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...

35. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five: Promising Young Witch

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

OOOO

Summary: Daphne is the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot. Cordelia has been working with a shady organisation that wants control and influence over Hermione. She also executed Cathlain Desmond back in, like, chapter nine. Magdalena and Dobby have a tense working relationship. Harry is growing into a healthy, less-troubled young man thanks to his supportive new family. The Society of Scum has been working hard against the Knights of Walpurgis 2.0. Luna has been distracted by the Dementors and their dark secrets. Hermione has been rewarded with a Mastery of Alchemy after her trip to America with Nicolas Flamel. Grindelwald is a magic addicted, schizophrenic psychopath. He now has a wand and is enjoying his time back from the world's second longest retirement. Cernunnos might be trapped in the Cairn, but Ginny is determined to change that.

OOOO

Christmas and the rest of the holiday break were a glorious affair. Hermione returned to the townhouse, and much to her delight Cordelia had visited. All the transitory, recently rescued House Elves living in the expansive basements were given gifts of clothing. Given that Dobby was busy working on the details of the settlement at the Fortress of the Crow, Hermione took the little ones on a visit to Diagon Alley by floo. Until the Elvish society was firmly established in a location other than a Wizarding underground things were scattered. Childcare was difficult to organise and schooling could not truly be ironed out. So many details required a democratic process, yet that very process would take ages to become viable. No census was performed beyond tax purposes for House Elves. Compared to the approximately two-hundred-thousand wizards in the UK, she suspected there were around ten-thousand House Elves total.

Only three-thousand Elves had made their way to the EAO. Fewer still were part-Elves, who could blend in with society and cleverly refused to bring a mountain of steaming discrimination onto themselves. Of course, part-Elves were often sympathetic and provided a network of safehouses that grew with every passing month. Wizard volunteers, led by Lead Wizarding Ally Johanna Smith, now numbered around five-hundred. Hermione knew fully well that there were things she could do to improve the circumstances of free Elves, but they would be difficult. Expanding the cause to represent all marginalised Beings would be a good start, though not effective for public perception. Whatever enchantment(s) bound Elves in servitude could be forcibly altered or eliminated, as had been the case in the United States after the Civil War. She was nowhere near powerful or knowledgeable enough yet to do that on her own. There was so much hush-hush over 'You-Know-Who's' Taboo and the Trace that she had nothing to reference either.

So for now she comforted herself with giving the normal daycare supervisors holiday breaks. Today a gaggle of ten Elvish children followed her through the bustling alley. Public foot traffic had apparently died down some since the attacks in Hogsmeade, though after surviving said attacks Hermione was hardly worried. Most of Voldemort's powerful supporters were either hidden away in Eastern Europe, locked away at Azkaban, or keeping their heads down in plain sight. She grew stronger with each passing day and did not want to waste her life worrying about the dregs of the barrel. Spoiling the children with her ludicrously large net worth in the stores made her spirits lift as well. Mitzy, one of her favourites, was an odd little child who was a delight to talk to.

They returned later that afternoon with bags of goodies for the rest of the Elves. She had secretly stopped in the Quidditch Supply Store and ordered a fleet of Nimbus 2001's for the children as well. Something fun they could occupy themselves with after growing up in the worst conditions imaginable. "Hermione!" Her mother beamed as she slipped into the dining room, somewhat exhausted. "Professor Bagshot decided to visit for the holidays after all!" Indeed, the ancient witch sat at their table drinking tea alongside Cordelia.

"Hello, Miss Granger," The crone beamed wisely at her, "Or perhaps I should call you 'Mistress Granger' now…"

Hermione blushed, "It is just an honorary designation of Mastery, Professor. I'm not letting it get to my head." She slipped into the seat across from Professor Bagshot and her grandmother. "I thought you were going to spend the break in Godric's Hollow?"

