Mid-November

Hogwarts

Hermione tried hard to fit in, to laugh at June's silly puns or to let Fidelma fix her hair much like Parvati had always wanted to do back in Gryffindor tower. Her utter lack of cultural references from 1970's Wizarding Britain made it difficult. She had never been very interested in Wizarding culture and now what she knew was a generation off. Her parents' LP collection, which she'd raided occasionally during the holidays when she was bored enough, was too Muggle to work as a point of reference. Hestia and Evie were kind but she could still see the questions in their eyes, even if they never pried.

Being in their final NEWT year, the classes were largely shared with all Houses, the exceptions being Charms, Herbology and Transfiguration where classes were large enough to split in two. As such, she got to know a few people from other Houses as well.

There was one Ravenclaw who seemed to show up everywhere. Bertram Aubrey was in a lot of her classes, including Arithmancy, Charms, and Herbology, and he often joined the Hufflepuff study sessions in the library. He was good-looking, certainly, with long brown hair and a body sculpted by Quidditch, an easy smile and white teeth. Rhea and Fidelma both appeared to have crushes on him, but he didn't look their way very often.

To her dismay, she also saw someone she hadn't thought about for a long time. Gilderoy Lockhart didn't share any classes with her, being a fifth-year, but the smarmy blond Ravenclaw was as obnoxiously boisterous as he had ever been as a teacher, and it was impossible to avoid seeing him during shared meals in the Great Hall where he often put on a show for his House-mates.

She also spotted Barty Crouch Junior, now a sixth-year Slytherin. The sight of him made her shudder, remembering what he had put them all through as a Poly-juiced Mad-Eye Moody.

"He's bad news, that one," Hestia confirmed quietly over lunch when Hermione asked her about him. "Was friends with a couple others you should look out for, but most of them have left Hogwarts now. Mulciber, Avery and Snape, Crouch used to tag along whenever they were up to something. Him and Travers are friends, I'm sure they're going to join You-Know-Who as soon as they're out of here."

Hermione nodded slowly, taking note of the other boy as well, a rather nondescript brown-haired Slytherin. As if he'd sensed her looking at him, he looked up and sneered when their eyes met. She quickly averted her eyes, busying herself with another sandwich.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

"Can we go to Hogsmeade this weekend?" June asked while they were eating lunch a few days later. The weather had been poor the past week but it was supposed to be a bit better over the weekend, with only the occasional shower instead of incessant raining and strong winds. "The kids went to Hogsmeade last weekend so it won't be as crowded. We could shop for Christmas gifts and have a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?"

Hestia was quick to agree, and Hermione thought it over. Going with friends, but without the clamour of the whole school on a Hogsmeade weekend, sounded like a good plan. "You won't drag me into Quidditch shops all the time? Or the joke shop?"

"Zonkos? Nah, not my thing," June said. "No Quidditch either, promise. Just don't spend all day in the bookshop?"

Hermione grinned. "Fair enough, I'll join you."

It was fun to get to do normal things again, she thought as the group of girls made their way down to Hogsmeade. Evie had also tagged along, so there were four of them. Despite it being late November the sun was out for once although the many puddles on the road bore evidence of the amount of rain they'd had recently. June dragged them along to Dervish and Banges to look at gifts for her father, and then Hestia voted for Pedrus Pridgeon's Pendants to look for some jewellery for her sister. After that they made their way through Scrivenshaft's via Spintwitches for Quidditch supplies, and then to Tomes and Scrolls and the tea shop nearby, before finally ending their trek at the Three Broomsticks for some Butterbeer and lunch.

"Thanks for dragging me along, I've had a great time," Hermione said to June who smiled over her Butterbeer.

"No problem, you needed some fresh air," Hestia said.

Evie nodded. "Yes, you're one of us now, you know?"

Hermione smiled again, feeling her heart warm at the thought. "Thanks."

The others were chatting about other students and their classes, much as usual, while Hermione was content just to listen to them.

