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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, and Pettigrew was sighted in Knockturn Alley but escaped. Now read on...

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Chapter 79

Teaching Changes


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The Wretch from Azkaban

Saturday afternoon in Knockturn Alley was always busy especially in the dry weather that Britain was enjoying. Adam Brown ignored the street witches who winked and ogled him as he strode by. He shook a scraggy woman peddler off his arm and a beggar off his leg then with a bell tinkling, pushed inside Nuggetts and closed the door behind him. The shop stank of disinfecting charms and sawdust.

"G'day, mate! What can I do yer for?"

"Just browsing."

"Strewth! I got a bloody ripper for you then..." The man stepped out from behind his counter and strode to a shelf stacked with equipment, some of it twitching. "Bluff Browsers, guaranteed to strike it rich in sedimentary cliffs, headlands, or riverbanks. This one's a beaut, ain't she?"

"I meant... " Adam thought for a moment. "How much?"

"Five."

Adam laboriously fingered coins in the palm of his hand. "Are you Norman himself?"

"Norman by name; Norman by ancestry. But then, ain't we all, mate?"

Adam stirred a couple of Galleons around. "Had a disturbance in here yesterday, I heard?"

"Crikey, yer not wrong! That bugger chundered over me dowsers there!" He pointed at an open crate full of dowsing rods stacked against the counter.

"Pettigrew? Here's four... got some sickles..."

"Yeah, chockers with Poly 'n togged like a sheila. Rubeus sussed him right off soon as 'is face churned. Bloke in a dress 'nuff to make anyone throw his lunch."

"Wonder why he'd risk coming out in the open..."

"He was after a Babyscry. Told him I ain't seen one in years an' he spit his dummy. Ranting like a wanker."

"What's a Babyscry?"

"They're fer scrying ore – just the lite portable o' course. Supposed to predict where even the tiniest of deposits might be. Too specialised fer general use so they're not made anymore. Illegit anyway. Who'd want ter bother with–"

"–Would you say he was agitated, scared even? Because he couldn't get the scryer, I mean?"

Nuggett looked thoughtfully at Adam. "Now yer mention it, yeah. Desperate I'd say – an' that was before 'is juice went walkabout."

Adam handed over the rest of the coins. "Well, thanks, Norman."

"I could throw in a dowser, half-price?"

"Erm... no thanks."

"No worries, mate."

The bell tinkled again as he went out. Adam glanced left and right along the alley then headed back. The peddler shoved a bulging peg bag at him. "Don't need no clothesline, dearie," she cackled through toothless gums. "Hang yer smalls in thin air!" Again she cackled. "I'll 'elp yer gerr'em orf if yer like!"

"See anything yesterday?" said Adam. "Where's the flush drain?"

"Buy some pegs 'n I'll tell yer."

"Don't bother..."

"Fuck yer then."

Adam crouched down amongst the cobbles staring at the cracked gutter.

"I seen 'im." It was the beggar who'd spoken. "All teef 'n snout. The drain's further along. Spare a sickle would yer?"

Adam pulled out a coin and stared at the pathetic man. "Don't I know you?"

The beggar shrunk back into his doorway. "Didn't do it! Didn't..."

"Calm down. I just thought... My God, you're Pilf, aren't you?"

Adam dug out more sickles. "What d'you mean, you didn't do it?"

The man's face was deep-creased with worry – years in Azkaban did that. "Done stuff. Lots of things. Never done Ollivander's though. Never!"

An urgent summons from Aculus interrupted Adam's train of thought. He shook his head in dismay – he'd have to respond. Ministry corruption ruined the lives of many, and Pilf was just another victim. Not that he had much sympathy for the wretch. He threw some sickles down – and the Bluff Browser too – then started running.

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The Masked Warrior

Before Adam materialised, he conjured a dark mask and a robe with Morgana's emerald crest very prominent. Aculus, reveal yourself when I arrive!

I will, Mistress.

Neville had the Slytherin password but daren't go in on his own. Adam didn't bother about niceties. He brushed aside a challenge from a prefect and stormed up to the girl's bedrooms. He could hear Daphne screaming and ran to her. Astounded to visibly behold Morgana's bird form escorted by a crested warrior, the girl fell to her knees and pointed. The door was locked. Adam blasted it open. Draco had Astoria pinned down on her bed. Face livid with a mix of fear and fury, Malfoy rolled off and stretched for the wand sticking out of the robe on a nearby chair. He never reached it. The big man lifted him like a rag and beat him senseless.

