30 Minutes That Changed Everything

by Radaslab

AU. Year 2148: Gobal Population: 1. He made a mistake 150 years ago or so and now the human race no longer exists. For a century or so, he has sought a way to fix it all. Can he, or is the end of the world inevitable?

42. Chapter 42

DISCLAIMER: That part of this world and those characters you've seen before belong to their Creator: JKR. The rest is mine - although I cannot quit my day job as I make no $$$ from this…

A/N: I regret updates may be a little slower. No longer at home at nights as I have a sick parent who needs my help and my parents are three hours away from where I live. Still, I'll try to keep these coming. (Why does this seem to be a pattern with fic writers?)

WARNING: For those who already read this Chapter on my first posting on 9/12/09, there are several who got the alert but could not find it and sent me messages. I checked the site and this story should have moved up the queu but did not for some reason. It still shows 41 Ch in the summary, although 42 are there. I decided to deleat the chapter and repost it, adding only this bit. This reposting is in an attempt to fix that bit, but I do not know if it will work. I appologize for the inconvenience.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: AFTERMATH

Frank Bryce had enlisted in the British Army in 1940 not long after the fall of France. He was seventeen at the time. By 1942, he found himself as a gunner in a tank in the British Eighth Army in North Africa and already a veteran of a few desperate fights with the German Afrika Corps. At the famed Battle of El Alamein, his tank battalion was assigned to "demonstrate" before the German's main line. Essentially, this meant convincing the Germans they were both going to attack and would be the main attacking force. The real attack took place far to the north as the bulk of the Eight Army bypassed the main German resistance and got into their rear forcing a general retreat.

Early in that battle, not long after the dawn on the first day and following an all night artillery barrage, Frank's unit moved out. His tank was hit by an eighty-eight that had somehow survived the barrage. Frank was the only crewman who survived, but he was severely wounded. The wounds to his leg could never be repaired completely. He was shipped back to Britain where he recovered as much as his wounds would allow and was discharged on medical disability in late 1942. He would walk with a pronounced limp for the rest of his life and the nightmares about his battles never went away.

His injuries and lack of an education prevented Frank from getting what he thought of as a decent job. War industry was booming throughout Britain, yet his leg prevented him from working in the factories and he lacked the skills to work in an office. He needed some work. While he had a pension, it was not much at all. In the spring of 1943, he finally found an advert for a job he probably could do. The War had a devastating effect on gardeners and domestics as there was more money in the plants than on a household staff. Most all able bodied men were either in the factories or in the military. Still, there were always those aristocratic types who had money and wanted to enjoy their comforts. The Riddles were one such family.

He was hired on as a gardener. He did not like the Riddles and they did not seem to like him much at all. Then again, they seemed to look down on everyone. He knew the only reason he got the job was because no one else was available, but it was a job and it paid well and he had always liked gardening. Given his leg, it was arguably the best position he could expect. Being swift was not a job requirement as plants could not run away and there were practically no time sensitive issues that required quick feet.

He never knew how the Riddles became so wealthy, but guessed it was probably some ancestor. The older Riddles clearly had never done and honest day's work in their lives. The younger one, their son, was thirty-eight and was known throughout the area as a playboy. With all England at war, he had neither joined up nor was contributing to war production – unless one considered siring children out of wedlock war production. Still, they left Frank Bryce alone and allowed him to live in a cottage on the grounds rent free. It was a nice quiet life for the twenty-one year old war veteran.

He had barely been on the job a year when it happened. Frank kept to himself mostly. Once a week he would walk slowly down to the Pub in the village of Little Hangleton for a few pints. He seldom said anything to anyone and they left the wounded war veteran alone. Then one day, the Riddles were found dead in their dining room at the Manor by their day maid. Frank had only been in the Manor house once and that was on the day he was hired and he never made it past the foyer. Still, as the quiet and somewhat mysterious outsider the eyes of the entire village and law enforcement fell on him.

