Under the circumstances it was impossible to be in any kind of bad mood. Not that Hermione was particularly prone to bad moods in general, but she could get caught up in a torrent of stress once in a while. Harry on the other hand, she knew, did have the occasional brooding day. Today, that wasn't the case. He was smiling, whistling as they went up to the third floor landing. She accompanied him and they waited in front of the empty portrait. Harry checked his watch. "Should be here any minute now," he said.
Phineas appeared in the frame, straightening his robes. "Good day, good day, fair inhabitants of Grimmauld."
"Hello, Phineas," Harry said. "So, how is everything?"
"Quiet," he answered, stroking his beard. "I know you wanted information, but really, there's not much to tell. If the Headmistress has talked politics with anyone it was outside reach of my ears, picturesque as they are. There was some talk of Assistant Professor Longbottom requesting to speak with her in relation to your new law, but then you said that might be the case."
Harry groaned. "Yes, Neville might not be as thrilled as his grandmother about our success."
"Seems to be," Phineas commented. "I doubt you want me recounting every slight piece of gossip that enters the tower. Filius has taken Sybil's death quite harshly. He has always been a… sensitive soul."
"Poor Filius," Hermione said.
"There was one rumour," Phineas continued, raising an eyebrow. "Hogwarts was getting a visitor, not an extended stay but I believe they were from abroad. Could be anyone I suppose. Always one hopeful chap wanting to dethrone Slughorn from his position. I dare say it will be many years still before he hangs his robes."
"We'll be on the lookout," Harry said.
"I gathered you had a meeting with the Greengrass daughters? Would you satisfy my curiosity on that end?"
"A favour for a favour, that's more or less what happened. Malfoy was involved, and we're waiting for news until we meet them again. If things turn out well, they'll be working closely with us."
"A political manoeuvre," Phineas said with a nod. "Well, I shan't take up more of your time. Do allow me to congratulate you both. A Lady of the House. You'll be wed soon? I wouldn't mind attending if you're willing to drag my frame around."
"Thank you Phineas," she laughed, "I don't know if it will so grand as to invite the past Lords Black."
#
Apparating into Hogsmeade, she was overcome by a sense of nostalgia. Despite how good they had it, she couldn't help but want for that empty space where they could have been together. But a dark lord and other more mundane issues had prevented that. She thought how fitting it was that another dark lord aspirant had been the catalyst for what she realised was now an unbreakable bond. They had discarded many things on their way here, but now they were here, together, standing at the entrance to Hogwarts.
Filius Flitwick came trotting to the gates on his short legs, clearly out of breath, and opened it for them.
"Hermione, Harry, come on in. Blast, it's just my luck that Hagrid has to deal with a problem at the greenhouses."
"A problem?" Hermione asked.
"A bunch of the plants died out because of a soil problem. Now they have to be carried out to compost. The Headmistress is busy as well, but Hagrid should be back soon. You can go wait in his hut if you want."
"Sounds good, Filius," Harry said.
The half-goblin teacher did seem a bit out of sorts, just like Phineas told them. Hermione just couldn't help but bring up the subject dangling in front of her. "Terrible thing, the loss of professor Trelawney," she said.
"Yes," Filius sighed. He looked wistfully to the towers of the castle for a while. "She always used to give me her share of Christmas pudding, couldn't stand the raisins. Now… well I got ONE slice this Christmas. It's all so overwhelming. If it were Slughorn breathing his last at least there would be six dozen candidates, but no… ah, poor Sybil."
"She will be missed," Harry said with a puzzled expression.
"Missed, yes. And how rare seers are, and how many charlatans among their ranks. Dumbledore had the eye to hire her, a real prophet at Hogwarts! Firenze only occasionally comes back out of the woods lately. Of course it's not the same with him. No, I'm afraid we'll have to look elsewhere. Bah! I don't even want to think of it."
They arrived at the hut, looking much like it always had with its garden patch and shutters hanging half off their hinges.
"I'll leave you now. Homework to grade. Busy this time of year! Take care!"
They watched Filius go in the direction of the castle and stepped inside. Cold soot in the fireplace and the spring sunlight shining inside. They sat down on a pair of stools and waited.
"Call me jaded, but I don't think Filius was broken up about Sybil for the right reasons," she said.
"Maybe it's his goblin side," Harry mused, "eternal gratitude for a slice of pudding."
"I don't think I've ever seen a goblin eat sweets, as a matter of fact I don't think I've ever seen one eat."
