DISCLAIMER: I don't have the patience right now to do a creative, funny one that people actually want to read, but I have to have one, don't I? Harry Potter and all related trademarks are property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and probably a bunch of other people I've never heard of. I do own the plot of this as far as I know, but it's probably not a very good one, and it's probably incredibly similar to about a dozen other fan fiction stories. Please don't sue, because nothing will come of it since I have no money; I just cashed in my piggy bank (don't laugh, it's true!) for ice cream, and have about 0.50, if even. Nothing I own is worth anything, and I don't even have a lot of clothes I could use as collateral – I wear the same pair of incredibly comfortable jeans every day, along with one oversized sweatshirt sans pocket. You can have my backpack if you REALLY want it, but you have to carry it around with you all day every day like I do and suffer from severe back problems like the inability to stand up even without the added weight. Basically, I don't own the characters, setting, etc, and I don't own anything you could sue me for even if you tried, so just save us all a lot of time and money and DO NOT SUE!
Prologue: Rumors
People were afraid; more now than before. There had been no news about the Dark Lord for months, no muggle killings, no attacks on the Ministry or, as parents of young witches and wizards feared there would be, Hogwarts. It was as if Voldemort had simply gone away, or given up; but he was far too power-hungry to even think of doing such a thing. He had "died" once, and had come back, thirteen years later, against all odds. He was planning something big, apparently, something more important than his usual regime of torture and pointless death.
There were rumors, just like last time, except, since his resurrection, wizards rarely wrote anything off as stupid and impossible. As they now knew, anything was possible.
Some rumors were, of course, not true. Like that Voldemort had given up, or had been killed, and his body destroyed. Those were made up by people trying to reassure themselves and their families that everything would be okay.
There were other rumors, though, terrible, frightening rumors. There were rumors about a new player in the War, another one questing for power and control. She had no name, apparently, at least no name that anyone knew. She was powerful, her power rivaled even Voldemort's, and they called her the Black Rose Queen. If you listen to rumors, that is…
Chapter One:
"Harry, I don't care what they're saying. You know it's true. He's not gone; he wouldn't give up like that. You know better than anyone that he wouldn't give up."
He looked like he was about to argue with her, but decided against it. "You're right; he's not gone. If he was gone, I would know.
"But Hermione, I can't feel him anymore. I know the Occlumency lessons aren't working that well. But there's nothing, not even a trace of him in me. I don't know what to think. So I'm going to try to think the best. Maybe – maybe he is gone this time. Maybe – maybe his Death Eaters revolted against him. Maybe he got a kiss from a dementor. Maybe- "
"Maybe the rumors are true," she said ominously.
"Which ones?" he asked, dreading the answer he knew was coming.
"The Black Rose Queen. Maybe she's real. Maybe that's why Voldemort's not active anymore - he's got her to do his dirty work, instead."
"Where'd you read that, Hermione?" he asked, trying to sound like he didn't believe her. "The Quibbler?"
"What's so wrong about that?" came a dreamy voice, floating over to the table in the Room of Requirement. On the table, Harry and Hermione had spread out newspapers, magazines, and everything else they could think of that would give them some sort of a clue as to Voldemort's next move. In front of them lay, indeed, the latest edition of The Quibbler; it was open to a long article with a magically enlarged picture of a black rose. Several rolls of parchment, completely full of Hermione's miniscule handwriting, lay on the ground next to them, and a radio turned to a wizarding news station was playing softly in the background.
"Er – nothing. I mean…" he trailed off.
"Oh my goodness, Luna, is it seven o'clock already?" The blonde girl nodded, surveying the room with interest. "Harry, the D.A. meeting! We need to clean up; I mean what'll happen when everybody gets here? There's no room left!"
"Relax, Hermione. There's twenty minutes until the meeting. I asked Luna to come a bit early, help us set up. After all, she is the leading expert on – er – what is it we're doing again, Luna?"
"Proper defense against heliopaths."
"Er – yeah. And since Luna here knows all about heliopaths, she's going to be – er – helping me teach the group today. Right, Luna?" She nodded. Hermione looked puzzled. "Actually, Luna, could you do me a favor? I forgot to get the – er – tablecloth – for the lesson. Would you get it for me? A white one, please. The house elves in the kitchen will get it for you." Hermione got slightly angry at the mention of having a house elf get something.
"Oh yes, the tablecloth. Can't have a proper lesson about heliopaths without a tablecloth, certainly. I'll be back." And she left.
"Harry, what was that about? What does a white tablecloth have to do with the D.A.? And why on earth is Luna Lovegood going to teach the D.A. about heliopaths? They're NOT REAL! Or have you forgotten?"
"Have you noticed that the only place that has more facts about this 'Black Rose Queen' besides the name and symbol is The Quibbler? I wonder if we show that to Dumbledore, would he let us meet with Mr. Lovegood? I'm sure Luna wouldn't mind, and we might be able to find out more…"
"What are you going on about?"
