the common room, I sort of became excited and rushed downstairs. I think that's when Daggard suspected I'd got something special."

"I'll get it back for you, Harry, I promise. But if I just take it then she'll only suspect that you–"

"–No! don't!" Harry smothered his cry and raised the book close to his face, shaking his head as if in disbelief at something he'd read. "What! This book doesn't make sense!"

Daggard didn't even look up. She was in too much discomfort to be her normal vigilant self, especially in an environment as safe and public as the Hogwarts Library.

"Harry, you must practise that special locking charm I taught everyone until you get it right. It'll block all unlocking spells so only your chest key will work. Maybe I should do it for you. Daggard will never be able to take anything else from..." Her eyes widened. "She's not taken anything else already has she?"

Harry shook his head, rather sullenly, Hermione thought. "Harry...?"

"Just that stupid oath and..."

"And what, Harry?"

"My invisibility cloak."

Hermione groaned softly. "I thought there was more to it than just the map. You've been really low. Cheer up. I'll get them back."

"Don't, Hermione," whispered Harry.

"Why ever not?"

"Just don't." And Harry took his book and went to sit by his bodyguard.

Knowing she'd been dismissed, Hermione returned to Ron in the owlery, but she couldn't help wondering what else Harry was hiding, and why would Daggard steal the runic oath? Destroying the parchment on which it was written wouldn't wipe out the obligation itself, the half-hag must know that.

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No Trace

Hermione examined Farrimond carefully for clues: wet feathers might indicate Aculus was down by the lake, a beech twig would suggest the Forest.

"You won't find anything," said Ron. "Wizards have tried before. It's owl magic. They don't even fly direct so you can't follow them. Some say that once out of sight they travel through mystic sky tunnels, but nobody really knows how they travel so far and so fast yet without being followed. You just can't track anyone by sending them an owl."

Hermione nodded. "I know really, but I was kind of hoping there'd be something."

"So... Aculus is your familiar. That's cool. A raven is really cool." Ron kicked some owl droppings across the floor. "And you thrashed the hag good?"

"I'm not proud of it, Ron. I was just so upset. I can't forgive her for attacking a poor defenceless creature."

"Well, in fairness, she wouldn't know that. You said Aculus was invisible? Just a name on the map? It might have been anyone or anything. The hag must have panicked and cursed out blindly."

Ron's comments didn't make Hermione feel any better. She growled at him. "Yes, and it might have been a student. Daggard might have killed a child or..." She broke off, head drooping.

Ron tried to comfort her. "Aculus must be alive. You'd know if... if the bond was broken. Charlie told me a bit about familiars."

Hermione nodded, but there were fresh tears glistening in her eyes. Aculus had died for her once before; she couldn't bear it if he did so again.

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Is a Friend In Deed

Sunday was almost over before Hermione felt the pull of her familiar's invocation. There was no way to Apparate directly within Hogwarts boundaries, but the direction of the pull was unmistakable: the Forbidden Forest. She headed out into the darkness, pausing only occasionally to get her bearings.

The raven was not far within the Forest's edge, collapsed within the roots of an oak. Brave Farrimond was guarding him against the creatures of the night, keeping watch uneasily on the forest floor and ready to divert anything sinister away from the helpless bird.

A broken wing was quickly healed by Hermione's spell, then she could gently lift him high into the knotty fork of two stout branches; here she knew both raven and owl would instinctively feel safer. The young witch spent a long time magically scrutinising the raven for every type of injury.

"I am grateful, Mistress," said Aculus weakly.

"Hush... you need rest. You too, Farrimond – when did you last sleep? I'll stay till daylight; you should be mostly healed by then but do not attempt to fly for another day."

"I failed you, Mistress. I do not know how."

"No, you did not fail. Harry has a map that reveals everyone present in Hogwarts. Daggard stole that map and saw your name on it. She still has it. If you choose to continue keeping watch in the dormitory then if you see her take out a parchment, fly under Harry's bed. His name will obscure yours. Even if she suspects, she won't throw a curse in Harry's direction, giving you plenty of time to fly outside if necessary."

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Ron's Dream Comes True

As Hermione made her weary way to breakfast the next morning, she became determined to take out Daggard at the first opportunity. How, she did not know, but, as she grumbled in a low squeaky voice to Harry and Ron over their first cup of tea, "An attack on a witch's familiar is an attack on the witch herself."

Across Ron's shoulder, she saw Neville watching them – no, looking through them with a dreamy smile playing upon his lips. He didn't seem annoyed in the slightest that he was excluded from their whisperings. In fact, Hermione would have shared more of her knowledge with him, including her having a familiar, if the occasion had arisen. But he'd been negatively distant before Hogwarts, and now, well... positively in a world of his own.

