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.
If you haven't already, I hope you'll check out my "Harry Potter Story Fluffle," a collection of story ideas which may or may not become full stories in the future.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Escape" by Singularoddities. This is a marriage law fic in which Hermione refuses to submit to unjust laws! Caught between being sold off to Draco Malfoy or forced into marrying Snape to help him spy, Hermione chooses to run. Harry, unsurprisingly, runs with her, leaving both Voldemort and Dumbledore furious. I prefer to recommend finished fics, but this one is being updated at a good clip and has a number of good features. In addition to Hermione refusing to just go along with a stupid marriage law, Snape is both snarky and sympathetic (not easy to achieve), and the Granger parents are great.
Chapter 19 - Forever Autumn
Wednesday, September 22, 1995, 6:15 PM.
Getting down to the Forbidden Forest was not easy — not without the presence of the Beauxbatons carriage to provide cover, and especially not with the Pink Toad Lady stalking the corridors. It was only the involvement of three members of the staff which made it possible: Minerva and Fleur, who were going to participate in the Autumnal Equinox ritual themselves, and Flitwick, who had been told about the rituals so he could help.
All three professors gave detentions to three different witches in the study group to provide an excuse in case anyone noticed their absence. In small groups the girls were disillusioned and sent to meet at a predetermined spot just inside the forest. There the nine students and two professors found several visitors waiting for them.
"Fleur, you didn't say that your family was coming!" Hermione exclaimed as she started exchanging hugs with Apolline and Sybine.
"You didn't zink that I was going to handle the entire ritual myself, did you?" Fleur asked with a wry smile. "Even if I knew everything necessary, zere is too much for one person."
"Did you have any trouble getting here?" McGonagall asked. "You don't have the extra carriages to provide a cover."
"It was not a problem," Apolline reassured her. "Last time we needed the cover because of how many visitors we brought. This time the group is small, so we simply used muggle transportation."
"Phoebe! Areto!" Hermione cried out when she saw the two Amazzi standing at the edge of the group. As she approached, she noticed how much they had changed. "You're both starting to show! That's so cool!" She reached out, then stopped and looked at them both. "May I... I mean, is it alright if I, uh, touch?"
Phoebe smiled. "Of course, Hermione. We believe that it's because of you and Jasmine that this was possible." Hermione reached out to touch the bellies of the two mothers-to-be, and Jasmine approached to do the same.
"Zat is Areto and Phoebe," Fleur explained to the other Hogwarts witches as they all started getting changed into thin, brown shifts. "Zey both got pregnant during ze Beltane ritual last term."
"And any children conceived during Beltane are believed to be blessed," Padma continued. When the others looked at her, she said, "What? I wanted to know more about these holiday rituals and read all I could. It wasn't much, unfortunately, but there were a few interesting details."
"Who are the fathers?" Susan asked curiously.
"There are no fathers," Apolline answered. "Veela do not need males to conceive children. Phoebe and Areto are a couple, and they are equally the parents of both their children." She watched the girls' eyes go wide as they digested that, then she added, "That is a veela secret, though, so please do not tell anyone." They all nodded in agreement, now even more curious about Beltane and the veela.
While the study group members kept stealing glances at the two pregnant veela, wondering how that worked, Jasmine and Hermione kept stealing glances at their friends, trying to gauge their reaction to meeting two witches who not only had a romantic and sexual relationship, but were actually pregnant. They hoped they might get some clues about whether they could tell the others about themselves any time soon.
Once everyone was changed — a process that was a bit uncomfortable for some, since it involved stripping nude in the presence of both strangers and one of their older professors — the group made their way through the forest to the ritual circle. All around they could see the earliest hints of green leaves starting to turn yellow and red. In the shadows, they could occasionally see the forms of large centaurs who had come to guard the circle.
"I think the forest is looking even better than it did on Midsummer's Eve," Hannah noted.
Daphne agreed. "I don't think it qualifies as 'forbidden' anymore, though the Headmaster called it that during the opening feast. I wonder if he's even been out here to see what's happening."
"Probably not," Jasmine said a little bitterly. "It's not like he usually checks on things he's responsible for."
