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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. Now read on...
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Chapter 40
A Towering Emergency
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The Dorm Mouse
Although Hermione cautioned Ron and Neville not to spread any details of how she was being permitted to give Potion lessons, by mid-November, several Gryffindors had commented on the absence of the three from Snape's class, and how subdued and distant the Potions master had become. Some rumoured he was ill, others that he'd converted to an exotic pagan faith involving a struggle to control his inner skunk, while yet others swore he was Confunded or even – according to the Weasley twins – befuddled by a potion that had gone horribly right. Yet gradually Crest members learned from Ron and Neville that there was a 'secret' option for first-years to attend a Snape-free Potions lesson, and Hannah and Dean were the first to ask if they could join in.
Hermione had been repaid for the potions supplies that Snape had vanished, and Ron had received back his Tutomee, both via McGonagall – with Ron exulting, "Snape, the cowardly git, couldn't face us himself!" – and was now sharing the book with the other three. But three soon became four when Hannah finally persuaded Justin to join them. Had Hannah and Justin been such close friends at this age in her previous life, Hermione wondered. If so, she hadn't noticed. Perhaps her pre-Hogwarts letters to recruit them at the same time had created that relationship. Had her meddling in time wrecked Neville and Hannah's marriage? Hermione's head whirled agitatedly with the sense of being responsible for their child not being born at all.
Such was her state of mind when she prepared for bed that night. As she buttoned up her nightgown she tried to calm her mind by moving her fingers very, very slowly and purposefully. One button. ... Two... It didn't help at all. By the time she'd done up the top button she was still fighting the frustration within herself.
"Aaaaghhh!" But it was not Hermione who had cried out; Fay had leapt onto a chair and was pointing at the floor, shrieking, "A mouse! There's a mouse!"
Parvati and Lavender laughed – albeit rather nervously – but Sally-Anne tried to reassure Fay. Hermione reached down towards the mouse and summoned it into her hand, holding it up for Fay to see that the little creature was harmless.
But Fay was drumming her feet on the chair in horror, practically running on the spot, such was her distress, and when she burst into tears, Hermione backed off, regretting the terror she had caused her dorm mate.
"Take it away from her," pleaded Sally-Anne in her soft voice, "please take it away and get rid of it, Hermione,"
Feeling awful, Hermione went to the window and opened it.
"Not out there," said Parvati, "it'll die horribly if it falls all that way down the tower! Can't you vanish it or something?"
"Don't be silly," cried Lavender. "You can't vanish living things!" "We need a mousetrap jinx – that's what my dad uses, a trapping jinx. Quick and clean."
Hermione had closed the window and looked at Fay who, bare feet still well off the ground and hem of her nightgown clutched protectively about her legs, was half-squatting atop her chair, miserable and sick with fear, while Sally-Anne's arm hugged around her shoulder. They couldn't stay there all night. Certainly Hermione knew that Lavender was wrong about vanishing living things – at least, small ones. Yes, few wizards could vanish large, complex creatures without exhausting themselves, but a little mouse was 5th-year O.W.L. magic. However, even if she did dispose of it, nothing would soothe Fay for hours after. After... After...
It was becoming easier now to let remorse draw her back a few minutes in time...
Once again, Hermione was about to button up her nightgown and Fay was still pulling hers down over her head, blind to the mouse running across the floor towards her. Seizing her wand, Hermione softly murmured, "Evanesco." The mouse disappeared and Hermione sat back onto her bed. The vanishing spell was notoriously difficult and rather draining when used on living things – even more so after slipping back in time a few minutes.
Fay smiled as her head popped up out of the neck of her gown. "I love this peachy scent the elves use on our laundry, don't you, Sally?" Barefooted, she skipped over to her bed. "And it complements beautifully the jasmine on the pillows too."
Sally-Anne smiled. "Yes, it's lovely, and there's no conflict at all."
Hermione felt herself in agreement, and, as she settled back on her own bed, she realised there was both good and bad in the world, success and failure – and no need to fret when the first easily balanced out the second. She slept well that night.