There were problems, however, but not for Frank Bryce. First off, the house was always locked. One needed a key to enter at anytime and for now the Riddles were not entertaining. They had not since the War began partly because they had been on the wrong side politically and were now shunned by polite society. The only people who had keys were the maid, cook and the Riddles themselves. From a standpoint of access, the cook was a better suspect because she had been the last person to see the Riddles alive. There was no way Frank could have entered the house without help.

The other problem was that aside from three bodies, there was no evidence of foul play at all. The bodies showed no sign of injury and there was no poison found in either their systems or any of the remaining food or wine. While three healthy people do not ordinarily drop dead for no reason, that was what appeared to have been exactly what had happened.

Then there was the fact that Frank had an alibi. He had spent that evening downing pints at the pub and had left well after the Riddles had supposedly died. The police were left with a suspicious event but no evidence of any crime and no good suspect. The matter was dropped after only a few days, but the people of the village were convinced the young man had something to do with the deaths of his employers.

The estate had kept Frank on as groundskeeper. They let the maid and cook go almost immediately, but Frank stayed on. Later, he also became the caretaker of the now abandoned Manor. The rumors eventually died down, but Frank was never really accepted into the community. He also never really cared. He was quite content with his life.

For years only the hard corps gossips in Little Hangleton continued the debate as to the guilt or innocence of Frank Bryce. Most of the town either chose to ignore the issue or came to believe he was not involved. After all, assuming the Riddles were murdered, a cold bloody killer like that would not have stopped, would he? The matter seemed to have disappeared into local legend.

Then the Fire Brigade was called. A great blaze was reported on the ridge overlooking the town and when the fire fighters responded, they found the abandoned Riddle Manor fully ablaze. It was too far gone to stop and all they could do was keep the blaze from spreading. It took almost twelve hours for the fire to burn itself out and fortunately, aside from some bushes and trees near the house, there was no other damage. But, as with all such fires, the cause was investigated and it was immediately ruled an arson as there was clear evidence of "accelerants." This news hit the Little Hangleton rumor mill only hours after the local constable had reported that seven graves in the Riddle family plot had been plundered – the holes were never filled in and the coffins were missing. No one knew why, although all thought they were somehow connected. One theory that was popular was that the arson was to cover the robbery, but the savvier rejected this as silly. If you wanted to cover the robbery, why leave the graves open?

Immediately, those who remembered the murders in '44 turned their speculation to one Frank Bryce. He lived there all alone after all. Others asked the inevitable "why?" What could be gained? The older residents said that he was clearly 'round the twist which was all the explanation they needed. But what about the graves? Coincidence, of course. No one believed Bryce was in any condition to both dig the holes and remove the coffins on his own. Pouring petrol and tossing a match was another matter altogether. Perhaps he just grew tired of running off the kids who frequented the abandoned Manor either for a place to be alone with a date – a scary date – or to chuck rocks through the windows.

But the Bryce theory hit an immediate snag. Frank Bryce had been admitted to hospital a week earlier after suffering a heart attack at the local market. It turned out that despite the speculation of the gossip queens, he had not left. He had undergone heart surgery and was not due to be released for another week at least. His alibi this time around was even more air tight than the last time. Little Hangleton was left with another mystery for which there was no foreseeable answer.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20th, 1989 – POTTER HOUSE, LONDON, U.K.

The last week had been difficult form Hermione. On the one hand, she understood why they did what they did at Riddle Manor. On the other, it was a crime. Harry and Sirius had tried to explain that it was war, but was it? She had refused to listen but had tried to be as normal as possible provided they did not get into another argument about that night. She knew it was not working as she had hoped. While no one said anything to her, she knew they were all concerned and that try as she might, she was not her usual self.

