Taking Stock and Decisions
Knowing that it would take time for all the Death Eaters to be arrested, and in many cases, it would be a complete impossibility because they had been acquitted and retrospective arrests after overturning the previous judgements were impossible, no further shenanigans were affected by the time traveller.
However, Amelia Bones, now working to salvage her honour and reputation as a Bones, was working harder than ever. She had given her Aurors carte blanche to get into entrapment and destroy as many Death Eaters as they possibly could. Some Death Eaters were like Walden McNair – psychopaths and sociopaths. Fenrir Greyback, for whom a continental hunt had been arranged, was one of them. Some were supremacists who wouldn't let go a chance at some muggle-baiting and a little torture for daily appetisers. Some were plain greedy and had been lured by power and money. There was no hesitation on the DMLE's side as they went about bringing them down. It was the last kind though, that Amelia sympathised – nay, empathised with. These were the ones threatened into being Death Eaters, or those who had become Death Eaters as ransom in lieu of some family member. She dealt with them sternly but fairly. Anything else and it would have been the case of the pot calling the kettle black.
Malfoy and Nott were special cases because they had turned up in the Death Eater garb, and it had placed Fudge into a precarious position. If they weren't arrested, he would be lynched by the public. If he would, he would lose funding. As it stood, they were both dead.
The Malfoys were completely disavowed by Sirius, and called as Oath Breakers. Narcissa and Draco, both of whom had lost their swagger, money and the family name, had been assigned the name of Rosier – after Druella Rosier, Narcissa's mother's maiden name. Just to ensure that the Rosier money, comfortable for a family of two looking to disappear behind the scenes, was not turned over to Voldemort, its stewardship had been entrusted to the Chief Warlock. They had both been packed off to the US, where Draco was now enrolled at Salem. Narcissa had to give an Unbreakable Vow to ensure that she would renounce bigotry in all forms, and also do everything within her power to ensure that Draco would do so too. Draco had been put under surveillance. A step out of line and he would be inside Azkaban quicker than you could say "Oh!"
All told, eighty seven Death Eaters had been put behind bars or executed by a particularly angry DMLE. It was a massive blow for that lot, because Voldemort was fresh out of enforcers. Ergo, he had lesser resources.
The murder of Crouch Sr. in his home meant that the warning Harry had given Dumbledore was now flagged as high priority. Dumbledore had agreed that some things had to be done the same way, including Crouch Jr., even though the man had the gift of future knowledge. They had no way to know what Crouch Jr. would do with that information in the long run. He was being hunted, but that was it. The bits and pieces were the important things to consider at the moment.
A worse treatment was awaiting Lestrange. Currently, a fresh dose of the Draught of Living Death was being brewed. Neither of the Lestranges needed to be awake to access any of their properties and their Gringotts vault – they just needed to be alive. They had already been moved to a Ministry safe house to which Scrimgeour was the secret-keeper. It would be done soon, and Dumbledore expressly forbade Harry from venturing out of school on that 'mission' as the old man chose to call it.
The reason was simple – it would not do for him to be seen around Aurors, as it would give rise to speculation. Kingsley, Mad-Eye, and three more within the Ministry, as well as Sirius and Remus, had been earmarked to work in that capacity once things had been brought under control. There had been no argument. Dumbledore did not give reasons, but Harry no longer needed them all the time either. They would never be as close as Harry was with Dumbledore till before Sirius' death when he constantly sought the Headmaster's approval, but there wouldn't be the discord between them that arose later, either. They both recognised the need to work together, as well as the need to keep appearances. Harry recognised the situations where Dumbledore would take the lead, and Dumbledore stopped treating Harry like a kid. They were two men, working towards the common goal of bringing Voldemort down for once and for all.
They had agreed instead, that Harry and Sirius would spend the summer at Hogwarts with Dumbledore and the three would strip the castle down in its entirety to weed out the Horcrux. The wand, the quill and the locket, had all been destroyed, as had been the diary. In other words, Voldemort was at least forty percent dead. That was farther than they had ever reached before. With two more solid leads, things were looking better and better.
