A/N: As always, 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, don't hesitate 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 "19th September" by sprinter1988. It's Hermione's birthday, so she should be happy, right? Well, she tries. She tries very, very hard, but things simply do not go the way she had hoped. Not for Ron fans. Really.

Italics: a person's thoughts.

Chapter 18 - Cleanin' Out My Closet

Wednesday, September 15, 1995, Morning.

"You!" came a screech as Jasmine felt a hand grab her shoulder and pull her around in her seat at the Gryffindor table, where she'd been eating breakfast with her friends. Shocked at the sudden noise and rough treatment, she looked up to see the face of Dolores Umbridge, twisted into a rictus of fury and hatred. If it hadn't been for all the pink, she might have been almost unrecognizable.

"How dare you!" she screeched again as she shoved a copy of the most recent Quibbler in Jasmine's face. "How dare you attack the Ministry and wizarding society like this!" The hand that had grabbed her shoulder started squeezing even harder. "I thought I understood how much of a threat you pose, but clearly I underestimated just how evil the two of you are," she hissed, looking back and forth between Jasmine and Hermione now. "I had thought it would be enough to simply remove you from Hogwarts and wizarding society, but clearly far more drastic measures will be necessary!"

"Madam Umbridge!" Dumbledore said with uncharacteristic sharpness as he approached from the head table. "You are not permitted to physically assault the students!" Umbridge gave an extra-hard squeeze before withdrawing her hand, and Jasmine had to roll her shoulder to relieve the pain from her claw-like grip. It was only then that Ginny and Neville could let go of Gabrielle, no longer needing to hold her back from launching herself at Umbridge.

"Excuse me, Headmaster," the pink witch responded. "I was simply interrogating this student about this article." She now shoved the Quibbler in Dumbledore's direction. "Did you know anything about it?"

He looked down at the offending journal with mild interest. "Yes, I saw it yesterday, which I believe was the day it was made available."

"And?" she demanded. When Dumbledore simply raised a questioning eyebrow in reply, she continued in an even angrier tone. "What are you going to do about this?"

"Do?" he asked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Yes, do!" she cried. "This is sedition! This is libel! This trash should be banned, and those responsible must be punished!"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully as he looked at her. "As I seem to recall, everything in there is factually accurate. Well, except perhaps for the article about snorkacks, but I think that qualifies more as speculation than sedition."

Umbridge looked flustered for a moment, then charged on ahead. "It's sedition because it makes fools out of the Minister and the Ministry!"

"And Dolores Umbridge," Jasmine stage-whispered before Hermione could stop her.

"Yes!" the pink witch agreed. "And Dolores... you!" she shouted as she turned back to the students sitting at the Gryffindor table. "This is your fault!"

"Madam Umbridge," Dumbledore said forcefully, trying to draw her attention away from the students. "What you are holding is a legally published journal. I have no authority to ban it from the school simply because you disagree with some of the contents. I similarly have no authority to punish a student for any sort of involvement with such articles. As I was reminded recently, I have no authority over students outside of this school and so can neither punish nor reward them for anything they do during the summer holidays."

Umbridge looked as though she were about to explode, but then all the anger seemed to abruptly evaporate, and she looked as calm as Dumbledore. "Very well," she said in a tight, controlled voice that belied her real feelings. "We'll see what happens soon enough." She then spun on her heel and stalked out of the Great Hall with everyone's eyes on her back.

"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said as he looked down at the students. "Please do try to control yourself in the future."

"Sorry," she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. He simply shook his head and strode back to the head table to finish his breakfast.

Thursday, September 18, 1995, Morning.

Before Jasmine, Hermione, and their friends entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, they witnessed Filch attaching something to one of the walls of the entranceway outside the Great Hall. When he was done, they found that it was an educational decree.

"According to this, 'Red Howlers are forbidden on the premises.'" Hermione said aloud. "Why would howlers be forbidden? Not that I'm complaining — they're awful things that no parent should use, but still... why now?"