Harry, Clarice and Rose probably knew Hermione as well as anyone in their somewhat extended family. She liked to work things out for herself, or at least reason them out to a point where she could approach a problem rationally. She was one who preferred detailed planning and plans within plans and contingency plans for the contingency plans to what she considered impulsive behavior or responses. She also preferred to analyze everything to reach the best conclusion. The raid on Riddle Manor violated these two elements of her nature and seemed "unnatural" to her. Intellectually, she knew that things could be over planned and over analyzed and too much brooding over a problem or courses of action could lead to inaction or worse. Sometime, she knew, any action was better than doing nothing, but she did not think that way. She also knew the maxim set forth by Von Moltke that no plan survives first contact with its adversary and therefore being able to improvise and think fast were keys to success as well.

She was a good dueler both with magic and without. She knew that in that context, she did not over think or overanalyze because there was never time to do so. But where there was time, her old habits kicked in and – well that was why she was brooding about that night. Yesterday had been her tenth birthday and her second "real" birthday since Harry and Clarice became a part of her life. She enjoyed it, but not nearly as much as she knew she should have. She was also certain the others had noticed.

This morning, Aunt Minnie had pulled her aside and she was certain she knew it was because of her mood. She had not told anyone who was not there about what they had done. She was certain they would either be as upset as she was or, at the very least, very disappointed in the lot of them and especially Sirius who was now as much a part of her new extended family and as loved as any. She did not want her mood or what they had done to ruin it for everyone. Deep down, the lonely little girl was still there and still afraid that what she had now was just a tease, not a permanent reality. She knew she was not the only one who had these fears. Harry still feared that his "rescue" was only temporary and Clarice still feared losing those she loved. This did not make things any easier for her right now.

To her surprise, Aunt Minnie had nothing to say about her mood.

"You're ten," Minerva said with a smile and Hermione nodded back. "It is now time to learn more of your family, and I don't mean what you already know."

"Excuse me?" This was not what Hermione had expected.

"This is not secret unless you want it to be, but I would not tell just anyone if I were you."

"I don't understand."

Minerva smiled. "You will. As you know, as a magical you have a longer life expectancy than non-magicals…"

Hermione nodded wondering what this was about.

"… but even that varies from family to family. Now, did they teach you about human reproduction in Japan?"

Hermione nodded. "This isn't the 'Talk,' is it?"

"No," Minerva chuckled. "I leave that discussion about the evils of boys to your parents. Anyway, absent unnatural causes – such as war – a witch such as yourself can expect to live well past the age of 100. 130 is not uncommon and about the average, really. Still, we are mortal and there are diseases that can claim us earlier. Likewise, some families tend to live shorter lines. The Blacks, for one, are not known for their longevity – at least not in recent generations. I was born in 1905."

"You don't look that old."

"Thank you," Minerva said. "Actually, I'm technically middle aged for a healthy witch. Now, despite our longer lives, our reproductive years as witches are at best only a little longer than it would be without magic. We have fewer problems with pregnancies and such, but our fertile years are not that extended and as we near the end of our fertile time, pregnancy is not recommended, just as it is not with the non-magical women. Most witches have their all children by the age of 40 if not sooner, just like their non-magical 'sisters.' I had my oldest child when I was 23 and my youngest – your grandmother when I was 30. Your Grandmother's oldest was born when she had just turned 23 and youngest at 29. Your mother was the youngest of my Grandchildren. She was born in 1963. My oldest was born in 1949. You are the youngest of my Great Grandchildren. The oldest was about ten years older than you were. As you also know, you are the only one left of my descendants.

"My parents died in 1969. My mother was 89 and my father 92."

"But…"

"They were murdered by what became known about a year later as the Death Eaters – Voldemort's followers. My McGonagall Grandparents were already dead. Anyway, as witches and wizards can live a long time ordinarily, they also have a longer time to either accumulate or squander wealth. The McGonagall's were a very wealthy family…"

"Were?"