For the time being, therefore, Harry was spending time with his friends (who had of course forgotten the Feast of Souls), godfather Sirius (Sirius was recuperating within Hogwarts walls. The old mutt took full benefit of that, hanging around and flirting with the older female students (lightly, or as he said, "only for practice"; Hermione and Remus had hexed him badly) and Professor Babbling and Professor Vector (Siriusly...er...seriously). As it turned out, even Sirius had standards. Sybil Trelawney was strictly off limits) and uncle Remus – and of course, his girlfriend. Harry had known that the woman he loved had a wild side. The kitty really had claws. What he didn't know was that in private, Hermione, the girl that was becoming a woman, was just as wild. Apparently, her taste for books strayed into blush-causing genres as well. Just for a lark, he had read a book she had been reading the night before on the couch in the common room. The man who had killed six people since his return to the timeline had resembled a tomato as he snapped it shut after two pages. It seemed Hermione had far too many fantasies that she had acted out on later. It gave Harry more reason to both love books and to be scared of them as well.
It had been a bit very reluctantly, that Harry had pushed Hermione away a bit.
"Minnie, you know I love you don't you?"
"Of course, I do, Harry," Hermione replied with a grin. Hearing those words made her heart flutter each time.
"You know that I find you attractive as well?"
"Yes," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "What is the point then?"
"Will you please stop with the slow writhing thing you do every bloody single time we kiss?"
"Why?" the girl asked with some hurt in her voice.
"Hormones, my dear Hermione, Hormones with the capital 'H' – they will be the death of us."
"What do you –?"
"Don't play coy. You know that I know what you are thinking. The Elder-me has been in this situation with you and believe me, I truly can't believe you of all people would do that!"
"Do what?"
Harry gave her the gimlet eye before whispering into her ear. Hermione blushed redder and redder, but it was obvious that whatever Harry had told her was an enjoyable thought, given the grin she was also sporting.
"Damn it woman! I need my right head to think!"
Hermione huffed. "You can't take even a bit of teasing, Potter."
"Say that when I tease you Granger."
Hermione, in a sterling display of prudish behaviour, just smiled at Harry and replied, "I will look forward to it, Potter."
Harry wondered what had made the woman so wanton.
That didn't mean all was calm. Harry had told them all about Luna's warning. This meant that they would all have to be ready to fight. Hermione had decided to start studying spells of the more esoteric kind – just as she had done 'before'. She was the first of the rest of the eight to start preparing. Harry hadn't thought that that course of action would make him love her even more, and also hurt painfully as he remembered the family they had. It also made the Neanderthal in him attempt to shed dormancy as he felt the urge to go about grunting, hollering and smashing Death Eaters' heads so she wouldn't have to fight.
Each of the fighters had individual styles. Ron was the more slam-bang kind of fighter. He tossed blasting spells with such ease that not even muggle bombs could match. He also was curse-heavy. Lavender made up for that with her trick spells. Her masterclass was the water net. An unsuspecting Death Eater would step into a puddle, only to drown in water several metres deep.
Ginny, influenced by Tom, fought in a way closest to Voldemort, casting Unforgivables and all sorts of hexes and jinxes. She was just as good as Harry was at DADA. Luna worked the magic of the air. She had mastered the reverse of the bubblehead charm – hers created a vacuum around the victim's head, and had created a tornado spell that lacked control but could take away swathes of the scum. She spent more efforts in healing though.
Susan was their resident torture, interrogation, and body disposal specialist all rolled into one. Each of them could do that, but she could do it with glee. Neville was the truly special one. He had realised that the DEs were expecting spells. So he had diversified to potion bombs and cursed bullets, offensive Herbology and physical takedowns. It was effective.
