Harry Potter. Not mine. As always.
A small part of Hermione was aware that she was dreaming. A small part, insignificant, without enough leverage to force her to wake up. Not enough to leave her nightmare. Or perhaps not a nightmare. A re-telling of her past.
The dungeons. Cold. Dank. Dark. Hermione doesn't know where Neville is being kept. Doesn't know if he is alive. If he can still walk, still talk, still think, still fight. Because that is what she needs. A new hero to lead the Resistance. She is alone, the only one with the bravery to enter the lair of the Death Eaters. And then a voice, smooth as silk.
"Penny for your thoughts."
A spin on her heel, the wand rising, and a hand catches her wrist in an iron grip. A mocking smile behind the hand and the arm it is attached to, bright green eyes shimmering with amusement.
"Don't be killing the one person willing to help you, Granger."
A blink, and she is in Hogsmeade. The main street, running for her life. The werewolf is just behind her. Greyback takes the Wolfsbane potion to keep his mind, but he is as much a predator with it. More so. Hermione isn't fast enough…a turn, a screamed spell that barely wings the leaping wolf. Barely, but enough, and the claws that should have torn her throat out rip along her jaw instead. Blood. Pain. Panic. She falls, loses her wand, waits for the end. The wolf leaps again at her frozen form, but a blast of air hurls it sideways, onto a fence of spiked railings. Spiked railings that are suddenly silver. The last agonised howl of Fenrir Greyback slices into her ears, but before she faints she sees the lean figure approaching, black hair framing emerald eyes.
Hermione woke up with a scream that she was barely able to stifle, though she still gave a rasping gasp. She was used to nightmares, they had been familiar companions for all too long, but rarely did she have such dreams. She would have suspected Vulpine of manipulating her mind, but she knew he hadn't done so. Her dreams were driven by her conscience more than anything else, and her confusion. She knew she couldn't return to sleep now, so she slipped out of bed, dressed, and quietly made her way down to the Common Room. Once there she stood, silent in front of the dying embers of the fire, thinking. She needed some way to clear her head. Some way to puzzle out any meaning behind those memories of Vulpine. The Room of requirement. For a guilty moment, Hermione wished that she could just sneak up to the boys Dormitory and take Vulpines Invisibility Cloak. She might have done it, if it was Harry up there, but she dared not risk another encounter with Vulpine. Not so soon after unmasking him. He was too unpredictable. Too dangerous. No, a Disillusionment Charm would have to suffice for her. She at least had enough skill in sneaking around that she was confident of being able to manage with that much. It didn't take her long to leave once she made her decision.
The Room of Requirement was dimly lit and silent, and made Hermione wonder at herself. She had asked it for somewhere to think, and it had given her this dark, empty place. The only light came from a pallid white bowl sat on a pedestal in the centre of the room…a Pensieve. The Room worked in mysterious ways, but who was she to question it? Well, for one, she was Hermione Granger, insatiably curious and with a vein of cynicism that now ran deep. A large change from how she had been in her Third Year originally. Not, perhaps, the curiosity, but certainly she was more wary. Still. Hermione put aside her doubts, walking across to the shining bowl. It was empty, but seemed to beckon to her, call out to be filled. Sighing to herself Hermione carefully brought her wand to her head, focusing on the memories she wanted to view. The peeled from her mind with slow reluctance, unwilling to leave their natural home, but eventually the silvery strands fell from the wand into the bowl, coalescing into a shimmering mass of what looked like liquid. Hermione took one more breath, then leaned forward and touched her thoughts, letting herself be pulled into memory.
Romulus Vulpine was…perturbed, that was the word. It was an odd state of mind for someone like him to be in, an outsider might have thought, but there it was. The subject of his concern could have been thought odd, too. It was not Dumbledore, or Snape, or Voldemort, or the Ministry, for Vulpine was confident in his ability to deal with all those issues. It was not worry for his Godfather, for the man was quite capable of looking after himself. It was not even the overly finicky wand that refused him true access to his favourite spells and magics, limiting him in far too many ways. No, the object of his worry was Hermione Granger. It was bizarre that he should feel for her still, after all she despised him by all appearances, but Vulpine didn't much care. Amusing as it was to tease her, he wasn't about to let her get hurt. She was the closest thing to a friend he had left. And besides, she was useful to him. All of which meant that, when a Disillusioned Hermione swept past his Invisibility Cloak clad form Vulpine took notice of the slight haze generated by the Disillusionment Charm, and far more of the roiling mass of turmoil that was her mind. It was abnormal, and so Vulpine followed her on silent feet. The Room of Requirement…fascinating, even more so that she had wished for a Pensieve. Vulpine watched in silent contemplation as she entered her memories, wondering at his choices. Entering the memories was not something he took lightly: it would be an invasion of her privacy far more pronounced than his usual surface skimming Legilimency. But he had to know what had disturbed her…Vulpine sighed inaudibly at his own uncharacteristic actions, pulled his Cloak more tightly around himself and touched a delicate finger to the shimmering mass of thoughts.
