I'm back – Who else?
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Hogwarts – Great Hall – 9th of January, Dinner
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"Spill!"
Harry looked into Daphne's face, pondering how to react to her question. Her gaze was intense and she didn't seem to be in the mood to hear some lame joke from him. Curiosity was there, but more than anything else Harry saw concern. It was an expression he knew all too well from Hermione and those conversations she had started with questions about his last summer break. She is suspecting something.
They were sitting at the dinner table together with Hermione. Neville had left some minutes ago to speak with Professor Sprout about something regarding her subject. A moment ago Daphne had followed his stare to the weird Beauxbatons girl from yesterday. The evening before and most of the time they had been in the Great Hall today, he hadn't been willing to lose sight of her. He had even visited Madam Pomfrey shortly, asking – hopefully without attracting attention – if Claire was there. "No, she's not – haven't seen her this year."
Now she had left, behaving and moving like the day before, in hidden pain; if she was in pain, why didn't she allow Poppy to treat her? Harry had been deep in thoughts until his girlfriend interrupted him. Daphne's eyes showed him that she wasn't jealous, but irritated about the reason of his interest.
Harry smiled weakly: "I'll tell you – but not here." He shortly glanced in Hermione's direction. "I need help… from both of you." With a small, uneasy smile he added: "I've a plan."
In silence Hermione and Daphne followed him out of the Hall and towards one of the smaller rooms that had been prepared to allow students from all three schools to have a bit of privacy for studying or simply relaxing. It was empty now, small heaps of garbage telling of someone using it the day before for a 'return party'. Apparently the house elves had been too busy with everything else to clean the room properly since then. Or they'd simply forgotten this one.
Harry acknowledged with a small nod that Daphne not only closed the door, but also spell it close and put some silencing charms on it. The last one she used Harry didn't even know and the glimmer of interest in Hermione's eyes did wonders to relax him. This will be difficult.
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"I've never told you much about my childhood," he started slowly. Both girls had taken seats some steps away, sensing that he needed a bit of space to gather his thoughts. Hermione, especially, listened closely. Despite knowing Harry for more than three years, despite guessing that his time with the Dursleys has never been very homely, she didn't really know how bad it had been. Even to her he had always been very private in that regard.
"For ten years I had lived with the Dursleys, my Aunt Petunia, her husband Vernon and their whale of a son Dudley before I received the letter from Hogwarts. They're my only blood relatives, as far as I know, and supposedly this is somehow important – important enough that the Headmaster ignored the wishes of my parents to let me stay with someone else, with someone my parents had chosen like Mother or Augusta.
"You must understand that my childhood wasn't very pleasant." His voice was only a whisper now, the complete silence around allowing the girls to understand him nonetheless. "Certainly there are other children who live in worse conditions, but…"
He made a weak gesture. "If it happens to yourself you always think that it is especially tough." He pressed a smile that was not reciprocated from Daphne. "Most of the time it was only – if you can really use the word 'only' in this context – verbal and emotional abuse. Petunia never showed any kind of affection, nothing a mother normally would do, nothing I experience since I'm a member of your family. No nice words, no friendly gesture – nothing that would make their house something I could call a home.
"I had no friends back then. Even at the school no one was willing to spend time with me. The few children that dared to play with me were threatened by Dudley and stayed away after that. And about my parents I knew nearly nothing. There was no picture, no letter and no tale-telling about how my mother had been as a child. Instead they used my parents' names like cusses, told me that they had died drunken in a car accident." Daphne gasped, for a moment unable to stay calm, her eyes glinting. Everyone in the Wizarding knew how the Potters had died: Trying to defend their son, dying to allow him to live. To tell him this story, to tell him that they had been drunkards, their death self-imposed, had been horrible and cruel.
"Harry-hunting," he continued "that was what Dudley and his friends called one of their favourite pastimes. It was the reason for most of my childhood bruises, results of their punches and kicks or my attempts to flee them. But some injuries…" He struggled visibly and now Daphne hurried at his side, hugging him. Hermione twitched for a moment, wanted to be there too, but stayed back. This was Daphne's job now, she realized, as it was her job to be Neville's support should he ever need her – need her like he had done only a week ago.