"That's Umbridge's signature," Neville pointed out. "But why would she bother with something like that?"

"I heard her office got flooded with howlers," they heard Daphne say, not realizing that she'd come up behind them. "Someone else in Slytherin was outside her door when a bunch of them went off. He couldn't quite make out what they were all saying, but he was sure that at least some of them had to do with articles that appeared in The Quibbler."

"Serves her right," Jasmine muttered.

"This is probably only the beginning," Ron said. When the others turned to look at him, he went on, "Well, think about it. As far as I know, no one here on staff has ever tried to stop them, much less ban them outright. None of them did anything after the Howler I got second year. But as soon as she gets a few, she's able to ban them."

"So we know that she can and will ban something if it bothers her enough," Hermione finished, realization dawning.

Neville nodded. "We can probably expect more like this, because I've yet to see anything that she doesn't dislike."

Gabrielle frowned as she ate breakfast and thought about what Neville had said. Umbridge seeks to eliminate whatever she doesn't like, especially if it challenges her, she thought. She seems to hate Jasmine and has already tried to get her kicked out of Britain's magical community once, but now it's clear that she will change the rules or create new ones just to further her goals. So it doesn't matter if the path to getting rid of Jasmine is legal or not — Umbridge will make it legal if she finds a plan she thinks will work.

Gabrielle was somewhat torn by the prospect of Jasmine being forced out of magical Britain. If they could save her wand and belongings, she could be easily smuggled into France, where she could safely pursue fulfilling the Great Prophecy without having to worry about narrow-minded British wizards and ridiculous British laws. On the other hand... Jasmine didn't want to be kicked out of Britain. For some reason, she wanted to stay here, at least for now.

So I'll have to help her stay, Gabrielle concluded. At least until she sees reason and moves somewhere that will be more welcoming to her and her partner. France isn't perfect, but it would be much better, and there isn't a single veela enclave in the world that wouldn't welcome them with open arms. But if she's going to stay... Umbridge will have to go.

Friday, September 18, 1995, Late Afternoon.

Sirius looked down at the documents that he'd been staring at for the past few hours, ever since shortly after the Gringotts owl delivered them and he had taken them up to the warded portrait room. His mother had been uncharacteristically patient as she watched him, seemingly sympathetic to his distress. She blasted me off of the family tree without a second thought, he thought sourly, but now she has no problem with my reluctance to officially expel two of her three nieces from the family?

Finally he sighed and picked up the quill. "I don't know why this is so difficult," he said aloud. "Especially when it comes to Bellatrix — if anyone ever deserved to be expelled from the Black family, it's her." Slowly, he began to sign his name at the half-dozen places which the goblins had marked for him. "Even by your standards, Mother," he continued, "her oaths of loyalty to You-Know-Who and her Dark Mark should be more than enough to exclude her from the House of Black."

She didn't say anything as he finished signing the documents and he felt a bit of magic wash over him, confirming Bellatrix's expulsion from the family. Once the documents were returned to Gringotts, they would begin the process of reclaiming Black family heirlooms as well as the dowry she had been given for her marriage.

Next he laid out another set of identical documents, this time for his cousin Narcissa. As hard as expelling Bellatrix was, doing the same to Narcissa was even harder. He abhorred her choices in life, but at least she wasn't a psychopath. Still, his mother had convinced him that it was necessary. He picked up the quill again and...

"Master Sirius?" came a hoarse voice from behind him.

Sirius turned and was surprised to see Kreacher. He was even more surprised when he registered that the foul little elf had called him "master," something he'd never done except as part of an insult. "What do you want?" he asked with a frown.

"Could... could Mistress Cissy be spared?" the house elf asked in an uncharacteristically subservient manner.

"Spared?" Sirius asked. "Why? And why are you asking?"

Kreacher pulled on and twisted his towel for a moment, then said, "Mistress Cissy is hurting and afraid. Mistress Cissy would like to be part of the Black family."

Both Sirius and Walburga narrowed their eyes at this, but Sirius was the first to respond. "How do you know this?" he demanded. "What have you been doing?"