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Dean's News
More Potions Tutomees had arrived from Pandora by the end of November, and it was just as well because, despite there being no deliberate persuasion to recruit them, two more Crest members joined Hermione's Potions class: Ernie and Susan, who were curious to find out what was going on and pleased to find they need not put up with Snape any longer.
"Three Hufflepuffs but none of the Ravenclaws have come over yet," said Hermione, as the class prepared to brew up a stain remover. "You'd think it would be the other way round."
"Why?" said Dean. "You mean, Ravenclaws should be smart enough to see the advantages but the Hufflepuffs you'd expect to be loyal to Hogwarts?"
"We ARE loyal to Hogwarts!" cried Ernie. "But we're also loyal to you, Hermione. You know things, we've seen that. And you do things – I mean, this class is impossible but somehow you've done it. And you've always helped us. You've done nothing but help us. Without you, we'd each have to fend for ourselves."
There were strong murmurs of agreement. Hermione's cheeks went slightly pink and she turned her face aside to cast the lesson's recipe upon the blackboard, mumbling, "Well, you deserve all the help you can get."
When she turned back she clapped her hands to hide her embarrassment. "Right, enough chat. To work! This Potion is easy but you can see there are a lot of ingredients to prepare so I've saved it for this Double Potions period. Take your time and check each other at every stage. And remember the Tutomees. Keep them open at Wizard Garwin's picture so he can keep an eye on your preparations and help you if you stray. Hopefully by next year we'll have enough Tutomees for you all to have one each."
As they worked, Hermione moved amongst them to advise and support their endeavours. "Keep grinding, Ernie – yes I know you've done the three minutes but you're applying less pressure than most of us. Don't be so dainty. Imagine those pixie nuts are an effigy of Mister Snape. That's it! Crush those nuts!"
"Susan, you're not–"
"Sorry? What...?"
"Your not giving all your attention to squaring off your ladles of bone powder. Remember, Level your ladles; it makes a huge difference. Watch how Neville does it. Show her, Neville."
But Ron's theory that Susan was Neville's secret would-be friend seemed ill-founded because both of them appeared a little distracted, but not with each other.
"Good, Ron, but just fold your gecko spleen over the scorpion legs, don't beat them with the tenderiser; you're sploshing spleen absolutely everywhere." She moved on, with Ron sticking out his tongue behind her back then grinning at Neville.
"So... what's with Harry not talking to any of us these days," whispered Dean when she came round to check the size of the measuring spoon he was using.
"It's because of his bodyguard," said Hermione. "He's fine with us, really he is."
"So why's he friends with Malfoy then?"
"What!"
"Well, perhaps not best buddies, but Malfoy brought a chair and sat next to him in Snape's last lesson."
"Mister Snape please, Dean, while I'm teaching, or 'Professor' if you wish. I can't have you disrespecting other teachers just because I let you call me Hermione. That's one point from Gryffindor."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, alright, Mister Snape's lesson."
"Did Mister Snape tell Malfoy to sit with Harry?"
"Don't think so – but he didn't object either. That hag was puffing a lot on her pipe though."
"Daggard? Not surprised. She doesn't trust Slytherins, I don't think."
"Who does?"
"What about Zabini? – watch what you're doing with that spoon, Dean."
Dean scooped up some spilt cockroach pus that was congealing into one big lump. "What about him?"
"Doesn't he mostly sit with Malfoy?"
"Zabini and Malfoy don't always see eye to eye, haven't you noticed?"
"Yes, I suppose so... do you know if there's any particular reason?"
Dean shook his head. "Damn! How many stirs was that?"
"Eighty-three," said Garwin from the Tutomee he was sharing with Susan and Ernie. "And you're stirring with the measuring spoon. You should use the stirring spoon."
"What's the difference?"
"Well, the measuring spoon is for measuring and the stirring spoon is for–"
"–stirring, I get it."
Hermione cut in, "Garwin, the stirring spoon has a much larger bowl so the entire mix is rotated within the cauldron, and the handle is fatter and better shaped too, so the hand is less likely to ache from really long stirs. Tell the other Tutomees would you please?"
"Will do."