"I'm tired of sitting here doing nothing. The only thing that seems more than rumor right now is the Black Rose Queen, and I think that Mr. Lovegood knows more than anyone else. I intend to find out what he knows and how he knows it! Besides, Luna's been asking about these heliopaths for ages. And with all the exams and Quidditch and everything coming up this year, it's time to let someone else teach the D.A. Everyone has an area of expertise. Plus, you never know, maybe The Quibbler's right, and heliopaths do exist. We'd be sorry then, wouldn't we?" He was half-mocking her.
"Oh, shut up. You know you don't believe that!"
"Well, no, but that's what I'm going to tell the D.A. when they ask. I'll just explain, and then we'll be off to see Professor Dumbledore."
"Oh all right. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to just talk to him about it, though I'm certain he already knows much more about it than we ever will. After all, he is Dumbledore. I mean –" Seeing that this was going to turn into a lecture on how omniscient Albus Dumbledore was, Harry quickly cut her off.
"In case you've forgotten, we have to get our things together. I have a feeling Professor Dumbledore is expecting us."
"Oh. Right, of course," said the brunette, feeling very much insulted at having been interrupted at the beginning of a perfectly good rant. She began to pick up the various items they had been using, piling them on her arms, until she realized she was useless. "Parvus!" she said, using the spell to shrink the papers and such so they would fit into her bag. Harry walked over and turned off the small radio, then pushed their tables to the far side of the room, leaving just one in the very center. Hermione looked at Harry curiously when he stopped her from pushing the last one back.
"We have a tablecloth, we need a table," he said simply, making Hermione feel stupid for one of the first times in her life. He looked at his watch. "Where's Luna? It's almost time for the meeting, and the meeting can't happen without her!"
"Relax Harry. She'll be back in time. She probably found one of those goblins that Fudge had baked in a pie, or something."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, or she ran into Neville on the way back, and they ducked into an empty classroom for a quick-"
"Harry James Potter! Don't finish that sentence!"
"Sorry, Hermione," he said in a way reminiscent of someone apologizing to their mother.
"What would you do if I wanted to have sex with you?" she asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Just wondering, of course," she stuttered, blushing furiously. She hadn't meant to say that out loud, of course, and she was angry that she did.
"Well, I suppose I would – "
"Never mind, Harry, I didn't mean to say that at all. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into me this week. First, I –" she stopped.
"First you what?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Oh look, there's Luna now." Hermione was glad for the distraction. She almost told Harry about… no, that just wouldn't have been good at all. She half-sighed in relief that the focus had been taken off her.
"All right, I have the tablecloth. I think that's it. It's impossible to defend against a heliopath without a tablecloth, you know."
"Thanks, Luna. Would you mind doing me one more favor, please? There's some stuff I need to sort out, I really should've done it earlier but I wasn't thinking and… So, anyway, I figured that, with you being the D.A.'s personal expert on heliopaths and all, you'd be able to lead the lesson much better than I. So, will you?"
Luna suddenly looked very pleased with herself. "Of course, Harry," she said seriously. "Anything to help out."
"All right then, thanks. I'll just stay here and let everyone know about the little change of plans, and then I'll be off." He walked over to a corner of the room, where he had put his bag, and motioned for Hermione to follow while Luna was otherwise occupied (folding the tablecloth to precisely the correct dimensions). "Duck out after a few minutes, okay? I'll be waiting at the end of the corridor. Remember to bring the information, okay?" She nodded, and went back over to Luna while Harry stayed behind in his corner, pretending to cram all of his belongings into his bag, but was actually stalling.
When he saw that the room was beginning to fill up, he charmed his bag to the side of the room nearest the door (to make it easier for Hermione to leave unnoticed), and walked to the front of the room, where he normally taught from. He waited a few minutes, until he was sure that everyone was present, then spoke.
"This meeting will be spent learning how to defend ourselves against heliopaths, more commonly known as fire demons." He looked at Luna, who nodded in approval. "However, though this information is necessary, I don't have any sort of experience in the matter, meaning that it would be pointless for me to try and teach it. So, Luna Lovegood will be taking over for today, being an expert in the matter. Any questions you may have regarding heliopaths should be directed towards Luna; if there are any questions pertaining to other matters, ask me now. The next meeting will be – " He thought for a moment, trying to remember. "Tuesday at seven o'clock. If that changes, you will be informed. I have to attend to other matters, so I'm sorry but I have to take my leave." And with that he quickly exited the room, before anyone had a chance to protest or ask where he was going. He walked to the end of the corridor and, feeling very restless, waited impatiently for Hermione to meet him.
In no more than twenty minutes, the two were walking hurriedly towards the headmaster's office. They arrived in front of the large stone gargoyles and began to guess the password.
"Fizzing Whizbees"
"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans"
"Droobles' Best Blowing Gum" It opened. Slightly surprised that it had taken so few tries to guess the password, they rushed up the previously concealed stairs, anxious to speak to Dumbledore.
