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Chapter Nine
Politics
Harry turned to look with everyone else. Sure enough, Percy Weasley was striding across the lawn, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. Alongside him strode the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, who limped slightly as the snow settled onto his mane of hair and cloak.
Before anyone could react, the back door opened and Percy entered. There was a painful moment of silence, before Percy finally cleared his throat, "Merry Christmas, Mother." He said stiffly.
"Oh, Percy!" said Mrs. Weasley, throwing herself into his arms, sobbing.
Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on a walking stick and smiling slightly as he observed the scene.
Harry turned to Faykan who was also watching, but narrowed his eyes of suspicion as the man started to speak.
"You must forgive this intrusion," he said slowly, scanning the room and looking at each individual. "Percy and I were in the vicinity… working, you know… and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."
Harry understood what Faykan had suspected immediately. There was no way that the Minister himself and his secretary just happened to be out working where said secretary's family lived, and where the 'Boy-who-lived' was reported to be staying.
This feeling was compounded when Scrimgeour's eyes rested on him far longer than anyone else. The man also seemed quite insistent on only being there briefly, resisting all offers to sit or partake in their meal, sticking to the story of Percy wanting to visit. It had to be farthest from the truth, as Percy seemed to not care in the slightest that any of them were there.
"…We've only looked in for five minutes or so…" the Minister was saying, turning back to the door. "I'll just have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well if anybody cared to show me your charming garden… Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"
Everyone suddenly froze, glancing between Harry and Scrimgeour. Personally, Harry wasn't surprised in the least that the Minister came all this way to have a talk with him, even without the tipoff from Unspeakable Bode.
"Yeah, all right," Harry said, uncaring about the awkwardness that surrounded him.
Faykan put a hand on his shoulder, and whispered, "Take care around this one, Kentano…"
Harry nodded as he stood. He wasn't fooled in the slightest. If Scrimgeour wanted information from him about the secret actions of Voldemort, Dumbledore or himself, he had something completely different coming.
"Wonderful," Scrimgeour said, standing back to let Harry pass through the door ahead of him. "We'll just take a quick turn around the garden, and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"
Walking stiffly across the yard, Harry waited for the Minister to speak his mind, eager to at least hear the man out before shutting him down. His anger at the news of the Ministry's desire to pull him into their scheme had long since ebbed away, in no small part to his sudden and strange detachment from the everyday events around him.
Harry had asked Faykan about it, but the boy had offered no explanation, but said he would look into the matter when he had time. "Charming…" Scrimgeour said as they stopped at the garden fence. The man was watching Harry out of the corner of his eyes, so he chose to say nothing in response.
"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," the Minister finally started after several moments of silence. "Did you know that?"
"Yes," Harry responded softly, hoping to move the man along towards his point.
"Ah… well, Dumbledore had been very protective of you," Scrimgeour said, stumbling at Harry's answer. "Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through… especially what happened at the Ministry…"
Harry refused to respond, despite the man pausing as if expecting his words to strike Harry in some way. "I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but Dumbledore has, most understandably as I say, prevented this."
Still, Harry said nothing, waiting.
"The rumors that have flown around!" Scrimgeour continued, smiling to himself. "Well, of course, we both know how these stories get distorted… all these whispers of a prophecy… of you being 'the Chosen One'…"
Harry could hear the sarcasm in the man's voice. A strange thought that wasn't his own brushed through his mind, 'fools mock, but they shall mourn.' Turning slightly, Harry could see Faykan peering out of a window at them. Was it his imagination, or was Faykan acting as though he could hear their conversation.
Scrimgeour caught the small movement and looked as well. "A strange little fellow, your friend there, but incredibly loyal," he said offhandedly, before returning to his slow plodding toward the point of his visit. "I assume Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?"
They were very close to the point, Harry felt, but chose to continue playing along a bit longer, "Yeah, we've talked about it a bit…"
"Have you, have you…" Scrimgeour said, still playing very disconcerted and aloof. "And what has Dumbledore told you, Harry?"