"Sorry, Dean, I was distracted else I'd have stopped you. Do another fifty stirs with the measuring spoon. It won't be perfect but it will save you starting again."
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A Shocking Outcry
It was at about this time that Hermione first sensed Daggard lightly tickling at her mind from time to time. She'd anticipated a Legilimens probe eventually, of course, and with Hermione teaching her own Potions class – that, no doubt, must have triggered the half-hag's curiosity. Daggard learnt nothing from the plain, bossy-but-nervous, swot persona that Hermione presented to the intruder, and the Fidelia charm she'd cast on her closest friends would block Daggard from finding out anything critical from Harry and the others.
Still, Hermione thought, as she sat eating a caramel pudding with Ron and Neville at dinner one evening, it wasn't good for the hag to regard her as anything special. Hopefully Daggard interprets Harry's regard for me as misguided hero-worship, or maybe even...
Hermione felt herself growing hot then annoyed at her juvenile response. You silly girl! Averting her face in case Ron noticed, she gazed away from the Gryffindor table. Draco had finished early and, with only a backward glance rather than a goodbye, had quietly left the chatter and laughter of the Slytherin table. She felt eyes on her from the staff tables but waited a full minute before slowly turning just enough to see out of the corner of her eye. Snape of course, glowering and simmering, was no doubt wishing her dead. What's new?
More minutes passed. Ron reached for another jelly trifle with ice cream, changed his mind and opted for a hot rhubarb crumble and custard instead. Neville was his usual contented self, dreamily spooning rice pudding and repeatedly glancing at his watch as if he had a scorching date with... was it possible he'd made a friend he was keeping quiet about? If it was Susan then they were doing a good job of hiding the fact.
A glance at the Hufflepuff table revealed Susan in conversation with Ernie. If she and Neville left the Great Hall within thirty seconds of one another then that might be grounds for optimism. Hermione resolved to keep her eyes moving around the tables while really focusing on those two.
Neville finally finished his rice, pushed his dish away, then leaned back with a sigh. Go, Neville! thought Hermione.
Many of the Ravenclaws had arrived late and were only just starting on their dessert.
Goyle had chocolate sauce all down his front but seemed completely oblivious of it. Most of the other Slytherins were apparently absorbed in an extended joke being told by Flint. Was the boy drunk? Goyle was leaning over to steal a few roast potatoes Zabini had abandoned when, apparently disgusted by Flint's behaviour, he'd left the hall. You idiot, Goyle! You've started dessert! And you can have ten helpings for free if you want so why steal someone's leavings? Typical Slytherin of the brain-dead variety.
Neville was gone. When did he leave? But Susan... well, she'd finished her pudding but seemed to be in no hurry to depart. Was Neville waiting outside for her? Yes, leaving at separate times was smart if they wanted to keep their relationship secret. Hermione looked around some more. Harry had slunk away already, still keeping himself apart. Poor Harry, valiantly trying to shield his friends as far away from danger as possible.
Hermione didn't dwell too much on Harry's predicament. She knew him well. Once Daggard was out of the picture then their close friendship would bring them back together. "You know what, Ron? Harry's going home at Christmas and–"
"Yeah, I know."
"–and I just wondering if Daggard's obligation was only for while Harry was away from his parent's protection? I mean, that makes sense doesn't it? She only came on the scene when we got on the train to Hogwarts."
"Maybe that's why she stole the oath – to find out if she can have a break over the holidays. She's probably as sick of us as we are of her."
Hermione stared. "My God, Ron, you're right! That means we can be friends with Harry at Christmas and he'll have no reason to avoid us."
"That'll prove it then," he said, continuing to scrape and shovel the final particles of crumble into his mouth.
Ron belched. To be fair, he smothered it as best he could, but it was usually a sign he'd finished and was lightly thumping his chest to coax the last mouthful to follow its brothers down to his stomach.
He looked up with a well-satisfied expression. "Done?" he said.
Hermione saw her own dish was now empty and nodded. With one last disappointed look at Susan, she rose to her feet.
"MURRRDDDERRRR!" Argus Filch had come running into the Great Hall.
