A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "You're My Density" by robst. Time-travel story in which Harry loses his temper at his trial for underaged magic, leading to his magic being bound, his memory being wiped, and to Voldemort taking over. Eventually Dumbledore comes up with a way to send Harry and Hermione back in time to change things; unfortunately, Harry's memories don't return in the process. In progress. H/Hr.
Italics: a person's thoughts.
Chapter 12 - Bad to the Bone
Saturday, August 14, 1995. Morning.
When Jasmine and Hermione accompanied Fleur to the library, they brought a small stack of congratulatory letters from their friends. It seemed that by yesterday evening, everyone had heard about what had happened in the Ministry that morning. There was nothing about the trial in the Daily Prophet, of course, but if Fudge thought that he was going to successfully cover up his failure, he was very much mistaken.
Not only was news of the trial being spread by their friends privately, but Luna Lovegood's letter included an offer to write an article for The Quibbler if the two Gryffindors wanted to provide some background information — which they eagerly intended to do that very day.
Regularly inviting her to eat with them towards the end of the previous term had resulted in a slowly-developing friendship with the blonde Ravenclaw. "Having friends in the media is useful, isn't it?" Jasmine now asked with a smirk.
Hermione rolled her eyes as she always did when the Lovegoods' bizarre publication was mentioned. They both thought Luna was incredibly sweet, but her conspiracy theories and stories about strange animals drove Hermione spare. Jasmine didn't know what to make of the younger witch's beliefs, so instead she just focused on the entertainment value of watching Hermione's reactions.
Once all three were seated, they began to discuss their training and lesson plans for the rest of the summer. They only had two weeks before they'd be back in the castle and caught up in the demands of fifth year. "How far have you gotten in your defense studies?" Fleur asked.
"Last month I did what I could alone," Hermione answered. "But we need to start practicing with each other again."
"We aren't under pressure from the hearing anymore, so that will help," Jasmine added.
"Bien," Fleur said. "You cannot practice spellcasting here — even if you weren't underage, there isn't anywhere good for zat. Still, you can work on theory, reviewing fourth year and reading ahead for fifth."
Once they had worked out some provisional study plans, Fleur said that they would be mostly on their own because she would need all of the remaining two weeks of the summer holidays to prepare for seven different years of defense lessons.
"Can we help at all?" Hermione asked. Just as Fleur was about to decline, they heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. A glance at the doorway revealed Remus Lupin standing there, looking decidedly awkward.
"Um, perhaps I could be of help with that?" he said. Grimacing slightly at the cold reception he received, he continued. "Though I originally came up here primarily to apologize to you, Miss Granger, for what I did." She cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. "At the very least, I should have found some other way to do what I was asked, but as I've looked back on things, I've come to conclude that those were instructions that I probably shouldn't have been following in the first place."
Her expression softened, and while the change was slight, it was enough to encourage him to continue. "At the time I sincerely believed that keeping Jasmine isolated was necessary for security — and the Headmaster repeatedly emphasized the importance of keeping her safe, especially in the wake of her kidnapping. I hope you'll understand that it was my concern for her safety, combined with many years of feeling that I owe him a great debt, that caused me to act... well, to act in a way that I am now quite ashamed of. I should not have stunned you, Miss Granger."
"I appreciate your desire to keep me safe," Jasmine said stiffly, "but that house was never especially 'safe' for me, and physical safety isn't the only important thing in the world. It's not enough to simply live, you have to have something to live for — and being incarcerated in that house sapped away from me any sense that there was anything worth living for. Once I started attending Hogwarts, it was only the thought of getting back to friends like Hermione that kept me going."
Remus looked down at his feet and said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"You could have known, though," Hermione said, her voice less conciliatory than Jasmine's. "Why didn't you ever visit her? Or even write to her?"