Hermione herself wasn't sure what had made her choose this memory. In all fairness she would never had looked at it given the choice, but she had felt…compelled. The Room, perhaps, forcing her to relive her greatest shame. She couldn't help but feel sickened at the scene. The tent, the one she, Ron and Harry had shared while hunting the Horcruxes. Not a happy place now, with Ron and Harry in a blazing row. Wands drawn, rage clear…Hermione looked at Harry and saw the fury in his green eyes. A killing fury that reminded her of Vulpine. Herself, casting the Shield Spell that separated the two boys and protected them from the spells each other launched. Ron's a Blasting Curse…Harry's a dark grey one that she recognised from usage by Death Eaters. Following Ron as he stormed out, taking her bag with her, barely looking back. Hermione- the current one- walked closer to the memory figure of Harry, seeing the emotions she had missed in his eyes. Betrayal, clear as day, as they left him. For a moment Hermione was disgusted with him- he had shot a Dark Arts curse at Ron- but Ron was hardly guilt free. And this was the final step, the final point where Harry had become Vulpine.
Vulpine would admit to being fascinated. This was a memory he very rarely looked back on nowadays: he had brooded on it long enough in the months after it. The final straw, he considered it. He was glad that his Cloak worked inside the memory, given the state of mind Hermione seemed to be in- most Invisibility Cloaks would not work in memories, of course, but then his was unique. The hidden observer carefully sifted through the wild thoughts Hermione was having, but the ones that stood out were those full of recrimination. Blame for the debacle. His fault. Her fault. Ron's fault. Everybody's fault, and no-ones, in Vulpines opinion. He wasn't entirely sure what had spurred him to cast a Bone-Breaker Curse, though. Perhaps his fledgling Legilimency picking up something from the Weasel. Not that it really mattered. The memory was moving on, and Vulpine wondered if they would all involve him. This one was the day Voldemort had finally cornered the Hogwarts Defenders. Vulpine remembered half listening to the speech he gave, although the assassin had been distracted by the anticipation of the impending kill and the discomfort of wearing the form of his dead, treacherous friend. It was interesting to see this from another view. Vulpine raised an eyebrow at the 'You have defied me for five years' Voldemort gave- was the egomaniac really counting every year he had failed to rise to power since his resurrection? Pathetic. How Vulpine had relished the look of shock Voldemort had worn when the knife went through his eye socket, and his final Horcrux and most fanatical followers had died in the hellish flames of Fiendfyre. But why would Hermione be watching this? Vulpine himself had stayed only long enough to swipe the Elder Wand from the Dark Lord's convulsing body before Apparating away, so he had never seen the battle that followed. It was…disappointing. The Defenders were so hung up on not killing that it devastated them. Vulpine watched grimly as Hermione caught Dolohov off-guard with a Full Body-Bind, only for the man to have the curse broken by a follower. The vivid purple of a Flame Cutting Curse sped from the wand of the senior Death Eater, missing Hermione but eviscerating Lavender Brown. Foolish. If Hermione hadn't been so squeamish…
"Lavender…" Hermione said softly, watching her old roommate- current roommate again, now- being bisected by the powerful curse of Dolohov. The man's eyes were wide and wild, and his flesh was reddened from the heat of the Fiendfyre that had barely missed him. She should have killed him, or maimed him…she would do it now. Vulpine's words came back to her, words from his cell. 'That blood will be on your hands, Granger!' He had been trying to unsettle her, she knew it, but he wasn't incorrect. She watched, still silent, as her memory self ran through the corridors of Hogwarts, past bloody stains drying to brown, running for the statue of the one-eyed witch that hid a passage to Hogsmeade. A passage she could use to escape the Anti-Apparition wards on the castle, and flee the Death Eaters. All the Defenders were doing it. The Death Eaters chased her, recognising her, but Neville dived in to hold them off. And she left him without a second thought. Left them all. Another failure. Another sin to stain her soul. Hermione blinked hard, trying to clear away the tears that were starting to gather in her eyes as the memories moved on. Vulpine would laugh at her now, she thought, even more than he usually did. The next memory was her trying to save Neville. Her redemption, she supposed you could say. The rest of the Resistance- those who remained- had considered this a fool's errand, but she had refused to leave Neville imprisoned, even if she had almost no chance of saving him. And then Vulpine had turned up. Just as in her earlier dream she saw herself turn on him when he startled her, but he easily prevented her from harming him.