"My weary bones only have so much time left," The woman smiled tiredly, "Elves: A History is proving to be one of the most important undertakings of my career. I decided to spend the day interviewing members of the EAO. They had much and more to share, dear girl."

"Thank you for assisting Hermione." Cordelia nodded stiffly as ever, "Hermione bites off far more than she can chew sometimes." Hermione simply rolled her eyes. "The Greengrasses, Diggorys, Lovegoods, and Mr. Potter have all been invited here for New Years. Are you certain you cannot spend the passing of the year with us, Professor Bagshot?"

"Thank you for the invitation, Madam Granger," She smiled politely, "Though I must admit I am somewhat behind on grading. Professor Binns, may he rest in peace, left quite a mess of the curriculum. I only have so much time to impress upon my Seventh Years that Goblins are not, in fact, savage terrorists who wish to murder all wizards in the crib. At least not all of them…" Still, the woman did at least stay for dinner. Given the number of Elves living at Pyrites' Townhouse the meal was more of a buffet. Truthfully, Hermione had not felt quite so happy in a very long time, and somewhat dreaded the thought of returning to Hogwarts.

OOOO

Daphne sighed heavily when she knocked over the inkwell. It was late, the stack of papers for the Wizengamot had not gotten any smaller, and she could only thank her stars that the winter break assignments were finished. Quick as could be the witch removed her wand and scourgified the fuck out of the ancient carpet. Sometimes it paid to be a privileged Pureblood cunt, though was it really worth all the guilt? Tiredly, she rattled around the space for a replacement only to realise there weren't any. Flipping her hair back she stepped into the luxurious hallway, and treaded across the way to her grandfather's own office.

It was much larger, much more opulent, and far more rigidly uncomfortable than her's. He would likely pitch a fit if he knew she was in there without permission, but she knew that the trip upstairs to her school trunk would result in nothing productive. All of the drawers were locked, unsurprisingly. Grandfather Greengrass was a paranoid old fuck. She was about to call it quits for the night when a peculiar feeling wiggled in the back of her head. An instinct. Something that made the most instinctive, reptilian reaches of her mind snarl. Looking back, golden hair tumbling down her back, Daphne closed the door again.

Her talent and repertoire in Charms had grown quite considerably. Not only from being best friends with Hermione, but from the private studies with Flitwick. Grandfather had been disgusted to learn she spent so much time with a person of part-Goblin descent. Perhaps he had been right to worry. The wards all over the office were swiftly dismantled, even the tricky Alarm Charm he had set up like a deadly snare. Artefacts, galleons, and mementos were all brushed aside as Daphne began to read through all of the papers her grandfather didn't want anyone else to see.

Her blood boiled. Her brain could not process this information. As a result, she sat there longer than she should have.

"Well," Came that arctic, dangerous tone she knew so well. "I see the kneazle is out of the bag." He stood over her, threatening and skeletal all in one go. She rose to her feet, glad that puberty had gifted her with height of her own. "If you were still a little girl we both know what the consequences would have been for this." Grandfather was fond of old school punishments. Hurting the nanny/House Elf. Hanging children upside down in the dungeons. Pulling teeth, which also served as a method of preparing Purebloods against interrogation tactics, then regrowing said teeth. Grisly stuff really, come to think of it.

"I am a witch through and through. A damn good one at that. I haven't been a little girl for a long time." Daphne sneered, any sweet memories she held of the repulsive man were gone. He had his name all over those documents. Her mother and father were involved in it too. "I could forgive you all for being bigots. I could forgive you for supporting Voldemort the first time, in his prime. But this? THIS!" Her chest could not hold in any air. Pureblooded ladies were never supposed to raise their voices, to be emotional.

"You know as well as I that bets must be hedged, child," He smiled in a cold, bloodless way. All predatorial teeth with eyes as icy blue as her own.

"Call me a child ever again," Daphne hissed, sitting down regally in his chair, "And you will live to regret it." He laughed mockingly at that.

