.
So far... The reborn Hermione launched the Cathesis League to fight Dark corruption, and Crest defensive training at Hogwarts where she'll soon begin her third year. After a rushed trial Luna and Neville were sent to Azkaban but are now pardoned, and Fudge's position weakened. Bellatrix is dead. The Weasleys are back from holidaying in Egypt. The long summer of 1993 is over. Now read on...
.
Chapter 76
Failings
.
Bloodied
One empty seat remained, just one, in the window corner of the third carriage from the rear of the Hogwarts Express, as it slowly jolted off on its long journey.
"Quick, Asty, they're not far behind!"
The two Greengrass sisters struggled their travel chests into the compartment and barely managed to squeeze the door shut behind them.
"Permit me, ladies," smiled a dark, handsome youth who was already rising to his feet, wand in hand, and soon the chests were floating up onto the long luggage rack above the seats.
"Thanks, Blaise," gasped Daphne, rather breathlessly, "you're a hero."
"Take my place, then you can sit together." The tall lad reached up and grasped a swinging hand strap. "–No, I'm not standing all the way to Hogwarts," he grinned in response to Daphne's expression. "I'll find a seat later. But first...?"
His hint for an introduction was obvious. Astoria lowered herself nervously into the corner seat with Daphne wedging into the position next to her. "Surely you remember my sister, Astoria? She's starting this year... Asty, this is Blaise Zabini. The Zabinis visited when you were quite small so probably you don't..."
"Pleased ... meet you," Astoria whispered shyly.
"Remarkable likeness – now you've grown," Blaise grinned lecherously, "and both so fair!"
"Watch him, Asty, he's a charmer," cautioned Daphne with a doubtful smile. One never knew whether Zabini was serious or not.
The door slid open again with a bang. Astoria's hair wafted strangely across her cheek and she looked up, startled, then at her sister to see if she'd noticed the contact.
"Careful, Draco," frowned Blaise, lurching round on his hanging strap, "you can see this one's full!"
"Shove off, Zabini, you're a waste of space. Bletch, you owe the Malfoys – I want your seat. Swap with – who are you, again? Lithgow isn't it? Right, Lithgow – GO and uuh... lith somewherth elthe!" He smirked back at Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
"You've got a nerve!" growled Bletchley, but he got to his feet as Lithgow scampered past Draco and his cronies, forgetting his luggage. However, before Draco could move in, Blaise had taken the now empty seat beside Daphne.
Crabbe bunched his knuckles into a fist. Goyle strained to see over his shoulder. Draco drew his wand. "Brain deprived of oxygen, Zabini? Been spending too much time up the Astronomy Tower, have you?"
"Far less than you think," snarled Zabini, his own wand already in hand.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco frowned. "Crabbe, Goyle, escort Zabini to his proper seat."
"Uuh... where's that, Draco?" said Crabbe.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Find somewhere – anywhere – you dullard! Just get him out of here. ... Daphne, move along when Zabini's gone."
Daphne's eyes flared. "Get stuffed, Malfoy!"
Astoria had turned her head away, and her eyes, reflected in the window glass, were shut tight in anguish. She appeared to be whispering a prayer.
"Aagh!" cried Draco. "What'd you do, Zabini! – Aagh!" Draco drew out a silk handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on his twisted lip. "Aaagh!" more specks of blood appeared on his cheek and right earlobe. "Aaaaaagh!" Stabbing pains on the back of his fingers caused him to almost drop his wand.
A faint voice was hissing in his ears. "Eyes, Draco! Watch your eyes!"
He ran. He ran with such evident alarm that Crabbe and Goyle lumbered after him, looking baffled. "It's not over, Zabini!" the blond Slytherin shouted back.
Bletchley looked pleased to close the door after him, then sat down again, muttering under his breath.
"Thanks again, Blaise," said Daphne.
Zabini frowned at his unused wand. What happened? Accidental magic? Astoria was whispering excitedly to her sister but he couldn't quite hear.