"Maybe we'll find one and put him in a cell with a slice of pudding, see what happens."
Hermione snorted. Not much later they heard Hagrid's loud thumping outside the hut. He beamed at them as he entered, covered in dirt. "It's so good ter see ya!" he said, enthusiastically hugging them.
"It's good to see you too, Hagrid," Harry laughed, and they sat down. "How are you?"
"Ah!" he cried, waving a hand and going over to a barrel to wash his hands. "Jes ruddin' bad luck in the greenhouses, I tell ya."
"Filius told us," Hermione said. "Some plants died?"
"It's Neville's gyrocacti! Professor Sprout said it could've been the soil, but 'e wouldn't be that careless. It's summat else, I wager."
"Wasn't he working on those since the start of the year?" Harry asked.
"Aye! Managed ter save some o' them sittin' in the shed, but I had ter take the rest to the compost heap. Still not done, but 'e's lookin' if he can salvage some more."
He served tea and sat down. He stopped mid-sigh and his beetle black eyes widened. "What's that now?" he exclaimed joyfully.
Hermione smirked and held out her left hand, showing off her ring finger. "We wanted to make it a surprise."
"A surprise?" he bellowed. "I'd say some bloody good news finally, pardon my language. So, tell me all 'bout it. You two fin'ly together."
"Finally?" she remarked. "I suppose it's been a long time in the making. Harry proposed on a weekend abroad."
Hagrid laughed and extended his arms over the table, easily jostling them by their shoulder. "I'm happy for ye! Really, remin's me Maxine and I got off to a bumpy start as well. Congratulations. Should get ya a gift or summat."
"Just come to the wedding, that'll be enough of a gift," Harry said.
"'Course I will! Wouldn't miss it fer anythin'." Hagrid, for that moment seemed the happiest person in the hut. He leaned forward and got a gleeful look in his eyes. "Me an Maxine're goin' on vacation this summer, off ter France somewhere with beaches."
"I'm glad things are going well for you too, Hagrid," Hermione said.
Hagrid checked his pocket watch. "I reckon McGonagall's still busy. Might have ter wait some more."
"Did something come up?" Harry asked, sipping his tea.
He sighed and shrugged his towering shoulders. "Let someone in this morning. She's supposed to find a replacement fer Professor Trelawney. Don't think she's a seer, didn't seem like the type. So she must know someone else that'd be willin' to take the job." He stroked his beard, narrowing his eyes at Hermione. "It's the uncanniest thing ye've seen. She looked a bit like you."
She looked to her left. Harry was frowning. "Was she really friendly with a fake sounding laugh?" he asked.
"'Spose she was, yeah, now ye say it."
"Hagrid," Harry said, standing up, "I think we'll go see Professor McGonagall now. And I'll owl you about the wedding. It was good seeing you."
"All right. Ye two take care. Password's 'entrelac'."
He hurriedly shook Hagrid's hand and walked out the door. She followed.
"What's the hurry?"
"This can't be good…" he muttered. "What, nothing for a year and now she decides to pay Hogwarts a visit?"
"Who?"
"Carlize," he said. "I doubt the ICW has anything to do with this. So who the hell does she work for?"
Some students were enjoying the weather. A lot of students were enjoying the weather with books and parchment sprawled around them in preparation for homework and exams. Their eyes followed the famous duo as they neared the castle's entrance to the Headmistress' tower. She'd rarely seen Harry this worked up, which made her wonder who this person was. It was no wonder that no one approached them with that look in his eyes.
He lost no time speaking the password and took the steps two at a time. The door was open. Inside, Minerva McGonagall was arranging some parchment on her desk.
"Ah," she said, looking up. "You're just in time. I just got done with an interview."
"Might I ask who with?" Harry said impatiently.
"A witch from the Americas, she said she had a candidate for the position of Professor of Divination. Carlie Becker was her name."
Harry snorted.
"You're acquainted?"
"She's ICW, or was. Did she leave?"
"She's meeting the other professors at the moment."
Harry grimaced. "Professor, do you mind if we postpone our visit? I'd like to catch her while she's here."
McGonagall said it was fine and that she had work to do, but before she finished her sentence, Harry was already out the door.
"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked.
He took a deep breath. "If you knew her, you wouldn't ask. The only reason Carlize does anything is to further her own self-interest. That, and she doesn't mind screwing over others to get there."
"This still doesn't explain why you're so nervous. What, is she as bad as bad gets?" She lowered her voice. "As bad as us?"