Snape's voice could be heard downstairs so Dumbledore was probably back from the inquiry too. Adam dematerialised and both he and Aculus vanished. Adam was in Room 4J only minutes before morphing back as Hermione Granger. She stared at her knuckles; they were a little sore. The beating had been a dark deed but Draco needed to be taught a lesson. Perhaps it would be his last warning before the end.

Both Dumbledore and Snape avoided any further accusations of negligence because they'd both been away from the castle when the intruder attacked Draco. And it was the Ministry itself which had removed them! Lucius was furious of course, but no magic had been used, so Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal Draco back to health in only a few days.

Mr Greengrass had been almost ready to remove both of his girls from Hogwarts, but Astoria was fine, the girls' dormitories were made more secure, and Draco... well, he'd not actually done anything except enter the room of the girl to whom he was legally betrothed and insist on a kiss. The vigilante punishment he'd already received was, according to the Daily Prophet, way out of proportion to the misdemeanour and the DMLE ought to focus on catching the violent and extremely dangerous intruder.

Certainly Draco would keep his distance from Astoria for the time being, but how long would that continue? A month? A year?

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A Trying Time

Ginny punched at the Quaffle thrown by Katie to lob it high over Andrew's head towards Alicia. It came back with some force but Andrew managed to waylay and hug onto it. They were all exhausted but he managed to lift it triumphantly, if not a little dazedly.

"How long are we going to keep this up, Oliver?" grumbled Ginny. "What's it got to do with being a Seeker?"

"Just a warm up. I want to judge all your moves."

"A warm up! I'm about knackered!" moaned Ginny.

"Good. So now we'll see how many of these little buggers you can catch."

He released a boxful of Snitches and Andrew gave chase while Ginny was still off-guard. Furious, she sped upwards.

Thirty minutes later they all landed. Still disgruntled, Ginny reported to Wood who was already speaking animatedly to Andrew.

"Kirke, I'm really encouraged by your progress this year!"

Wood turned as Ginny approached. "How many did you get? I counted eleven."

"Thirteen. Unlucky, I guess?" She handed over a collecting bag.

"What you talking about? I set two dozen free; Andrew here got the other eleven."

"You mean...?"

"I'm making you Seeker with Andrew as substitute when needed. I also want–"

–But whatever Wood was saying was drowned out by Ginny's whoop for joy. She hurtled skyward, punching both fists. The position meant a lot to her.

As she walked back with the others, Andrew fell into step beside her. "Congratulations, Ginny."

"Thanks, you did okay though." She glanced sideways. "Why so cheerful?"

"I'm substitute Chaser as well. So are you."

"What! Hey, Oliver! What's this about?"

"If any of the girls can't play, I'll choose either you or Andrew to sub. Both of you might make decent Chasers."

"So we'll be practising together lots, Ginny," grinned Andrew, "even if I don't get to actually..."

He stopped when Ginny did. The daunting Firebolt over her shoulder, she stared at him. "Get to do what?"

"Nothing." His expression didn't look like nothing. He was all smiles, and not even Ginny's fearsome glare could suppress Andrew's joy.

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Empowered

"Astoria's training is even more important now, especially at close quarters," said Neville as he walked with Harry and Luna towards room 4J in the evening of the 13th. Hermione greeted them from within.

"Come on, Hermione!" said Harry, who was itching with suspense. "You can tell us who your great Slytherin master is now, surely?"

"You'll see," said Hermione, winking at Luna.

The new teacher was not evident at first due to the size of the huge arena, but it was not long before a silvery blue shape could be seen gliding towards them over a distant slope.

"The Bloody Baron!" cried Harry, "are you mental, Hermione?"

Neville's first instinct was to run, but Luna kept a grip on his arm.

"Most impressive," said the Baron as he swept closer, "but where is–"

"–She'll be here," said Hermione, crossing her fingers out of sight. "These are our trainers who will assist you as their time permits." She introduced Harry, Luna, and Neville. "The trainees will be along shortly."