"Help me? You? You're nothing but a traitor and a coward!" snarled her past self. The memory Vulpine didn't lose his easy, mocking smile.
"If you think that then you are more blinded than I expected. Traitor? Perhaps. From a certain view. But coward? I think not."
Vulpine gave a soft, low laugh that still sent a chill down Hermione's spine, a laugh that seemed filled with malice and amusement. She would, reluctantly, admit that he was right. Vulpine was many things, but not a coward. Never that. Of course, those years ago she didn't see that.
"Not a coward? You ran from Voldemort! You refused to face him while people died! You left the Defenders to die!" her memory self hissed. Vulpine no longer looked quite so amused.
"Oh? You think those were the actions of a coward, do you? You really think that trying to face Voldemort would have worked, that a barely trained teenager could defeat a prodigy with over fifty years of experience in magic? If so, then you are as big a fool as Dumbledore. To defeat Voldemort in open battle I would have had to die, Granger. To me, the freedom of the sheep who turn on me at the slightest chance is not worth that."
Vulpine had another point there, Hermione could now see. She might not like it, but she could understand why he would consider the Wizarding public unworthy of his sacrifice. Her memory self looked frustrated.
"Why are you here, Harry?" she demanded. Vulpine rolled his eyes.
"Vulpine now, actually. And I want to help you, dear. I can't have you failing and getting captured or killed by the Death Eaters, now can I? You can decide for yourself which one would be worse."
Hermione had always found it annoying that Vulpine often referred to her as 'dear'. She suspected that was a large part of why he did it. Her memory self looked conflicted, but not as much as she might have thought…although, at that point she hadn't known that Vulpine had killed Ron. And, if she remembered correctly, this was the first time that she had learned of Vulpine changing his name.
"Vulpine?" her memory self questioned. The man in question nodded.
"Since Harry Potter is a bit of a wanted man, I thought a name change would be appropriate. Romulus Vulpine, I decided."
Hermione wondered if Lupin had influenced that. Vulpine was clearly from the fox Animagus form, sounded similar to Lupin. And Romulus had been the brother of Remus…maybe she was reading too much into it. Her past self looked conflicted, as well she might.
"All right then…Vulpine. Just don't get yourself hurt. I can't carry you and Neville out."
Vulpine snickered and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself.
"I'm not the one who might be in danger, Hermione."
Arrogant, Vulpine thought, very arrogant. But then, he had just killed the Dark Lord. He was entitled to a little bit of hubris. And besides, it hadn't been as though the guards had been top quality. It hadn't been all that dangerous. Deliberately violating the Taboo on Voldemort's name and ambushing the Death Eaters who responded…now that had been dangerous. Fun, too. Pity that they stopped after the fifth group had gone 'missing'. Vulpine seemed to remember that he had murdered his way through the prison, and given that so far the memory Hermione hadn't met a single guard it seemed he was right. Until they reached the deeper cells. Very crude ones at that. A circular room. Stone, with deep, cave-like rooms, with metal bars across them. The bars themselves didn't include a door, but they could be removed with the right cell. Fairly secure. Four guards. Vulpine wondered what it looked like from Hermione's perspective- the past Hermione. A brief flicker as his memory crossed the floor, and suddenly a guard was screaming and clutching at the knife in his eye. Not that the screams lasted long…three Curses of varying type and the other guards were down. Vulpine watched with interest as both Hermione's hissed in annoyance as the memory Vulpine Disillusioned with a smile. He really could be a bloodthirsty bastard at times.
