The Mudblood's Logic

by Cervantes Diderot

Hermione Granger was a a plain mudblood. At least until one rash action leads to her battling Voldemort first year and miraculously surviving. Stuck in a whirlwind of political ploys, fame, wealth and power along with assassination attempts Hermione has a rather difficult path. But what is that saying, "The ends justify the means," and she will do whatever it takes...

15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: Duelling and Dreaming.

Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or HBO.

Double Update: PLEASE READ CHAPTER FOURTEEN FIRST!

OOOO

It was on the twenty-ninth of November in 1992 when Cedric Diggory realized he was in love with Hermione Granger. There had been the long period of denial, of course. Disbelief at having a betrothal waved in his face by his ever climbing grandmother. Then came the period of friendship, filled with cheery banter and the sudden realization earlier that month that Hermione was the greatest human being he had ever before met. Intelligent enough to skip years of classes and challenge his formerly indomitable Transfiguration grades. Pretty even if she seemed overly fond of taming her curls with Sleakeazy hair care products. Defiant enough that she had squared off against the Dark Lord in her first year, the Albus Dumbledore, and more recently Professor Snape. Instead of getting expelled the muggleborn instead managed to further develop her impressive portfolio. Winding up in Cedric's Potion's class too. According to the rumour mill it was at Dumbledore's behest himself.

Slowly through November he grew to the realization that his new friend possessed a soul of gold. The compassion Hermione held in her enormous heart for underdogs like the delightfully dreamy Luna Lovegood. Even Magical Creatures held a niche in the girl's well-articulated criticisms of the Wizarding World's unjust social standards. Whenever a biased article against Werewolves, Centaurs, or Mermaids popped up in the Daily Prophet at breakfast he could expect to hear a rant about it hours later as they researched her groundbreaking discovery together. Though while Daphne rolled her eyes and Luna changed the topic to Nargles he sat in absolute, undeniable amazement.

These revelations truly compounded into one swift punch as Cedric searched desperately for the Golden Snitch in a pivotal match against Ravenclaw. Standing in the Gryffindor stands alongside their other friends was Hermione. All three wore Hufflepuff colours as a show of support for him. As ever, Hermione Granger was special. The same Quidditch jersey he had lost track of weeks earlier swallowed her willowy form like an ocean. His Hufflepuff themed name and number plastered across her back like a homing beacon amidst the throngs of clearly disgruntled, scarlet Gryffindors. That was when Cedric realized everything. Hundreds of meters in the air.

There would never be anyone like Hermione Granger.

Just the thought of a first kiss set his blood burning like fire. Imagining introducing his, admittedly bigoted, father to the pro-Werewolf muggleborn filled him with joy. None of these revelations concerned him much. She was only one year younger than him and incredibly mature to boot. Besides, Cedric should have known with his advanced maturity a relationship was inevitably close. He just never could have predicted Hermione would be his first true crush. In record time Cedric managed to catch the Snitch. His best record, and the finest seen in years. From that point forth he would unknowingly accomplish many impressive feats. All to impress her.

His brilliant, Gryffindor witch in gold and black.

OOOO

"This is insane, Hermione." Daphne remarked as her friend stumbled, late, into the Great Hall on December seventeenth. "You spend entirely too much time in that library." The aforementioned muggleborn muttered something whilst scrabbling through her satchel momentarily to withdraw her wand. With a hissed breath she batted her bushy locks aside before taking a deep breath and looking about. "You missed all of the drama. Harry Potter is a Parselmouth!" The Pureblood wasted no time filling her friend in on what had happened.

"Poor Harry," Hermione said, "Now everyone will be gossiping about how he is the Dark Lord incarnate." Luna, in a rare moment of lucidity, managed to share a look of surprise with blonde friend. Even after Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley dragged their ex-friend through the coals of the rumour mill she was defending them. Often Daphne felt the girl's heart was far too big for comfort. Especially given that she would soon be tangoing with the nastiest, Purist-aligned socialites Wizarding Britain had to offer.

"Wonderful of you to join us, Miss Granger," A cool, haughty voice drew from behind the group of three. "Perhaps next time you would keep in mind that it is better to not come at all than to arrive late." They all turned to find Professor Snape glaring at them. Hermione in particular. While her friend had planned on skipping Potions for two years to focus on research things did not worked out in such a manner. Instead Snape had been ordered by Dumbledore to move the prominent heiress into Fourth Year Potions. Of course, the greasy bat decided to make it more of a punishment than a reward given that Hermione so thoroughly trounced him before the other second years. In addition to the harder course load he often assigned Hermione incredibly advanced extra curricular assignments. Since she was, 'So hungry to be academically challenged.'