"Honestly, Daph, her shadow brushed my face! I called on Morgana's protection and she heard me! Just think, she heard me!"
.
Sweet Journey
Soon, the Express was in its fullest, inexorable trundle through the English countryside on its way north towards the Scottish border. Smoke and steam were scattered but the blustery headwind did not slow the locomotive's progress; an astonished sheep was fended harmlessly aside; not even wet leaves on the track could stop this magical train reaching its destination.
A different compartment door slid open. Ron Weasley looked up hopefully from his seat by the window, then frowned. "Where you been, Harry?"
"With Dean," spluttered Harry through a mouthful of chocolate. "Can't beat Muggle chocolate." He dropped down onto the seat next to Hermione who scowled as the book she was reading almost bounced out of her grasp.
"You could have waited," said Ginny. "The trolley Lady will be here any minute!"
Harry shrugged. "It's not the same."
Olive clung a little tighter to Ron's arm.
Luna and Neville waved at a boy frantically pedalling his bicycle on the parallel road, but the lad was soon left far behind.
On – on – on chuffed the train. A sense of destiny hung in the air. Olive felt Ron brace himself to stand up.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?"
Ron was there first. The Galleons left over from his holiday could not be wasted.
"Don't tell me you scoffed all your Figmentals?" smirked Harry.
Ron was not to be diverted from his quest. "Uuh... three of those and... uumm... eight more of them there – oh, and a couple of those." Ron turned, his arms full. "I told you, Harry, I'm saving the Figmentals for special occasions."
Ginny sniffed. "If you ask me, they're just overpriced Bertie Bott's Every Flav–"
"–NOT, definitely not. Figmental flavours are ALL brilliant. One suck would get you through an entire History lesson."
"So you've actually eaten one?" said Hermione. She looked up as Harry, grinning, nudged her.
Ron's eyes had glazed over and the glutinous mass of half a cauldron cake was revealed in his open mouth. "Yeb. Dab wadd wed I staib in orchard orb daib."
"Translation please, Ginny?" sighed Hermione, reluctantly closing her book as a lost cause.
"He was supposed to be de-gnoming the garden in the morning but at teatime Mum found him lying under a tree in the orchard. His mouth was still fizzing."
Ron finally swallowed. "That was just the sherbet aftershock that helps you resurface."
Luna and Neville were now giggling at their reflections in the window as they rubbed noses.
Harry broke apart his last two squares of chocolate, thought for a moment, then popped both of them in his mouth. "So what's in Figmentals then? Apart from erm... figs?"
"Uuh... well, there's various ones: Lemon Lushers, erm... Sob Limes, and Eggs Whizzit, mmm... Figmenthols if you want to clear Mount Sinai, Glory In Xcheesies sound promising if you like savoury, and my personal favourite so far: Deep Choc Burial – oh, and Sweet Gorge Us!"
"Reparo." Harry, who had only been half-listening, never missed an opportunity to use his wand. The silver paper from his chocolate wrapper de-creased itself to a near-mirror finish. He folded it neatly away in an inner pocket.
"Harry... what on Earth are you doing?" said Hermione. "It's just silver foil!"
"Erm... well, I collect them for my shelf. Got two now."
"But it's..." She shook her head; the attraction wizards found for ordinary Muggle items never ceased to amaze her. She frowned at Luna and Neville who were still rubbing noses and cheeks together. "Neville, did you say Bellatrix really gave you the once over?"
"Had to strip down while she searched me, yes," came the muffled reply.
"Yet she left you your wand?"
"Mmm...? Yeah."
"Padma and Parvati are back, by the way," said Ginny. "Saw them get on at King's Cross."
"Anybody notice if Nott is on the train?" said Hermione.
Luna raised her hand but Hermione couldn't see her expression because Neville's head was in the way. She resigned herself to a journey full of silver paper, open mouthfuls of sweets, and nose-rubbing, then settled back quietly with her head resting on Harry's shoulder.
The wind had died down a little but it was hard to see if any rain was falling again. She listened to the rhythm and clank of the wheels along the track.