"What is it with Neville?" she murmured.

"I think he's gone soppy on Susan," smirked Ron. "And she's been all broody and remote recently. He gives her more attention in defence practice than anyone but she's playing hard to get."

Harry giggled boyishly. "No, he needs a girl to lead him on, so it's more likely... Lavender!"

His voice must have been a little higher than intended because the girl in question said, "What about me?"

Hermione cut in quickly, "The boys were just admiring your long dark hair, Lavender. The blue highlights really set it off nicely."

Even Neville turned his head to look, but Hermione could not see that his eyes were only partly focused on Lavender. Inwardly, his thoughts were far away up in the Turret of Terror. Not that he thought of the tower that way anymore – for him, the upper chamber was one of tranquillity.

Lavender smiled. "Oh, thanks! I might keep it this way. It's so much easier to brush now it's so silky smooth." With her hand, she smoothed a long tress forward over her shoulder. "You will teach me those spells, won't you, Hermione? You promised."

"Of course. Dark reddish-brown sets off your complexion nicely, fair and curly brings out your best features, but black is for... mystery and allure."

Parvati squealed and Lavender giggled. Fay said, "Will you do me as well, Hermione? I wanted to try dark, glistening ringlets."

Hermione nodded her head cheerfully in agreement but at that moment everyone was diverted by the arrival of the morning's owls. There was a thud as one bird dropped a package in front of Hermione then jostled with the Daily Prophet owl for the girl's attention. She gave them both crispy bacon rind and began removing the string from the packet. Inside was a very rough-looking book with a badly worn cover. There was no note so she opened it at the first page. The handwriting she recognised as belonging to Pandora Lovegood:

Dear Hermione, I finally got a practical Potions Tutomee working – well sort of – and this is the first version for you to test and we'll polish and improve it later. Sorry there's only one so far and it's a bit tatty as it was my working copy. As well as the usual instruction, theory and so on, I succeeded in bewitching the illustrations to observe and guide the student's ingredient and potion preparation – first-year anyway. With reasonable care, any student should be able to produce very good results. Do let me know how you get on with it. – Love, Pandora.

P.S. Luna told me she's often in touch with you and your friends so I suppose you know she's doing REALLY well over at Beauxbatons! I'm so proud of her, though I miss having her about the house dreadfully. She asked me to ask you if it would be alright if she lent me the mirror you gave her? She says she can share Ginny's because they're mostly together anyway. Then I can see and chat with her everyday!

"Ron! Your dream has come true at last!" Hermione pushed the Tutomee over to him. "Read that – but keep quiet about it." She glanced at Harry's bag which was open on the floor. "Have you got your diary with you, Harry?"

"Ron had it last."

"Whoa! This is so seriously brilliant!" said Ron, who'd just read Pandora's message. "And the picture's will hide from Snape? Like Binns's ones?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Ron, have you got Harry's diary?"

"This is so cool... Diary? Yeah..." He fumbled it out of his bag and handed it over, but his attention was on the Potions Tutomee. "I just can't wait to try this out on homework!"

Harry and Hermione exchanged astonished looks. She turned back to Ron. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Ronald Weasley?"

"Bloody brilliant!" said Ron, dreamily, caressing the threadbare cloth binding with a sausage-greasy hand. "I'm looking forward to seeing Snape's face after I start using this."

Hermione scribbled a supportive message to Luna then pushed the diary into Harry's bag.

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Mums Only Cry

That evening, Ron went over his Potions homework one more time using the Tutomee, gleeful that he could 'cheat' and improve on what he'd written. "This is even better than getting the answers off you, Hermione! It's the ultimate crib sheet and it doesn't care how many times it has to tell me the answers! All I have to do is copy it."

Soak it up, Ron, smiled Hermione, it's called learning.

They'd bagged the best sofa in front of the common room fireplace but Harry was chatting away in a corner of the common room into his own two-way mirror. He seemed more upbeat than he had been in a while, Hermione thought. As he finished, Hermione went over.

"How are they? Your mum and dad? I can see by your smile that you've not told them much about... her." She half-gestured towards Daggard who was in the usual spot, puffing away on her pipe.

The mirror was pushed most carefully deep into the bag he always kept with him before Harry answered. "No, it's not their fault, is it? They've been worrying about me but they're a bit more relaxed about everything now."

"Because you've not told them what's going on."

"What's the point? Mums only cry if they know you're unhappy. Anyway, I'll see them at Christmas. They said they've got a big surprise to tell me, but they want me to be there."