Suspiciously enough he often gave these assignments when Hermione appeared most challenged by her already exemplary calendar of commitments. Though the muggleborn took it like a champ, much to Daphne's concern. Constantly fretting over their research, her clubs, and other classes even though she was already ages ahead of her year in all except Transfiguration and Potions. Nor did the girl ever complain about their Professor. Hermione simply reverted back to the role of a studious, polite, rule-abiding bookworm after having gotten what she wanted. "Professor Snape," Hermione addressed the man politely, she scurried back into her bulging bag of academic materials. "I finished the supplementary essay you wanted me to complete regarding the properties of Syrup of Hellebore."

With a snide look he accepted the thick roll of parchment. "Pair up with Malfoy." Daphne watched as her friend marched off with a brief farewell towards Malfoy. The boy had been mocking other students with a sullen face in the corner of the stage ever since Harry Potter managed to one-up him by being a Parselmouth. Focusing on her own duelling with Luna, Daphne tried to tune out any concern felt for her overachieving friend. The other girl would simply not listen to her friends. Not even Cedric, and he always managed to calm her down. Only the coming burnout would teach Hermione the error of her obsessive ways.

Luna had just managed to cast a splendid Shielding Charm when everything came to a head across the room. "Disarming and blocking only, Granger!" Professor Lockhart admonished. Snape had scurried forth to deal with Malfoy who had been disarmed, silenced, stuck to a wall, and subjected to a Tickling Charm. The overall combination of these spells had resulted in the pompous boy turning blue as he struggled for breath.

"Oh, so you are willing to ignore the Smashing Hex he just shot at me?" Hermione asked indignantly. "The point of this club is to prepare us for the Chamber's monster. How much help will shielding and disarming be then? Do monsters often carry wands?" Lockhart had no time, or ability given his dashing pomposity, to respond before Hermione angrily recollected her satchel. Storming from the hall with her mass of bushy curls crackling with magical energy the whole while. Daphne followed with Luna close behind.

"Where are we going?" Luna asked wispily. This was after Hermione waspishly beckoned for Daphne to avoid returning to the dungeons.

Soon the answer came, however, when Hermione came to an abrupt stop in front of an office. Knocking firmly against the wooden surface. Moments passed until finally it creaked open to reveal Professor Flitwick who bore a tired expression on his face. It was close to curfew, Daphne supposed to herself. "Miss Granger." Then he peered over at the other two. Nodding stiffly up at them. "Lovegood. Greengrass. You all should be heading to your dormitories soon. Mr. Filch will not be happy otherwise if he finds you wandering about after curfew."

"Could we please speak to you, Professor?" Hermione smiled winningly at him. Daphne was taken aback by the whirlwind change in her friend's attitude. It was as though the girl manipulated Professors who she deemed useful with her rule-abiding attitude while throwing rubbish ones like Lockhart away at every available convenience. "It shouldn't take very long at all, and I am afraid you are the only teacher who is credibly qualified for the matter."

"You really ought to have been sorted into Slytherin, I sometimes think, Hermione." Luna obliviously intoned prompting all of the others to stare at her incredulously.

"Right." Flitwick was still blinking. He made one last, baffled double take in Luna's direction again. "Come in. Sit. Sit." They all found various spots to recline themselves as their Charm's Professor hauled himself up onto a throne of many tall books.

"Professor," Hermione began, "I am not going to mince any words. We have just left the Duelling Club. It was disappointing."

"Well, Miss Granger, Have you shared your concerns with Professor Lockhart?" Flitwick simpered, much to Daphne's silent scorn. Hermione was the dabbest hand at Charms, not that it was that hard of a class. The part-Goblin, part-Wizard was always pandering to his most talented student. "Or maybe Professor Snape?" He had recalled too late that Lockhart was a joke.

"The crux of the matter was that Professor Lockhart… Struggles with the subject matter at hand. Accordingly, Professor Snape mostly focuses on the progress of his Slytherins." Hermione answered in a careful tone. "I feel as though neither of them understand just what it means to be a muggleborn, or not to fit within Salazar Slytherin's caste system. Neither of them will ever have to fear the Chamber's monster as they walk down the halls." She lowered her gaze towards Flitwick's desk. "Not like you or I, Professor. If that is not too forward of me to say." Masterful, Daphne thought.

"Well, Miss Granger, I can understand your concern but-."

"Weren't you a prominent Duelling Champion, Professor?" Luna asked suddenly. Or not so suddenly, for Daphne had begun to notice patterns in the Ravenclaw's behavior. Sometimes it felt, to a terrifying extent, as though Luna was far clever in such situations than any of her new friends. "Some of the older Ravenclaws were discussing it earlier this term."

