Chapter Twenty-Six: The Kingmaker.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
Summary: Hermione ruins some Death Eater bitch named Tyche Travers when she manifests a terrifying new skill. Daphne has been steadily exposed to the idea of feminism, especially after many secret trips to muggle London. Britain is beginning to assemble itself, somewhat early, around the idea that Voldemort is indeed still, technically, 'alive' out there. Luna Lovegood is a Prophet, whatever that means. Dumbledore is still pulling strings even though chaos has a penchant for all of Europe. Harry has been on an amends making mission after learning he is the heir to House Black.
OOOO
"Would you like any sugar or milk?" Andromeda Tonks asked, visibly awkward in their presence. She brushed down her wrinkled Healer robes before setting the saucers elegantly down in front of them both. Slipping back into her own seat the woman half-smiled at Harry, eyes darting nervously towards Hermione before flicking back again.
"Erm, thank you for the tea, Mrs. Tonks," Harry smiled before tentatively sipping from his cup.
"Why are you here?" She asked suddenly, with a very pained face. "You must know what my cousin did to your parents? What my horrible, sociopathic sister did? Why she is in Azkaban?"
"Harry did not expect to come into this inheritance. He did not enjoy the idea of getting anything from Sirius Black." Hermione came to her friend's defense. Andromeda's eyes flickered, yet she finally turned her head fully towards the younger witch. "At the start of this summer we decided it would be very nice indeed if he used the Black fortune to do something good. To make up for so many centuries of awful bigotry."
"Did he?" Andromeda suddenly seemed stiff. "I don't need charity. I have worked hard for what I have. My daughter is training to become an Auror. Teddy and I have finally paid off the loan on our house. Just last year, my superior awarded me with my own research clinic at St. Mungoes. I am an accomplished woman, and I did it all with no help from the most insane House of Black." She took a deep breath, chest still heaving. "Please do not take that as an insult. You both are not responsible for any of House Black's misdeeds, and came here with such nice intentions. The scars that my family left on me are too deep to be soothed by money."
"I didn't come here to offer you money." Harry answered quickly, "Though I am more than willing to give you support if you ever need it, Mrs. Tonks. My Accountant at Gringotts cut off any leeches who were still receiving any funds from the Black vault. Any properties have been vacated, all assets returned. We then stopped by Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and Hermione noticed the faces blasted off of that tapestry."
"They disowned us that way. My own mother dragged me by the hair into that room and made me watch as Sirius' mother incinerated me from the tapestry…" Andromeda Tonks shook her head as though breaking free of an unpleasant trance.
"Well… Hermione had the idea that we could do some more good. I turned the Black Erumpent horn farm into a conservation with Newt Scamander this summer, you see?" He paused with a hopeful face. "We started with Iola Hitchens and paid for her great-great granddaughter's college tuition. Then there was one of the Phineases-."
"Filthy supporter of rights for animals, muggleborns, who got what he deserved," Mrs. Tonks spat out, eyes hard. "I remember him. My father would get drunk and muse about what he would do with Phineas' muggleborn wife if he ever got the chance." She sipped her tea, "Then he had the audacity to wonder why I married a muggleborn myself."
"Harry made a donation to the muggleborn advocacy group that Phineas helped helm while he was alive. Then we also tracked down the descendants of several Squibs to make amends there as well." She interlocked her fingers with a sad sigh. "Harry and I did not come here to pay you off. We actually were curious if you might do him a favour?"
"There is a Wizengamot seat for your family that has gone unclaimed." The Boy-Who-Lived peered hopefully at her face. "I am not old enough to sit on it, and it does not seem right to either. I was raised by muggles. Its hardly like I am ready at all to begin tearing apart the Purist establishment brick-by-brick yet. So I had hoped maybe you could take charge of your familial vote for me. Until I am seventeen and I can officially designate it to you."
She stared at them with a surprised face, and a slightly slackened jaw. "I never expected that…"
"You do not have to decide right now Mrs. Tonks." Hermione smiled brightly, noting again how the woman's eyes flickered away from her own. She set the teacup down, feeling quite tired of being in the strange woman's company. Standing to both feet the thirteen-year-old crossed her arms. Not listening as they were guided back to the fireplace. Harry disappearing first into the eruption of green flames.