Everyone stopped talking, even Flint who had only just opened his mouth to deliver the punch line to his long-winded joke.
"MURDER, HEADMASTER! ... THERE'S ... BEEN ... ... AN ... 'ORRIBLE..."
Old Filch continued running until he reached the Headmaster's podium where, wheezing heavily, he almost collapsed and uproar broke out amongst the students. Whatever message he gasped out certainly alarmed Dumbledore who stood up to announce, "SILENCE! Students will remain calm. Prefects, please escort your houses back to their dormitories. Senior staff, please accompany me to the Astronomy Tower. Hagrid, bring Madam Pomfrey."
Hermione immediately thought of Harry. He'd left earlier with the hag. If she had... but surely she couldn't have attacked Harry yet or she'd die herself, wouldn't she?
"She's barking mad! She might do anything" cried Ron, as if he'd been answering her unspoken question.
Wailing desperately, Hermione squealed, "Ron! Cover for me!" She dropped her bag then crouched low half under the table to pick it up again. "Say I'm sick in the 7th-floor corridor loo!"
Amidst the chaotic throng, Ron leaned over Hermione and nobody noticed her vanish. Along passageways, up stairs, and through walls she flew, anxious to trap Daggard near the scene of the crime, but by the time she reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, Hermione found it empty.
There could only be a minute or two before the Headmaster would arrive, but she cancelled her immaterial spell, preferring not to deplete her magic any further just yet, and began a search. Almost a minute passed and she was hurrying so much she almost missed it in the gloom: a long, darkly-patterned cloth atop a stone bench. She leaned closer and cast a glimmer of light from her wand. The material was far too thin to cushion the hard surface nor even to keep out the chill, yet it was twisted and ruffled as if someone – no, two people – had been sitting there. She tried to make out the black markings that were near-indistinguishable upon the dark cloth...
A cry from outside the castle startled her and she stumbled then skidded sideways. Hermione stared at the floor which she now saw was slippery with a dark, wet stain. She gasped. Her footprints had skewed over others, obscuring the size of whoever had stepped through this puddle, and she dare not walk beyond it for fear of leaving her own imprints!
"Through here..." Professor Flitwick was remarkably nimble as one would expect of a duelling master, and had arrived slightly ahead of the others, his bright wandlight shining a warning to Hermione. As he entered, she hurriedly doused her own glow and became non-solid again.
With the immense power of his Lumos charm, Flitwick immediately saw what had taken Hermione a while to find, and he ran towards the bench, slowing only when he saw the mess on the floor to call out, "Albus! There's blood on the floor!" But as the commotion of approaching feet from the stairs grew, he murmured to himself, "No, wait..." He bent down and touched a finger to the substance then sniffed at it. "Interesting..."
What had he discovered? Hermione squinted hard. As she crouched down to see better, she had one glimpse of something lying under the bench before Dumbledore and the others were rushing in from one direction, Flitwick was running to the parapet on the other side, and Hermione remembered the cry from outside in that direction. She raced after him.
"Poppy! There's wine spilt here!" squeaked Flitwick as loudly as he could over the ramparts. "Had he been drinking? Perhaps he was intoxicated and fell accidentally or... jumped. Examine his lips!"
Leaning over with him, Hermione felt a dreadful chill from the night air. Far below them was a wavering pool of light cast by a torch in Hagrid's hand. Beside him, Madam Pomfrey was crouching over a body.
"No need," Pomfrey shouted back up, "It's half-melted by a narrow blast, but he was holding to his mouth what I think might have been a goblet."
Her magic was almost spent but Hermione threw herself over the edge and hurtled down to see for herself. She would never accept that Harry had willingly blasted himself off the top of the tower. And yet, might that be just the way his intoxicated mind saw as a way of protecting us from Daggard?
Despite bracing herself, Hermione stared apprehensively at the corpse-like features. The burnt, shrivelled hands. The robes boasting a torn Slytherin crest. And the blond hair, dark with its owner's blood. It was Draco Malfoy, still gripping his black jet and silver chalice – though now warped and twisted almost out of recognition.
