Chapter 7: OWL's and Toads

Hermione didn't even bother to hide the smirk on her face as she saw Umbridge running… or rather, waddling down the hallway chasing after one of the Weasley twins' fireworks, with Filch and two of the Inquisitorial Squad at her heels. It was just another fine example of the chaos that now reigned at Hogwarts. Students of all houses, even Slytherin (to Hermione's surprise) had chosen to rise up in defiance of Umbridge's supposed authority, unleashing a near constant storm of prank products, spells, and general mayhem that must be driving the High Inquisitor near to insanity, given her increasingly vitriolic rants. The toad in question, of course, had responded by doubling down on the tyranny, supported by the Minister, in an attempt to crush any resistance.

Not that she was likely to be successful anytime soon. The other staff members were making no effort to support their supposed colleague, some, in fact, even going so far as to help the students in small ways. And that was to say nothing of Peeves, who had taken Fred's parting wish to heart.

Though the Defense Group's meetings had been put on indefinite hold, that didn't stop them from using what they had learned, with most of the DG members being among the most active of the student rebels. Hermione suspected that they had formed into smaller groups to coordinate their efforts, but she deliberately made no effort to confirm her suspicions, given that she was undoubtedly being watched closely, and would be hauled in to be interrogated at the first hint that she was participating in the defiance against the 'Ministry's rightful authority'.

No, for now, she would keep her nose clean and stay out of the chaos in Hogwarts entirely. OWL's were coming up, after all, and she wanted to do her best, though privately she had to admit that she wasn't quite as concerned about the tests as she had been.

Given her complete innocence with regards to the mayhem in the school, she was surprised when she was summoned to the Headmaster's office just a week before OWL's were to begin. She hadn't spoken to the man since that evening so long ago when Harry had… chosen a different but very understandable path.

After passing the gargoyle and ascending the escalator-like staircase, she knocked on the large wooden door, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She couldn't help but wonder why the headmaster had requested her presence. One thing was certain, she doubted that she had been called for anything good.

On hearing Dumbledore's call of 'Enter', Hermione opened the door and was surprised to see the wizened headmaster looking more tired and beaten down than ever before. She took a seat in front of his desk, waiting for him to speak, but he remained silent, staring at a small box in front of him.

"Headmaster?" she asked in a small voice. "What is it? Why did you call me here?"

Dumbledore finally tore his gaze away from the cardboard box, looking at her with tear-filled eyes. Dread pooled in Hermione's stomach. "I am sorry to have to be the one to inform you of this, but Harry Potter was found dead by muggle authorities last week," he said softly.

Her breath caught in her throat. Hermione stared at the man, hoping that somehow it was a mistake. Or a joke. Or a… a… a something! Something that would mean that her best friend was not truly gone.

"How?" she finally croaked.

"It appears that he had been living on the streets for some time. He was killed when one of the other young men in a similar situation attacked him," Dumbledore replied, his voice little more than a whisper.

"That… no… it…" Hermione's thoughts were racing, but all her intelligence failed her. No amount of knowledge or cleverness could solve this problem. "Why are you telling me?" she finally asked.

Dumbledore glanced down at the box once more. "When the Aurors investigated, they found some of his possessions in a tunnel in muggle London. Included was a simple, hand-written will. He left a few small bequests, such as his Firebolt going to Ronald Weasley, and the Marauder's Map being returned to the Weasley twins, though neither item has been found, and a generous amount being gifted to the Weasley parents for welcoming him into their home. He left the rest of his possessions to you, stating that he knew you will use the money well."

Hermione made no response; she simply stared in horror, still struggling to comprehend what she was hearing.

"These are the possessions that were found in the tunnel," the headmaster continued as he pushed the cardboard box a little closer to her. "The key to Harry's Gringotts vault is in there as well. It's yours now, though I would warn you that some in the ministry may protest that inheritance. Harry was Sirius' primary heir, and though Lucius Malfoy tried to dispute it, he was unsuccessful given the attacks shortly after Sirius' death. As such, you have just inherited the combined fortune of both the Potters and the Blacks. There are many who will not approve of you receiving such wealth."

Tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she made no effort to hide them. Her best friend was dead. Numbly, she grabbed the box and left, still not saying a word.