Harry laughed. "Fine. Remember Jeffrey? Well, I didn't tell you the whole story, because I promised I'd shut up about it. He was married. First night we're staying in a hotel in Paris' magical district. I catch an early night, and next morning I find Jeffrey at my door, nearly having a panic attack. Says he got drunk, woke up in her bed. His fault right?
"She held that over his head for the entire three months we were on our assignment. At first she was pleasant, friendly even. Couldn't count how many times she tried to play us against each other. Jeffrey told me she would be all apologetic one moment, then the next in public she'd treat us like dirt. You see what kind of havoc she could stir up at Hogwarts? What I'm worried about is her being here with an agenda, worse if that agenda involves me."
"Also," he said more quietly, "I think she used a love potion on Jeffrey that first night. He was really confused afterwards."
"She never tried anything with you?" Hermione asked.
"I'm sure she considered it, but thank the memory of Moody for teaching me to visibly cast a detection charm on my drink when meeting new people. Jeffrey was relatively trusting for an Auror."
"Where are we going?"
"The greenhouses. I don't really want to have that chat with Neville but I don't want her getting to him either."
They continued to the greenhouses, and Neville was there. A student stormed in before them, heading inside. The frustration of having to wait for school business was clear on Harry's face.
"Assistant-professor Longbottom," the girl said.
Neville turned, and briefly frowned at them before returning to the girl. "Miss Borgin, how can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you made up your mind about allowing me to retake my assignment."
Neville sighed and shook his head. "I know you're taking your OWLs this year, but homework is still important and your assignment was missing references."
"But it was all correct wasn't it?" she plead.
"Yes, most of it, but it's still a no. Just do it correctly next time, with references like I asked."
The girl grimaced and looked ahead to the remaining dead gyrocacti. "Yes, professor." She skipped out. Neville waited for the girl to leave.
"To what do I owe the visit?"
Harry sighed. "Neville…"
"So you read my interview. Good, I won't shut up about what you're doing just because we're friends."
"Look, I don't really mind if you do—"
"Well, I do, Harry." He looked at Hermione too. "Making the curses responsible for what happened to my parents—to your parents too by the way—legal?"
"Those crimes are still punishable by the harshest sentence."
"It's the principle of it! Remember that, principles? The Unforgivables were illegal for a reason, to tell people that they were unforgivable. Now they're just another spell."
Hermione, sensing she could intervene spoke. "Did a woman come through here?"
He was caught off-guard by the question and temporarily forgot his feud. "Uh, yeah, introduced herself. She looked a bit like you. A Mrs. Becker."
"Where did she go?" Harry asked.
"Slughorn's, I think. You know her?"
"She was ICW."
Neville crossed his arms, his interest clearly piqued. "Really?"
"Neville," Hermione interjected. "We kind of came for a different reason anyway. We wanted to tell you we're engaged."
It was a testament to their friendship that he could go from ticked off to jubilant at the mention of the news. "Bloody hell! That's really surprising—kind of—and great! When did it happen?"
"A few weeks ago," she said, smiling. "You're one of the first we told."
"Didn't know what to think about those articles in Witch Weekly, but hey, this time they print the truth. And a positive truth."
Harry put an arm around her. "As much as I'd like to celebrate… I need to catch up with this Miss Becker. You take care," he said turning away. "Oh, and a word of advice, check your drinks for poison around this woman."
Neville was left slightly baffled as they continued their mad chase. She wondered if they were going to keep being one step behind this mythical Carlize, or Carlie as she called herself now. And the talk of her looking similar was starting to get on her nerves. How much could two people really look alike without being related? They turned a corner to the dungeons and Harry stopped in his tracks. In front of them, sauntering on her heels was… someone who looked freakishly like her. Carlize, no doubt about it.
Finally, she understood. Her hair, while not as bushy, voluminously bobbed behind her. She wore mascara around her eyes and cherry-red lipstick. Her robes were just short enough to be distracting, and she wore a pearl necklace. There were differences. Her nose was slightly larger, her eyes were darker and her lips set in a dopey smile were more pronounced, but she definitely looked similar.
"Oh, look who it is!" she exclaimed in a deeper voice than expected. "Auror Potter and the famous Hermione Granger. Such a pleasure."
Harry stepped to intercept her. She grimaced.
"You can drop the bloody act now. I got to know you for three months, remember? Carlize, or Carlie, whatever your name is now."
Carlize looked past him at Hermione. "Fucking weird. So you did tell her all about me, then? Didn't know how close you were now."
