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...

22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: Omens by Fire.

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

OOOO

"Hello," Bryony Granger smiled at Petunia Dursley with her most charming smile, "We are the Grangers. Here to pick up Harry and all…" The door slammed in her face left the attractive brunette gaping like a fish. "The nerve!" Bryony snarled down in Hermione's direction. "They did know we were coming right?"

"Yes," Hermione answered in a clipped tone. "That is the issue. I told you that I suspected Harry's relatives were abusive and anti-magic. Harry warned me that we would be better off picking him up at the curb."

"I will not abduct a child, Hermione," Bryony hissed in a hushed tone. The upper middle class neighborhood seemed to be filled with gossipy old biddies. Most of whom were peering out from behind their pastel curtains, manicured fingernails gleaming in the sunlight. "It must have been a simple misunderstanding." Breathing deeply the woman pounded on the door. Many long moments passed until the pinch-faced, horsey-necked bint opened it again. "I am Dr. Granger. My daughter is friends with your nephew, Harry." At the lack of response in Petunia's eyes she visibly slumped, "Unless we are at the wrong home… Do you know where the Dursleys live by chance?"

"Shame mum," Hermione interjected blythely, "I suppose that we will just have to knock on the doors of Privet Drive asking for Harry Potter." She had sussed the woman out incredibly well. Almond-shaped eyes widening, Petunia Dursely crossed both arms to glare venomously down at her. "My magic is so uncontrollable after I Obliviated a fully grown man this last term too. Who knows whether this distress might trigger an outburst. Requiring the Memory Reversal Squad to use magic on everyone in this neighborhood…"

"Wicked chit." Petunia hissed through pursed lips. "I have enough trouble with the boy. Without your lot showing up. I refuse to let him spend time with a girl-freak." She spun back to Bryony, "Dr. Granger. If you would not mind reigning in your hussy daughter. The last thing either of us needs is for him to knock her up."

"I am not your chit." Hermione felt an irrational level rage course through her at Tom's nickname being reappropriated in such a vicious way. Her silvery hair began to spark with crackles of energy while the air grew thick with ozone and the smell of hot ink. "Furthermore, better a hussy than a slag who mistreats the orphaned child of her dead, war heroine sister!" Bryony quickly placed a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. Shuffling as though trying to block the witch from sight.

"My mother-in-law corresponded with an All-bus Dumb-Door." Behind her muttered expletives could be heard between Hermione's enraged breaths. "The Headmaster," Bryony opted for the more pronounceable rout that time, "He informed us that Harry only needs to spend two weeks a year here for undisclosed, magical purposes. Ones that you are allegedly aware of."

"I do not know why that is your business." Petunia sneered stiffly.

"Well," The dentist tried to stay calm, "We met Harry two weeks ago when he was visiting London. He is a charming boy, and if his presence causes you distress we have more than enough room to house him for the summer. The means will be no issue." Behind her, Hermione straightened in surprise at that. Her mother had only agreed to let Harry visit for a week. Extending that period to a whole summer could only mean that she pitied the Boy-Who-Lived for having to deal with such an abusive hag. Feeling the glee rise in her throat she listened carefully for the response.

"The whole summer?" Petunia asked greedily.

"And the next, and the one after that too." Bryony answered stiffly. "Harry will come to stay with you for two weeks in June. Then we shall collect him and mind him ourselves."

"If you promise to keep that slut on the pill-."

"That is uncalled for-!" Bryony began to argue before Hermione shoved her out of the way. Wand sticking neatly beneath Petunia's suddenly quivering chin.

"Come on cunt. Call me a hussy or slut again. I bloody dare you." She borrowed Ron's favorite expletive, and for a moment imagined he would be proud of her. Hair crackling again Hermione peered right at Petunia's lowered gaze. "Now. Harry is going to collect his belongings while we sit patiently together in the parlor."

"I don't have a parlor." Petunia snapped with sudden defiance.

"Well, I suppose we will be slumming it up in a living room, mother." Hermione bustled the woman into her own house at wandpoint. "This low class bitch doesn't even have a parlor?" Sniffing indignantly Hermione bellowed at the top of her lungs, "HARRY! PACK YOUR TRUNK." Nothing was said in response as she made her way into the living room. Sitting at the couch was an overweight boy with piggy eyes.