"Yes, Miss Lovegood." He smiled in a humble way, as though the large smattering of trophies above his head in a cabinet were mere happenstance.

"I think, Professor," Daphne herself finally spoke up, "That Hermione and the other muggleborns would feel much safer if you started another Duelling Club. You are an accomplished duelist, Charm's Master, and all of our peers love your class." Then the Slytherin simply decided to get rid of any remaining pretenses. "Besides. We all know that Gilderoy Lockhart is direly incompetent. There is no further need to skirt around that particular issue any longer." Given that all of the other Professors hated Lockhart as much as the majority of the students it was no surprise that the small man hummed agreeably in response.

Flitwick gazed at each of the three appraisingly. "Well. I suppose we can start our own little group. If enough students continue to come we will just continue on our way…"

"Cedric Diggory will join," Luna proffered with a misty smile. "He left the Club tonight early, and told me how he thinks Professor Lockhart is an arrogant tosse-."

"I can get other muggleborns to attend." Hermione swiftly slapped a hand down on Luna's own. Averting a crisis oversharing of inappropriate information. Swiftly she stood. "Thank you for your help, Professor. Please have a nice evening. We all must be getting back to our dormitories."

"Of course," He responded cheerily. "Stay safe."

OOOO

It was, on reflection, incredibly good fortune that Professor Flitwick had bidden them all to stay safe. After all, Justin Fitch-Fletchley and Ser Nick were attacked that very night. Hermione found herself desperate to understand just what sort of lengths someone was going to to commit such violent crimes. With great discreteness she collected several books regarding Petrification from the Restricted Section. 'Petrification is a beautiful ritual. With fresh blood of a babe, fat from a man, and toe taken from a crone the artist must make a paste. Across the body of their subdued foe, suspended upside down within a circle drawn from Ashwinder Ash, the artist must trace the inverted rune of Eihwaz from groin to teat. With a light touch they must then trace the blade-.'

"What is this?" Cedric appeared suddenly. Hermione scrambled to hide the text until he snatched it away. Quickly the wizard tucked the glinting cover back out of sight. Forcing his long legs into the bench and glaring at her. "People are still suspicious about how you found Moaning Myrtle. Should you really be reading about this?"

"Cedric," Hermione forced her hand over his suddenly, without thinking. "Whoever is petrifying students is not using rituals. They are all deeply complicated, and the sort of thing you can't easily do to a Ghost. None of the human victims show any signs of knife carving. Neither of the scenes we found had Ashwinder Ash residue either." She removed the contact to flip through another forbidden tome. "This is a far more recent," Her nose wrinkled, "And much less sociopathic, description of the process. He claims to have discovered the simplest method of Petrification. It simplifies those components. There is simply no way that the Heir or Monster have enough time between attacks to perform such a complicated spell-."

A hand tugged this book away too. Grey eyes peered sternly at her brown ones. "You might have faced off against Quirrell, Hermione, but this is different. Salazar Slytherin himself is attacking muggleborns from beyond the grave. Stop meddling with this stuff."

"What are you saying, Cedric?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I want you to stay home after break," He answered in a suddenly choked voice. "The Heir has already targeted you. Two students and two Ghosts have already been Petrified. I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt."

There was a stony silence on her end for a moment. "That isn't going to happen, Cedric. You don't understand what it is like. No one does. I know my magical lineage, but the Slytherins still call me a mudblood. I know my heritage, that I am an indisputable member of the magical community. Yet this Heir thinks he can run me out of Hogwarts. Every Purist in Britain thinks they can scare me away to Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny with pitchforks." She pressed the books aside allowing the library to magically resort them back to the Restricted Section. Hermione tossed her sleek hair over one shoulder. "Well that won't happen. Flitwick is going to teach the muggleborns to defend themselves. I am going to find out what is going on since the Professors are, again, proving themselves utterly incompetent."

"Now," She passed him some papers. "I was wondering if you could try translating these ideas into runes." Oblivious to how Cedric clutched the table with a bloodless, white grip. How tired, exhausted eyes spied on them both with every spare chance.

OOOO

Hermione smiled as she slipped out of the taxi. Smoothing out her black, silk blazier, grey pants, and navy-blue, Dior pea coat. Pausing to tip the driver she marched along the sidewalk. Admiring Westminster in the winter the witch enjoyed how her heels clacked loudly on the cement. Turning a corner Hermione hopped up steps that no non-Granger wizard or muggle without special permission could have seen. The door opened before she could even move to touch the door handle. Standing down below her was Wonky. "Hello Miss Granger-Pyrites. The muggles have not yet returned from a trip to their newest practice in Ipswich. Madam Cordelia is waiting for Miss Granger-Pyrites' in the study."