On their way back Evie walked with June ahead of Hermione and Hestia. "Maybe one of these days you'll even trust us with your true story," Hestia said quietly. "I know there's more than what you've said."

Hermione felt her heart sink. Would she have to run, leave Hogwarts? If Hestia thought there was something odd with her story, would others? "I can't, not yet. I'm sorry."

To her relief, Hestia merely nodded and went on to tell her all about her odd relatives that she'd be celebrating the holidays with, and after a while Hermione started to breathe again.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next Saturday they were eating breakfast in the Great Hall when a large brown owl she didn't recognise flew straight for her. She fed it a piece of bacon and took the letter off its foot. When she saw who it was from, she asked it to stay a little longer so that she could write a reply. The bird hooted in response.

"Who's writing to you on a Sunday, Hermione?" Hestia asked and yawned. It was early and the Great Hall was only half full of students, many choosing to sleep until the last minute or skip breakfast in favour of a lie-in.

"A friend," she said absently and rooted in her bag for a quill and some parchment.

The short note was from Regulus. Need to talk — can we meet in Hogsmeade? — R.A.B. She shivered when reading his initials, recalling where she'd last seen them — in the locket — and wondering if she'd ever get used to the oddness of having lived through events that were yet to happen.

Luckily there was a Quidditch game that afternoon so most of the school would be busy. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were playing, but her dormmates had all planned on watching. One of the Ravenclaw chasers was really hot, June had declared, although Hermione suspected Evie had a thing for one of the Gryffindor beaters. The November afternoon was grey and windy but at least it wasn't raining even if the skies were overcast.

She donned Harry's cloak anyway, having waved Hestia and Evie off by saying she needed to study and write some letters to old friends. Sneaking off the grounds was easy, the gates were already open with no one guarding them, a big contrast to her earlier school years.

Hogsmeade was quiet but there were some people out on the streets, out shopping or running other errands. She pulled the cloak off since the wind was making it hard to walk in it, and cast a Disillusionment and a Notice-Me-Not charm over herself instead, not dropping them until she'd made it to Hog's Head where Regulus was already waiting, seated in a booth with a pint of ale.

Regulus looked pale and nauseous. "He's done it, Hermione," he half whispered.

Hermione was confused. "Done what, Regulus?"

"He took Kreacher and went to the cave, just like you said. He said something about it being no loss and a great honour and something else, and then Kreacher returned at night, almost dead, he'd been poisoned. I saw the locket when he fetched Kreacher, Hermione. It felt evil." He shuddered and looked aside, lost in thought.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was happening, the events she knew from before. "It was a test of your loyalty. Did you save him?"

Regulus nodded and sipped his ale. "A bezoar and general antidote. I can't ever thank you enough for the warning. I don't think they would have worked on a human but a house-elf is different. I don't know why he wanted Kreacher and not one of the Malfoy elves, we only have him and Dusty, not several like the Notts or Goyles or Rosiers?"

Everything was starting to swirl in her head, the past events, the potential for disaster, what needed to be done. It was too much to work out, too much responsibility. "Be careful, alright? Don't let him see you upset, don't talk about Kreacher. We need to destroy that locket but for now it's safe where it is. There are more objects, we need to get them all."

Regulus nodded, looking slightly better already. "I think it would be good to ask Kreacher to bring us just outside the cave, just in case the Dark Lord kills him later. I don't think he was meant to survive."

She hadn't thought of that, which made her both nauseous and embarrassed at the same time. "You're right. Think we can go now?"

He looked uncertain but then he suddenly stood up, determined. "Let's go. I can Side-Along you to our summer country residence if that's alright with you? I won't ask him to come here, it is easier if I call him from a place we own."