"There had been moments of physical abuse too, not so often but they existed. If Uncle Vernon was in a very bad mood, if something happened at work or I accidently used magic – like that afternoon when I apparated on the roof to flee from Dudley – yelling and insulting apparently wasn't enough anymore and he started to hit me. Sometimes Petunia stopped him – certainly not out of sympathy but because she feared reactions from the neighbours."
Harry went silent for a while, the only noise caused by Daphne's hand rubbing his back. He gulped: "I had bruises, contusions, once even a broken arm. I tried to hide them when I went to school, conjured up excuses to explain them, always behaving 'normal'."
"And," Daphne asked with a soft voice "you assume that it is the same with that French girl? Isn't she too old to experience something like that?"
Harry shook his head determinedly. "You're never too old for fear and hurt."
"There had been articles," Hermione interjected. "I read articles in the journals at my parents practice: Stories about children beaten by their parents, about wives living in fear of their husbands."
"I don't understand," Daphne frowned. "I comprehend a child fearing its father, but a nearly grown girl and especially a woman should be able to defend herself. I've not much sympathy for a woman that's not willing to fight for her rights."
For a moment Daphne saw disappointment in Harry's eyes and she felt bad about what she had said. But then Harry's face softened again and he gently cupped her cheek with his hand. "That's because you're a very special girl, Daphne, a strong girl. I remember the story about you declining Draco's 'generous offer' to be engaged to him." A small grin played around his lips. Only intensifying as Daphne's growled a bit, thinking about the git. "You're fiery and strong-willed; I fear even more than Hermione."
"Hey," Hermione complained mockingly.
Harry grinned only. "We'll have fabulous rows, I'm certain. But really," he got serious again. "Not everyone is like you. And you only have to tell someone often enough how worthless she is before she starts to believe it. Even Hermione will be hurt if you mock her because of her thirst for knowledge and she's certainly not a weak girl. But way too often she had been mocked because of her love for books."
"He's right about that, Daphne," Hermione agreed, her expression and tone of voice causing Harry to feel guilty. Ron had been of those who had mocked Hermione and he had stayed silent far too often. "Abuse is everywhere and it is especially hard to take from your family. You said that this Claire should be able to defend herself. But how could she do it? What if she fights and her family doesn't allow her to continue her education? How much would you be willing to endure to continue schooling? How much would you endure from your father to be allowed around your mother, your sister?"
"Everything," Daphne whispered. "My mother, Astoria… they mean everything to me." She understood now. Fighting your own family wasn't easy. Luckily she had Mum and Grandma on her side. How would her struggle against the engagement have been decided otherwise? She knew the stories of Sirius and Andromeda Black, how they rebelled against their parents and lost their families. Could she do this herself? Could she go against her father, knowing that she would lose Astoria in the process? After a moment of silence she added: "I'm sorry about what I said. I simply don't know Claire's situation. Perhaps she has no escape."
"Do you remember Madam Pomfrey's answer?" Harry asked. "Mother asked her about me, about what she knew about my… my 'situation'."
Daphne remembered it; the answer had been enough to make her blood boil. "She said that she knew. She said that she told the Headmaster and that she wasn't allowed to react."
"Exactly," Harry agreed. "And do you remember what Mother told about Professor Snape, about his youth and what she read in his medical file? He had endured something similar, I'm sure. And certainly there are other students who experience the same. Viktor told me that corporal punishment is something normal at Durmstrang. And while I don't expect the same from Beauxbatons…"
"Appearance," Daphne sighed. "Appearance is extremely important among the old French families. Nobody would step in if a child is abused by its family as long as the appearance is whole and healthy."
"That's what I fear. Perhaps I see something like this earlier than others because of my history. But certainly a teacher would know, would realize if it happened more than once to one of his students."
"Professor Snape reacted," Daphne whispered, causing wide eyes from Harry and Hermione. "Tell no one, but… he examines his students, especially those who react weird, behave subdued, move unnaturally; those with a history, those with parents known for their temper. He stepped in more than once, was able to help more than one child. He can't solve every problem but he tried to do as much as possible. Please understand: Professor Snape is feared even among Slytherin students, but he is respected too. He has a sharp tongue. He is a caustic, derisive git even among his own house. But he has been willing to help every time one of us really needed it."