Her arm was grabbed tightly by the elbow as she reached up to clutch some Floo Powder. "I am sorry, Miss Granger," Mrs. Tonks' eyes were very dark, "It is hard to look someone in the eyes when you know what they are capable of unearthing. Even I, a witch of little import in the political world, have secrets I do not want shared. Though it is hardly your fault you were born with the talent to see such things. Hopefully I will have a chance in the future to make amends for how I treated you today."
Face softening, Hermione nodded in response. "Perhaps you could come to my Societal Debut? You can tell Harry and I of your decision then. The perfect venue to make such a big announcement, if that is what you decide on, at least."
"Of course," Mrs. Tonks nodded easily, "I would not miss it for the world."
Hermione vanished away in the fireplace, after Harry, and went back to Pyrites' Townhouse.
OOOO
Daphne was quite elated. Perhaps Pureblood tradition was a bit dry and stuffy compared to the muggle world. Her secret trips to London, muggle London, had only grown in quantity since Gilderoy Lockhart was sentenced to life in Azkaban. However, the nicest thing about her culture happened to be that though the most momentous moments came sparingly, they were quite invigorating. Preening beneath the harsh gaze of Wizarding Britain, she admired the theme of her Societal Debut. Dahlias were not quite as exquisite as roses, or Hermione's orchid, yet she had done phenomenally well decorating her grandfather's villa.
Typically the young witches who drew her particular flower tended to embrace light pinks or brilliant yellows. She had not gone that route. The entire villa had been decorated with the darkest of dahlias. Thousands of them. Drawing inspiration from Nearly Headless Nick's Death Day Party a somber group of ghosts played loud, summery, classical songs. The expansive walls facing the Celtic Sea had been temporarily vanished painting the ballroom in glimmering, summer light. The hundreds of guests had not been issued any formal dress code. Meaning that they had all arrived in their favoured shades of the dahlia. Blues, yellows, pinks, and even oranges dominated the villa.
Her own dress was silky black, with a daringly low neckline and no sleeves. To accommodate her mother's more conservative taste the skirts billowed out with much more flair. However, Daphne had secretly journeyed to Glimpa's House of Haute Couture the day earlier where the House Elves had worked wonders. Bold knives that perfectly resembled the pointed leaves of a dahlia's petals rustled majestically on Daphne's skirts. "Miss Daphne is so lovely," Tinsy, the House Elf who had practically raised her, boasted adoringly. As they descended down the steps from the perch where they had been observing the party. Hair swinging loosely at her elbows, a crown of black dahlias atop her head, Daphne Greengrass momentarily forgot all about muggle London's splendor.
Cameras flashed nearby as she gracefully slunk down the marble steps. Remembering all of the lessons on demurity and elegance she had been given since her childhood. Face bright with a smile Daphne soon lost herself in a whirlwind of courtesies and responsibilities. Nearly all of Pureblood society was there. Obviously not the Purists considering that Daphne was now a glittering, blood traitor diamond in Albus Dumbledore's crown. None of that mattered though. What might have been several empty seats were filled by the Marchbanks, Ogdens, Boneses, and many other important families. Slipping away from the dance floor as it turned to a lively tango the girl finally found her friends. Cedric and Hermione sat together at a table, cheeks flushed a ruddy colour, likely after taking part in the dancing.
Cedric wore a dapper set of robes that complimented his golden skin tone. Hermione, in contrast, wore a backless, gossamer gown of an aquamarine blue which was daringly muggle in taste. Daphne smiled brightly at the sight of her friend's furious, brown curls fighting against her sleek updo. Enjoying the sight of Hermione with her trademark brown hair returned to its proper state, she approached them. "I am so honored to have hosted the venue of your first date!" The witch grinned tauntingly.
Hermione blanched in surprise at the direct statement. Cedric turned a blushing shade of red. "I came with Harry," She said in a delicate, nervous tone, "But Cedric is the better dancer by leagues."