"Still thinking about Fudge?" Harry said softly, noticing the change in her mood.
She nodded against him. "Barty Crouch thinks we missed a chance to get him kicked out, but Jop is more cautious."
Her mind drifted back to the very public Wizengamot meeting a week earlier. Jop Gair's influence had scraped a censure motion through, but Hermione knew that wasn't the same as a Muggle vote of no confidence. "The thing is, Fudge's position is weaker, but we have to keep it that way. It's a fine line until we're truly ready to swing the balance of power."
Ginny stretched and stepped to the door, murmuring, "Just gonna see if ... learn anything about ... try-outs..." Her hair fluttered as she slid the door shut behind her. Hermione straightened up; a smart witch always senses her familiar's arrival.
"Poor old Ginny," said Harry – his eyes swept over Ron and Olive's close murmurings, then to Luna and Neville's innocent cuddles – "I think she feels out of it."
"Astoria is safe for now," Aculus whispered in Hermione's ear, "though I had to bloody Draco's nose."
Hermione nodded, then turned to Harry. "Ginny's only twelve, but she's tougher than you think. My money's on Gryffindor for the Quidditch cup."
"Well I'll be cheering her on, for sure, yeah, I'll be cheering for her."
But Hermione... Hermione Granger was wondering just what the year ahead would bring, and whether there'd be any cheer at the end of it. The signs were there... but how to read them?
.
Deep Thoughts
Applause, Golden Plates, and mountains of delicious food greeted the new first-years at the Sorting Banquet. Hermione could see no change at the staff tables except, as expected, for the addition of Hagrid. Quirrell was still Defence teacher, Snape looked as sour as ever, Dumbledore was beaming his grandfatherly best: "Tuck in!"
Only two of the first-years were Muggle-borns, and Crest members: Justin, Hannah, and Dean, had helped introduce them to magic through the summer. Now they were being supported further. It was never enough, felt Hermione, Muggle-raised kids ought to be informed of magic earlier in their lives so they might better prepare.
Hermione's eyes wandered across to the Slytherin tables. Nott was jostled between two others but, brooding, he might as well have been on a lonely moor. Further along, Gemma Farley was also unconnected. She'd grown her hair a little during the summer, and, Hermione noted, her prefect badge was gone. The poor girl – neither coarsely joking as one of the lads, nor chatting intimately with the girls – looked unsure of her place now she'd come of age. Zabini was with the Greengrasses group which included Tracey Davis. Hermione refrained from shaking her head. Ought they to be publicly seen as friends when they'd be secretly training together with...
"Harry, I need you to cover for me after the meal."
Harry's spoon hand hesitated over a tureen of root vegetables. "Sure. The far-reading-room excuse if anyone asks?"
She nodded. "Less than an hour, I hope. I'm not leaving the castle."
Harry stifled his curiosity and dipped into the carrots instead. "Just... just stay safe, Hermione. Alright?"
With a glance to ensure McGonagall wasn't looking their way, she touched his hand lightly. "The only risk is if I'm caught out after curfew. I may be a qualified teacher but I'm still a student too."
There was a clatter from another table as cutlery was flung down. An annoyed-looking Draco was storming out. Hermione could see the facial scratches burning darkly against his pallid complexion. Zabini was laughing with the girls.
Harry grinned. "Nothing's going right for the Malfoys, eh?" He looked suddenly thoughtful. "Reckon he was there that night? He's really worked up about something."
"The ivory tower? He might have been in the manor but I doubt the Black Arc let anyone know anything unless they really need to."
"Meaning Lucretia Black keeps it all to herself? If she really is the leader, that is?"
"No, Harry, I mean imagine the Black Arc as a cast net arcing over its prey. It's not like a spider's web. There is height and breadth but no centre. Control is from above but each part of the grid plays its part independently. There is mostly empty space between each tie and little connects them. Tugs come from above but cannot be returned. There's no remembrance of an individual catch, but hunger for pure blood is satisfied in the long term maintenance of the mesh and the depths of depravity that it trawls."