"Who're you?" He jeered, eyes raking in her form. Fingers deeply digging into a potato chip bag.

Digging her jungle boots firmly into the carpet, pushing her black, polygon sunglasses onto her head, she glared at him. "Get out of this house now." Wand pointing suddenly in the Dursley boy's direction. "I hear you like to hunt your cousin. Harry Hunting, was it? If you ever touch him again I will start a new game. Pin the tail on the pig, perhaps?" She rested both hands on her hips. "No. Where is the fun in that when you can't run, fat arse?"

"Y-Y-Y-You lo-lot ca-c-c-can't use m-m-m-ma-ma-."

"Sometimes when I really want something to happen it just… Does." She smiled arrogantly, eyes closing. Hair sparking for the third time as her silvery aura flared into existence. Number Four Privet Drive began to shake for a long moment causing Petunia to yell behind her. The funny thing about making Hogwarts rattle accidentally twice was that small things like houses were no difficulty to muster at all. "Now get. Out. Remember my warning." He scurried from the house as quickly as his bottom would allow him.

Spinning into a plush armchair nearby Hermione noticed Petunia and her mother both standing in the hallway. Staring at her with surprised faces. "You missed your chance to see my lovely, dentist's daughter impression as soon as you called me a hussy. Now chip chop on that tea, motherfucker."

OOOO

Hermione slammed her book shut. Hefting it up on top of a stack of others. All of them equally large and crammed full of blackened sticky notes. "You know, Harry," She cracked her neck, "I am tired of studying."

"What?" Harry looked away from his, laughably easy, summer homework with a concerned look on his face. "Are you alright Hermione?" Looking into his green eyes she shrugged off a prickling feeling along her neck.

"It is well past time for us to get out of this house," She answered firmly. That was true enough. Three days had passed since he was brought home for the duration of summer. While she scuttled about every inch of muggle London and studied her brains out, Harry tried to assert his place with them. When he was not studying ahead for classes, the boy could be caught trying to beat the many House Elves downstairs to cooking, cleaning, and yard work. She did not know which was sadder. That Harry thought manual labor was the way to her parents' hearts, or that she had judged his intellectual capacity for so long. Perhaps if Harry had had the benefit of easy, lazy summers he could have read as much as her. She swore that he would stay with them every summer from that point forth.

Christmases too.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione stood up, "We are going shopping. It is time for you to get more clothes."

Harry's eyes widened exponentially. "But I haven't gotten any money from my account at Gringotts' yet…"

"Pish posh," Hermione dismissed his concern, grabbing her shoes from a closet as they wound through the Townhouse. "You need to come to terms with the fact that I have just as much money as you. If not more." Fingers lacing the trainers up she tossed her bushy hair back. "Besides. There are errands I need to run on Diagon Alley anyways. You can tag along. We might as well make a day of it."

What followed went beyond mere errands. When Hermione was through with Harry Potter, he was the most fashionably dressed wizard in muggle London. That went without mentioning everything the witch bought for her friend in Diagon Alley. Silky robes of all manner of exotic materials, new shoes, most importantly, expensive magical contacts, and they even stopped in the Apothecary. Filing an owl order for Nourishment Potions that would help the physically stunted boy grow to full height. By the time they stopped at Fortescue's for a break Harry was glowing. Almost like he was an entirely new person.

"Harry," Hermione finished half of her cone prior to tossing it in the rubbish bin, "I want you to know something." Her brown eyes searched caringly over his features. No longer dominated by a broken pair of glasses. "You were my first friend. I think of you as a brother."

"Hermione," He protested abashedly. Weakly, she noted.

"No. You are the sibling I never had. My parents already love you. You will always be welcome in our family. That hag you call an aunt is not your family. I am, and you can always count on me to be there for you." She felt tears prick her eyes when Harry reached over the table to put a tentative hand on her own. Wasting no time, the muggleborn twisted hers' so that they could grip each other's palms in a firm handhold.