"For now," Harry Potter appeared from practically nowhere. "If I have to go to anymore of these events I suppose I'll need to learn to dance properly to avoid being embarrassed…"
"Careful Potter," Daphne smiled frostily, "That's how us Purebloods get you in our clutches. We whisper and titter behind folded hands. Then the next thing you know you are dancing an Irish jig just to gain our approval."
"I feel like you are all bark, and no bite, Greengrass," Harry countered. Moving to sit at the table by Hermione. Daphne ignored how he had somehow managed to grow a whole foot in only two months and his shockingly fashionable robes, no doubt picked by Hermione. Instead the girl focused on the almost visible tension that existed between Cedric and his oblivious crush.
"Dance with me Hermione." The girl reached out a hand to her friend. "I insist, its my party."
"Careful Daphne," Hermione Granger-Pyrites huffed, semi-bushy hair swinging as she stood. Slapping her hand into the other witches'. "Next they'll be crowing in the Daily Prophet about how you're the newest, wealthy Pureblood trapped in my deranged, mudblooded gaze." They began to dance elegantly with one another in the center of the ballroom floor. Many other people stopped to whisper and mumbled at the unorthodox dancing duo.
"You are utterly obtuse Hermione Granger!" Daphne snapped as she stepped back into her friend's orbit.
"What?" The muggleborn blinked surprisedly, certainly not used to having her intelligence insulted.
"Cedric Diggory fancies you." Daphne sighed in an annoyed tenor. Their feet still moving perfectly in tandem, the fabric of their gowns brushing against one another. "You clearly fancy him back. Luckily you have a friend who simply cannot wait years for something to come of it all!"
"Excuse me?" Hermione snapped, "How-He-What?"
"He is smitten. Enamored. Beguiled. Are any of these words making sense to you, bookworm?"
"But he is Cedric," Hermione continued to splutter, dancing lapsing in quality as she continued to fumble with the overload of information. "He could have any girl in Hogwarts. Why would he want a silly Third Year like me?"
"First, we are the two oldest girls in our year, and you are much too clever for any of the sods our age. The age difference isn't that drastic," The blonde rolled her eyes, "Its hardly as though you are considering plonking with Snape in the Slytherin Common Room. Second, never insult yourself again. You are hardly a simpering little bitch like Pansy Parkinson or Lavender Brown. They are silly. You are in advanced classes for Potions and Transfiguration. You have trained with the Flamels. Fought off Voldemort. Quirrell. Lockhart. Think of all of those powerful magicals who Lockhart fooled. If you can't handle kissing a boy-."
"Kissing?!" Hermione looked about ready to faint.
"Yes, kissing. If you can't kiss a boy after all of those other things you have accomplished, then I misjudged you terribly." Spinning away from the other girl with a grin, Daphne strode back off to the side. Peeking back once more to see Hermione still standing there.
"The seeds have been planted then, have they?" She spun around to find her aunt, Matilda Blishwick nee Greengrass, standing behind her. The woman was a gorgeous, willowy blonde with deep blue eyes. Daphne had long aspired to be like the glamorous woman though recently she was much too ambitious for a good marriage and a pack of unruly children. She aspired to become the most accomplished magical their family had ever seen.
"Yes," Daphne answered carefully, "Hermione needed her eyes opened. She likes to be prepared, and things will go far better if she is the one to approach Cedric."
"Clever little matchmaker, just like your Auntie Tildy," The older witch cooed prettily. She smoothed her sleek, royal purple robes carefully. Eyes flickering about carefully. "Perhaps we might share a moment on the balcony? I find myself needing a bit of fresh air."
"Of course Auntie," Daphne nodded obediently as they slipped through the crowd to one of the balconies that overlooked the Celtic Sea.
Her aunt wasted no time casting silencing spells and Alarm Charms in case anyone approached them. "You know we have always gotten along so well because our positions in the family are so similar. Do what we are told, when we are told, no matter the cost, and wed respectably if we cannot marry well." Her lovely face was crumpled with sadness. "I had thought that with your friendship with Hermione Granger, with you proving talented enough to become the BYR… But it was only a different face on the same coin." She shook her head of loose, golden curls. "We are so alike, yet I have always been able to see how much stronger you were than me."
