[A/N: Part 3 of Chapter 10]
Saturday, 25 December 1992 – Christmas
Mary
The days between Yule and Christmas were far more solemn and thoughtful than any professors, and, if pressed, any of the students, had expected, given that between the Weasleys and Morgana's Slytherins, there were nearly as many pranksters in residence as student targets. All five troublemakers, however, seemed to be thinking as hard about the other lives they had lived as Mary, Lilian, and Hermione. The Ravenclaw had refused to tell the Slytherins what her other world had been like, aside from, "I met Malfoy in Diagon Alley, and he told me Muggleborns weren't welcome in Slytherin. So I convinced the Hat to put me in Slytherin. It… wasn't pretty." But she had been sitting up in the Ravenclaw common room, just like they had downstairs, and had been glad enough of their company.
The only people seemingly not affected by what they had seen – including the professors – were Blaise, who was always perfectly inscrutable when he wanted to be, and Draco, who was as much a prat as ever. Even Theo was different – more reverent, Mary thought. On Christmas Eve, Draco, true to form, decided to taunt Mary over the holiday password to the Slytherin common room. The seventh-year prefects had set it to 'pureblood' before they left, in reference to the now-simmering (but not open) disagreement within the House about their founder's heritage. The argument ended with Mary shrieking that Malfoy must have been dropped on his head as a child, summoning a snake in that dueling club meeting. At that, Lilian had dragged Mary from the room, before her friend could actually hex the twerp. As she said, it wasn't that he didn't deserve it, but she didn't want to ruin Christmas over him.
Little did Lilian know, Christmas would be ruined by an entirely other person.
It started off well enough – spectacular, actually. Mary woke at her usual time – much earlier than almost anyone who wasn't on the Slytherin Quidditch team – to find a stack of gifts, rather larger than the year before.
Hermione, limited to owl-order this year like Mary, had gotten her one of the lightweight, indoor scarves that had become terribly popular in the Castle over the past two months. It was green with a silver border and little silver tassels on the ends. Mary, who had asked Aerin to scope out what Hermione was planning to get, had reciprocated with the same scarf in blue and silver. She was fairly certain that Lilian had ordered the Ravenclaw a history of wizarding etiquette that she had had her eye on since summer, and had told the older girl to send the bold Slytherin muggle mystery novels, the cheaper and trashier the better. This meant that Mary was free to send Lilian a scarf matching hers and Hermione's, in bright autumn colors, which she thought would look nice with the older girl's hair. Lilian had gotten Mary a book on glamours and appearance charms. Her note said one of her aunts had given her a copy the year before, and promised a makeover party before the end of the holiday.
Aerin, the twins, and the three other Slytherin members of their conspiracy had sent small parcels of candy and chocolate, as had the other members of the Quidditch team. Mary had anticipated this (thanks to Aerin's warning on the subject) and had sent similar packages to all of them. Cammy, Podley, and the Hogwarts elves had been left cards, just as she had done the year previous.
The elder Grangers, once again, had sent a package of muggle clothing – denims and jumpers. Hermione had to be casting sizing charms on her from behind or something, Mary decided, because these looked like they would fit just as well as the last set had, with a bit of room to grow over the coming months. Mary had been expecting it this time, and had arranged for a magical fruit basket to be delivered to their home, along with a book on all the magical fruits that would be included and how to prepare them: dirigible plums sounded delightful, but tricky to eat. The Grangers' note, just wishing her a happy holiday, drew out another little stab of guilt over the fact that they still didn't know about the attacks, but she pushed it aside, pulling one of the new jumpers – soft and black – over her wizarding shirtwaist and skirt.
The Professor, too, had sent another practical gift, though Mary did not recognize it as such at first. It was a delicate necklace: a silver chain with a bright green stone. The stone was set in silver, and the back of the pendant had tiny runes etched into it. The note explained that the stone was a peridot, and the setting would draw in ambient magic, and protect or heal the wearer from minor curses. Crystal magic, Professor McGonagall had written, was one of the most wide-spread applications of alchemy, and if Mary was interested, she would be pleased to discuss it further when they met for Christmas tea. For all Mary had been involved with the Philosopher's Stone debacle the previous year, she really had little idea what alchemy entailed, so she was very excited at the prospect. She had arranged for the Professor to be sent a Night-Blooming Selas plant, which Catherine had told her was 'Aunt Minnie's' favorite. It was easily the most expensive gift she had ordered – apparently Selas was like the ornery cat of flowers – nearly impossible to tame and cultivate, with a mind of its own. She hoped it arrived safely.