"That's… unexpected." Harry stared at Daphne. It was difficult to imagine Snape as a caring teacher. But perhaps this was simply another unknown side of him, a side he didn't show anybody out of his house. "Perhaps he is like that because of his own history."
"But still," Hermione continued "it's not enough. Too often nothing happens; too often we ignore what students experience at home. There's nothing in the Wizarding like the Muggle Child Care. There no Ministry social worker visiting the family. And if even Poppy isn't allowed to react ..."
"It's a fine line, Hermione." Daphne tried to explain. "In the Wizarding parents are still allowed to punish their children. The laws Muggles invented in the last decades to protect children, to protect especially women from domestic violence – they never made it into the magical world. There isn't something like a women's refuge in Diagon Alley."
"That's all very well, but what shall we do now about Claire?" Hermione sighed.
"As I already said," Harry responded "I have a plan. But I'll need your help, ladies."
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Great Hall – 10th of January – Lunch
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"Hi Claire."
The addressed girl turned around, only to see that bushy-haired girl that was often around the youngest Champion. According to rumours she was one of Potter's best friends and extremely intelligent. Fleur saying something like this meant something to her, despite the constant competition between the girls. Claire didn't really want to speak with anyone now, had even avoided her new Hufflepuff friends today. She felt tired and some of the bruises didn't heal properly. But perhaps this could be a distraction from her pain. Her side had hurt awfully today, her healing charms unable to do anything about it. If only she were better at them. But no healer belonged to the small entourage and she would never go to the English nurse.
"I heard you come from Orleans."
Claire nodded slowly, not knowing what this was all about. With a smile Hermione took a seat across her. It had been a good idea to ask Fleur about Claire. And with Hermione knowing some parts of France fairly well it should be easy to have a conversation about the country, interesting enough to divert Claire's attention from her vicinity. "My family has been in France several times. We want to visit your home town next summer. I hoped you'd be able to give me some hints."
The next thirty minutes before they had to leave for afternoon lessons were very pleasant. This English girl was witty and well-spoken, Claire had to admit. She didn't notice the group of Slytherins in her back, didn't notice that only Blaise and Tracey were taking part in their own small conversation, shielding Daphne from any observer, hiding the noises of soft spoken incantations and the scratches of a magical quill, recording the results on parchment. Little did Claire guess how much this little conversation would change her life.
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Potion Master Office – 10th of January evening
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What nonsense, Severus Snape growled, sitting alone in his office, the unwrapped book – a birthday present from Roxanne Greengrass – on the table, her letter full of nonsense in his hands. His birthday had been the day before and luckily no one had dared to congratulate him – apart from the Headmaster, as could be expected from the old goat. And Minerva had been here for their usual 'birthday tea and cake', the only present he endured without much complaining and even liked a bit.
A picture? He continued to growl. A picture of his parents they had given to the boy – what an idea this had been. As if anyone wanted to be reminded of James bloody Potter. For a moment he stopped in his ramblings, his mind turning to Lily Potter, his one and only childhood friend. She was one of his parents, too. More than once it had startled him to look into her green eyes when he stared at the insufferable boy.
"I don't want you to cuddle him, Severus." She had written. "I don't want you to speak nicely about his father."
As if I ever would, Severus Snape cursed.
"But you have known Lily better than anyone of us. You knew a side of James I've never seen."
Nobody had been willing to see this other side. Everyone only saw the golden boy, unable to do anything wrong.
"I want Harry to know his real parents, at least as far as possible with this picture. I want him to know both sides; the good and the bad, his virtues and his faults."
What virtues? Severus Snape asked with a deep frown.
"Please help me with this, Severus."
To read this letter made him want to tear his hairs. He really didn't want to do this. He didn't have the wish to think about James Potter and even wanted less to think about Lily, about his debt. But even if he didn't like the boy – oh Merlin how much he disliked him – he owed him this. Because of his actions Harry had lost his parents and this picture would be a way to repay his debt at least a tiny little bit. And he owed it Roxanne too. She had been one of those who had smuggled healing potions into his trunk before the summer break. He had known, but never spoken about it.
