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So far... The reborn Hermione launched the Cathesis League to fight Dark corruption, and Crest defensive training at Hogwarts where she and her friends are now in their third year. But one of the Slytherins they began training, Gemma Farley, has been found dead. Now read on...
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Chapter 78
Mourning Forward
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Too Much
"I can't believe Snape made Bole and Bletchley prefects!" Neville growled after listening to Ron's account of how he'd been dragged into the Great Hall.
Ron stared at the soggy bacon before him, vaguely aware of the hushed mutterings all around him. Nobody was eating. Dumbledore was still on his feet talking to members of staff. Finally, he cleared his throat.
"I regret that it was necessary to search the private belongings of students. However, thanks to information received," – Harry cringed, feeling a tinge of guilt – "Mr Filch quickly discovered a garment whose sleeve was stained with a particularly vile potion that had been stolen from his confiscated–"
–Hermione stiffened, trying hard not to reveal any reaction to Dumbledore's scrutiny.
Harry hissed sideways out of the corner of his mouth, "What?"
"It can only be..."
He looked at her then. Hermione's face showed deep distress. "Poor Gemma..." she murmured.
"What was it?" said Harry.
"Don't you remember? That day in Filch's office when we were searching for the Marauder's Map – no, you were too young."
"–Course I remember!"
"In the drawer marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous?"
"The walking stick?"
Hermione groaned. "No, Harry, there was a bottle of Amortentia Concentrate."
Harry frowned. "I think I do remember. You said it makes you hot – well, warms you up if you're cold."
Hermione groaned again and her voice fell to its lowest whisper. "More than that, Harry. It's a highly concentrated essence used by apothecaries to produce... love potion. It was never intended for direct human consumption. Its viscosity makes it essentially a... lust potion."
Harry looked down at his uneaten toast and winced his eyes tight shut. He did not want to hear any more.
But Hermione continued in the same breathy voice in his ear. "If Nott used that on Gemma she would... well, uncontrollably convulse with... uuh... desires for a long... well it wouldn't be quick. She'd... her metabolism would effectively... burn out. The overdose killed her Harry, and Nott took advantage!"
Harry wished he could cover his ears without being noticed. "What about him though? Did Nott drink it as well?"
"He could only have risked a few drops. There was a whole vial, remember? What if he gave her the rest?"
Tortuous, extravagant images were racing through Harry's mind. All he could see was the Gemma of the previous night, tightly clothed without Luna's robe and thrashing about in unbearable– "Till she died of it? ... I hope they put him in Azkaban forever! FOREVER!"
Heads turned in his direction. Harry pushed away his toast, feeling sick.
Hermione wanted to say she didn't think anyone deserved Azkaban, but she kept her mouth tightly closed; maybe she was wrong this time.
The approach of post owls was a welcome distraction. The tone of the murmurings around the Great Hall changed. The atmosphere was still sombre, but less choked. A couple of Potion Tutomees had arrived from Pandora Lovegood with a note there'd be more to come. After greeting the Wizard of Oz illustration, Hermione put the books away in her bag and looked up. Oliver Wood was stood talking to the twins and glancing vaguely in her direction. He walked down, then stopped beside Ginny.
"We're postponing the try-outs till tomorrow. I never liked Farley much but still... wouldn't be right."
Ginny nodded, after Dumbledore's announcement all interest in Quidditch had fled and her earlier excitement evaporated, leaving only the emptiness one feels when reminded too abruptly of one's own mortality.
By contrast, Farrimond brought a jubilant message from Hermione's dad that Wheelie bins were being phased out and replaced by self-cleaning, stay-bright 'Disposers' you could stand anywhere in your yard and dump in waste without wheeling it back forth to the road. Funny thing was, he added, nobody in their street had yet spotted how they were being collected and emptied! Furthermore, Council tax was being reduced not increased due to 'massive advances in sorting and disposal technology' which, apparently, was top secret. Mrs Jenkins worries that it's atomic and ought to have a warning sticker. She pokes trash in with a clothes prop! he added.
Hermione managed a wan smile; nothing seemed very funny this morning. She put away her dad's letter and looked around.
A confused owl was circling high over the Slytherin table. Luna stood up and raised her wand which immediately caught the bird's attention. She pushed her wand to the right ... then to the left. The owl moved to follow her directions, hovering expectantly. Finally she sat down, murmuring, Birdies to herself. Disappointed, the owl departed.
Hermione nudged Neville, showing him a puzzled frown and gesturing. He turned to Luna. "What is it, Princess?"
"That's how he signalled," Luna said softly.
"Who?"
"Theo. He waved his butterfly net and his owl moved across the sky so they could see to adjust their aim with the flying lorries. Perhaps they thought Harry was inside The Burrow. It's despicable to use a poor animal to murder someone don't you think?" Luna's face was anguished, but whether for the owl, the intended occupants of The Burrow, or for Gemma, neither Hermione nor Neville were sure.