Catherine herself had sent a small collection of everyday jewelry, mostly bracelets and earrings. Proper rings weren't allowed in Potions, and robes made it difficult to see necklaces. Mary had seen her yearmates wearing similar things, but would never have thought to buy any such fripperies for herself. She made a note to ask Lilian to pierce her ears at their makeover party. Her favorite piece was a silver cuff of chain links that reminded her of scales. The note said that the elder Urquharts frowned on the celebration of Christmas, but they had no problem with an exchange of gifts for Yule, so her apologies for the 'tardiness' of the gift. Mary giggled aloud at this, imagining the older girl's subtle tone of amusement at her grandparents' nod toward progressives and maintenance of their firm traditionalist stance. Mary had sent Catherine the journal of an Italian lady adventurer from the turn of the century. She had gotten it enchanted to read the passages aloud, which, as she explained in her note, she hoped would help her friend with her studies of the language. She had also wished the older girl glad tidings for the recent holiday, but, knowing her family, had neglected to say which holiday, and had not even implied that the gift was related to the holiday at all. She thought Catherine would be pleased by her tactfulness.
Mary's last gift was a tiny, neatly wrapped box, from Remus Lupin. She opened it excitedly and found it contained… a key. It looked like an ordinary skeleton key – the sort that would open most of the doors in the castle, if they hadn't been spelled shut, rather than locked most of the time. She set it aside and turned to his note, looking for an explanation. She was not disappointed.
The unassuming skeleton key was apparently enchanted to open any lock and undo basic wards without leaving a magical signature behind. It was based on a mythical Artifact of the Chaotic Power called Kuma Lisa's Key. The mythical version could undo any ward, and could lock everything up again behind a worthy mischief-maker. Much like invisibility cloaks, which were based on Death's Cloak in the Tale of Three Brothers, clever enchanters had done their best throughout the nineteenth century to replicate the effects of the Key. The result was the magical lockpick now known as a Lupin's Best Friend (referring to a famous French wizard recognized by the muggle world as a gentleman thief). They had been all the rage among the criminal classes of Europe and Asia in the 1890s, but wardcrafters had quickly adjusted to their limitations, and they had fallen out of style in the magical world by the early 1900s. Most wards were now too complex for the key to pick, but Remus had won this one in the Ukraine in a card game, and thought the next generation Marauder might find a use for it. If nothing else, it was a fascinating curiosity, and a nifty little piece of enchanting. The chocolate fancy (an animated sculpture of a dragon, like the ones the students had destroyed at the Halloween feast) that Mary had bribed the elves into making for the Last Marauder paled in comparison.
The most exciting part of Remus' note, however, was not the explanation of her gift or the mention of another Artifact of the Powers (which sounded fascinating, really, even if they were terribly dangerous, like the Mirror of Erised or the Deathstick). It was the tiny (and she was sure intentionally short) post script, which read, simply, "Your headmaster is always looking for new DADA professors, and has offered me the position for next year. I am inclined to take him up on it. – Moony." Her squeal of excitement was so loud it brought Lilian and Millicent to knock on her door in concern.
After reassuring the other Slytherins that she was fine, and had only received exceedingly good news (and sharing her expectations that they would have a decent DADA professor next year, which caused even the ever-repressed Millie to crack a smile), the three girls joined the remainder of their house for a late breakfast. The afternoon was spent in the common room, cheerfully writing thank-you notes with the other Slytherins, and before Mary knew it, it was time for tea.
Dumbledore
One of Albus Dumbledore's few indulgences in life, or so he liked to think, was a long-standing habit of sleeping in on Christmas. He woke, quite coincidentally, at the same time as Mary Potter, many stories below, and quickly dealt with the Christmas gifts from his close friends and acquaintances, setting those from admirers and former students (and who wasn't a former student, after nearly sixty years of teaching?) aside to be addressed later.
