I'd like to thank fredfred, InquisitorCOC and Brian1972 for beta-reading.
Chapter 3: Rifts
Kent, Longbottom Manor, September 16th, 1998
"Hannah! Susan! Welcome to my home!" Neville smiled widely at the two witches as he bowed. He hadn't seen either of them since they all had taken their N.E.W.T.s.
"Thank you for your hospitality," Susan answered, bowing in return.
"Thank you for your hospitality." Hannah followed her friend's example.
Neville blinked, briefly. It was the correct response, as custom dictated. And yet, it felt a little… standoffish. But then, he hadn't seen them in months, and he was now a member of the Wizengamot - and a rather prominent one, at that.
"Come, let's join the others in the garden." He didn't offer either his arm - he couldn't escort both of them together, and he would have had to offer his arm to Susan since she was a member of an Old Family, if not the heir, and Hannah wasn't. And he'd have preferred to escort Hannah.
"Who did you invite?" Hannah asked as he led them through the hallway to the garden.
"Just a few of our friends from Hogwarts," he answered. "Ernie and Zacharias. Blaise. Daphne and Tracey."
"Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. You're the only Gryffindor," Susan said.
He shrugged. "It happened that way." She would know why none of his Gryffindor year mates had been invited, but she was too well-brought-up to mention it.
"Well, I like it - I haven't seen Ernie or Zacharias in months," Hannah declared with a smile that lit her face up.
Neville felt a little torn at hearing that - he really did want Hannah to enjoy the afternoon in his home. On the other hand, he didn't want her to enjoy herself too much with either boy. He hadn't seen her for months either!
"And three Slytherins?" Susan grinned. "I guess it's true that in the Wizengamot, your house doesn't count any more."
He nodded as he opened the door to the garden for them with a flick of his wand. "Well, it would be hardly conducive to good government if we continued childish feuds in the Wizengamot. The country comes first, after all."
The two witches looked at each other, then giggled.
He frowned. "Is something the matter?"
"No, no - you just sounded like my great-uncle," Susan said.
Hannah nodded. "Exactly like him. Do you speak with him in the Wizengamot very often?"
He didn't want to sound like an old wizard. Not at all. Even though it was nice to see Hannah laugh. He shook his head. "Only occasionally." A greeting in passing, mostly - Eduard Bones wasn't exactly an influential member of the Wizengamot, and apparently, he held a grudge against the families of Death Eaters, no matter how far removed, for the death of his niece.
"Ah!" Hannah nodded, then grinned impishly. "So it must be the office that changed you."
He frowned. "Changed me?" He hadn't changed. He had merely grown up some more.
Hannah was about to answer - she opened her mouth - but Ernie's loud "Susan! Hannah!" interrupted her, followed by Zacharias's enthusiastic - and far too personal - greeting of the two witches. And before Neville realised it, the four former Hufflepuffs were chatting animatedly about others from their house and their lives since Hogwarts. Mostly among themselves.
"It seems you can take the Hufflepuff out of Hogwarts, but you can't take the Hufflepuff out of the witch and wizard."
Neville turned and smiled, if a little weakly, at Daphne. "So it seems."
She smiled at him and hooked her arm in his. "Well, in that case, let me offer you the company of the Slytherins. We wouldn't want you to feel left out, would we?"
Neville let her lead him to the table where Blaise and Tracey were sitting and watching the proceedings with matching smirks. Daphne was correct - he didn't want to feel left out. Even if he did.
But he was the host, and it simply wouldn't do to ruin his guests' moods just because the gathering wasn't proceeding entirely as he had hoped and expected. "I hope the tea is to your taste," he said as he took his seat next to Daphne.
Blaise nodded in that nonchalant manner of his. "Passable, I guess." His grin meant that Neville couldn't take offence and had to assume he was joking - whether or not his guest was actually joking.
"It's good," Tracey said. "Ceylon's Best Fairy Selection, my favourite."
"She's a tea enthusiast," Daphne said. As closely as she was sitting to him - and leaning towards him - he would have heard her clearly even if she had whispered it.
"I'm not some barbarian Butterbeer drinker," Tracey shot back. She was joking - after serving as their escort for a few trips through Diagon Alley, Neville was quite familiar with the antics of the two witches.