Hermione moved to a rack of equipment and summoned out a small translucent orb the size of a Snitch. "I've spent some time thinking this out," she said as she sent it towards the Baron's wand hand. "It will respond to your movements and invocations to cast simple spells such as stingers, trippers, and, of course, disarming spells. It's really a derivation of our practice mannequins – which you can also control. Obviously it can't do nonverbals but I'm sure a whisper will be fine."

Astonished, the Baron raised a ghostly wand and cast a light way up to the high sky-like ceiling. His jaw dropped. "I can perform true magic! For the first time in a thousand years, I can actually..."

"It will only work in this Room, of course," Hermione added hastily. "It's tied to the Room's magic because, well, we required it, you see. Also any spells that pass through you will be detected by the orb and mark you. You might also find the orb won't let you use it for a while – as if you'd been staggered or temporarily weakened."

The Baron was overjoyed with his new sense of power. Neville and Luna engaged him in a sparring session while Hermione and Harry waited for the others.

Harry held out a large scrap of grey fabric. "Hagrid ripped this off Pettigrew's collar – careful, it's got sick on it!"

"Eww... thanks, Harry." After careful examination she decided the edge of pattern might indicate a blue petal motif. She popped it in a plastic bag and put it in her bag. "Anything else?"

"Only that Wormy came into the shop sweating buckets. What do you think he was scared of?"

"Failure, Harry. I recall a great many Death Eaters suffered the same anxiety. Pettigrew was always a useless hanger-on. Maybe he was on his last warning."

They'd gravitated too close to the door. An icy feeling engulfed them, then moved aside; it was the Grey Lady.

Lady Helena did not speak. Her eyes were only on the Baron who had laid aside his chains to dodge playfully around two children who were giving him a good workout. He was smiling at their efforts. He appeared to be... happy. Swiftly the Grey Lady glided behind a pillar to watch and wait.

The Greengrass sisters arrived, followed shortly by Blaise and Tracey. Astoria and Daphne were astounded but delighted to finally see their teacher was the Bloody Baron himself! Zabini acted cool and pretended he'd already guessed. Tracey Davis was trying not to freak out. Hermione left Harry to it. She had other fish to fry...

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Thief's Compass

The Hogwarts library had only a small section devoted exclusively to magical paraphernalia because equipment was mostly included as part of other subjects such as cauldron types being in the Potions section. She was unable to find any reference to the Babyscry in Paraphernalia so turned to Divination. An hour later she was desperate enough to consider asking Professor Trelawney.

"Need any help?" said a voice in her ear.

"Irma! – uuh... Madam Pince," cried Hermione, "just when I was dozing off with boredom..."

Madam Pince smiled. "Yes, these particular shelves do seem to have that effect. But since you know the future better than anyone, I didn't expect to see you here."

"Only the future that was – unfortunately," said Hermione with a rueful pout. "Wish I'd come to you sooner. I've learned that Pettigrew was after a Babyscry in that incident the other day. Know anything about them?"

"Babyscry... I think that... ah yes." The librarian seemed to have a knack for homing in on the books under her care. "Magical Law Enforcement is what you want... here we are... case histories."

Hermione groaned. The Defence section was one of the largest in the entire library.

"Let's see now... 1985... 1984 – try that index for 'Fletcher' while I go through 1983."

"Mundungus? What did he–"

"–Yes, it's this one. 4th April, 1983. Mundungus Fletcher was caught using a Babyscry to locate a wall safe hidden behind a painting. Idiot! The painting gave the Aurors a perfect description of the thief."

"A Babyscry can do that? I knew they were for predicting very small mineral deposits but it's surprising they can focus on something as tiny as gold jewellery."

"Not just gold. According to this, the safe held a valuable pearl necklace."

"So it can find any mineral? How would that work? The ground's full of all sorts of rocks."

"I suppose the Babyscry can point to whatever type you incant," said Madam Pince.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Might be nothing – but I'll inform Cathesis so Barty has a record of this."

Madam Pince watched her go. Such a small, insignificant girl to be the leader of a global revolution...

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Drifting Away

The bright weather continued into the start of the week. So much so that when they entered the History classroom, Seamus asked Dean to open a couple of windows. But fortunately too late! Binns wafted in through his blackboard and was now so tenuous that Luna was worried he might blow away in the draught from the door. Draco had not yet returned from the hospital wing else he'd have made unpleasant comments. And certainly everyone would have heard him because the ghostly professor was now near-inaudible.