"Erm... you think too much, Hermione. Have something to eat. Feed your brains."
"Oh, right."
.
A Heavy Burden
As Hermione faded away along the northern corridor, she imagined, perhaps, another figure, far ahead, but there was no moon tonight, and the wall torches were few in this section. Perhaps it was the one she sought? A human would sense a revealing spell wash over them, and she had no wish to alert anyone to her presence. She lowered her wand. Intrigued, she increased her drift and soon reached the foot of a great stone spiral stair up which she quickly began to ascend, shielded by her invisibility, silencing, and anti-scent charms.
When she reached the upper floor of the Astronomy Tower, the other person was partly visible approaching the furthest parapet. The faint silhouette was tall, perhaps a fourth- or even fifth-year boy. A cloth bag he took from within his robes – Hermione clearly saw the straps flicker. And then... the youth was disrobing...
Hermione floated silently nearer. As the clothing was shed and tucked into the bag, the faint lights of Hogsmeade revealed a dark olive sheen to the skin that, with the physique and height, could only be: "ZABINI!"
Instinctively Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth before remembering the boy couldn't detect her in any way. Zabini climbed onto the parapet. His arms were spread like an Olympic diver. He leapt!
"NOOOOOOooooo!" But Hermione stopped short of the edge. There in the outer darkness, rushing through the air towards them like a giant snowy owl, was a pale ghostly spectre. The naked, gleaming Zabini was swallowed up by white feathers, swept swiftly backwards, and vanished over the opposite parapet. His eternal mate, the angelic nymph that was Imogene Dunn, had carried him out and around in a great curve, and was gone before Hermione could react. Less than half a minute had elapsed since her arrival.
Slowly, Hermione released the breath she'd been holding. A love nest in the Forest? Or Hogsmeade?
"One supposes the high-minded Gryffindor shalt denounce this as debauchery!"
Hermione jerked out of her reverie. "Baron! You startled me!"
"Wake yourself! For you were privileged to witness a leap of utmost faith in love that all should envy!"
"–And few will bestow! Slytherin awaits you, Baron! Will you not give something of your endless life to lift those in need?"
"You see what I am!" cried the ghost. "I HAVE NO LIFE TO GIVE!"
"Then give what you have and perhaps you might FIND it!"
But the Bloody Baron had turned away to the shadows, clanking and screeching his burden along the floor with him.
"Baron, I know why you wear those chains," said Hermione.
The eerie clatter stopped. The silvery figure turned. "You know NOTHING!"
"You hug your penance round you like a robe of honour when you should cast that self-inflicted misery aside and truly pay for your offence!"
The glare of those ghostly eyes in that awful mien tested Hermione, yet she held her ground by declaring, "GIVE, not GET, and you shall be rewarded greatly! Dark forces are gathering, Baron; whose side will you take? Or are you simply to stand aside and do naught?"
"Who are you? What is your line?" growled the Baron, inching forward reluctantly.
"I was born of Muggles." – Hermione ignored his snort – "Who I am is not important. There are good Slytherins in need of instruction. Your mastery in combat is unequalled. What do you say?"
"I say LEAVE ME!" snarled the ghost. "Leave me in peace and GO!"
"There is no peace for such a one as you!"
"Then let me suffer..."
He swung away again, wallowing in despair. Hermione played her last card, an ace she did not hold:
"She will be there."
"What? What did you say?" He did not turn round.
"You know of whom I speak. Still bearing the wound you so cruelly inflicted upon her, yet she now plays a part. Why not you?"
There was a long silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was very faint, as if he almost hoped he might not be heard. "Where?"
"Room 4J on the 13th night of this month. Arrive unseen; I know you can, despite your revelling in overt self-mortification."
Hermione did not await his answer, nor did she look back. The daring Gryffindor only hoped that thirteen days would be enough time to prepare...
.
A Changed Routine
Ron stared at his new schedule over a plate of crispy bacon sandwiches. "History first lesson? – They've moved things round a bit this year. George told me that–" He broke off as his eye caught the approach of a Hufflepuff.