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
"I don't think that's any of your business."
"The ICW's done I imagine, or you would've checked in for a debriefing or something, at least someone would have forced you to. So who are you? UAD?"
"Oh no, I've been found out!" she cried, miming fear. "Yeah I'm UAD, so what?"
"Figures…" Harry mused. "It is my business though, you being here. What is this about you bringing in a professor? What do you have to gain from this?"
"Just doing my job," she said in an accusing tone. "Like you said UAD, scratching the back across the pond, shit like that. Not that I need to explain myself to you, you're not the Headmaster last time I checked."
"No," he said. "I'm not the Headmaster, but don't think I couldn't get the Board to throw your arse out of here and whatever teacher you're bringing with you."
Her face twitched. "Well you can rest fucking easy then. I'm taking a portkey back anyway. I just have to chat with the faculty. I'm not staying."
"Good."
"Fucking drama queen…" she muttered, pushing past them.
She left, but Harry was still tense, evident by the set in his jaw. So she asked the obvious question. "Should we do something about her?"
Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. "We don't want the American Aurors to get more attention on us then they already have. Something happens to her, no matter what treaties or laws in place they'll be crawling all over Britain. Carlize lives to bitch another day, for now."
#
She really did have a portkey to take and precious time to meet and squeeze the professors for any information she could get just with a friendly conversation. Meeting Potter was just rotten luck. Obviously McGonagall knew, but she hadn't thought it useful to mention their visit. She'd have to report it with HQ, since it was a possible breach of her cover. But the assignment would most likely continue. It was unlikely for Potter to reach her in the States after what happened.
The talks were draining. The Charms Professor just had to go on for twenty minutes about the dead Trelawney, and one of the teachers was an actual ghost. She left him in the middle of a history lesson she never asked for. All of it just reinforced the impression she had that Hogwarts was just one big joke. You'd never find Ilvermorny in such a sad state.
She took the portkey home, to her flat in Manhattan where she had some time before her boyfriend came home. She bent over from the nausea that inevitably came with long-distance portkey travel and groaned. "Fuck…"
"How did it go?"
She turned around and spotted Mark laying down on the bed, waiting for her.
"Completely fucked," she answered, sitting down beside him. "Potter was there."
"Shit. This isn't going to kill the assignment is it?"
"Better not. Probably not. The Chief is pretty stubborn on this one. A golden opportunity, he says."
"Yeah well, fuck him anyway." Mark came to embrace her from behind. "We could just ditch it."
"Mark, we can't. We've been on this for half a year already, we're not going to toss our careers down the shitter."
"I don't like it," he said, tightening his embrace, "you being stuck with that fag."
"I know," she said, rubbing Mark's hand. "I know, and I hate it too, but please don't fucking hate me for this. It's just the job, it's nothing."
She waited with bated breath for his response. He relaxed. "Yeah. I know, but I need you right now."
"I—" They shouldn't. It wasn't safe. Her 'boyfriend' could come home at any moment. "Yeah, fuck it. I need you too."
These moments were precious enough, even when they were breaking the rules of their cover. So she enjoyed it, and made sure he enjoyed it. She had met Mark during UAID training, and unlike every other man in her life, he didn't hate her or bend to her. Five years later, they were dating, and barely a year after that, they were married. It had all gone so quickly, and then they got their assignment, which meant they didn't get to enjoy their budding marriage.
She got up from the bed and got to the shower, washing away the evidence of what had happened. When she stepped out, Mark was fully dressed again.
"Where's Rhonda?" she asked. "I thought she'd be glued to you this time of day."
"Went out with her friends, like I suggested. Getting real sick of that woman, always yapping. Yap, yap, yap, all day long."
She kissed him. "You better get going now."
"See you later," he said, kissing her back. "Maybe when this is all over we'll get that honeymoon we still haven't planned. Somewhere warm where we can get drunk all day."
"Sounds good."
With that, he left, and she wouldn't see the real 'Mark' for a while. The hardest part wasn't pretending, it was watching him pretend. But he'd been good to her, he'd been good for her. They'd make it through this, even if the assignment took longer. She sat down at the desk of her apartment and leaned her forehead on a pilgrim period magical fiction novel. Probably the only perk of her cover as an archivist was that she could pass most of the time reading brainless fiction.
A little while later she heard the heavy footsteps of her assigned target and boyfriend coming down the hall, and she put up the facade of not Carlize, not Carlie, not Elize, or Elaine, but Lisa. Lisa the archivist, the boring and kind little witch that had entered a relationship with the exiled wizard. She flipped open the book and started reading where she left off.