"I will live, and that is all that matters. So you, my sweet child, ungrateful as you may be. Only a term of lessons with that pitiful half-Goblin and you think yourself equipped to challenge me?" His stare was uncomfortably penetrating, "If he returns you will be thanking me. Best friend to that mudblood Granger and close in near equal turn with Potter, from what I hear. You could hand them over on a silver platter to him in chains. If it were ever necessary. I have given you the greatest gift imaginable, a way to succeed no matter how the weather vane spins in these turbulent times."

"By lending all of your backing to Voldemort? Giving him and his lunatic followers exactly what they need to advance beyond Albania." Her scoff was dismissive as though he were an oversized fly.

"Those muggles have addled your brain. Though I am certain you are as aware as I am of how things work. We all endured this phase, even I had a bleeding little heart around your age too. Unfortunately, it does not change how this world works. It is relentlessly cruel and we must be even more so to survive in all this luxury." He leaned against the desk now. Daphne wondered if she could take her grandfather in a fight. She was under no delusions that he was powerful and far more learned than a schoogirl of her age. Even the Death Eaters at Hogsmeade had been too much for her. For a moment the witch shivered, remembering her still-aching scars. "Daphne, you are a promising young witch. Perhaps I have not shown your sudden accumulation of power the appropriate response."

Her heart quickened. Would he beat her down into a pulp? Violently reaffirming his grip and power over the family? There had been rumours about his sister, Hyacinth Greengrass. She too had stood up to him one too many times. They found her dead at eighteen in a Ministry lift just days before her strategic political marriage to Abraxas Malfoy. Blamed on a jilted, former beau, but she knew better. Would Daphne even stand a chance at such a young age? Grip on the wand tightening she found herself shocked when he spoke again. "Astoria is too frail and sickly to lead our house. Your brother is too unambitious by far. You, however, are something far more special than I imagined you to be."

"And?" She spat venomously.

"I want you to take charge one day, when I am gone. Not your mother, father, or brother. None of them are positioned quite as you are. Not a single one of them has the same ability to see the good in the world and profit from cruelty the way I have been able to. Except for you."

For once Daphne had absolutely no idea what to say.

OOOO

"This settlement is coming along nicely. How are preparations for your end of the conference, Mr. Proudfree?" Madam Goregalon remarked to Dobby. High above towered the Fortress of the Crow. Far below the icy Irish waves crashed against the stony cliffs. Tucked neatly inside of the new, Goblin grade wards the little dwelling swelled with increased foot traffic every day. Houses perfectly sized for Elves and Goblins were being built with gusto. What had once consisted of the remnants of a ramshackle, war torn, Irish wizarding village was now filling nicely with row after row of glimmering homes. The residents had been allotted land galore and now returned home every night after long days spent in Diagon Alley, or other economic hotbeds.

The beginnings of a hospital that may one day grow to rival even St. Mungos had started to shoot upwards in the western direction. Off to the east a new banking institution was being excavated by Madam Goregalon's Goblin supporters. Already vaults had been established and coffers were bursting with the influx of wealth. Far south of the Fortress of the Crow a commercial center was growing naturally without much need for oversight. Many Elves and Goblins had taken to calling it Liberty Square. Though nowhere near to completion, Dobby had even begun to assign Elves to undertake construction of a port below the cliffs. Elves that had formerly worked in lift operation were presently focused on creating a reliable system of elevators.

"The Yumboes have agreed to participate, Madam," Dobby nodded to himself, quite proudly indeed. "I am corresponding with the Freed Elves of America, and as soon as they are in agreement, the EAO will begin corresponding officially with the continent Ministries. They are angry that we have been smuggling Elfs into Ireland under their noses." He paused, looking at the woman closely. Her beak was shiny and healthy while her shroud had been abandoned in favour of prominent, Goblin forged adornments. "How goes the bank and the Goblin side of the conference?"

