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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. She saves Astoria Greengrass from Draco's advances and recruits the Bloody Baron to teach a few select Slytherins in Defence. In History class, Binns has been replaced by Bagshot. Now read on...
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Chapter 80
Clouded Progress
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No Answers
Despite being rescued, Astoria Greengrass was often in low spirits after the incident with Draco. She'd had a reminder of what lay in store for her once she was forcibly married to a Malfoy. Being frail placed her at an additional disadvantage.
Hermione had received no message from Mike's laboratory so she wasn't too concerned about Astoria's health monitoring, but nonetheless, at their next practice session, she checked the girl's armband.
"It's not working, is it?" sighed the young Slytherin.
"Did Draco see it?"
Astoria shook her head. "I refused to kiss him so he was trying to hold my face still. I was too scared even to bite him."
"The armband's fine," said Hermione, after replacing the dressing. "Don't be discouraged; it's mainly been analysing and testing so far. In a few months you should begin to feel stronger."
Astoria's older sister glared at Hermione. "But what about Draco!" Her eyes blinked as a shield spell flashed blue: Neville was guiding Blaise who was struggling to fight the Baron. Daphne shook her head. "A shield spell won't be of any use against the Malfoys' duelling pistol. In an official duel, their gun is more deadly than the killing curse."
Hermione tried not to sigh. She had no answers. Neville would face death without hope, and Astoria could not escape Draco either, once they'd married. "Barbaric!" she muttered under her breath, and "Medieval!" as she strode off, calling back over her shoulder, "In a few years you'll gain more power and skills, Astoria. Until then, Morgana will continue to watch over you."
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Mixed Feelings
The next week, Theo Nott was brought to trial. The Ministry Aurors had long since given up searching for his father. With no one in the boy's corner to defend him, and the damning evidence of the potion-soaked shirt cuff, there could be only one outcome. The testimony of the boy who lived was read out: Nott and Farley had definitely been together on the night in question. The atrocity was still vivid in the minds of the Wizengamot, and in the gallery sat Gemma's father, a clearly broken man. He sobbed when Nott was condemned to die in Azkaban; no retribution, however terrible, could bring back to him his beloved child. If he'd hoped for closure, this bitter realisation left him with nothing but an open wound in his heart.
At breakfast the next day, Hermione laid down the Daily Prophet. A chapter had finished with no possibility of a happy ending. Harry looked troubled about the part he'd played. The newspaper had lauded him as a hero for permitting Gemma to be including in his self-help club, but the account had left an unpleasant taste in the boy's mind. Both Gemma and Theo were now beyond anyone's help.
Luna was upset. She'd only trained with Theo that one session but somehow could not reconcile his personality with the certainty that he'd aided in the deaths of those truck drivers. "What if the Black Arc made him attack Gemma for abandoning them and joining us?"
"His father's dead, remember?" said Hermione. "I'd have thought that was his only link with them."
Neville said, "We can't be sure that's how they work. Anyway, there has to be justice for what he did."
"No one, but especially no child, deserves the miserable agony of the continual presence of Dementors," murmured Hermione.
Nobody spoke for a while.
"We could rescue him," Harry whispered abruptly, startling the others. "He wouldn't suffer so much in Devil's Deep."
"That thought crossed my mind too," said Hermione. "But how would Gemma's father feel when Nott's escape from Azkaban was reported? We couldn't disguise that forever."
"What if we–?"
"–We can't tell him about Devil's Deep, Harry!"
"No, I suppose not."
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Success and Failure
In October, Ginny played her first Quidditch match, but failed to catch the Snitch. Annoyed, her feet dragged as the team returned to the changing rooms, even though the rest of the team were cheerily celebrating.
"We had a win, and that's what matters," said Oliver, trying to bolster her self-confidence.
"Scraped in by a few points," pointed out Ginny, morosely, "against the stinkin' Hufflepuffs."
"Diggory's a great seeker," butted in Andrew, then, on seeing Ginny's expression, added, "but not as good as you of course."
"So how come I lost?"
"The team WON, Ginny!" cried Oliver. "There's always an element of luck with Seeking so don't–"
"–Yeah, the Snitch just happened to show at the far end from you," said Andrew. "Could happen to anybody."
"Yeah, well it happened to me."
"Cheer up, think of all the Snitches you will catch in the future," said Andrew.
"That's the spirit!" said Oliver. "Focus on the next game, the next practice session."
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Defence Mechanism
At the end of the month Halloween fell on a Sunday. In the afternoon, Harry and Hermione met with Irma Pince and Disapparated together to the Worthing residence for a Cathesis meeting.