Neville also looked up after sploshing a little more milk into his bowl of porridge. "Ernie? Wassup?"
Ernie Macmillan waved his timetable excitedly at no one in particular. "McGonagall's doing. Susan and I suggested it to her last year."
"Suggested what?" said Harry.
"All houses in our year will do double Potions together on Wednesday. You have got Wednesday, haven't you?"
"–Potions on Wednesday?" frowned Hermione, turning to her schedule. "Yes, that's right – but I'm only half ready. Still... what did you say? How can all four houses be in one class?"
"Because with all last year's Gryffindors migrating to your class, Snape was left with only a half-class of Slytherins on Friday. Now, maybe half the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs will join your class, Hermione! That leaves Snape with Slytherins and the remaining Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Balances out, don't you see? McGonagall was delighted because it frees up one period and made it easier for her to work the schedule, especially with the electives this year."
"But who'd come?" said Ron.
"Well, Susan and Hannah are with me for sure. We can join, can't we, Hermione?" Ernie added anxiously. "We liked it in our first year but Sprout and McGonagall stopped us because we'd skipped History."
"Of course you can! Mmm... seats and workbenches are no problem but we'll need more Tutomees and... Luna? Can you ask your mum?"
Luna patted the diary beside her bowl of what looked like incredibly-dense, cream-coloured steam. "Mmm... uumm... uumm..." Heavy vapour was pouring out of her nostrils, like a snorting bull in winter.
"What's she say?" said Hermione.
"Means she can't talk with her mouth full," said Neville, "but yes, she'll do it."
.
Challenging a Wispy Man
Through the blackboard drifted Professor Binns. As soon as he began to speak, Ron opened up his Tutomee and gave all attention instead to the illustration of Witch Hazel's soft whispers. Luxury. While Binns' monotonous drone faded into obscure sound wallpaper, Ron could cheat to his heart's content:
"Now, Ron," Hazel murmured soothingly, "what year were the goblin rebellions under Minister Flack's administration? (Hint: you can sneak a look under 1752 on the next page!)"
"Oh, oh!" whispered Ron gleefully, "was it 1752? He wrote it down and, sure enough had learnt the date before Binns even reached that part of the topic.
Hermione smiled. She knew all this stuff and was helping Harry. Not that he needed it. He'd drawn a moustache on his copy of Witch Hazel, was working on a rude flip cartoon on page 15 through 20, yet was still ahead of Binns on the current lesson.
Crabbe was dozing, leaning back in his chair. Goyle, mouth agape, was drooling. Malfoy glared sideways at Crabbe's snores. Not a good way to start the new school year. Anyone could see he looked irritable.
"In 1752, Minister Flack greatly underestimated the ..." on and on droned Binns. "... goblin race's cunning and ..." zzzz... " ... magic that in some ways is ... superior to that of wizards as demonstrated when ... they allied with the werewolves to overthrow the-"
"WHAT!" A hand was raised.
The dull lecture faltered, then rapidly wound down like a lawnmower during an unexpected power cut, leaving Professor Binns to blink owlishly around, showing surprise that there were actual students in front of him. Harry wondered if the ghost had ever been interrupted before in his entire death.
"Ahem! Where was I...?"
"You were claiming that goblin magic is superior!" It was Draco who had made the outcry, and he looked livid.
"Only in some ways," said Binns, picking up on where he'd reached. "Thank you, yes. When in 1752 they allied with the werewolves to overthrow the–"
"–Professor, you've got that wrong!" Draco was thumbing through his copy of A History of Magic. The whole class had stopped whatever they were doing to listen in amazement. "There's nothing in here about–"
"–Page 805, Mr Melford where it is implied that–"
"–implied? It's downright impossible! Everyone knows the goblins are inferior. I mean, look at them!"
"Look at them? You mean...?"
"Have you ever even seen a goblin?" Draco pulled the ugliest face he could manage and tried to scrunch himself down in his seat. "Think stunted Goyle with pointy teeth."