"Gringotts has been attempting to put a stop to our efforts at attaining international legitimacy. Though I secured the private support of Amelia Bones just the other day." Her disappointment was always laced into a haughty web of pride and determination. Dobby liked that about her. The Goblins had never been subjugated by wizards, entirely successfully, and the regality of her nature made better sense to him than it had before. He wished all Elves could one day learn to advocate for themselves as mightily as Madam Goregalon did for her own people.

She made him feel insecure in ways he had not, perhaps ever, contemplated before.

"Madam Goregalon," He stuttered out suddenly, "Dobb-I wished to ask for your help with something else. A new plan." The President of Goregalon Bank blinked, though did not reveal much emotion otherwise in response. The Elf continued carefully. What he was about to tell her would potentially turn the EAO into a seemingly treasonous institution, though he did not wish to depend on the goodwill of wizards forever. Such a position would only inhibit progress for British, Scottish, and Irish Elves, along with the assortment of foreign Elves they were helping. "Hermione Granger is unlike her kind. Though she is a girl still, with much promise and talent. I wish for her to enjoy her life, and not to trouble her with things that Elves must learn to do for themselves."

"Where does my assistance come into this, Mr. Proudfree?" The question was worded as the start of a negotiation. They had stopped in a shadowy corner beneath the fortress, and Dobby paused to erect Silencing Wards around them.

"I want to free all Elves. At once. No more incremental progress. No more concessions, bribes, or begging wizards to do the right thing." He paused, "I know wizards. Some are good, like Hermione Granger, others are worse than bad, like the Malfoys. We Elves have power, but our knowledge has been lost. Perhaps with the support of the American Elves and Yumboes we bridge that gap, but I don't trust them yet. Even your own kind have abused you and their other womenfolk for centuries."

"The enchantments behind the forced servitude of Elves are more than powerful. They are ancient." Still, something in Madam Goregalon's tone seemed somewhat impressed by his ambition. "From when wizards had true power, and those like Hermione Granger or Dumbledore were more than just rare occurrences. The backlash from breaking such precedent could have severe consequences."

Dobby's ears deflated. "So even your Goblins could not help us then."

"Oh no, you misunderstand me, Mr. Proudfree," Her voice was sharp and dangerous, filled with double-edged humour. "We can help you; For the right price."

He felt defiant then, as he stared into her beautiful, cunning, yellow eyes. "Dobby will pay any price." They stared at one another for a long moment, electricity filled the air as untrained, Elvish magic battled against her own Goblin variety.

"My price would not be extravagant. I have much respect and more for you, Mr. Proudfree." She paused, carefully. "There is more you could be, ought to be doing, to establish independence from the wixen. If Cordelia Granger were amenable, and I were in your shoes, I would ask her to turn the Fortress of the Crow into a school. One dedicated to the reclamation of Elvish magic." Here she paused, "Then, knowing what we both know of wizarding treachery, I would suggest building a secret army. Deep below our feet. Joint operations between Elves and Goblins. One that not even the Grangers would be made aware of." They both regarded one another carefully. "That would be part of my price. You would need to keep a secret from Hermione Granger. One that could possibly erode her good name should it ever see the light of day."

"Hermione Granger would not mind," Dobby responded firmly, "She is young and has not seen the same horrors you and I have. Though I will not tell her. Especially as it would be another burden on her shoulders when she should be happy and carefree."

"Good." The last bit of their pact remained unspoken, though not for much longer. "I want you Dobby. I have grown more intrigued by you since that first time we met. I would like to know you, in every way I possibly could." She was not embarrassed by what had come from her mouth. Though he blushed violently at the insinuation, looking down at his feet instantly. Dobby had always been too focused on securing his freedom to ever think of love. When the Malfoys ordered him to rut with other Elves it was always another punishment, or burden he had to grit his teeth through. For sixty years he had focused only on surviving.

