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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 41
The Tightening Screw
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Neville Exposed
The end of November approached and Narcissa Malfoy took up her daily vigil at St. Mungo's, grieving beside her son who still remained in a near-dead coma. From behind her, a hand came to rest comfortingly on her shoulder, and she heard her husband murmuring yet again how he would exterminate every last Zabini from the face of the Earth if Draco died.
But Malfoy's attacker was still at large. Not one clue had yet emerged as to Zabini's whereabouts. Two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff had been withdrawn from Hogwarts by their parents until the 'evil young child-killer' as the Daily Prophet had branded him, was captured or proven to have left the school.
At least Harry and Neville were no longer suspect – though both Ron and Hermione had an unspoken shame that they had even considered them in any way connected with the crime. Yet is Neville wholly innocent? Might he have been tricked or Confunded? wondered Hermione one evening in the common room. Why is he so secretive about his disappearances? Yet she realised he must have have had a witness to account for his whereabouts that night to Dumbledore, so it could only be an innocent diversion that occupied the boy.
She looked towards Ron but he was immersed in the Potions homework she'd set him. Despite her gathering so many chicks under her wing, Hermione was feeling lonely. With Ginny and Luna in France, Harry keeping away from her, Ron – well he seemed to be thriving on interacting with his undemanding, uncritical Tutomee illustrations. It was as if, without the burden of struggling to win approval by memorising boring facts, he'd been transformed into a hard-working student, yet he himself was unaware of it. While as for Neville – where was that boy?
As if in answer to her thoughts, Neville came in the portrait hole whistling quietly to himself and softly singing under his breath, "Make believe you're brave, and the trick will take you far..."
Hermione frowned and stood up to express her astonishment. "That's a Muggle song, Neville!"
"Yes, Dean taught me!" laughed Neville. He caught both her hands in his and whirled her around, singing and whistling, "You may be as brave ... as you make believe – you – are!"
His happiness was infectious and Hermione found herself smiling with him.
"Stay here, Black!" growled Daggard from across the room.
Hermione and Neville came to a halt and looked around. Harry was walking over to them, his expression hard to read.
"I said, stay, yer ruddy skelp!" cried the semi-hag.
Neville strode forward to meet Harry's approach and his attitude was clearly confrontational. "Harry can talk to us if he wants, you loathsome ugly git!"
Neville, thought Hermione, there's a time to be brave and a time for discretion...
"Oh, yeah? Who d'yer fink you are, Longbottom, yer sick perv?" Daggard left a trail of smoke hanging in the air as she strode past Harry, pushing him aside. "Yeah, I know all 'bout yer pervy girlfrien', dun' I?"
The colour drained from Neville's face along with his expression of boldness; the jutting chin sank and his nerve faltered. Homework was abandoned as everyone in the crowded chamber looked in his direction. Occasional fights were a welcome diversion but everyone, including the prefects, knew that Daggard had been given the administrative powers of a teacher; would Neville take her on like Hermione had faced off Snape?
But Neville stood dumbstruck as Daggard continued her tirade. "Din't yer fink to wipe the paint of yer lips, yer pathetic, depraved freak?"
Eyes wide, Neville touched a finger to his lips and it came away tacky red. "I forgot..." he muttered to himself.
Daggard turned to the gathered onlookers. "Yeah, Fatbottom 'ere's so warped and twisted 'e's bin snoggin' portraits. The disgusting prick can't make real friends so 'e rubs up to pictures. Never wondered where 'e sneaks off ter? And comes back with a big silly grin all over his mush?" She grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away. "Tol' yer, din' I? Keep away or there'll be worse."
If the onlookers had laughed and sniggered at Neville, it would have been bad enough, but they didn't. Instead they stared in shocked disgust at him as if his repulsiveness was beneath their pity.
Tears sprung to Neville's eyes and he ran up to his dormitory, choking back sobs.
"Yer sick girly ponce!" Daggard shouted after him.
"Depraved is right," Hermione heard Lavender murmur. "And to think I used to quite admire Neville."
