A/N: I'm, again, incredibly sorry for taking so long. I've actually written fasted on this while school was in session than I did over the summer. However, I did do a TON of writing over the summer, most of which is already up or will be at this account:

fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=187936

*sponsor plug, yes* There's a great improvement in most of those stories. So if you're bored and have nothing to better to do than hound for HG5 updates *blushes because some people actually do* then go and hopefully enjoy yourselves. :-)

With that note, I hope everyone enjoyed summer vacation/holiday and that you have gloried in reading and swimming. Thanks sincerely to reviewers (the rulers... er, encouragers of my life... er, hobby): Ayla Pascal, Flamewing, Lavander Ice, Le Chat Qui Garde La Lune (who Rhe is only ignoring along with the rest of the world!), Mira Zareel, Niffler68 (I didn't dare reply to your review for fear I'd have my head Blast-Ended Skwert'd off, but thanks for the kick in the rear :-), ron loves hermione, Silent Onion, Slytherin Gal, Tarawyn, Volotra, and Wolfie da Wolf


Chapter Twenty-One: Blinded by the Eily


20 March

Somehow in the midst of all this Ron has the time to pout that we skipped his birthday. Well, granted, I suppose he has some claim to those pathetic puppy-dog eyes he's been giving, but, honestly. We are rather distracted. In fact… let me check what was happening at 1 March… that was right after Hagrid was killed, for heavens' sakes! Totally insensitive that boy. I'll get him with that little bit once I'm finished writing. Or perhaps not. It sounds too… cruel, particularly to Hagrid's memory.

In any case, Ron's miserable little hints that he isn't important enough for us to notice (oh, Merlin and Morgana, rest my head!) are a welcome change of pace from what I just came from: the mess of strangled emotions of awful helplessness of a group of people otherwise known as the CC. Only, funnily enough, I can't believe I never got around to mentioning the good changes that have been happening there since January. It seems morbid human nature kicked in again - complain when it's going wrong, but never acknowledge when we make progress.

Ever since that attack by Rowena's River the night of the Friday Night Fling, Professor Dumbledore seems to have lost a bit of patience with the Correspondence Chain (he certainly has more patience with the lot that I do). Those irritating Three Nurses, Page, Bell, and anyone else who is slowing things down has been swept neatly out of the way with Dumbledore's characteristic grace and no-nonsense persuasion. (Fleur is still about. Someone besides me has strong faith in that veela-girl. Probably a male.)

In addition to weeding out some of our "problem children", as Chelsea called them scornfully, this also allowed for several other members to return. For example, since a little before Christmas, Remus simply stopped coming to the meetings. During my time with him and Sirius, he explained whenever he came he only caused arguments, which was the last thing anyone needed. On the other hand, he's been sending fast and furious correspondence to all sorts of members on all levels of the CC (I suspect some shopowner is giving him discounts just to keep the steady business he's created in ink, parchment, and quills).

One of these letters, sent shortly after the affair of Playing Aurors (I still find the sound of that rather proud) at Carquel's, (he was probably still traumatised at Sirius's belated return and furious that it actually had to come to that) has been copied several times by various portions of the CC, including us, the first level, and it gaining fame elsewhere.

The Daily Prophet even ran large snippets of it yesterday, under the title of "Warning from a Werewolf", which certainly didn't help credibility but still has several people woken up from their delusion of safety (which I suppose isn't fair of me to scoff at, considering they haven't seen any of this firsthand… but honestly; the attacks and hints…). Today, much to my satisfaction, they offered a correction. "Lupin's Warning" covers several topics, to my undisguised enthusiasm: the real story behind certain attacks, what has actually happened at the Triwizard Tournament, what, to our best guesses, Voldemort (the original copy used the actual name; in the Daily Prophet it ran as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named") is planning to do…

I adored the beginning: "No one is safe any longer." Somehow it puts me in the mind of some B-class movie now, but it was an eye-catcher in the actual letter. It's the entire first paragraph (and the shortest one of the whole letter). And then, near the end: "This information was concealed by various sources for quite some time because those in authority did not want to cause a panic. I revealed this because I want some real-time fear in your hearts. If it is there now, excellent. Now kindly put that fear to good use. Be watchful and alert. Think carefully about what you as an individual and the wizarding world as a community did during Voldemort's last reign. Whatever we have learned from our mistakes is one step closer…."