"Your minions, milady." The memory said with an elegant bow. Vulpine smiled with approval at his own theatrics before realising just how narcissistic that probably was. The sniff that Hermione- both of them- gave confirmed his suspicions. Hmm…Neville, Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. Odd how they had all become important in the Resistance, though it looked like only Neville had been tortured. The scars on his face were still red and raw. All three prisoners looked disbelieving as Hermione began to chant and wave her wand, dispelling the bars that kept them enclosed. He knew what came next. It would be interesting to see Hermione's angle of it.
Hermione wasn't paying attention to her past self, it wasn't really important. No, she was watching Vulpine with interest. The issue with a lot of memories was that they didn't catch everything. Yes, they caught a lot, but not everything, which meant that the long incantation Vulpine was currently going through was largely missing, as Hermione had only been peripherally aware of it. But from what she knew…it was Greek, she knew that much, and Dark. Hermione watched in annoyance as her past self finished the incantation and the bars fell, only for a blaring alarm to sound and six Death Eaters to Apparate into the room. They all looked so smug…perhaps not without reason, as she should have checked for alarms. Vulpine must have known, though, given the chant he had just finished. The lead Death Eater was Dolohov, his still reddened face set in a superior smirk.
"So, the Mudblood and the murderer hero." He said. Vulpine smirked himself, but didn't say anything, just as Hermione didn't. Neville had collapsed, but Susan and Ernie had rushed over to him and were holding him upright. Dolohov was still talking.
"Quite the catch, hmm? I almost got you twice, Mudblood…third time lucky."
Dolohov started to snicker, almost a giggle, and Hermione remembered her fear at that point. It was also the moment when Vulpine started to laugh, a richer, darker tone than Dolohov.
"Oh, Antonin, I am disappointed." He said, his smirk starting to twist into a nigh-insane smile. Dolohov glared at him.
"Why, blood traitor?"
"Because…you only brought six men. And women, of course." Vulpine said, eying Pansy Parkinson, stood near the back of the Death Eater group. The fox Animagus had a grin that was positively feral now, as the bodies of the four guards twitched and slowly stood. Everyone in the memory stared in horror.
"You should have brought more, Death Eater." Vulpine almost whispered, his eyes shining with undisguised glee. Dolohov brought up his wand, and Vulpine gave his Inferi the command, clicking his fingers for emphasis.
"Sick 'em."
The four animated corpses lunged with hideous screeches, and Vulpine went for Dolohov, apparently giving in to the urge to laugh like a madman. Dolohov looked outright terrified as he cast his signature Flame Cutting Curse, only for Vulpine to dash it aside and respond with a Bone-Breaker. The former member of the Inner Circle leapt aside, but Vulpine was casting an array of spells at him, denying him the chance to fight back. Dolohov was good, dodging the spells, but eventually Vulpine caught him with a much weaker version of The Hands of Gaia. A single skeletal hand formed from the stone floor, clutching Dolohov's ankle, and in the moment he stood still Vulpine blew his wand hand off and hit him with a Flesh-Rotting Curse. Dolohov screamed and writhed as the corruption spread up his body, but Vulpine paid him no heed, turning to the only surviving Death Eater. Parkinson ran, terrorised by the Inferi that had mauled her comrades and the man who had doomed her leader to a torturous death, but before she got three steps a Flame Whip coiled around her neck. Parkinson jerked to a brief halt for a moment before Vulpine pulled sharply and her head hit the floor moments before her body.
"Well," Vulpine said into the shocked silence, "That was refreshing."
Susan vomited. Hermione couldn't blame her, especially as the dead Death Eaters were now starting to stand up again despite missing limbs, torn flesh and, in one case, evisceration. Only Dolohov, whose body was fragmenting, and the headless Parkinson didn't move. Vulpine rolled his eyes, his own emerald gaze fired with a terrible amusement.
"We should go, you know. The spell only covers the prison, and I'm quite sure that once the Death Eaters realise Inferi are involved they'll be a lot more cautious."
Numbly, the four of them followed Vulpine through the now infested prison, moving as quickly as possible until they were outside. Vulpine turned and pointed his wand at the building.
"Incendo Invidus." He pronounced clearly, and flames leapt from his wand, forming into the blurred shape of dragons, Basilisks, Chimera before raging into the prison. Fiendfyre.
"What are you doing!" screamed memory Hermione. Vulpine didn't blink.
"Getting rid of the evidence." He responded smoothly, turning to look at her. And that was when she slapped him.