"Excellent progress!" chortled Mike. "Word is spreading in the higher Muggle corridors of power that there's a new secret technology. That's all most of them know but they accept if something is what they call 'classified' then they don't question it. Their intelligence services informed their military of new defence mechanisms. What their armed forces don't know is the magic within. And our own Ministry is completely in the dark because the magic is hidden within layers of Muggle technology beyond their comprehension."
"I don't like their military getting involved," said Vera. "We've seen–"
"–But that's the beauty of it!" cried Mike. "No one in their armies has a clue how it works so they can't modify it to attack or harm anyone."
"How does it work then, Mike?" said Vera.
"Well, it's still in the design and prototype testing phase but essentially a wall of vanishing spells will appear to 'vaporise' incoming weaponry such as bombs and rockets. Our people have found a way to stack custom vanishing charms in such a way that they can be released all at once to discharge tremendous energy, and with extensive range."
"Like thunder and lightning," said Hermione. "And flash photography."
"How do they work?" said Sirius.
"Never mind. Go on, Mike."
"The 'Vaporisers' as we call them are triggered by detection spells which can react to the smallest type of offensive weapon. Muggles have uumm... 'tanks' which are like big heavy cars with long guns – those are the things that shoot erm... things at people, remember? We tested this on an old armoured car with two volunteers inside. The car vanished and the men tumbled out. Even their handguns disappeared."
"And they weren't harmed?" said Vera.
"Well, erm... one had a broken leg and the other was badly scraped and bruised – but that was because the vehicle was travelling at over fifty miles an hour! The thing is, the enemy do it to themselves once they understand what our barriers do."
"How long before this is all set up as a complete national defence system?" said Hermione.
"Aah, well, a few years yet. We've still to get this approved by their prime minister, and more refined mechanisms need designing. Then there's advanced prototype production, more testing..."
"Okay. Well, good work, Mike," said Hermione. "Any of this yet filtering through to our British allies?"
"No – well they're taking notice that something is going on but they don't know what. Once the network is predominantly in place I believe the British have to share because of international agreements. It's not Muggle exports I'm worried about but sooner or later a magical here or abroad will become suspicious. But if it comes back on us we can argue we're not infringing the International Statute of Secrecy because the magic is hidden within the machines."
"That's the hope," said Hermione.
"Yeah, that the hope."
"Still, I never thought things would move this quickly," smiled Hermione. "We're ahead of schedule. This is the first real sign of hope for the world – for true World Peace. That's worth a toast."
"To World Peace!" Everyone raised their glass – and they raised them to one person: Hermione Granger.
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Figuring Things Out
Back at Hogwarts that evening, Hermione was tense. Halloween had a tendency to produce unpleasant surprises to the unwary. But the feast went well, and shortly after, the eight gathered together for an extra celebration in the Room of Requirement set out like a small tavern with Dobby serving behind the bar. Butterbeer and snacks had been smuggled in, and other goodies from the kitchens.
"So, you're saying the Muggles can stop any attack from other countries?" said Ron, trying to understand.
"Not quite yet, but in time, it will happen. The first giant step has been taken to prevent the bloodshed that happened before in my lifetime," said Hermione.
"And our own Ministry don't know?"
"No. We're hoping this is the year we push for an edge in the Wizengamot and, at the right time, get Barty Crouch voted in to replace Fudge. Maybe then we can begin tentative approaches to other members of the International Confederation of Wizards.
Harry rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. "And begin a serious and official roundup of suspected Dark Arc members. Veritaserum and the Triapetit will change everything. They won't know what hit them!"
"Cheers to that!" cried Neville, and everyone joined in.
"So, Ron," smirked Harry as he wiped Butterbeer foam off his lips, "how about, you know what?"
"What?"
"You know..."
Ron groaned, "Oh, all right then... just one each though..." He dragged out a curious pack shaped like a winged sphinx.
"Figmentals!" cried Ginny. "Finally...!"
"Just one each," cautioned Ron again.
"Yeah, yeah, expensive, we get it, Ron," cried Ginny.
"Not that so much, but the only way to get more is to travel back to Egypt."
He opened out the sphinx's wings revealing a treasure of silvery foil pouches in different colours. "Okay, who's first?"
"Not for me, thanks, Ron," said Hermione. "I want to keep a clear head tonight. Something's... something feels sort of... imminent."
"Uh oh!" laughed Harry.
"Well then, try a Figmenthol," said Ron. "That will sharpen your wits like an icicle up th–"
"–Me too! Me too!" cried Luna.
Hermione reached out. "Which ones? How come the Egyptian magicals know about silver foil?"
"They're the bluey-green ones," said Ron. "Dunno. They seem to use more Muggle stuff than we do over here. Self-pedalling bicycles, walking shoes, flying carpets, and you ought to see their dancing bellies!"
"Belly-dancers you mean, Ron," smiled Hermione, cautiously opening her Figmenthol.
