Hermione packed her bags knowing she'd need enough to spend one week with Neville and then they'd be off to see her grandparents. The whole lot of them, sans Lady Longbottom, would be taking a muggle plane to Paris and in a hired car they'd go south to the Granger's family farm. Even Sirius planned to join with Harry. Fred and George, when she'd invited them at the beginning of summer seemed ecstatic at the idea of flying in a metal cylinder with wings.
Her parents, who'd usually just drive and take the train to Normandy, suggested this as a way to expose the wizard born children to some of the mid-century muggle technology. Planes had been around for ages, but the fact they weren't even mentioned in Muggle Studies didn't bode well for anyone. If planes weren't even conceptualized how could magicals hope to understand satellites, remote sensing, and the modern military surveillance which thrived on the idea of watching your neighbors? Her parents had the right idea. The campaign would start with showing the Blacks, Longbottoms, and Potters that flinging metal through the sky and seeing everything beneath was very much possible.
When she and her bags arrived in the floo entrance to Longbottom manor an Elf greeted her, but was only halfway through his greeting when Neville burst in and grabbed her up in a hug. He hugged her so tight and slung her around so many times Hermione wondered if she was the first guest he'd ever received. He set her on the floor and looked down at her. He had grown. Despite her being three years older he was now a head taller. When he realized she only came up to his chin, Neville ruffled her hair and laughed when her hands flew to protect it. Her hair had enough to deal with thank you very much.
He grabbed up her bag, swung it up on a shoulder which was suddenly a lot taller than her own, and trotted off. Excitedly, he explained facets of his family's manor as he walked.
Hermione had expected it to be like the Black Manor. While it was just as expensive and elaborate, it kept to a simpler design. More money had been spent in barns and greenhouses and forestry stewardship. All of the food they ate here came straight from their lands and a large portion of the produce got sold off to Hogwarts and Diagon Alley's grocers.
Neville dropped her bag outside a dining room with a clumsy tumble, she winced, then he dragged her in and pulled out a chair for her at a long table with so many dishes she thought there must be more guests coming. There weren't. This was all for the four of them. The old man across from her looked leathery and aged under a lifetime of sun. He was introduced to her as Uncle Algie.
Neville then went on to explain where each bit of food on the table came from. Hermione's cheeks lifted in amusement. He was so animated, she was delighted for him. He went on and on like a wound up chatter box. Hermione snuck glances at Lady Augusta Longbottom, and while Neville talked to the table she imitated how the Lady sat, how she ate, how she gave that interested look between the occupants at the table that let them know she was paying attention to all of them. Hermione had finally finished her seafood soup and salmon before she found herself tugged out of the grand dining room, up two flights of stairs and got a tour of the assorted feminine guest rooms.
"Pick one!"
"What? I'm supposed to choose between the lavender en suite or the sky blue princess set? I don't think they're up to my standards. You really should stop living like peasants."
He swatted her, just barely missing as she dodged. Hermione poked him back and then had to run away when he lunged. His legs really were unfairly long. She had to work twice as hard to stay ahead of him. The lights floating around the halls and out into the elaborate out buildings led the way as she ran and spun away, laughing and teasing that he should have gone on those early morning runs with her. It was a sham of course. He'd nearly caught her thrice before she found a way out of the tailored gardens and into the workers' sheds. Apparently she hadn't been the only one keeping to a training regime, because she only made it to the first barn before he tackled her into a pile of wheat till.
"Oof," the words she was going to say got all the air taken from them as they fell. The teenage boy's weight and his odd assortment of sharp joints landing square on top of her. She wheezed, "Neville."
She ended up picking the Blue Mediterranean themed room. It was apparently the third option of approved rooms which was appropriately distanced from the male teenager's. Hermione rolled her eyes when she heard that explanation from her beet red blushing friend. He hadn't stammered so bad since he'd asked her to help him find his toad on the train. She patted his arm just the same as she'd done then.
Reassuring, "Of course Neville. It's alright."
