Chapter 9: The Dark Lord's Wrath
Days slowly turned into weeks without any major developments. The attacks had slowed, but not stopped. Each day when the newspaper arrived, the whole school waited anxiously as they quickly looked to see if there had been any more 'unexplained' deaths.
Hermione sighed as she set the latest letter from the twins down on her nightstand. She knew it had been a long shot, but Hermione had still hoped that they would have an idea of how to recreate the Marauder's Map. It would be so useful. She once more considered reaching out to Lupin, but thought it unlikely that he would be willing to help her without first checking with the headmaster, and that was something that she certainly wanted to avoid if at all possible. So with the original map lost and no option to make a new one, she would have to go with plan B.
I cannot believe that the founder of S.P.E.W is resorting to this, she thought as she made her way down to the kitchens, somewhat ashamed of the fact that she was compromising her principles like this. But she needed help, and she knew someone who would be both willing and able to give her the assistance she required.
As usual, the kitchens were a busy hive of activity as the house elves ran to and fro as they prepared the dinner that would be served in just a short time. It didn't take long to find the one she was looking for.
"What can Dobby do for Great Harry Potter's Missy Mione?" the excitable little being asked.
"Hello, Dobby," she said with a smile. "I need some help."
At this, Dobby began to tear up. "Dobby would be honored to have the opportunity to help Great Harry Potter's Missy Mione!"
"I suspect that Draco Malfoy is…" Hermione floundered as she tried to figure out how to voice her suspicions. "Up to something," she finally said, cringing a little at her word choice. "I've been keeping a close watch on him, and he seems determined, but with a malicious sort of satisfaction, like he knows something we don't and he's looking forward to it. I think that Voldemort gave him a mission to complete, and I need to know what it is."
Dobby's eyes hardened. "Bad former master's son cannot be trusted."
"I agree," Hermione replied, no less firmly. "That's why I'm trying to keep a close surveillance on him. But I can't watch him all the time, and I don't want to get the other students involved in this. I was hoping you could help me."
"Dobby will do that," the house elf vowed. "Dobby will watch bad former master's son day and night. Dobby will not rest for even an instant!"
"You don't need to do that," Hermione quickly interjected. As Dobby's face fell at this rebuke, she hastily clarified, "after all, I need you to take good care of yourself if you're going to help me catch Draco in the act. Following him is just the first part, I'll need more help than that. But if you've already exhausted yourself, you might not be ready to help when I need it. It's important that you keep yourself in top shape as well."
Dobby frowned as he contemplated this line of thinking. "Dobby will sleep when bad former master's son sleeps," he finally agreed.
As usual, her birthday came with little fuss. There was no celebration, as she'd never told her friends when it was (though, truth be told, she'd always been just the teensiest bit annoyed that they'd never asked, which she admitted was a bit hypocritical), and even if it had been known, the idea of celebrating anything during such a time of fear and uncertainty just felt wrong.
She did receive a present from her parents, of course. In fact, it was the best present she had ever received. They had finally agreed to leave the country, selling their practice and moving to Australia until the war was over. It would take some time to finalize everything with the business, but they had agreed to have their possessions put into storage and sell their house as soon as possible, much to Hermione's relief. Just the fact that they would be out of the line of fire was one less thing to worry about.
Of course, the peace of mind she had felt at her parents' decision was immediately negated when Dobby made his report that night about Draco's activities.
"Draco Malfoy is a bad boy!" the house-elf declared. "He is meeting every night with other bad boys, and they is calling themselves the Soldiers of Slytherin. They is practicing fighting!"
Hermione resisted the urge to groan. How appropriate, a bunch of genocidal bigots forming a hate group with the initials SS. "Is there anything else Draco is doing? Anything else suspicious?"
Dobby frowned, thinking hard. "He is being very diligent in his duties as prefect. He is even meeting with old grouchy caretaker to ensure that all students are caught if they are out of bed at night," he offered, a hopeful tone in his voice.
For just a moment, Hermione amused herself with imagining how the conversation would go if she tried to use Malfoy's thoroughness in fulfilling his prefect duties as proof to convince McGonagall or Dumbledore that the Slytherin boy was up to no good. Even a complete fraud like Trelawney would be able to predict how that would turn out.
"Thank you, Dobby," she finally said, doing her best to hide her disappointment. "Please continue to watch Draco, especially when he meets with that group. Let me know right away if you hear them talk about attacking any students."
Two days later, she was sitting in the hard, wooden chair in Professor McGonagall's office, doing her best to match the teacher's severe look.