"That's... that's a long story," Remus answered. "I wasn't even in the country when James and Lily were killed. Albus had sent me on a mission to negotiate with werewolves on the continent. When I returned and heard the news, I rejoiced at our victory, then sank into a deep depression when I learned how great the cost had been. I lost my three closest friends and thought one a traitor — and these were just about the only people who had ever treated me like a human being. Albus assured me that Jasmine was safe, and then I proceeded to get drunk for a couple of years."
Remus walked into the room and sat heavily at the second table. "Once I climbed back out of the bottle, I tried to contact you but couldn't. I couldn't find you, and owls I sent never came back with an answer. I asked Albus, and he told me that you were being kept in a safe, secure place where you couldn't be contacted. I... well, I believed him."
"And once I started Hogwarts?" Jasmine asked.
Remus sighed. "By that point I had convinced myself that you wouldn't be interested in knowing a broken-down old werewolf. I had no idea how you'd been raised or by whom, and I couldn't be sure that you wouldn't be as prejudiced as just about everyone else in our world. And even if you weren't... well, you have to remember that it's never far from my mind that I'm a dark creature. It took me a long time being friends with James and Sirius to develop much self-esteem, and I lost most of that in the wake of that Halloween. I... well, I never felt especially worthy to try approaching you."
"You should have tried," Jasmine insisted, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't know anything about my parents before I came to Hogwarts. I still don't know much, in fact. I'd have given anything to be able to communicate with someone who would have told me about them. Anything." Jasmine sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, prompting Hermione to hug her from one side and Fleur from the other.
"I didn't know that then," Remus said softly, "but I know it now. I'd like to make it up to you, if I can. If you'll let me."
Jasmine just sniffed again and stared at her shoes for a few long moments before she finally nodded. "You can start by helping Fleur," Jasmine said, smiling as she looked over at the veela. "I think she could use your help more than me right now."
"Of course," Remus said. "That's one reason why I came up here. Also, Sirius thought that if I was going to be spending time with Miss Delacour and her lessons, maybe you two could join him in his bedroom? Apparently he has something important to show you — not even I know what it is. Although... it's really only because you're his goddaughter that I'm willing to trust you with him after hearing him say, 'come to my bedroom, I want to show you something….'"
Jasmine and Hermione snickered and looked to Fleur, who just said, "Go on," and made shooing motions at them.
"So, Miss Delacour," they heard as they walked out of the library, "let me show you the lesson plans I used…."
Sirius led the two witches to a stretch of bare wall in the hall on the top floor and said, "I'd like to introduce you to my mother and some of the other portraits."
"But where, Sirius?" Hermione asked. "There's nothing here."
"I assume it's this room," Jasmine said, gesturing at the wall in front of them.
"What? There's nothing there!" Hermione insisted.
Sirius smirked. "That's because I created a specially warded room where all of the portraits could interact. Only those with Black heritage can see the door, and since Jasmine's grandmother was a Black, it's visible to her." His smirk turned to a slight frown when he added, "Unfortunately, that means Tonks can see it as well, so I've had to lock it so that only permitted people can enter, just in case she comes up here.
"Oooh!" Hermione said, suddenly interested in the magic behind such an effect.
"Fortunately, I gave myself the ability to bring in guests," Sirius said as he took Hermione by the arm and opened the door. "You're the only other person keyed into the room, Jasmine," he said over his shoulder to his goddaughter, "so you can bring in guests too. But I recommend no one but Hermione."
Jasmine agreed, but Hermione had stopped paying attention because she was looking around a room filled with faces peering out from magical portraits. Apparently, every Black portrait had come for the occasion.
"Jasmine, Hermione," Sirius said as he walked to one larger portrait located in the center of the far wall, "Allow me to introduce my late mother, Walburga Black. Mother, this is Jasmine Dorea Potter and Hermione Jean Granger."
Both Jasmine and Hermione froze momentarily before they remembered their lessons with Neville and curtseyed, giving the formal greetings that were expected for the lady of a house.
Both Sirius and his mother looked impressed. "That was done quite well," Walburga observed. "I'm surprised that either of you are familiar with the niceties of etiquette, especially you, Miss Granger."