"Still are, actually. When my parents died, my sister, brother and I inherited a third of the estate each. My brother promptly moved his family overseas. When my sister's line was wiped out during the last War, her share was divided between my brother and me, although I'm pretty sure my brother's family's share has not been distributed. But that's neither here nor there. After my sister's family was wiped out, my share of my father's estate was thirty million galleons. Admittedly, this is not nearly as much as what Harry and Clarice or Sirius, for that matter, stand to inherit one day for they are from really old money, still it's not a pittance by any means."

"So this is about being rich?"

"Yes and no. You see … do you know what would have happened if Voldemort had succeeded in wiping out our family?"

Hermione shook her head.

"The law is rather complicated. My brother left the country and took all his money with him. Had Voldemort taken care of the both you and me, my brother would have had sixty days to claim his portion of my sister's share before it became part of my estate and it would pass on according to my will. Now, my will leaves some money for Hogwarts and some for other charities, but the rest is left to my descendants. I would have changed it if… So, had we … well … were I to pass on without no one left behind or designated to inherit, the money would have been split between the Ministry of Magic and each of the members of the Wizengamot. At least a third of those members either were Death Eaters or their supporters. That was one of the ways Voldemort was supporting his war. If there was a line that opposed him, he wiped it out. Now most pureblood lines were split on the war. All he had to do with them was wipe out the opposition to see his supporters enriched and through them his cause. Of course, this policy only applied to wealthier families still…"

"I want you to understand just how bad that war was. If a family had money, any who opposed him were targeted. They killed without mercy and without any discretion. Babies could inherit, so they were killed too. As you know, our line was targeted because we were Founders' Heirs as well – same as the Potters – so we were doubly in danger. Throw into the mix that they wiped out Muggle Borns on principal – and their children and killed and raped muggles both for sport and as part of their initiation rites…"

"That's horrible! Why weren't we taught this?"

Minerva nodded. "The Ministry never let the full horror of that war become general knowledge. All records of that War – the ones that show the full extent of it – were sealed. Your history books do not engage in speculation, but verifiable facts based upon documentary evidence. I would note that the War is still quite ugly even in those texts."

"But not like that!"

"No. Not like that. In 1970, there were about 90,000 magicals in the British Isles according to the Ministry Census. Now that number does not include unregistered Muggle Borns, as in children not yet in magical school. In 1982, that number was a little over 60,000."

"A third were killed?"

"No one knows for certain how many died. Many just disappeared. We know many fled the country and never returned but there is every reason to believe that many were killed and their fate remains unknown. The known death toll was close to 6,000, almost ten percent of the post-War population. When you consider that there might have been 600 Death Eaters, and that number is only and estimate..."

"Why weren't we…?"

"Only two magical people aside from your birth parents knew about you, Hermione. I was one and the midwife for your mother was another. She was killed in a random Death Eater terror attack about a week after you were born. As for myself, I seldom left Hogwarts. I only left to visit you and you were relatively safe as the Death Eaters never gained access to the lists of magical children under eleven living in the Muggle World – thankfully. Even then, your magical birth certificate does not identify your birth parents as you were born to an underage couple at Hogwarts. To our world, you are a Muggle Born of unknown parents adopted by the Grangers. Eventually, and only because the Death Eaters would eventually exterminate or enslave Muggle Borns, they would have come for you. But even had they won, it would not have been until you performed underage magic that required investigation or were scheduled for magical school."

"But what about the wall in the Hall of Records?" Hermione asked. "My name is on it!"

"And what's after the name?"

"The year of my birth."

"In numbers?"

"No. Roman numerals: MCMLXXIX."

"We magicals never adopted roman numerals. We wrote in Runes until around the Eight Century and when we transitioned over to the Roman alphabet, we were already using Arabic numerals. They are far easier to deal with than the older form of numbers. Thus, the vast majority raised in the magical world have no idea what those letters mean. Did you look at Harry and Clarice's parents?"

"Found their Dad. Not his Mum, though."