Now Kreacher started tugging hard on his ears, but Walburga said sternly, "Answer him, Kreacher."

"Mistress Cissy has called Kreacher, yes she has. Mistress Cissy was always nice to Kreacher, so Kreacher came and Kreacher helped. Mistress Cissy is suffering so, but has no one to help her. No one but poor old Kreacher, so Kreacher brings her potions and listens as she cries. Kreacher wants to do more, he does, but Kreacher can't. Kreacher's oaths force him to help members of the House of Black, but Kreacher's oaths don't let him help Mistress Cissy enough. Oh, what is Kreacher to do? What will become of Mistress Cissy?"

Sirius' frown deepened when he realized that Kreacher had been sneaking off to Narcissa and helping her. The fact that she was in pain troubled him not at all, especially given what he was about to do to her. "Kreacher," he said, "I forbid you from leaving this house without explicit permission from me. Do you understand?"

Kreacher started moaning as if he himself were in physical pain. Before Sirius could say anything else, however, his mother's portrait spoke up. "Sirius, perhaps we can use this."

"What do you mean?" he asked as he spun around to face her.

"I'm not surprised that Kreacher went to her when she called," she explained. "He's long had a soft spot for her, and she always treated him well. Now that she's apparently hurting and in trouble, of course he'd want to help her as much as his oaths and magic allow."

"And?" Sirius asked.

"Clearly she's desperate," his mother explained. "She wouldn't be calling a Black family elf otherwise. She should have her own elf, but for some reason it's not helping her. Neither are her husband or son. The situation must be bad."

"You're not suggesting that we help her, are you?" Sirius asked. "I was just about to expel her from the family — and on your recommendation, too, if you'll recall. Why would you now recommend that I help her instead?"

"I didn't say that you should help her for free," Walburga replied. Slowly, Sirius began to smile, and Kreacher wondered if perhaps he'd just made things even worse for his Mistress Cissy.

Saturday, September 18, 1995, Evening.

Albus Dumbledore noted the suspicious looks that Jasmine Potter cast around his office as she walked through his door. That didn't surprise him in the least; what did surprise him was the fact that she was accompanied by her best friend. "Miss Potter," he said as the two young witches approached his desk. "Perhaps my message wasn't clear, but my invitation was to you alone." Turning to the second visitor, he said, "Miss Granger, I'm sorry that you wasted your time, but you'll need to return to your common room."

He had assumed that they would simply do as he said, especially since they had learned at the end of last month just what could happen when his instructions were ignored. Instead, they merely looked at each other, then back at him before Jasmine said, "I'm sorry, Headmaster, but whatever you have to say to me, you might as well say to Hermione too, because if I'm here alone, I'll just end up telling her later. Better that she get the information directly."

"Just because she has to face down Voldemort doesn't mean that she'll do it alone," Hermione added. "I expect to be with her every step of the way, right through to the end. Anything she needs to know in order to fulfill that prophecy, I'll need to know, too. I've spent the past four years working to keep her alive — I'm hardly going to quit now."

Dumbledore frowned. "Miss Potter, some of the things I need to tell you must be kept as secret as possible if we are to have any hope of defeating Voldemort."

"Then she and I will both have to keep your secrets," Jasmine said simply.

Sighing with exasperation, Dumbledore rose and walked over to the windows behind his desk. Looking over the Hogwarts grounds at night, he despaired over having to deal with pushy witches and wondered how they had gotten to this point. Well, he quickly realized, the answer is obvious: they don't trust me or my counsel, not any more. Not even after what happened to Miss Granger. It pained him to have lost the trust of someone he knew to be so vitally important to the future of wizarding Britain, but he also knew that most if not all of the responsibility rested with him. Somehow, decisions which had made so much sense at the time had turned around on him to cause him no end of trouble.