Hermione always researched and cycled between spells the opponent didn't know. She had landed one on the bitch, Lestrange, herself, killing her ever so slowly, to avenge Susan. Harry took after James, Lily and Sirius in a fight. Like Sirius, he tempered all his transfiguration and charm heavy fighting style he had inherited from his parents with creative uses. Sirius used them for pranks, Harry used them to kill. He had once transfigured a few DEs to sheep and a few others to wolves, and instigated a feeding frenzy. Human transfiguration using spells didn't allow the transfigured humans to keep their human senses.
As much as they all wanted the children – for in their early teens, that was what they were in respect to the war – both Dumbledore and Harry knew that sooner rather than later, they would all have to do things that would be necessary but nothing to be proud of. So it was agreed that it would be better for them to be trained monsters not needing the skills than be innocent fools.
The only matter of contention was regarding who should be told. While initially Harry thought that Amelia Bones would be an obvious choice, her apathy towards her job had made him leery about that prospect. When Dumbledore had insisted that he trusted her to do the right thing, Harry had snapped back with a question: was it the same sort of trust he had in Severus Snape?
Telling the other seven about the future completely was fraught with problems as well. They were underage, and therefore would need the consent of their parents. Harry, Moony and Padfoot were special cases, because each knew where the other stood, though the devil was in the details. Telling Susan brought up the problem of telling Amelia again. Hermione had muggle parents, who would just as soon withdraw her. Neville's grandmother was an unknown variable, as was Xenophilius Lovegood. And neither the Headmaster nor the student dared to be the one to tell everything to Molly Weasley. She would first hug her children, then hug Harry and Hermione and then cry over the fate of her unborn grandchildren. Then she would go about planning Ron's wedding to Lavender and attempt to accept the idea of Ginny and Luna together.
No. Fighting Voldemort and Grindelwald was preferable to going up against Molly Weasley at her maternal best. When this problem was explained fully, Ron and Ginny practically begged in jest to not be told.
In the end, they decided to limit the reveal to a few trusted people – Mad-Eye, Sirius, Remus, as Harry suggested and Dumbledore concurred and Harry conceded upon the topic of Amelia Bones. This would be the first 'batch' of people who'd be told. If he could be convinced to help train the eight, Mad-Eye would be roped in for that as well. Once they received his certificate as people who wouldn't die in battle foolishly (which was the highest praise possible), the next 'batch' would be told. These would be the actual eight and their parents – barring Amelia and Sirius and Remus, of course.
The biggest hitch came in the form of the Dursleys, who had hitherto been the elephants in the room.
"Harry, there remains one question left to address. What of the Dursleys?"
"What of them?"
Dumbledore stared at the man. "Surely you must understand the necessity for protection."
"I can protect myself very well, thank you."
"But the protection afforded by the familial bonds..."
"...never existed. They weren't, aren't and will never be my family. Do not presume to know better on that matter."
"So would you leave them alone? You would let them flounder?"
"No. I would introduce them to the Lestranges as the loving relatives of Harry Potter, and for that one time I won't be sarcastic. I am quite sure the two idiots will be unable to resist a spot of muggle torture."
Dumbledore flinched like a scalded cat. "Surely not..."
"As I said, do not presume. I hate them. They hate me. We are well shot of each other. If you want them protected, it's your fucking conscience and your fucking duty. I. Don't. Care!"
The issue was dropped there and then. Dumbledore wasn't sure that Harry wouldn't harm the muggles.
It was late on the 15th of June that Gryffindor's Helmet was found in a secret room at one of the Lestrange properties in Norwood. It was promptly destroyed. Harry wondered whether Sir Doyle was a Wizard who had at one time visited the Lestranges. The construction that Dumbledore described was very peculiarly similar – nay, congruous – to the story of the Norwood Builder. Voldemort was now really half dead. The Diary, the Quill, the Wand, the Helmet were accounted for. With the impending cleansing of the castle slated for mid-July, it would mean one more important piece of the monster gone.