When they came to the door separating the stairs from his office, however, the two teenagers hesitated, unsure of whether to knock or simply walk in. They were spared from choosing, luckily, when the headmaster's voice came through the door, saying "Please, come in." They did as they were told, wondering how Dumbledore knew that they were there and at the same time not surprised at all that he did. "Good evening Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. Lemon drop?" They declined. "Well, then. I suppose you have some reason for this visit? Not that I don't enjoy your company, I assure you, but I find that seldom do students give up their free time to be with the headmaster."
"Er – yes Professor," said Harry. "As you know, we've been looking through newspapers, magazines, the lot of it, trying to find out about the Black Rose Queen. Almost every source we've checked has some mention of her, you see, and we wanted to sort the facts from the rumors, if that's possible."
Hermione chose then to speak. "Everywhere we've looked has basically the same information on her – none. Except for one –" she opened the bag and began sorting through it, looking for the magazine of interest. "Here it is," she said, pulling it out and handing it to Dumbledore, "The Quibbler."
"We believe," said Harry, "that the information in The Quibbler about the Black Rose Queen may be more accurate than most people believe." Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Trusting the Quibbler? "This makes us believe that Mr. Lovegood has some inside source of information. If you would allow us to go, I feel certain that Luna Lovegood – a Ravenclaw fifth year, I think you know her – would be able to arrange a meeting between her father and ourselves," he finished, gesturing to Hermione and himself.
"I, too, believe that there exists someone with more knowledge on this Queen than they are willing to divulge; if it can be arranged, go and do what you think you must. I would, of course, do it myself, but I'm afraid I cannot leave the school at this time. I'm still needed to assist with the recovery of Mr. Weasley, if it's possible." Suddenly, there was a loud humming noise coming from the headmaster's desk. "It's getting late," he said, tapping his wand on the desk and turning off the noise. "I'm sure you two have things that need to be done."
With that, Harry and Hermione left the room. Harry, always eager to hurry forward into whatever he thought should be done, wanted to go rush madly into the Room of Requirement and demand that Luna Lovegood immediately arrange a meeting between her father and themselves. Hermione, knowing what kind of blind panic would ensue if Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived and generally accepted savior of the Wizarding World, openly admitted his belief in the Black Rose Queen, a figure who could strike almost as much fear into the hearts of wizards as Lord Voldemort himself, grabbed Harry by a shoulder as he started to hurry towards the D.A. meeting room, stopping him short.
"Harry, you can't!" she told him as he whipped around angrily to face her, mad that she was slowing him down; he couldn't stand being interrupted in his quest to vanquish evil.
"Why not? Dumbledore gave us permission!" Dumbledore's permission actually made no difference to him; he asked simply to be polite.
"Because," she explained patiently, "if you make a scene out of it, everyone will start panicking and nothing will ever get done! I'll go back in there now and set it all up with Luna, alright? You go do something productive, like you Potions essay!" As a surprise to everyone (and, Harry thought, probably on Dumbledore's orders), Professor Snape had allowed Harry to take his NEWT level potions class – Harry despised the subject, but it was necessary in order for him to become an Auror as he wished. The potions master was no less spiteful than usual, however, so Harry ended up with a double load of homework almost every class. It was enough of a miracle that Harry was allowed to take the class at all; if he didn't do well, Snape would almost certainly kick him out, Dumbledore or not. Harry sighed softly and turned towards the Gryffindor common room while Hermione continued towards the Room of Requirement.
She was surprised, really, that Dumbledore had let them go rather than go himself, but Hermione supposed that he was right; he had to stay and help Ron. The brains that had attacked him in the Department of Mysteries at the end of the previous year had left him suffering from permanent magical damage; he was unable to perform any advanced magic without the help of a substantially more powerful witch or wizard. He was able to continue his lessons only with the assistance of his professors; if it weren't for Professor Dumbledore, he would be without magic altogether.
There had been some confusion initially as to what had actually happened to him, because he was completely fine for so long. But then his magic started to deteriorate, until eventually he could barely use "Lumos" without becoming tired. It had been decided that the thoughts that had attacked him were those of a squib, and the disease that had stopped them from developing their magical powers had infected Ron, causing him to begin to lose his. A cure was being researched, but it didn't look good.
By the time Hermione was done thinking over Ron's predicament, she had arrived at the Room of Requirement. She opened the door and stepped inside, quickly apologizing to Luna for leaving when she realized her lack of presence had been noticed. She took her place among the ranks of students and listened carefully to what Luna was saying, though she didn't believe a word of it.
Two hours later, after much confusion and several small fires, the students began to file out of the room. Hermione purposely lagged behind, glad that Luna had decided to return the now-singed tablecloth to the house elves. After what seemed like forever, but was actually about a minute, the room was empty except for Hermione and Luna.
"Luna, I need to ask you a favor."
Luna turned, her face indicating that she had thought herself alone in the large room. "Yes?"
"Your father is the editor of The Quibbler, right?" She nodded. "Harry and I – we need to meet with him, if we can." She gave Hermione a questioning look. "We have reason to believe that your father has information that we need. Could you, please, arrange a meeting between us?"
"I suppose…" she said in her usual dreamy voice.
"Thank you," said Hermione, a hint of awkwardness in her voice, before she left.