"I fail to see–"
"–Do you even know ANYTHING you're talking about!"
"I... Mr Malform, facts cannot be questioned when it comes to–"
"–FACTS?" Draco was on his feet now, his normally pallid features flushed, and he was blustering and blowing. "Here's a FACT for you, you mindless bore: do you even know you are DEAD? I mean, has no one ever told you that YOU DIED ages ago?"
For a moment it appeared that Professor Binns had rocked back on his heels, or at least been pushed by a gust of wind. There was an appearance in his eyes of... terrible loss. He seemed quite suddenly to be thinner, fainter. Never did Harry feel more sorry for a person who was not truly all there.
Draco sniggered and slapped Goyle on the side of his head with his hefty textbook. "Come on, let's get out of here and look at a wall. Be a bit more informative than this blasted... cold windbag."
Malfoy strutted off, his scarred lip even more twisted than normal, and slammed the door behind him, ignoring Goyle's yelp.
"What's the Merlin's happened with Draco?" hissed Harry to Hermione. "I've never known him to openly badmouth a teacher before."
"A little bird told me someone bloodied his nose," smiled Hermione. Perhaps the day was not going to be so unrewarding after all. As a first-year, Astoria would not be in any of Draco's classes; at meals, Zabini seemed to be a presence to be reckoned with, yet never a threat to the girls, and in the Slytherin common room? Well little birds can learn passwords as well as summon help, couldn't they?
Crabbe continued to snore, his chair leaning ever more precariously backwards. Hermione's fingers twitched...
CRASH!
.
Gentle Genie On Her Arm
That evening, Hermione sat alone in Room 4J, examining a strange device. The slim band reminded her of the fabric phones of the 2040's, yet long enough to fit the upper arm and not so refined in style. Using the tip of a dry quill as a stylus she tested the charm that enabled the Muggle circuitry to work within Hogwarts. The woven display sprang to life; individual fibres changed colour; digits flowed across warp and weft. Mike's genetic and electronics labs had worked wonders under her instruction to advance a normally tedious procedure. It was wonderful how magic could meld with Muggle processes to enhance and accelerate them. This had to be the future!
She slipped it back into her bag as the door opened. Luna, Neville, and Harry came in.
"Thought we'd get here a bit early," said Harry, "clear the decks, so to speak."
"Go through. I want to speak to Astoria alone when they get here. Don't forget what we said about impressing the Slytherins!" she called after them.
"Oh, yeahhhh!" smirked Harry.
Once they'd passed through into the Room of Requirement, Hermione retrieved the genetic tuner and began priming it, adding the values Mike had listed in his owled message. Satisfied, she put it away once more and clasped her hands on the desk at which she was seated. She did not have long to wait.
"You ought to have come separately!" she said as Zabini and the girls entered.
"We did!" Tracey said breathlessly. "I sprinted round the long way and we just met up in the corridor out here."
"I've come from the library," said Blaise.
"We came together, but that's normal," said Daphne, indicating her sister.
"Okay, so long as you set out at different times from different places. Anyway, Zabini, show the girls in; you know the way. Astoria, I need to speak to you first."
Daphne's expression darkened. "Then I'm staying too."
"Fine." Hermione waited until Blaise and Tracey had entered the Room of Requirement then she summoned a couple of chairs. "Sit beside me, please, Astoria, and roll up your left sleeve."
"Merlin's sake! You don't think she's got the Dark Mark do you!" spluttered Daphne. "That was before she was even born!"
Hermione ignored her, and took out the genetic tuner and a packet of swabs. She cleansed Astoria's arm just above the elbow then wrapped the band securely around. "This will begin sampling the effects of the curse on your line and eventually remove them. It's a very long process: weeks and possibly months."
"Will it hurt?"
"Might itch or sting occasionally but only very slightly. Just ignore it. Don't take it off."
The girls stared as Hermione's quill adjusted the display, turned it off – all but a tiny pulse of light – then covered everything with a large dressing. "Nobody will see that under your sleeve, but if anyone asks, say an owl scratched you badly. The material sheds impurities – that is, it's self-cleaning. Doesn't matter if it gets wet, but if you shower, do not have the water too hot – that's important. In any event, if it gets damaged, I'll be alerted and replace it."
