Empire
.:OOO:.
Author's Notes: Hello my lovelies! I'm posting a day earlier than usual this week! A friend came to visit me for a weekend, so I'm sure I won't have time to update at all. So here it is! I'm so excited for what's in store in the next chapters! I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime!
.:OOO:.
BOOK ONE
.:OOO:.
Chapter Three
Knitting, Hermione concluded one day, was a loathsome activity – the most bothersome, irritating activity there ever was. She was terrible at it and she didn't understand why she wasn't getting any better. She was doing exactly what her mum said she should! Into the stitch, loop and pull, stitch, loop, pull—
"Urrgh!" Hermione groaned in frustration and glared at her messy handiwork with distaste. She slumped against the back of the sofa. "I give up!" she declared.
Elizabeth looked over at her from where she sat on her armchair without pausing from her own knitting project and tutted. "Oh come now, darling, don't give up. You'll get the hang of it. It's all about practice."
"I've been practicing for the last week, mum; I'm not getting any better." Hermione grumbled, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. "Why do we even need to do this anyway? I'm sure Mark and the Gibson boys will receive plenty of send offs from the others." As if to punctuate her point, she tossed away her yarn and needles onto the coffee table with a sniff.
"Well, they'll be gone from Dweller Haven for a long time," Elizabeth responded, eyes now trained on the dark green sock she was weaving with her giant needles. "It's the least we can do for them."
Hermione placed her elbow on the arm of the sofa and put her cheek on her hand. She supposed Mark Wilton and Nick and Otto Gibson would need some warm clothes to take with them when they left the settlement. It was starting to get colder now, after all. She couldn't imagine it being at all comfotable, joining a war. "Everyone at school thinks they're very brave for enlisting. Is it really such a great thing to join the Freedom Forces? The boys at school say they'd do the same as soon as they become of age."
"It's folly of youth, is what it is," Oberon muttered with a shake of his head from behind the newspaper he'd bought from the caravan just yesterday. Hermione knew it was well out of date. Most of the newspapers sold by the merchants usually were.
Hermione turned her curious gaze to her dad and tilted her head to the side. "Why? Even Miss Green said they'd be a great addition to the rebellion's efforts."
Oberon lowered his papers and caught her eye. "Listen, poppet. There's a fine line between bravery and recklessness. If those boys think going to war will be glorious, they'll be in for a rude awakening." He shook his head again. "War is ugly and gruesome. It leaves only a trail of destruction and tragedy. There's nothing glorious about it."
"But the Freedom Forces have been fighting the clobs for years, dad. You don't think they can win?" Hermione's brows furrowed. This was the first time she'd heard anyone say anything contrary about the revolution. And it was especially surprising to her to hear her dad say so. Her own grandfather, Simeon Granger, had left to fight against the clobs when her dad had been a boy, after all, though it was way before the Freedom Forces was formed. If anyone in Dweller Haven understood the necessity of war, it should have been her dad. "Alfie said that if the Freedom Forces wins, we could even leave Dweller Haven, live out in the open like we used to. So the Freedome Forces haven't got much of a choice but to fight, have they?"
Oberon leaned back against his armchair that sat adjacent to Elizabeth's and nodded. "I'm not saying that it's all for naught. The revolutionaries are fighting for all of us and our freedom. I think it's admirable to fight for something you believe in. In fact, I highly encourage you do too."
Elizabeth gasped, aghast. "Oberon!"
Her father chuckled, amused by his teasing, before he gave Hermione a sly half-smile "All I'm saying is if you're going to look for a fight, you have to consider all your options. Consider things objectively and make sure you have all the information you need before jumping in. Not doing so is a sure way to get you and your friends killed." Oberon paused and glance furtively around them for effect. "Or worse."
Hermione's eyes widened. "What's worse than that?"
Oberon opened his mouth to respond.
But Elizabeth beat him to it. "Well, now, that's enough of that! No more talk of war and death," she said loudly as she deposited her knitting onto the basket beside her chair. She sent her husband a reproachful look. "Oberon, you know better." To Hermione, she said, "Come on, my darling. Help me set the table; it's time for supper."
Hermione remained conflicted on her seat for a brief before she stood and followed her mother to the kitchen. She desperately wanted to know what could be worse than death. Unfortunately, she never got the chance to find out.
At the end of the day, nothing was worse than crossing her mother.
.:OOO:.
The Freedom Forces was an army of non-magical revolutionaries that fought against the Empire. They liberated captives and hostages and opposed the clobs that sought to oppress them. For many, the Freedom Forces were their heroes, brave men who fought for their freedom.
The years following the rise of the Clob Empire, when civilisation as the common men knew it fell and they were chased into hiding, many people had tried to fight the wand-wielders. They had, however, failed every time. Ordinary men had no chance against beings who could use unknown forces.
It was some more years later, when the Freemen had finally organised themselves into a functioning society, did they finally band together to start a revolution. The call to fight had spread far and wide across the Freelands.
Many a man had answered that call. The call of true freedom — a life without fear of persecution.
.:OOO:.