Fudge had made a wonderful media story where the Boy-Who-Lived witnessed the killing of the true traitor and was reunited with his innocent and victimised godfather, so there was no real danger to him. Harry had personally met the man just before and after to ensure that the Minister understood just what would happen to him if he slipped thereafter in anyway.
Harry was sitting in the classroom where he was being allowed to meet Fudge. Well, 'allowed' was a very loose term. Dumbledore had put him up to the 'bad cop' activities again. So Harry sat there in a conjured chair and with a conjured table (courtesy Sirius) in between, his feet propped up and crossed on the latter.
Fudge came in at the appointed time, followed by Kingsley and Alastor of all people. Evidently, Fudge believed he needed protection from Harry – a very wise deduction.
"Hello Fudge. Sit." He pointed to a chair facing him. He then briefly removed his feet off the table and addressed the two Aurors formally. "I welcome you Aurors. Please have a seat."
Both understood immediately and obeyed.
"So, Mr. Fudge," Harry started as his eyes zeroed in on the little shit.
"It is Minister Fudge, Harry," the man whimpered condescendingly. It was truly magical how he managed it.
"You are alive so long as you are useful to me, Cornelius. And you shall address me as Mr. Potter, or Heir Black. Which reminds me, all the monies gained and items bought off the money Lucius gave you have been reclaimed and liquidated. You shall find yourself poorer by about five hundred thousand galleons."
The Minister paled. He had just received the news that his net worth had been reduced by a quarter. "You can't be Heir Black! It was..."
"...not Draco Malfoy. I understand that you attempted to curry favour based on that. I can, you know, call a motion of no-confidence through Sirius, then put word around about how you have been supporting murderers. Of course, that will reflect upon your reputation nicely, won't it?"
Fudge looked like he had swallowed his tongue.
"So I suppose you understand what I have done, and what I can do. Now onwards, you shall show your support to whatever Albus Dumbledore, Amelia Bones and Sirius Black put in front of you. Let me assure you that I have the keys to all you cupboards. I will rather relish letting the skeletons out one juicy bone at a time to the media."
How Cornelius managed to parody Dobby was a question that troubled Harry.
"You shall also sign a writ of innocence for Rubeus Hagrid, and you shall give the same reason regarding why he had been put into Azkaban last year. As I remember you saying, "You needed to be seen doing something." Well what you do will be controlled by Sirius. Attempt to stray, and I shall kill you in the middle of the Diagon Alley – or on second thoughts, I will have the public lynch you. You are just a playground bully stealing their lunch money, aren't you?"
"You can't threaten me, Potter!" snarled a quivering Cornelius Fudge with false bravado. The bravado came from the part that he had Aurors with him. He was quivering because he knew that the monster seated opposite him could kill him if he so wanted.
"Can't he, Cornelius?" asked Kingsley, brandishing his wand.
"You!" sputtered the Minister as he sat numbly in shock.
"Yes. You don't honestly think that you really are the Minister, do you? You have hitherto danced to Malfoy's tunes, now it will be to ours."
Fudge had become a good little puppet after that. It was not a big change as far as his situation was concerned, personally. He was a puppet before, and he still was now. Only his master had changed.
Telling the 'first batch' about the memories, as it turned out, was not a completely good idea.
Amelia looked at him and Dumbledore as if they were insane, as did Moody. Remus sat sadly at the idea of the war, then felt happy about his little family and then felt sadder at losing Sirius, and again on behalf of Harry's family as well. Sirius was a bit irritated, then he saw who Moony married and resisted the urge to punch Remus' nose through the back of his head. His own death was a bit surreal for the mutt. He decided that Bellatrix was insane enough, and wished her a torrid time in hell mentally. His anger at Pettigrew though, knew no bounds. The snivelling rat had had the utter gall to destroy the Potter family again. But as in Azkaban, he internalised the anger and let it out through slow breaths.
"Is this a well thought out prank or are you both insane?" Amelia finally asked.