"You are like a sister to me, 'Mione. I promise that nothing makes me happier than the idea of being part of your family." A watery expression crossed his face as they sat there for a long while. Chatting away like only a close pair of siblings could. Bickering, discussing all topics under the sun and moon. Entirely blissful. When Harry was finished Hermione led him along down towards Ollivander's. "Why are we going here?" He asked cautiously, "What do you have planned?"

"That," She twisted to the left, directly across from Ollivander's shop. In beautiful lettering were the royal purple words, 'Madam Bluebonnet's Wand Boutique.' "My first venture into business." Her voice was tinged with deep pride. "I own a twenty-percent share in her shop, and one of her wands. I even helped with setting it all up the other day." Perhaps the most striking difference between the two competing wand shops were the window fronts. Where Ollivander's had a dusty, ancient, archaic display, Madam Bluebonnet's Boutique possessed muggleborn-friendly information. The high quality display explaining the generalities of her own, unique process. "It is going to be a right smash. Do you think any parent of a muggleborn will go to Ollivander's? Not when they can inform themselves sufficiently just by looking at these windows."

"It is brilliant," Harry grinned cheekily, "Though I can't say I am surprised."

With that she tugged him off to her next errand. Examining properties on Diagon Alley with a witch who seemed to be the equivalent of a wizarding realtor. "These two properties will be stretching my savings," Hermione admitted quietly as they stepped through the second property which happened to be an office space. "Although I can always dip into the trust Cordelia set aside for me."

"What were you planning?" Harry asked, quite impressed by his friend in that moment. She was opening businesses on Diagon Alley like it meant nothing.

"The Elf Advancement Organization needs an office space. Before the public is misled when we go public I need to start a formal group dedicated to defending our mission. It won't be cheap, unfortunately. Which is why I am planning on opening a gourmet, restaurant in the other spot we visited." Her eyes glimmered, "Can you imagine how many adults miss the House Elf cooking at Hogwarts? Instant cash cow."

"House Elves cook the food at Hogwarts?" Harry asked with surprise.

"I barely came to terms with it," Hermione answered in turn, "Until I realized something. There are some horrible people in the Wizarding World. Most of them I know or am somehow related to. Better those poor House Elves be employed at Hogwarts for the moment than stuck with Lucius Malfoy. One day, though, I hope that all Elves will have at least the right to a choice." They bid farewell to the realtor while eyeing the sinking sun. "There is one last thing we need to investigate, but I doubt you will like it."

"What?" Harry felt so disoriented he wondered if any more surprises could be coped with.

"We need to sort out the state of your inheritance before my grandmother meets you. I will not have her trying to manipulate you like some sort of pawn. That includes being as informed as possible."

"Is she that bad?" He rebutted.

"In her own vile way," Hermione answered with a ghost of a smile, "But I love her anyways."

OOOO

"Excuse me," Hermione sighed, rubbing both of her eyes, "You cannot mean to tell me that Harry is also the heir to House Black?"

"Yes," The Potter Accountant, Snagglefang, had greeted them with all the charm generally possessed by Goblins. "Mr. Potter is the godson of Sirius Black. Before the man was sent to Azkaban for betraying the location of the Potters he named you as heir."

"What is House Black?" Harry felt his voice was laced with anger. The realization of who had turned his parents over to Voldemort not giving him any relief. Another outlet for resentment was no better than the first few.

"They were very important." Hermione answered. "Came here a millennia ago. Shaped the archaic laws which guide the Wizarding World today. Many were Death Eaters, died childless, or were disinherited." She did not see fit to remind him how many others were in Azkaban. He already knew. "I think that Lucius Malfoy is married to one. It is good to know that Malfoy won't be getting their money at least. From what I understand the Blacks were very wealthy."

"Yes," Snagglefang agreed simplistically again, "They were. The Black accounts far outpace those of the Potters." He passed over files to Harry then. "These documents describe the estates you stand to inherit, or already possess as an orphan. All of these matters could stand to see some maintenance by an actual scion."

"Who has been dealing with the accounts since… Everything that happened?" Hermione snapped suddenly.

"I have been in charge of the Potter accounts since 1981. Many attempted to wrest control of Mr. Potter's finances, but Albus Dumbledore beat all contestants in the Wizengamot. Then the Black affairs were overseen by Arcturus Black until 1991 when he passed away." A pause followed, "Oddly, the man never saw fit to disinherit Sirius Black, which means that Mr. Potter is still the heir."