"Heathen!" Daphne sniffed, then both witches giggled. In a similar manner, actually, to how Susan and Hannah - who were still chatting with their Hufflepuff friends - had behaved earlier.
Although Daphne and Tracey weren't laughing at him, he noticed.
"So, what news is there from our hero of the Wizengamot?" Blaise was smirking again. "According to the Prophet, you single-handedly taught Granger her place when she called on her rabble to storm the Ministry."
Neville blinked. "Sorry?" Blaise had to be joking. There had been nothing of that sort - he had been watching out for that, actually, after his visit to her rally. He reached over and grabbed the Prophet.
"It's true," Tracey said. "I read the article this morning."
"I haven't had time to read the newspaper today," Neville said as he opened the newspaper. Between studying the latest muggle books from Flourish and Blotts and preparing for receiving his guests, he hadn't found the time.
But Blaise was correct, he realised as he stared at the headline.
Granger Tells Muggleborns To Storm The Ministry. Threatens Violence.
He quickly skimmed the article then shook his head. "That didn't happen. She didn't say that. Nothing even close to that."
"Well, she certainly means it," Blaise said with a shrug that made him look more French than Italian, in Neville's opinion.
"But this is bad." Neville clenched his teeth. "Very bad."
"Why? It's the Prophet," Tracey said. "They're known to exaggerate things a little."
"This is more than a little exaggerated," he told her. "This is accusing her of treason."
"I don't think that the Aurors will arrest her," Daphne said. "Can you see Potter and Weasley arresting her?" She laughed.
"It's not that," Neville said. "If people think they are being lied to on the orders of the Wizengamot, they will stop trusting us."
Everyone knew that the Daily Prophet answered to the Ministry and printed what it wanted to see printed. But if the Wizengamot got the blame for this…
Blaise still didn't understand the issue. "Well, what can Granger do about it? It's not as if the Prophet would print a rebuttal for her."
"No, not the Prophet," Neville said. He looked at Daphne. She understood.
"But there's another newspaper in Britain," she said, wincing.
Devon, Ottery St Catchpole, September 17th, 1998
The Lovegoods' home had been destroyed during the war, but Neville had assumed that they would have rebuilt it since the Battle of Hogwarts. But when he arrived, the ruins looked unchanged - stones and broken beams littered the landscape around the remains of the walls of the ground floor.
Although he couldn't see any trace of furniture as he looked around. Had the Lovegoods moved? But he had called Luna through the Floo Network… Perhaps he should use the Floo Network to travel as well?
"There you are!"
He turned around and blinked. Luna was waving at him from a hole in the ground, holding up a trapdoor with one hand. "Come in!"
He stepped closer and saw that she was standing on stairs leading downwards. It seemed as if she and her father had moved underground. Slightly bemused, he followed her down and soon found himself in a round room full of the kind of knick-knacks he'd expect in Luna's home.
She stood in the centre of the room and spread her arms with a beaming smile. "Welcome to the Eagle's Nest! You're the seventeenth visitor! That's a lucky number!"
"Eagle's Nest?" Didn't eagles roost on mountain tops?
She nodded several times. "Indeed! We wanted our home to match the Weasleys'!"
How would that work?
He might have asked the question aloud since she explained. "The Weasley's home is called The Burrow even though it reaches into the sky instead of into the earth. So Daddy and I did the opposite - we dug down and named it the Eagle's Nest. We were both in Ravenclaw, you know."
"Were?" Now that he thought about it - wasn't she supposed to be at Hogwarts?
"Well, technically, I still am in Ravenclaw, I guess. But since Daddy needs my help to rebuild our home and livelihood, and since Hogwarts was also damaged in the war, Headmistress McGonagall lets me leave the school whenever I want." With a pout, she added: "But we're nearly done - all that's left are the habitats for the animals - and then I guess I'll have to move back into Ravenclaw Tower."
"Ah." That explained it. As much as Luna could explain anything. But he hadn't come to talk about this. He cleared his throat. "I actually wanted to talk to you about The Quibbler." Well, he had wanted to talk to her father, but Luna was the more sensible of the two, according to Harry. He pressed his lips together. He didn't want to think about the last time he had spoken to Harry.
