Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Lily tells Hermione about her projected book, and the two girls find more common ground.

Chapter 3: The Relevant Issue

"I suppose it's still the same now," Lily began. "I can't believe things have changed much. Everything changes so slowly in the wizarding world. It's still the purebloods, the halfbloods, and, if you'll forgive the expression, the mudbloods."

Hermione shrugged. "The expression has been thrown in my face a few times. Voldemort's supporters all believe in pure blood. They think muggleborns are ruining the wizarding world."

"Well, are we?"

Hermione started to object, and then stopped, confused.

Lily raised her brows. "You see. Everyone's full of opinions on the subject. People say they know one thing or another, but it all comes down to a childish "Is so!" and "Is not!"

"But it's ridiculous! Not to boast, but my O.W.L.'s---"

"And that's my point! One witch doesn't prove anything. Someone who doesn't like muggleborns would use someone else who didn't do well as an example, and consider you an aberration. You may have a true opinion, but you haven't offered any hard evidence." Lily tapped her quill against the parchment on the library table. Hermione decided it was a mannerism that bespoke a thoughtful mood. Lily, after considering how to continue, went on. "My father's a teacher, and you know there's always some new study or other about education in the muggle world. He asked me if I knew of any proper research done on muggleborns in the magical world, and when I looked into it, I found there wasn't—there were only a lot of silly opinionated books with nothing behind them." Lily paused a moment, and asked, "Do you know if my parents are still alive?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think so," Hermione confessed. "Harry's never said anything about any grandparents."

Lily looked rather sick. She sighed, and tapped her quill again.

"Anyway, what matters is proving the impact of muggleborns on the magical world. It wasn't that hard to design such a study. There's plenty of data: the Hogwart's registry gives parents' names, and it's possible to track down if they're purebloods or halfbloods or whatever. We have O.W.L. and N.E.W.T scores going back centuries. Further examination of the birth registry indicates children of Hogwarts graduates and whether they were invited to study at Hogwarts or not. Once I buckled down to it, it wasn't that hard to start compiling figures on whether muggleborns had lower scores or were giving birth to more squibs."

"Were you doing this in Professor Binns class?"

"Oh, no! It was an independent project for Muggle Studies. I know it sounds silly, a muggleborn taking Muggle Studies, but my schedule was such that it was that or Divination, and I couldn't stick that. (Hermione nodded sympathetically) It was just a preliminary report anyway, using the last ten years of O.W.L and N.E.W.T scores, but I was going to continue work on it, and put something together for publication after I graduated, and had some academic credibility." She sniffed. "Apparently, I was distracted." A new thought occurred to her. "Do you suppose the boy knows what happened to my notes?"

"Harry? Not very likely—and from what I heard, the whole house was destroyed when you—I mean—when his parents were killed."

"All that work….."

Hermione was still waiting. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What did you find out? Are muggleborns the bane of the wizarding world or not?"

"Oh, that! Well, it was impossible to say for certain, but genetically, it seems probably not. There was no obvious difference between muggleborn and purebloods in squib-producing, but the test scores for muggleborns tended to be slightly higher."

Hermione flushed with self-vindication.

"Of course," said Lily, "It was only a very slight total variation, and it might not mean that muggleborns are uniformly better students or more magically powerful. There's more to it. Further study seemed to indicate that the muggleborns who actually come to Hogwarts have manifested magic very strongly prior to entry—and most muggleborns never study magic at all."

"Why?"

"Well, think! A lot of muggleborns have parents like my sister, who hates magic. Or they think its all a silly confidence trick. Or they're very religious, and they think it's evil. From what I gather that's always happening in the States. Why else are there those outbreaks of hysteria, where parents say their children have been abused by Satanists? Every year, scores of young witches and wizards around the world are killed by their families, sometimes during exorcisms. That's why in the States and in some places in South America and Africa the wizarding authorities have a policy of removing talented children from abusive homes, and those children simply vanish from the muggle world. They didn't do that here at Hogwarts in my day at least, though. Has it changed?"