Slowly, he turned back to the two witches and looked upon them with a critical eye. I cannot say for sure how the final confrontation will go, he considered, nor if I'll even be there for it. Miss Granger's intelligence and loyalty may be necessary in helping Miss Potter complete her task successfully. They've certainly proven necessary many times so far. And since turning Miss Potter away from a dark, violent path may not work if Miss Granger encourages her in that direction, then maybe it's for the best if I hold these sessions with both.

"Very well," he said as he returned to his desk, summoning a second chair for the unexpected student before he himself sat down. "I shall do what I can to accommodate you, if you insist on doing this together." Both witches nodded as they sat.

"Before we begin, though, I wanted to ask if you wished to continue any part of our prior conversation," Dumbledore said. "I realize that it might not be pleasant, but it might also be necessary if we are going to work together going forward."

They looked unhappy and ill at ease, but Jasmine spoke first. "No... no, I don't think so. I'm trying to accept that you had no malicious intentions, but that doesn't mean that I'm satisfied with the excuses you offered. Even assuming that you had the best of intentions in every instance, you still made horrible mistakes with me — with both of us, in fact — and yet you still want us to learn from you and follow your lead."

"And that's on top of the fact that, by all accounts... well, you weren't exactly winning the last war, were you?" Hermione added, looking a bit uncomfortable to be pointing this out, but forging ahead anyway.

"Right," Jasmine said. "We don't claim to know everything, but we're also not prepared to simply take everything you say on faith." Her face hardened. "I swore I'd never be a victim again, but I won't be a puppet, either."

Dumbledore grimaced, more than a little annoyed at being so challenged by two underaged witches. At the same time, though, he couldn't refute their accusations. It's all true, he conceded silently. I'm going to have to work every step of the way to earn their trust, something that I haven't had to do in many decades. Actively questioning everything is a good quality in an advanced student, but it's not so attractive in a student who needs to be guided by one who knows more than they do.

"That is, of course, your decision," Dumbledore responded finally. "However, I hope that over time — over the course of these lessons, in fact — you will come to trust me a little bit more. I don't deny that I am not perfect, but I have been doing this for a long time."

He then proceeded to show them how to use a pensieve, an enchanted device which fascinated Hermione to no end, and took them into a memory of a Ministry official who had been called to deal with a member of a family named Gaunt. It took Jasmine a few minutes, but she finally remembered that Marvolo Gaunt shared a name with Tom Riddle. That was when Dumbledore explained that they had just witnessed Voldemort's maternal relatives: a witch who was barely above a squib, and two inbred blood bigots who possessed a great deal of pride and arrogance, but almost no gold or other resources.

"So, that's where Voldemort comes from," Jasmine said in a whisper after they had exited the memory.

"Yes and no," Dumbledore responded. "That was his fam... er, perhaps I should say, those were his relatives. You even got a glimpse of his father for a moment there. However, he did not grow up with them, so it's hard to say what, if any, influence they could have had on the development of Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort."

"I'm assuming that he knew about all of these people, though, right?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes, indeed," Dumbledore responded. "He didn't learn the details until a few years after he started attending Hogwarts, but he eventually discovered his origins."

"Then they still had an influence, even if indirectly," Hermione said. "First from their absence, then from the search, then finally from his reactions to what he found."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "That's very perceptive of you, Miss Granger. Yes, you're right, these relatives did have an impact on the development of Tom Riddle, even if not in any of the usual, obvious ways."

After discussing Tom Riddle's childhood for a bit longer, Dumbledore announced that he had a couple of other memories to show them and, once he had deposited them into his pensieve, led them into the middle of a memory of a pitched battle in a small village. Lethal spells were flying back and forth while houses burned in the background. The devastation was terrible, and both witches wanted to be sick when they saw all the mangled, cursed bodies of dead combattants lying in the streets.

Soon the battle was over, and while it appeared that the attackers had lost, it was a pyrrhic victory at best, judging by how many defenders were on the ground, bleeding or dead. It wasn't long before a much younger-looking Dumbledore himself appeared in the memory, inspecting the damage and talking to the survivors.