"No, honestly, they have these belly things that uumm... dance."
"Eww!" groaned Ginny and Harry in unison.
"Don't wish to know that," said Ginny as she accepted a Sob Lime.
"What's that small dark one?" said Neville, poking to see if it was soft or hard.
"Erm... that's just a plain Pygmy-Figme. They only taste of figs. What about you, Olive?"
"A Lemon Lusher, please, Ron."
"They're the yellow – careful, they're a bit sharp. How about you, Harry? Fundant Fancy? They're soft and well, pure fun. I think they've got a bit of Cheering charm in 'em. They're the plain silver foil ones."
"Yeah, why not..."
Neville pulled a face. "Uuh... this tastes more like pygmy than figme to be honest."
"No, they're okay once you get past the loincloth," said Ron.
Ginny was weeping softly. Tears streamed down her face. "This is so wonderful..." Her body began to shake with deep emotion. "I'm so happy..."
Floating cross-legged a few inches above one of the tables was Luna, her eyes closed as if in a trance. Sat at the table was Hermione, clutching one of Luna's bare feet, and gently stroking the sole. "What do you see, Luna?"
"I see everything. Nothing is hidden from me."
"I so get that now, Luna," said Hermione, nodding her head sagely. "I knew before I asked you."
Harry laughed. "These are great, Ron! This is the most fun I've ever had with nothing to do. Look at this Butterbeer mat, Ron! Isn't that the funniest pattern you've ever seen? You know what? I bet if I sit on my hands it will really be a lot of fun!"
"You do that, Harry," grinned Ron. "Hey! I've got more taste! Look at me everyone! My taste is disfiggered!"
"Gross! Your mouth is bigger and... kind of on the outside!" said Neville.
Ron laughed and his tonsils visibly wobbled. "Now you can't grumble if I don't close my mouth when I'm eating! It's like a million figs all at once."
Ginny and Olive were hugging together, racked with emotion, both with tears gushing. "We're so, so happy..."
Hermione had her bag open and Luna was describing every item even before Hermione pulled it out. "I so knew you were going to do that!"
"Hey! my ears taste great!" cried Ron. "To think I never knew!"
"You're so much fun, Dobby," said Harry, lurching across the bar. "I never realised till now how much fun you could be..."
"A grump grouse feather from the far side of the Forest," said Luna, eyes still closed.
"Tell me that joke again about the chicken crossing the road, Neville," said Harry.
"Harry, I've told it ten times already!"
"Yes, but it gets funnier every time!"
"Calfskin vellum parchment peg-stretched between January and March, 1991," intoned Luna, staring up at the ceiling. "Written upon with ink made from pine tree resin."
"Absolutely agree. All is so clear to me!" cried Hermione. "And the writing is so vivid now. It's shining! It's shining, Luna! And I'm shining too!"
"Yes, yes! I see it too now! My shifts three till six then nine to three alternate week February to April. Report at Bestiamare as needed ... while I ascend into the existingness of beingness. I'm flying, Hermione! I'm flying! I can see my eyes more clearly than ever, Hermione!"
"Yes, yes, I see them too!"
"Haha! That's so funny! Luna's up on the ceiling!" laughed Harry. "Tell me that joke again, Neville! The one about the chicken crossing the ceiling!"
"Waaah!" wailed Ginny and Olive as they squeezed out a sodden handkerchief together. "We–we're s–so happeeeeee!"
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The Forgotten Factory
That night, Hermione could not sleep. Earlier, under the influence of the Figmenthol, her thinking had seemed so lucid, leaping intuitively to conclusions from the smallest of clues; now her normal mind seemed dull and slow in comparison. She gazed round the dorm. A single candle stub on the windowsill was the only illumination to raise the blackness of the chamber to a faint gloom. From her bed, Hermione could make out the curly-headed Lavender burrowed under her bedcovers, Ginny's red hair was more visible, Fay and the other girls were too far into the shadows to discern, but the one she sought was nearby.
"Luna?" she whispered, "are you awake?"
"I think so."
"Can I come over?"
"I think so."
Hermione tiptoed across the space between them. In the gloom she saw Luna's bed coverings being lifted and she slipped inside to snuggle up and keep warm with her friend.
"Luna, I remember everything from tonight clearly but now I'm not always sure how I..."
"How you got there? You don't need to."
"Or where..."
"...it leads?"
Hermione nodded into the pillow. "Deciphering that poor writing... 'Report at Bestiamare as needed' was easy and I understood it – then. But now I don't. 'Mare' mean the sea usually but..."
"It was the name of a tannery and craft works that processed fine skins. We spoke about it earlier this year, don't you remember?"
"We did?"
"Yes, of course. We were talking about Rita Skeeter's handbag. You asked who makes bags like that and I said no one because the Ministry made it illegal years ago. That's when Bestiamare went out of business."