Hermione almost snorted. Summer residence? But of course the Sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-blood family had a summer residence. She nodded, anyway, and stood up. Together they exited the pub, failing to notice the black-haired wizard who followed their path with a glare from his seat in the back corner.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

As soon as they were outside Regulus reached for her hand, and they were off. They landed on a gravel path in front of a small manor house in dark brown brick with a slate roof. It looked a bit dilapidated, as if no one had bothered caring for it for at least a dozen years. The gloomy overcast skies didn't help the impression much, and neither did the lawn which hadn't been properly cut or weeded in a long while.

"Black Hall," Regulus muttered. "Mum never liked it up here in north Lancashire. We used to come here during the summers but our other house-elf Dewey died so we didn't have anyone to properly care for the place and she forced Father to have us stay in London instead once I was about eight or so."

Hermione nodded and pulled her arms around herself. The place gave her the creeps, for some reason. "Okay, try now."

"Kreacher?" Regulus called.

With a groan the old house-elf popped into view. He looked much the same as when Hermione had last seen him, old and gnarly and wrinkled, but his toga-like clothing was cleaner. His eyes widened when he saw her and he flapped his ears toward her in what almost looked like a polite greeting in Elvish. Hermione nodded at him, a bit nervous.

"Master Regulus," he rasped, still not quite recovered. He bowed at his young Master and then turned to face her again. "And young Miss Mudblood." He said it calmly, almost as an honorific. "Old Master Black has talked about you, he has, when no one was listening. He said that Kreacher must helps you, and that you will helps young Master Regulus."

She nodded. "That's right, Kreacher. I'm Hermione Granger, it's nice to meet you again. I'm glad you survived."

Kreacher's eyes widened. "She knows, does she? Yes, she knows."

Regulus cleared his throat. "Kreacher, we would like to know where that cave is which he took you to. Would you please be able to take us there? Just outside, not all the way inside."

"Bad, bad cave." Kreacher groaned and started coughing. "Bad man takes Kreacher down, down into a cave. There's a boat, Master. Only one wizard can rides in it or the dead will takes you. And the potion… it burns, Master. It still burns."

"I'm so sorry, Kreacher," Regulus said. He sank down to his knees and reached for the scrawny elf who reluctantly let his human pat his shoulders. "He's a bad, bad man and we'll try to stop him, but we will have to go back to the cave. Could you please take us to some safe spot near the cave?"

Kreacher frowned. "Master won't go into cave? Master swears it?"

Hermione didn't have time to stop him. They needed to go, at some point.

Regulus didn't hesitate, anyway. "I swear I won't go into the cave today, Kreacher."

The elf frowned and looked at his Master but after a while he nodded. He reached for the two of them and with an almost unnoticeable pop they were deposited on a windswept hill overlooking the ocean. Large foamy waves hit the rocks below and some seagulls were chasing something only they could see, their cries sharp in the wind. Hermione took out her wand and started casting a subtle detection spell. There was a clear aura of malignant magic in the air so they were obviously in the right place, but Hermione hadn't joined Harry when he had gone with Professor Dumbledore and had to go on what she remembered him telling. Inferi, she knew, and a boat and a doorway which required blood to open.

"It's down there," Kreacher pointed. "Evil, evil, evil. You has to climb, and swim maybe, and climb again."

"We will take out the evil," Hermione said. "Not today, but we will get it."

The old elf turned to her again. "You will protects Young Master Regulus? You will take down evil Lord?"

"I will, Kreacher."

He looked at her as if he was passing judgement. "I will helps you if I can, young Miss Mudblood Granger. If you needs help call for Kreacher or the Hogwarts elves, they will tells Kreacher."

Hermione took a deep breath, the tang of the sea filling her lungs. "Thank you, I am honoured, Kreacher of House Black."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

November/December

The Workshop

Severus was busy finishing another couple of orders. Warrington was out somewhere and Vulchanov was working on his Apprenticeship research in the office. He'd worked nearly non-stop since delivering the potion to the Dark Lord, and even stayed at the workshop during weekends. There was no point in going back, anyway, with the house empty.