He stepped inside, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. "Have a good day?" she asked with a sweet smile.
"All right," he answered. "Bloody busy at the shop, it's really taking off like crazy. We got in a shipment of those raunchy fireworks but I don't think they'll be a hit. American wizards are a bit more prude."
"You think so?"
"Yeah, probably. Anyway, the candy and jokeboxes got sold out. George wrote to me he's thinking of expanding again, now that the money started flowing in."
"How is your brother?"
"Yeah. All right."
Ronald Weasley didn't talk much about back home, except for his brother and apparent partner in the business. He'd been very closed off about what happened with Granger, his ex, and now Potter's girlfriend. He almost never talked about his parents, and he got a sad look in his eyes when she had asked about his father. But she'd break him, and find out whatever secrets he was hiding. The United States Auror Intelligence Department would get what they needed, a leg up on the new order in the British Isles.
When she got that, she and Mark would be set in the department for a higher position. It was a good deal, an easy task, even if it was terribly aggravating. She needed the break after the disaster with the ICW Hit-Squad. Sometimes she wondered if this was a good use of the department's time, but the higher-ups had honed in on Potter ever since he got struck down in Romania, even more so after his political involvement. Ronald Weasley was their golden ticket to get to know more about him. Clearly the Chief of the UAID knew more than he let on. Harry Potter was making waves, waves that got picked up way across the Atlantic.
#
The Order met near the end of April, all for a big announcement Harry had ready. They also had a change of venue. Nothing more inconspicuous than a basement hidden under a latch in the middle of the North York Moors. It was magically lit, not extremely spacious, but what better place to discuss their future than under the portrait of Ignotus Peverell, the man who had preceded the Potter name. More so, it was another show of good faith to introduce them to his secret find.
There was a table in the middle of the room where they found the altar with the hidden tome, surrounded by five chairs. Mathilda arrived first, shortly followed by Alfred and Ginny. Five glasses were set on the table.
"Well, this basement's a bit dreary," Ginny said.
"It used to be home, at least part of it," Harry answered with a smile. "I called you here to discuss some good news."
"Did we make the trip just to get a date for your wedding?"
"No," Harry laughed, "no date yet. I think you'll enjoy this news much better."
"The date is planned for the assault on Azkaban," Hermione said, stepping forward.
"That's soon," Alfred said.
"Timely, more like," Harry remarked, and opened a bottle of chilled champagne. "The inauguration for the Azkaban Guard is happening on June 10th. That's when we'll make our move. I've been told a lot of retiring jailers will be attending, and a few former ones will be inaugurated. So it will be very lightly guarded."
"The Council?" Ginny asked, the excitement clear in her eyes.
"I've gotten a message to them. They will portkey in at an agreed upon location off the coast. From there we fly low until we reach Azkaban, take out the broom patrol and then the guards inside. It will be as easy as can be."
"Are we still catching heat?" Mathilda asked.
"No," Harry said. "I haven't gotten a whiff of Carlize or any Americans, even from our black market contacts. All quiet on the western front. Whatever she was doing, she's gone for now. Let's have a drink. We'll be nervous enough as the date comes closer."
They drank, a toast to what was to come, the burning of Azkaban. Mathilda was quiet, which was no surprise. She came to the meeting but that was the extent of what she could do in this situation. It was one concession Harry didn't mind making. Maybe the destruction of the old prison would erase some of those torturous memories for her as well. He had a feeling they would need their full strength in the future.
"So," Hermione said, as they were to the side next to the altar. "Who are we doing this for then? Just Ginny?"
"Not just," Harry said softly. "There are a lot of our former enemies in there. I don't want to be negative, but if we end up making more, at least they won't be able to gang up against us. Them being dead is a benefit to all of us."
"That makes sense."
"Also, it's kind of our big debut."
"Our debut?" she said with a frown.
"I guess, in the history books, at least since our awakening, even if I'd rather they never pin a name on us."
"If you must brag about it, do it in your memoirs, posthumously."
Harry laughed and pulled her close. "I might have you proof read it first, or, you know, just have you write the whole thing. I've never published as much as a joke in the Quibbler."
#
AN: There's a reason for the PoV changes, I hope it wasn't too confusing. I thought to do it differently, but it flowed nicely. Sorry about the break and short chapter after so long. It's a bit of a peaceful moment in the story and I'm focusing on showing it how I want to show it.