"That's not really of your concern, is it Minister?" Harry said, deciding to finally drop the naiveté and be up front with Scrimgeour. "What is the point you're driving at sir? Something about wanting me to 'join up' with the Ministry, or back your current actions or something I presume."
Scrimgeour looked taken aback slightly, but recovered quickly, "People believe you are 'the Chosen One,' you see. Many seem to think you're quite the hero, which of course you are Harry, chosen or not! The point is; you are a symbol of hope for many. And well, it would help the Ministry out a great deal for you to stand alongside the Ministry, to give everyone a boost of courage."
Harry considered the offer for a moment. Siding with the Ministry would allow him access to greatly help the wizarding world, but at what cost, and what would the Ministry actually have him do aside from just being a figurehead?
"No," Harry said before he even realized he had answered.
"Excellent, we'll just… what?" Scrimgeour said, pausing as he realized that Harry hadn't given the answer he wanted.
"No, I don't think that'll work Minister, I don't agree with some Ministry policy, and I believe that I've chosen the side that will win the war against Voldemort."
Scrimgeour said nothing for a moment, but his expression hardened instantly. "I see," he said, failing to keep anger from his voice, "You prefer, like your hero Dumbledore no doubt, to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?"
"If you want to see it that way," Harry replied, his confidence building. "I like to think that, so long as we're on the same side, opposing Voldemort, we would remain natural allies. But I will not fight by your terms. Voldemort made this war personal to me, and I will do everything in my power to stop him, regardless of public opinion."
"Some would say it's your duty…" Scrimgeour tried to counter, but Harry overrode him.
"Don't dare try to speak to me of duty Minister, I know my duty to the people, and as far as I see fit I will fulfill it. I will defeat Voldemort, or die trying. I am the Chosen One, whether people like you believe it or not. And I will take battle to the dark forces wherever I find them," he said, before added threatening "be they within or without."
Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes at Harry, but he glared back, refusing to back down. "So be it Mr. Potter. I see you are made of sterner stuff than most." Scrimgeour said, turning back to the Burrow.
"Minister," Harry called back, making the man turn, "take heed of my words, when this war is finally over, and victory ours, we will need men of stout hearts and keen minds to lead. I sincerely hope that you are still around to be one of those men, as you are one of the more honest of Ministry workers I've met."
The man nodded silently, and Harry joined him as they returned to the house. "You very nearly persuade me to abandon the Ministry and join your crusade Mr. Potter," Scrimgeour said softly as they opened the door, "but my duty takes me in a different direction."
"Then I hope our paths may cross again," Harry said, stepping across the threshold and held the door for Percy. He waited until the pair of them disapperated at the edge of the property before rejoining everyone at the table, refusing to comment on what transpired between himself and the Minister in front of the entire Weasley family.
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Draco stood with the others, a few days after a splendid New Year party at the Weasleys, in front of the Burrow's kitchen fireplace. The Ministry was permitting students to Floo directly into the castle for safety concerns, but Draco was uncertain why they chose now instead of at the beginning of term to start caring about safety of the students in transit to the castle.
Mrs. Weasley was there to see them off, the rest of the clan having to be at work that day. The woman had been very distraught since the older son, Percy, had arrived with the Minister. Draco had not paid much attention during the boy's visit, but he knew that it hadn't ended well between him and his siblings. The fallout hadn't affected Draco personally, as he had mostly kept to himself, listening and learning from the memory of Eldarion Telcontar, learning of his ancestry and the duties that would be expected of him after Voldemort's defeat as the heir of the mighty house of Telcontar.
It was somewhat staggering to him still, that he, Draco Malfoy, young heir of a minor house of moderate political power, was in fact the long awaited heir of the Kings of the West, of the line of Númenor. At the Mage-King's request, Draco had sought out any history book or legend about the old kingdoms, but sadly he had found little. He did discover that the tales of old Atlantis matched the history of Númenor exactly.