"Sir!" said a uniformed wizard who approached Dumbledore. "The attack was driven back, but we took a lot of casualties. It's lucky that we had time to evacuate the civilians. I don't understand, though, sir. Why here? There's nothing of value here."

The young Dumbledore stood quietly for a moment before saying, "I suspect it was a feint. Send word to our other outposts to see if any of them don't respond. If so, let me know immediately and prepare for reinforcements to be sent to that location. That's where we'll find the main thrust of Grindelwald's attack."

The memory dissolved into a different battle in a different village — different, yet the same. Jasmine and Hermione could see many of the same spells being used and the same wounds on the fallen. Even the faces of the fallen scarcely looked any different.

After a series of four memories, Dumbledore pulled them back out, and the two young witches sat heavily in their chairs. Both looked quite ill after seeing so much death and destruction on such a personal level.

"Why... why did you show us that?" Jasmine asked.

"Why do you think, Miss Potter?" Dumbledore asked cryptically.

"I suspect you just wanted to see us get sick at the sight of battle," Jasmine said sarcastically, but she was surprised to see Dumbledore nod. "What, really?"

"Well, not exactly," Dumbledore admitted, "but it's not too far off the truth. That's all I'll say on the matter for now. Perhaps we'll talk about it more next time." Recognizing that as a dismissal, Jasmine and Hermione left the headmaster's office looking shaken.

At least they weren't exhilarated and excited by the battle, Dumbledore thought once they were gone. It's good to see that they are still capable of abhorring such death and destruction... that they aren't so far gone that they no longer give any consideration to how warfare destroys human lives. Perhaps there is hope for them yet.

Sunday, September 19, 1995, Late Morning.

"So, that's when my mother advised that I come talk to you about it," Sirius explained. "When she first recommended that I do it, I was surprised. Then I was excited and looking forward to it. Finally, when it came time to do it... well, it was suddenly a lot harder than I ever imagined it would be."

Elladora's portrait hummed in understanding. "The power to expel someone from a family like ours is not something to be used lightly. It cannot be undone, and it sunders bonds of blood which cannot be remade. This is why it is a power only rarely invoked. I'm surprised Walburga recommended it."

"Not as surprised as I am," Sirius replied. "She blasted my name off of the family tree, after all, and would have expelled me officially if she could have, but now she's working with me and relying on me, thus proving how awful of a decision it would have been to expel me."

"I'm not sure that the two situations are entirely comparable," Elladora said, "but it's not an unreasonable point. Regardless, what matters here is the fact that you went along with the suggestion, not that she made it. Why did you?"

"I... I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," Sirius admitted. "My mother was sure that it would help protect Jasmine, which is more than enough reason, but I'm not convinced how much protection it will provide. I'm sure she has other reasons that she's not saying, but I can't figure out what they might be."

"And so you feel guilty about it?" Elladora prodded.

"Sort of," Sirius responded with a shrug. "If we'd met in battle, I'd have cursed Bellatrix without a second thought, and if she died I wouldn't have lost any sleep. But to expel her from the family... feels different. I guess family can fight, but they are still family. Expulsion says that you're not only not family anymore, but you never were. There was a time when I didn't hate Bellatrix, but now... now I've said that she was never family, not even back then."

"And you have so few good memories of your blood family that it feels wrong to reject what little is there?"

"That's it exactly," Sirius said. "Yes, I think that's my problem right now. I didn't just reject Bellatrix as she is now, the psycho killer, but all she ever was, even when she was a fun-loving and precocious little girl."

"Which is why the power of expulsion is so great," Elladora pointed out. "But didn't Bellatrix reject the Black family first? Didn't she turn her back on all Blacks by taking that awful mark?"

"Yeah, there is that," Sirius agreed. "It's just about the only thing that makes this bearable."

"Perhaps you should focus on that for now," she advised. "Then later do something to say goodbye to the Bellatrix who was. Something like a memorial service, perhaps?"

"Hmmm... that's not a bad idea," Sirius said as he stared out at nothing, thinking about her suggestion.