Parvati shook her head. "I don't want to be near him again." She shuddered. "I'd feel... unclean. What if he... rubbed up against me?"
All around, others were making similar comments. "He oughtn't to be mixing with decent Gryffindors." – "Not even fit to be a Slytherin." – "I think I did see paint on the front of his trousers once." – "Do you think he makes those portraits take off all their clothes for him first?"
The destruction of Neville was plain for Hermione to see. Daggard had assassinated him as surely as if she'd removed his backbone. Everything that Hermione had done to help Neville was for naught, for his developing character would surely be stunted unless...
There wasn't much time. Hermione sprinted for the boys' stair and rushed up them. When she burst into the boys' dormitory, a window was wide open to the chill night air and for a moment Hermione thought she was too late. But Neville was face down on his bed, shaking with humiliation and despair.
"Go away, Hermione! You can't even see me. I'm less than nothing."
She grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him over with a pushing charm which held him there; there was red paint daubed accusingly across his pillow. "No! You listen to me, Neville. I can fix this but there are only seconds to spare. I know Daggard made it all up. There was no paint on your lips when we danced. The hag must have hexed you. Just tell me the truth and I can undo this."
Neville shook his head. "I'm s-sorry, Hermione, but it's all true." At her shocked expression he hurriedly added, "We were just friends. We talked. She m-made me happy. But I kept... k-kissing her... over and over. She begged me to stop but I couldn't. I'm too horrible to be alive..." He began crying again. "She must despise me forever."
"Who, Neville?"
"A girl from long, long ago and far away – in a painting. She's... special. She's..." His voice faded to a soft murmur that was almost a prayer. "Etherea."
Hermione struggled to absorb what Neville was saying. "Neville, this has to stop. It's not healthy. You know magical portraits aren't real people, don't you?"
He nodded dully.
"Right then, I can undo this but I need you to promise not to see her again and to trust me."
"It's too late, Hermione. It's over. Hogwarts is over. It was all a dream anyway that I could ever have a best friend and this is why. I can't be trusted. How can you dare to even be near me in case I–?"
She slapped his face and Neville blinked in astonishment, her fingermarks darkening on his pale face.
"Now you listen to me, Neville Longbottom! You've seen what I can do and I've never lied to you. I'm telling you now I can undo this but I need your permission right this second. NOW!" She glared at him, then her expression softened. "Then it will all be as it was before, trust me."
Neville stared up at her. "You can change this? It's not possible. How?"
"I can undo it if we're quick. We'll live it again, you and I. But you mustn't confront Daggard this time, understand? Turn away. If Harry talks to us then fine. You keep in the background. Don't give the hag any excuse. She doesn't care about hurting you. She just used you to keep Harry in his place. This time don't give her any reason."
"But everyone will still think I'm disgusting. They'll never understand how wonderful she–"
"THEY WON'T KNOW WHAT ISN'T TRUE! Don't you see? It will never have happened. It won't be simply a change – it will – not – have – happened!"
He shook his head. "I can't believe... you mean... you can really do that?"
She nodded. "Decide now, Neville, we're out of time."
"Nothing could be worse than what I feel right now." groaned Neville. "Do it. Even if it kills me. ... I hope it does."
Hermione seized both his hands.
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Neville Unashamed
"You may be as brave ... as you – make... believe... you..."
The words had started to tumble involuntarily out of Neville exactly as before until he realised that, to his astonishment, he was dancing with Hermione again. But this time she was stumbling, sinking down...
"Help me back into my seat, Neville," she murmured weakly.
"Stay here, Black!" growled Daggard from across the room.
"Ignore her, Neville!" hissed Hermione. "She's talking to Harry. Just look at me. Whatever you do, don't do or say anything confrontational."
Bewildered, Neville helped her down into her armchair, but he couldn't resist looking around. Ron was fully occupied with his Tutomee, students were busy with their homework, and nobody was taking any notice of him. He touched his lips. There was not even the smell of paint nor did his cheeks sting from Hermione's slap. "How in Merlin's name has...?"
"I said, stay, yer ruddy skelp!"