"What is going on, Auntie Tildy?" Daphne wondered with a nervous quaver to her voice.
"Your grandfather and mother, those scheming bastards," Matilda Blishwick sighed sympathetically, "Are going to tell you something tonight. You must act entirely surprised. They cannot know what I told you." She put a hand on the stone ledge. "They have taken advantage of our sudden favorability with Dumbledore to form a betrothal with one of his allies. By the end of the night you shall be betrothed to Neville Longbottom."
Daphne's mouth fell open. Then her eyes turned to blazing stones. Her mouth was wired shut. "The fuck I will." She thought of the simpering, rotund, pitiful excuse for a wizard. They likely imagined with her talent and power that the Longbottoms could one day be cowed into supporting her familial interests. "After what I have done for them. Securing Hermione as a friend. Cedric too! Both of their grandmothers are prominent on the Wizengamot! I am going to be the new BYR as soon as Madam Bones wins this sham of an election. Professor Flitwick says I show the most promise he has seen in years for duelling. Wizards will go to the moon thanks to my help!" Daphne struggled to breathe in her tight dress. "I am better than this. I am better than a prized cow!"
"You do realize what it would mean to tell them no. They would stop speaking to you. This will be the first block in a miserable road. One day they will forbid any contact." Matilda's eyes glimmered, "Are you quite certain you are prepared for such an inevitability."
Daphne thought hard. Remembering, in that moment, Dumbledore's words. Her grandfather, her parents, were relics of a time quickly dying. It was up to her to step into the future whether they liked it or not. "Its time for the Greengrasses to learn what it means to pick a fight with a feminist," She decided, "Nobody on this earth will tell me who I will marry. Especially not when I have given this family so much. Tinsy."
The House Elf who had practically raised her appeared with a crack. "I need your help."
OOOO
Hermione stood in the powder room. Wondering how such a grandiose hall could be called a 'room.' She brushed her fingers through her hair. Dancing the wild Wizarding Waltzes with Cedric and Harry had eaten away at her Sleakeazy. Riotous curls were beginning to form in place of the formerly silky locks. Sighing, the witch remembered how she had gone to the Diggory's garden party last summer. How Cedric had told her he liked her hair bushy in the rose garden. "Stare any harder and you might crack the mirror, love." An old woman stood next to her at the sink. "Don't give me that look. You have nothing to worry about. Pretty as a button, and the Kingmaker to boot. No wonder you have Vulpinia Diggory's grandson eating sugar cubes from your hands." With that the old witch left the powder room.
She stared at the door long after the kindly crone left. Considering those words carefully. Hermione hated being called the Kingmaker. The Prophet had quickly latched onto the title like a leech after she destroyed Madam Travers' political career. Democracy died in the presence of dictators. Hermione knew this well enough after her childhood in the muggle world, watching the world news. Even though the Wizarding government was broken it was still wrong for her to manipulate it in her own image. More than anything else the muggleborn hated being anything remotely close to a tyrant. She feared above all else just how much she had enjoyed destroying that Purist bitch.
Suddenly Hermione Granger, for the third time in her life, desperately wanted to be a normal teenager. The first time had been when she longed for friends after a rough start at Hogwarts. The second after Ron's death. Now, standing stock still, the witch considered what Lavender Brown, the foolish bint, might do in her place. Snapping free of her trance Hermione decided quickly that doing something, anything was better than doing nothing. Marching from the bathroom, stepping back into the middle of mucky elites, she located her prey easily enough. Pausing only once to down a champagne flute on a passing House Elf's platter. "Hermione!" Cedric smiled, still in the seat where she had left him.
"Cedric Diggory!" She hardly meant to sound like such a stern mother hen, yet the teenager acknowledged that she secretly enjoyed bossing people around. "This might be absolutely insane of me, totally out of line," Her words were running as fast as a car's engine. "I am absolutely, utterly fond of you. I-I wear your Quidditch jersey to sleep almost every other night. I love it when you pull me out of the library to while away an afternoon at the edge of the Black Lake. Every time you beat me to answering a question in Potions or Transfiguration I feel like beating your insufferable smirk to death! Whenever I watch you playing Quidditch I worry that you will plummet to your death all for the sake of some stupid sport." Her breaths were ragged. No one seemed to have noticed their heated interactions yet. "I want to kiss you almost as much as I want to learn, and I don't ever care about anything other than reading books."