"Given Mr. Black's incarceration how much influence does Harry have over the Black estate?" She wondered. This situation was quite financial in nature and very unique. Well beyond the scope of her legal lessons with Byron.

"He will not have access to the main Black vaults until Sirius Black has passed away. However, there is a personal vault which I can always have moved into the Potter vault. The Potter wealth stands at around six-million Galleons, after the heavy inheritance tax imposed by the Wizengamot in the 1980's to fund reconstruction efforts. Black's personal vault adds half-a-million to that sum. The main Black Vault will one day leave Mr. Potter worth a total addition of five-million Galleons. There is the matter of a frozen seat for Houses Black and Potter on the Wizengamot. They will remain as such until Mr. Potter contests that status. I recommend undertaking such a process no sooner than after he has completed his OWLs."

A large breath was, understandably, needed. Then a dark smile criss-crossed the Goblin's face. "Mr. Potter cannot withdraw any funds from the main Black vault presently. However, he can assign its care to myself in that time. I would then possess the power to disinherit several members of the Black House from withdrawing the post-mortem allowances left to them by Arcturus Black. Given that there are only seven-million Galleons in that vault compared to the nine-million which it held in 1991, I have just cause to remove the leeches."

"We will examine the individuals listed ourselves, then respond to your suggestion by owl," Hermione handled it briskly. "What of stocks?"

"The Blacks owned an extensive stock portfolio. One I will continue to manage once Mr. Potter transfers control of that account to myself." He answered in turn, "The Potters have been incredibly contributive to the Potions industry. Many important brands have been invented by Mr. Potter's ancestors. Skelegrow and Pepperup being two of them." Both of the children gasped at that development. "Then, more recently, your grandfather sold his Sleakeazy product line at a great profit whilst maintaining a twelve percent ownership of the company." Hermione could only wonder at how coincidences managed to work in such strange ways. "What about properties, Mr. Snagglefang?"

"The Blacks own a villa in Barcelona, a mansion and a chateau in France, a defunct Erumpent Horn farm in Africa, as well as a poorly maintained Wizarding hotel in Hong Kong. A residence in London called Number Twelve Grimmauld Place is protected under heavy enchantments and possesses the lone surviving House Elf of the Blacks." His punctual response left Hermione feeling somewhat at a loss for words. Harry definitely was much, much wealthier than her. Though peeking at his face she could see only ashen flesh and downcast eyes. Blood money, she decided, and he was certainly not better off for having any of it. "The Potters have no House Elves living any longer. They once owned the cottage where the Dark Lord fell. Only the British Ministry, questionably, requisitioned it as a landmark. Then there is a small fortress of sorts, in disrepair, on the Isle of Wight."

"We need to check on that House Elf then," She tsked, before asking a curious question. "Does Harry have any influence over those other properties?"

"He cannot sell them until Sirius Black has passed away, but he is allowed to make decisions as to how they are utilized. Given that Black is presently in Azkaban."

"What are you planning?" Harry wondered aloud suddenly. As if hoping she had some bright idea which could leave him feeling at least a bit better.

"A breeding farm for Erumpents sounds wildly barbaric," She nearly spat, "Nicolas told me he fought alongside Newt Scamander during the war with Grindelwald. Perhaps I could arrange a meeting so we can ask if Mr. Scamander will help us turn it into a sanctuary. Many magical animals in Africa are endangered after all. If anyone can help it is definitely the father of Wizarding conservation."

"Or you could have me bring the farm back into operation," The Goblin corrected nastily. "Miss Granger's idea is more likely to leave your bank coffers drained than replenished."

"I trust Hermione's input, actually," Harry corrected firmly, "Maybe we could even try to help elephants at the same time." The light was back in his eyes, and that was all Hermione needed.