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Mission Impossible
"Slytherins! Bloody Slytherins," grumbled Ginny as the seven friends walked out to the lake to enjoy the change in the weather. They knew it wouldn't last.
"They're not all bad," said Ron, thinking back to Draco's treatment of Gemma at the Gates of Life. "She'd changed."
Luna began sniffling again as Ron continued, "Whatever uuh... upbringing scared Gemma to be acting boyish, she really was coming out of it as she grew uumm... you know ... shape and that ... and starting to appreciate she was becoming erm... quite attractive, right?"
Harry nodded. "She was mixed up and vulnerable – tricked into joining the Black Arc." He glanced at Hermione's expression and said no more. The others didn't need to hear how Macnair had seduced the confused girl previously. "She was nice all during last night's training." He rubbed his left arm where he'd been hit by Farley's stingers several times. "And Tracey's fine. Blaise isn't bad either when you get to know him better."
"And the Greengrass girls," said Neville, putting an arm around Luna's shoulders to comfort her.
"Which reminds me..." Hermione stood apart as the group were making themselves comfortable on the grass beside the waters, then drew Luna aside to stand under the boughs of the great beech tree. "You get on well with Lady Helena, don't you? The Ghost of Ravenclaw?"
Luna was still wiping her eyes as she shook her head. "You mean the Grey Lady, don't you? I've only seen her gliding about. She looks very soft and sad."
"Exactly. Perhaps you can help the poor thing, but I don't want the others to know yet in case it doesn't work out."
Luna brightened up immediately and began bouncing up and down on her heels. "Like a secret mission?"
"That's right. It requires delicacy, diplomacy, and uuh... finesse."
"You failed, didn't you?" said Luna, astutely.
"Gee thanks," said Hermione. "Yes, I found it impossible to persuade her. That's where you come in."
She began whispering in Luna's ear. Not that she had much choice because, quivering with excitement, the quirky girl had pulled back her straggly blonde hair and pushed the side of her head to Hermione's lips...
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Whirling and Weaving
Finding the Ghost of Ravenclaw took Luna much longer than it had taken Hermione. There were so many interesting artifacts arrayed on the stair walls leading up the Tower: patterned shields, colourfully-woven tapestries, and friendly, intelligent paintings to talk with. Then there were the views! At every window she gazed out upon the trees below or the varying blueness of the sky above. The higher she climbed, the more grand the vistas! And so the best part of an hour passed before the scatty girl was leaning out of a casement in the passage Hermione had recommended as a starting point for her search.
A faint seething hiss reached her ears from far down the passageway. "Why doest thou come? Miss Granger sent you, did she not? You waste my time; I shalt not bend to thine persuasions."
"Oh, I'm so glad! I was afraid you'd changed your mind and– oh, look! Over the Forest there! There are two Thestrals circling each other. Isn't it wonderful how they mate?"
"Then why be here!"
"To give warning just in case. ... Merlin! You don't have any Omnioculars on you, do you? No, of course not. Oh, I just have to see them more closely! They spar first then slowly become submissive and drift down below the treeline for modesty's sake."
"Come back! Of what did you wish to warn me?"
Luna slowed to a halt and looked back, puzzled. "About...? Oh, yes, whatever you do, don't come! Goodbye!"
"Stop! Explain thyself, child!"
Again Luna turned around. "I thought Hermione had informed you? She told me to ask you to come but I don't think you should. The Baron would feel very uncomfortable, perhaps humiliated, to have your critical eye upon him. That would be cruel, don't you think?"
"The Baron deserves to suffer!"
"Surely you don't mean that? He's giving of his time to help others instead of groaning and moaning and clanking about up in the Astronomy Tower. He'll suffer even more now and I think that's enough without you adding to his misery. Please don't come; it would heap unbearable anguish and shame upon him – perhaps more than he can survive. The burden could crush him."
"What is that to me! The hothead should be taught a lesson."
"He does get angry, doesn't he? But he is constant too. I can scarcely imagine what it must be like to love and adore someone for a thousand years despite your regarding him with such disfavour!"
"But..."
"Don't worry! I'll tell him for you. He'll huff and puff and pretend to be glad but his shoulders will sag with disappointment and silvery tears will flow – but you and I know that will be a double bluff, don't we! Behind all that his sigh will more truly indicate relief. While occupied with aiding those poor children, he'll not be distracted from his torments and obsessive devotion to you. Goodbye, Lady in Grey!"
Luna scampered away as fast as she could and soon disappeared.
"But..."
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Chasing
While Luna had been window-gazing, the Headmaster had called Deputy Headmistress McGonagall to his office. Snape, as Head of Slytherin House was summoned too. Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had arrived along with the Chairman of Hogwarts Board of Governors: Lucius Malfoy. A death – probably a deliberate murder – at the school was not to be taken lightly.