Wednesday, September 22, 1995, 6:50 PM.
When they arrived at the circle, they found that instead of a bonfire there was a simple altar in the center. On either side was a small statue of a goddess and a candle bedecked with flowers. They were informed that the left statue was Demeter, and the right was her daughter, Persephone.
Once they entered and made a half-circle in front of the altar, they were each given a chalice of moon cider to drink while Apolline addressed them. "Welcome, sisters, to our Autumnal Equinox celebration. Our earlier rituals this past year celebrated the triumph of the light over the dark and of life over death, but today we mark the point when the pendulum begins to swing in the other direction. This ceremony marks the time when the nights begin to grow longer than the days, when life around us begins to go dormant, and when the chill of age starts settling in.
"Yet this is not a time for despair, for we know that the light will return. It is not a time for sadness, but rather of thanksgiving for the bounty that the goddesses have provided. Thus do we honor their many blessings."
Apolline turned to the altar, lit the candle on the right, and called out, "Hear me, Persephone! Hear me, Mistress, Maiden, and Protector! You tended the forests and fields, but now you have been taken by force to become Hades' queen. Stolen from the light and life above, you must languish in the underworld while we grieve for your absence." The candle's flame grew momentarily, and a large cloud of purple-black smoke exploded out of it, rising into the sky. Meanwhile, around the feet of the witches who were watching, magic began to gather and swirl.
Apolline then lit the candle on the left and continued, "Hear me, Demeter! Hear me, Mistress, Mother, and Legislator! Where your daughter tended the wild plants, you brought us the domestication of our crops. Where your daughter was forcibly taken against all laws, you taught us the sacred laws so that we, too, could mature in wisdom. We grieve that your daughter has been taken and we accept that, in your pain as a mother, you leave darkness and death in your wake as you search for her."
Demeter's flame grew momentarily as a large, reddish-yellow cloud of smoke exploded out of it, rising up to meet the first which still hung above the ritual circle. Even more magic began to swirl around the witches' feet along with colored motes of concentrated magical energy. The motes were thickest around the feet of Jasmine and Hermione, and their friends couldn't help but notice.
Apolline then turned back to the assembled witches and said, "Demeter's search for her daughter creates several months of darkness, lit by naught but a torch provided by Hekate. As much as we might wish that the darkness did not come, we must honor it and Demeter's grief because it reminds us of the importance of balance in our lives."
She moved a few steps towards the half-circle of women and said, "Everyone close your eyes and tilt your heads back. Feel how your body is in balance, just as the earth itself is now coming into balance with equal hours of daylight and night. Raise your arms out to your sides — feel how you are forced to adjust your body to stay in balance. We do this every day: make small, subtle changes to maintain balance in our lives. If we don't, we stumble and fall; but of course, that's why we all need our sisters to help us get back up and return to the path."
Wednesday, September 22, 1995, 7:15 PM.
Abruptly the shadows in the circle grew long and the light from the sky went dim, leaving the two candles as the primary source of light. Apolline spun around, threw her hands up in the sky, and cried, "Hekate, Great Mother! Hekate, Dark Mother! Hekate Soteria, bringer of Light and Destruction, Keeper of the Gateway, we submit to you and to the eternal cycle you bring forth." Apolline dropped to her knees in front of the altar, and the other veela in attendance quickly followed suit.
Jasmine and Hermione looked around and, not knowing what else to do, also dropped to their knees, and their friends from Hogwarts soon followed their lead. Once everyone was on their knees, the flames of both candles grew, casting eerie, flickering shadows all around the circle. At the same time, the magic around their feet and in their bodies surged towards the altar, feeding the flames and causing them to grow ever higher.
Each of the witches felt a pull on their magic as more and more power was fed into the central altar — so much power that the eyes of the statues of the goddesses glowed, and a deep thrumming filled the forest. Just then, a figure wearing a black cloak and carrying a large scythe slowly walked into the circle. The voice which came from the figure was deep, but several of those on their knees were able to recognize it as belonging to Sybine.
"Light requires the dark," she chanted. "Day requires night. Life requires death. Bounty... requires a harvest."