"I really don't care what you think Bones. I've given you proof during the Hogwarts Hysteria," Harry replied, using the name that the press had privately coined. Amelia winced. "I am giving you all the knowledge, ensuring that that little shit, Voldemort, will be dead by next year, and you are worried about my sanity?"
"But time travel?" asked Amelia weakly.
"Go ask Croaker. The ritual I used is the same one on which the pithy little time turners are based on!"
"If I may interrupt, I have to insist that I believe him. He gave me a piece of information that none of you have, and I am not sure whether I should divulge to anyone. It simply couldn't have been obtained any other way," Albus informed them.
"But time travel is not possible at that scale!"
"I don't see how Mr. Potter returning through time is a greater problem than the continued existence of Voldemort," Albus authoritatively overrode her. "The Quill Mad-Eye collected, the excursion into the Lestrange properties were all for that one reason. Do not fall into a trap that you needn't, Director. We are working against Voldemort. Don't fight against your own side!"
They only received grudging acceptance. It was irrelevant. So long as Voldemort was gone and Harry had everyone he loved alive and well to party when that happened, he couldn't be bothered any less if they believed him or not. In the simplest words, he summarised, "Till Riddle lives, we shall be on one side. After that, so long as you don't fuck with me and mine, I won't trouble you."
Alastor gave an appreciative grunt. The brat had stolen his motto – the real one that is – and used it; it wasn't CONSTANT VIGILANCE. It was 'don't fuck with me or mine'. "I will train yeh."
"Thank you, Mad-Eye. I need you to teach me how to fight."
The grizzled old Auror gave him the gimlet eye. The feeling was overly disconcerting when the blue magical eye glared alongside the narrowed normal one. "Yeh think yeh know better, eh?"
"No. You taught me to stay alive and to kill. That was why I placed an inhibiting bracelet on you the moment you came in, and you don't even know. We didn't have enough time to fight and subdue an opponent long enough to use him then. Now it will be important."
Mad-Eye's eyes widened as he looked at his wrist. Sure enough, he saw the bracelet, and realised that he couldn't cast a spell. Now that he thought of it, his magical eye wasn't working magically either. "Good work there, Potter," he praised grudgingly. "I see you did learn from me."
Harry just inclined his head a touch, keeping both eyes on the man. Mad-Eye grinned. The brat had learnt from him.
"You have got a trainer for your band of misfits, Potter," he reaffirmed, completely and truly meaning what he said. "Get them in line and at the ready."
"Yes, Master Moody."
"Does that band of misfits include Susan, again?"
"I would rather that she is included. I would rather like her alive to give me back one of my three god-sprogs," Harry replied dryly. Then completely seriously, he added, "She is a far better interrogator and investigator than even you, if and when you do want to tread on that faction's toes, and that says something."
Amelia ended up with a cross between a grimace and a proud expression. She had heard too much about her niece, who was practically her daughter, on one hand, and had heard the same girl being praised, that made her feel ten feet tall. And she added a wince at the barb about her wilful apathy.
"That brings us nicely to my real question," growled Mad-Eye. It was funny. He never said, or spoke, or interjected or anything. Whatever he wanted to say always came out as a growl. He could have proclaimed that he was happy and would have still ended up growling that out. Most people were convinced that his larynx was composed of rocks.
"Yes?"
"Amelia here knows. She will understand the need for teaching her niece. What about the others?"
Dumbledore had been pondering about the same. "Quite true, Alastor," he agreed. "Questions will be asked regarding why such training is necessary. After all, it is not right that we train children to fight wars that adults should fight and win."
"As we wondered the other day, Headmaster, who – and how – is going to tell the Weasleys? And let's just delegate worrying about Madam Longbottom's reaction," Harry pointed out as he added his two Knuts.