"I was wondering," Elladora said, changing topics, "how you're getting along with your goddaughter and her friend?"

"Oh, that's going great," Sirius said, happy for a chance to talk about something pleasant. "We didn't have nearly enough time together this summer, but what time we did have was good."

"You don't have any problems with her being such close friends with a muggleborn?" she asked.

"Don't tell me that you buy into all of that pureblood bigotry? I thought you were different!"

Elladora looked like she was trying to be patient. "This isn't about me, Sirius, it's about you. However, if it's important for you to know, I'll admit that while I was alive, I absorbed more than a little bit of prejudice against muggleborns. It would have been impossible not to as a member of the Black family at that time. However, it was never an active hatred or animosity. It was more... passive. It was a background assumption that I took for granted but never thought much about because I never had to. Muggleborns were rare, and I don't think I ever talked to one while I was at Hogwarts. At least, not that I knew."

Sirius nodded slowly, starting to see what she meant.

"If it helps," she continued, "Jasmine's muggleborn friend seems like a nice, decent person as well as a powerful witch. As a portrait I cannot simply shed the prejudices I had while alive, because then I would not accurately reflect the person I was. Nevertheless, I don't have anything against her personally — despite my background prejudices, I think she is a good friend to your goddaughter."

"I guess some prejudices are hard to get rid of," Sirius offered.

"Indeed they are," she responded with a slight smile. "We all have quite a few such prejudices, and they cling to us like cobwebs from a dusty old house because we are never confronted with them — we never have to face situations where they are directly challenged. If we were, we might be forced to change and grow in ways we'd never considered."

Sirius nodded again — understanding, but also not understanding. Not yet, at any rate, Elladora mused.

Sunday, September 19, 1995, Evening.

Because her birthday fell on a weekend, Hermione was able to enjoy spending the entire day with Jasmine without having to worry about classes or pink-clad witches following them around. Dobby and Winky managed to slip in some of her favorite dishes for breakfast, after which they immediately went to the Room of Requirement, where Hermione had insisted that they finish at least a bit of homework.

Jasmine didn't mind, since they were still working from the rewards system that Hermione had instituted durng the previous term.

Lunch was served in the Room of Requirement, and this time without any oysters or spicy avocado sauce. After a bit of pushing, the girls had finally gotten the elves to admit that they had been under the impression that such dishes were aphrodisiacs, so they'd been serving them to "encourage" their mistresses. Hermione and Jasmine thanked them, then promptly told them to cut it out.

The afternoon was spent in Hermione's Hot Tub Grotto, where they could further relax from the stress of the past few days while also working up an appetite for later. They were both mussed and flushed when they came down for dinner, something they attributed to all of the extra training they had been doing — the same excuse they used for why they'd been absent all day.

It was only after dinner that a birthday party was held for Hermione, but although it was held in the Gryffindor common room like all Gryffindor birthday parties were, their friends from other houses were allowed to attend as well. That included their three friends from Slytherin, despite some noises of protest from Ron and some impressive scowling from Cormac McLaggen. The presence of Fleur gave them a chaperone, thus making the size and composition of the party a lot easier to justify.

It was a simple party consisting of cake, butterbeer, and a few presents. Gryffindors mostly gave Hermione sweets, a gift which seemed to be popular among magical teens. The main exception was the witches in her year and the the study group, all of whom got together to buy her a gift certificate to Gossypamer & Organza's. After relations had started thawing in the dorm last term, Hermione told the others about how much she loved shopping there, leading to a noticeable upswing in business for the store as other Gryffindor witches began frequenting it.

Her first real surprise was a gift from Arthur Weasley. She shot a questioning look at the Weasleys who were sitting there, but none of them had any idea what it was or why he had done it. It was only an envelope, and when she opened it she found a card with a short note from Mr. Weasley: "Since this is your OWL year, I thought you might benefit from this. I'm sure you'll enjoy taking Jasmine with you since she's surely just as stressed as you. I hope you both have loads of fun!"