"Oh, I understand!" She whirled round and opened a large chest, then stuck her head and upper body into it. "It's right there… I think… yes… no… almost… Alphonse, don't eat that, it's not good for you...There!"
With a wide smile, she stood and handed him a sheet of parchment. "Just fill out the subscription form, pay one Galleon and you will receive every issue of The Quibbler starting now! It's a steal at those rates!"
Once more, he blinked, taken by surprise. That wasn't what he had meant. Although… having a subscription to The Quibbler would be useful, in case Hermione started doing what he thought she would be doing. "Thank you." He quickly filled out the form and handed it back to her with a Galleon.
"You won't regret it!"
"I know." He hoped. "But I wanted to talk to you about something else."
"Oh? Oh! You've seen a Snorkack on your secret missions for the Wizengamot! I knew it!"
His smile felt more than a little strained. "Unfortunately, no, I haven't seen a Snorkack."
"Ah. But you didn't deny that you are doing secret missions for the Wizengamot!"
"I'm not doing any such missions."
"I know that you have to say that." She was winking at him.
"No, I wanted to talk to you about a recent article in the Daily Prophet."
"But we're The Quibbler. The Daily Prophet is in Diagon Alley. See?" She held up an issue of her magazine. "The Quibbler."
"I know. It's about The Quibbler. And The Prophet," he quickly added before she could misunderstand him again. "I was wondering if you had talked to Hermione lately."
She frowned at him. "A good journalist never reveals her sources! Unless it's an interview."
He couldn't resist. "I know that you have to say that." To his disappointment, she simply nodded at that. "But let's assume you've been made aware that the Prophet has been slightly less than precise in their reporting from the Wizengamot."
"You mean the Prophet's been lying through their teeth."
He sighed. "Yes."
"That's not exactly newsworthy, is it?"
He smiled "I would agree. However, you might also be aware of the current political situation."
"I think everyone is aware of the falling out between you and Hermione." She shook her head. "Friendships breaking is one of the saddest things you can experience."
"Well, it wasn't my fault," he said. "She decided to make a mockery of the Wizengamot."
"I don't think she did that. She's just stating her opinion. As are you."
So Hermione had been talking to Luna. He smiled. "I understand."
"You do?"
He nodded. "Yes." He'd be ready for her move.
"That's good. Because I was afraid that you were still suffering from Nargles. They confuse your mind, you see?" She smiled at him, though she looked more sad than happy.
"Trust me, I see more clearly than ever." He nodded at her before leaving her home.
And ignored what might have been a sob behind him. He knew his duty, and the country came first. Before friends and even before family.
Kent, Greengrass Manor, September 27th, 1998
After half a dozen visits in the last few weeks, Neville knew his way around Greengrass Manor. Mr Greengrass still welcomed him in the entrance hall, as was proper etiquette, but Neville usually made his way to the drawing room or the garden, depending on the weather, by himself. Unless Daphne happened to go in the same direction, which was often the case. Like today.
And he had to admit that it was nice to chat with her - unlike most of his friends and acquaintances, she didn't talk about politics all the time.
"Did you hear? Hannah Abbott and Zacharias Smith are going out with each other!"
Well, sometimes talking about politics was nice as well. "Yes, Ernie told me," he replied.
"Ah!" Daphne nodded. "I heard it from Blaise, who had heard it from his mother, who had heard it from Madam Smith herself. Apparently, she's not sure whether she should approve. I think they make a sweet couple, and it isn't as if she's a half-blood or muggleborn. And since she's not closely related to the main line, there won't be any trouble with her family anyway."
There wouldn't have been any such troubles either if Hannah were dating him. He nodded anyway - such matters had to be kept in mind when courting someone. "How's Astoria doing at Hogwarts?" he asked.
Daphne sighed. "Oh, you know - it's her sixth year. That means she's no longer studying for her O.W.L.s but not yet revising for her N.E.W.T.s. So she's busy doing nothing with her friends."
Neville remembered his own sixth year. Which had been Daphne's as well. It hadn't been as terrible as Harry's, but the threat of Voldemort, whose return had finally been proven, had hung over them the entire year. "Well, good for her," he said. "She'll be fretting about her N.E.W.T.s soon enough."