He was pleased to find that Alastor Moody had remembered him, sending a very nice pocket foe glass, and young Remus Lupin had sent a collection of muggle sweets, along with a timely response agreeing to take on the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor for the coming year – truly the best Christmas present he had been given in quite some time, to have that perennial thorn in his side sorted out so far ahead of the deadline. Minerva, who still had not forgiven him for leaving Mary Potter with her aunt, nor for the Philosopher's Stone incident the year before, had sent him very plain, though serviceable, knitted wool socks. Everyone else who knew him at all sent books or enchanted knickknacks to add to the collection of whirring, chiming chaos which he kept in his office for the amusement of himself and the current students (and the irritation of Severus, Minerva, and Aurora).
He habitually took lunch with his brother on Christmas, despite their mutual loathing of each other's company. On Albus' part, his presence was compelled by an old promise to the one girl he had ever cared for – his long-dead sister Ariana. He didn't know why Abe kept their annual appointment. It only ever ended miserably. Though he hated to admit it, Albus was, more often than not, the one whose temper got the best of him. He had stormed out of Abe's pub the last four years running.
On the way out of the Castle, he stopped at his deputy's quarters. Irritated with him or not, she still needed to be informed that he would be outside the wards for the afternoon, and that she was therefore in charge of the affairs of the Castle in his absence. Not that he expected anything untoward to occur on a Christmas afternoon, but nevertheless… To his surprise and gratification, Minerva let slip that she had no plans until tea, when her ward would be coming to visit. She quite obviously had not intended this as anything other than an assurance that she would be able to keep an eye on things while he was out, but he took the opportunity to invite himself to their little tête-à- tête, and pretended not to comprehend her strong hints that his presence would be unwelcome.
There was a spring in his step as he made his way down to the Apparition point. Who knew, with the prospect of bringing Mary Potter around to his side later in the evening, perhaps he would manage to make Aberforth lose his cool for once.
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Damn him! Albus thought as he stalked back up the path from the gates to the Castle. Even when Albus was in what he considered an unshakeable good mood, his younger brother had a way of getting under his skin. The elder Dumbledore had left in a huff after the (slightly) younger man implied that he had somehow coerced his phoenix into staying with him. The insult had no substance, of course. One could not induce a phoenix to stay with anyone it did not choose, and they would not bond to anyone who was less than confident of their own inherent goodness. Yes, Albus had made mistakes in his time, but he had never intentionally led anyone from the path of righteousness, and everything he had ever done, even after he and Gellert parted ways, was for the Greater Good. But to think his own brother thought so little of him…
Well, there was always tea with Minerva and the little Potter girl to look forward to.
Albus planned to arrive at Minerva's office slightly late. He had gotten the impression from little Mary that she did not appreciate his company when he had skimmed the surface of her mind after that nasty attack on the Finch-Fletchley boy and Sir Nicholas. I wouldn't tell him if I did know anything, indeed. He had to wonder what the Slytherins had been telling her, that she had such a poor opinion of him. She had been avoiding his gaze since, so at the very least that Moon chit must have told her about Legilimency. She would be wary. Thus, he thought it would be better if he arrived after she was already settled, and could not politely excuse herself. If he could just get her to relax and open up to him, he was sure she could be convinced that it was the right thing to do, lending her public support to his political cause.
The plan started to go awry almost at once, as the girl nearly ran him down at the door to Minerva's office.
"Oh!" he said, hiding his annoyance, "I see I'm not the only one running a bit late today! Merry Christmas, Mary, my dear!"
"Headmaster! I'm so sorry," she said, looking down in apparent shame. "I wasn't looking where I was going. Happy Christmas. Erm, begging your pardon, but I was running late for tea with Professor McGonagall…"
"Well, then," he replied, all grandfatherly smiles, "after you." He opened the door. "I just had a few things to discuss with Minerva myself. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
"Oh! Albus!" The Scotswoman exclaimed, hastily tucking her wand back into its holster. Albus smiled to see that her reflexes were still sharp. "I'm afraid I wasn't expecting you to just let yourself in. Happy Christmas, Mary," she called to the girl, still waiting politely in the hall. "Do come in!"
"Happy Christmas, Professor," the girl said, keeping her voice low and polite.
Minerva ushered her to the sitting area, and Albus followed, uninvited.
"Albus, what was it that you wished to speak to me about?" Minerva asked rather coldly. "I do recall informing you I had plans this afternoon."