He glanced around quickly before standing up to both feet. So tall, she remembered dreamily, and so beautiful with his long eyelashes and grey eyes. "I've known I… Liked you since I saw you wearing my Hufflepuff jersey last year. In truth, it probably started when I caught you in that rose garden, and we went flying together. I am intoxicated by your brilliance, and I have no desire to ever tame it. Until last year no one else could compete with me in any of my classes, but then a bossy, annoying little know-it-all decided to show up." Here he grinned and moved to hold her wand hand in his own. "I am fond of the way you stick quills in your gorgeous hair when we study together. Your compassion for others, for House Elves fills my heart with hope. We are still so young, yet I honestly can't imagine a boring world where we had never met. So, yes, Granger. I would like very much if we could kiss each other."
They both were breathing deeply in surprise at the revelation of their shared feelings. Hermione felt frozen tightly in place. Then she snapped herself firmly out of it. "This is utterly ridiculous. Emmeline Pankhurst didn't fight so furiously so that I could fret over something so insipid as a kiss!" With that Hermione reached up to grip the dark, silky tangles of hair on Cedric's head. Pressing her lips firmly against his own. They both smiled. Perhaps it was not a blisteringly hot French kiss, but it was chaste, simplistic, and most importantly, it spoke to their devoted friendship. Neither of them at all interested in dominating the other. At least for any foreseeable point in the future. "Well…" Hermione gasped as she slipped down from her tiptoes.
"Yeah," Cedric smirked cheekily, arms still circled around her waist. Neither of them cared to even glance at the audience that had formed around their romantic display.
"I am tired of this party. It got dreary as soon as Daphne disappeared," Hermione admitted, "Why don't I take you to see muggle London?"
"Yes." Cedric nodded easily as they scurried away for the Floo place. Incredibly, undeniably happy for the first time since he had returned to Britain.
OOOO
Harry stood off to the side of the hall, alone. He hardly knew how to feel about anything. Hermione and Cedric had scurried off after kissing in front of a dozen newspaper cameramen. However, the Boy-Who-Lived refused to feel bitter about being left behind. His friend had been through a lot the past two years. Frankly he preferred feeling uncomfortable at a party so long as it meant she was finally letting herself act her age. "You have changed, Harry," Came a suave voice below his shoulder. The wizard peeked down to find Ginny Weasley staring up at him. Garbed in robes of a deep, navy blue she stood confidently before him. No longer the scared little First Year he had found in the Chamber of Secrets last year. Nor was she the uncertain creature that he and Hermione had encountered at Muriel Prewett's home.
"I spent lots of time in Africa this summer. So I got some sun," He smiled earnestly, even though it was incredibly bittersweet interacting with Ron's relatives. "Then Hermione got me an order delivery for Nourishment Potions. So I guess that is why I have gotten so tall."
"Really?" Her face had visibly fallen when he mentioned his best friend. Instantly it perked back up into a perfect smile when it was her turn to respond. "My Aunt Muriel really sunk her claws deep into me. Insisted it was time I, and my brothers too, start acting like suitable Purebloods. Mum has… Changed since Ron died. She is different, and she always sides with Aunt Muriel."
"How is your dad?" Harry wondered, his heart wrenching.
"Busy with work. He applied for a new job in the Foreign Affairs Department at the Ministry. I haven't seen him much this summer." Her voice was somber. The crowd started to condense around something across the room. "Time for Greengrass' Pledge of Faith."
"Her what?" Harry asked as she guided him over so that they could see a large podium which had been erected in a corner of the ballroom. Candles burned everywhere. Feathers, flowers, bowls of liquid, and other such oddities filled the space.
"It is part of the old faith. Usually you don't see this sort of thing with the circles Dumbledore runs in, old traditions. During the Societal Debut girls select a particular deity to worship so that they may be aided in a particular ambition, or rewarded with prosperity." She paused, "Witches usually have to go with goddesses of fertility, or marriage. Sometimes the more ambitious ones pick Hecate. Though they never really deviate from there. To do so brings a lot of judgement from other families."