"I don't think so. But when Harry first got his letter, the Dursleys destroyed it, and the Headmaster had to send hundreds more letters, and then finally Hagrid to deliver one."

"Well, the Headmaster really must think he's special, because I happen to know that the usual policy is to send one letter and then drop the subject. Occasionally they send out Obliviators if the family starts kicking up a fuss. In short, my girl," Lily looked at her significantly, "muggleborns don't even get to Hogwarts unless they come from supportive, liberal-minded families—the sort of family that would create a predisposition to for the child to do well, in any school."

Hermione thought a moment, and then said, "Purebloods also complain about the corruption of wizarding customs, and about security—"

"With that last they may have a point. I haven't looked into that yet. It would be interesting to track down serious security breaches and see if any of them had any real impact. I'd need Ministry approval, though, for that—"

"And that's not likely," said Hermione, tartly. "The Minister of Magic is an idiot. Last year he sent a representative to take over Hogwarts and she was the vilest, wickedest creature—" Hermione felt a flash of rage, remembering the odious Umbridge. "I'll tell you all about her someday. She was the worst person I have ever known—even worse than the Death Eaters, because she seemed normal at first---anyway—let's not get into that now. I hate thinking about it."

"Well, let's talk about someone more pleasant—like Severus Snape," Lily suggested.

Hermione made a face. Lily laughed.

"Oh, don't go all Gryffindor on me. Severus is all right. We've been partners in Potions since the beginning of the year. A new policy of inter-house cooperation. It hasn't worked for everybody, but in N.E.W.T potions everyone's serious enough about the class to make an effort. None of Potter's gang is in the class, thank goodness. Severus is sort of odd-man-out, even in his own House, so I think he likes having someone to chat up on his favourite subjects." Lily smiled mischievously. "I never thought he'd grow up so—interesting, though. The other night he was quite impressive in the black robes, sweeping about ever so grandly. He wasn't so tall when we were in potions together. He really does the tortured Heathcliff thing rather well, I think. And his voice!"

Hermione curled up on the window seat, hugging one of the cushions. "Heathcliff! I see what you mean. But it's Heathcliff from the later part of Wuthering Heights, after he's lost Cathy, when he's all twisted and cruel and horrible."

"And did he?"

"Did he what?"

"Lose Cathy! You know more about grown-up Severus than I."

"I don't know if there ever was a Cathy."

"That could be just as bad, I suppose."

Hermione had been thinking about the picture and the library, and a new idea struck her. "This is a bit of a non-sequitur, I'm afraid, but can you read any book in the library?"

A little at a loss at the change of subject, Lily-in-the-picture stared at her, and then said, "Well yes, I suppose so. I hadn't thought about it. You must understand that time isn't the same for me. It really seems like I've been here only an afternoon, but from watching you I can see it's different outside. I'm still reading the book I had when I was being painted by Master Praetorius." She held up a smaller book hidden inside a larger magical tome. Hermione peered closer, and saw that it was Pride and Prejudice. She beamed, delighted to so unexpectedly meet another fan of Jane Austen in the environs of Hogwarts.

"I love Jane Austen too. Nobody else here has ever heard of her."

"Have you ever read what passes for a wizarding novel? The most awful trash. They tend either to be feeble, insipid romances, or gruesome tales of curses and lurking horrors—and not at all well-written. The purebloods go on and on about Turlough Niggle, but his stories are out-and out thefts from Poe and Lovecraft."

Hermione had given this some thought. "I suppose the wizarding world is so small that there's not a large pool of talent. And when a person has magical talent, it would be too much to expect them to have artistic talent as well. Their excuse for music is pretty grisly, too. What about this Master Praetorius?"