This heritage was why, despite Mrs. Weasley's concern over what the staff may think, that Draco had chosen to forgo the traditional Hogwarts uniform, and wore the tabard and colors of the House of Elendil, with Andúril proudly at his side and the mighty tree of the reunited kingdom magically stitched into his cloak. He would, by no uncertain terms, declare his allegiances now, and that he sought to claim his birthright the throne that had for so long been left vacant. Not for power, but for justice over all the wrongs of their world.
As the Floo flared into emerald life, Draco smiled as he thought about what a change had come over him in his six years at Hogwarts. Before, when he was an impressionable child, he was dead set on becoming exactly as his Father, and controlling the Ministry from the shadows by whispering orders to the ear of whatever man filled the top job. He had never considered ruling in the open, seen by all, and even less to do so in justice and equity for all beings, magical and nonmagical, creature, wizard and muggle alike.
One by one they stepped into the flames, shouting "Hogwarts" and vanishing from the Weasley's humble home. As he reemerged into Professor McGonagall's office, the woman glanced at him momentarily, before double taking. Speechless at his attire, she merely indicated the door of her office, where the others had clearly gone. Draco nodded his thanks and departed without a word. There was no one in the castle who could dispute his claim, nor his right to wear the colors of his lineage.
Ron was nowhere to be found when he exited Professor McGonagall's office. Harry, Hermione and Faykan had waited, but Hermione had a sour look in her face. "What's wrong?" he asked, inwardly guessing.
"Lavender appeared to take 'Won-Won' back to Gryffindor tower for a welcome back snogging…" Hermione replied hotly.
The other two stood silently, waiting for the tide of fury to cool from the bushy haired genius. "Well," Draco said awkwardly after a moment, "I suppose I'll see you all at breakfast tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Harry said absently, still watching Hermione as though she might explode, "See you later then."
Draco departed quickly; very glad to not be around to see when Hermione might confront Ron again. It was a tenuous situation, but in Draco's opinion, he didn't see Ron and Lavender lasting long as a couple. From what he had witnessed for so long the only girl in school that had the patience to work with Ron, and had thus earned his respect and love was Hermione Granger.
This line of thought led Draco to think of the other Weasley that was in his life. Sweet Ginny, who had spoke only a few times to him during the holiday. Ginny, who was still in a relationship with the black Gryffindor boy, Dean Thomas. Draco frowned at the thought of the boy, suppressing a bout of jealousy. There was many a time that he thought she return his feelings, but she had yet mention anything to him, and her current relationship seemed strong, but he would be patient and watch. Ginny was perfectly free to date whom she would, but Draco had his eyes open for any opportunity to steal her away for himself.
A small smile crossed his face at the thought of her at his side, just as he rounded the corner in the dungeon and came face to face with a sizeable portion of Slytherin house. "Well, well," Theodore Nott said from the front, "look what the Mudblood dragged in…"
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled from either side of the tall, scrawny boy, and cracked their ogre-like knuckles. Draco was unfazed. Already the spirit of Eldarion had appeared; ready to guide him of a fight broke out. Instinctively Draco's hand slid to the hilt at his waist.
"Nott," he said neutrally, refusing to be dragged down by the other boy's darkness and contempt. They stared at each other for several moments, and Draco wondered if Nott was even going to say anything. Finally a prefect arrived with the password, which was apparently what the others had been waiting for.
Several glares from surrounding Slytherins, as well as the taunting smile of Nott passed by as they crowded inside. Draco felt on edge as he entered the sixth year boy's dormitory. There was something clearly not right in the air, and the mantra of Alastor Moody kept ringing in his mind, 'Constant Vigilance!' Draco was sure though that any dangers was yet a ways off, but just to be safe he slept with Andúril close by that night.