Hagrid coughed politely. "Poppy...? Is he...?"
"Close to death, yes," said Pomfrey. We must get him to St. Mungo's immediately."
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Percy's Roll Call
"Line up, line up! This must be done properly!" Percy Weasley stood blocking the stair to the boys' dormitory while another prefect guarded the girls' stair. He began calling the register.
Ron hissed out of the side of his mouth, "Dean, where's Harry?"
"Bell, Katie!"
"Present."
"Brown, Lavender!"
"Present."
Dean whispered back, "Not seen Harry since dinner."
"Dunbar, Fay!" called Percy.
"Present," said Fay.
"Finnegan, Seamus!"
"Here ... over here," said Seamus, from his seat near the fire.
Percy groaned. "You must say 'Present' or you might not–"
George said, "Oh come on, Perce, or we'll be here all night! What else could "'Here, over here' mean?"
"There's a procedure to be observed in emergencies and if murder is not an emergency then I don't know what is. Now, if you don't mind..."
"Who killed who, anyway?" Alicia called out.
"We don't know," said Percy sounding quite proud to include himself in the 'we'. "Now, where was I...?"
"You'd just reached Weasley, Pompous Ignoratius" said Fred, "So we're all waiting for you to say, 'Here'."
There were a few sniggers but most of the faces in the Gryffindor common room were strained with worry.
"Dunbar? Did I do Dunbar?"
"Uuh... present?" Fay said again.
"Right... Finnegan, Seamus."
"I'm still over here," said Seamus, wearily.
Percy glared at him but ticked off his name.
Ron braced himself for the next name.
"Granger, Hermione!"
"She was sick in the bog outside, Perce," said Ron. "You know what her nerves are like every time there's a murder or something."
"Ronald! This is no time for frivolity! Miss Dunbar, since I've already called you, would you go and see if Miss Granger is alright and if so, bring her in for roll call? It's very important."
Fay scurried out of the portrait hole. Ron gulped nervously.
"Johnson, Angelina!" continued Percy.
Fay soon came back with Hermione who was genuinely pale-faced and dabbing her mouth with a hankie to support her alibi. "Present," she said weakly in response to Percy's call.
"What happened?" Ron whispered anxiously. "Did you find Harry? Who was it got killed?"
"Isn't he here?" She scanned worriedly around the common room. "I was sure he'd be here. ... Ron, I've got to go look for him!"
Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Well, they won't let you up to your dorm until everyone's counted, and you can't sneak out past the Fat Lady without being seen."
"Longbottom, Neville!"
Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks. Ron considered hiding behind the others and calling out 'Present' but he knew Percy would recognise his voice.
"Longbottom, Neville!" repeated Percy, then added haughtily, "Last chance or you get entered as a suspect!" The shocked crowd of Gryffindors glanced around each other, nervously realising that if someone as ordinary as Neville was suspect, then any one of them might be a murderer. Percy watched their expressions distrustfully for a few seconds – as though he thought an accomplice might be hiding Neville in a copious pocket – then, with a dramatic flourish of his quill, he marked his list.
Ron called out, "Oh, come on, Percy! You can't seriously think Neville could murder anyone!" But Percy had continued calling out names, and when Ron looked at Hermione's expression, he knew they were both thinking the same thing: Or could he? Neville had been behaving very oddly recently, sneaking off on his own everyday.
"Patil, Parvati!"
"Present."
"Perks, Sally-Anne!"
"Present."
Hermione knew who was next and began to edge away towards the Portrait hole...
"Potter, Harry!"
In the silence, so many eyes were looking wildly around for the missing boy, and particularly toward the entrance as if Harry might burst through at the last moment holding a giant machete dripping with blood, that Hermione could not slip away unobserved.
"Potter, Harry!" called Percy once more. "Last chance or I'll mark you as a–"
"Present." The muffled cry had come from above and behind him. Daggard was following Harry down the boys' stairs.
"Merlin! How did you two get past me, Potter? Anyone else up there?"
"No. We came back from dinner a bit earlier. What's going on?"
"And you came straight here from the Great Hall?"
"Yes, what's happened?"