He tried not to think about seeing Hermione and Reg dash off together from Hogsmeade, but of course that just meant the thought kept coming back. It hurt, like a splinter stuck in a palm, wedging itself further in when he least expected it to. He'd only been there to deliver potions from his Master and pick up some ingredients from Dogweed and Deathcap, and had stopped at the Hog's Head for a beer before going back. Having seated himself at a table at the back he hadn't noticed Hermione and Reg until later when they were about to leave, and so he didn't know what they had been talking about.

Severus met up with Reg again the following Thursday after work, at the Wicked Witch where they had met before. He was the one who had suggested another Occlumency session when it was clear they wouldn't be called on a raid, but it wasn't only with the aim to practice. He attacked without warning as soon as they were seated, pushing through Reg's defences. He saw the Black's elf Kreacher, a few scenes with Orion and Walburga Black, but nothing of interest.

"What's wrong with you?" Regulus asked, frowning.

"Again." He dove in without asking and tore through the forest Reg had created, looking for clues. Where was she? Hermione. He knew wanted, nay needed, to know why they had met up. Were they secretly dating?

He didn't manage to find anything, and Reg who had gotten gradually angrier with him in return didn't manage to breach his defences either.

"Enough!" Regulus half shouted and threw Severus out of his mind again. "What are you doing?"

"Good job," he muttered, feeling off kilter.

"What was that, mate? A test?"

Severus shrugged. "The Dark Lord won't play nice." Well, that much was even true, he thought.

Regulus deflated. "True."

Feeling out of sorts and slightly embarrassed Severus tried to salvage the rest of the evening by ribbing Regulus over the quality of the Prophet's printing charms. From there they moved on to a new Charms article Reg had read, and gradually things began to feel normal again.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

A week or so later he'd finished his older self's Occlumency notes. The advanced techniques added several layers of complexity to an already difficult art, but he was determined to succeed.

What is a memory?

I have studied what I could find, and there isn't much to go by. The Magical community has an abysmally poor understanding of the mind and how it works. Most of what they think is outdated or just plain wrong, although there are strong tools at our disposal with Obliviations, Confundus charms, Imperius and other such spells. Muggles, as it were, are not much better, but at least they have a framework for that which they don't understand in their scientific approach.

Memories as we think of them, a recollection of an event or a series of events, involving that which we have seen, heard, felt or otherwise implied, are more complex than we give them credit for. They are usually fuzzy, skipping or twisting details, inherently skewed without us noticing. You need to learn what memories look like if you are to succeed in altering them. Try it out on others, both willing and unwilling targets, learn what is the fabric of a memory and what details people tend to gloss over.

You should also work on how to hide a memory within another memory or mental structure without making it obvious. This is hard to master alone so you'll need to have someone test you, repeatedly. Start out small. Hide what you had for breakfast inside a memory of yourself in Transfiguration class. Don't go for the obvious hiding places, such as books or fancy objects. Choose the table, or the bench, or the window. A painting you only see in passing, perhaps. Make it subtle. What you're actually doing here is to create a link between the two memories which then allows you to bury the real memory deep, deep within your mental landscape, severing all connections to other events but the one in the other, unrelated memory.

A Pensieve would be a very useful tool for playing around with memories. Unfortunately they are expensive, and rare. I doubt you will be able to borrow the one at Hogwarts which I have used to good effect over the years, as hopefully you will not have to take up teaching Potions to dunderheads.

They met up for another few training sessions at the pub. He didn't let Regulus see his older self's notes directly but they discussed them when they met up to practise. Severus felt slightly smug over gaining the upper hand in something difficult, through his own efforts even if indirectly. They immediately started playing with the structure of memories, and how to layer them within each other.

Lies, then.

I think all of us know what a lie is, but what makes for a successful lie? And moreso, how do you lie to someone who can see into your mind?