This was unanticipated. He could not simply allow the woman to attempt to deal with him and then dismiss him. Ah! That would do nicely. "It's about the Defense position, Minerva," he began, and was met with a very stern gaze.
"Surely, Albus, such problems may wait until after Christmas Tea to be dealt with?" the witch said in an exasperated tone.
Albus turned his charm up to eleven. "Not a problem, Minerva – not a problem at all! In fact, I have received very good news which might as such be considered a solution to the problem, at least for the coming year."
"Albus. I have a guest. A student guest. Could we not discuss staffing this evening, or even tomorrow? It's not exactly urgent at the moment, is it?"
"Ah, but I do believe your young guest will find this particular bit of information both relevant and a pleasant surprise! For Christmas, as it were."
"Oh, fine," the professor huffed. She turned to the girl. "Miss Mary, do you mind if we are joined by another for tea?"
In an instant, the overly-excited and rushed twelve-year-old who had nearly collided with him in the corridor and stared blatantly at the adult conversation played out before her was replaced by a properly respectful, well-bred young lady. She straightened her posture, crossing her ankles and tucking them behind the leg of her chair, and spoke in a carefully modulated tone which gave away nothing of her true feelings. He was reminded strongly of the young Narcissa Black, whose company that old boy Horace had forced upon him with his ridiculous Holiday parties from her very first year. Of course, with the black curls, funereal clothing – who wore black and white on Christmas? – and thin, pointed face, she looked more like Bellatrix – bad luck, that. She had clearly taken after James, and James after Dorea. But there had always been a glimmer of calculating madness in Bellatrix's eyes. No, this Mary Potter was more like Narcissa – polite, distant and very, very cold – in short, the image of a well-trained pureblood princess.
"Of course not, Professor. Headmaster Dumbledore, sir, be welcome at our table." She gestured toward a seat.
"Thank you, my dear, and may I say, it looks like a fine repast indeed!" The elves had provided not only tea and biscuits, but a large selection of sandwiches, toasts, and spreads. He had only just come from lunch, and it was still enticing.
The adults settled themselves, and Minerva allowed Mary to pour. Albus was, by turns, impressed by how well the girl seemed to have mastered the pureblood dance of propriety, and dismayed that she had managed it so quickly – surely not even the Slytherins were so well-behaved in their own common room! His mother had always felt, and he agreed, that it was unnatural to see a child so composed.
They made small talk over the sandwiches, discussing Christmas gifts and exchanging their thanks. Albus raised an eyebrow when Minerva showed off the Selas plant, a climbing vine with tiny reddish, bell-like flowers which opened at night. It was an impressive gift for a second-year, even one who had the Potter vaults at her disposal. He wondered if the girl knew how rare such a thing truly was. Probably not, he decided, and made a mental note to get back in Minerva's good graces – one never knew when a bit of Selas nectar would come in handy. If she did know the value of the gift, she said nothing – murmuring only that she was pleased it had arrived safely, and that Minerva was pleased with the gift, before thanking the woman for the silver and peridot necklace she was wearing over her collared shirtwaist and black muggle jumper. Even Albus had to admit, it matched her eyes startlingly well, and added an adult touch to the girl's otherwise childish (albeit somber) outfit. Albus pretended that nice, warm, woolen socks were the one thing he was always lacking at Christmas. He did not think either of the ladies appreciated his humor.
Mary poured a second cup of tea for each of them before Albus finally released the bit of information which had gotten him into the little party in the first place. Minerva was suitably relieved to hear that the Lupin boy had agreed to return as the next sacrifice to the curse on the DADA position. Given his occupation over the past ten years, he might even survive it, though he had, of course, only agreed to the one year, and only if Albus could somehow supply the Wolfsbane potion to control his transformations. Apparently he was less willing to risk the safety of the students today than he had been to risk the safety of his peers twenty years before, but then, Albus could not truly fault the man for having grown up a bit. He would make it happen. If nothing else, Severus could be persuaded to just brew the damn thing. Mary, on the other hand, showed no reaction at all. After several minutes' discussion between Albus and Minerva, she admitted that she had already had the news from Lupin himself, but congratulated him on finally managing to find a suitable candidate to fill the position. That neither Quirrell nor Lockhart were suitable, in her opinion, was only implied, but Minerva seemed to find it highly amusing.