Enough eulogising the letter (although it makes me feel a lot better to know that this is getting out). The point is that with the problem children (oh, Chelsea, will you never stop making me snicker over your poor unfortunate victims?) are gone, others have returned; I believe they may have been outright asked by Dumbledore or McGonagall, most notably Marlana Payne, Remus, and Sirius (as Snuffles. Fleur is the only one who dares ask aloud what "zat mutt" - as said to Sirius's growls - is doing at meetings, and only gets one of those patient smiles from Remus).

In all technicality, Fleur should be able to overrule them, but scratch that. Mrs Johansson, Miss Payne, and Remus are right back where they probably should've been the entire time and are now practically running the CC. Luckily they also have a strong influence and support on us measly students (the term coming from the attitude our dearly departed colleagues on anyone under the age of eighteen). Finally I'm really beginning to understand our role. It's a breath of fresh air, that's what, and I feel as if we're doing something now.

Problem being, of course, is that while we're organised and ready and still mostly helpless.

"It's an aggravating task, isn't it?" Mrs Johansson agreed tonight as Lisa rubbed at her temples.

"Of course it is," Payne said wickedly, leaning back on her chair in a way that made me have to bite back the instinct to warn her not to do so in case she fell. "If it wasn't aggravating and was easy fools would be running it. Oh, that's right, fools were running it…"

Mrs Gondola looked a little weary at the unmanageable scrap. Remus, looking up from the scrolls he and Chelsea had been poring over, gave her a light warning glance. Mrs Johansson went on as if there had been no interruption.

"We don't prevent too much of the bad news here. Unfortunately, we just get to be the breakers of it, and messengers are often killed or go insane trying to prevent it."

Chelsea interrupted, a bit hesitantly, with a question about a Daily Prophet item of a commotion outside of an Irish village. Reports of hooded figures, a great deal of Dark Magic spells, a wolf (it was full moon, actually, but no one was close enough to determine if it was true or were-). Most interestingly is that there are Ministry headquarters set up close to this particular area.

"We'll find out from our intelligence?" Payne said questioningly, with a glance to Remus.

"Said intelligence hasn't reported yet, but I believe we can guess what that's about."

"Excuse me?" Chelsea said (only Chelsea).

"Said intelligence is confidential," replied Payne, who certainly has the ability to annoy people to no end.

Remus gave her another little glance. "One blunt woman to another, I see."

"Oh, we're Slytherins, Remus," Payne retorted with a smile. "It's to be expected."

"We don't mean to lord it over you, Chelsea" - still giving Payne a hard stare as if to send a point across - "but the less people that know the better."

Snuffles gave a rather mournful little whine, of which I couldn't quite discern the meaning. Shortly after meeting was adjourned (with much pomp from Fleur) and Ron immediately brought up his Birthday Woes. I'll get him a present, for sure. A non-returnable ticket to Katmandu, perhaps… no, I'm being too harsh. When I get this mean-spirited it usually means that the clock is reading about bedtime.



24 March

Oh, delightful news for this time. Professor Grubby-Plank was called in for work at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, as several have prayed she would be. Fleur reported to Dumbledore that she is incapable of handling all of the classes herself. Today showed up at breakfast no less than Professor Charlie Weasley himself.

(Malfoy had to spoil the moment, little prat he is, by asking loudly and snidely if Weasley was here to take the gameskeeper job. Charlie responded that if he was, what of it? It was perfectly respectable. Malfoy laughed at this and said that for a Weasley perhaps it was. Charlie retorted that he was not here for that purpose, dead lucky for Malfoy, much to my amusement.)

Unfortunately for Charlie, Fleur has developed a dreadful case for him. Charlie seems impervious to her veela charm… to Fleur's obvious disgruntlement. She is extremely eager to teach right alongside him, let me tell you. Ron looked wide-eyed and horrified during class today.