It was good that she was so familiar with the strange and confusing corridors of Hogwarts, for she didn't pay any attention as she walked back to Gryffindor tower. A few people greeted her as she entered, but she had no desire to speak with anyone. Instead, she retreated swiftly to the privacy of her bed, drawing the curtains closed. Only then did she finally break down, her sobs filling the room as she stared at the box that held the only mementos of the boy who had changed her life.

Hermione was sure that there was plenty of speculation about why she had been so clearly distressed, but, unfortunately, the student body didn't have to wait long to find the real cause. It was on the headline of the Daily Prophet the next morning. And while many people reacted with horror or grief (though a cynical part of her wondered if they were mourning Harry, or their precious Boy-Who-Lived who they were convinced would save them from Voldemort), there were some who, to her absolute fury, seemed more inclined to celebrate, such as Umbridge and Malfoy.

A burning hatred filled her heart, and she swore that somehow, someday, she would make them pay.

"What's this about, Hermione?" Susan asked as they met in a deserted corner of the library.

"Thanks for coming, Susan. You, too, Neville," Hermione said softly. "I've had some time to think, and now that we know that Harry really is… that he's…" her face contorted in pain and misery, but she forced back the tears that threatened to fall. "That we'll have to do this without him," she finally managed to choke out, "I think we need to try the more direct method. I contacted Fred and George, and they agreed to help with the supplies that we'll need."

Neville looked shocked. "Hermione that's… a big step. Are you sure?"

"Do we have another choice?" Hermione replied archly.

Neville shook his head slowly. "No, but still…"

"We need to do something," Susan stated forcefully. "I'm in. What do you need us to do?"

"It'll take some time to get the equipment. For now, just get ready. It'll probably be after OWL's. Everyone will be relaxed and waiting for summer. Umbridge won't suspect a thing," Hermione responded.

Even Neville was on board by now. "Okay," he finally said. "Let us know when you're ready."

The three shared brief nods then went their separate ways. And from behind a bookshelf, Draco Malfoy stepped out, watching as his fellow students left, a malicious smirk on his face.

Perhaps the most heart-breaking thing for Hermione was when she finally decided to go through the box of Harry's possessions. She could only imagine how horrific things must have been for her friend, homeless, hungry, and convinced that there was no one left that actually cared about him.

Finding the omnioculars was the worst. She remembered when Harry had purchased three pair at the Quidditch World Cup, one for each of the trio, even over Ron's protests. Harry had always been generous like that. And to her horror, as she inspected the brass device, she realized that it was still set in playback mode halfway through the game. Harry must have been re-watching it shortly before he died. Her heart sank as she realized how lost and lonely her friend must have been feeling, that he would reach out for such a desperate method to feel closer to the people who had ultimately abandoned him.

Still, she pushed past her grief. The omnioculars would be useful.

For some unfathomable reason (probably an ancient tradition that had made sense at one point) the examiners for the OWL's and NEWT's stayed at Hogwarts during the tests. They arrived the night before, prompting a flurry of last-minute studying and frantic reviewing. To her surprise, Hermione found that she really didn't care. She knew that she would do well, and even if she didn't get all O's, it was not the end of the world. It was times like this that she was forced to realize just how much she had changed.

And as she finished her final test, she realized why she didn't care anymore. Deep down, she had already acknowledged something that her conscious mind had only just begun to accept. Her future did not lay in the Wizarding World. Where once she had expected to find a perfect realm where she would finally be accepted and welcomed, now she knew that prejudice and bigotry ruled supreme. She'd heard the whispered comments in the halls about how the little 'mudblood' had stolen an inheritance that should have gone to someone more deserving. Even if she wanted to remain a part of such a society, it was unlikely that she would be able to do so without compromising some of her values, which she was not willing to do.

She would stay at Hogwarts for as long as she could, if only to learn more, but once she graduated, or, as was seeming more and more likely, once Voldemort took over, she would leave. She may stay to fight the dark lord, if only to protect the defenseless muggles who had no idea of the threat that lurked in the shadows, but she would not be fighting to preserve magical society. If need be, she would destroy them along with the Death Eaters.

Plans and ideas raced through her mind. She had money now, thanks to Harry, and she would use it well, just as her friend had known she would. The war was coming, and the time to prepare was now. It would probably be more accurate to say that the time was long past, but she couldn't let that stop her. She could set up safehouses and purchase supplies, both magical and muggle. Hopefully, the Order of the Phoenix was doing likewise, but it wouldn't hurt for her to prepare as well.

But first, she needed to deal with Umbridge.