But the feeling seemed to remain even the next morning, so much so that Draco nearly bypassed the signup notice for apparition lessons. Eagerly signing up, Draco felt a surge of childish glee to be finally learning the art of teleportation.
Most people stared at him as he walked slowly toward the Great Hall, eyeing his unusual dress with confusion. Pausing in the middle of the entrance hall, Draco suddenly felt unsure of himself. He had gone over what rules he could find hundreds of time, and he was completely allowed to do what he was about to do, but for him it was risky. If he failed, his time at Hogwarts would become infinitely worse than it had been thus far.
Just then, his friends from Gryffindor arrived, descending the stairs from higher up together. Ron was the first to spot him, and they greeted him and began to move toward the Hall for breakfast. Draco didn't hear what they were discussing, he was too focused on what he was about to demand. Their presence at least comforted him, and an encouraging look from Faykan convinced him at last.
Striding into the Hall, he instantly became the focus of attention. It probably didn't help that his clothing stuck out like sore thumbs among the sea of black robes. But it was too late to turn back now. Taking a deep breath, Draco advanced on the Head Table. Dumbledore was there, along with Professors Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout.
Stopping in front of the Headmaster, Draco swallowed, his nerves returning again. "Yes Draco?" Dumbledore questioned, smiling at him as he set a goblet of wine atop the table.
Drawing a deep, calming breath, Draco spoke the words that had plagued him all year. "I desire a resorting, Headmaster."
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Albus was not altogether surprised that young Draco had finally requested the chance to be removed from Slytherin House. Nodding at the request, Albus turned to Minerva, "Bring the Sorting Hat, Professor McGonagall, if you would."
As the Transfiguration Mistress departed, Albus rose from his seat, scanning the crowd of eyes. Personally, he knew that the young man would want to do his resorting in private, but according to the traditions of the school, it must be done in front of the entire student body, so that the chosen house, if selected, can embrace the new member. It was also so that the house that lost its member would have the reasons put into light if they were serious transgressions against the resorted student, but Albus thought that that part may have a lesser impact for this situation.
Severus came over at that time to speak with young Draco. Albus was still having a difficult time remembering that the boy was no longer a Malfoy, officially, but was in fact a Black by wizarding law. "Are you certain of this Draco?" the Potion's Master asked quietly, showing far more of his worry and concern that he usually did in front of the student body.
Realizing that he had to say something to the school at large about the matter, Albus finally addressed them, "There is a small matter of business that must be taken care of this morning." He gestured at Draco, "Mr. Draco Black has of this moment requested a Resorting, a thing many might think unheard of. However, it very much exists."
Professor McGonagall returned, carrying the hat in her hand. Draco was calmly standing off to the side of the Head Table at this point, and Albus beckoned to him and Professor McGonagall. The whispering and muttering of the students started immediately as the pair met with Albus. "Now, Mr. Black," Albus said softly, "this is your final chance, whatever House the hat chooses will be yours for the remainder of you time here in Hogwarts, regardless of its choice."
"I understand, Headmaster" Draco responded, and Albus nodded. Taking the hat and having Draco stand facing the students, he lowering it onto the boy's head, allowing the judge which Godric Gryffindor himself enchanted take command of the situation, as it was designed to.
The brim opened and the hat began to speak to the school at large, "Sgiathatch Telcontar, also known as Draco Abraxas Black, formerly Malfoy, has initiated a Resorting, as is his right as a student of Hogwarts. His charges are rejection from his house, Slytherin, and the aggressive motivations of those who are favorable toward others who wish Draco Abraxas Black harm."
The hat paused, and a hush fell over the school, with many eyes falling onto Slytherin House. "Draco expresses his resolute desire to remain loyal to his roots, housed in Slytherin for generations, and regrets that he must do this, not only for his own safety, but for many others' as well."
The glares across the room increased, but the Hat had finally made its decision. "Resorting has been granted. We at Hogwarts hope you find new joy and warmer reception in… GRYFFINDOR!"