"What did his Dad's say?"

"James Potter MCMLXMCMLXXXI."

"No space between the years, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"And no middle name? No identification of his parents, right?"

Hermione nodded. "No."

"Is he the only James Potter on the wall?"

"No. There are several others dating back centuries."

"So the only way to tell them apart is to know Roman numerals and know they stand for dates."

Hermione nodded. "Um – so you can't read Roman numerals?"

"I can. It's not easy for me, but I did learn them. Few bother. Your average Death Eater would not because they are considered Muggle writing. Don't ask me why the alphabet is not. You will find many inconsistencies in their espoused philosophy which makes what they did all the more tragic and horrifying."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Two reasons. First off, as I said to our world you – and Clarice for that matter – are considered Muggle Born even though neither of you are."

"Why Clarice? Her name is on the wall as Clarice Potter MCMLXXXI."

"And it's also under Clarice Jameson MCMLXXXI. The wall includes adopted names for some reason, but not married ones. Thus when you were adopted, Hermione Granger appeared and as there are no other Grangers on the wall … are there?"

"No."

"You are seen as a Muggle Born. Clarice Potter is generally believed to have died the night her birth parents were murdered. Only we and her friends know she did not and is now Clarice Jameson. The Pureblood elites did not go away just because Voldemort and his Death Eaters were apparently defeated. They still exist and the prejudice remains beneath the surface of our society. Not all purebloods are that way, but the ones who are … Despite my efforts and the efforts of other faculty at Hogwarts, some of the children of Death Eaters and supporters continue to be mean to Muggle Borns and espouse the blood hatreds."

"So?" Hermione said. "You think some students will scare me or Clarice? I'll be years and years beyond any of them by the time we are supposed to go, at least any who we did not train. And the ones we are training have to survive Watanabe which does not tolerate that rubbish at all."

"That's not the point."

"What is the point then?"

"The War is not over, Hermione. Voldemort is gone for the moment but we know he's trying to come back. But more important, the ideas, fears and hatreds that gave rise to Voldemort have not died and will come back whether he does or not. The next generation of blood bigots and future Death Eaters is already in school. Scores of little bigots are waiting for their chance to carry on. And let's not forget the last crop of murderers. They may have been defeated, but they never surrendered. Should Voldemort or another Dark Lord arise to lead them to their view of the world, they will rally to him. It won't be like last time. It took Voldemort decades to lash out at the world. It took him decades to build his following and turn them into ruthless killers. He will have those people waiting for him. It will be worse than last time.

"And our people will once again be caught by surprise and it will take time for them to recognize the threat and then begin to deal with it," Minerva continued. "It won't matter who the Minister is, the Wizengamot and Department Heads will not believe what is happening and will not shift over to a war footing for some time. We know that is what happened in Sensei's time and we have no reason to believe it won't happen this time. That means Voldemort will start his new War with a force of trained killers against a population and government taught that it is evil to kill. Basically, he will start with the War all but won unless…"

"Unless?"

"Unless there are some in this country who are trained in the Art of War and in what War means," Robert Granger said entering the room.

Hermione jumped. She had not expected her Dad to be listening.

"War is about killing the enemy," Robert Granger said. "There is no other way about it. It's about hurting people and breaking their toys. Von Clausewitz wrote that war is diplomacy by other means. Sun Tzu saw no distinction between war and diplomacy as both existed for the protection of the realm and were merely tools in the sovereign's arsenal. The use of diplomacy could aid in war and war could aid in diplomacy. But the bottom line is that the rules of a peaceful society do not exist on the battlefield where it is the warrior's job to destroy the enemy's ability to fight and take ground and hold it.

"You should not worry yourself over what happened last week, Sweetie."

"You knew?" Hermione asked in shock.

"Sirius told us about a week ago."

"And you approve?"

Robert nodded. "It was no more immoral than the two horcruxes you've destroyed."