Albus waited through nearly two hours of stilted, structured, overly-polite conversation about classes and second-year adventures, and the dreadful attacks, and three cups of tea trying to find the right moment to propose that the girl ought to begin to accompany him on political appearances. He did not find such an opening. Minerva announced at six that she should like to adjourn to the Great Hall for the sake of appearances, even if she had eaten far too many sandwiches to warrant dinner, and the dratted girl agreed at once.
Faced with the prospect of losing what might be his best chance to convince the girl to take her proper place as a political symbol at his side, Albus decided to take his best shot.
"I have been wondering, my dear, whether you might like to accompany me to the first Wizengamot meeting of the year," he proposed, just as the girl was about to offer her farewells.
"Whyever should you offer such a thing, Headmaster?" she asked smoothly, looking at his face, but not meeting his eyes.
"Well, my girl, it would be a most excellent opportunity for you, I should think, to see how the process of government works in our fair state," he said with his sincerest smile, thinking to appeal to the Slytherin selfishness she must possess.
"You misunderstand me, sir," the girl said, with a tiny smile of her own. It grew suddenly vicious as she asked, "What's in it for you?"
"Ah, that is…" Albus faltered in the face of such a reaction. "As an educator, it is my duty to –"
"No, sir," she interrupted firmly, "my education as the Heir of House Potter is none of your business. I am certain that should my guardian or my foster family deem it necessary, I will attend one of the summer sessions. But I will not trail along behind you and be presented as some trophy-piece or political bargaining chip firmly in the pocket of the Light. Professor, Headmaster, good day." And with that the young aristocrat swept out.
Minerva glared at Albus, and motioned the door closed with her wand before taking him to task over his actions. He arranged his features to look contrite, while internally he simply sighed. The day had started off with such potential. Humbug.
Tuesday, 5 January 1993 Hogwarts
Mary spent the week after Christmas first in irritation with Dumbledore for interrupting her visit with the Professor and making her act all proper on the holiday, and then in confusion over what exactly he had been trying to accomplish. She had shut him down and refused to trail along behind him in public mostly because she didn't like him. She had no idea whether he really wanted to use her politically or not – he wasn't a Slytherin after all. If Lucius Malfoy had made the same offer, she was sure that would have been his motivation. In any case, she hoped that she had offended the old man sufficiently that he would leave her alone.
Professor McGonagall had rescheduled their tea for New Year's Day. She had apologized profusely for allowing the Headmaster to interrupt their Christmas tea and congratulated Mary on her behavior. She said Catherine could not have done any better, which was the best compliment Mary could remember getting in a very long time. They had finally gotten to discuss crystal magic, which Mary thought was fascinating, and it was, on the whole, the most pleasant, least formal interaction she had had with the Professor since the previous Christmas. She had even been invited to call the Professor 'Aunt Minnie' in private, just like the younger Urquharts.
The third of January was Lilian's birthday. Aerin, Mary, and Hermione performed the thirteenth birthday ritual for her just as she had helped perform it for Hermione, but first thing in the morning, since there were no classes. Lilian, who had been introduced to magic before, was not nearly as overwhelmed as the Ravenclaw had been. Afterward, all the girls who had chosen to stay in the Castle had been invited to hole up in a deserted classroom and spend the day eating sweets, practicing different beauty spells on each other, and playing dress-up with glamour charms.
The little blonde waif from Ravenclaw did not attend, nor did Ginny Weasley. The other Ravenclaws explained that their housemate was quite mad, and had told them she would be hunting some made-up creature when they had asked her to attend, and no one had managed to catch the Gryffindor to ask her at all. The twins had said that she was spending most of her time up in her room or out wandering the castle. They thought that she had gotten used to being alone the previous year, when she was the only child at home, and advised the other girls that if she wanted to spend time with them, she wasn't so shy that she wouldn't seek them out. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws had essentially shrugged, and went on with the party without them.
Mary had never had a 'girls' day' before, and she found she enjoyed it immensely. Chances to act like a 'normal' almost-teenage girl and forget that most of the school thought she was out to kill them all were few and far between.