The school burst into noise, the Gryffindors clapping, albeit very confused, the Slytherins sneering and murmuring dissent, while the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs sat in complete befuddlement, with only handfuls here and there adding their congratulations aloud.
As Draco had not been wearing an enchanted Hogwarts uniform, his clothing did not change to match his new house, but Albus informed him that the change had been made and that he would immediately be switching schedules and sleeping arrangements once classes resumed the following day.
Albus excused himself after that, and went to his office to prepare for his next session with Lord Alatar and Harry. He had only just brought out the vials of memory and pensieve when the knock sounded on his door. "Enter," he said, smiling as both boys walked inside.
"Quite the interesting little event this morning," Albus said conversationally as he poured his procured memories into the basin.
Alatar said nothing, but smiled pleasantly at Albus' words. Harry nodded thoughtfully. Understanding that the subject of young Draco's house change might still be somewhat of a shock, and therefore the Headmaster let the subject drop. "So Harry, I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?"
"Yes, I did." Harry responded, "He's not overall pleased with my responses to his request of visibly supporting the Ministry's grasp of the war."
"No?" Albus said, a small smile slipping on his face. "Well, he's not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, but fight on regardless."
Truthfully the new Minister had been far more than just a tad unhappy with Albus. Closer to downright furious was closer to accurate. Not only had the man demanded to meet with Harry mere hours after his election, but had been determined to pry every ounce of information from the Headmaster about his private comings and goings. He had even gone so far as to attempt to have Auror Dawlish to tail Albus from when he left Hogwarts to go to Little Hangleton early in the summer.
Needless to say, Albus had regrettably been forced to defend his privacy and had jinxed the headstrong young Auror for the second time in one year.
Both young men brightened at his humorous comment, but neither pursued the topic in the slightest. Internally frowning at the lack of congeniality from the pair, had he really fallen so far in Harry's eyes, Albus finally brought them around to the pensieve and began their lesson.
"So, we meet again to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we last left poised in the middle of his Hogwarts career, courtesy of Lord Alatar, who had much personal contact with the young Dark Lord."
Albus quickly summarized some of the important things that had been revealed in the memories from the ancient Istari, namely Riddles fascination with his heritage, and pouring through books in the library for the genealogies of Salazar Slytherin in specific, meeting and surrounding himself with the heirs of many of the pureblood families.
Having the pair of them stand after his summary was finished; Albus had all three of them enter the memory of Morfin Gaunt, Tom's mother's brother. This memory was had been quite difficult for Dumbledore to acquire, him having to visit Azkaban where Morfin was incarcerated for life for the murder of Tom Riddle Sr. as well as the Muggle's elderly parents. A murder that Albus was convinced that Morfin had not committed.
The memory was short, cut off by the flash of a stunner sent by Riddle Jr. when he encountered his quite mad uncle. Albus was quite pleased that Harry picked up on the same thoughts that Albus had had regarding Morfin's story after the memory ended.
Lamentably, the two boys weren't very talkative regarding this particular memory either, and Albus was momentarily curious about what was the matter with them, but he felt that if his input or opinion was desire regarding whatever it was, it would have been requested.
"This last memory that I found," Albus said as he removed the tiny vial of his most recently procured memory to date, "will finally lead to the entire purpose of our lessons, and I hope that you both pay extra close attention to it, as it is rather short. But remember that it is probably the most important of all that we have seen. When you both are ready," Albus added as he poured the silvery strands into the pensieve.
Neither boy delayed plunging into the silvery light of the magical devise, nor did Albus as he followed them quickly into the memory, landing in the old office of Horace Slughorn, now nearly fifty years younger than the man currently teaching at the school.
Half a dozen boys, all Slytherin, sat around a large table with Slughorn himself, sporting his thick, straw-colored hair. Tom was easily recognized as the most prominent of the boys, but Albus did a small double take as he recognized the form of Lord Alatar among the other boys, looking mildly uncomfortable to be seating among them on the small hard stools that surrounded the table.