Daphne nodded. "Oh, she will." They reached the door to the garden. "So, enjoy your politics," she said with a smile. "And if you get too bored or frustrated, come see me - I've got a few new seeds from the New World you might be interested in."
"Ah! I think I'll do so," he said, his mood brightening.
She beamed at him, then squeezed his arm, briefly, before walking away. He watched her go - she moved with the grace of a witch raised in an Old Family - before he entered the garden. And returned to politics.
Madam Smith, Mr Macmillan and Madam Fawley were already present, sipping tea. A few more members of the Wizengamot would be joining them, or so Neville had been told. All in all, about a third of the Wizengamot would be gathering here.
He greeted his peers and took his usual seat, where his favourite tea was already waiting under a charm.
Mr Macmillan took up from where he had apparently been interrupted by Neville's arrival. "It's scandalous! We can't even trust each other. Shacklebolt will betray us if we try to replace the Minister."
Madam Smith scoffed. "Of course he'll oppose that - the Minister's his nephew! Any one of us would do the same in his place. Not that we can replace the Minister without losing half the Ministry."
"And don't get me started on Elphias! He dotes on that witch as if she were his granddaughter!" Mr Macmillan huffed. He didn't have to name names - everyone in the Wizengamot knew who 'that witch' was. "We should vote him out of office; he doesn't have any relatives in high positions!"
"That would be a scandal," Madam Fawley said. "And exactly what Elphias wants. They are waiting for us to turn on each other so we look weak and divided. If we get rid of Shacklebolt and Doge, we'll look like we're trying to get rid of anyone who doesn't agree with us."
"If only we could," Mr Macmillan exclaimed. He leaned forward. "I've made some inquiries. Not all of the Aurors and Hit-Wizards are in Potter's thrall. There are a dozen who will do their duty if they are called upon," he said, nodding several times and glancing round.
"Your son among them, I suppose?"
Neville hid his frown with his cup. Ernie was a good lad, but his spellwork wasn't up to snuff. He had done decently in the DA but hadn't kept up in the subsequent years. If the others were of similar skill, they wouldn't last long against either muggleborns or Harry's Aurors. Probably wouldn't last long against just Harry and Ron.
Not that such a confrontation would be anything but a catastrophe anyway, no matter the outcome. They had just finished a bloody civil war, and Britain wouldn't survive another. He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't advise to pursue that course of action," he said.
Before he could elaborate, Mr Rosier and Mr Selwyn arrived, followed by Mr Greengrass and Madam Avery.
"What course of action?" Mr Selwyn asked once everyone was seated.
"We were exploring the possibility of sending loyal Aurors and Hit-Wizards against certain threats to the country," Madam Smith explained.
Mr Selwyn snorted and shook his head. "My cousin said most of them wouldn't last in a fight against Potter or his friends. And the rest would flee before that." And since his cousin was commanding the Hit-Wizards, he would know.
Neville cleared his throat. "Even if they could hold their own, we cannot afford another war."
"A war?" Madam Avery said. "Surely you exaggerate!"
Madam Fawley snorted. "Have you read the latest issue of The Quibbler?"
"I don't read the writings of a demented madman," Madam Avery replied.
"You should. They denounce the Prophet as the lying voice of the Wizengamot and draw parallels to the unfortunate time when the Prophet was under the control of the traitors." Madam Fawley shook her head. "It's not a big step from that to liken us to the traitors."
"But a war would ruin the entire country!" Mr Macmillan said, aghast.
"Exactly," Neville said. "If the muggleborns think that we're turning into blood purists, they'll start a war."
"But that's madness!"
Neville suppressed a sigh. "I know them, probably better than anyone else here. I've stood with them when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts. They could have fled, but didn't. Even though they were risking their deaths and the destruction of Hogwarts, they choose to fight."
"Because you and Potter and the teachers led them!"
"That was a factor, but many had gathered there to fight without knowing about Harry's plans." Neville shook his head. "If they feel they have nothing to lose, they'll start a war, even if it kills all of us."
"But they have something to lose! Their livelihoods. And, in a war, their lives!" Macmillan was still shaking his head in apparent disbelief. It was clear why he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor. But then, none of the Wizengamot members present, except Neville, had fought in the war.