"Before the Yule Ball last year," Jasmine explained, "we were tutored by Neville Longbottom in both dancing and social customs."
"Ah!" Walburga said. "That was a good idea. Longbottom... Longbottom... My cousin Callidora married a Longbottom. Good family. I'm glad to see that they are doing right by teaching and explaining our traditions to those not blessed to have been raised in our society."
Apparently not wanting to see this comment lead to any arguments, Sirius quickly began explaining how the room was used to share information that might be useful in protecting the House or in opposing the family's enemies.
"Share information?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking a little worried. "If portraits are forbidden from giving information to people, can they still share that information with other portraits? Since, after all, portraits aren't people?"
Sirius furrowed his brow for a moment before conceding that they could, immediately causing both witches to start to panic.
Walburga cut in just then. "While it is true that they can, in theory, communicate things, that doesn't mean they are always able to do so." The expression on her face gave Jasmine and Hermione the distinct impression that the portrait was aware of far more than she was saying.
"Just so you know," she continued, "I had a talk with Aquila, one of the portraits currently in the library, and he's made sure that everyone gives you privacy. In the future, any discussions you have in the library will not be listened in on."
Hermione put her hand on Jasmine's shoulder while Sirius frowned. "Am I missing something here?" he asked the room. "Is there something going on that someone should tell me?"
Walburga cocked an eyebrow when Sirius directed his annoyed gaze at her. Finally she said, "I can neither confirm nor deny that there is anything going on. If there were, however, it would be up to Jasmine and Hermione to tell you."
Sirius then turned to the two younger witches, fixing them with an expectant look. "There are things we know which you don't," Hermione reluctantly said, "but we're not prepared to tell everyone everything about us."
When she saw that Sirius looked hurt, Jasmine added, "Some things are a bit too personal to easily talk about, Sirius."
"But my evil mother's portrait can know?" Sirius asked petulantly, earning him a scowl from his mother and exasperated huffs from both witches.
"No, Sirius," Hermione responded. "I think I can safely say that your mother doesn't truly know anything. It's not something that portraits can truly learn." Walburga frowned in confusion, but Sirius and the girls were too focused on each other to notice.
"Oh, very well!" Sirius finally said before ushering them over to a table in the center of the room. "Because of the portraits here, I actually know more about what's going on with the Death Eaters than the Order does. Unfortunately, there's so little going on that I don't know much more — and what extra I do know isn't worth passing on."
Once they were seated, he continued, "But that's not why I brought you here. You know that the room exists and that information flows through here, and that's enough. The main reason why I brought you here is to discuss the possibility of formally adopting you, Jasmine."
Both Jasmine and Hermione stared wide-eyed at Sirius, not having expected anything like this.
"Why, Sirius?" Jasmine asked.
"There are a number of reasons," Sirius answered, "but the most important reason is that I'd like to do a better job of taking care of you, kiddo. I've made some bad decisions when it comes to how I comport myself as your godfather. I'd like to start over and start doing a better job — but as an adoptive father rather than as a sometime father figure. If you'll have me, that is."
Jasmine stared hard at the table and had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself. For so many years, the idea of being adopted had been a recurring dream of hers. She had so often wished that someone — anyone — would take her away and make her a part of their family. That, however, had been before she had learned that her family had a bit of a heritage — and that she had more than a bit of a destiny.
Looking back up, she said, "Being taken in by someone who would love me has been a dream of mine for years. But..." she paused, and it seemed as though every portrait in the room was holding its breath. "But what about being a Potter? I... I don't think I'd want to give up my last name. I didn't know my parents, but they did give their lives to protect me."
Sirius smiled sadly. "Your father was practically my brother, and I'd never suggest you do anything that would disrespect him or your mother. You wouldn't have to abandon the Potter name, but it would require adopting the Black name as well. So you'd have to use some sort of hyphenated variation, like Potter-Black."
Jasmine looked thoughtful at this. "I... I guess I could see doing that. It's a big step, though."