Charlie managed to take care of her pretty quickly by inviting all of us to have an exercise session for our Kzeals. Fleur suggested that perhaps we oughn't, after all, they were rather illegally bred… Charlie gave her a smile and said that still, they just so happened to be alive now and were magical creatures after all, so we needed to take care of them. Afterwards we had to learn how to give them proper medical examinations, the like of which even I was not to keen on (not to mention everyone's face was rather pink), but Fleur was cowed enough to keep quiet and in the background. Beatry, by the way, is perfectly healthy, probably thanks to Neville, who has spoiled that little creature to death.

Malfoy, rot him, brought up a bit of a point about - the gameskeeper (I refuse to say "Hagrid's replacement"). So far Filch and the teachers have taken care of most of the immediate jobs, but truthfully Hagrid's not-hereness is apparent. The thought I can't stand is someone in his cabin, however. That's just… wrong. I don't think I could stand the thought of some stranger (who will undoubtedly fall short of Hagrid) down there.


26 March

I can't exactly say Sara is being downright annoying, because she honestly isn't. It's just that I have a bit of a habit of getting my hackles up whenever she's about, or that I don't like the intrusion into our little threesome - not that Sara "intrudes", per se. Still, after finding out she is Remus's niece, I suppose we couldn't exactly ignore her altogether, or even just a little.

She gets along very well with Ron, and it irritates me. I don't know quite why, but when I see them talking and carrying on I have this urge to go over, snatch Ron by the wrist, and get a restraining order on her. Which is ridiculous. But I've admitted that I'm very attached to Ron (not that he seems ready to do the same back, which is disconcerting when I wonder if he feels anything the same… oh, teenagerdom!)

The twins like to prank her incessantly, and she fires right back, certainly forgetting her prefect badge at these times. She and George still act like rabbits. And she and Harry share a quiet rapport.

But when I think on it, I can't really begrudge her a great deal, because as Lisa Turpin pointed out today as she saw me glowering, Sara isn't widely accepted elsewhere. She was a rather lonely figure before Christmas and still rather is.

"You could lay off her a bit," Lisa suggested. "She's not honestly as awful as you made out. She was a bit above me before her re-Sorting and was very nice to us younger Ravenclaws. Besides" - and Lisa gave me a knowing grin - "I thought you and the boys hated each other now."

I tried to raise and eyebrow and look haughty. It came out as my true emotion - surprise. "It's that obvious?"

"Only to those you know you well, probably just us in the CC. We understand. I won't let it slip. My friend Mandy is in a similar position." She sighed. "This war thing is really screwy."

"Mild way of putting it."

"I don't like feeling helpless. Mandy has nightmares all the time now."

I remembered our spying plans. "We don't have to be for very long." I've tried to avoid it because of fear, but we can't do that any longer. But the Society for Purity is alarmingly quiet as of late… which usually means the antagonists are plotting, now doesn't it?

Wait a moment. I believe I need to go smack my head against a really solid stone wall. Imbecile, Hermione! I don't know why I never saw that before! If the more bigoted Slytherins can created a Society for Purity - why, their victims can do the same, can't they?

All right, there may be a real idea hidden in here. They can harass one Muggle-born at a time, but strength in numbers and all. If we can secretly contact all the Muggle-borns in the school and have a system for passing information and a way to help each other… if we can call upon the good old-fashioned standby "buddy system" for protection… if we can gather together all our information for a really good collection of spying reports… a-ha. A-ha!

I just adore the feeling that comes from the lightbulb of a very good idea.


28 March

Come to think of it, there was more to Lisa's and mine conversation, but I'm not too interested in writing it all down.

The Eilies (meaning comes from root word "light"; I considered Society of Eily before realising that it was borrowing too much from the Society for Purity):

Things to do:

1) Concise list of all Muggle-borns in school (bet any Galleons the SfP has one?)

2) Decide which will be most willing and helpful.

3) Determine how to best word mission.

4) Make sure everyone involved masters basic silencing, secrecy, and protection spells.

5) Have a way for everyone to discreetly send information found during attacks to leader (which is probably me, of course, not to sound egoistical, but I did sort of have the idea).