There was an awkward silence. Maelstrom Mother Molly was most certainly not to be trifled with, and that was the tip of the iceberg. They had a Wizengamot member to contend with. The only thing that could be done was to convince their parents that it was better for their children to learn the methods of Mad-Eye and not need them instead of the other way around.
At long last, Amelia volunteered. "I will explain things to Gus and Molly..."
"Were you male, I would have made a comment about having balls of steel, but I am sure you wouldn't appreciate that," Harry deadpanned. He received incredulous glares and snorts in response. "However, you realise that you will have to give them something to help digest all that, don't you?"
Amelia groaned. Of course, that would be the case. People had the propensity to be righteously indignant about matters if it was the kids taking the initiative, even if in some cases the very same people had done nothing but sit back and twiddle their thumbs. "Merlin's hairy armpit, it's going to be a nightmare!" she groaned. She looked to Dumbledore and Mad-Eye for some way out of the mess.
Mad-Eye backed out immediately. "You volunteered for it, Missy. Don't you dare look to me for answers now!" he commanded.
"I have no solution at hand either," Dumbledore added hastily.
The two me received filthy glares from the aggrieved Madam Bones.
An axe he may have had to grind with her, but Harry was in a fairly generous mood. "I do have something to help you out over this."
"Yes?"
"It's not necessary to make them feel out of their depth, is it? There' something regarding deep, soul magic that they can do for me."
Dumbledore felt cold ride up his spine. Was this the method by which Harry would reveal how he had had his scar purged? That wasn't a scary prospect by itself, but if he even implied that he, Albus Dumbledore, had waited for sixteen years to do the deed, Albus was sure that he would be torn to shreds.
"Soul magic?" questioned Amelia with a frown.
"Yes. You see, the future-knowledge-bearing part of me is not truly of this time and place. I loved my Hermione, my children and my friends who were my only true family. That world is now lost beyond repair."
"Yes," agreed Amelia, cautiously.
"Well, as you mightn't know, my scar is a receptacle of dark magic. It needs to be treated. Professor Dumbledore needed three more years to find the solution. I would say that many hands will make light work here. I need to be sent on to my 'next great adventure' to join my family, and the Harry of this time needs to be kept here. This needs to be done either at the same time as Voldemort dies, or after he dies, so that the more ruthless part of me is available for the fight. You could always pitch the research as helping me on."
Albus felt only marginally relieved. It was a none-too-subtle jab to remind him that the purging ritual had to be conducted as well. He had however, not thought of the prospects of the future Harry needing to go on. It struck home – the need, the urge to go back to his family. It was what he wished for, for several years after the defeat of Gellert Grindelwald. At that moment he felt genuine sympathy, and dare he say it, empathy for the boy/man in front of him.
"That would do," he agreed. "Though to be safe, they will have to consent to being bound by oaths, this is something that they will deem more dangerous than the training itself."
"And why would you not ask help from the Department of Mysteries for this?"
Albus actually smiled grimly as he answered, "Augustus Rookwood."
"He is in jail!" Amelia scoffed.
"And needs to be put down at the earliest," interjected Harry. "He knows too much, and even Voldemort values his knowledge. Perhaps you will understand it better when I tell you that we found out that he was the only Death Eater that Voldemort never tortured."
"That apart," argued the Headmaster, "I don't trust them. Worse still, I fear that they might remand my student to research custody. I will say this just once. The Ministry only feared that I might try and take over in the timeline that Harry is from. I will actually do that if such a travesty, as I fear the DoM may participate in, comes to reality and fruition." Dumbledore's tone was calm on the surface, but it held every hint of menace that the most powerful wizard of his generation could muster – and that was a lot.
The stilted nod he received in return told him that his threat was taken as intended. It was grim, but Albus knew that like everyone else, he too had been given a second chance. It was too precious to waste.
The next afternoon found Harry smothered in a Molly Weasley hug that threatened to do the job for Voldemort. This was of course after Poppy Pomfrey, who had been asked to be ready for a medical emergency in case someone took the matters badly, had surreptitiously checked Ginny and Ron, and the twins as well, for any bruising on their abdomen due to constriction.