They had destroyed the horcrux that was Slytherin's locket the day they got back from their first mission. They had not seen what had happened to the ring. They had never opened the box it was in deciding not to deal with the remaining two curses if Li Huan's spell worked and it had. It was not like Sensei had described. The locket was not physically damaged at all. But the dark magic that made it a horcrux and bound Voldemort's soul fragment to the earth had been destroyed and without that magic, the soul fragment could not survive. The heirloom of Salazar Slytherin freed of both magic and soul had been returned to the Vault.

"I don't understand. We desecrated graves! We burned down a house!"

"You removed powerful weapons from Voldemort's arsenal," Robert said. "Those graves contained keys to bring him back sooner rather than later. That house had been a stronghold of his in Sensei's time and undoubtedly would be this time."

"But we're not at war!"

"And why do you say that?"

"Cause there's no fighting…" Hermione's voice trailed off.

"The enemy never surrendered. Their ideas never died and still thrive. So long as that is the case, you are as much at War in your world as Her Majesty's Government is at War in Northern Ireland. If you wait for the formalities, it may be too late. It will certainly mean that victory should it come will be far more costly than otherwise."

"Next you'll be saying we will have to kill people," Hermione said. Her resolve was faltering, but her penchant for playing Devil's Advocate had not.

Robert nodded. "In some cases maybe. We already know that there will be a professor at Hogwarts who must die to prevent Voldemort from returning early. Sensei has not told us who that is just in case the timeline changes and the pre-emptive strike is rendered unnecessary. But if the timeline continues unchanged in that regard, the professor must die. If taking a life today saves thousands a few years from now, that killing is justified and is in the best interests of this country. You know I was S.A.S., right?"

Hermione nodded.

"I can't tell you a lot about what I did. I can tell you I killed people who were potential threats to this country and at no time were we at war with them or their countries. Many of our ops killed people, but we believe they prevented wars and therefore prevented far more people from having to die. To be the warrior, you must accept as a given that even in perceived times of peace, there will be people who must die to preserve the best interests of your country, your people, your beliefs and Her Majesty's government. What you lot did last week while 'illegal' in the strictest sense of the word, was necessary and in the best interests of both of our worlds, Hermione."

"So I shouldn't question…" she began.

"On the contrary! You should. What separates us from the Death Eaters is we do question. We know it is technically immoral and maybe illegal. The acts must be balanced against the threat and the potential consequences of inaction. So long as we retain our humanity, we can never be like those you are fighting against. They have no moral center. They do not question their actions and they kill for no reason other than because they can. They kill innocents for terror. I killed threats – and one day so might you. So long as the enemy has the means and will to fight and stands to do so, they are to be killed. They are to be killed because left alive they will continue to kill."

Hermione sat and thought for what seemed like a long time. "Do you feel guilty, Daddy?"

"For what?"

"For what you did in the Army?"

"No. I may not have liked it, but I knew what could well happen if we did not do it. Never let an enemy gain strength when you can weaken him. That's what we did, assuming we could not destroy them."

"But Harry just went and did it," Hermione said after some thought. "He just came up with the idea and the others followed."

"Don't be so sure," a third voice said. Hermione saw Sirius had entered the room. "Harry and Clarice came to me with this idea the day after Sensei told us about the second horcrux, Riddle Manor and the resurrection ritual. We discussed the pros and cons for days. All Harry did was acknowledge to us that we had achieved our primary objective – destroying the Horcrux – and we had time to try for the secondary…"

"Why didn't they say anything to me?"

"You were busy organizing things for that expanded club of yours," Sirius replied. "They helped, but that was mostly your doing and they didn't want to distract you."

"Rubbish!"

"Actually, it was part of their reasoning. The other was that you would raise the very same objections and they felt you might take more convincing than they did. They really did not want the philosophical debate."

"I thought they trusted me," Hermione whimpered.

"They do," Sirius said. "And Harry told me he was sure that if you objected, he would have sided with you."