By the time she said the last, she was facing the half-circle of kneeling witches, standing between them and the altar. "That's what tonight is about: the harvest in all its myriad forms. The plants are nourished so that they may grow, then cut down so that we may be nourished and grow ourselves. Eventually we, too, must die so that our bodies and magic can return to the earth and begin the cycle anew. Life requires death, and death requires life."
Sybine, serving as the representative of Hekate and the Crone, lowered the hood on her black cloak and continued, "When we harvest the bounty that we have planted, we are reaping what we have sown. Just as balance is maintained when we harvest the plants we need to keep us alive, balance is also maintained when the things we do to others rebound, whether for good or for ill. Let us all judge and be judged by our actions. May kindness be repaid with good fortune. May evil be repaid with pain. May oath-breaking be repaid... with death."
As energy kept surging in towards the altar, more than one of the witches began to sway slightly as they grew lightheaded from the drain on their magic. Luna, Ginny, and Gabrielle, the youngest present, were having the most trouble staying upright. Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, Luna held her hands out to her sides and used them to help her find her balance. Soon she was followed not just by Ginny and Gabrielle, but the rest of the witches, all of whom had started to sway by that point.
"That you might remember this," Sybine said loudly, raising her hand in front of her, "we ask that Hekate Soteria, the Dark Mother, bless us this night. We ask that the Mistress of Magic enhance and multiply the magic which we sacrifice for our coven. We ask the Guardian of Witches to lift us up and strike down our enemies!"
With those last words, Sybine slashed down her hand in a striking motion, and all the magic that had collected in the altar exploded out into the gathered witches and beyond into the wider forest. Because it had indeed been enhanced and multiplied, far more magical energy flew out of the altar than had entered it, and the witches who were on the verge of collapse from magical exhaustion were suddenly energized well beyond anything they had ever experienced before.
It was more than some could handle, and while most simply bent forward over their knees in order to catch their breath, a few collapsed. Gabrielle was one of these — Jasmine looked over to see that the young girl had fallen on her side and wasn't moving.
Ignoring the odd sensations that were coursing through her body, Jasmine crawled to her friend and rolled her onto her back. She cast a silent, wandless Lumos with her left hand so she could see while using her other hand to push Gabrielle's long, blonde locks away from her face.
"Gabrielle?" Jasmine asked softly, not noticing that several more of the witches had gathered around them. "Gabrielle?" she asked again, gently patting her cheek.
Suddenly Gabrielle's eyes opened and she blinked in confusion, eventually focusing on Jasmine's face. "Are you alright?" Jasmine asked. When Gabrielle nodded, the others moved away as Jasmine stood and offered the younger witch her right hand to help her stand.
Once she was upright, Gabrielle didn't let go; instead, she pulled herself closer and looked deep into Jasmine's green eyes for a moment before whispering in French, "Hekate walks among us. Bearing a light in one hand and destruction in the other, she comes to raise up the faithful while striking down the corrupt. The Savior of Witches has come for me, so that I might serve at her right hand as her sword and shield." She then squeezed Jasmine's hand before stepping away to reassure her family that she was alright.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked as she came up from behind.
"No idea," Jasmine replied with a shrug. "She said something in French. I caught 'Hekate,' so I guess she was talking about how intense that ritual was."
"So intense that it knocked some of us over," Hermione observed. "That was incredible, but I'm not sure I'd want to do it often."
"Good thing it's only once a year, then," Jasmine said.
"Indeed," said Minerva softly as she approached them out of the dark. "I witnessed several Autumnal Equinox rituals in my home village when I was a wee lass, and I never saw anything like what I experienced here tonight. The Midsummer's Eve ritual was similarly powerful and unusual, and while I didn't say anything about it at the time, I think I can conclusively say now that the reason is the two of you."
"Why are they making such a big difference?" Daphne asked, and Jasmine realized that the other Hogwarts students had come up around them.
Hermione hadn't noticed and was instead biting her lip in thought. "I guess that makes sense," she finally said. "I mean, what with our power growth and everything. Jasmine and I have a lot more magic to give, so it's multiplied that much more."
"So you are a lot more powerful than the rest of us!" Padma exclaimed, causing Hermione to look around and realize that they had acquired an audience. Minerva just shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Susan's eyes narrowed. "Do you know why you're so much more powerful?"