And how had he repaid her kindness? Because of Lucius' wishes he had stayed silent about Cyrus and his ugly plans. Now, with Harry belonging to the family, those plans were hopefully futile. But still – he should have told her. Severus Snape, Potions Master and former Death Eater, was unsure. What should he do?
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"Please repeat to me the reason you think I should be willing to help you, Miss Greengrass."
The black-haired girl was sitting in front of him, just minutes after he had finished pondering about her mother's letter. Some papers of her were resting on the table now together with her wand. A new wand, he noticed. A Madam Guila wand, he realized. He owned one of her wands himself, used it only in the potions lab were fine-tuning the magic was more important than raw power. Her wand used another jewel; one used for examination spells if he remembered correctly. Apparently Roxanne had used the winter break for a little shopping as Daphne's wand wasn't the only new one around. Madam Sprout hadn't been able to stay silent at dinner, had spoken highly of Longbottom's new herbalism wand. As if a new wand would be of any help, he mused darkly.
"I need your help, Professor, regarding the health of one of the Beauxbatons female students."
"And why exactly, pray do tell, should her health be of any interest to me? I'm certain," he huffed "that Madam Maxime is fully able to take care of her… sweet darlings." He didn't like the French students and he certainly didn't like their Headmistress. It wasn't her status as a half-giant, but to watch her flirt with Hagrid made Snape violently ill.
The dark potion master glowered at the girl, but to his indignation she didn't appear to be impressed. Was she simply stupid or brave? Most likely both, he groaned inwardly. He had to admit that her small eruption a month ago had impressed him. It was a bit Gryffindorish to act like she had done, but to care for your friends – especially weaker ones – was a trait he could accept.
"Please read this," she begged instead of an answer and pushed the papers in front of him. After a last glare he started to read, concentrated and fast as usual. It was a – certainly magically gathered as he didn't know the script – summary of a magical health examination. He had to admit – at least to himself – that he was impressed with the quality of the work. Poppy had spoken highly of the girl, her talents and how she had handled the healing of that stupid tomcat. He really would have liked to watch her punching the Weaslette. Everybody who punched a Weasley did something right, in his opinion.
The examination had been carefully executed, was nearly all-encompassing and very structured – something he had seen more than once in her assignments. While Daphne wasn't one of his more talented students, she did well, worked carefully and was fully able to produce a large number of different and fully acceptable potions. A few of her conclusions were a bit rash but the overall result could only be the one: He had to act.
"And what do you expect me to do?"
Daphne smiled, her next sentence prompting Severus Snape to groan again. "Mister Potter had a plan…"
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At the same time – near the Gryffindor tower
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"Miss Granger?"
Hermione turned around only to see the stern face of her favourite teacher. Minerva McGonagall had always been her role model, the type of woman – intellectual and regarding behaviour and morals – she strove to be. This evening her face showed her uneasiness. She doesn't want to have this conversation, Hermione mused.
Harry had departed with Daphne to wait for her near Snape's office. "If he's not willing to help I want to go to Madam Pomfrey immediately."
Hermione on the other hand had waited for Neville and now they were on their way to the Gryffindor dorm, holding hands and Neville talking agitatedly about his conversation with Madam Sprout. He always has this fire in his eyes, speaking about plants, Hermione smiled inwardly. She really hoped that the Ritual had helped. Anne had ordered him to be careful for a while and Hermione had been repeating the meditation lessons with him every day. With his new wand he had become better. As foreseeen it wasn't a large jump but Hermione had noticed it, knowing full well how his casting had been in the past. They would continue to train. And someone would pay. For a short moment a burst of anger passed her body, darkened her eyes.
"The Headmaster wants to see you, Miss Granger."
Hermione nodded. As Neville started to follow her, Professor McGonagall stopped him: "Alone."
Hermione had to take a few heavy breaths, anger darkening her face again.
"I can't allow that." Neville's answer, softly spoken but his face showing his determination, shocked Minerva even more than Hermione. "Hermione is under the protection of House Longbottom and with my Grandma not present it is my duty to escort her."