"That might not be enough to stay their wands," Mr Greengrass said. "We might consider throwing them a bone."
"What? Give in to threats? Never!" Mr Rosier said. "We won't bow to the pressure of the rabble in the street!"
"Don't be a fool, Alois!" Madam Smith snapped. "Have you been in Diagon Alley since your first encounter with the muggleborn protesters? I have! And let me tell you, you can't take a step without seeing a lit wand or three!"
"I heard half the first years at Hogwarts could cast the Wand-Lighting Charm before their first Charms lesson," Madam Fawley said.
"Half the class? That can't be!" Mr Macmillan shook his head. "There can't be that many muggleborns!"
"They weren't muggleborns," Madam Fawley corrected him, "but half-bloods and purebloods."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Mr Rosier asked. "To see them outperforming the muggleborns?"
Madam Smith sighed. "They were taught that spell for a reason, Alois."
Mr Rosier gaped. "But… that makes no sense. They aren't muggleborns!"
Mr Greengrass chuckled. "Neither are the Weasleys, yet they openly support the protests. Their shop even has specials on fireworks that spell out their demands in the sky." He shook his head. "That's why I say we should consider granting them something. Placate them. Long enough that we can rebuild the Ministry and straighten out the problems with loyalty."
Madam Smith nodded. "Maybe follow that witch's proposal about licences? Open a few of those that were held by families without heirs to the public. That's what she asked for."
"It might be enough," Madam Fawley agreed. "At the very least, it'll gain us some time."
Neville didn't think so - he knew Hermione. But the proposal might give her and her supporters enough rope to hang themselves. And so he nodded. "We might also consider sealing up the Dementors."
"But wouldn't that help the traitors in Azkaban?" Mr Rosier asked. "Surely the muggleborns would take offence at that!"
Neville shook his head. "Actually, no. They really loathe the Dementors. Especially those who were imprisoned in Azkaban during the war."
Mr Selwyn frowned. "But we would need even more guards for the prison if we get rid of the Dementors. And we don't have enough guards as it is."
"We could hire muggleborns and send them to Azkaban. As guards I mean," Mr Macmillan said, chuckling at his joke.
Neville didn't laugh. More muggleborns trained to fight wasn't a good idea, in his opinion. There were already too many of them.
London, Ministry of Magic, September 28th, 1998
"...and therefore I propose to open these three licences for the growing and selling of magical fungi to the public."
Neville kept an eye on Hermione as Mr Greengrass spoke. She didn't seem at all surprised. Had she known about it in advance? Had someone told her? Or had she expected it? Mr Greengrass hadn't filed a proposal; there hadn't been enough time for that, so he had added a rider to a filed proposal by Mr Rosier, which meant Hermione couldn't have read about it.
He shook his head. He wouldn't be able to solve this now.
Hermione didn't ask for the floor after Mr Greengrass had finished his speech. That could mean that she supported it, and was waiting for someone to oppose it before voicing her opinion. But she hadn't cared about Wizengamot etiquette before, and Neville doubted that she was starting now.
But there didn't seem to be anyone willing to oppose Mr Greengrass's proposal - or other members were too surprised to say so; they hadn't been able to talk to everyone beforehand. So Neville raised his wand.
Doge nodded at him. "The chair recognises the honourable Mr Longbottom."
He stood and cleared his throat. "While I do not think Shrieking Moss and Weaving Grass require special consideration - anyone with an O.W.L. in Herbology would be able to handle them - I think that the licence to grow Snarewood shouldn't be opened to the public. It's a relative of Devil's Snare, and while not as dangerous or quick, it's not at all harmless."
Hermione didn't speak in opposition to him either. She didn't even vote when the proposal came up.
It was both disappointing and unnerving.
London, Diagon Alley, October 6th, 1998
"Thank you for coming, Mr Longbottom. Usually, this would be handled by a Ministry employee, but…" The Auror - Rosier, a distant relative of the Wizengamot member - trailed off and shrugged. "We're short on experts, and you're known as a prodigy."
Neville nodded. "I'm aware of the current situation in the Ministry." They had Herbology specialists, but none of them had any training for cases like this one.