Hermione was torn between eavesdropping on the meeting and Harry tugging on her sleeve as they sat with the other beside the lake.
"With McGonagall out of the way, we won't get a better chance to search together," he insisted.
She relented. There was little she could do to support Dumbledore anyway; he was, after all, ultimately responsible for allowing dangerous substances to be kept by Filch. And I must share some of that guilt, she realised. If only I'd disposed of that vial, then Gemma would be alive today and–
"–Hermione?"
"Okay, let's go over the second floor again."
Ron, who was slouching on one elbow, smirked up at Olive as they watched them leave the lakeside. Ginny threw a stone into the water.
"Who's this?" said Neville, trying to squint around the departing couple. He'd seen a figure emerge from the castle and had been hoping it might be Luna returning. No such luck; the slight form was only a second-year boy, probably Colin. He went back to contemplating the Thestrals wheeling over the trees.
"What d'you want, Kirke?" called Ginny, another small rock held firmly in her hand ready.
"Oh, erm..." The boy waited until he was nearer before continuing. "What happened to the try-outs?"
"Didn't you hear? Wood's put 'em back till tomorrow morning."
"Oh."
Ron said, "You're wasting your time anyway, Kirke; Ginny'll run rings round you. And you're too skinny to be anything but a Seeker."
"Yeah, I guess so." His tone was quite forlorn, but he didn't turn away immediately.
"Well?" said Ginny.
"Uuh... nothing." Kirke feigned interest in the lake for a while.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, sit down, Andrew!" Ginny threw the pebble and there was a large plonk-splash. "You're not that bad," she added. "Fred and George think so as well."
He flopped down awkwardly at her side, not looking directly at her or any of them. "Well, wouldn't you prefer to score goals, Gin– uumm... Ginny? You're agile enough to be a Chaser."
"You wish! Anyway, Wood's got three Chasers already."
"You're better than–! Uuh... probably be better than Katie at any rate."
"Been watching me, have you?"
"Oy!" said Ron, struggling to sit up. Olive pushed him back down with a smile.
"Ron, be glad he's not Bole," said Ginny, "or wotsisname..."
"Bletchley. Yeah, well... just watch it with my sister, Kirke. Find someone in your own year. Like erm... Colin." He started giggling and Olive swatted his arm.
"I'm older than Ginny!" protested Kirke.
Ron did jerk upright then. "How would you know that? Been sizing her up, have you?"
"Uuh... erm... someone must have mentioned it. I needed to find out what chance I'd got – on the team, I mean!" Flush-faced, he stumbled up to his feet and began trudging back to the castle.
Ginny stared after the boy like she'd never really looked at him before. Thinking back, he'd only started hanging around the Quidditch pitch after she'd begun practising. Her expression softened and she called after him, "Who's been training you in Crest?" But he was far enough away he could pretend not to hear.
"Me and Luna trained him, mostly," said Neville. He was peering at the distant northern tower which became just visible around the eastern parapet when he leaned that way. Was someone waving at him or... he turned back to watch the Thestrals. "Andrew's okay for a second-year, but not much power. Dodges okay. And he's correct about his age – even a bit older than Luna because she asked him. Yeah, his birthday's around Christmas week because they were talking about him only getting one lot of presents."
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Making Room
"I'm not taking over another unused classroom and I'm not snogging in a ruddy storeroom either," pouted Hermione. "I want a nice room where we can sit for an hour together – just us – and chat and read and even do homework in peace and quiet."
"And snog," added Harry grimly. "That rules out the whole of this floor, Hermione, and is there any point in searching the third again?"
"We'll go through it then up to the fourth – but that's too close to Crest for my liking. I don't want us to be... noticed." She stared thoughtfully at Harry for a few moments. "Let's check out that tiny bathroom again."
Harry groaned but followed her to the nearest spiral stair. "Do we have to?"
She was standing at the top when he caught up with her. He looked around "Well?"
"You've forgotten already?"
"Mmm... oh, yeah, this is that... it really is not very noticeable is it?" He sidestepped around the large protruding buttress and gazed towards the bricked-up door at the far end of the small passage. "You're thinking of making a magic room beyond that, aren't you?"
"No, Harry, that's the Victorian stairwell; the spell would be quite tricky to superimpose a magical room with students running through it on the steps."
"What then?"
"The passage itself. There's one window but it's not overlooked from outside. Remember those stone blocks at Azkaban you Gemino'd, Harry? To form a barricade to keep out the Dementors? Do the same at the mouth of this passage using worn old blocks from that buttress. Nobody would even know there's space behind it forming a new room."
Harry hesitated. "My conjured blocks won't last, Hermione."
"I'll strengthen them when you're done then renew it every few months as needed."