Morgana ended up piercing Mary's ears for her (which hurt far less than she had been expecting), and after about ten different hair charms from all of the older girls, Hermione developed perfectly-tamed ringlet curls. Aerin and Mallory Prince – the fifth-year Ravenclaw prefect who had stayed behind – had used a series of subtle charms on Lilian and Millicent. Mary thought they could pass for sixteen by the time they were done, and Millicent looked much more confident and outgoing with a bit pink in her cheeks and darker eyelashes. Professors Vector and Sinistra poked their heads into the party a couple of times to make sure they weren't getting into too much trouble, and make jokes about the boys not knowing what hit them come dinnertime.
Fred, George, Adrian, and Perry made an alliance to try to prank the girls that afternoon, but thanks to Mallory and Morgana's quick shield spells, they failed miserably. One of the twins (whichever one was going by Gred that day) was captured in the attack. In addition to being turned bright green by the boys' reflected charms, he was given a very girly makeover, complete with a hair-extension spell and glamours that mimicked eyeshadow and lipstick. To top it off, they had dressed him in one of Mallory's spare robes. If Mary had to guess, she thought that the appearance of the Weasley twin at dinner was more shocking than the girls' makeovers, though Hermione's well-behaved hair might have come close. Even Professor Snape gave them a smirk which held a hint of real amusement.
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Two days later, the Conspiracy reconvened in an altogether more serious mood. The Veritaserum (and its antidote) were complete. Hermione and the twins had done everything they could think of to test that it had been done correctly except actually try it on each other. That, they had decided, the entire group deserved to witness.
The twins, outside of the playful attack on Lilian's party, had refrained, for the most part, from any kind of mischief over the holiday. Instead, they had spent most of their days since Yule outside, constructing an enormous, magically reinforced snow-fort. With less than twenty students in the castle (and four of those Slytherins who would never consider joining the Weasleys in their antics), they weren't able to maintain the previous year's schedule of constant snow-battles; they were simply building it to have something to do. When Hermione had suggested that they test the Veritaserum at the Fort, they had carved an extra set of secrecy and protection runes into the walls, so that neither of their siblings or the half-dozen other non-conspirators in the castle could eavesdrop. Then, taking their preparations fully into the realm of paranoia in Mary's mind, they had set up a perimeter ward, which would alert them if anyone, including a professor, came within a hundred yards of the structure.
The older Slytherins, for once agreeing with their rival pranksters, had argued that they couldn't be too paranoid – Veritaserum, even the most basic version that they had brewed, was a controlled substance, and their plan was… morally ambiguous, at best. It was, Perry pointed out rather snidely, a good thing that Professor Snape had already completed his questioning of the Slytherins, because he would have sussed out what they were doing in a trice, if he legilimized them after they began their interrogations.
Hermione brought out the flask of the completed potion, settling it onto a snow-bench with reverence before reviewing its specifics for the others. The potion was completely undetectable both while active, and after administration. It was odorless, colorless, and left no magical trace. There were variations which were meant to be mixed into other liquids, and one which could overcome the antidote to the basic version (though that was detectable after the fact), but for this, the most basic version, the dose was the same for everyone – no tricky calculations of weight or the like. One drop would make the drinker loose-lipped and suggestable. Two would ensure that the drinker spoke only the truth. Three compelled the truth from a drinker's lips. Six drops without the antidote, or in less than twenty-four hours, would land the drinker in the hospital wing, and ten would be fatal. That was if it had been brewed perfectly, which, she hastened to assure the group, they thought it had been. If – when – they proved that it worked, Hermione and the twins would separate out the potion into hundreds of individual doses, so that there could be no chance of an accidental overdose.
The antidote, the boys explained, pulling a set of small bottles with eyedroppers from their pockets and handing them around, was inert, and could be ingested safely without any side effects or consequences. They had already tested it, and there were no ill effects. One drop would reverse three drops of Veritaserum, and would protect you for a full day against the truth potion, or until the truth potion was ingested. They cancelled each other out. Without the antidote, the Veritaserum would wear off slowly, taking about four hours to reach a point of two-drop honesty, and a full day to clear the system completely, which meant the antidote was necessary for their plan to go undetected.
Hermione volunteered to go first with the truth serum. The twins looked awfully anxious, but they must have discussed it beforehand, because neither one of them said anything against her. One of the red-heads measured three careful drops into a clean vial, and the bushy-haired Ravenclaw tossed it back before either of her closest friends could tell her to wait. Her bright eyes dimmed a bit as the potion took hold of her.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" the boy who had handed over the potion asked.