He blushed harder, "Gran's old fashioned and she knows you've been working under Flitwick. She said she doesn't want the lower half of my body hexed off before I can make myself useful."
Hermione cackled. Neville just looked more mortified.
"I really, really love your Gran."
"Good. Tell her that so she'll stop making a fuss. I swear I'm never going to get any girl's attention if she acts like this. Can you imagine what will happen when I bring someone I'm actually dating?"
Hermione was too amused to feel empathetic. It was such a funny picture. Yes, yes she could imagine what Augusta Longbottom would do. The girl, if she were to survive, would have to be utterly unflappable.
She didn't expect her second dinner with Lady Augusta Longbottom, Neville, and his great uncle Algie to be interrupted with post dinner arrivals. Apparently neither did her hosts, but all of them stiffened and looked at each other.
"The wards? But who?" Neville asked.
"Oh they shouldn't have. It's the seventh evening from their summons and they show up without so much as a letter. The ungrateful-"
Augusta Longbottom had slammed her chair back, clearly unhappy with her dinner being interrupted unannounced. Still speaking to them and expecting them to follow the woman moved like a force. She stormed through the dining room, through the complex set of halls designed for spell defense, and into the receiving room. Neville and the craggy uncle scampered after. Apparently they were as certain as Hermione the woman was about to skewer someone and they weren't going to just sit there and do nothing.
Hermione jogged after them. Neville and hers friendship had cemented a solid alliance between Longbottom and Black, and Hermione was now obligated to fight along side them if it came to that. Not as if Hermione needed prompting. Neville was one of her best mates, the kindest and most loyal person she'd ever met, she wouldn't just leave him. Though it was nice to know she wouldn't be getting Sirius into a tight situation by being here amidst whatever trouble was brewing.
"Weasley!" The old matriarch's voice snapped out, ringing through the halls. She might be old, but she'd moved so fast she easily beat the younger members to the receiving room.
Beside her Neville grabbed her arm and ran. Neville and her arrived just as Augusta Longbottom drew her wand and aimed it at two red haired men. She snarled, "You are not Arthur Weasley. Where is he?"
"I am William Heir of the Weasley House. This is Charles Heir of the Prewitt House. On behalf of ourselves and Fredrick and George Weasley we are here to apologize for the lack of response from our Lord father. We have no excuse or explanation for his dismissal of your summons, but in his stead and on behalf of the future Weasley generations to come we'd like to offer our services to House Longbottom."
Hermione stepped around Neville to get a look at the tall red heads. One was burly with muscle and burn scars. The other lithe, long haired, and sporting a tooth earring looking straight from the mouth of some animal. They bowed deep in a style Hermione didn't recognize and they stayed bowed, not lifting their eyes or heads.
The notion, "And heads may roll," came to Hermione just then. Nervous, she looked at the still angry Lady Longbottom. She licked her lips, hoping for the sake of her friends that this fracturing of an allegiance wouldn't come down on them. Fred and George were good people. They really didn't deserve to be stuck in this. The young men in front of her didn't deserve to be stuck in this, their heads left on the literal chopping line because of the mistakes their parents had made. Financial and political trouble always roll down hill.
Augusta Longbottom was silent for a single long minute. The young men remained bowed throughout. For a world still assigning parliament seats based on family and allegiances, the outright tossing of such a thing in someone's face was a punishable offence and few other families would risk reaching their hands out to help the Weasleys if Augusta Longbottom decided to toss them aside. Oh Arthur, what have you done? Hermione couldn't help but wonder.
"You will tell the rest of your family they are no longer welcome in my house. Their stay on my lands is dependent on their behavior moving forwards." Augusta Longbottom took a large breath in. Her nostrils flared. "Going forwards I will deal with you two or your two brothers. The orchards your family tends will have to be renegotiated. I'll expect a letter from you by the beginning of September's harvest."