"It will help you both," Walburga interjected. "If Sirius never has children, the Black family will be continued through you rather than through Draco Malfoy. Right now you could inherit everything as his goddaughter and Dorea's granddaughter, but the Malfoys could contest it and tie things up in the courts for a while. Being adopted by Sirius would prevent that. At the same time, you get ready access to money and political status — and remember, political status is a form of protection."
Sirius looked annoyed at her interference, but Jasmine asked, "Why is it so important to you? And why are you trying to be so helpful?"
"As I'm sure Sirius informed you," Walburga answered, "you're the granddaughter of my favorite aunt. I feel some obligation to help you as a distant member of our House."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and said, "That may be true, but there's more, isn't there?"
Jasmine nodded in agreement. "No offense, but I have trouble believing that you'd go to all of this effort," she gestured around the room, "just because of a name."
Walburga smiled at the two witches and said, "Very good. I'm glad to see that you're paying attention and not taking what others say at face value. Having an heir to the House — someone reliable and trustworthy — is important. I and others would like to see the House of Black become great again. I think you have the potential to achieve that. Granted, you'll need more education and plenty of help, but I think you have far more potential than anyone else related to the House in quite a long time."
After giving them a moment to consider that she added, "The Potter family lost a lot of its power and influence. The Blacks, however, can still command political respect, and we still have our seat on the Wizengamot."
Jasmine frowned. "That's not exactly a selling point with me right now. Most of what I've seen with the Ministry and the Wizengamot, I don't like. I mean, there are a few good people, but for the most part they aren't the sort I'd want to associate with. Why would I want to bother sitting on the Wizengamot, anyway?"
"Oh?" Walburga said. "And I take it that you think magical society today is perfect? No need for improvement?"
"Absolutely not!" Jasmine exclaimed. "A lot of it is horrid!"
"And what do you intend to do about that?" Walburga asked pointedly.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Do you intend to simply run away to avoid British magical society, since you think it's so flawed?" the portrait clarified. "Do you intend to stay and just live with it? Or are you going to make changes?"
"Changes?" Jasmine repeated. "I'm only fifteen! Why should I be asked to…. Oh, Merlin, not this again!" Jasmine banged her head on the table.
"Again?" When Hermione just shook her head, the portrait arched an eyebrow but continued. "Age is irrelevant. If you see things that you think desperately need to be changed, you should begin preparing yourself now because the sooner you get started, the sooner you'll succeed."
"Is it really necessary for me to get involved with the government, though?" Jasmine asked, sounding almost dejected.
In answer, Walburga posed a question of her own. "How are major social, cultural, and political changes made?"
Everyone was silent for a moment, then Hermione started to raise her hand. Abruptly remembering that she wasn't actually in a classroom, she sheepishly lowered it again and said, "Either from the inside or from the outside. Changes made from the inside are often less violent; changes made from the outside tend to be more so. The latter usually take the form of revolutions as political outsiders force changes on a system that can't or won't change itself. Not all revolutions are violent, but they often are."
Walburga inclined her head. "If the changes are significant enough, violence is almost inevitable at some point, regardless of where the changes start. Entrenched interest groups rarely give up their power and privileges without a fight, often using the law itself to impose their will — as you yourself have recently experienced — but also going outside the law if they think it will benefit them. So if you want to make major changes, you'll need to be prepared for violence — and possibly to use violence, in case things go badly. Still, how much violence there is will depend a great deal on how successful you are at making changes non-violently within the system." She then looked directly at Jasmine. "Does that answer your question about why it's necessary to get involved in the government?"
Jasmine gulped and nodded. "But... why me?"
Walburga sighed. "It's history. It's life. You either accept what others impose upon you, or you fight to be free to do what you will. What sort of witch do you intend to be? Are you going to be the kind who meekly accepts the restrictions that others tell you are good for you? Are you going to allow others to impose their will on you, making you their pawn? Or are you going to be the sort of witch who decides for herself what's good for her, and what kind of life she'll lead?"
She looked back and forth between both girls before continuing, "Will you allow a bad system to lumber on, heedless of the harm it's causing? Or do you trust yourself enough to exercise your will and intent on the world around you, making changes that reflect what you know to be right and good?"