As you probably have deduced already, you need to lie to yourself. You need to make the lie so believable that you believe it despite knowing it is wrong. It may be that someone said something they actually didn't say, or that you omit certain details when the memory is seen by someone else. Keep it close to reality, as close as you can, but think carefully of what message you want the Legilimens to find. Be subtle about it, unless of course the situation warrants blatant displays. Changing the inflection of a sentence, omitting a word, altering the direction of a look, all of that can be of use to you.

An easy way to spot a lie in someone else's mind is to see them trying too hard. The memory is too much, too detailed, too coloured, and the events are too detailed and too elaborate. Usually people are piss-poor liars, though, since they aren't versed in the Mind Arts.

Nevertheless, you have to master this to survive your current Master, and the one potentially coming soon. Play with it, but the real test is not until you get your mind invaded by someone who is looking for what you are trying to hide.

The main obstacle once you've mastered the basics is, however, not so much how to create believable lies but how to keep track of the truth. Sometimes I have used the memory extraction method, storing memories externally. This comes with its own perils, since the true memories are now accessible by others by use of a Pensieve, but if an event has been too emotionally charged it may be a suitable option. Once you have extracted a memory you are left with a vague shadow of the event in your mind, and this you can fill back in with inconsequential details and store somewhere else. For minor alterations, I haven't bothered with this. I've used a set of small details to remind myself that the memories are false or altered, such as a book in the background or other such details that then work as a link to the true memory. You need to make it obvious to yourself but not in any way noticeable to an intruder, since that is the whole point of the lie. You also must make sure to remember both sets of stories since you need to make sure to react to the people in whatever story you just wove in a fashion which is consistent with either the truth or the lie, respectively.

It's complicated, and something most people will fail in, with rather poor results. It is a dangerous game, trying to outwit the greatest Legilimens of this era, and one which will have disastrous consequences should you fail.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

During the next Death Eater raid Severus got close enough to the intended target to attempt to use Legilimency on him. The wizard was Muggleborn and apparently guilty of opposing the Knights of Walpurgis at the Ministry somehow. The Dark Lord had assigned Severus to the team that was to capture him, led by Yaxley, and Severus had taken the chance. With a silent incantation he dove in, without telling the others about his attempt.

The man's mind was a jumbled mess, with images and impressions leaping out at him from every direction permeated by fear. Scenes from the Ministry, his family. He followed the strands of fear to other, older memories, including one involving Crispus Mulciber, Abraxas Malfoy and Cygnus Black cornering the man in an office at the Ministry, but didn't focus enough to hear what was being discussed. Latching onto another strand he found himself overseeing two children playing outside, when another member of the Knights of Walpurgis — showed up and leered at them. More family-related memories showed up and the love and affection made Severus nauseous. Was that really how it was supposed to be?

He pulled back out, reeling. His brief tour through the target's mind had shown that whatever else he had done, he was innocent of whatever the Knights of Walpurgis were trying to frame him for.

Yaxley pushed past him, his wand trained on the wizard. "You ready to confess now? Crucio!"

They left not long after, with their target in a mess outside his home and nothing much gained in terms of information. He would live though, Severus thought. Probably. He was still shaken from what he'd learnt. He wasn't used to seeing their targets as people, with dreams and hopes and fears like everyone else. With a shake of his head he pushed the memories and thoughts down, deep behind his Occlumency shields.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Early December

Hogwarts

December had arrived without much fuss. They had a bout of snow which shrouded the grounds in a fluffy white layer before it melted again a few days later. There was another Quidditch game, and with Hufflepuff playing she once again found herself in the stands, daydreaming about other things as the players whizzed back and forth. If she squinted a bit she could almost see Harry there, flying after the Snitch, or Ron guarding the goalposts.

Her studies weren't boring, not exactly, but she didn't put as much focus and energy into them as before after catching up with everyone else. She still found the pace to be too slow, too easy for most subjects, and she no longer strove for double the length of requested essays. Studying with the Hufflepuffs was nice even if she probably could have finished everything faster on her own, but it was a low-effort way of getting to know her housemates.