What happened next led to a long, confusing night for Hermione Jean Granger. Where Hermione got to see a fealty ritual fully equipped with a runic blood letting to fortify an old, shaky allegiance. She had not expected it to be so barbaric looking. Barbaric wasn't a good word for it either. It was just such a strange sight to her seeing the slicing of an animal's throat, drinking its blood, and burning the body to nothing but ash. She really should have expected it. Neville's family raised and slaughtered animals. Augusta Longbottom's robes were covered in the ash of a burning sacrifice and the flames grew three meters high as the ritual of rights completed.
Compared to the Black family magic this didn't sit quite as comfortably within her, but perhaps it's because Sirius got to her first. Sirius' magic had woven around her and through her so easily, mingling with her own, she hadn't expected hers to change at the contact. Perhaps it was a stronger hold because she'd agreed at such a young age to be Speaker Black. It wound itself inside her, changing her, refining those features and strengths she'd already had and magnifying them with the leanings of the Black family. Everyone around her seemed unaware of her inner turmoil. Clearly she was the only one who felt the magic spinning around them in a vortex felt odd. It was so nature based, like the earth and wind came together and made them as they were in this field.
No, not barbaric. What a terrible word people used to describe something different, something powerful. These were the sort of practices which enabled the Longbottoms and everyone who worked with them to feed all of the magical United Kingdom and a good portion of its muggle population as well. Powerful was the word for it.
Neville stood silent and solemn next to her. He muttered, "Only four members of the Weasley family will be allowed into the wards. Unless you want Ron or Ginny hurt, don't try to floo them through. Gran's spitting mad at the rest of them. She's not charged them tenant fees for years and it's like a slap in her face. I wouldn't even bring up the Prewetts if I were you. Better just steer clear of the whole topic till she calms down."
That night was by far the most exciting thing to happen during her stay with them. The rest seemed so calm Hermione wondered if Augusta Longbottom regularly planned wars. Because that's exactly what it was rearing up to be, a civil war. Neville and her spoke of it in the dark hallways when everyone else had gone to bed and before the Elves enforced a strict "No Being Alone In Bedrooms" rule. Their hushed conversations of what they'd heard from his gran and Sirius coalescing into a grim picture. The politics of this had been building for decades, starting from Grindelwald and Dumbledore's campaign on the continent and with emotions rising ever since. People were upset and things were about to burst.
In comparison her days were filled with sunshine, gardens of epic proportions, and botanical exhibits to rival the Queen's. The Longbottom's had apparently always been a horticulture powerhouse and it showed. The lands and variety of production were vast. So large, when Neville had shown her the various maps of land use and planned plots they'd made for the next decade Hermione's eyes had widened. They owned a significant region of England, both muggle and magical. It was little wonder the house was so large or why Neville spent most of his free time tending plants and training staff. The house itself felt alive, positively blooming in the summer season. It felt alive to her in the way Hogwarts felt thrumming with life during Yule. It was sacred. Even the manor itself didn't just feel like a place people called a home. It had its own passion and ties to the land.
Hermione loved Neville's house. Well, if something this large and sprawling and staffing a hamlet's worth of farmers could be called a house. Neville tugged her along the fields and orchards, showing her how great his new wand performed all of Professor Sprouts' soil and harvest spells. Her favorite thing about Neville's house was the unfettered near 24/7 access to his gran. Having been well trained by Professor Snape to not be a know it all, she tried to keep her observations as discrete as possible. Hermione remained quiet, watching, cataloging as much as she could to take back and study later.
However, by the fourth day of this the towering woman took off her favorite vulture hat and demanded, "Sit girl. Ask your questions."
The woman didn't suffer fools, but she answered a full nine questions of Hermione's before she declared she was going to take her afternoon nap. Hermione gulped the rest of her now chilly tea, bid her a good rest, and skipped out. Neville met her in the hall and the two of them ran off, ran off, boisterous and getting louder and louder as they went.
Unfortunately, her intense study of Augusta Longbottom's mannerisms was cut short on her fifth day there. Seemingly riled by Neville's newfound energy for life and Hermione's general enthusiasm over the breakfast table, the woman smacked down her Daily Prophet and gave them an uncompromising itinerary.