"How will you know?"
"It's being monitored – uuh, that is, watched over – from far away." She didn't even try to explain microwave transmissions.
Astoria's eyes lit up. "It's Morgana isn't it! Oh, Daphne! To think she's watching over me!"
"Er... yes, her shadow anyway," said Hermione.
Daphne looked uncertain. "Far away? I thought she was–"
"–Far and near!" said Hermione. She looked furtively around. "Morgana! Morgana! Give Daphne a sign!"
Nothing. Not for several seconds, and Hermione held her breath. Finally a slight fluttering was heard, then the spectral whisper of Mr Crouch's dead wife's portrait tickled their ears: "Oh, Daphne, Daphne... ye of such little faith. Couldst thou not trust Morgana's shadowy presence here, there, and wherever needed?"
Daphne fell to one knee. "I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry, Morgana! I will try harder!"
"Bless you, child..."
.
Facing Certain Death
"WOW! Just... WOW!" Daphne and Astoria stared at the vast arena they'd entered. Even Hermione blinked. Twice.
Extending before them was a mixed terrain of dips and slopes, earth and stone and planking, loose gravel and slippery mud. Pillars were varied in thickness and spacing to provide both huge open areas as well as cover. The ceiling was luminous blue with clouds descending to form local mists. Strange creatures browsed the foliage to be occasionally startled by a steely training manikin. Harry and Blaise were trading hexes beyond a rickety wooden house. Luna leapt from a window to surprise Tracey with a back-tingling jinx. They laughed!
"Where's...?" Daphne's head swivelled back and forth excitedly.
"Erm... this is just a warm up to prepare you," said Hermione. "The Slytherin master has agreed to begin on the 13th. Don't disappoint him with inferior spell casting! Get stuck in!"
Astoria and Daphne needed no further bidding and soon Hermione and Neville were teaching them improved moves, faster stinging charms, shields and defensive action.
An hour passed before Harry called a halt and everyone slumped onto a grassy slope to wind down. The ceiling darkened to navy. Sparkling stars swept across, chased by dark clouds that gently descended to fog out all but the heavily-breathing eight children. Wands were lit. Satisfied grins gleamed and shone as they chattered.
"Can't believe Gryffindors can be so sneaky!" Zabini was murmuring.
"Can't believe miserable Slytherins could actually have fun!" was the response.
Neville and Luna sighed happily. Daphne's head turned, then she sat up. "Uuh..."
"More? It's getting late," said Neville.
"It's not that, erm..."
"What then?"
Her attention drawn, Hermione began listening in.
"Well?" said Neville. He could see Daphne staring at him through the drifting mist.
"If I tell you something...?" Daphne began hesitantly, then shook her head as if changing her mind.
"This is about the duel, isn't it?" said Hermione wriggling closer across the turf. "Neville's duel with Draco next June?"
Daphne nodded miserably. "Only... you can't tell. Not ever."
"Luna and I share everything but keep it between ourselves," said Neville.
"My lips are sealed too," said Hermione.
Astoria was showing no surprise; evidently she knew what Daphne was about to divulge. The two sisters looked across to the other group: Blaise, Harry, and Tracey – they were too far off to hear whispers and thoroughly involved in their own conversations.
"Very well." Daphne paused, wondering how to begin. "We've not covered famous duels in History yet but–"
"–I know of a few," said Hermione.
"But details of the private ones are kept out of the news and the textbooks. All you read about is names, locations, and the uumm... result; these have to be declared at the Ministry to keep everything legal."
Hermione struggled to remember anything relevant, then shook her head.
"There have been three serious Malfoy family duels over the last two hundred years," said Daphne. "All were private. All ended in..."
At her hesitation, Neville gulped. "Don't tell me the Malfoys won all three? Not...?"
"Yes, all three of their opponents were killed. ... Instantly."