Albus smiled as he saw Harry's eyes widen at the sight of Marvolo's golden ring on Tom Riddle's hand. This clearly dated the memory as after murder of the boy's parent and grandparents.
"Sir," Riddle said slowly, turning from the small plate of finished food in front of him to look at Slughorn, "is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked calmly.
"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," the younger Slughorn said while wagging his finger, still coated in sugar from the crystallized pineapple he was savoring, but then he winked mischievously, "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."
Riddle smiled at the praise, while the other boys immediately around him laughed and cast admiring looks. Lord Alatar of the past however did very little, contenting himself to casting a single glance at Tom before returning to idly glancing around the room. Albus caught the very familiar gesture and guessed that it was a trick that the Istari had used countless times to fade into the background so he didn't draw attention. The wizard had used it often enough in Albus' presence to great effect for the Headmaster to, after the fact, recognize it well.
Slughorn continued with his praise of Tom's traits, but they quickly enough came upon the first major point that Albus knew would steer their conversation after the memory ended. Thick white fog engulfed the scene, and Slughorn almost instantly started shouting at Tom, but Albus ignore it. This part of the memory, along with one slightly later was corrupted, most likely by Horace's own hand.
When the fog cleared, Slughorn dismissed the boys, turning to collect the drinking glasses that were along the table as the boys filed out. Tom remained, not meeting any of the other student's eyes, except as Alatar passed. The illusioned wizard earned a fleeting glare of anger from Riddle as he exited. Riddle closed the door behind Alatar, and waited for Slughorn to finish depositing the glasses on his desk.
Having reviewed this memory many times before, Albus knew what was to occur. Horace would gently reprimand Tom and suggest him to head to bed, upon which Tom would request, in his manner that was always indulged by the school at large, information about Horcruxes. Then the scene would go white again as the modified portion would play out, having Slughorn chasing Tom out of his office with his words to never mention the foul things again.
The memory ended, and Albus exited the pensieve along with the two boys. "Why did Slughorn tamper with his own memory?" Alatar asked, diving straight into the point.
"I think he might have been ashamed of what he remembers," Albus said gently. "He had tried very hard to obliterate, crudely as it may be, any trace of information that might be of use to us. It this that same crude attempt however, that betrays the fact that the true memory is intact within Horace's mind."
"So you brought him back for more than just the Potions Master position," Harry said thoughtfully, solving the puzzle on his own. "You want me, or us, to get the real version of that same memory."
Albus beamed, "Precisely Harry, precisely. I believe you two are the only ones in the school that can penetrate the defenses that Horace has surrounded himself with over the years. Wresting it by force or trickery would not work, or it would have been done ages ago. He needs to trust one or both of you to the point that he can be persuaded to part with it willingly, and in the full truth of its contents."
He glanced at one of his many clocks, "It is far past time that I let the pair of you go however, and I dare say that you friend Draco would be in need of your support as he transitions into your house. You may go. Enjoy the lovely day, and good luck."
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
That evening, after Hermione, Ron, Draco, Harry and Faykan all thoroughly enjoyed their final day before school resumed; they retired to the Room of Requirement. Instead of training as they might normally have, they lounged around a conjured fire, simply relaxing and sharing each other's company for a time.
Unfortunately, Hermione couldn't just forget some of the events that had happened that morning, namely Draco's resorting into Gryffindor and the meeting with Dumbledore. "So," she said, turning to the pale, blond boy, "What was the final cause for this turn of events?"
Draco frowned, clearly desirous to let the reasons lie dormant, but he shrugged and answered, "The harassment in Slytherin was building to a boiling point. I wasn't willing to wait around and find out what they were willing to do. I almost had to defend myself more than once just last term, and enough was enough."
"Nott?" Harry asked from across the small room that had been provided for their use by the magic of the castle.