Somehow, she'd known exactly what to say to ignite a positive response. Even as Sirius stared at his mother's portrait, clearly wondering where such words were coming from, Jasmine and Hermione were sitting up a little straighter, looking at each other with grim determination. "Maybe it's just one more thing to do," Jasmine said, "or maybe it will all be the same project. Either way, though, I think we'll stand a better chance of changing things if we have more tools to use."
Now Sirius was eyeing the two young witches, wondering what they could possibly be referring to. "I agree," Hermione said. "We should at least try to work within the system, if we have an opportunity to do so from a position of strength. If it doesn't prove useful, then hopefully we won't have lost much."
"And if working within the government doesn't help," Jasmine concluded, "we'll have other tools to use, and we won't have to feel guilty about it."
Later, after Sirius and the girls had left, Phineas Nigellus got Walburga's attention and said, "I agree that those two are quite interesting, but aside from the familial connection I still don't understand why you are so vociferous in your support, or why you see so much potential in them."
Walburga hid a smirk, recognizing that Phineas had yet to realize what she and a few of the other portraits had figured out. "Isn't it obvious?" she answered. "From everything I've heard and observed, it seems to me that both she and her friend would like to see fundamental changes made to magical government and society. I think she wanted such changes even before she got caught up in that trial, but now that she's personally experienced how corrupt the Ministry is, it's become even more important.
"With a bit of help from us, she'll be able to use politics and the law, but her past behavior shows that she's not afraid to step outside the rules when she thinks it's necessary — even to the point of violence — because she regards her own ideals as higher and more important than the literal legal code. So she'll go to great lengths to make the changes she deems necessary — including taking actions that others would condemn as wrong, immoral, illegal, or dark. She's even got her own inner circle of allies and supporters, both at school and abroad."
Phineas' eyes widened in surprise as he took in what she was saying. "You're not suggesting..."
"She's a Dark Lady," Walburga stated emphatically. "Or at least, she's on her way to becoming one, especially with the right guidance."
"She's hardly dark!" Phineas scoffed. "She may not worship the literal text of the law like some do, but that's a long way from being even remotely dark."
"Granted, she's not exactly a... traditionalist Dark Lady," Walburga conceded, "but otherwise she fits the common criteria well enough. As you and I both know, 'dark' is usually accepted by the masses as whatever the current Ministry defines as dark. Since it's this same Ministry that generally labels someone as a 'dark lord' or 'dark lady,' that's good enough. You and I might disagree with how the Ministry defines what is dark, but I think I can set aside that particular difference of opinion in this case. What's important is that she won't be one of the sheep, simply accepting what she's told."
She let Phineas think about that for a moment before going on, "If the current Ministry thought that they needed to silence her, I'm quite sure that they would label Jasmine Dorea as dark given the spells she's learned, even if they're only grey. They're violent and more than a bit extreme for someone her age — that would be plenty for the right propaganda writer. What's more, if she's willing to use such spells now, what will she be using in a few years? If she were to then also declare her opposition to our current political and social system, along with her intention to reshape it according to her own vision, do you honestly think they wouldn't denounce her as the next Dark Lady?"
Phineas' brow furrowed in thought before he finally conceded the point. "She may not be dark by any measure I acknowledged while I was alive, but I guess it's a testimony to just how bad things are now that someone as relatively light as her would probably get such a label. I will admit, though, that she does arguably have an inner circle already, one that nearly started a revolt in Hogwarts in order to fight for what they believed to be right." Phineas chuckled briefly at the memory. "You should have seen Dumbledore afterwards — he was fit to be tied, but he couldn't do a thing about it!"
Walburga smiled back, glad that he was finally starting to see the light. Or the dark. But then he had to go and ruin it by adding, "I'm just not comfortable with the witches-only aspect of it all. I mean... witches? Really?"
Walburga raised an eyebrow and stepped forward in her frame, as if to reach out to his. "And what's wrong with witches, Phineas?" she asked dangerously.