"We need to tell someone," wailed Sally-Anne, who was one of the few who liked History but now couldn't hear the difference between quashing a rebellion quickly and washing a rubidium wick leak.

By Wednesday, McGonagall had informed the Headmaster. By Friday, Binns was little more than a fading memory. Percy and a few other prefects were asked to temporarily cover their own years with textbook lectures. Hermione was asked to improvise tuition using the Tutomees for the Gryffindor and Slytherin third-years. She delighted in taking house points from Draco for 'sniffing', 'not sitting up straight', and 'looking dejected'.

At the weekend, the Headmaster announced that famous historian, Bathilda Bagshot, would be giving History lessons from the following week and 'for the foreseeable future'. A huge buzz of interest stirred the atmosphere in the Great Hall. Hermione Granger clutched her steak knife with white knuckles. The last time she'd seen the old lady she had been no more than a smelly husk of tissues cloaked around the dreadful snake, Nagini.

There'd been indications the woman had become senile before then – but that claim had been delivered four years hence, and from Rita Skeeter, and therefore could be regarded with much scepticism. In any event, Hermione recalled, the great historian had only recently returned from a lengthy research expedition so surely must still have all her faculties? Dumbledore would not have hired her otherwise. But then, in extremis, Dumbledore had once hired the plainly inept fraud, Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Think she might sign my copy of her book?" asked Sally-Anne, excitedly. "Katrin will be like so totally jealous!"

"That's your German penfriend?" said Hermione.

"Yes, we often write to each other about all sorts of things: heraldry, early wand crafting, and uuh..." she lowered her voice to a whisper, "medieval lingerie."

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Introducing Magic

By Sunday, the weather had turned colder. Owls were ruffling up their feathers. The first batch of An Introduction to the World of Magic had arrived from Mrs Lovegood, and McGonagall referred Hermione to Professor Burbage whom she'd assigned to oversee this new activity.

"Good news, Charity," said McGonagall, "we've received a few of the books and Miss Granger is here for her first meeting with you."

"Good morning, Professor Burbage," said Hermione, as she placed the stack of four books on the desk of the Muggle Studies Teacher.

"Before I leave," said McGonagall, "I can confirm that the Headmaster has agreed in principle that informing Muggle-raised children of our world earlier than aged eleven would be beneficial to all, how–"

"–Wonderful!" cried Hermione.

"–However," glared McGonagall, raising her voice over Hermione's interruption, "he is currently only authorising age ten as the–"

"–But Magicals know about magic almost from being babies! It's not fair tha–"

"–Miss Granger, please! The Headmaster is of the fixed opinion that now is not yet the time to try for an earlier age before the Board of Governors or the conservative Wizengamot. By allowing ten-year-olds access to magical knowledge he can do so quietly, without fuss, and pass it off as a temporary educational experiment if anyone notices. Once established and accepted, there may come a time when the age can be decreased, but that time is not now, and I agree with him."

Hermione sighed and nodded as the Deputy Headmistress departed. "As good as I could have hoped for, I suppose."

"This means a lot to you, doesn't it, Miss Granger?" said Burbage.

"Yes, I'm Muggle-born and knew nothing until a few weeks before coming here. Imagine if I were to inform you right now that you had been selected to travel to the Moon? Make sure you buy your star maps and a spacesuit. You're expected on the launchpad on the first of next month? And all the other spacemen have known about this since they were toddlers, but not you?"

Professor Burbage smiled. "Worse if the Earth were perpetually covered in cloud and you didn't even know the Moon existed! I fully sympathise."

She retrieved a parchment from a briefcase. "Well, we can start planning immediately. Professor McGonagall has supplied me with a list of those aged nine to eleven from the Book of Admittance. We can begin with those aged ten to eleven, then the younger ones on their birthdays. She informed me you already have a team of volunteers to support this endeavour?"

She handed the sheet to Hermione who perused it and popped it into her bag, saying, "There are not too many. We can easily handle th–"

"–This illustration is wonderful!" said Burbage, who had opened one of the books. "Everyone in the Muggle world knows Gandalf. Show me how these books work..."