"I did!"

"After the decision was made. I told them to keep quiet for the time being, Hermione. If you're going to be upset at anyone, let it be me."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because you – because … Deep down, you are a very moral person, Hermione. Your morals formed in peace do not fit squarely in war. Some people can accept this dichotomy with ease, others need it shown to them or forced upon them. If they told you two weeks ago, you would have fought to stop them. As you said earlier, it is peacetime. Unfortunately, they understood that if we waited for war it would already be too late.

"Was it truly necessary to burn Riddle Manor? Debatable even now. We denied the enemy a base of operations. The main reason for it was to ensure a fire hot enough and vigorous enough to cremate the remains. This needed loads of fuel and that house and loads of fuel in it. Torching it created a bonfire. If there was another way to destroy the bones, we didn't think of it. … Well, we did, but Fiendfyre was out of the question. Banishing, vanishing and transfiguring them would not destroy them. They could be recovered and then be used by a skilled and brilliant wizard and anyone who thinks Voldemort is an idiot is a fool. The bones had to be physically and totally destroyed and fire is most effective at that. Destroying Voldemort's future base was an added bonus.

"Allowing the bones to remain would give Voldemort access to the Resurrection Ritual. It is both one of the easiest ways for him to come back and one that can be done as many times as necessary provided so much as a single bone fragment remains intact. Moreover, it is the only ritual that requires the blood of an enemy. Voldemort does not yet know about the blood protections on Harry. He does not yet know that without Harry's blood merely touching the boy would destroy whatever body he inhabits or creates for himself. He might never find out, but should we take that chance? Should we encourage the bastard to plot to kidnap Harry for such protections? Should we give Voldemort a free shot at killing Harry as happened to Sensei in his own timeline?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No we should not," Sirius said. "We removed one of the ways he could return. There are others, but that one placed Harry at risk. Wouldn't you say it was worth it?"

Reluctantly Hermione nodded.

"The reason we destroyed the horcruxes is to see to the eventual defeat of Voldemort and his cause. The reason for the graves and Riddle Manor, while it also aides in that cause, was to protect Harry. Remember, Voldemort is going to go after Harry any chance he can get. We need to eliminate those chances now while he's believed to be dead. Once he comes back, it will be much more difficult to keep Harry safe until we are ready to deal with the evil git once and for all."

"Why doesn't he trust me?" she whimpered.

"Harry trusts you more than anyone," Sirius replied. "If I had told him it was in his best interest to destroy those old bones and you had told him not to, even if you never gave his a reason, he would listen to you. He will always listen to you, Hermione. In many ways, you are his conscience and moral center. But there are times when doing what seems right at this time is the wrong thing to do in the long term."

"But I told him not to!"

"No, you said you didn't think it was a good idea. Luna and Neville sided with me and Harry and you let it drop. Had you said don't do it, Harry probably would have changed his mind. Because he trusts you so much and relies on you as he does, you need to make sure you are right for the right reasons. If he is right and you are wrong and tell him not to do what he believes is right, he will listen to you. He might not like it, but he will. Therefore, be certain. Know all the facts you can and consider the potential consequences. That way, you can be a conscience that does the most good by him and the most good for all."

"Hermione?" Minerva said. "Do you know the purpose of what we discussed?"

"I should think less?" Hermione asked.

Minerva shook her head. "No my daughter. No. Today is the tenth anniversary of your birth. But you are not ten, are you?"

Hermione gasped. "I'm eighteen?"

Minerva nodded. "It's time to start to think like the adult that you are becoming, my daughter, at least about some things."

"Not boys," Robert Granger chided. "I don't want you that grown up yet."

"As an adult, things are not black and white," Minerva finished.

Hermione nodded. They had given her a lot to think about. She decided she would not call Harry out for this one. She had had her chance. But more important, she did not want to damage their friendship over a situation where both of them could be right and both could be wrong.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 21st, 1989 – THE ROOKERY, OTTERY ST. CATCHPOLE, DEVON, U.K.