"Oh, um, nothing — nothing at all, really," Phineas stammered, clearly afraid that perhaps she could indeed reach across and grab him.
Walburga nodded. "There had better not be. She will probably push for reforms that differ greatly from what you and I might prefer, but our time is past. We have an obligation to support the current, living members of the Black family in their ambitions while guiding them in a way that's consistent with the historical values of our noble House. Given Jasmine Dorea's background, we are very limited in what we can do when it comes to the latter part, but we can try — and that means getting involved.
"And the fact that she'd be treated as a Dark Lady by the current Ministry will make that easier for many of us," Phineas noted, trying to placate Walburga, "even if the label's justification seems a bit weak from our perspective."
"We are Slytherin," Walburga stated. "Our ambition doesn't need to be shackled to any particular ideology, nor must our cunning be used exclusively on behalf of what our personal preferences were while we were alive. She and her... friend are the future, and we'll be helping the House of Black by helping them."
After a pause, Walburga said slowly, "Besides, the label may not be entirely weak from our perspective."
"Oh?" Phineas asked with a frown.
Walburga hesitated, unsure about whether she should share any of this. Finally, she said, "I must insist that you keep what I am about to tell you to yourself, unless I give you permission to communicate it to others. Do you understand?" The magic of the Black family washed over Phineas' portrait, and he nodded stiffly. "You know how Dumbledore's expressed some concerns about the amount of power Jasmine Dorea seems to have?"
"Yes, and I'm keeping a watch for anything else along those lines, just as you've asked me to," Phineas said. "Aside from what happened in the library the other day, though, I've yet to see any substance behind his concerns. I've been inclined to treat them as mostly just rumors, exaggeration, or misunderstandings."
Walburga shook her head. "No, it's much more than that. I've been gathering information on them for months now. They can both cast the siege engine spell multiple times with minimal rest — and that's not the only high-level spell they are capable of, either. Jasmine Dorea fought off dozens of merpeople under the Black Lake while maintaining a bubblehead charm on someone else. The muggleborn has been seen at least once with glowing eyes. What's more, except for a couple of earlier reports of unusual power exhibited by Jasmine Dorea, all of those incidents occurred late during their fourth year."
Phineas grew more and more intrigued during Walburga's explanation. "That is all very interesting indeed. And it's all recent? Sudden, in fact?" When Walburga nodded, he continued, "There aren't many rituals that can boost one's magical power, and even fewer that work quickly."
"And none of them could be confused with light magic," Walburga pointed out. "Even if we ignore the stupidity of the Ministry's condemnation of all rituals regardless of their content, those involved with increasing magical power in any way are unambiguously dark."
"And difficult, too," Phineas added. "Those that work fastest are also the most dangerous. There's a good reason why so few even in our family ever attempted any of the latter. If those two young witches not only tried, but succeeded... and one of them a muggleborn, too…."
Walburga nodded. "One is a muggleborn — though I suspect she might have noble blood in her ancestry — and the other was muggle-raised but definitely has a noble background. Both entered our world completely ignorant of what they were getting into, yet they have managed some impressive feats already. What's more, neither seems to be shackled to the limited perspective and assumptions that the Ministry teaches about what is 'light' and 'dark' in magic. I think we can expect great things from both of them, and I think Jasmine Dorea will do the house of Black proud, whatever her choices ultimately are."
Saturday, August 14, 1995. Late Morning.
Since Arthur didn't have to go to work, he hung around the kitchen after breakfast to try to talk to the Grangers, hoping to get some insights into the muggle world. "So what is it, exactly, that a demotist does, again?" he asked as he sat down.
"Dentist. We basically take care of teeth," Emma tried to explain. She knew he was a sweet and kind man, but she simply could not fathom how he of all people could be put in charge of handling the misuse of muggle artifacts when he had so little understanding of anything muggle. "We clean teeth, fix damaged teeth, remove the ones too damaged to repair — that sort of thing."