"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," Harry was saying to Hermione as he was dragged away by the half-hag.
"I understand, Harry!" said Hermione. "Don't worry. We'll find a way..."
"You did it," said Neville, staring at Hermione in amazement. "You actually did it. I mean... you really did it." He kept his gaze upon her, thinking through the enormity of what had taken place. "And you... you live with this... living-again-thing all the time? Seeing things happen repeatedly?"
Hermione nodded. "Not everything, because I don't remember every detail and some things have changed, but yes, I've already watched Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff at Quidditch next week."
Neville managed a weak smile. "I think even I could have guessed that. What about... yes, what about Christmas? Will Mum and Dad get me the Ultimate Book of Herbs I've been badgering them for?" He tutted to himself. "I don't suppose you'd know that anyway."
Hermione stared at Neville, unwilling to tell him that in her lifetime his parents had been tortured into madness and years after had their throats cut as they lay helpless.
"What?" said Neville. "Were we poor? It's a really expensive book. Perhaps I should..." When Hermione still did not answer he studied her expression. "They didn't make it, did they?"
"Nobody did," Hermione said flatly. "Everyone of us was killed except me."
Neville shook his head and groaned softly.
Hermione's face darkened. "Perhaps they were the lucky ones. I survived a lifetime of hell on Earth. Those same dark forces are again gathering in both magical and Muggle worlds and we must do better this time. Neville, you and the others have got to help or we're all sunk." She blinked away sudden tears. "But don't die this time, Neville, damn you – please don't die!"
She gave him a quick hug and stumbled off upstairs, leaving Neville bewildered and shocked.
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The Twins' Progress
There were still a few Aurors patrolling the castle and grounds towards the end of November, and Minister Fudge had been seen remonstrating with Dumbledore that they were no longer searching within, but guarding the students whom the Headmaster had failed to protect from the violence. Padma said she'd overheard the Minister mention bringing in Dementors to stand guard at the gates but Dumbledore had protested vehemently. However, when Zabini was briefly sighted near Gringotts in Diagon Alley, the last of the Aurors departed Hogwarts to join in the hunt elsewhere.
As for Daggard, the first glimmer of hope regarding Harry's predicament came with the failing light of December. Ron brought Hermione news that the twins, far from forgetting their promise to consider ways of removing the half-hag, had been quite busy plotting and planning different schemes.
"Follow me," said Ron, mysteriously, on the first Saturday morning of the month. "When they accept a challenge they do a professional job."
Hermione frowned as she followed him out of the portrait hole. "Why can't they just come and tell me?"
"Well, they've got some papers to show you, documents and things like that. They can't really spread them out in the common room, can they?"
"You've seen them?"
"Sort of, but I'm not sure I understand what Fred and George are getting at yet."
Ron led Hermione to the fourth floor where he stopped in front of a large mirror, glanced a few times left and right, then stared into the mirror.
"What are we waiting for?"
"You'll see."
And now Hermione did think she could distinguish something – a ghostly shape in the mirror behind their reflections. She glanced behind her but nobody was there. When she looked back, the gloomy apparition was nearer, apparently passing through them and reaching out to the mirror frame. It swung inwards. Fred stood in a dark, narrow hallway behind it, easing to one side to let them squeeze by and grinning. "Step into our office."
Hermione gasped. "Of course! The fourth floor secret passage to–!" She stopped herself.
Fred looked slightly crestfallen. "You already know about our discovery?" He looked reproachfully at Ron who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
After leading them along a narrow stone corridor, he rounded a bend into a larger hallway where George was hunched over a long table scrutinising pieces of parchment. He looked up as they arrived.
"She already knew," said Fred, "and where it leads to – don't you?" he added, looking back at Hermione.
"Hogsmeade," she said.
George pulled a face. "Oh well, I suppose it was a bit much to expect we were the only ones to know about it."
"You are the only ones," said Hermione, "apart from myself and now Ron of course."
"It's not much," admitted Fred in an apologetic tone, "a bit crumbly and in need of repair, but this part is safe enough."