6) (Same old problem). Find a way to talk to Dumbledore (perhaps Harry can help? He'll ask a great deal of questions, however, and the less that know the better…)

Now it's about time to go accomplish everything. After Defence homework, of course.


3 April

I just re-discovered why working with people is headachy. Possibly I should've learned something from the CC - no, Hermione, that would have been intelligent and logical, thus you didn't.

All right, this depressed sarcasm is getting me nowhere, and not all the news is too bad. Not all of it is the key word…

Justin Finch-Fletchey has been most helpful, but he also pointed out that "halfbloods" (I rather dislike that word but am not quite sure what to switch it to) are also being harassed to some degree. But on the other hand, now some extremely helpful and clever people are involved now that we're extending the hand: there's Miles Feth, Des Feth's older brother, a sixth-year prefect in Hufflepuff, and Cho Chang, who, yes, still seems to be dating Neville. And there's the Head Girl, Leila Hildegarde, who, unfortunately, can write better than I (everyone knows of her), and thus she can do the statement. The only thing I'm wary of is that she can word it well, but I'm not sure she completely understands what to word. No, this is not jealousy on my part! It's merely… a desire to make sure the message clear. Is that very much to ask?

I've only now, after about eight years of keeping a diary, realised that it's somewhat ridiculous to defend myself in the privacy of my own writing when I am talking to no one. Odd.

In the back of the Daily Prophet there's an order form for Thirteen Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty-Two Ways To Defy All Laws of Gravitation and Still Keep the Majority of Your Limbs, a book of flying tips which claims amusing incidents, moving illustrations to example, references, did-you-knows, and fun tidbits on how to sneak out at night to practise so your parents never know. So I'm not entirely sure it's a mature buy, but it'll keep Ron happy, so I pretend not to have read all the fine print.

Fine print. Ah, that brings back the memories. Fred and George were certainly busy on April Fool's. The only halfway constructive one of the pranks was the one in which they added nearly invisible "fine print" on their March exams, which stated certain… "allowances" in answering. By the time someone realised this and they demanded full marks, the teachers had already signed the tests. Dumbledore, however, was amused, and seemingly thought this was ingenious enough to not have to re-test.

There was also the one where Filch's office was decorated in chanting pink hearts, adhered to the wall with Unremovable Tacks. Fred disclaims that this was in any way cruel. "They're grand conversationalists," he said, the picture of sincerity, "and who else in this school talks to him?"


10 April

This is precisely why it is so encouraging to have people around who are dealing with what you are.

"I declare Hermione Granger an absolute genius," proclaimed Chelsea Smythe, whom, to my shock, was actually a Muggle-born and adopted by a wizarding family when she was orphaned and gave signs of magic. I had asked her if any of the Slytherins knew of this, and she shrugged.

"Not yet, but they will."

"Particularly if they see you with us," I frowned, worried.

She gave me one of those cool glares that make me instantly feel as if I should drop to my knees and beg forgiveness for utter stupidity. "I'd rather feel them beating me up than my conscience doing it. Especially since I can fight them. Now shut up and let me help."

Yes Ma'am, Chelse. Anyhow, her announcement went along the lines of "I declare Hermione Granger an absolute genius. Secondly, the Society has been quiet and inactive lately, which means they are plotting an absolute thunderstorm. Agreed?"

Most of us agreed heartily. No one countered this belief, that's for sure.

It's been a while since I wrote. A full week, I think - yes, 10 minus 3 is 7. So a lot has happened. Let's see. The book came in, the Quidditch one. Harry and I had some time trying to wrap it, because it was very excitable and kept flipping open to certain pages while shivering, and then taking into its mind to hover about and pretend it was Dangerous Dai himself. Finally, with the help of some ruthless curses we learned last year, we got the book to behave.

Ron liked it. He made sure we were good and guilty but obviously was only joking and really pleased. He hasn't stopped going through it for days.