"So you have your hands in other people's mouths all day?" Arthur asked, his expression a mixture of fascination and horror. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"Not really," Lindsey said. "We've both been bitten a couple of times, but usually by small kids, and it's never been too serious."
"Stress is a much bigger problem than bites," Emma put in.
"Yeah," Lindsey agreed. "Dentists are statistically prone to suicide."
"Really?" Arthur said. "I'm so sorry to hear that. We use calming draughts and cheering charms to deal with stress. What do you do?"
"We've tried several different things," Lindsey replied. "Meditation, hiking, incense... but I think that the best stress reliever has been—"
"Sensual massage," Emma interjected with a smile.
Lindsey turned to his wife and smiled back. "Yes, definitely massage."
"Massage?" Arthur asked, confused.
"Yes, uh, it's, uh..." Emma stammered, then looked to her husband for help.
"It's, well, rubbing stiff muscles until they completely relax," Lindsey explained. "Usually best done with a partner."
Emma coughed hard a few times before saying, "Yes, that's it exactly."
"My, my, what will muggles think of next?" Arthur responded dreamily. On the other side of the kitchen, Kreacher opened a door and stepped into a small room which he used, all the while muttering about blood traitors and dirty muggles.
Sunday, August 22, 1995. Morning.
Almost everyone was crying — or working hard to hide their crying — when Emma and Lindsey Granger left Grimmauld Place for France. The plan was to take a EuroStar from London to Paris via the Channel Tunnel. Once in Paris, another couple would take several hairs from the Grangers and start taking polyjuice while traveling east, eventually to disappear in Eastern Europe.
The Grangers would disguise themselves with muggle products before taking a TGV down to Nice, where they would spend a few weeks getting acclimated to the area before starting at a dental practice in a small town about halfway between Nice and the closest veela enclave. The Grangers wouldn't be able to live inside the enclave itself, but their house was just outside its boundaries, and there would also be at least a couple of veela living in the large farmhouse with them at all times. There was talk about trying to train a few veela to work in the dental practice itself, but there were also concerns about possibly exposing the muggles to the allure in such a manner.
It seemed like an elaborate plan, but it was the only one which met with Hermione's approval and kept her from accompanying them personally — that, and the fact that Fleur would be travelling with them. Fortunately, Remus' extensive help with her lesson plans had put her far enough ahead that she could afford to take time out for this trip. As worried as Hermione was about her parents, knowing that Fleur would be with them every step of the way eased her fears a great deal. As the only magical accompanying them, she was carrying all of the shrunken furniture and personal possessions which had been retrieved from the Granger house by an Order team led by Arthur.
Neither he nor Mrs. Weasley were there to see the Grangers off, which Jasmine had found strange until Sirius explained to her that the 22nd was Percy's birthday. According to Sirius, Mrs. Weasley was still taking the huge argument they'd had with him very hard, especially since they'd yet to have any contact with him since he stormed out of the Burrow.
"I'm going to miss you so much, Mum," Hermione sobbed as she and her mother competed to see which of them could squish the other first.
"I'll miss you too, sweetheart," her mother responded. "I'm sorry that we won't be there to see you off at the train station this year."
While the two Granger women were doing this, Jasmine and Lindsey were standing a little awkwardly to the side. "So, uh," Jasmine said, "you're all packed? Remembered everything?"
He nodded.
"Got a towel?"
Lindsey grinned at that. When he noticed that she seemed completely serious, he asked, "Do you know what that means?"
"Not particularly," she answered with a shrug. "It's just something Hermione likes to ask when we're getting packed and ready for the Hogwarts Express. I always thought it was a little weird, to be perfectly honest."
Lindsey snorted. "Figures. Seems there's some books I need to get for you." After a moment, he continued, "Thank you again for coming to help us, Jasmine. We all owe you a lot."
"No, you don't owe me anything — I did what anyone else would have…."
Lindsey shook his head. "I doubt that. What you did was special, and it's because you and our Hermione are so close. I'm glad for that."