"A word to the wise," said Hermione, "don't use it after your fourth year. It's going to collapse and I'd hate for you to be using it when it does."
Fred and George frowned at one another. "What makes you so sure? It doesn't look that bad." said George.
"I told you, she sees things," said Ron.
"Wooooh! Like Trelawney sees bottles of cooking sherry fly into her pockets when she accidentally wanders into the kitchens?"
"No, not like Trelawney," said Hermione, solemnly.
"And did you see us getting squashed?" said Fred, winking at George. "Because if you did, and we stop using the tunnel, then it won't happen, so how could you see it? So you wouldn't tell us. So we'd go in the tunnel and get crushed. So you would tell us. So then we wouldn't go, but then you wouldn't see it so you wouldn't tell us so we would go but then–"
"No, no, stop! stop! It's not like that all. There are no circular paradoxes like those that cause such magical havoc when Time-turners are misused. I only see what is probable and even then some things are more definite than others. It appears certain that the tunnel will collapse but what happens to you is less certain. For instance, now I've warned you, you might be stupid enough to spend more time in here watching for it to happen. I'd hate to be the cause of masonry being damaged as it bounces off your thick skulls."
George smirked disbelievingly. "Thing is though, we've grown quite attached to using this tunnel."
"Yes," said Fred, "and depend on it remaining open until they end of our seventh year. You think you could manage to 'see' that for us?" He nudged George on the arm.
Hermione frowned. "Suppose I tell you about another tunnel? A better tunnel? One that leads directly into Honeydukes cellar? One that does remain open beyond your seventh year?"
Fred blinked. George held his breath. Fred recovered first. "Who do we have to kill?"
"Tell us what you've found about Daggard and I'll show you the other tunnel."
"Deal!" said George and Fred in unison. Fred sniggered. "We were going to tell you anyway."
"So was I," smirked Hermione.
"Right to business..." said George. "We considered several options that all came to a dead end."
Fred said, "Very dead, some of them if you catch our drift."
"Then we realised we needed to approach the whole problem from the opposite direction – from the very beginning."
"The oath?" said Hermione, glancing over the many parchments and sheets littered on the tabletop.
"Exactly," said George. "We've been owling Dad regularly for the last month or so, telling him we were conducting a research project for our Ancient Runes studies. Legally, a copy of all runic oaths should be lodged with the Ministry so we were hoping to find Daggard's. Unfortunately, not everyone sticks with the absolute letter of the law."
"Disgraceful," said Fred.
"You mean the oath isn't working at all!" cried Ron.
"Oh, it's working alright – presumably anyway," said George. "The magic is in the runes, and not registering a written oath has no effect on that. Registration is simply an official record in case of later disputes." – "Yes, like explaining why somebody's arms and legs suddenly fell off," butted in Fred – "However," George continued, "something very interesting has emerged."
"Which is?" Hermione said eagerly.
"Runic oaths are incredibly difficult and complicated to create so most of them are simply copies of established forms that are customised for the particular requirement. Because of the obscure nature of most of these ancient oaths, using one of them as a template can be risky."
Fred said, "–leading to flaws and–"
"–loopholes," said George. "We've found quite a few that never exactly did what they were supposed to."
"Yes, one seventeenth century monk swore to watch over the Lord of the manor's daughter while he was away," said Fred with a wink and a grin.
"He watched over her alright," continued George, picking up a tatty scrap of old parchment and waggling it about. "But while the oath forced the monk to protect his daughter from other would-be paramours, it failed to include the monk himself and she finished up–"
"–Okay, okay, I get the picture," said Hermione quickly. "So there's a loophole in Daggard's oath?"
"Uuh... well, that we don't know until we see the oath itself," said George.
"But there's a good chance," said Fred.
"That's it?" said Hermione. "That's what you've come up with after three months? A good chance?"
Fred and George looked at each other sheepishly.
"Anyway, you can't," said Hermione. "The oath has been stolen."
Fred seemed to deflate at the thought of all their work being a total waste but George was indignant. "When? Where? How? Why? By whom?"
"By Daggard herself. She took it from Harry's travel chest."