"I assume that you know why you are here, Miss Granger?" the professor inquired.
"Presumably, it has something to do with last night's argument," Hermione replied calmly. "Though I'm not sure why you want to discuss the matter with me, given that I was not in the common room at the time."
"It was more than a mere argument," McGonagall countered. "Wands were drawn, and had I not intervened when I did, I am certain that spells would have soon followed."
"As you well know, I wasn't there, so I don't know the details," Hermione said, though she was, of course, understating her understanding of the situation, as well as her understanding of why the professor had summoned her.
"The crux of the argument was that several of the Gryffindors were both aware of and very angry at the fact that Mister McLaggen refused to sign the contract you presented to your… Defense Group. I trust you can see why that is a problem."
"Yes, the fact that Cormac has essentially admitted that he would be willing to side with Voldemort under certain circumstances is, indeed, a problem," Hermione responded coolly.
"The fact that he chose not to sign a magically binding contract does not mean that he intends to support You-Know-Who," the professor said angrily. "As he pointed out, it would be height of foolishness to sign a contract written by a schoolgirl without first having it looked at by a professional."
"The entire contract consists of three sentences," Hermione argued. "It does not need to be carefully evaluated by a professional. All they're vowing to do is not support Voldemort or his death eaters and to use the skills they are learning in what they consider to be honorable endeavors. There's no obligation to fight, or anything remotely resembling such a requirement." She sighed. "I didn't even attempt to define what 'honorable' would mean. I'm willing to let each person make their own decisions on that front, so long as they don't support the genocidal terrorists trying to take over our government."
"Such matters have no place in a school setting," the deputy headmistress insisted.
Hermione glared. "Four years ago, Draco Malfoy was excited at the prospect of muggleborns being killed because of the circumstances of their birth. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, mudbloods!," she quoted with a snarl. "He proudly announced that when the basilisk petrified Mrs. Norris. And given that we all thought the cat was dead, he was advocating the mass murder of children – as a twelve year old! And yet, he's still a prefect in this school, meeting regularly with like-minded individuals to practice combat spells. That has no place in a school setting."
"And you are doing the same," McGonagall pointed out.
"Yes, I and a large number of people who have never committed a violent crime in their lives are learning to defend ourselves, while Malfoy and others who make no secret of their allegiance to Voldemort are learning to kill people like us. You're absolutely right, professor," Hermione said sarcastically. "Our two groups are exactly alike."
The tightening of her lips and flaring of her nostrils proved that the Transfiguration teacher was not pleased with Hermione's comment, but she quickly calmed herself. Taking a deep breath, McGonagall replied evenly, "I will admit that Mister Malfoy's actions are cause for some concern among the faculty, but we are monitoring the situation. We have to take a more hands-off approach for now with Severus no longer with us, but rest assured that should Mister Malfoy step out of line, we will be there to stop him."
"The fact that you honestly believe a Death Eater like Snape would have been any use in keeping Malfoy on the straight and narrow disturbs me, professor," Hermione retorted bluntly. "The man was a bully who enjoyed tormenting children. He did far more to encourage and enable Malfoy and his ilk then he ever did to stop them."
"You should not speak ill of the dead, Miss Granger."
"Why not?" the girl countered. "Snape had no problem speaking ill of James Potter. He did so quite regularly, smirking at Harry as he spoke. That's the sort of man you're defending."
Once more, McGonagall took a deep breath to calm herself. "May I assume, then, that you would be unwilling to speak to your… followers… and persuade them not to persecute those of their fellows who chose not to sign the contract you wrote?"
"I prefer the term friends, but, regardless, you assume correctly," Hermione responded.
"Then I suppose we are done here."
"Very well," Hermione said as she stood. She had just reached the door when the teacher gave a parting shot.
"You've changed, Miss Granger. And not for the better."
Deep down, the criticism from a woman who had been her favorite teacher stung, but Hermione refused to let that show on her face as she turned to look at the professor. "And you haven't changed. I'd say that's even worse."
Hermione wasn't sure if the Gryffindor head of house had tried speaking with anyone else to convince them to let the issue of the contract go, but if she had, it hadn't done any good. She couldn't help but laugh at the surly looks McLaggen was giving the others as a large mass of students returned from the Quidditch tryouts Katie Bell had arranged as part of her duties as Captain.