"Susan! Over here," Hermione whispered, loudly enough that the busty redhead could hear her.

Looking around quickly, Susan joined the other girl in the small alcove. "I got your message," the Hufflepuff said, quite unnecessarily in Hermione's opinion. Why else would the girl have come?

Hermione didn't bother pointing out the obvious nature of her friend's statement. "Fred and George have the supplies. They'll bring them to the Shrieking Shack tomorrow night. I'll go out there at seven. It'll probably take about an hour to assemble the device, so you'll need to be sure that Umbridge is occupied for that time," she said gravely.

"Leave it to me," Susan promised.

"Thank you," Hermione replied genuinely, then, with a quick glance, hurried down the hallway, with Susan going in the opposite direction. And after they were gone, Millicent Bulstrode stepped out of a classroom just across from where they had met.

Hermione ignored her teacher's questioning gaze as she exited the Deputy Headmistress's office. It may not be entirely fair, but Hermione had found herself becoming quite critical of Professor McGonagall this year. Her inaction when many students in the school faced outright persecution not only from fellow students, but from a supposed member of the faculty, was inexcusable.

Still, it was best for now that Hermione follow the rules, and that included notifying the woman that she intended to leave the school grounds. Fortunately, her parents had returned her letter quickly with the permission needed to ensure that her actions this evening were in accordance with school rules. Just in case.

Exiting the castle, she swiftly made her way to the Whomping Willow, just as the sun was descending behind the mountains. A flick of her wand sent a stray branch flying to hit the knot that calmed the violent tree, and Hermione climbed into the tunnel quickly.

When she emerged in the Shrieking Shack, she took a moment to study the place. It was here that everything had gone wrong on that night so long ago. Pettigrew had been unmasked and captured, and if they had managed to deliver him safely to Hogwarts, none of the horrors they faced now would have come to pass. Voldemort never would have been resurrected. Sirius would have been freed. And Harry… Harry would still be at Hogwarts with the people that loved him.

Wiping away the tears that this thought brought, Hermione turned her attention to the large box the Weasley twins had left for her. Glancing down at her watch, she set to work. There was no time to waste. Too much was riding on this.

Hermione had just finished separating out the various components her friends had sent when the door opened. She almost jumped in fright as she spun around and saw Umbridge standing there, accompanied by nearly a dozen members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

"You? How?" she uttered as she looked around, desperate to find some method of escape.

"You weren't nearly as cunning as you thought you were, you little mudblood," the Inquisitor replied, her falsely high-pitched voice at complete odds with the vicious glare on her face.

"I… you… I've done nothing wrong," Hermione claimed, though she knew that the woman facing her would never believe her.

"Nothing wrong?" Umbridge twittered. "Only a mudblood could think anyone would believe that when you've been caught red-handed." The Inquisitorial Squad laughed cruelly at that.

"It's good that we now have proof of your crimes," the squat woman continued. "You'll be sent to Azkaban, and the inheritance that you stole can now be awarded to someone far more deserving," she said, glancing over at Draco, who smirked at the lone Gryffindor in the room.

"Still, we need to know precisely what you have planned. Tell us, and it will be much easier for you," Umbridge demanded.

"I'll never tell you a thing," Hermione swore. "There's nothing you can do to me to make me talk."

"I thought you might say that." Umbridge's voice was sweet, but the undercurrent of malice and hatred was clear. "I imagine that a bit of the cruciatus will loosen your tongue."

To Hermione's disgust, several of the students who had accompanied the teacher seemed pleased at this idea. Malfoy, in particular, was grinning broadly.

"You're just a foul, loathsome toad!" Hermione screamed. "You'll get what's coming to you someday. If Harry were still here, you'd never have dared do anything like this. You're afraid of him. You still are!"

As Hermione spoke, Umbridge's fake smile turned to a scowl, but then morphed into a triumphant smirk. "Potter? Why would I be afraid of Potter? He's dead. I defeated him!" she spat.

"You didn't do a thing!" Hermione yelled.

"I sent the dementors after him!" Umbridge roared. "It's a pity he wasn't Kissed, but at least some filthy muggles were good enough to finish the job!"

As she realized what the woman had said, Hermione took a step back. A feeling of calm spread over her as she realized that the desperate gamble had worked, and she made a mental note to profusely thank Susan and Neville for their help. True, she hadn't known for certain, but Hermione had been convinced that Umbridge had something to do with what happened to her friend. And now, she had confirmation. "I didn't think it would be that easy," she admitted.