"Uh, well..." Jasmine said, quite at a loss for words. "Maybe. Sort of. But it's rather personal."
Susan looked dubiously at each in turn. Finally she said, "OK, I guess I'll have to accept that. Just promise me that you aren't doing anything dark, like performing rituals where you sacrifice babies or something."
"What?" Hermione blurted out. "I've never... how could you even think...?!"
Susan raised a hand to forestall further protest. "It's not that I actually think you're doing such things. Or even could. It's just that the only means I know of to increase your power like that are pretty dark, and I'd feel better hearing it from you directly."
Hermione huffed softly while Jasmine said, "If it's that important, then fine. The only dark ritual I've ever been in was the one in which I was an unwilling participant at the resurrection of Voldemort. Otherwise, neither Hermione nor I have ever knowingly taken part in anything like that."
"Thanks," Susan said, apparently satisfied. "I'm sorry I had to ask, but I guess it's my auntie's influence. She's always stressed the importance of having someone say directly what they mean. It avoids misunderstandings."
"We should all start heading back," Fleur announced. "It will be curfew soon, and we still have a chance to slip into ze castle unnoticed."
Everyone chatted quietly as they hiked back through the forest. Although they all felt energized and powerful, it was a quiet kind of power — the kind that made them want to be still and drink it all in rather than charge around burning off the excess.
As Apolline explained it, while they might be full of magical energy, that energy was a blend of magic donated by all of them, then enhanced by the goddesses. It was therefore both familiar and alien at the same time, and their bodies wanted a chance to rest and integrate that energy back into their own. Apolline said that the veela had recently discovered that after such powerful rituals, resting was a good idea. The more fully the magic could be reincorporated, the longer the positive effects of the ritual would dwell within them.
Suddenly, just as they reached the spot where they'd left their clothing, they heard Daphne exclaim, "Tracey, would you stop playing with your boobs! They aren't going to grow that fast anyway!"
Wednesday, September 22, 1995, Late Night.
Jasmine and Hermione had their Astronomy class on Wednesdays, but instead of heading up to the Astronomy Tower, they held each other in Jasmine's bed, pleased to now better understand why they'd felt this way after every ritual. They weren't talking, they weren't sleeping, and they weren't even snogging — they were just lying there with their eyes closed, resting as their bodies integrated the blended magic back into their own.
Similar scenes were playing out elsewhere in Hogwarts, though only Padma was also missing Astronomy. Despite not being couples, Daphne and Tracey as well as Susan and Hannah also shared beds, finding themselves drawn together by a desire for physical closeness that could only be satisfied by a very, very long hug.
In Diagon Alley, Gringotts was in full lockdown with every goblin, from the lowliest cart driver right up through Branch Supervisor Earchewer, decked out in full battle armor, and most were waiting at their emergency stations. This emergency hadn't been called because of any threat of attack from the outside, but rather due to one of their own high-security vaults suddenly exploding.
"Thank the Goddess no one was injured," War Chief Sharpaxe commented as he and Earchewer watched the inspection and cleanup crew work.
"It would have been much worse if this had happened during the day shift," Earchewer responded. "Six hours ago we had a full inspection team here going through the items in this vault." A loud crash came from behind them, and Earchewer turned around to see that another team had finally freed the vault door, which had become embedded in the rock wall across from the vault. Turning back, he went on, "None of them would have survived."
"Why were these items being inspected?" Sharpaxe asked, his voice full of suspicion.
"For months now we've been getting indications of dark magic from one of the vaults on the lowest level, but it always stopped too quickly to pinpoint. A likely vault was finally identified, and not too long ago, I ordered the guard dragon removed so dark magic detectors could be placed around it. A couple of days ago we got a new, strong reading — strong enough to allow us to open the vault and search for proscribed items."
"I take it you found some, then. Why were they being stored here instead of immediately destroyed?"
"Family complications," Earchewer said. "The owner of that vault had just been expelled from their family, which obligated us to reclaim any family heirlooms. Some of the dark items were also probably family heirlooms, so we decided to simply bring everything here where we could sort them out, piece by piece."