Like a random, errant thought, it wasn't until weeks later that Hermione suddenly remembered a peculiar name out of the blue.
"The Order of the Phoenix," she murmured quietly to no one in particular, the book on gear mechanics she was reading momentarily forgotten. The words, spoken out loud, sounded unfamiliar on her tongue.
A loud crash erupted, the sharp clatter of metal and stone deafening inside the ramshackle shed.
Hermione jumped in surprise, her heart leaping. She whipped her head up to see a wincing Archie standing by the hulking, four-wheeled contraption they'd been working on for the last two weeks, tools and materials laying haphazardly on the floor.
"W-What did you say?" he stammered, looking for all the world like he'd been caught redhanded with his hand in the biscuit tin Mrs Pickering had warned him about staying out of.
A heavy silence followed his guilty twitching. Hermione gazed at her friend curiously. Finally, she said, "I just said," she let the unfamiliar words come out slowly this time, articulated clearly. "'The Order of the Phoenix'."
"O-oh…" Archie shifted from one foot to another. He let out a nervous laugh before he bent down to collect the things he'd dropped. "W-where did you hear that from? That sounds like a silly name."
"I heard Mrs Figg and the cloth merchant talking about it the other day." Hermione's brows furrowed in a suspicious frown, sharp eyes tracking the stiff way Archie was walking towards his work table. She paused for a heartbeat before asking, "Why? Do you know what it means?"
Archie shook his head, sounding all nonchalant and casual if not for the twitch in his eye. "No, I have no—"
"You know what it is, don't you?" Hermione jumped up from her usual perch by the window.
"No! Don't be silly!" Archie denied immediately, shaking his head from side to side so furiously, strands of his longish flaxen hair swished about his grease stained forehead.
"Archie! You liar!" Hermione advanced on him. If there was one way to make her curious, it was to withhold the knowledge of a thing — anything — from her. She stomped a foot on the ground. "Tell me, what is the Order of the Phoenix!"
Archie cringed at the shrill tone that rang through the shed and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Shhh! Keep your voice down! Blimey!"
Hermione tore his hand away and pinched the underside of his arm. "Archie MacBoon, if you don't tell me right now, I'm telling Miss Green you were the one who put the toad in Reggie Wright's rucksack!"
"Ow!" Archie jerked his arm back, wincing and glaring at the smaller girl accusingly. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you! But you can't mention any of this to anyone!"
Hermione nodded eagerly and crossed at her heart, swearing secrecy. "I promise!"
Archie looked around the room, as if ensuring that they were both truly alone (they were), leaned forward with his hand covering his mouth and murmured sotto voce, "The Order is a rebel group."
"Like the Freedom Forces?" Hermione's brows rose in inquiry.
Archie tilted his chin down in an affirmative. "Yeah, but they're...well, they're clobs. Freemen Clobs."
.:OOO:.
News of a clash between the Freedom Forces and the Empire broke like wildfire in the settlement one day. A platoon of Freemen Fighters were ambushed and defeated by imperial clobs at one of their facilities. Many were reportedly killed or taken prisoner.
It was disheartening news to the people of Dweller Haven. A pall of disquiet had hung in the air, tension and fear humming low and heavy. At the school, even the children, all of whom unsurprisingly looked up to the Freemen Fighters, were despondent, less animated and bright.
Ten-year-old Hermione sighed as she packed her school materials in her bag. Miss Green was dismissing them all early today. Not one of her peers seemed to be in the mood to pay attention. Despite her disappointment at class ending early though, she could understand the dejection everyone felt around her. The Freedom Forces were their defenders, the heroes who fought for the oppressed non-magicals and defied the Empire. If they were defeated, what would be left of them all? Would it only be a matter of time before the clobs found them?
"Ready?" Archie asked as he walked up to her desk.
Hermione nodded. She and Archie had an afternoon routine and it hadn't changed since she was eight. That day was no different. That was until Reggie Wright and his stupid friends got ahold of them on their way to Archie's shed.
Hermione had been the one to spot them first: a group of three boys huddled around an old birch tree, looking like the idiots they were…
Not unlike how they often are at school, really. She rolled her eyes at the sight of them. Archie, on the other hand, stiffened; a reaction that wasn't entirely unwarranted.
"Shite," Archie muttered, his steps slowing on the path.
Hermione couldn't help but agree. While she didn't get along with the majority of her peers, nor did she generally care for any of them, she especially disliked Reggie. He was mean, loud, and short-tempered. It didn't help that he was a big kid; bigger than most of the kids their age, which made it easier for him to bully everyone else and he knew it.
But Archie — Archie loathed him.
And so, it seemed, did Reggie.
"Hey, you clob!" Reggie jeered when he spotted them. His mates turned in their direction and Archie cursed again.
It was too late to turn back now.
The group of nincompoops stormed towards them, their steps thunderous in the dirt, forcing Hermione and Archie to stop in their tracks.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at them, ready to verbally lash at them. At school, she'd always gone to the teacher whenever Reggie decided to be a dunce to them. But when he, instead, rushed forward and pushed her friend to the ground without a word, Hermione was at a loss. She gaped, rooted to the spot, aghast to witness Archie fall down roughly with a thud.