OOOO

It was in the first week of July that Hermione managed to strike Pernelle Flamel with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. The woman hobbling down momentarily before lashing out more viciously than before. Her powerful magic managing to overwhelm the muggleborn like it never had. The earth in the courtyard swallowing her ankles while the wind ripped her wand mightily from her fingertips. Then, a nearby watering trough was emptied prior to surrounding her in its horrifying totality for what seemed like a very long time. Once released she slumped onto her stomach tiredly on the ground. Hissing for breath. Feeling more discouraged than ever before. "I can't beat you. They don't teach that kind of magic at Hogwarts." Hermione hissed. "You fight with raw nature and I don't understand how."

"Good. I have broken your spirit," Pernelle remarked coyly after making her way over to where Hermione dripped beneath the cloudy sky. "Half the struggle is demonstrating what you view as duelling is realistic for ninety percent of the Wizarding population. Dumbledore, Voldemort, Grindelwald, myself, and a handful of others cannot be overcome by mere Jelly-Leg's Jinxes. We have transcended such maneuvers. Some come close to matching us, but not quite. I intend to start you on that path. Whether you will fully reach the destination is to be determined."

"How do I do it?" Hermione asked in a suddenly firm voice, fighting through the pain of her cuts and bruises, battling off the exhaustion.

"You must become one with what you are attempting to master. The difference between a Shocking Spell and actual lightning is learning in a classroom versus dedicating time on a broom in the storm clouds. Standing in an ocean for months on end makes the difference between conjuring a thin stream or a tsunami." Her eyes were tight. "Much sacrifice and dedication is required to make that next step." A hand reached out to smooth Hermione's hair which suddenly crackled with energy again. "You have power. Such magic that no Professor at Hogwarts could help you learn to control. Only you have the ability to do so. It will be a long process, but you must not give up."

"What. Do. I. Need. To. Do?" Hermione enunciated each word firmly. She was prepared for success after so much failure. Hungry for it.

"My silly girl," Pernelle laughed, an ugly, scoffing thing, "Have you listened to a word I have said?" Then with a flash of glittering, white teeth, the woman moved back into the sprawling house.

Hermione suspected that she had encountered real magic for the first time in her life. The sort that could not be taught.

OOOO

Harry could not believe he was walking about with the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. No, the boy was not as book crazy as Hermione. Yet even he could appreciate meeting such an icon in Wizarding Britain. The rise of Dark Wizards was a topic which Harry did not know much about beyond Voldemort, given that Binns only focused on Goblin Rebellions. However, he felt a certain kinship in that regard after having heard from Hermione about Mr. Scamander's alleged interactions with Grindelwald. "Tell me, Mr. Potter," The somewhat awkward old man leant heavily onto his cane, face twitching, while Harry scratched at the ears of one of his pet Crups. "Do you like animals?"

The Boy-Who-Lived considered that question for a long moment. "Yes, I suppose. I have a snowy owl named Hedwig back at home. I just didn't get… A load of opportunities to see animals during my childhood." He snorted somewhat to himself, "Then there is my friend, er, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Hagrid. Hermione and I have run into some crazy things with him. There was the three-headed Cerberus named Fluffy, who tried to kill us, a Norwegian Ridgeback hatched in his hut this other time, but we were nearly expelled over it, Centaurs, then last year I met Hagrid's Acromantula named Aragog. Who tried to kill us too. Honestly, I like animals when they aren't looking to murder Hermione or I."

"I know Hagrid," Mr. Scamander smiled, "He has been a good friend of mine over the years. In fact, I am the one who gave him that Acromantula egg in the first place."

"You did? Harry asked in utter shock.

"Yes. I never intended for him to escape into the Forbidden Forest and produce an Acromantula Colony in Britain though." The man twitched into another of his uncomfortable smiles. "Is it true, Mr. Potter, that you are capable of speaking Parseltongue."

"Yes," Harry answered tersely, trying not to think of the last year.

"I hate to bring back unwanted memories, but I think you could help me greatly in taking my former conservation efforts to new heights." Newt Scamander filled in the quiet quickly enough.

"How?" Harry wondered in surprise, "I am only barely about to turn thirteen. How could I help you?"

"Clearly," Mr. Scamander remarked dryly, "You have a natural talent for running into Magical Creatures. I imagine that you would be greatly benefited by working with me for a summer, or maybe even longer than just this summer. The next time a ravenous pack of Acromantulas hunt you down it would be much more easy to handle them after you study with me." Another pause, "Then there is the matter of your ability. You are an incredible opportunity for reptilian creatures all across the world Harry! A chance for them to have a voice in the face of injustice. Do you honestly think that such a chance should be squandered? Dark Wizards have only ever used that ability for their own gain, but you could make a real difference."