In the corner of the room furthest from the door, Amelia Bones, Nymphadora Tonks and Rita Skeeter faded into view as the disillusionment charm fell.

"I think we've heard enough," Bones said, her voice holding all the warmth of a blizzard.

Umbridge paled, and a few of the students tried to run, but Tonks quickly sealed the door. "None of that, now. We need to get your statements, after all," the metamorph chided, her tone innocent, but the fury on her face clear for all to see.

Hermione walked over to the table, where the omnioculars had sat unnoticed. Umbridge had not realized that she was being recorded. "Here," she said, offering the device to Madam Bones. "Just in case she tries to lie about what she said."

Madam Bones and Tonks both looked grateful (and enraged, but that went without saying).

And Rita Skeeter… she looked like Christmas had come early. It was clear that she was already mentally composing the article that would be the talk of magical Britain for months. And for the first time in her life, Hermione found herself appreciating the unscrupulous reporter.

Hermione ignored the whispered conversations that filled every compartment of the train on the ride back to London. The scandal had been immense, and, in fact, was still ongoing, as Fudge tried to claim that he had no idea what his Undersecretary had done.

The Prophet had printed the story faithfully, and now everyone knew that Harry had indeed been innocent, the victim of persecution by a corrupt government. And though some people, such as Ron (to Hermione's great displeasure) seemed to think that this was a good end given that Harry had finally been vindicated, Hermione just felt sick about the whole thing. It was a hollow victory at best. Harry was still dead, and the truth finally being known did not change that.

Spinner's End

Two months later

With a will born of iron, one that had served him well in his position of spy, Severus Snape kept his face neutral until his unwelcome guests had finally left. Of course Narcissa would only care once she realized that it was her son on the chopping block. The conceited woman had never truly supported the cause. Like so many others, to her, it was a means to an end. And though Snape himself couldn't say that he truly blamed her or even disagreed with her attitude, the fact that she had the unmitigated gall to demand that he take an Unbreakable Vow to aid her son infuriated him. Unfortunately, despite the many significant failures of the Malfoys in the recent past, she was still powerful and influential enough that to deny her would put him in a precarious situation.

After all, his whole purpose for maintaining the charade of being a loyal soldier for either cause was to ensure that he profited in the end. And it wasn't as though the oath was all that constrictive. Narcissa's wording had left several obvious loopholes that any half-witted Slytherin should have noticed. And if Snape were truly forced to act, well, there were certainly ways that he could turn that to his advantage, as well.

A soft creak from the back room drew his attention. Wand held ready, Snape cautiously opened the door and listened closely. Given the very powerful (and illegal, though Snape didn't care about that) wards around this house, it was unlikely that an intruder had managed to enter undetected, but it was always better to be safe than to be sorry.

"Homenum Revelio," he muttered softly, relaxing just a hair when the spell indicated that there were no other people present. Entering the room, he heard a soft squeak, and turned to see a mouse fleeing into a hole in the corner of the room. Making a mental note to check the vermin repulsion wards (not that he cared overmuch, given that he spent little time here) he turned back to the door. He had hardly taken a step when his whole body froze, and he found himself falling to the floor.

The air around him seemed to shimmer, and he realized to his horror that his assailant had cast a dark variant of the Bubblehead Charm, one used to slowly asphyxiate the victim. His thoughts raced as he tried to find a way out of his predicament, but no solution came to mind. He could hear his attacker working on something out of his sight, soft chants and the occasional colored flare of a spell being cast offering the only clues to what the stranger was doing.

After several minutes, his breathing was becoming labored, with very little oxygen being left in the bubble surrounding his head. Darkness began to gather in the corners of his vision. His attacker was still at work, but now the chanting was louder than ever, until it finally seemed that the man was almost shouting. A sickly, yellow light filled the room, and Snape knew true pain.

The body-bind prevented him from moving, or even screaming, which made the experience even worse. There was no escape, no relief. Just a never-ending agony that grew with each second as the Potions Master prayed for death. He pleaded with whatever spirits may exist that the asphyxiation curse would finally complete its task.

Through his torment, he could still hear what was happening in the room around him. His assailant… no, his murderer was slowly approaching him. His breath caught as the man finally came into view.

As the darkness gathered, in his last moments, still wracked in pain and agony, Severus Snape found himself staring at a familiar face, one with messy black hair and blazing green eyes filled with absolute hate.