"Which d'you think Daphne will pick, Gin?" He accidentally used Ron's pet nickname for her.
"Probably Danu. The Celtic goddess of fertility. After all, all her sort are good for is birthing Death Eater babies." Her eyes suddenly hardened, "I go by Ginevra now." Slipping away she left Harry alone again. Trapped amidst a gaggle of excited old witches.
Harry did not really notice considering that Daphne suddenly appeared from amidst the crowd. A House Elf at her side, carrying a large bag. Suddenly, at the snap of a finger, the Elf caused all of the ornaments on the podium to vanish, then with another motion its bag was visibly emptied. As all of the open spaces were replaced with new objects. Behind Daphne appeared a haughty, miserable looking woman with a pinched face. "I know," An old woman whispered next to him, "How did such a beautiful, talented, vivacious girl as that come from Moira Rosier?" Harry himself pondered at how different the mother and daughter were before gasping in surprise. The angry-looking woman unlaced her daughter's gown. Causing the fabric to crumple down like a silky river.
Tossing the crown of black dahlias from her head to the floor Daphne stepped forth towards the plinth. Only clad in a silky, black nightgown which swished about around her knees. Golden hair shaking as she stepped gingerly atop the podium between two bowls. "I had planned to devote myself to Danu as any good Pureblood girl ought to." Her voice was ringing out over the large mass of guests. "But I suppose you could say I am not a good Pureblood girl. Never have been. I am ambitious, so ambitious that I am set to be the youngest BYR in decades. So ambitious that sometimes it hurts my stomach. Worse, I have no desire or inclination to apologize."
There were gasps and whispers abound. Harry already couldn't wait to tell Hermione later about how the Slytherin Princess had managed to piss off everyone in attendance of the debut. "That is why I will pledge myself to the Morai." At this the little House Elf apparated to send before the podium. Waving its arms a large spinning wheel of thick, golden thread hovered upwards. Unwinding slowly creeping outwards tentatively as Daphne spread her arms out. He watched with nervous breaths as she began to speak in another language. Not Latin.
"Greek?" Hissed an old man, "She not only picks something so vulgar for her patron, but she dares to praise them in Greek? How can she insinuate there is something wrong with the Celtic blood of our ancestors? Her ancestors?"
Daphne's voice only grew louder over the biting din of unhappy, mutinous voices. The golden thread shining vibrantly as it continued to glimmer around her. As she stood there before them, arms bound by a serpentine pattern which wound upwards to the tips of her fingers. The spool hovered upwards over her raised arms. With a swish of the House Elf's hands a pair of scissors flew upwards. Cutting the string from the spool, prompting the glowing chord of material to vanish into a fine, golden hued mist. With that, the young woman slipped over to her dress, not bothering to lace up the back. As the whispers followed she fled into the entry hall with the fireplace.
Presumably Flooing somewhere very far from her angry-looking mother's grasp.
OOOO
"Amelia Bones is certain to win," Moody mused gruffly, "Thanks to that Granger girl's interference. Tyche Travers is being investigated as we speak."
"I never anticipated Miss Granger would tie up that particular, disorderly element so neatly." Dumbledore responded, "She is truly a force to be reckoned with. The Purebloods have been effectively neutered, for now at least."
"Yes. The arrogant know-it-all has the power to see into all of our past mistakes. Who knew she was so powerful." Snape sneered from the seat next to Moody's across the desk.
"Miss Granger is invaluable. The ability to peer into the past, and not just the future, is a rare gift. Though she is not arrogant, Severus. Merely clever enough to know that it was best, despite her compassionate heart, to eliminate Madam Travers." Dumbledore steepled his fingers under his chin. "What of your tracking in Albania, Remus?"
The shabby, tired-looking man stood by a bookshelf. "Voldemort was certainly in the Dark Forest. The residents wouldn't speak to any of the concealed operatives who visited. According to several werewolves he fled towards Bulgaria."