"Hey!" she exclaimed. She turned to help Archie to his feet. "What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?"
Reggie had always been a big, stupid ratbag, and he'd always taunted and jeered at Archie for being a squib, but he'd never actually physically hurt him before! Especially when Archie had never once directly fought back. Not once.
Hermione looked up at them angrily, ready to verbally eviscerate them, but the rage she saw on their faces had her words dying on her tongue. She drew back in bewilderment at the dark look on the boys' brows as they towered over them, eyes filled with pure hostility.
"You must think you're so much better than us, don't you?" Reggie snarled, and the boys on either side of him jeered in agreement.
Archie and Hermione exchanged confused looks. What were they on about?
"I don't know what you're talking about," Archie responded with a defiant scowl as he stood.
"Just because you clobs won this time, doesn't mean the Freedom Forces won't come back and beat your arses again!" Reggie spat.
"Yeah, you clobs need to be taught a lesson!" The boy to Reggie's right — Oscar, Hermione recalled — agreed with a nasty sneer.
Hermione glared up at them incredulously. Were they actually stupid?
"You know what? You're right!" Reggie said, and before either children could blink, Reggie was on Archie, pushing his roughly on the ground again and straddling his torso so the other boy couldn't move. The next thing they knew, Reggie was punching Archie in the face. "This is what clobs like you deserve!"
"Ger'off me!" Archie struggled against the bigger boy's hold, arms flailing to pull at the hand clutching at the collar of his shirt.
"What are you doing?!" Shocked and horrified, Hermione moved to pull Reggie off of her friend.
"Clobs like you deserve to die!" One of the other boys cried hatefully. He shoved Hermione out of the way roughly. They advanced and surrounded Archie, joining in on the assault, kicking and punching wherever they could, their jeers and insults unintelligible in the wake of Archie's cries of pain.
"Stop it!" Hermione yelled, scared now. She desperately grasped at one of the boys she was closest to and tried to pull him away from her friend lying prone on the ground. "You're hurting him! Stop it!"
The boy whose shirt she was frantically pulling at jerked his arm sharply and elbowed her back roughly, catching her in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her. "Get out of here!"
Hermione fell back again with a heavy thud, her hands scraping painfully against the sharp cluster of stones beneath her. She'd never been hit by anyone before and the pain blooming from her stomach where she'd been hit left her winded. Catching her breath, she watched helplessly as the boys ganged up on her defenceless friend. Archie had curled up in a foetal position, shielding himself as best he could from the blows raining down on him.
"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Hermione cried again, feeling utterly powerless and her tears started to well up. These boys were older, bigger, and meaner than her. Panic started to set in. Then she saw blood trickle down Archie's temple and her horror mounted. "I said, stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!"
Suddenly, the earth shook beneath their feet and a loud crack rent the air. A flash of lightning lit up the sky.
The boys halted their assault, pulling back and looking around them in confusion.
Hermione stood slowly, so enraged and overwhelmed all she could see was red. She felt the familiar stirrings of her magic, warm and electric, buzzing and crackling like live wire. Her body felt hot and her eyes were burning but all she could think of was how she wished she could hurt them like they were hurting Archie. She wanted to hurt them.
"I said," she uttered in a tremulous voice, drawing the attention of their attackers, "leave him alone!"
In a move that could only be borne from pure instinct, Hermione grasped at the power boiling out of her and slashed an arm to the ground.
Almost instantly, a bolt of lightning tore through the air, striking the old birch tree close by.
BOOM!
As the deafening crackle of thunder subsided, the leaves rustled in the wind as the trunk and its branches creaked under its own weight. The smell of burnt wood permeated the thick silence in the air. Then, the birch broke in half and the top fell to the ground with a deafening thud.
The boys could only gape — at her, at the fallen tree, frozen in shock. Even Archie was paralysed. Hermione slashed another hand to the ground, too angry to do anything else but unleash her fury.
Another flash of lighting appeared with a resonant crack, and this time it struck the ground not a yard away from where the bullies (and Archie) stood.
CRRRACK!
This seemed to snap the older boys out of their stupor, their expressions morphing from shocked to petrified. The next thing Hermione knew, they'd turned tail and ran off, stumbling and tripping over themselves in their haste, faces pale and knees trembling.
The sight of their retreating forms brought Hermione down from her wrath, the heat of her emotions slowly subsiding. She shook from rage and she took deep breaths until she felt the swell of her magic fall away.
And then realisation dawned on her like a bucket of ice cold water.
She blanched.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
What had she done?
Shaken and horrified, her gaze slowly drifted to the down...down to where a bloody and bruised Archie still lay, face just as ashen as hers. His eyes were wide, terrified and alight with recognition.
The look on his face was enough to have her breathing heavily again.
But it was the words he uttered, softly, shakily, that had her quaking.
"Witch."
.:OOO:.
Author's Notes: Yes, I did just end that in a cliffhanger. *Evil laugh*