"Well, he's the exception that proves the rule. I'm surprised you haven't heard of him. He's one of the few magical artists working now. There was quite a drop-off after the invention of the magical camera in 1871." Hermione secretly vowed to do some research. Lily went on. "The Headmaster brought him in to paint some places in the school: the library, the great hall, the quidditch pitch, and a few others." She leaned toward Hermione confidentially. "I think there was something special about the pictures—something linking them to the magic of Hogwarts. I was chosen pretty much at random to be in the library picture—or at least, only because Master Praetorius liked my hair, and needed people to be in the pictures for scale purposes."

"Did it take long?"

"The sitting? No, only a few hours. But," she said, "it wasn't like sitting for a muggle picture. His paints were more like potions. He used samples from the library—a bit of dust, of book bindings, of ink and parchment. And then he wanted samples from me, and that was not so pleasant—hair and nail clippings, and some skin from my cuticles were no problem-- but then he also wanted some blood, and then," she said, with a look of distaste, "he insisted on removing a little of one of my back teeth."

"Eew," managed Hermione, thinking of her dentist parents. She was also uncomfortably reminded of the spell Voldemort had used at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament to reincarnate himself .

"Anyway," said Lily, "that tied me to the picture, because Master Praetorius said it was useless to have a person in a painting for scale, if that person were to go wandering off. But I think," she said, weighing every word, "that it also made me very much---me."

Hermione was fascinated, determined to find out what kind of potions and incantations were involved. A long conversation ensued, continuing late into the night. Lily wanted to know everything about Hogwarts, the wizarding world, and the muggle news. She wanted to know the date, and who was Prime Minister, and if the Prince of Wales had ever married. They discovered mutual interests in ancient Egypt, in museums, and in the books of J.R.R. Tolkien. Hermione had never talked so much at a stretch, and felt herself growing hoarse.

With a shock, she finally became aware of the time. Reluctantly, she said, "I must get back to Gryffindor Tower."

"You'll come back, won't you?"

Hermione gathered up her belongings. "Yes, of course. We have so much more to talk about." They both laughed.

"Please don't forget." Lily-in-the-picture seemed very anxious. "Come back as soon as ever you can. And bring some recent Daily Prophets and a muggle newspaper, too. If you hold them close enough I can read them. Time has gotten so far away from me!"

------

Hermione cracked open the painting and peered out cautiously. Slipping away, she was struck by how eerily silent the castle could be at night. Echoing footsteps resounded faintly, and she was startled by odd shadows, but her luck held good, and within ten minutes she giving the password of "Longbottom Leaf." (Neville had not understood the reference, but had been pleased when Hermione had proposed it.)

It was late, and the common room was empty but for Harry, slumped in a chair and gazing off into empty space. Ron had told her that Harry's sleep was constantly disturbed by nightmares and visions. It was hardly surprising that he submitted himself to as little slumber as he dared. Earlier in the year, Hermione had urged Harry to ask for sleep potions, and had been rewarded with a furious tirade for her pains. His mood swings were worse than ever.

She wondered if she should tell him about the painting, or even show it to him. Lily-in-the-picture was not Lily-who-was-Harry's-mother. The girl in the picture was a sixteen-year-old student, engrossed in her studies, friendly with Severus Snape; and she despised the boy she would someday marry. No, thought Hermione, struggling with the paradox. Lily-in-the-picture will never marry James. She hasn't even shown any interest in Harry. After all, he's not her son.

Hermione murmured a good night to Harry, who nodded absently, still intent on the nothingness before him. She crept into the dormitory, trying to be considerate as she shivered out of her robes and into her pajamas. Alone in her bed, listening to the soft breathing of the other girls in the room, she herself looked into the darkness, searching for answers.

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Notes: I will be out of the country for awhile, and will not be updating for a week or two.

Thank you to my kind reviewers: Jalen Strix, Lady Jenilyn, Silverthreads, Foodie, duj, Elflame, and Lady Margot!

Next chapter: The Cunning Plan: Lily becomes dissatisfied with her lot, and considers a change.