"You are going to visit the vassal houses, you are going to offer to help them with chores, and if they turn you down you will spend time with their children. You will not return to the house until 18:00 this evening."
Having been properly kicked out Neville followed the order at a clipped trot. Hermione jogged to catch up. Turning to her friend to question him.
"We're visiting all of them?" She remembered the maps of various family holdings they rented to tenants. There were hundreds.
"Naw, just the vassals who live nearby."
"Who?"
"The Diggorys, the Lovegoods, and what's left of the Weasleys I guess. Come on, we'd best do as she says. Last time gran had to interact with Xenophilius she nearly blasted him through the greenhouse."
They stopped first at a little tower Neville called the Rookery. A man with white hair answered the door, sat them down for the strangest tea Hermione ever had, then proceeded to tell them all sorts of outlandish things the ministry may or may not have been getting up to. Hermione and Neville shared a look, asked questions where they could, and offered to help around the house. Niceties out of the way, the man shoved a tiny female replica of himself at them and shooed them out the door.
Next they wandered, little barefoot girl in toe, to what Neville called the Burrow. From a distance she could see the red heads spilling out the door. One of them clutching their growing antlers and three more following with laughter and some dubious spray coming out of an old fashioned perfume canister.
"I'd avoid the gas." The two older ones turned back to their shadow.
"Oh?"
"There's a time delay on it. The antlers are the start. When Ron jumps in the pond, he'll discover this."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, but seeing Neville take this prediction at face value, she too decided to backup into the Orchard's treeline. As she watched Luna's prediction come through and play out exactly as predicted Hermione thought having a divination expert at hand might be very nice for reference. She promptly turned and held out her hand.
"I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you."
"Luna Lovegood."
The twins, once they'd tested their new creation and were rewarded with a stag walking forlornly around their quidditch pitch, they were almost boastful while answering Neville's questions on the plants they'd used. Neither Neville or Hermione said anything when it became clear the ingredients had been filched from Longbottom lands. The Longbottom in question didn't seem to mind in the least.
He listened, sat on the grass at the pond's edge as the twins explained the uses of the various plants if prepared different ways.
Luna surprised all of them when she noted, "Your wrackspurts, when they're happy and not causing havoc in your thoughts, reduce plant growth time in half."
"What?"
"Wrackspurts. The creatures who float around your head and mess with thoughts."
Hermione having already witnessed one impossible display from the girl today whipped out her wand and carefully enunciated the long incantation for Flitwick's creature tracking charm, ending with the name "Wrackspurts".
Fred, George, and Neville jumped when pastel green light floated from her wand's tip and flew towards their heads. She looked around and every single person in the vicinity showed positive for the tracker charm. They all had wrackspurts.
"Mother Morgana." One twin sputtered.
The other twin elbowed him, "Don't let mum hear you say that. Shit on a stick is much more polite."
"Oi!"
Hermione giggled then looked over at the future Lord Longbottom. The young man looked starstruck, as if Luna had just farted out sunshine. Hermione giggled harder. Neville may be in the beginning throws of love, but when he turned and saw the look she was pointing his way he had enough presence of mind to swat her.
It's the twins who tell them they overheard Molly and Arthur talking this morning over coffee. Apparently there was an Order of the Phoenix meeting last night and three of its best members resigned. Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Moody. That Madam Bones had taken over the horcrux hunt and made her Aurors make an unbreakable vow not to participate with or help the Death Eaters or any other vigilante or activism groups without express permission.
Hermione knew at Sirius's request the Auror Office was busy scheduling it's staff in preparation to search the Black Estate of homes. They'd be looking through all 15 properties of them in the British isles for horcruxes. He also spent the last two Wizengamot sessions pushing for the legislature to allow an emergency search for horcruxes through any bank volts and properties of Riddle's followers and sympathizers. Hermione wasn't going to go into all that here. The details and more risky plans involving that search still gave her a headache, the sort of thing she didn't want to talk about outside of a warded room. But other details which were public record, those she could speak freely about. She did feel comfortable telling the Black Allies this much.