Harry stopped suddenly, "So you would want me to visit the Erumpent farm with you in Africa this summer?"

"Yes, with my son Rolf as well, and Tina. You could call it an apprenticeship of sorts. The Blacks owned the largest Erumpent farm operating in this last century. I dealt with them in my youth. If we turn it into a conservation much good might come out of all the evil that has been sown." Then his eyes sparkled, "We could help more than Erumpents with your gift Harry. Are you interested in helping me with this?"

Only a split-moment's consideration was required before Harry smiled brightly. "Its a deal, Mr. Scamander."

OOOO

Her plot with Newt Scamander had worked somewhat too well. So impressed with the Boy-Who-Lived was the Magizoologist that he offered Harry an internship with him for that summer. So that they could work together on opening the newest Erumpent-Elephant protection reservation in Africa. Alone again the youngest Granger fell back into the workaholic patterns that consumed her entire bloodline. Bryony had become an incredibly dab hand at business and a member of local councils. Her father travelling to other countries for business opportunities. Cordelia working on several secret projects.

Hermione herself was entirely consumed with, well, everything. Occlumency, Divination, Runes, Alchemy, Arithmancy, modelling, House Elves, Gringotts, investments. Now on top of it there was the gap where her lessons with Pernelle used to be. The other day spent with her standing beneath the pounding rain of their courtyard for an hour. Conjuring water until massive, thick globes of the liquid were spinning off the tip of her wand. Every ounce of her being was dedicated to self-growth in an environment where people were not incessantly telling her to slow down and nap or breathe.

She loved it dearly.

On a Monday in the second week of July, Hermione found herself performing individual research in Nicolas' laboratory. She had finally taken it as a chance to decipher the Villis Malificus further. Unveiling many complex, dark Potions' recipes in the process which she wasted no time at all getting to brewing. "Hermione." Nicolas croaked out, "Don't you leave early on every second Monday?"

The academically driven addict jumped in shock at the realization that he was correct. "Fuck, am I late," She hissed to herself. Storming back through London to the Townhouse. Changing hurriedly into her nicest set of robes, scarlett with silver trim, heels taller than her usual pair, all whilst smoothing Sleakeazy into the chaotic tresses. Feet clicking loudly throughout the house Hermione stormed into the fireplace, throwing down Floo Powder whilst saying, "Fawley Residence."

A grumpy old witch served as the Floo attendant. "They all are in the yard." She sniffed at Hermione's frazzled eyes.

Taking that advice in stride Hermione made sure to calm down whilst marching through the opulent home into the expansive back garden. Fountains, gardens, benches, tables laden with delicious food, never to be eaten of course, and Wizarding Society's creme-de-la-creme bustled about in the space between. Smiling pleasantly at the first few Witch's League members she encountered the muggleborn suddenly stiffened at a regal voice. "You are late, Miss Granger."

"I apologize, Lady Shafiq," She intoned in her sincerest voice. "My work with the Flamels has been incredibly time consuming. In the future I will attempt to depart from their residence at a sooner opportunity." Hermione never flaunted the Flamels about to get out of trouble, but she was desperate to avoid a confrontation. A harrumph meant that the girl was free to mingle with Pure-blooded and Half-blooded debutantes.

"I suppose if I were a mudblood I would have to work like a peasant too," Pansy Parkinson chortled nearby behind Hermione's back. "It is not as though a man of suitable birth and wealth would be willing to wed Granger anyways…" Determined to ignore it all the nearly fourteen-year-old girl gracefully grabbed a flute of Pumpkin Juice from a passing waiter.

"Yes, Pansy," A familiar voice sneered, "How unfortunate that Hermione lacks a pool of cousins in her marriage pool to choose from. Inbred babies have been the popular choice for your family. Obviously."

"Daphne," Hermione sighed relievedly as the pretty blonde slunk up beside her. "How are things at the Ministry. I have just been so busy lately."