Hermione sat watching now nine year old Luna Lovegood opening her many birthday presents although she was not really paying attention. She was not thinking about the conversation she had with Aunt Minnie, her Dad and Sirius the night before. She was remembering the conversation she had with Harry and Clarice that morning before they left for the party.

"We should tell her," Hermione said.

"Tell who what?" Clarice replied.

"We should tell Luna what Sensei told us about her Mum."

"I don't know," Harry said. "I mean he really didn't tell us much at all, did he?"

"He could not even tell him when it happens," Clarice added.

"I know," Hermione said. "Still, she's our friend. We can't keep this from her. We are not much of a friend if we keep secrets from each other." This was the closest she would ever come to berating Harry for not including her in the planning regarding Riddle Manor. She noted Harry seemed to shrink a bit.

"When?" Harry asked.

"Today," Hermione replied.

"What a way to spoil a birthday," Clarice said. "Happy Birthday Luna! Oh, by the way, your Mum is going to die in a spell crafting accident this year."

"That's not what I mean…" Hermione began.

"Then what do you mean, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"First off, you're right," Hermione said. "We really don't know much about what happened in Sensei's timeline because he does not know much. He told us Luna was nine. A spell her Mum was working on went 'horribly wrong,' apparently those were that Luna's words. She was there when it happened and saw her Mum die. As open as that Luna was, it was the only time she mentioned that. Sensei also described that Luna and she was very different than ours."

"So?" Clarice asked.

"So," Hermione said, "I think that Luna felt she was somehow responsible for her Mum's dying."

"You mean she caused the accident?" Harry asked.

"No. No, I don't. That Luna was nine and knew no magic or very little. Certainly that girl did not know as much magic as our Luna does. That Luna did not even have a wand. But raised magical, she may well know what could have been done by a witch with a wand and the knowledge of how to use one."

"What are you saying?"

"I think that Luna knew that had she had a wand and knew the right magic, she could have saved her Mum's life. Instead she watched helplessly as her Mum died."

"I think Hermione's right," Clarice said in a very soft voice. "I couldn't save my Mum. I still have nightmares about that."

"There was nothing you could have done, Sissy," Harry said soothingly.

"I know. But what if there was and I couldn't do it or didn't know how? Yes, I think that's it. Luna's Mum could have been saved had Luna known magic and had a wand and the poor girl knew it."

"So we tell Luna and her Mum?" Harry said after a long pause.

"Not Jasmine," Hermione said. "No idea what that might do. She might decide not to spell craft with Luna around and…"

"And die anyway," Harry nodded in agreement. "Why today?"

"We don't know when this is likely to happen. Might not be for months and months. It might well be tomorrow. She needs to be ready."

"And so should we," Harry added.

"What do you mean?" Clarice asked.

"We tell Luna what Sensei told us. We tell her what Hermione thinks it means. We also tell her we'll be there for her. All she needs to do is send her Patronus and we'll come running!"

The two girls nodded in agreement.

Hermione knew this would not be easy. The three had agreed that they would be the last of the party goers to leave so that they could talk to Luna. But, if this saved Jasmine's life one day, it was worth it. And if not – well at least they would be there for Luna in any event.

A/N: (1) Yes, the Ring is no longer a Horcrux and is undamaged physically. (2) Yes, they never saw it. (3) Yes, it is still buried in the Gaunt House.

WHY?

I have not decided if the Hallows are going to play a roll in this fic at all.

AND/OR If Harry has the Ring, Dumbledore can get it eventually. Right now, Dumbledore has two of the Hallows. It would not be good if he got all three. So, IF Hallows do come in, no Ring until Harry gets his father's cloak back.

P.S. "AFRIKA" is spelled right. In histories, it is the German Spelling, not English for Rommel's Panzer troops.