"Why would you want that?" He choked this bit out, unable to hide the brokenness from her any longer. "Dob-I am a broken Elf. Not fit for a woman like you." She stepped closer and tilted his chin up with a well-manicured, dangerous claw. They stared into one another's eyes for a very long time. Two hurt souls screaming into the wind for safety, security. For the greatest magic that had been denied to them for so long. The dance had ended, and now only the truth lay scattered before them.

"Part of the secret to Goblin forged metal," She breathed down towards his fluttering eyelashes, "Is that we take broken metal, and beat it back into shape over Fiendfyre and Gubraithian Flame. You may be broken, aye, but you are worth the effort. Neither of us are wizards. We can do away with the frivolity of rotten social conventions and get to the good days now. I want you Dobby Proudfree. I want so desperately to be the fire that forges your rebirth. Wed me. Make love to me. Promise to stand by my side until the last breaths have expired from our lungs. In turn I will give you everything you have ever wanted."

"I can't hurt again. I've hurt for too long," Dobby admitted, fingers curling with her own. "Do you promise not to hurt me, Magdalena?"

"Never." She hissed with all the gleaming satisfaction and certainty her kind were so well known for possessing.

OOOO

Harry sat at his desk two days after Christmas. Parchment spread all about, the blinding winter light spilled across him like a halo. Hermione hardly wanted to interrupt his efforts. He had experienced a rapid growth spurt since she forced him to begin taking the Nourishment Potions that summer. Combined with intensive Quidditch practices, Harry had grown into a lanky, muscular, deep-voiced, awkward young man. Slipping into the office she stood behind him and peered over his shoulder. Hand moving out to smooth his wild hair into some semblance of orderliness. "Managing your accounts?" She asked carefully, a proud smile on her face.

"Yes. I will need to visit the wizarding hotel in Hong Kong this summer, I think. The reservation in Africa is actually managing to sustain itself. Rolf has been overseeing everything in my stead. Apparently you can harvest Potion ingredients without butchering magical creatures." His tone was not tired, or overwhelmed, but enthusiastic and light. Hermione hadn't felt such good energy from him since before Ron had died, and this was perhaps even brighter than it had been then. Her parents had gotten him in with a phenomenal therapist, while Cordelia had secured the services of a talented Mind Healer. Away from the Dementors, surrounded by people who genuinely loved him, Harry had probably not been in such good shape since his parents were still alive.

"I've also been working on plans for the Society of Scum with Luna, but that is a surprise for when we arrive at Hogwarts." He gave her a cheeky grin and she swatted him on the shoulder in return. "Have you heard from Cedric?"

"No, but we have both been busy. He's spending the break getting ahead on his studies before we are surrounded by Slytherins and Dementors." Her tone was sombre, perhaps, but she knew it was for the best. "Though I might go to Diggory Manor on New Years, if you want to tag along?"

He blushed slightly, "Luna invited me over to hunt the countryside for Ringtailed Hobbersnorps. Maybe we can Floo together though, since they both live in Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Ooh, Harry," Hermione teased, happy the mention of Dementors hadn't brought down his spirits. "Ringtailed Hobbersnorps?"

"Well," He stuck his nose in the air, "I tried to tell Luna they don't exist, but she reminded me the Killing Curse wasn't ever supposed to fail either." Harry grinned, "Luna has an odd way of making coherent, intelligent arguments when she really cares about something."

"Or maybe, just maybe," Hermione smirked, "The Ringtailed Hobbersnorps are just an excuse…"

"For what?" He asked obliviously.

She left without answering. Her adopted brother would figure it out at some point, thick as he was.

OOOO

Ginny had pretended that she would be staying at Hogwarts with a friend that holiday. There was work to be done, and sitting there sadly on the first Christmas without Ron would hardly fix things. Cernunnos agreed and affirmed that what her parents did not know would hardly kill them. He was powerful and she had no reason to disobey him either. Every obstacle she found in securing vengeance the horned god provided a solution for. Apparently there were to apparate within the wards of Hogwarts. Old, forgotten magic, but no longer. After a month of splinching herself the young witch had finally gotten it all right. With the lack of scrutiny at Hogwarts over break no one noticed her absence during the long days.