"Well enough," Daphne answered, "I have been busy brown-nosing pompous officials who I have no intention of ever working for. My cousin loaned me out like a whore to the DMLE to rearrange files. So my focus has been impressing Madam Bones enough for her to let me apply for an internship next summer." They stood close together. "The Ceremony of the Flowers is today." An eye-roll followed that closely.

"Ugh," Hermione tossed back the Pumpkin Juice with a wry grimace. "Have you been planning your Debut much?"

"You act as though I have any say. My mother has been planning the blasted thing since I clawed out of her vagina," Daphne sighed. Prompting them both to giggle conspiratorially.

"What is so funny?" Marnie Macmillian asked in a snide tone from nearby. The older girl was Lady Shafiq's pet. Many of her enemies had been eliminated from the League after overheard secrets managed to spill out mysteriously from thin air. Lady Shafiq's uncommon ability for high-powered matchmaking meant that many young women vied to be her favorite. That could make the difference between wedding Marcus Flint, or Gregory Goyle after all. Both she and Daphne were there for connection-building purposes, as well as against their will, so Marnie tended to ignore them. Having been thrust into the spotlight painted a big target on both their backs however. Who wanted to wed their son to plain Marnie when they could have the talented Greengrass daughter, or Hermione Granger.

"Ladies do not eavesdrop," Hermione bit back firmly as she and Daphne followed the other girls to their respective seats. "Did you like my impression of Shafiq?" Her voice whispered to Daphne while the ceremony began. A large stage had been erected at the head of the many, many tables. Hundreds of Britain's most elite witches peering eagerly upwards. This was, after all, apparently, the Ceremony of the Flowers. Each teenager being given a flower which would symbolize the day and theme of her Social Debut. The tradition having begun as a way to undermine the competitive streaks most fourteen-year-olds displayed in trying to upstage one another. Both Daphne and Hermione were the oldest in their year at Hogwarts which meant they would be the only two Third Years to suffer through a debut by the end of that summer.

"Nothing can match the real thing." Daphne remarked as Lady Shafiq arrived at the microphone.

"Welcome." The elderly woman, still possessing traces of a former beauty, smiled skillfully at the cameraman standing by the foot of the stage. This was after all the most publicized Witch's League event of the year. Purebloods at the Ministry loved to discuss which family would align itself with another family. Downtrodden muggleborns and Half-bloods enjoying the spectacle of something they could never have. Hermione's blood boiled at the realization that she was participating in such elite snobbery. Especially when the Flamels, Dobby, Tom Riddle, and her research had taught her that there was so much more to being charitable, powerful, and influential. "First, a few announcements regarding our agenda for the next year."

What followed was a declaration that they would be offering free courses in manners and etiquette to the less fortunate. Hermione rolled her eyes at the snub against muggleborns. A class who were less fortunate only because they were denied any job opportunities. Then there was a brief awards session for the older girls who had made great 'contributions' to civilized society. Half of them being pregnant, Hogwarts' and Beauxbatons' drop-outs. "As with every year, between that spot in the summer and autumn is when many of our younger members become women. Flowers are beautiful, gracious, and pleasantly scented, as any Lady ought to be. Yet there is a strength behind them. A subtle power to the feminine matters." Her smile was taut as always, "When I say your name, you will step onto the stage and select a flower at random from this basket."

Sighing at the torture she started when Shafiq officially began the Ceremony of Flowers. "Morna Hildegard," She called, prompting a Fourth Year Hogwarts student to slip onto the large stage. Reaching into a massive, wicker basket not long after. "The Gazania shall be the flower that guides you path in life." Daphne was called several names later. She withdrew a Dahlia. Hermione sighed. That was one of the three best options. Styling a Debut after Water Lilies and Bleeding Hearts was no easy matter. The muggleborn hoped desperately for the Orchid or Rose. Then, third to last, her name was called. The photographer began to eagerly snap photos at a more rapid pace than before. Likely the gossip columns would be speculating about her change of hair colour for days to come.