He pondered that for a few moments, then... "P'uh! Number Four will be different. Draco's no master; he's pathetic."
"You don't understand," said Daphne. "Draco will kill you. You should release him from his family's obligation to you."
"NEVER!" glared Neville, lifting himself up into a sitting position. Harry was looking across. Blaise and Tracey followed his eyeline. Luna pushed Neville back down. "Hush..." Curiosity satisfied, Harry again engaged those with him in their own chatter.
"You must back down, Neville!" hissed Daphne, "or you'll be throwing your life away. Draco has... something."
"What? A poncy pose? An arrogant strut? A sneer? Is he going to sneer me to death?"
"It's a weapon."
"What? How can–?"
"–The ancient rules of inter-family duelling do not specify a wand. They're not even written in English but in Ancient Coptic which still included glyphs. These only signify pointing with a magical focus such as a staff or spear. You do know the original magics arose in several locations around the world? Wand magic was mainly derived from the spirit stick used in some forms of Neolithic shamanism. It was thrust towards or even hurled at the threat."
"So Draco will throw a cursed bottle out his pram?" smiled Neville.
"Don't get over-confident, Neville," cautioned Hermione. "Listen to what Daphne is saying."
"How would she know?" He turned to Daphne. "How'd you know any of this? Everybody's aware that the Malfoys spread stories."
Daphne looked away.
A suspicion niggled its way through Hermione's mind. "Aah... A Greengrass was one of the three victims – weren't they?"
Daphne nodded. The mist seemed then to thicken round her like a shroud. Astoria put an arm across her sister's shoulder, and they both shuddered. "A cousin of our grandmother's. Family honour forbids me from saying more."
"Daphne, you have to–"
"–Just look at the history! Three Malfoy duels. Three kills! Isn't that enough!"
"You're allied with the Longbottoms now, Daphne!" said Hermione. "Honour demands the Greengrass family assist Neville in these matters if required."
There was a prolonged silence during which the only sound was the faintest of whispers between Daphne and Astoria. Finally, Daphne relented. "It's a... gun."
"A what?" said Neville.
"A Muggle pistol."
Neville laughed. "Is that all you're worried about? A stupid Muggle pipe? Didn't shepherds whistle their dogs with them?"
"It's a duelling pistol, Neville! A lethal weapon! It cannot be blocked or summoned. Its cursed ball will find you with certainty faster than your spell even reaches Draco. No one can survive it in an official duel."
Hermione pulled an anxious face. "It won't work in a... street fight or–?"
"–No. One of Malfoy's ancestors invoked Anath the war goddess to protect him during a Muggle duel in which he'd become drunkenly involved. He was granted the pistol, won the fight, but forfeit his soul to endless battle in the underworld. The weapon remained as an heirloom that has safeguarded the Malfoys ever since. It is unbeatable. Now will you yield, Neville?"
Neville's face had turned pale. "I cannot."
Hermione said, "Neville I can–"
"–No, Hermione. Thank you, but no outsider can intrude upon an oath of Duellum. I... I'll practise. I'll train... I think I might at least take Draco down with me. He will not dodge my first barrage. Yes. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll take the slimebag lowlife with me into hell!" But Neville's face was white and adrenaline was speaking for him.
Luna had said nothing. She would stand where her heart lay.
.
—oOo—
.
Author's Notes
Clive54 proposed that instead of Hermione having to carry out an execution for those inmates of Devil's Deep who choose it, a more acceptable method might be them passing voluntarily through a 'Veil'. I like the suggestion and might use something similar if the occasion arises. Don't know yet if any will prefer it rather than a life sentence with no chance of remission.
Originally, my idea of choices: execution, simulated Azkaban (using Hermione's captive Dementor) or a life sentence, was only to emphasise to convicted criminals how fortunate they were to have a warm, dry, clean, well-lit, spacious cell with sleeping and exercise areas together with an infinite interactive book to occupy their mind. Many people in the real world are not that well off but have to work hard all day and worry about paying the rent etc.!
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
.