"Lord Black had Harry speak with Madam Bones about the diary. The aurors reviewed the memory. Due to how it interacted with Harry's scar they're certain it was a horcrux too. Bones is furious with Lucius Malfoy. And now she's in charge of tackling that issue, hunting them. Lucius Malfoy has been searched. It looks like other places will be as well. Their reasoning is if one Death Eater had a horcrux, there might be more hidden away. Lord Black is helping, if you hear anything suspicious please owl him."
Then the twins turn their eyes to her.
"Miss Granger," Fred started.
George cut in, "Or should we say Speaker Black."
They continued the double speech, "Tell us how our beautiful. Intelligent. Not quite so rule abiding. Potions Mistress is in cahoots. With Notorious. Dangerous. Sirius Black?"
Neville and Luna seemed interested to hear this as well.
She was firm, "If I tell you you can't tell anyone."
"Course not! Not you!" Cajoling affirmation.
"I'm serious. Only Harry knows. You can't tell your parents, siblings, Dumbledore, or anyone."
"Right right. We vow on the sanctity of our good looking asses. We won't tell."
Neville rolled his eyes, but murmured an agreement to Fred's declaration. Luna had the most serene smile on her face. The younger girl was looking at Hermione as if she were certain the two of them would be the best of friends.
Luna's soft voice chimed a promise, "I won't tell. Not even Papa."
"Last year I had to use something which allowed me to take extra classes. It's why I'm older. It also gave me some time to help Hagrid get a trial. He was thrown in Azkaban twice without one and still is banned, from using a wand, you know? Even though he's a teacher and the farthest thing from being a danger." She shook her head. Still so easily riled about the issue after all this time. It was perhaps worse as the lawyers office said some high ranking bureaucrat kept getting "the halfbreed's" trial pushed back. As if they thought Hagrid wouldn't be able to afford to keep paying the lawyer. Well Hermione had talked to her parents and they'd chipped in. The lawyers would be paid for Hagrid's trial even if the delays took a year longer. They'd make sure he got his time in front of that court like every other wizard had the right. She noticed her little audience of friends were captivated. Luna had a knowing look in her eyes. Hermione smiled softly at the young girl. Yes, she thought they'd be good pals the two of them. The twins gawked, looking wide eyed and waiting. Neville twisted his hands in the grass, holding himself still.
Hermione summarized, "Well in the middle of all that I was abducted by Sirius Black."
Even though he'd been cleared they'd all lived a year in fear of the name and the soul-sucking creatures the ministry set loose to find him. Neville may have new confidence, the twins may be brazenly silly, but they looked at her in horror. It was public knowledge that while Sirius may have been an auror, he was deadly with a wand. From an incredibly dark leaning House whose children were spoon fed black curses. The sort which would make anyone's intestines twist till they rip out. Her friends had good reason to be white faced and wide eyed.
"Are you ok?"
This came from Luna. The girl was looking at her with concern as if she could see the entire year's worth of grief, see it simply from sitting next to Hermione by this pond. Hermione suspected she might see exactly those details. The same way Winno and Gladrag could see details most wizards couldn't. Luna Lovegood saw things, true, deep, and pointed details which normally might make everyone uncomfortable. Hermione was relieved she didn't have to explain it all. It really had been terrifying and exhausting to live through. From the trio's abandonment, the stress classes and Flitwick's sometimes brutal teaching methods, to worrying about Hagrid, to her near heart attack by being apparated to a cave and threatened by someone on the verge of losing his mind, to the secrecy, capturing Pettigrew, to watching horrific things in the trial. Hermione's breathing was a bit shorter and more ragged than before. Her chest expanded and collapsed and expanded again. She gave a shaky smile.
"Ya. I'm here. I'm mostly fine."
"Well what happened then?"
Hermione found the more she shared her burdens the easier they were to carry. However, she was sad to note the happy go lucky atmosphere from earlier had all but evaporated. The twins had a serious set to their shoulders, a thinking face shared between them that wasn't at all mischievous or playful. Neville sat facing her, but must be thinking something else entirely for how far off he stared.