He raised his chin, daring Minerva to oppose him. For some long moments Minerva watched him intensely. She knew about the magical guardianship, knew that Augusta had already executed the formalities. Neville's Grandma had written her about it, something she hadn't told the Headmaster. He had heard about it through other channels. Augusta had been a good friend for a long time. For more than forty years Minerva had been a teacher at Hogwarts, for more than the same time Augusta had been a member of the school board. After the war they had drifted away a bit, but their fight against those cowardly Death Eaters at the Quidditch finals had rekindled their friendship.
She had been angry when Dumbledore told her that he wanted to speak with Hermione about the adoption. To have Augusta for a magical guardian was certainly one of the best possible solutions for the extremely talented young witch. More than once Minerva had feared to think about how she would fare after the school, how her status as a Muggleborn would deny her a career she deserved. And now – she feared – Dumbledore wanted to take that away again.
Watching the young Longbottom intensely she thought about the change in him she had noticed. Only two days he had been back, but the change had been noticeable. Filius had assumed that it was a result of his new wand – his own wand, attuned to him and not his father – and his new self-esteem, stemming from the relation to Hermione Granger. But Minerva wasn't certain. Yes, these were two very good reasons and certainly played a role, but there had to be something else.
In the previous years Neville – who had always been quite good at the theory – had been real awful at casting spells. To be honest: Until now he belonged to the same category as Crabbe and Goyle when it came to the practical execution of his knowledge. But he had improved, was now more in the middle of her class and she hoped for more. If Hermione had this impact on him, then her relation to Augusta was only the more important.
Interpreting her continuing silence as approval, Neville continued: "And I request your presence to at the Headmaster's office – in your position as the Head of House Gryffindor."
"I comply with your request, Mister Longbottom," Minerva answered with a small nod and the faintest of smiles.
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"Miss Granger," Headmaster Dumbledore sighed.
He was getting angry and frustrated, Minerva could see this. Albus hadn't been happy about seeing her and Neville escorting Hermione into his office. For a few moments he had even struggled to show his usual friendly face again, his eyes twinkling like mad.
"Lemon drops," he had asked as usual. Hermione had leant forward to accept the offer, only to stop when Neville barked a "no thank you." Minerva had suppressed her grin. It was an open secret – at least among the teachers – that the Headmaster offered a very special kind of lemon drops, coated in a weak calming potion.
Albus had started slowly, trying to get the teenagers to relax, speaking about Christmas, their train ride back and how their families fared. But the more time passed, the more agitated especially Neville had become. And his angry grunt – when Albus at last started to talk about the real reason of this conversation – nearly prompted Minerva to giggle. Not that she would ever giggle; she wasn't a girl anymore but a sober person.
"Some of the decisions you and your friends made last year caused concern among your teachers." Minerva was unable and unwilling to stop herself from commenting this statement with a harrumph. Dumbledore glared in her direction, only to be surprised by Hermione's determined voice.
"Our decisions they had been, Headmaster, as you stated correctly. They concern our private, our family life and I don't see any reason why they should be of any interest to the school administration."
Minerva allowed herself to get carried away by her emotions. This was simply too good. Obviously Neville and Hermione both had gained from their relationship, like Daphne and Harry had been good for each other too, something even Severus had admitted in private. Now not only a smile crept on Minerva's lips, but she put a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder and pressed it shortly. "I agree, Miss Granger."
Hermione still didn't relax but the thankful smile on Neville's face proved that she had reacted in the right way.
For a moment Dumbledore was taken aback. Never before had Minerva taken a position like this in front of students. If she criticized his actions, she had always done this in private. He coughed two times and tried to switch to his 'concerned grandfather face', the change not completely successful. "We're caring for you. We want you to be secure that you don't err with important decisions about your future, decisions that are quite difficult for someone who has been raised in the Muggle world. Certainly you agree that Professor McGonagall and I only have your best interests at heart and would be more appropriate as your magical guardians than everybody else."
What was worse? Minerva mused, that Neville answered with a snigger to this silly speech or Hermione's reaction: "I've certainly no trust problems with Professor McGonagall – especially after the change in her demeanor in the last months." She turned around and smiled thankfully while Dumbledore tried to get back his composure. "I never thanked you for what you did, Professor. Even without Professor Snape not taking part, it had been good to see that the other House Heads noticed how grave the 'Mudblood' insult always has been for us Muggleborns. Thank you very much."