Lately Cernunnos had wanted to know what Cordelia Granger was up to. So Ginny obeyed without a second thought. He lingered in her mind as they followed the woman all over Ireland. She took note of the woman's corrupt dealings with Irish politicians interestedly, though Cernunnos hardly cared. The god wanted only one thing. Information on the whereabouts of the Cairn. Ginny Weasley had vowed to obey him and possessed every intention of successfully securing that information. During yet another 'secret' meeting with a group of American wizards, who were very interested in that whore Hermione Granger, a clue finally slipped free.

They mentioned the fallout from the assassination of one Cathalain Desmond. The insinuation, of course while never directly stated, was that Cordelia had eliminated this fellow herself. Apparently the Desmonds had been servants of the Cairn prior to it becoming Unplottable and hidden beneath enchantments. The family played a large role in the storming of the Fortress of the Crow and the subsequent slaughter of nearly every last Morrigan. A shortsighted tactic considering what Ginny now knew. Cernunnos needed Morrigan blood to return to strength. Lot's of it.

Perhaps there was much use behind that quote about enemies of enemies being friends after all.

OOOO

Daphne sat in her usual spot on the Special Council of Foreign Affairs. Listening, almost through a bubble, as experts from the field were brought in one-after-another. Normally she cared about the rising casualty number. Normally she fretted alongside them about the reports that Nurmengard had been pulverised to dust. Normally the witch had the stamina to argue for the soldiers and advise against pissing matches with Albania. Especially when targeted strikes against Voldemort's safe houses were more strategic and less messy. How could she take any notice when the guilt tore at her very soul? Almost from the very start, when she had been attacked at Hogsmeade even, her family had been funding the enemy? Several of the adults on the council took obvious note of her pallid, quiet demeanour that evening. So perhaps that explained the surprise in the chamber when she finally spoke up.

"Any other matters that must be raised before we close this council meeting?" Asked the Council Head, Gilda Fanning.

Daphne stood. Her heart beating in her ears. Blood pounding so mighty and with such high pressure that blackspots danced across her vision. With a flick of her wand the parchments which burned a hole in her pocket were flying into the air. No going back, she straightened her spine as if it were iron. The consequences would be swift, and her life would never be the same again. With rapid ease she duplicated the documents and banished them to every other member of the council. "I have become aware of the fact that my own grandfather, mother, and father have been financially supporting Voldemort for months. Ever since they became aware of the fact that he was still alive and hiding in Albania."

The uproar was unanimous.

Her own uncle-by-marriage, John Blishwick immediately proclaimed his own innocence and was quick to announce his disgust with the development. "My grandfather bribed me when I found out," She continued over the chaos, "Yet here I stand. Doing what is right. There is no place for Voldemort in our society. No hedging bets, cornering all options. This war is imminent, increasingly messy, and will spare no family. I have chosen my side."

There was no coming back from this, Daphne told herself as they sent aurors to apprehend her family. No helping them to flee when she allowed said aurors into the wards of the Greenhouse home. A target was on her back now. "Come for me Voldemort," The witch gritted her teeth violently, "I'll be ready."

OOOO

Author's Note:

So, I have had the worst two years of my life. It is my fault to be honest. I should have known that a 'faggot' like me had no business going into engineering. Sometimes it felt like I was trapped in a remnant societal bubble from 1932. But guess what? I am alive, I only have two classes left, and for the first time in a long time I felt like my soul was light enough to write. I've been busy looking for jobs, (lmk if you know any engineers who are hiring lol) but rest assured, this story hasn't been abandoned. There has been a massive plot twist in the works for a long time that I want to see through.