Gliding as gracefully across the stage as possible Hermione reached into the basket to grab a flower. Her fingers wrapping around a stem before pulling out a brilliant, pearly-white Orchid. For a brief moment the teenager gasped in relief. Only for the world to turn upside down. The stage floor in front of where she stood next to Lady Shafiq exploded mightily upwards as a rushing mass of scales surged into the sunlight. To her credit Lady Shafiq did not run away screaming. Stepping protectively in front of Hermione before the foe slashed her throat to ribbons. As everyone screamed chaotically the muggleborn found herself facing off against an old friend.

"The Dark Lord punished me severely for failing him last summer," The Snakeman no longer looked the same. Half of his face had been severely burnt with one of those yellow eyes now a milky white. She struggled for her wand only for the beast to swipe his mighty claws through the air. Ripping bloody marks through her arm and knocking her down to the ground. "I will not fail him now." Preparing for a killing blow the assassin glared venomously at her with his remaining good eye.

Tom was not there to save her, Hermione realized, and she felt utterly useless. "STUPEFY!" From the middle of the bustling, surging crowd came an icy voice as brilliant red light flashed into the Snakeman's back. Sending him somersaulting violently over Hermione's head. Then Daphne was swallowed beneath the stampede of women running back towards the Fawley house.

Not wasting a moment this time Hermione wrenched her wand into the air. Spinning around to face the monster. A dark Curse from the Villis Malificus was fired from her wand as the thing vaulted back towards her as an inhuman blur. Not even phased by Daphne's powerful Stunner. A roar of agony rattled the air while its mighty tail sent her flying several feet away. Tasting copper from having bit her tongue the muggleborn looked up in time to find that nothing was there. Creeping to both feet she kept her wand levelled straight while spinning about in an even circle. A clawed hand burst back out of the stage floor causing the disoriented girl to realize where Snakeman had gone.

"Brackium Emendo!" She suddenly remembered stories about the spell Lockhart had used on Harry the year before. A flash of blue light left the dangerously strong lizard with a floppy wrist and hand. "Abscindliel!" Hermione bellowed firmly causing the trapped limb to be severed off in a stream of red blood. "Confringo!" She pointed around her, causing parts of the stage floor to explode. Then when that did not work Hermione conjured magical arrows, a recent accomplishment thanks to Pernelle, that pierced deeply beneath her feet. Pausing for a moment. Heart pounding, she moved backwards nervously towards the edge of the stage.

Predictably, the violent beast surged upwards at that moment prompting her to fire another spell last minute. "BOMBARDA!" Unfortunately her spell, though much more powerful than when it had been used against Quirrell, was aimed lower than the Snakeman's body. As he knocked her backwards onto the grass whatever was left of the stage's surface exploded fiercely upwards into a shower of twigs, splinters, beams, and Lady Shafiq's body. Her very first Curse had struck home for the Snakeman was not only missing a wrist, but his left arm was shrivelled like a prune. With no other method of assault he struck downwards with his fanged mouth. Her opponent's lack of arms enabled Hermione to throw him off to the side.

Wasting no time the violent creature struck at her as she stumbled dizzily back onto both feet. "Impedimenta!" She wailed, causing him to fall back, stumbling onto a table in turn. Sticky pastries exploding against the back of her head. Slipping up by pressing her hips firmly back into the table the witch steeled herself. Breathing deeply, stilling her quavering wrist. "Aguamenti!" Her wand began to produce a stream of water which soon transformed into a ball of water that raged against the tip. Nothing of this magnitude had been produced during her self-practice in the rain the other day. "Glacius!" Her clever mind intuited the best course of action as the Snakeman lunged upwards for the final time. "Depulso! "

The collision between his fanged face and her massive ball of ice was instantaneous. So swift that the explosion of his head in a splattering of gore almost seemed unreal. Collapsing into the grass, clutching at her wand Hermione Granger noticed that the camera man still crouched nearby. Like a coward. Snapping pictures of everything that had happened. From the bloody grass, Lady Shafiq's corpse, Hermione herself, and the dry, destroyed timber of the former stage which now burned bright after her Blast Curses caught it aflame. Roaring high above her against the brilliant summer skyline.

That was when things started to get strange, and her eyes rolled into her head.

OOOO

So, I really managed to push out a chapter quickly. Yikes. Fourteen pages in a day. Lets just call this a goodbye until my final exams for summer semester are finished next week. Wish me luck! See y'all soon;)