"I'm sorry, Potter, but you'll have to go on my list of suspects because you were missing when the crime was committed. You too, uuh... Miss Daggard."
"Suspects?" said Harry.
Daggard sneered contemptuously, "Summ-un nicked one of the ol' fart's lemon drops?"
"Leave it out, Perce," said George, rolling his eyes. "He means unaccounted for, Harry, not 'suspects'."
Percy flared, "Now cut that out! This is not a game! There's been a murder at Hogwarts!"
Both Harry and Daggard stiffened with shock – Hermione was watching them closely. If Daggard was acting then she was very good – but how could she have been separated from Harry long enough to get to the Astronomy Tower, sit talking with Draco on that bench – for the twisted-up cloth proved that – kill him, and return? And why? Draco had never been a threat to Harry; he'd been polite and respectful. Hermione would have to wait until the next day to find out...
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The Last Suspect
Every common room in Hogwarts would have been abuzz with rumour that evening except that all prefects were instructed to bundle everyone up to their dormitories early in order to split them up. So apart from localised gossip, it was not until the following morning that they all heard the grim events of the night before.
Harry, Neville – who had turned up later – Daggard, and several other 'Unaccounted for' had been summoned early to the Headmaster's office where two senior Aurors cleared them of any possible connection with the attack – all except one. At breakfast, two Aurors stood beside Professor Dumbledore as he rose to speak.
"It is with regret that I have to inform you of a terrible attack on a student here at Hogwarts yesterday evening, resulting in his requiring extensive treatment at St. Mungo's without much hope of recovery. That boy's name is Draco Malfoy."
Beginning with gasps, then cries, there was a gradually increasing uproar from three House tables, and the Headmaster allowed for it as his eyes carefully scrutinised as many reactions as possible. Only Slytherin had already worked out who was missing and they remained mostly silent with only a little murmuring and muttering amongst themselves.
Finally, Dumbledore raised a wand. It was not his own nor did he point it. He lifted it up horizontally, held it there, and the Great Hall fell silent. "This ... was found at the scene of the crime."
Hermione stifled a grimace. That had to be the mysterious object she'd briefly glimpsed in the shadow under the bench!
Dumbledore continued, "We now know this wand was the one used to curse young Malfoy but its owner has gone missing. He disappeared soon after the incident, and Ministry Aurors have begun an extensive search of the countryside surrounding Hogwarts and including the castle itself. If any of you have any information as to the whereabouts of... Blaise Zabini, then please inform–"
But the rest of Dumbledore's announcement was lost in the screams and cries of astonishment that filled the air. Many children were on their feet. Perhaps most had assumed it had all been a horrible accident or that a student had strayed into the Forest and been attacked by one of the creatures known to live there, but a student being murdered by another student was unthinkable. And the murderer possibly still lurking in a dark corner...
Several Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws headed out the door. Dumbledore hadn't the heart to stop them. He knew they'd be rushing up to the owlery to contact their parents. The Aurors working around the castle would watch out for them, but the Headmaster doubted that students were in any real danger. No, the early testimony of other Slytherins suggested that Zabini had some grievance with Malfoy and had lured him up to the Tower – perhaps enticed by the promise of an illicit drink of wine.
Dumbledore sighed. The Ministry would be keeping a watchful eye on Hogwarts until this mess was fully cleared up. He'd already had the Undersecretary's head sticking out of his Floo this morning to inform him that Fudge was furious. The Minister had enjoyed a long association with the Malfoy family, and no doubt Lucius had threatened that relationship as soon as he'd heard about his son. Zabini must be found – and quickly.
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
Well, the previous chapter was one of the most liked so far! Clearly, the lesson for me to learn is that payback is popular, but prolonged, kick-in-the-ass payback is even better! I must try to remember that... :D
Well, since you've all been so good, there is a bonus short story original fiction (not Potter) I've posted at fictionpress. Search for The Siedhmyrk (but note my user name is Tom Haskworth over there and at AO3 too where I've also done a fun graphic comic page called Harry Potter and the Noble Sacrifice. Enjoy! (and don't forget to leave a comment!)
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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