Hermione's ears pricked up. "Oh, yes...? Did... Was it Sirius who... Harry, did your dad ask you not to say anything that might upset your mum?"

Harry opened his mouth in surprise. "Yes, he did. Why?"

"Nothing. So, any hint what the surprise is?"

"You know something don't you! You spent a lot of time with Mum before we came to Hogwarts. Tell me!"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "That's for her to say, not me."

"Tell me or I'll..." He raised a mock fist. "I'll duel you till you beg on your knees."

Hermione giggled.

"What did you do, Hermione? Have you done something? It's magic isn't it? Got us all bigger mirrors?"

Hermione laughed.

The portrait hole opened and Neville came in humming to himself. He veered in Harry and Hermione's direction as soon as he heard them laughing. "Everyone looks happy today." As he passed Ron, his eyes fell on the Tutomee which was coaching Ron to do a deviously-clever rewrite. "Ah, I see," said Neville to Hermione as he reached the corner and dropped onto a seat beside the other two. "Will I be able to get one like Ron's as well?"

"It's up to Pandora. She'll probably wait for us to tell her how well this one is doing. Don't worry, it shouldn't be too long and you can share with Ron for now."

Neville gave a contented smile as he delved into his own bag of homework. "Life is good."

Hermione shook her head in puzzlement. For the first time she could ever remember, Ron was happy doing homework, Neville seemed more relaxed than she'd seen him before, yet the usually fun-loving Harry was now so often moody, and that made her depressed too. Something had to be done.

.

—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Questions: Abdullahsaurus asked if the princess will have a significance in the future, and the answer is yes, sort of to do with Neville's character growth.

CCBottle asked if there would be more 'relationship' between Harry/Hermione in this or another one of my stories. If you mean romantic relationship then expect more in this story because whereas there was romance between them in Merlin's Blessing, the story ended shortly after, whereas this story is long, very long, and I expect they'll be drawn more closely together when they're 13 or 14 so if the fic succeeds in reaching the end of the 7th year at Hogwarts then yes, there'll be more intimacy. But remember, this fic is intended to remain a T rating so similar in type to my other stories. Subtle steam I call it. Graphic plumbing is boring to me; there has to be story interest entwined with the erm... entwining. :D

ArtimuosJackson pointed out that likely there were other ways for young Tom Riddle to gain immortality, or Dumbledore would have quickly guessed Horcrux earlier. Well, Dumbledore did guess, but he didn't gain confirmation until 1992 when the diary turned up and only then did he suspect there might be more. The only other known way was the Philosopher's (Sorcerer's) Stone but Dumbledore explained that Voldemort would not wish to be reliant on regular drinks of the elixir it produces. No, if there are other means of becoming immortal, Riddle never found them – at least, it seems reasonable to suppose so for the sake of this fic?

Isa Lumitus is not comfortable with the narrative portraying as right and proper the imprisonment of villains then taking away their magic just because they believe Muggles are inferior, then Obliviating them before release without support so they'll likely become useless bums. My response is I agree it's a weakness of the narrative if it seems to portray the solution as morally good (though far better than Azkaban imo.) It's not good at all. It's a dreadful, terrible, last-resort solution by a flawed, savagely-traumatised character to save the world from the horror of seven-billion-plus deaths. Loosely speaking, I see Hermione's view as that punishment might change a person and the ensuing moral change will survive Obliviation (just as other character traits do.) But there is no guarantee of an improvement. So, since dark wizards use magic as a weapon for evil, Hermione believes they should be disarmed. Nor does Hermione have the time or skills to try to rehabilitate anyone other than the books she's provided so why risk more innocent victims? And Hermione doesn't imprison anyone solely for believing Muggles etc are inferior, but for the deaths or misery they cause. That's roughly it. Suggestions for a better, more humane way, given her nature and knowledge, and that infallible security requires that nobody but she can physically access the prisoners, would be welcome.

A related question by Isa Lumitus is about Rita and the 'untruthful' book being unnecessarily cruel. The answer is that Hermione hopes (and indeed tells Rita) that by being deprived of reliable facts she might come to value truth for its own sake. She regards that as moral improvement and therefore rehabilitating. Nor will Rita lose her writing skills. Amnesia victims normally remember how to read and write or play the piano whatever even though they can't recall how they learnt, and skilled Obliviation is much more clinically precise than a shock, stroke, or a blow on the head. She'll probably wake up in Singapore one day in an apartment with a year's rent paid up full and a clerical job lined up ready.

Many thanks for all 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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