Sharpaxe snorted. "I doubt much of it survived, especially since most if not all of it must have helped fuel the magical explosion. It all looks like it's destined for the garbage heap, now. What family was this, anyway?"
"I'm not sure," Earchewer said as he pulled out a booklet and started flipping through the pages. "It's... well now, that's interesting."
"What's interesting?"
"The family is Black," Earchewer answered.
"And why does that matter?"
"Because a few weeks ago I got a request from the head of the Black family for the parchment work that both the Ministry and Gringotts required for him to formally adopt his goddaughter." Earchewer paused as Sharpaxe looked expectantly at him. "Jasmine Dorea Potter," he finished.
Sharpaxe's eyes widened in surprise. "That might be a coincidence, but we can't take the chance."
Earchewer nodded and called over the team supervisor. "What's your name?"
"Nailtooth, sir!"
"You've been working under Vaultmaster Ripsaw on this, haven't you?" Earchewer asked.
"Yes, sir," Nailtooth responded. "Right from the start."
Earchewer nodded. "I thought I recognized your name — you're the one who recommended that we move the guard dragon. Well, this project just got bumped up in priority. I want every single item in that vault — down to the tiniest scrap, mind you — handled with the utmost care. It all needs to be packed up and inspected by a team of enchanters and curse-breakers. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, because I'm putting you in charge of this now, Special Project Leader Nailtooth. This is your responsibility. If you need anything, or if anyone gives you any trouble, come to me. Understand?
"Yes, sir!" Nailtooth was practically beaming with pride.
"Oh, and Nailtooth?" the Branch Supervisor asked before the newly-promoted goblin could return to work.
"Sir?"
"Do you know who this is standing next to me?" Earchewer asked casually.
"Y-yes, sir, War Chief Sharpaxe. From the Goblin High Council, s-sir."
"And do you know whom he represents here? Beyond the Bet Bel, I mean," Earchewer asked, still sounding casual.
"Th-the Queen," Nailtooth whispered reverently.
"Well, he's not here sightseeing," Earchewer said. "He's here in London on special business — business that includes taking a personal interest in this very project. I trust you understand the importance of that?"
By now Nailtooth had lost the power of speech and could only nod vehemently.
"Very good. Now get back to work!" he bellowed. Nailtooth scrambled through the debris and back into the vault. Everyone could hear him shouting orders, and it made most of them nervous. Sharpaxe, though, just chuckled, pleased to see that Earchewer had gotten his sense of humor reimplanted.
Thursday, September 23, 1995, Noon.
"I learned this morning that the two of you still think that you are above the rules. That you think you can get away with anything. Well, it's high time for that to change."
Jasmine and Hermione turned from their lunches and found Umbridge standing behind them, a horrible smile cutting across her face.
"Huh?" Jasmine asked intelligently.
"This morning I checked the records and discovered that neither of you attended your Astronomy class last night," Umbridge explained. "I asked Professor Sinestra and she confirmed it, too. That's a serious violation of the rules for both of you."
"I, uh, I wasn't feeling very good," Jasmine hastened to say, her stomach sinking at the realization that they'd both been caught in a genuine violation of the rules which neither could explain.
"Neither was I," Hermione added.
"And were either of you in the hospital wing, by any chance?" Umbridge asked sweetly.
"Uh, no," Jasmine answered. "I didn't feel quite that bad, and it was late..."
"Of course you didn't," Umbridge interrupted her, not waiting for Hermione to answer. "It's a good thing you didn't lie, because I already checked on that. Without a signed note from the school Healer, claiming to have been sick is not a legitimate excuse for missing class."
"But... but..." Jasmine tried to argue.
"Tut, tut, the rules must be followed," Umbridge said. "You will both have detention with me for a week, starting tonight."
"But..." Hermione stammered.
Umbridge, though, wasn't paying any attention and simply toddled off, humming a happy tune to herself.
Both girls looked to Padma over at the Ravenclaw table, wondering why she hadn't been given a detention as well despite having missed the same class.
"Zat horrid, horrid witch!" Gabrielle hissed, glaring daggers at Umbridge as the woman exited the Great Hall.