"Okay," He made a copy of several blocks together then hovered them into position, "but you'll need to make the door."
"Door? We don't need doors where we're going, Marty."
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Prospects
A joyless atmosphere pervaded the Great Hall at lunchtime. The staff tables were subdued and missing the Headmaster, his Deputy, and his Potions Master. There were rumours of suspension, even dismissal. But who to fill their places? Such exchanges were reduced to faintly echoing murmurs and rustling. Even the Weasley twins' were silent. Not a snigger was heard from the Slytherin quarter now one of their own had committed a foul atrocity within its own ranks. Even Filch's grumbles were mere murmurs of disappointment as he turned back from his long walk to complain to the Headmaster – only to discover the empty chair. And the seven were reduced to five.
"Where ... Luna?" Hermione mouthed silently.
"Forest ... Neville," Ginny uttered in very terse breaths. "Mating ... Thestrals."
"What! ... Oh, right..." Someone else was missing, and for a while, Hermione couldn't think who it was. "Hagrid... where's Hagrid?"
"Teaches 'Magical Creatures' now, remember?" whispered Harry.
"Not Saturday lunchtime he doesn't!" hissed Hermione.
"I meant ... could be in ... Forest ... gathering specimens for next week.."
But Hagrid had still not returned by mid-afternoon, nor had Dumbledore and Snape, however there was talk that McGonagall was back, hurriedly catching up on paperwork and dashing back and forth between her own office and the Headmaster's.
"She's moving in there?" asked Hermione "She's taking over as Headmistress?"
Nobody seemed to know. Luna and Neville reported they'd seen movement in Hagrid's cabin so hopefully, he had returned safely from the Forest or wherever he'd been.
The mystery was resolved an hour later when a special edition of the Daily Prophet arrived. Hermione practically snatched her copy from the poor owl before it had even landed. Her eyes opened wide at the headline:
RAT FLEES LAW ANEW!
Former Death Eater Peter Pettigrew was spotted in Knockturn Alley yesterday. Eye witnesses reported seeing him hurrying out of Nuggett's Nifflers chased by Hogwarts Professor Rubeus Hagrid. "Almos' 'ad him by 'is scruff when 'e sudden ratted down a flush drain!" growled the half-giant incoherently. Pettigrew, a known Animagus with the form of a rat, is wanted by the DMLE for the betrayal of Aurors James and Lily Potter to You-know-who.
Sensing Harry's eyes staring sideways, she pushed the newspaper between them on the tabletop.
"So close. Hagrid's not the nimblest," he grumbled.
"Not if he'd been getting Nifflers for his next class," said Ron. "Probably been stuffing 'em in his pockets; you know what he's like."
"Question is," mused Hermione thoughtfully, "can the Black Arc be so short of funds they need to buy Nifflers to scavenge for valuables?"
"Ah, but that's not all they sell at Nuggetts." Fred and George had wandered over for a free read of the latest news. George was chomping on a sausage. "The shop's not called Norman Nuggett's Nifflers & Necessaries, for nothing."
"What d'you mean?" said Harry. "What else do they sell?"
"Well, there's honeyguides, shovelnoses, Dowsing rods, pan-swirlers, all sorts of prospecting charms and mining magic, then there's dust-diviners, silver–"
"–dust-diviners?" scoffed Ron. "You just made that up!"
"Gold dust, you prat," said George, waggling his sausage in Ron's face. "Scouts out areas where there's gold particles right there in the dirt."
"The mystery is," added Fred, "why would a rat like Pettigrew want to go digging for gold? You'd think sewer sludge would be more his thing."
Hermione's eyes scanned the staff tables once more before focusing on Harry, moving in close to whisper, "After breakfast, would you mind visiting Hagrid to see if you can find out anything more? Maybe take Luna with you – she might be happy to play with the Nifflers and possibly trick something out of him nobody else could?" – he nodded – "Then, if I'm not back, start gathering furnishings and books for our room, anything you can think of."
"Right. Where are you off to?"
"Me? I'm going shopping..."
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
Hermione is growing up but still trying to keep a low profile while encouraging Harry into the leadership at which she knows he will be so successful. A guest reviewer, Fast Frank, points out that the great orator Winston Churchill had a lisp into his twenties. And he wasn't faking it like Hermione was!
fridelain points out that Hermione is foolish not to extract maximum information from the prisoners in Devil's Deep. Way I see it is, despite the horrors she has seen, Hermione still regards forced Legilimens as a violation and she needs to be pushed to perform it, especially since she is convinced Black Arc members know almost nothing of others in the gang nor their activities (and are often Obliviated as to their own previous actions!) Another factor is she wishes to move slowly; the disappearance of dozens of those associated with the group would be noticed and her attempts to infiltrate and sway the Wizengamot compromised. It's not a perfect plot idea but best I could do to avoid outright war.
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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