Fred and George looked at one another. George's head swivelled back to face Hermione. "And you didn't think that was a bit odd?"
"Yes, I did. I can't believe she'd think destroying the document would make any difference to the magic, and why would she want to read it again? She already knows what's in it."
George leaned back with a smug expression on his face. "And we thought you were smart..."
"What do you mean?"
"Has it not occurred to you that she doesn't want to read it; she wants to stop others from reading it."
Hermione's mouth opened in a big 'O'.
Ron said, "You think there's...? What?"
"–that there's almost certainly something in the oath she doesn't want anyone else to notice. Until we see it though, we won't know what," said George.
Hermione thanked the twins and left with Ron. As they walked back to the common room, Ron said, "Can you get it back, Hermione? Without the hag knowing?"
"Tricky but possible – though there might be an easier way to learn what was in that oath."
"What's that?"
"Ask the other party to the agreement – and he's right here in this school."
Ron frowned. "Who?"
"James Potter," said Hermione.
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Harry's Loss
Harry Potter slung his towel over a radiator to ensure it would stay fluffy-dry then walked across to enjoy the warm spray of his extended Sunday morning shower before anyone else was up. Using the bathroom was one of the few situations when his hag bodyguard was content to wait outside in the corridor to stop anyone else entering, and it would feel good to be cleansed of her stink for a while. He stepped into the cubicle and stood for a while before soaping himself down then he rotated to let the water wash it all away while he relaxed. As he upturned his face to try to clear his eyes so he could see, he heard a faint whisper...
"Pssst!"
"Aaaagh!" Harry almost slipped over at the sound of a girl's voice in the shower with him.
"It's me, Hermione."
Soap stinging his eyes, he grabbed blindly at the handrail to steady himself, squirming around to face away from her. "Hermione! How long have...?"
"Have I been here? Long enough to notice your towel fell down behind the radiator."
Harry groaned. "Can you get it for me, please?"
"In a minute. Listen, this is important."
As his vision cleared, he groped for the brass water handle and turned it from hot to cold, hoping to diminish his embarrassment.
Hermione said, "Where's your bag? I need to ask James something."
"What!" Harry spun round, his mouth wide and gasping. "No!" He avoided looking at Hermione as he ran past her towards the radiator where he fell to his knees and scrabbled underneath for his towel.
"What do you mean, 'no'? We need to find out what exactly was in the oath."
"Where is it, Hermione!"
"You told me Daggard took it!"
"The towel I mean!"
"Oh, sorry, I've got it here..." Hermione held it out and he backed up to her to take it.
"So where's your bag, Harry?"
"Uuh... It's erm..." Harry hung the towel around his waist, tucked it in and patted it down but it did no good. Reluctantly he turned to face her. He gasped. "You've got all your clothes on!"
Gulping and puffing out her cheeks, Hermione spluttered. "Of course I have. Did you imagine I was naked!"
"Well you were right there in the... oh, you used your spell?"
Hermione rolled her eyes but at that moment the magical sprinkler turned itself off. As the loud hiss ended, an awkward silence remained between the two friends, and she struggled to break it. "Erm... so can you get it for me, please? Your dad's picture?"
"Yes, uuh... I'll find it later."
"Later? We want it now. Look, the twins think there might be a–"
"–Oh, I just remembered, I think I forgot to bring the portraits to Hogwarts with me."
Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "What? I've seen you talking to them more than once!"
"I meant, I er... lost them. Yes. Sorry, I left them somewhere."
Realisation dawned in Hermione's mind. "Oh, no... Daggard's got them, hasn't she?" She shook her head slowly. "Oh well, I'll just have to–"
"NO!"
"Harry, stop this! You can't keep hiding things from me. We're a team, you and I. Look, I know she's threatened to hurt your friends but–"
Harry stiffened for a moment, then his shoulders sagged. His eyes were watering but it wasn't the soap. "She killed my mum, Hermione. She killed her."
"Wha...?" Hermione was dumbstruck.
"That day you escaped Daggard's binding spell. The hag's knife is cursed. She scraped across the enamel of Mum's portrait and it all cracked and broke away in tiny bits. I heard her scream, Hermione. I heard Mum screaming..."