"Amelia Bones has shared with the highest ranking Aurors that Voldemort's continued existence is undeniable. There have been reports of an exodus. Purists and former Death Eaters vanishing into thin air. Likely seeking him out. The CWO's detected his magical signature at the scene of a grisly ritual." Moody disclosed.
"Troubling. Though news concerning Voldemort always is." Dumbledore nodded, a grave dullness tinging his blue eyes. "Dearest Emmeline," He nodded to the clever witch, one of his most favoured, former pupils, "Did you manage to discern anything about Miss Lovegood?"
She stood with crossed arms before the fireplace. "They claim the girl has been Unbound. Old Magic." There was somewhat of a gasp at the revelation, at least amongst those in the office old enough to remember such rituals from the days before they had totally died out in Britain. Moody and Dumbledore simply peered at her with grim expressions. "Your contact, Professor, Hildr Salverson… She told me she was going to train with the girl before summer ends. That Miss Lovegood will soon be one of the last Prophets in Europe. They say when she was 'unbound' there was an explosion of light. Muggles detected it, the Finnish Ministry still has not secured the scene."
"A glimmering star…" Moody growled lowly.
"Deathly days. Ash becomes air as it rides the blazing flames. Earthly mass torn asunder. War grows sweeter than water. The Filthy… The Traitor… The Dragon… The Loyalist… The Tamer. Wrought with sorrow, and forced to grow. Like glimmering stars of a day lost long ago. To the west the horns of deceit tangle in repeat… To the east threats return… To the south the Lover prowls with jaws wide ajar. Oceans of blood, temples of devilish fantasies come new, the phantom hungers for those chosen few." Dumbledore finished the rest of it. "I never could have imagined I would have to live through this misery again. That I would have to witness another of Tycho Dodonus' predictions come to life. The last one remaining in his damnable book."
"Europe will bleed like never before if what you are saying is true, Alb-!" Professor McGonagall had turned white as a sheet.
"No, Minerva." He corrected gravely, "The whole world will bleed, burn, and rip itself to shreds."
"Then what must we do?" Remus Lupin interjected swiftly. "Certainly you are not insinuating that a girl, this Miss Lovegood, could have anything to do with such an impactful prophecy?
"Not just Miss Lovegood. Hermione Granger, Cedric Diggory, Daphne Greengrass, and Harry Potter are all involved as well. I am certain of it." He responded morosely.
"Harry?" Remus suddenly grew visibly worried. "He is too young. They are all too young for this… World War."
"War often is hardest on the young. All of the children in Wizarding Britain may very well have to pay for the sins, evils committed by their ancestors." Dumbledore took off his spectacles. "I will continue to ponder this matter further. In the meantime, you must recruit from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Alastor. The Order's numbers are dire. We absolutely must be at the forefront of the hunt for Voldemort." He glanced at Snape. "Severus. If you could ward the homes of the children, if they do not already live with such protections. The five I named, preferably without worrying their parents, and excepting the Greengrasses. I must speak with them myself." He stood to both of his feet. "Remus, please take over Emmeline's post. Miss Lovegood needs to be watched while she is abroad. There are too many moving parts outside of Britain to be confident in her safety."
OOOO
People keep getting angry about the whole 'Hermione isn't a murderer' thing. Duh. Still, she was a kid who basically watched two people die during the middle of battles she was engaged in. I think it was a bit normal for her to have internalized some of that stuff, even if it wasn't truly her fault.
On the matter of Cedric and Hermione, it literally just happened. I basically discovered I have no control of the pace I wanted them to follow. The two are meant to be, and Daphne, despite being a fictional character, proved to be an immensely persuasive matchmaker. Much more effective than I anticipated her to be. I could go back and delete her interference, but hey, everything happens for a reason. Why not just embrace the chaos that is going to headline this fic soon enough and not question it.
To all of the people who were worried about the whole AO3 thing, sorry for causing so much alarm. I tried to transfer this fic there, because it is unique as fuck and deserves all the attention in the world, but things messed up. At some point I will have to go in and resolve the whole coding issue that popped up. Sigh.
Anyways, I enjoy the beautiful reviews my darlings, and I hope y'all continue to enjoy my fic. This is my only creative outlet away from college and research papers. (So please keep up with the steady stream of feedback!)