"Yes," she replied, unnaturally calm.
"Can you lie?" the other twin asked eagerly.
Hermione obviously tried to say something, but whatever it was, she failed. "No."
"How do we know she's not faking it?" Adrian asked.
"You're all going to have to take it, too, obviously," Hermione said, her natural inclination to answer any question asked anywhere near her only enhanced by the potion.
"We should ask the interrogation questions, while we're all here, just to be sure," Perry suggested. His companions nodded, and the younger Slytherins agreed at once. They needed to know that they could trust each other, that they hadn't included the Heir in their Conspiracy. They were simply too suspicious as a house to trust anyone outside of their respective close friends.
The twins shared a look, and one of them rolled his eyes. "Of course," the other boy said with a drawl reminiscent of Professor Snape. "Go ahead, then," the eye-roller added.
Morgana took over. "What is your full name?"
"Hermione Jean Granger."
"What is your true opinion on blood status?"
"I'm fairly certain blood doesn't really matter. I mean, I'm obviously just as magically capable as any wizard-born student in my year – pureblood or halfblood or whatever. Blood prejudice is a cultural thing, like Daddy says race is in the muggle world, and in my opinion, it's a load of shite. All the old pureblood families are full of inbred arseholes like Malfoy, anyway. Crabbe and Goyle are practically trolls."
Morgana made a funny face at that. "Moon, do try to find the opportunity to educate your housemate on the intricacies of family magics and why being a pureblood does, actually, matter," she said under her breath. Aerin nodded, and Mary made a note to get herself included in that conversation.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, any hesitancy she might normally have had about asking overwhelmed by the truth serum fogging her mind.
"Never you mind. Are you the Heir of Slytherin?"
"No, of course not. Although if you think about it, I'm sure there's a better chance that the Heir is a muggleborn than that it's someone with a known pedigree. The Gaunts are all dead, and they were the last known descendants of Slytherin, right? All it would take is one squib off the Slytherin line, and bingo, complete unknown inherits the title of heir of Slytherin. Though really, isn't the House of Slytherin long gone, since no one bears the name anymore?"
Morgana sighed and cut off the girl's babbling. "Do you know who or what caused the petrification of Creevey, Finch-Fletchley, and the Gryffindor ghost?"
"Well, not directly, but I'm planning to find out. As for the monster, we think it's a basilisk, my friends and I, though we don't know how it's actually petrifying people and not killing them. And I suppose if you have to lay the blame somewhere, you could say Dumbledore is causing the attacks by keeping the school open, or the board of governors, but as for whoever is supposedly opening the Chamber of Secrets, I've no idea. Maybe Lockhart. I hear it's always the DADA professor. Like the butler, you know." Hermione peered earnestly at her questioner.
"I think that covers the next three questions, as well. Does anyone else have anything to add?" the Slytherin asked the assembled group.
"If you were the Heir of Slytherin, who would you attack?" Lilian asked.
"Probably the next person to piss off Elizabeth. Why ruin a good frame up? It's not like there's been any other rhyme or reason to the attacks."
"Maia!" Mary exclaimed, as Lilian sniggered.
"What? That's the smart thing to do. It follows the pattern, what little there is of one. Though the cat is a bit of an outlier, I suppose, and two data points aren't really a trend, per se…"
"All right," Morgana said with a smirk, "I think that's enough. Give her the antidote, Weasley. Who's next?"
Mary volunteered, eager to clear her own name. The Veritaserum was odd on her tongue, sinking in and making her mouth feel dry, rather than moistened by the liquid, but it had no taste at all. She tried to lie when Hermione asked her name, and found it pulled from her involuntarily. It was very disconcerting. Everyone was highly amused when she said she would attack Gilderoy Lockhart if she were really the heir, and laughed even harder at her answer to the follow-up question of why – "He's an enormous jackass and deserves to spend the rest of his life with his bloody perfect smile frozen in place. Or dead. Whichever. So long as he can't talk or go about ruining perfectly good arms."