"Why, that vicious, evil..." Hermione reached forward and held him in a big hug. "We'll find a way, Harry. We'll find a way to repair the enamel."
"You know you can't. Magical portraits need the real living person and their knowledge and memories when they're painted. Otherwise anybody could paint anyone and question them, trick them into giving away secrets."
"Luna helped her mother make the Witch Hazel illustration in the Tutomee, remember!" cried Hermione, clutching at the first straw that entered her head. "The picture has knowledge but she was never real!"
Harry looked at her. "And she still isn't, is she? She's still not anybody who was once real. All that history knowledge came from Mrs Lovegood. Mum's gone forever – and that's twice I've lost her."
Hermione knew he was right. "I'm so sorry, Harry."
"And Daggard threatened to kill Dad too. That's why I've been avoiding everyone. She'll do it too. Then I'll have lost them both. I need Dad to learn about him and Mum and you know... sort of connect with them, Hermione. I know he's a portrait but it's not the same as letters and photos. We can talk about when we were family and things they did. The hag will scour that away to dust like she did Mum."
"Oh, that's awful!" Hermione tightened her arms about him. "I hate that foul, evil–"
"But..." Harry tried to brighten his expression because Hermione's eyes were so closely gazing into his, and she looked so sad. "But at least Daggard promised that if I behaved she'd give me back one thing at Christmas, another at Easter, and all the rest at the end of the school year next June."
"WHAT!" – Harry flinched as Hermione shook with fury against him – "That miserable cockroach has got a damned nerve! Who the hell does she think she is, trying to control you with handouts! It's YOUR property!"
"I know. I wish she'd just... go away. Can't you make her... disappear or something?"
"Harry, you can't vanish a person – well, not without enormous power if at all. I doubt I could. I doubt anyone ever has or there'd be people disappearing all over the place! Imagine it! Puff! In the street. Gone without trace. No, you'll learn that in fifth year. A mouse or a lizard can be vanished, maybe even a cat – but not a Kneazle, I shouldn't think... it's to do with magical and physical complexity you see, and it would be horrible to even think about what would happ–"
"She threatened to hurt Ron and Neville too – she knows something bad about Neville – embarrassing I mean, not wicked. She wouldn't say exactly, but I think she read his mind and knows what Daphne Greengrass did to him. She threatened to tell everyone if I didn't do exactly what she told me. And the worst was... she threatened to..."
"What, Harry?"
"Daggard said she'd... do tortures on you. She didn't did she? That day when you were tied up on the floor?"
"Me? I thought those ropes had been used to tie you up!"
Harry gasped. "It wasn't you? Not you? Well, it was definitely a girl about your size with thickish brown hair. I was sure it must be you. I thought you escaped afterwards when she'd gone – while I was dizzying out on the floor." He paused for a few moments, trying to remember. "Well, it was very dark... I suppose it could have been anyone."
"Then who? Nobody's missing except Zabini and it couldn't have been him, surely?"
"No, it was definitely a young girl. What if she was threatened not to tell?"
"Oh, God, the mad bitch has got to be stopped! She's tightening her hold over you, Harry. Look, I'm going to get all your stuff back no matter what."
"You CAN'T Hermione! It's not just about Dad's portrait. She'll hurt Ron. She'll humiliate Nev – you know how nervous he is about girls. And that girl she tied up. What if she's in her power right now? Too scared out of her wits to say anything to anyone? A hostage sacrifice ready and waiting if you or anyone else tries to–"
"Okay, okay, but I'm going to get a copy of the oath from Daggard and see if there's a way to get rid of her sooner rather than later because the way things are going, she'll kill someone anyway."
She released him and stepped away finally.
"You're all wet from off me," said Harry, scrutinising the dampness on the front of her shirt.
"What? Oh yes..." She cast a drying spell on them both. "Pick your towel up before you leave, Harry. It's on the floor again."
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
Well, the chapter before this one about Hermione appealing against Snape 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
Right, 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, one-page comic 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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