A lot of her spare time was spent in the Arithmancy tower. Her equations had taken off, at least, together with Professor Vector. Hermione fervently hoped she hadn't made a mistake, but nothing pointed to Professor Vector being on the wrong side of the current conflict. It was just hard to be sure, not like with Regulus Black or Severus Snape even if the latter still was an active Death Eater. She did find it a bit odd, how she had an easier time trusting him with sensitive information despite knowing of his loyalties than she had with Professor Vector.

She'd lined up the information she had from before, about Horcruxes, major events and the various people she had known, and asked Phineas to spy… report on what Professor Dumbledore was up to. Adding to that information gleaned from various sources such as the staff room, the Hufflepuff common room, and the Daily Prophet, they tried to make the picture clearer. After re-reading the Headmaster's old notes it was clear that they needed to start acting soon. Very soon the war would heat up and people would start dying. They were still in that uneasy stage of not-quite-aggression, where conflict simmered underneath the surface but without many traces of it in mainstream media or people's minds in general, but Hermione was all too aware of what was due to come.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

"Hermione? What are you doing for Christmas?" Evie asked as they were getting ready for bed on a weekday evening. The end of term was only just over a week away.

June looked up from the issue of Witch Weekly she was reading on her bed. "Are you going on the Hogwarts Express with us?"

"Yes, I'm taking the train," Hermione said. She'd planned to go to Spinner's End for the holiday. Severus had agreed, or at least not protested when she wrote him earlier.

"She's probably going to head back to Hogwarts anyway. Not like she has a family to go home to," Rhea said to Fidelma, loud enough for Hermione to hear.

The sheer pettiness made her angry. She didn't know where she'd gone wrong this time with them, or why she couldn't end up in a dorm where everyone would just get along. Rhea especially seemed to be annoyed with her while Fidelma merely ignored her.

"I'm staying with a friend." Well, that was nearly true, anyway. She still didn't know how to classify her relationship with Severus Snape in this timeline.

"Didn't think she had any," Rhea continued. Fidelma smiled and looked away.

"And what is it to you, anyway?" Hermione asked, going up to the others. "Why do you care what I do or don't do? Don't you have anything more important to worry about, like not failing Charms for example?"

"Some of us do have families, Granger," Rhea drawled. "Proper ones. Pure ones."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Evie snapped, moving in front of Hermione.

"Oh, just saying," Rhea said airily.

Hermione stalked out, not bothering with a reply, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Apparently she wouldn't be free of prejudices this time around either.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

It was a relief when term ended and the Hogwarts Express whisked them all off to King's Cross station again. Coming back to Hogwarts had been odd, trying to fit in without making it obvious that she knew more than she let on about the Castle and Professors, and making new friends in a new place. She had shared a train compartment with some of the Hufflepuff students and had enjoyed herself more than she'd expected to. Well, Rhea was a bit of a cow, and she still didn't understand why.

A bit wistful she watched the others being picked up at the station by their families. She waved good-bye to Hestia and June together with Evie, who then dragged her off to meet her family. Hermione gave a start when she saw Kingsley there, looking younger and less weary but still as extravagantly dressed, now in green and golden robes that made his dark skin glow. His smile was as big and bright as she remembered, though.

"Kings, this is my new friend Hermione," Evie said, still not letting go of her hand.

"Hi," Hermione managed.

Kingsley nodded at her and reached out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, sis has been writing about you."

Hermione blushed. "Really? Hope nothing bad, then. Erm, likewise."

"Mum didn't come?" Evie asked her brother.

Kingsley shook his head. "Nay, you're stuck with me, sis. Come on, we're heading home to pack and then we have a Portkey to catch tonight."

Evie had told her earlier that they were heading to New York to visit relatives over the holidays, and that her brother had managed to get time off from his Auror training which he was due to finish next spring. Hermione smiled and waved them off before turning on her heel, away from the remaining stragglers. She Apparated to Spinner's End, feeling oddly relieved when she approached the shabby two-up, two-down on the dilapidated street.