Neville took care to keep from grimacing as he studied the room behind the shop. "It looks like the Snarewood had a growth spurt - they do that during the full moon." The wooden branches covered an entire wall of the room. And half the floor. And what was left of the shop's owner, Adrien Selwyn.
Neville used his wand to lift a limb branch. "And it reached the pot with the Jumping Grass. Which quickly started to cover the branches." The plant could grow on any tree it touched, like ivy. Just faster. And then it would try to 'jump' to break off a branch and travel to a good rooting spot with it, using it as fertiliser.
But Snarewood's branches wouldn't break - they bent. "He must have heard the banging of the branches and rushed into the room. Got too close to the main trunk, and got ensnared. Then he panicked and tried to cut the branches, instead of waiting them out or apparating. That triggered the acidic sap."
The Auror's face turned green.
"You can imagine the rest," Neville said. "The plant shouldn't have been placed near Jump Grass. And it should have been covered up during the full moon." The fool probably thought he could use the growth spurt.
"Yes, sir."
"I warned them," Neville said - to no one in particular. He had known this would happen, sooner or later. He hadn't expected it to happen in an established pureblood shop whose owner should have known better than to cultivate plants he didn't know enough to handle, but it didn't matter in the end. Someone had died because Neville hadn't pushed enough to stop the proposal.
He clenched his teeth and made his way to the Ministry. He had a proposal to write. And lives to save.
London, Ministry of Magic, October 12th, 1998
"...and the tragedy that occurred in Selwyn's Superb Shrubs illustrates the need to restrict such licences and permits to experts who have the experience and skill to handle such dangerous plants. Unless we revoke the licences currently granted, more people will die. Snarewood is an extremely temperamental plant that few are ready to handle. Therefore I propose to revoke said licences and hope everyone among us will remember that there are good reasons we restricted the handling of magical plants to chosen families in the past. Mindlessly copying muggles will only lead to ruin; Wizarding Britain isn't muggle Britain, and we aren't muggles."
Neville nodded curtly and sat down.
"I'm sorry about this," Mr Greengrass told him. "I didn't expect this would happen. Selwyn was an experienced Herbologist, from what I had heard."
"He was," Neville said. "But he had no experience with Snarewood. And he should have known better than to take in a plant under those circumstances - much less plant it next to others."
This time, Hermione rose. Neville closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
"My esteemed colleague Mr Longbottom is correct inasmuch as this was a tragedy that could have been averted. However, he is incorrect in blaming it on the fact that the licence to grow and sell Snarewood was opened to the public. It's not the fact that anyone could apply for a licence that is to blame for this, but that everyone who applied was granted a licence without anyone bothering to check whether or not they had the necessary qualifications to handle the plant."
She sniffed.
"I am utterly disgusted that, without bothering to properly examine the circumstances that led to this tragedy, my esteemed colleague would nevertheless try to use this tragic event in a blatant attempt to protect discriminatory monopolies. Disgusted, but not surprised. I propose to add a stipulation that only those who have demonstrated the skills needed to handle the plants - by achieving a N.E.W.T. in Herbology - be granted a licence."
Neville shot up from his seat. "Selwyn had a N.E.W.T. in Herbology! It wasn't enough! And further, muggles have monopolies too - especially on dangerous substances!" Like alcohol in some countries.
"Muggles have laws about restrictive trade practices which prevent unscrupulous people from creating and abusing monopolies for profit," she retorted. "And if having a N.E.W.T. in Herbology is not enough to handle all plants safely, then maybe we should examine the subjects taught at Hogwarts. A student who has taken their N.E.W.T.s shouldn't have to rely on family lore to enter a business. It's already bad enough that they usually have to rely on family connections."
Neville stood again, not caring about the example he set. "Families worked hard for decades to develop the skills and lore to handle such things. Depriving them of the fruits of their labour is no better than stealing the gold from their vaults!"
"They can be compensated. Letting individual families hoard crucial knowledge means we allow a few families to hold the country hostage. That is not a wise policy. And should a dark wizard eradicate a family, said crucial knowledge would be entirely lost." Hermione shook her head. "No, to repeal Mr Greengrass's proposal in its entirety would be foolish. I, therefore, propose to amend it."