It didn't take long to get the full story. When it came down to the final selection for Keeper between Ron and McLaggen, Katie had each of the chasers – herself, Dean and a younger girl named Demelza – take four shots on each of the hopefuls. Not surprisingly, they did their absolute best when trying to score on McLaggen, but, when it came to Ron's turn, most of their shots were either aimed right at her red-haired friend, or so wide that Ron could have just stayed in place and the quaffle still wouldn't have gone anywhere near the hoops. Of course, McLaggen had tried to complain that it hadn't been fair, but nobody in Gryffindor cared to listen to the boy.
While she was completely apathetic toward the sport, she still couldn't resist the smile that formed as she watched McLaggen stomp up the stairs to his dorm room.
Even with Harry gone, his bad luck with Halloween still plagues us, Hermione thought as she stared at the paper, where a large picture of a small village in flames graphically revealed the results of the most deadly attack yet in the war. Nearly three dozen people had been killed, and for the first time, eyewitnesses saw that Voldemort had, in fact, returned.
Not surprisingly, the article was full of barely contained panic, and around the Great Hall, it was much the same. Fear and terror stood out starkly on almost every face – except, of course, for a number of smug expressions that could be clearly seen at the Slytherin table. Once more suppressing the anger she felt at the idea of such people being allowed to stay at Hogwarts even when they had made their allegiance clear, Hermione turned her attention back to the article.
Very little detail about the attack had been included, for which Hermione wasn't sure if she should be frustrated at the lack of information, or thankful at having been spared from reading the no doubt gruesome facts. However, the article just below the fold was both more informative and more palatable. An emergency session of the Wizengamot had been called for that evening and that it was expected that Fudge would be removed from his position as Minister and possibly subjected to criminal charges of negligence or even malfeasance in a public office.
Couldn't happen to a more deserving cretin, she thought with satisfaction, relieved to know that the corrupt Minister would be gone in just a matter of hours.
The Defense Group met again after dinner. In recent weeks, attendance had begun to drop, but tonight, everyone was in attendance, grim-faced and determined to learn everything they could as the war took a devastating turn for the worse.
Not surprisingly, nobody made any comment when Neville began by having them work on some of the more… aggressive spells. Gone were the days when practice consisted mostly of shield charms and stunners. Now, rather than casting at each other, the students lined up facing the stone walls, sending a stream of cutting, piercing, or crushing hexes at the Death Eater targets Dean had drawn for them.
Hermione had to admit that she had mixed feelings about teaching the younger children such spells. It was just so wrong. Children should be learning about all the wonderful things magic can do, not practicing how to mutilate attackers! Unfortunately, she knew that it was necessary.
The so-called grown-ups had proven that they would be useless in the coming war. They'd had over a decade to prepare, and they had done nothing. Dumbledore had done nothing.
It was amazing to look back at how naïve she had been just a few years ago. Her obsession with trusting academic authorities had led her to believe that all she had to do was put her trust in the headmaster and he would fix all the problems the wizarding world faced. And yet, he had failed – abysmally.
He made no effort to negate Lucius Malfoy's influence in the ministry, even though the man had attempted to unleash a basilisk on the students of Hogwarts. He had allowed Snape to keep his position as a professor despite all the evidence that he was not deserving of such an honor, ignoring all complaints as the loathsome man not only sabotaged an entire generation of potion brewers, but also used his position as a teacher to spread throughout Hogwarts the very bigotry that Dumbledore claimed to oppose. And the fact that Crouch, Junior had managed to infiltrate Hogwarts for an entire year without being detected was just icing on the cake!
Sometimes she wished she could find a way to go back in time and just smack her younger self upside the head to get her to wake up and see just how badly Dumbledore was performing in his duties, both as headmaster and as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. And yet, so many people still seemed to think that all they needed to do was trust the man and do exactly as he said. And I saw just how well that worked out when I helped to isolate Harry, the girl thought bitterly before pushing that unpleasant memory aside.
Yes, the adults had certainly failed them. And now, it was the children who would have to pick up the slack and succeed where their predecessors had failed.
She just hoped that they would survive.
After a quick shower to clean off the sweat and dirt from the tiring defense practice of that evening, Hermione was ready to relax. She had just settled down on her bed and was considering which book to read when a glowing, white shape emerged from the wall. Hermione stared in confusion. Though she recognized the chameleon patronus, she had absolutely no idea why Tonks would be contacting her.
That confusion turned to horror as the chameleon spoke.
"Voldemort attacked the Ministry and forced the Wizengamot to surrender. Get the muggleborns out of Hogwarts now!"