"You poor dear!" the maternal lady sobbed. "I can't imagine having to take such steps."
Harry couldn't respond as he was struggling for breath, only managing to flip the bird at Ron who was grinning in a "better-you-than-me" way from behind his mother's back. Molly released him when he started to struggle a bit.
Patting her shoulder weakly, he attempted to console her, "You have to understand Mrs. Weasley that for Gin, Ron and I, there really was no other solution left. Ron and I lost our wives and children. A simple Sunday Brunch at the Burrow where mine and Hermione's children, and Ron and Lavender's brood were spending time with their mothers and Grandpa and Grandma Weasley turned out to be the last moments of their lives." Molly managed to break into a beatific smile when Harry uttered the magic words – Grandma Weasley – before bursting into sobs anew as he continued, "We had to kill all of your bodies. What else could we have done? Desperation drives people to all manners of madness."
Ron cautiously approached his mother. She had freed Harry, but it now seemed that she would very possibly grab him in a hug. That was something he wanted to avoid at the moment. All things said and done, he liked his ribs intact. "Mum?" he called. "You will allow all of us to learn, won't you?"
Molly continued with her sobs for a few more moments, before centring herself with a deep breath and declaring resolutely, "Oh, I am going to do more than that. I am not going to be much help with deep magic, but I am going to learn to fight. All of us are. I will not let those monsters harm my babies this time – and that includes their spouses and friends as well!"
None of the aforementioned 'babies' were sure what to think of that.
Mrs. Weasley's reaction was the only one of note. She had of course allowed her children to see the future, and had also accepted Luna into her family. She had resumed her duties as the Matron/Warden of the Headquarters, though with much more ease. Sirius' iron rule on his house ensured that the little shit, Kreacher, and the portrait of Walburga would bother nobody. Molly always had a temper, and they had later found the first time around, that the combination of the House's inherent darkness, the presence of the Horcrux and the two remnants of the Blacks before Sirius only exacerbated the problem.
The Browns had to be memory charmed because they decided that it was dangerous for their daughter. Lavender was not brought into the fold, something that caused Harry much strife. He had come to genuinely like his best mate's wife as a friend. The two were very well suited to each other, and he wondered whether he would have to pull a Ron for them.
Augusta had accepted her role among the researchers, as had Remus, while Sirius and Amelia got into the Ministry. Xenophilius only smiled and asked whether he would be allowed to run a story regarding Stubby Boardman's return making it possible for the Hobgoblins to unite and help save the world. Both had allowed their children to be trained. In Neville's case, the training would eventually go a long way to making him confident, something that had started with having his own wand. Madam Pomfrey took Luna under her wing.
It was Hermione's parents though, that had been the greatest roadblocks as far as the time traveller could discern. They were non-magical. And Hermione had been hurt enough in her first two years. He quite forgot that the woman who was and would be his wife was far too clever to let something like that stop her.
Alan and Agatha listened in rapt silence as Hermione wove a story regarding a prophetic dream, and supplemented it with her test scores.
At long last Alan spoke. "So these people will covet you for your abilities, but are not good?"
"Yes Daddy."
"And you and your friends want to learn to magically protect yourselves even better because of that?"
"Yes."
"It will help you?"
"Yes."
Alan lapsed into a silence and then glanced at his wife, who agreed with a grim nod.
"Alright, you can take up this special training."
Hermione had convinced her parents that the 'dream' was about a group of terrorists who would value her brains and power but would harm the world, and that she and her friends were going to undergo special training to prevent her from being harmed. Harry, Ron, Neville, Susan and Ginny quite vociferously agreed, while Luna serenely commented that Hermione would be gaining abilities that way helped sway the Grangers towards allowing their daughter to participate.
Truly, Hermione could sometimes be a real piece of work. What fourteen year old so successfully manipulated their parents?