"Mainly," Draco replied, "also Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and some of the seventh years, but not to the same degree."
"Think he knows that we know he's up to something?" Ron asked.
"Undoubtedly," Faykan replied, leaning forward to prod the magical fire with his wand, slightly increasing its intensity to fill the room with pleasant warm air. "It's not as though we were particularly secretive about our suspicions."
"Suppose there's little left to do about it now thought," Ron continued, "Better Draco safe than us keeping a constant eye on Nott."
Hermione suddenly had a brilliant idea, "but we can!" she said excitedly as she turned to Harry, causing all the boys to look at her, "Have Dobby follow Nott during times that he's not out in the open where one of us or a Professor can keep an eye on him."
She could see that none of them had considered the option, and smiled slightly as they all agreed, praising her for the brilliant idea. Harry called for the small elf, who practically bounced with excitement for the assignment from his master, hugging Harry around the knees and all but sobbing in his joy.
It was in that small moment that Hermione noticed the brief flash of magical discharge that sparked between Harry and the elf. It was almost as though magic left Harry to be funneled into Dobby, like a symbiotic relationship where both parties benefitted from the connection.
Widening her eyes in astonishment, she realized that that was exactly what she had seen, and she shook with her own excitement as the pieces started to fall into place. House Elves were always happy with the work that they were given by wizards, as far as she had personally witnessed. Perhaps it wasn't so much that they were enslaved, but more so that they received a type of payment that she had never considered.
A small charm later, cleverly hidden from sight or sound from the others, Hermione permitted herself to see the glowing light of Harry's magical aura. Despite Dobby the elf having left to perform his new assignment, Hermione could clearly see the powerful threads of magic that wafted off of Harry, and flowed through the air and out of the room, presumable in her mind to exactly where Dobby was now.
She smiled for the rest of the evening; content that she suddenly had one less battle to fight for what she felt was magical equality. S.P.E.W. had never taken off that well to begin with, but Hermione felt that she would be able, at last, to toss the things she had held onto for so long and feel happy when she saw the little elves busily working, safe within the magic of their bonded masters.
Ron, Draco and Harry were somewhat oblivious to her thoughtful and distant state, but Faykan seemed to notice immediately, and when Hermione caught his eye from across the enchanted fire, he smiled at her, winking knowingly as he conjured another piece of fuel for the flames to consume.
Once they had ironed out Dobby's schedule for following Nott, and when he could have time to relax and return to other business, Hermione, Ron and Draco rerouted the conversation back to Harry and Fays meeting with the Headmaster.
There was little to tell, the memory of Morfin Gaunt and Tom Riddle sending chills up Hermione's spine, but otherwise meaning little in the long run. The other memory however, was far more of a challenge to conquer and a point of distinct interest to Hermione, and she wouldn't let go of it without a very good reason.
Ron and Draco were immediate to voice they approval of Harry and Faykan's choice to extract the true memory from Professor Slughorn, but Hermione held onto a few concerned doubts; namely that this sort of plan would require much planning to execute properly. Naturally thought, time was not on their side.
They discussed several potential attempts at persuading Slughorn, they finally chose to retire for the evening, as it was growing quite late. Faykan held the door to the Gryffindor common room for them all, winking at Hermione as she passed again.
As she entered the common room and saw Draco's welcoming party, gifts and food procured from the Weasley's Twins shop as well as Hogsmeade, Hermione was strongly reminded of when she had learned of magic in the first place. Draco seemed truly happy, far more then he had in days previous.
The boy was admiring the red cloth-work put over the chairs and hung from the walls, he nodded to himself. Hermione would have liked to stay up late with the festivities, but she knew they had classes bright and early the next morning, and she desperately wanted to climb into bed and rest.
Smiling one final time as her head hit the pillow, Hermione couldn't help but rationalize that this was probably going to be one of the best years in Hogwart's history.