Candy Whitehall, the girl who was Chaser for one game earlier in the year - I found her the other day crying like crazy in great heaves and sobs in a crevasse in Gryffindor Tower, a good ways away from the common room. I had been following the sound of her tears on my way to bed and found her hugging the legs of a suit of armor. A rather surreal sight, actually.

I made my way over and hesitantly kneeled next to her. "What's wrong, Candy?"

She gasped, but of course it came out as more of a hiccup. Instantly I was wondering if she was Muggle-born before realising she was wizard blood through and through. "Don't tell Sara or Dean! Please!"

All one can do under those circumstances is blink. Later I asked Dean, who shrugged and said they had found her crying a few months ago while they were on patrol and hadn't been too open.

"Shh!" I replied thickly. "Okay, Candy, okay, I won't, okay?" She looked so terribly alone and frightened and half-hysterical that I simply hugged her as if she was Lissie. It was rather more awkward, considering her position and how she wasn't related to me and she was years older than my little cousin, of course.

"Geroff!" she cried, starting to flail weakly. "Get off of me! Go away!"

I increased my pressure on her until she gave up the struggle. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing! I'm fine, really!"

This was said by the girl who was washing her robes in her own tears and could barely talk for whatever was gargled up in her throat. I could only raise my eyebrows. "While I'm glad to see you can't really put anything past me since you lie like a nun, quite obviously there is something the matter."

"It's - r-really!" Candy fought her tears, which of course only increased them. "R-Really, H-Her-Hermione, I'm a-all right. It's just - o-one of those d-days - w-wh-when n-n-n-nothing is g-going right… I j-just need a good night's s-sleep, honest!"

I got the impression every word she said was true, simply not all of the truth. "Fine. Fine. Now let's dry your eyes. I'm going to help you to your dormitory."

She half-gasped, half-groaned in dismay. "You don't have to do that, really!"

"No, I don't," I agreed, feigning composure, feeling a bit of righteousness helping to keep my cool. "But I'm going to do it anyway." It made it sound as if I cared, which I did, but you know what I mean. Showing that you are going out of your way for someone is supposed to help their self-esteem, which is turn is supposed to help break suicidal thoughts. Melodramatic? Yes. But I was worried. And maybe nothing will come out of this, but all the same I told her of Honeydukes's chocolate bargain bin.

Oh, and as for the last none-too-minor detail - Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match soon! I admit I'm thrilled. Anything for a bit of light-heartedness. And this isn't a just highly-charged match, just one everyone can enjoy. Particularly if we win. I don't see why not. Ravenclaw has a new captain, while our team is looking really good, enjoying their last hurrah. Next year Harry and Sara will be the only ones left: the rest is a complete do-over, which most are mourning. It's doubtful we'll find the chemistry they have left of the Golden Years (when Wood was here), and somehow we're wary of chancing it, whether we have a choice or not.

I'm still thinking of what Lee Jordan said on commentating. He hasn't brought it up again, and I keep thinking on how more popular kids like to pull such jokes on less popular ones and then laugh when they fall for it. Lee doesn't seem the type, but then he does have that warped prankster sense of humour.

But the important part is My Baby. Or Our Baby. But all in all, the one and same: the Eilies. We have lists and lists made up. That was the idea: first week, organisation, which has put some people off but is keeping the dedicated ones. And it gives us a sort of confidence knowing something concrete is there that we can all read and see and feel: lists and documents.

There's lists concerning what little we know on self-defence and which we believe is most helpful and trustworthy; there's lists on what people in the school are most helpful and trustworthy and who/where/what might give us the best advice; there's "safe routes" to various classes; "neutral answers to give to nastily tricky questions" (I think a Feth developed that one: it's both useful and vaguely amusing); library references, documents on our purpose, rules, regulations, etc…

Our statements are very original and I'm proud. "We have been blinded by the light of unity," Leila read from her draft. "Thus we have come together as the Eilies to use our illumination to protect ourselves against - "

"Ferrets!" cried Des Feth.

This was written into our revised manifesto. Our mascot is Crookshanks, for which I'm very proud and grateful, although Crookshanks seems to have a slightly more inflated ego ever since Justin Finch-Fletchey spent a few hours sketching him for a logo.