Minerva smiled back, disregarding the glare Dumbledore threw in her direction. He hadn't been happy about her advance.
The Headmaster coughed slightly: "Well, well. I only feared that your decision about your magical guardianship was perhaps a bit hasty."
"I never do hasty."
Minerva couldn't suppress her smile at the determined and angry answer – and correct answer to add as she knew quite well how thoroughly Hermione Granger always pondered about everything, thought about it back and forth, left and right.
Dumbledore was at the end of his patience now. This impertinent girl, he cursed. Why didn't she see that he knew better? For a moment he thought about threatening her with her continued education but with the young Longbottom and the troublesome Minerva in the same room, this could be disastrous. He needed a toehold for the discussion, some argument that would allow him to sway her mind. And he needed it fast.
Luckily he was able to use Legilimency without incantation or wand. He was far stronger using both but he could do without and it would be less conspicuous. Hopefully Miss Granger hadn't improved again. He turned the conversation to something more harmless, asked her about Harry's plans for the next term. Minerva had told him that Harry wanted to drop Divination and take Ancient Runes instead. That he hadn't to take an exam at the year's end because of his Champion status would allow him more than enough time to catch up until the OWL. And Daphne and Hermione would certainly be more than happy and able to help him.
It wasn't really of interest for him how Harry fared in his education as long as he continued to be in the school. But it allowed him to continue the conversation and divert Hermione's attention while he invaded her mind. With ease he was able to break through her outer defense. It was quite strong for a girl of her age, he admitted. Some of his teachers hadn't an equally strong defense. Her mind tried to divert his advance, tried to hide her thoughts behind garbage. But he wouldn't allow her to …
What in the name of Merlin …
For a second his words faltered. Dumbledore found himself at a weird place. He knew Occlumency well enough to instantly understand that this was Miss Granger's dreamscape. She shouldn't be able to already develop her own dreamscape, Dumbledore frowned. Room after room he crossed, each of them in a dazzling white; bright lamps illuminated every corner. In every room was a dentist's chair, in every room he saw an assortment of modern and medieval dentist's tools, some of them more resembling instruments of torture. Drilling noises were everywhere; cries of pain filled the air. Doctors in white coats were walking around, surgical masks hiding their faces, cruel eyes staring at him.
He had to find a way through this maze of horror. Dumbledore knew … sensed, that he would be able to conquer this defense despite the irritation he felt about Miss Granger's surprising abilities. But just as he wanted to go ahead, to make use of his far greater experience, something hit his head, broke his concentration and stopped his endeavor.
Concentrating on the persons around him again, he felt blood running down his face. Something had hit his brow and cut the skin. Flabbergasted he noticed the bloody instrument on the floor, normally resting on the table to be used as a paperweight but now used by Neville as missile. The boy knew Hermione well enough, had been through enough lessons about Occlumency and Legilimency to detect the signs. This bloody prat tried to read Hermione's mind. Despite her training she wouldn't be able to stay strong against the Headmaster for long. He had to help her. The assumption that – without the presence him and Professor McGonagall – Dumbledore would have used Legilimency at full force and certainly obliviated Hermione afterwards, made his blood boil.
Grabbing the nearest object he threw it at the Headmaster, certainly no less stunned about his action as Professor McGonagall was now. Only his anger allowed Neville to hiss: "Stop to use Legilimency on my girlfriend this instant, Headmaster. I'll inform my Grandmother about this incident and be assured that we won't be happy."
We, Minerva smiled. How often had Draco Malfoy threatened someone with his father? But unlike with the Slytherin git Minerva had no doubts that Augusta and Neville would stand side by side to defend Hermione against everyone – even against the Headmaster.
"Mister Longbottom, Miss Granger – you'll leave the office this instant. This conversation is over. The Headmaster and I have some important and urgent issues to discuss."
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A/N
Just in time finished. In one hour I'll start my small vacation. I hope you like this chapter. Please ignore the errors; I hadn't much time for beta reading. The next chapter should be online in 12-14 days. See you then.