"Now that isn't very nice." Vulpine said mildly, retaining his slight smile despite the red handprint now forming on his cheek. Her past self was nigh incoherent.
"You…Inferi…the prisoners…Fiendfyre!"
"The Inferi were an experiment, one that went excellently. There were no other prisoners. The Fiendfyre will wipe out the Inferi and the building and then cease to burn, and your friends have been rescued. I see no problem here." Vulpine responded. Hermione stared at him seeming utterly broken.
"Why?" she asked, her tone soft. And Vulpine seemed to lose his flippancy.
"Because being the good guy wasn't working, Hermione. But that doesn't mean I don't…care." He replied, and now, looking at the memory, Hermione could see the sorrow in his green eyes. Vulpine turned to walk away, but Susan called after him.
"Why leave, Potter? Why help us?"
Vulpine didn't turn, but he replied.
"My name is Vulpine, Bones. And why help you? Well…consider it the remnants of my hero complex."
A turn, a swish of air and he was gone.
Another memory, the second of her dreams. Greyback, chasing her. The Enforcer werewolves had taken to using Wolfsbane on the full moon, simply to make their hunting easier. It took a certain feral mindset to hunt so with a human mind still, but Greyback…Greyback relished it. Of course, it went wrong when Vulpine launched him onto spiked railings with a simple Banishing Charm and turned the railings to silver. And then Hermione fainted. When she woke up she was lying on a bed, with a bandage on her face and a figure seated in an armchair nearby. The room was quite nice…dark red painted walls, furniture that was plain, yet tasteful.
"Thought you weren't going to wake up." The figure said quietly, interrupting her study. The memory Hermione couldn't quite bite back the gasp that she let out as Vulpine leaned forwards. Vulpine. By that point the most feared murderer in Britain. The man who had strung Draco Malfoy from the top of Gringotts bank. The man who had left the mutilated bodies of Crabbe and Goyle Senior outside Malfoy Manor. The Fox, some called him. Hermione considered the name quite appropriate.
"Vulpine! You-"
"Saved your life? Yes. You are welcome. Unless you intend to berate me once more, in which case I might have to leave."
Vulpine chuckled. It was a pleasant laugh, to Hermione's surprise-or the surprise of her past self, anyway. Someone like that should have a laugh like Voldemort, blatantly evil. Her memory self spoke again.
"Where am I?"
"A small house that I maintain near Hogsmeade. Don't worry, it is quite safe. The Fidelius accounts for that. You are fortunate that I was in Hogsmeade…or perhaps unfortunate."
"What? Why?"
"Surely you don't think Greyback was after you? No, he was hunting me, and caught your scent. No doubt he thought you would be an appropriate…appetiser. In any case, his death might remind Lucius that some foxes need more than one hound to catch them."
Hermione wasn't interested in small talk with the person who had betrayed her and killed Ron, but she was at least civil. The Harry she remembered allowed that much.
"What have you done to me?"
Vulpine raised an eyebrow in a manner of bemusement.
"Nothing. Frankly, you're far too suspicious. All I did was cast a healing spell on that cut, but since I'm not a Healer I bandaged it as well."
"Why did you help me?" Hermione asked. Vulpine sighed in mild annoyance.
"Consider it the last of my chivalry. Besides, it left Greyback very open. Fair exchange is no robbery."
Her memory self opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Hermione herself watched silently, marvelling at how different Vulpine was from the Harry he had been…and how similar. Not for the first time, she started to think that perhaps she was hanging onto the whole 'Harry and Vulpine are separate' thing too much. Yes, Vulpine had a lot of bad traits, but ultimately…he was still Harry. He had still been her friend for seven years, and he hadn't ever actually tried to seriously harm her in any…Hermione's brain ground to a halt, and there was a soft clapping behind her.
"Thought you'd never figure it out."
Hermione whirled and snapped her wand up. To Vulpine's credit, her merely continued folding his Invisibility Cloak away.
"How did you-"
"You passed me in the corridor, practically radiating concern and fear. I decided to follow you." He said calmly. He even offered her a smile that looked entirely genuine. Hermione didn't lower her wand, but the memory seemed to freeze around them.
"You…what have you seen?"
"All of it. But I lived it as well, of course."
"Why would you follow me?"
"Vulpine sighed, and seemed almost weary.
"Because, Hermione, hard as this may be for you to understand, I actually care about you. You are one of the few people I have considered friends. You are the only person who, right now, I consider a friend, and I wanted to make sure that you were ok. Is that so bad?"