14 April

Charlie, in an effort to ward off Fleur, brought along our mysterious Josie Chance to Care of Magical Creatures today. Most unfortunately for Fleur, Josie proved to be decently capable and became Charlie's right hand. Almost quite literally. When Charlie gently pulled back a lock of Josie's hair Ron swears he saw wings about to spurt from Fleur's back, whether or not this is genetically impossible or no. (Logic never has much sway in his beliefs, does it?)

Ron likes Josie, though. Makes sense, since I think he was worried for a while Fleur might snatch Bill or Charlie. Absolutely torturous for the poor boy, eh? Or… perhaps… perhaps he just still has those fantasies of having her himself.

I suppose there's no point in demanding of my hormones why this makes me want to throw something.

Oh, I don't know. I've a crush on Ron. I admit it. But is it anything more? And why on earth does my mind insist on taking the time to do that when there's so much more to worry about? And besides, the idea of anything serious with Ron just sort of draws up a blank. Most of what I know of Ron points to… immaturity, really. But then again, my sordid little half-fantasies (crush them!) also have light suggestions of the person Ron is close to becoming, in which he really has more depth.

There's always this strong urge to blot out anything I write concerning these feelings. New topic, please. Let's stick our hand into the Bag of Current Events…

The words "transparent lie" have been reinvented yesterday, in the words of Daily Prophet writer Chester Madley. Apparently a dark-haired, foreign-looking man burst into a Ministry centre almost a month ago, the same night of the attacks in Ireland. One Ministry worker revealed this to the press, going into great detail about his state of raggedness, terror, and exhaustion. "He wanted to give a message. One moment he was there, and the next he made Harry Houdini proud."

Now, after a week-long Ministry conference, the same Ministry member announced he had fallen asleep that night on his watch and truthfully hadn't a clue.

You know, I'm glad I'm in Hogwarts, because if I was outside of where I spend most of the year I'd be frightened to death at the thought of doing a thing. There's no one to trust - except of course, who is here.

Drothl would be excepted from that, of course, but luckily that is a problem we mightn't need to worry about for some time. Sirius sent Harry a short note in a tone of supreme satisfaction on how with things going as they are, Drothl might be pulled into custody due to her rather shady past. Harry sent him back some news that we're also pretty happy about - last Potions class Snape sent around official forms for the students whose families had no objection to having a lycanthrope instruct their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes "in case of an emergency". "Brilliant!" Seamus roared, punching a fist into the air, drawing stares/sneers from the Slytherins and a glare from Snape, that said "keep your mouth shut, Finnigan" more effectively than any words. That sort of look must be handy, really.

Most interesting was when a large portion of Slytherins assured him on the spot that they weren't having (insert unflattering adjectives and a word that I never want to repeat here) teaching them. Snape nearly smirked. "Very well," he said in as regular a tone of voice as his usual.

"Why? Who'll be there besides the werewolf?" asked Morag MacDougall.

Malfoy, good grief, he has the teacher's pet routine down entirely too well. "Is it you, Sir?" he asked with great keenness.

"No." Again the faintest suggestion of a mocking sort of smile tugged at his lips. "Professor Grace Zambia."

Chelsea groaned, but seemingly almost no one else has any idea of what they're getting into. "All the little Hufflepuffs have already turned in a negative," she said scornfully to me at this evening's CC meeting. "Guess they don't know they're in for the woman who's a monster full-time." She glanced around edgily to make sure Zambia hadn't attended - even she is wary of infuriating her. Meanwhile I squirmed, feeling a bit uncomfortable at Chelsea's House prejudices. "Their delicate constitutions are in for a shock." Then she smiled grimly. "At least it'll be amusing to watch."

Lisa then asked if Chelsea ever said anything cheerful. Chelsea feigned cluelessness: "Cheerful? What's that?"

"Cheerfulness, noun: something that flees in terror whenever Chelsea Smythe shows up," I said solemnly. Chelsea laughed, but no one else got the joke.

TBC

Poll: The plot. How easy/difficult is it to follow? Are there times when Hermione brings up a character/event that happened beforehand that you have no clue to?