Hermione rolled out of bed to open her bag so quickly she almost pulled the sheets off Luna. Crouched down, she pulled out the parchment Ron had retrieved from Wigget Adney at Interiartcraft in Knockturn Alley, then took it over to the candle to read. The words had already been committed to memory but somehow, staring at the actual writing, now made the connection with Rita more astonishing and vivid: Report at Bestiamare as needed.
"Where is Bestiamare, Luna?" whispered Hermione.
"It's on Hearnsay," then, sensing Hermione's confusion, Luna added, "in the Orkneys."
"An island? I can't Apparate where I've never been."
"But we can fly."
Hermione sighed. "We? Luna..." She paused, thinking, then groaned, "You mean a Thestral, don't you?"
"Hearnsay is their natural home. A great many magical creatures live there. It'll be fun."
Hermione went back to her own bed. She'd not enjoyed her only previous flight by Thestral, but at least now she'd be able to see the mount she'd be riding.
"I'll ask Neville in the morning," said Luna in a happy tone. "And Ginny, of course."
"Luna..."
"That's settled then." Luna's voice was no more than a dreamy murmur. "Good night, Hermione."
"Goodnight, Luna," whispered Hermione.
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Faith in Books
But with a new week of study beginning, there would be little opportunity for several students to fly anywhere without being missed. Hermione decided that unless she went alone and at night, it would be best to wait for the next weekend when there was to be a Hogsmeade visit. And anyway, the new History teacher was introducing fresh, interesting material that even Hermione did not want to miss. She listened happily and attentively along with the rest of her class through almost forty minutes of detailed interaction and dialogue with which the tedium of Binns could never have competed:
"...And so the earliest forms of our communities were tribes often as small as two or three families grouping together for cooperation and safety, and not every members was magical. Their strength was healing. Most Muggle tribes of this period had very high mortality rates, particularly among the children." Professor Bagshot wrote a name on the blackboard. "Hetheora is the earliest tribal leader I have been able to positively identify as being significant in the formation of what we now call councils. She taught debate, justice, equality, and sharing of resources irrespective of magical ability. Despite her name, her appearance clearly indicated an eastern origin, probably from India. She was adopted by–"
"–How could you possibly know what she looked like!" Draco sniggered.
"Five points from Slytherin and one hundred lines of why you were wrong to interrupt – by tomorrow, Mr Malfoy. This is not a discussion period. I have already insisted that students should raise their hand if they have a question." Bagshot's eyes flickered across the classroom. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Wasn't it unusual for a woman, and especially a person of foreign appearance, to become a tribal leader in ancient times?"
"There has been such bias in Muggle history, but amongst Magicals, the only bigotry has been that of magical blood origins. Prejudice has its roots in power, and physicality is far less relevant to a Magical."
Seeing no other hands raised, she continued. "Hetheora delegated her own authority to representatives of her community. Thus the viewpoints and concerns of the many were taken into account in her decision-making. The Ministry of Magic has its earliest influences from The Wizard's Council first formed in the thirteenth century, many of whose tenets can be traced back to Hetheora's doctrines. Alas, much has been lost of her high principles simply because freedom itself permits false ideas to arise. For homework, please study the chapter dedicated to Hetheora's ideas, and write fifty inches of what you consider has been lost in the modern era. Thank you. Class dismissed."
Amidst the general clamour that arose while children made ready to depart, Ron blew out a long breath as he closed his Tutomee: "Phew! Certainly more interesting than Binns at any rate! How's she get to know so much! Even Witch Hazel looked bedazzled!"
"Entirely fascinating," agreed Hermione excitedly. "She really brings it alive, doesn't she!"
But deep down, curiosity nagged at the fringes of Hermione's thoughts: Malfoy had been right in one way; how did Professor Bagshot know so much detail? Information in many of her books was taken as definitive without other supporting accounts. Was some of it embellished, even fabricated? Was the foremost author of Magical History another fraud like Gilderoy Lockhart? Hermione Granger wore a puzzled frown for most of the rest of that morning...
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
A short chapter but I wanted to get this published because it was later than usual due to work on my other two stories. They're now finished and only need a little more polishing so I can concentrate on this epic.
There is a possibility this story might come to completion at the end of this school Year 3, that is, four books instead of the eight planned. The reason is, as I've said before, I've got notes and the whole story arc in my head as a series of scenes. I never had it planned as eight books but just expected them to string out to that length with relevant adventures. But for some reason, many of the main concluding scenes look to be all coming together in this year. This has taken me by surprise to be honest. There is always the chance of new ideas and adventures occurring to me before then (or even as sequels in the future) but I won't just pad it out for its own sake. Just saying, don't be disappointed. I only ever commit to one book at a time.
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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