Still a bit confused, she looked again at the card and felt the blood all drain out of her face when she read what it was: Kama Sutra Partners' Massage Class — a five-lesson beginner's course for two people. Covers important anatomical landmarks, safety, short massages for the back, shoulders, and feet, and happy endings.

Hermione's brain short-circuited briefly, but as soon as she sensed someone else trying to look at the card, she hurriedly tucked it back in the envelope and then stuffed the envelope in her bag.

"What was it?" Ron asked.

"Uh, just, uh, something muggle," Hermione said evasively.

"Our dad bought you something muggle?" one twin asked.

"That's unusual even for him," the other added.

"He must have gone out of his way to find it, and thought it especially suited for you," the first twin continued.

That only made Hermione more nervous, which she tried to cover up by taking a long drink of butterbeer — all of which she choked on when Ron said, "I'm sure he'll ask you all about it and demand all sorts of details whenever you're done with it."

After a confused and concerned Jasmine helped Hermione get cleaned up, the birthday girl moved on to the second surprise gift, this time from Tonks. Now more than a bit gun-shy when it came to unexpected gifts, she carefully read the attached note: "For you and your 'mysterious boyfriend' (wink, wink). I figured you deserved to have a bit of fun, and it's my sworn duty to encourage you in doing things your parents wouldn't approve of if they ever knew about it. Enjoy!"

Hermione's hands were practically shaking when she lifted the lid of the box. Once she saw the contents, she was happy that she'd only lifted the part closest to her in order to prevent anyone else from seeing inside. She had no idea what the rest of the group would think of fuzzy pink handcuffs, silk rope, flavored body paint, and a few other things she couldn't identify in the two seconds before she slammed the lid back down.

"Well, what did Tonks give you?" Fleur asked.

"Nothing!" Hermione said far too quickly. I'm going to kill Tonks! What was she thinking! Wait, does she know? Does Mr. Weasley know?

"Surely she didn't give you an empty box," Jasmine said.

"I mean, nothing important!" Hermione responded. "Nothing special!" Desperate for a distraction, she quickly grabbed the last present. "Let me open yours, Jasmine!"

"I've heard about that Tonks," Susan said to Daphne and Tracey. "She graduated the year before we arrived, but lots of Puffs still remembered and talked about her. My auntie also knows her well, since she apparently made a lot of waves during auror training. Based on the stories about her, I'll bet she gave Hermione some flimsy lingerie or something like that." Both of the other witches snickered at the thought, though they were also clearly curious about what sort of lingerie would cause Hermione to get that flustered.

Fortunately, Jasmine knew better than to give Hermione something embarrassing — in public, at least. But her gift was no less attention-grabbing for all that — a black dragonhide jacket attracts attention no matter where you are.

"Jasmine... this... this is amazing," Hermione said as she held it up to gaze at it in awe.

"I knew it would look good on you," Jasmine explained as her girlfriend stood and tried it on. "But it will also protect you, and that's even more important."

The party broke up once the non-Gryffindors had to leave for curfew. The girls went to bed early, which gave Hermione a chance to explain privately what the odd gifts were. She put all of them away for much, much later... except for the body paints. She had ideas about how she'd like to use them.

Shortly before midnight, Jasmine snuck into Hermione's bed and gave her a second gift, one that definitely couldn't be given in public. This time they were paying attention, and both saw the magical glowing lights as they formed and intertwined. Hermione would have been fascinated to see Jasmine's green and her blue lights shift to white as they blended together, but she was far too preoccupied with the matter at hand — and once her brain finally restarted, the lights were gone.

It wouldn't have mattered, though, because she fell asleep, exhausted and content, within minutes anyway.

In Malfoy Manor, Lord Voldemort was mercifully unconscious. The pain had started early that morning, waxing and waning all day until around midnight, when it grew to such an extreme that he stunned himself just so he wouldn't have to endure it anymore. Nagini wasn't much better off. She had been outside hunting when the worst of the pain hit, and so Voldemort had been too far away to even try to do anything to help her.