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Domestication

Hermione pushed her finished homework aside. "Harry, we've an hour before dinner, how about–"

"–Yeah, I found some smart leather desks, chairs, even a little sofa."

"Where on earth–"

"–Storeroom. I reckon they'd have been for the staff." Harry grinned at his girlfriend's expression of surprise.

"You stole them?"

"No. I figured since you're a teacher you've the right!"

"Uuh... yes, I guess. Brilliant actually. Come on then, show me what you've got."

Fifteen minutes later they were arranging the furniture in the secret room they'd created.

"Is this carpet okay?" Harry adjusted its position slightly. "Back to back desks, see? I thought they'd go nice under the window so we can study together." He swished his wand. "There. Self-filling inkwells look... then those bookshelves over there..." He opened the toilet door. "I'll clean out the bog another day; I ain't doing it now – oh, the sofa would fit nicely against that end wall..."

Hermione watched in amusement as Harry bustled around arranging the furnishings.

"What?" he said, when he plonked himself down to test out the view from the leather couch and noticed her looking at him.

"Quite domesticated aren't you, Harry? I visualise you with a pipe and slippers. Bottle of brandy and a good book maybe." She closed in...

"Yeah, well, fighting dragons during the day is hard work. I like to put my feet up in the evenings." He reached out for her hand. "Hermione, are you in that picture in your mind?"

"Definitely," she smiled, and sank down beside him. "And we've still got fifteen minutes before dinner in which to use our imaginations."

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Guts and Brains

On Monday morning they had their first lesson with the new History teacher. Despite being short and bowed over with age, Bathilda Bagshot was as solid and wholesome a presence as Binns had been vaporous and noxious. Hermione did not cringe – though she did need to blink back her last memory of the old woman – and, in fact, led a brief clapping of hands in which Sally-Anne eagerly joined along with many others. The Professor showed her surprise in eyes that brightened as much as anyone of less than a century in age.

"Thank you, children." Her voice was even and softened by age, yet conveyed immense strength. "We'll need that enthusiasm to sustain you today because we have to review your past lessons so that I might fill in the gaps. But first, Draco Malfoy will please stand."

It had not been a command yet nothing could fully resist the compelling certainty in that declaration. Malfoy dragged himself slowly from a slouch to a near upright position, reluctance fighting the inevitability of her power. "What?"

"You will address me as Professor. Five points from Slytherin plus another five. If you won't get to your feet when I say, then I'll have you stand on your head for the rest of this class." Nobody doubted that she meant just that.

With a scowl, the boy rose from his chair and waited as Bagshot browsed through a green-labelled student's file she'd taken from a heavily scuffed gladstone bag.

"You're a troublemaker, Malfoy. I don't like you and I never liked your father before you. Give me any excuse and I'll make your life hell. Sit down. Sit up straight. Pay attention."

Malfoy did so. His mouth opened as if he'd intended to speak, though wisely he chose not to. Harry exchanged grins with Ron and Neville.

"Ronald Weasley!"

"Aah!" Ron leapt to his feet.

"Bring me the book you were just reading."

"This...? It's..." He hurried round his desk and forward. "It's just my–"

"–I know what it is. Give it to me."

Reluctantly, Ron handed it over. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Bagshot thumbed backwards through the Tutomee, finally coming to rest on the front illustration of Witch Hazel. The Professor returned Hazel's greeting without blinking an eye.

"Excellent," said Bagshot, handing the book back to Ron and dismissing him with a wave. "I shall continue to evaluate these teaching aids over the coming months. The Deputy Headmistress is considering a bulk purchase directly from the author."

Hermione relaxed; she was beginning to like the Professor now she had guts and a brain.

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

If anyone was wondering how Luna could see Thestrals even though her mother did not die, the answer is she saw the driver in his truck as it was thrown by The Burrow and crashed near Ottery; all those kids saw that. They'll never forget the look of terror on his face as he headed towards certain death.

artemisgirl is super excited to see Hermione outfit Neville in head-to-toe Kevlar for his duel with Draco! Sadly, you cannot dodge a cursed bullet created by a war goddess, and it will pierce anything. Things look really bad for Neville. Maybe Luna will take a bullet for him. Or perhaps Neville will cheat and curse Draco first. But not even Superman is faster than a speeding bullet from hell.

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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