"Make sure I was ok?" Hermione hissed. "How dare you lie to me! You don't-"
Vulpine interrupted in a near shout.
"For the love of God, Granger, open your eyes! Stop looking at things in black and white! You seem to think that anyone who is 'evil' can't understand love, or compassion, or mercy, and it blinds you. Look at the Malfoys! They were evil by almost any standard, and they loved each other without question! Even people who are bad have feelings, Hermione. And besides that, at least I'm doing things! You came back without full knowledge of the Horcruxes, relying on Dumbledore, with no idea on how you're going to stop Voldemort. Do you think I'll die like the old man plans, to get rid of the damn Horcrux in my skull?"
Hermione choked a little on the last words, burning with the shame of being dressed down by Vulpine and shocked by the confirmation of what she had suspected: Vulpine was a Horcrux. Unfortunately, Vulpine wasn't finished.
"And, before you say anything about not caring, thing on how many times I have saved your life, or spared you. Did you know that you, Neville and Luna had the highest bounties for assassination I've ever seen? But I never took them!"
Not for the first time, Hermione opened her mouth and said something nigh irrelevant.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Vulpine made a noise of frustration and the memory abruptly changed. This must be one of his, she realised, because only Vulpine and a woman she vaguely recognised were in it. Vulpine was looking at a sheet of parchment, and shaking his head.
"No."
"Be reasonable, Romulus." The woman said, her voice persuasive, almost…seductive. "Can you really afford to turn away money like that?"
"Oh, absolutely Ms. Zabini. I can pick and choose because I happen to be the best. And no matter how much you put into that little charm you're using, I can resist Veela allure. I can certainly ignore your attempts at seduction."
Zabini made a discontented noise.
"Longbottom. Granger. Lovegood. Do you really care for them that much? And if you do, why aren't you helping them?"
Vulpine's memory stared blankly at the parchment for almost a minute before replying.
"Because the Resistance has already failed. They just don't know it. All I need is to…well. You know what you want. The other Pureblood groups weakened enough that you can win the power struggle that'll follow the end of the Resistance. Once that's done…I'll vanish the three of them. Maybe more. Leave the country. Leave you all to fight it out."
"Oh? How noble." The sarcasm was thick in Zabini's voice. "And do you think they'll forgive you, these friends that you are working for?"
Vulpine looked at her.
"I am not doing this for them. I'm doing this to break the Purebloods. Revenge is as good as any motive…but if I can help them…and I don't expect forgiveness, or understanding, or even tolerance. Once I'm done I'll leave."
"Break the Purebloods…a dangerous phrase, given that you're talking to a Pureblood."
Vulpine snorted.
"Give it a rest, Zabini. You don't believe in that Pureblood Supremacy bollocks any more than I do."
The woman gave a musical laugh.
"Of course I don't. Why, you and Voldemort are…were… two of the most powerful wizards in Britain-in the world, even- and both Half-Bloods. And I doubt Dumbledore was of a 'pure' line. Do you know if he was?"
"I think so. Not sure though, and I don't care. Don't you have someone else for me to kill? People are dying for every minute this Pureblood Ministry charade goes on."
"For a sadistic, kill crazy assassin you really have a heart of gold, you know that?"
"It's part of my charm."
As the memory ended Hermione stared at Vulpine. He looked almost ashamed, a small, clinical part of her mind noted, but he looked back at her defiantly.
"How did you do that?" Hermione asked. Vulpine shrugged.
"If you know how you can add memories to a Pensieve with Legilimency. I don't like doing it though, it gives me a headache."
"Did you mean what you said? About wanting to help us?" Hermione asked quietly. Vulpine sighed, looking conflicted.
"I…yes. I did. But…sometimes, I considered helping you as important as destroying the Purebloods. But sometimes it just didn't seem to matter…and I suppose I didn't care about anyone who I didn't consider a friend. Like when I was captured. I didn't care at all about the rest of the Resistance who I killed, but I couldn't hurt you, so…"
"You killed them to try to escape. What about everyone who dies to the Hands of Gaia?" Hermione demanded, her voice rising a little. But only a little…somehow she didn't feel the anger she normally would have. Vulpine closed his eyes.
"I can control it, to an extent."
The green eyes opened again, and fixed onto Hermione.