Somehow, she knew that her pain was connected to the strange ritual he'd performed on her over the summer. The magic of the ritual had made her larger and stronger, which was all well and good, but it had also created a connection to her master that frankly bothered her. She could feel his thoughts and emotions in ways that she found distasteful — they were too foreign, too ape-like.

As if that weren't enough, now she was experiencing the same periodic agony that she'd seen him endure since last December, and not even biting someone made that misery any easier to bear. Whatever prestige she'd thought she'd be getting by having a master who could actually speak like a civilized being, it definitely wasn't worth all this!

In Hogwarts, a disturbance of dark magic brought elves to the Come and Go room, all of them seeking to identify and contain the source of the problem, but the disturbance didn't last long enough. More and more, the head elf was leaning towards setting up a permanent, rotating watch.

In Little Hangleton, a ring hidden under the floorboards of a decrepit old shack shook violently and released a burst of dark magic which made the wooden boards buckle.

In Gringotts, one of the high-security vaults experienced a burst of dark magic which caused a large number of the magically enchanted items stored within to be disturbed.

In all three of these incidents, no one was around to hear a diadem, ring, or cup scream.

Monday, September 20, 1995, Early Morning.

Vaultmaster Ripsaw watched patiently as Nailtooth and his team moved with well-honed precision through the Lestrange vault, bypassing the extra defenses put in place by the Lestrange family so the goblin inspectors could sift through all of the coins and magical items. Late last night the special dark magic detectors which Nailtooth himself had recommended be used had started going off, and all of them pointed right at this vault as being the source.

Unfortunately they hadn't been able to get it open in time before the detectors went silent, so they sealed it back up until a full team plus curse breakers could be organized for this morning. It wouldn't do to tackle this problem too hastily, Ripsaw had concluded. We know where the problem is now, and we have the resources to deal with it; we just need to approach the problem correctly so we can solve it without unnecessary loss of life or gold.

Ripsaw was glad now that he had forwarded Nailtooth's recommendation about the dark magic detectors. It hadn't been easy to implement, given that they'd had to relocate a guard dragon, but in the end he'd been proven right that this was the only way to reliably trace the dark magic to its source. He and his team will all get nice bonuses and a promotion out of this, regardless of what happens, Ripsaw thought. And, if it turns out especially well, I may get a bonus and promotion, too.

Bit by bit, piece by piece, the collection of suspect items grew. It hadn't surprised anyone to learn that the Lestranges were storing so many dark magical items in their vault, despite the restrictions placed on such storage by Gringotts. Even so, the collection grew to an impressive size by the time they were done. After a cautious preliminary inspection, Ripsaw noted that quite a few of the items might be Black family heirlooms, which would create complications for another job which had been scheduled to be started there that day.

Ripsaw sighed impatiently and wondered why nothing could ever be easy.

Tuesday, September 21, 1995, Afternoon.

Sirius was considering checking in on Uncle Cygnus to see if he had anything to report yet when Kreacher popped in with an unexpected letter from Gringotts. Apparently, before the goblins could go through the Lestrange vault to remove Black family heirlooms and recover Bellatrix's dowry, their dark magic detectors had gone off, alerting them to proscribed dark magic items being stored in the vault. According to the report, the magic involved could not be identified except as being highly volatile and dangerous, which was why Gringotts was taking such a hard line.

A search had been performed and all suspect items removed to a separate containment vault for inspection. Among them were items believed to be Black family heirlooms, too. Since Sirius had not yet taken back possession of them, he wasn't going to be fined or otherwise held accountable, but they did want to let him know in case he wished to pay to have proscribed enchantments or other magics removed from the items; otherwise he could simply take them as-is. Sirius doubted that he'd care enough to pay for something like that, and he wasn't sure he wanted any of it at all, but he decided to let his mother see the list, just in case — she might have some insight into what set off the goblin detectors.

As an added bonus, since the magic involved was contrary to Gringotts policy, the Lestrange vault would end up taking an even bigger hit than before, and he suspected that little tidbit might brighten her day.