With a snap of its fingers the House Elf caused Hermione's pea coat to levitate onto a nearby stand. In another motion Wonky disapparated with her wrought Hogwarts' trunk in tow. Jumping when the Ghoul in the basements wailed Hermione began to slip forth. She briefly recalled all she had learned in Ghoul Studies and promptly decided to take care of the basement spectre when a spare moment arose. Finally, the girl arrived at the study. Stepping passed the wide open door Hermione saw Cordelia sitting at the desk with mounds of papers in front of her. "Sit, girl," The woman gesticulated brusquely as always.

Hermione did just that, but as gracefully as possible. For several long moments Cordelia worked on something. Quill scratching with a whiplike manner over the documents. "I had a meeting with Dumbledore several days ago," The woman appraised her granddaughter as she placed the quill back in its well. "He informed me of your advancement into the Fourth Year Transfiguration and Potions classes."

"So you already know about the Chamber of Secrets. Did he accuse me of being the Heir?" She asked bluntly in response.

A smile turned up Cordelia's lips. "No, you clever girl. He did not. In fact, the Headmaster was quite polite. He apologized for the trouble caused by his actions this summer. Furthermore the man asked to discuss what reforms the Greengrasses and I might consider putting up for vote when I assume my position in the new year."

"He was buttering you up." Hermione noted dully. She knew Byron would have preferred a circular speech pattern that hinted at the true topic of discussion. Though the muggleborn preferred to be more direct with Cordelia. It seemed sometimes that the old bat tired of such pointless social tangos as well.

"Yes. Why he would wish to befriend us now is beyond my comprehension. Unless the man somehow has realized that a war with us will only ever be pyrrhic in nature. Nonetheless, it is an opportunity I will seize upon. With Dumbledore's support, even if it is temporary, I can accomplish much." Her brown eyes gleamed cunningly, "Most important, by next September Hogwarts will become as competitive as it once was. Before Grindelwald and Voldemort terrorized the Wizarding World, diverting precious Ministry funding from the school." Both of her arms, clad in lushly expensive robes, crossed over each other. "In my father's schooldays Hogwarts lived far more closely to its reputation. Brilliant instructors, many more extracurricular specializations offered for Third Years and NEWT students. An institution where research, prowess, and diligence were rewarded. Of course, I attended a Hogwarts that was merely a shade of his. Your own is no match at all."

"Wonky told me mum and dad are in Ipswich. What is going on with that?" Her voice was foggy with confusion. Uncertain as to why they had said nothing about such a development in their letters.

"The Greengrasses and other individuals or families involved in the Wizarding economy are barred from doing business with muggle entities. As you can imagine, this is frustrating for a family involved with smuggling illicit materials throughout the Wizarding World. I proposed that our vast funds be invested into various muggle businesses." A pause followed the lengthy explanation. "After convincing your parents to manage these establishments I then told the Greengrasses that they could operate out the back. Now they are free to operate in both the magical and non-magical black markets, with storage houses that are not subjected to frequent raids by the Ministry."

"Do my parents know that they are being used as pawns in all manner of illicit dealings?" Hermione retorted sharply.

"No. I also hope it remains that way." Cordelia stared pointedly at her granddaughter. "Your parents have a larger purpose now. They feel better being involved in a safe way, and are doing a swell job of turning out these fronts into legitimate, profitable investments." An eyebrow quirked, "The Greengrasses are cutting us a generous percentage of their profits. Not to mention that such partnerships yield closer connections."

"What you are doing to my parents," Hermione brushed her silky braid over her shoulder, "Are you doing the same to me?"

"In what way?" Cordelia asked in an indulging sort of manner.

"With regards to the Morrigan Blood Feud." Hermione answered simply. "I found out that the Ministry sealed any and all records of it from being published. You knew it would be impossible for me to discover anything at Hogwarts. Now is time for you to give me some answers."

"Do you really want those answers?" A dark look of brutish rage passed beneath Cordelia's thin, uncaring facade.

"Yes." Hermione knew better than to hesitate. They were apparating away only moments later with a loud crack.

OOOO

First, Cedric is definitely in love with Hermione, and he knows it. Just do not start thinking that they will begin dating or anything. Hermione is a modern woman who will pursue whatever option she wants. This is more about Cedric's development than her's. He will begin to change all for the sake of impressing, the incredibly exceptional, Hermione.

Second, I always feel a bit anxious after posting stuff like this. When several big plot developments come I really mull it all over. Sorry for the lateness, but engineering majors really occupy one's time. Who knew.