"Don't think this is repentance, Hermione. I don't regret anything I did. I don't regret the killing, or the Dark magic. But I don't want to hurt you. Think about it."
Vulpine said his last words before leaving the Pensieve. By the time Hermione followed he was gone. Hermione removed her memories from the Pensieve and sank into an armchair provided by the Room, lost in thought.
"He said I was unprepared." She whispered to herself. She wanted to deny it, but in the end…he was right. She hadn't been prepared. What had she been expecting, that Dumbledore would wave his wand and make everything right? She might not agree with Vulpine that Dumbledore was manipulative and almost as bad as Voldemort, but in the original timeline they had trusted Dumbledore to sort things out and look where that had gotten them. Dumbledore had said he would deal with Pettigrew, but nothing had been done. Dumbledore had said he would deal with the Horcruxes, but he hadn't managed originally and, from what Hermione knew, he would never have retrieved the true Locket anyway. Not without Vulpine's help. And he had let Malfoy run free for a year, trying to 'redeem' him when the Slytherin had almost killed several people in clumsy plots. And now…the Headmaster still saw her as a little girl. She would be no use like that. No…perhaps…she could work with Vulpine. She didn't have to like him. Didn't have to trust him. But for the moment, he might be the best ally she had.
Vulpine rubbed the bridge of his nose as he walked, trying to stave off a crippling headache from forcing a memory into the Pensive. That might have been a bad idea…but hopefully it had helped convince Granger of his truthfulness. He hadn't been lying…he had his reasons for wanting her to stay alive. Not all light and friendly ones, but what did that matter? He wasn't a hero. Not by any standard. And once all this was over he doubted he would ever see her again. But now…he had plans to make.
He needed to get a Horcrux from Voldemort, to act as redundancy. The Ring would be best, fairly easily accessible…Vulpine had leached the Parseltongue password that would disarm all the traps from Voldemort's mind. He just needed time. Speaking of Horcruxes…perhaps he had better look on making his own once more. It would be a tragedy if Snape or Dumbles decided to shoot him in the back and get rid of the Horcrux, especially if Voldemort hadn't returned so he couldn't use the little blood anchor Voldie inadvertently provided to return to life. Vulpine had never dies, in all honesty, but he wasn't eager to sample the experience.
Secondly, he needed to tell Sirius about the whole issue with Dumbles, Snape and Hermione knowing about him. That was important. And he needed to work on the wands for Sirius and him, and make plans for the Shrieking Shack in June. It was a long time away, but if he didn't plan it would undoubtedly bite him in the arse later. And speaking of biting…he wanted to see if he could brew Wolfsbane Potion. It would be a useful thing to keep on hand, along with maybe some other potions…benevolent or not. He could shrink them and put them in a bag he supposed, always useful. But he's need a test subject…Lupin would do. So he needed to find out when the full moon was. And it might be a good idea to tell Lupin about the whole time traveller thing. He vaguely trusted Remus, and Sirius trusted the wolf, but…well, he would need to find some way of getting out of the Patronus lessons. Somehow he no longer thought that his Boggart would be a Dementor, and he was in no hurry to find out what it was.
Thirdly…the Triwizard Cup next year. Voldemort's return. That was something he couldn't change, really. He knew a way to remove the Horcrux Voldemort had inadvertently put into him, but it would only work if the original creator had a fixed soul- as in, was corporeal. So he needed Voldemort to return. The capture of Pettigrew might affect that, but Vulpine was confident that a few powerful compulsion charms on Lucius Malfoy would do the trick, so he's have to consider a way of managing that. And as if all that wasn't enough, he would have to consider a way of getting to the site of the resurrection. If Voldemort followed the same plan as last time he would have to enter the Tournament, which wasn't fun even for someone who didn't much care about the opinions of others. Maybe another way, influence Malfoy to suggest a different plan. It might be difficult, and require a delicate hand, but Vulpine relished such challenges. Which was why he was also working on getting Buckbeak to win his trial or, failing that, a plan to free Buckbeak. Vulpine started to smile to himself as he slipped out of Hogwarts and headed towards the Forbidden Forest, his headache easing. Hermione seemed to be softening towards him, more of the cards were in the open…the game was getting more exciting, and he relished it. Back to work for now, though…no rest for the wicked.
Not much actually going on in this chapter, but a bit more history and perhaps some work on the Vulpine/Hermione dynamics. Hope you enjoyed it.