She sniffed once more in his direction and sat. Neville glared at her. Others spoke - usually briefly and without saying much of substance.
When the votes were tallied, Neville's proposal passed, as expected. But it passed with fewer votes than he had expected. He hoped that the members opposing him - Shacklebolt among them - were merely confused about him wanting to repeal Mr Greengrass's proposal; their good relationship was no secret.
Because if those votes were instead meant to support Hermione, then things were worse than he had expected.
As Neville left the Chamber - after accepting Mr Greengrass's invitation to dinner at the manor - he noticed Hermione sitting on a bench near the lift. She was smirking, or so it seemed, as the other members gave her a wide berth on their way out.
Was she waiting for someone? Perhaps some of her supporters in the Ministry? Maybe even someone Neville didn't yet know? He narrowed his eyes, then walked over to her.
"Hermione." He nodded curtly at her. It wasn't the proper greeting, but she could hardly be called a proper member of the Wizengamot, given the way she scorned all their traditions and customs. And, since he was a fellow Gryffindor in her year, it wasn't impolite either. Not much, at least. It wasn't as if they were close friends any more - you couldn't be friends with someone who tried to destroy your family's legacy and future.
"Neville." She barely moved her head and didn't stand up.
He waited a moment, but she didn't say anything else. So be it. He frowned. "I told you opening the licences would lead to accidents."
She cocked her head. "I didn't support Greengrass's proposal, as you might recall."
"You wanted a blanket removal of the limits to licences!" he retorted. "If you had had your way, many more people would have been hurt or died!" He wasn't going to let her weasel out of this.
"What I asked for was to break up the monopolies. Remove the strangleholds of individual families on the economy. I didn't propose to let anyone, no questions asked, acquire licences to handle dangerous plants and animals," she shot back, narrowing her eyes.
"You didn't specify that in your proposal. You didn't cover that at all." He glared at her.
"I didn't bother since the proposal would never have passed anyway." She scoffed. "As was shown by your subsequent distribution of other licences. But in a working parliament, there would have been a real debate and follow-up changes."
"A real parliament would tolerate proposals which the author knows won't be anything but wasted time?" He shook his head. "I don't think so."
"My proposal wouldn't have been wasted in a real parliament!"
"This is the Wizengamot, not a muggle parliament. We have different rules and standards. As long as you won't accept that, you'll continue to waste your and our time." He took a breath, then continued, cutting off whatever she was about to say. "But I've read up on muggle parliaments. They have rules as well. And if you break them, you suffer the consequences. Same as here."
"Hardly the same," she snarled. "But you wouldn't know that, having read a few muggle newspapers."
"I've read books!" he snapped.
"The wrong kind, then - or you wouldn't try to exploit this tragedy to support your continuing attempts to oppress muggleborns - and half-bloods and purebloods." She sniffed. "How noble!"
He clenched his teeth and swallowed his first thought. He wouldn't lose his temper. "As if you're not doing the same. You didn't vote for the proposal because it came from Mr Greengrass. So you could blame him for any trouble that resulted from it."
"I didn't vote for it since it was a transparent ploy to throw me a bone so I'd roll over and play nice," she spat. "Do you think I am stupid? Why yes, you do. Unless a witch or wizard was raised in an Old Family, you think they are too stupid to know anything about politics."
"Well, you're not doing much to dissuade anyone from that opinion. But I don't think you are stupid - just too arrogant and self-righteous to actually achieve anything at all." He shook his head. "Which, in a way, is stupid, now that I think of it."
She chuckled, but it sounded forced to him. "That's rich coming from a wizard who doesn't even notice how he is alienating every friend he had in his attempts to suck up to his fellow Wizengamot members. Or their daughters."
"Personal attacks? Don't even muggles frown on those?" He sneered at her. "In any case, this tragedy perfectly illustrates that without the proper education, you shouldn't be trusted with potentially dangerous powers."
"And here comes the propaganda!" She rose as the lift opened and started walking towards it. He spotted Harry and Ron inside the cabin. "The fact that so many traitors were found in your Wizengamot perfectly illustrates that you can't be trusted with any power," she tossed over her shoulder before joining her friends in the lift.
Her friends. Not his. Not any more. Not if they supported her.