Jasmine smiled a little shyly before she was pulled into a tight hug from Emma while Hermione hugged her father goodbye. "Please keep taking good care of my little girl," she said to Jasmine. "She means everything to me, and I know she's important to you, too." The green-eyed witch had no idea where this show of emotion had come from, but she hugged the elder Granger woman back and promised to watch out for Hermione as much as she could.
"Honestly, though, she probably watches out for me more," she admitted quietly.
Once the Grangers and Fleur had left, Hermione and Jasmine went straight for the library, where Jasmine tried to keep Hermione distracted, though without much success.
Wednesday, August 25, 1995. Night.
"We're simply going to have to tell him," Sirius finally said to the portrait of his mother.
Said portrait was pacing furiously back and forth in her frame — behavior that was quite uncharacteristic of her. "I don't like it," she responded. "I don't like it at all. I've never thought that we can trust him, and everything I've learned in the past few months makes me distrust him even more."
Sirius snorted. "Distrust? After I got done telling you about everything Jasmine and her friends had written, you started making plans to have him killed!"
"And?" Walburga asked. "If even half of what they said was true, can you honestly tell me I was wrong?"
"Tempting as that might be," Sirius said, his voice overriding her, "the fact remains that we need him. And the whole point of this conversation is that we're facing an issue where I doubt that anyone else in wizarding Britain can help."
Suddenly Walburga's portrait gave Sirius a genuine smile — one of the few he'd ever seen on her face. "Good, I'm glad to hear that — it shows you're learning. Use your enemies for your own purposes, and when they're no longer useful, then you eliminate them — preferably in as painful a manner as possible. Just so long as you never trust them."
Sirius shook his head ruefully at his mother's attitude, and not for the first time. "Don't worry, I don't trust him. Except for one thing, though: I do trust that he is completely and unreservedly opposed to Voldemort. So I'm pretty sure that he will use our information properly to help finally destroy—"
For some reason, "He Who Has No Balls" popped into his mind just then, though fortunately he managed to bite it back in time — somehow he doubted his mother would approve. "...that evil bastard," he finished instead.
"Only 'pretty sure'?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.
Sirius shrugged. "He's a politician. If there's some sort of angle to doing it in a way that benefits his overall agenda, I'm sure he'll give it serious consideration, even if that way of doing it is not quite in the best interests of others. The end goal is important enough that I'm willing to run that risk, though."
Walburga sighed and sat heavily in the chair that had been painted into her frame. "And I can't deny that we've failed to come up with much on our own. Even if he hasn't figured out that the Dark Lord used horcruxes, Albus Dumbledore has enough knowledge and contacts that he should be able to make more progress than we have."
"More than anyone else I can think of, at any rate," Sirius added.
"Very well," Walburga said reluctantly. "You have another Order meeting tomorrow night, do you not?" When Sirius nodded, she continued, "Then before it starts, tell him that you have something vital to discuss with him and insist that he talk with you privately after the meeting. Don't take no for an answer. Take him to the sitting room, and I'll make sure that Adhara is in her small tabletop frame so we can talk later about his reaction. Demand that you be included in any efforts to find and destroy those vile things, at least insofar as your fugitive status allows for it."
She thought for a few moment, then added, "Also, argue that Jasmine Dorea needs to be told about this, since she has had to face the Dark Lord so many times. Argue, but don't insist. Allow yourself to be persuaded, at least temporarily, if he refuses... and I'm sure he will. But stand firm on the other points."
Sirius smiled. This was why he had come to appreciate plotting with his mother. For all that he had hated her when he was a child, and for all that he objected to her (increasingly rare) expressions of bigotry, there were few who could plot and scheme like she could. There had been a time when he could plan fantastic pranks, but his years in Azkaban had dulled his mind, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get back that sharpness that he could tell was lacking.
Working with his mother, though — even if it was only a portrait of her — helped ensure that he could still get things done. And the fact that everyone else thought she was a ranting, raving lunatic meant that he was still able to enjoy pranking the entire Order on some level, even if they never found out.