They cycled through all the other Slytherins next. None of them thought blood status was completely unimportant, and Hermione took offence to that, until Aerin promised to explain what the big bloody deal was later that evening. The younger Ravenclaw still sat fuming in a corner and refused to participate until they reached the Weasley twins. In addition to the extra question about who they would attack if they could ("Dunno, Ron? He's been a right git lately. Worse than Percy, even."), Adrian asked George how they could tell the twins apart. The entirely unsatisfying answer was, "Fred is in Creatures. I'm in Muggle Studies." After that, Fred called an end to George's questioning. Aerin was the last to be questioned. Perry cut off the beginning of what seemed to be a very long discussion on the nature and meaning of blood status in the magical world, telling her to save it for the muggleborn, which, she said, was the reason she would attack Perry if she were the heir. Apparently she did not take kindly to high-handed interruptions.
Within an hour, they were all convinced that none of their fellow conspirators was the Heir.
The general consensus was that everyone suspected Lockhart, which led to a long discussion of whether they ought to question him as well. Hermione was inclined to say no, because as a professor he was more likely to cotton onto their activities than the other students. Everyone else rebuffed her, with the argument that as the DADA professor and an utter incompetent, he probably wouldn't even notice. Eventually, Morgana, Perry, and Adrian simply informed them that they would take care of it.
After that, they spent another couple of hours practicing the stun – interrogate – antidote – befuddle – sleeping draught – levitate – revive sequence the twins had developed to mask their activities. They also discussed the logistics of their project. It was eventually decided that it would be easiest for the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to interrogate their housemates, while the five Slytherins worked together to deal with the Hufflepuffs – their house was already cleared, after all, and Hufflepuffs tended to move in larger groups than any of the other houses, so it made sense that the largest group within the Conspiracy would target them.
Hermione would pass the necessary potions to Lilian and Mary to deliver to the other Slytherins. Morgana suggested that they should only keep small amounts of each potion on hand, the rest remaining wherever it had been brewed. It would mean more exchanges, but they would be less likely to be caught with it. Perry added that they shouldn't leave any of it unattended in their dorms, but carry it with them and practice their vanishing charms, just in case they needed to get rid of it in a hurry. This, of course, led to an impromptu tutoring session for the younger students, who had not yet learned to vanish anything, let alone incriminating evidence.
They finally made their way up to the castle, tired and cold, just before dinner.
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The next morning, Hermione delivered the requisite potions to Mary and Lilian, along with the news that Mallory Prince was innocent, and Luna Lovegood, the waif, would be joining their conspiracy, due to the fact that she had instantly and without hesitation informed them that a basilisk was the most likely weapon of petrification, if a creature was indeed at fault. When they had asked the girl why none of the victims had died, she had explained that none of the victims had actually looked the basilisk in the eye, seeing it instead in a reflection or through a camera or a ghost. Aerin had immediately declared that they could use another person who picked out important details like that, even one who insisted that if she were the Heir of Slytherin, she would petrify Minister Fudge to free his army of heliopaths.
Mary was reluctant to add more people to their group, but what had been done, had been done. She had only one question about the Ravenclaw firstie: "What's a heliopath?"
"No idea!" Hermione said with a huff. "I can't find anything about them at all in the library. I'm not sure they actually exist. I mean, if the minister has an army of them, you'd think someone would know, wouldn't they?"
The Slytherins simply laughed, and Hermione changed the subject, wanting Lilian's explanation of why blood purity actually mattered. Apparently Aerin hadn't gotten around to telling her. The short answer, and the one Hermione eventually accepted, albeit reluctantly, and with great irritation, was that there wasn't really a difference between purebloods and muggleborns personally, but purebloods normally inherited family grimoires (which contained jealously guarded family secrets and spells) and often had multi-generational curses or blessings on their bloodlines that gave them a bit of a leg up, magically speaking. "Moons have a bit of a gift with all kinds of animals," for example, the tall Slytherin said with a shrug. "It's not a huge deal, but it's not unimportant, either."
At that, Hermione decided she needed to think about the issue for a while, and withdrew back to the nearly deserted Ravenclaw tower. Lilian decided to go back to her new muggle crime novels (she was very pleased with Hermione's gift), and Mary wandered the castle a bit more, enjoying the freedom of the empty corridors. There was still time, after all, to appreciate the peace and quiet before everyone who hated her returned, and apparently they could rest easy for the moment – Unless it was one of the Weasleys (and that seemed very unlikely), the real Heir must have gone home for the holiday as well.