"You need to be careful," Luna said, sounding oddly coherent for once. "Something isn't quite right about her. In the head, I mean." Everyone at the Gryffindor table started whispering while Parvati got up to tell her sister, thus ensuring that the story would spread through the rest of Hogwarts before the first afternoon class even started.
When Jasmine and Hermione looked up at the staff table, neither McGonagall nor Dumbledore were there, so there was no one to ask for help — not that they could realistically expect it anyway.
Thursday, September 23, 1995, Evening.
Hermione and Jasmine approached Umbridge's door with a great deal of trepidation, but they knew that whatever waited for them on the other side, they would just have to deal with it. Hermione reached out to grasp Jasmine's hand and give it a squeeze before knocking. "Come in!" came the response, and upon opening the door the two witches were assaulted with an absolute riot of pink. Pink chairs, pink drapes, pink decorations, pink doilies — everything pink. On top of that were portraits of kittens on every wall — dozens and dozens of plates, each with a picture of a cute, mewling kitten.
"Right on time," Umbridge said, either ignoring or simply not noticing the expressions of abject horror on the faces of the girls. "Sit right over here," she continued, gesturing to two small desks that had somehow been squeezed into her tiny office. Hermione and Jasmine walked over and sat completely on autopilot, their brains not yet recovered from the horrid sights surrounding them. Umbridge placed a quill and a sheaf of parchment on each desk, then returned to her own desk to sit down.
"You will both be writing lines for me. Miss Potter will write 'I must not tell lies' while Miss Granger will write 'I must respect my betters.' Maybe this will help you learn proper behavior for witches."
"We don't have any ink," Hermione protested.
"You won't need any," Umbridge responded with an especially wide smile. "Those are special quills."
"How many times do we have to do this?" Jasmine asked.
"Oh, until it sinks in, I think," Umbridge said. "So you'd better get started."
Both younger witches picked up their quills and began to write. Shortly after they started to form the brownish words, they each felt an itching sensation on the backs of their hands. Both of them grimaced and looked at their hands in confusion, then continued to write and grimaced even more as the itching grew worse and started edging into pain. Almost immediately, though, the itching and pain stopped, allowing Jasmine and Hermione to start writing much more quickly.
Umbridge's broad, gleeful smile faltered at about the same time and just as abruptly. Neither of the girls noticed when Umbridge began to scratch at the backs of her hands, and they didn't pay any attention to her gasp of horror when she looked down and saw angry, red lines being cut into her flesh. They did, however, take notice when she jumped up out of her chair and screamed as the angry lines became deep gouges and blood sprayed across her pink desk.
"Get out!" she shrieked. "Get out, you horrible little brats!"
Jasmine and Hermione didn't bother asking questions, they simply ran out the door, not even stopping to close it behind them. They hadn't gone far before Jasmine asked, "Do you think we should tell Professor McGonagall?"
Hermione nodded. "We didn't even get a chance to tell her that we got any detention at all. I think she'll want to hear about this."
Their Transfiguration professor was surprised to see them and upset to learn that they had received a week's worth of detentions. She had to apologize for not having thought to alter the attendance records somehow, but it hadn't occurred to any of them that Umbridge would be monitoring them to find something she could use.
It was when they explained what their detention was like, however, that McGonagall was truly appalled. "Let me see your left hands," she ordered, carefully examining them. "Yes, I can see faint lines. I suspect that she was having you use a blood quill, a special type of quill that's only supposed to be used for contracts and other legal documents."
"What's so special about it?" Hermione asked.
"It does what its name implies," McGonagall explained. "It writes in blood, not ink — your blood, to be specific. The red scratches are from the magic of the quill drawing blood out of your hand. It's fine for signing documents, but if you were to keep writing with one, it would eventually cut open your hand, leaving horrible scars."
"She... she was trying to do that to us?" Jasmine asked, horrified. "She was trying to torture us?"
"I think so," McGonagall said with a scowl, "but we'd have to search her office for proof, and I doubt that the DMLE would accept your word as sufficient. Then there's the question of what happened to her. It sounds like her hands were being used as the source for the blood, but that shouldn't have happened."
"Could something have caused her to become bound to the quills?" Hermione asked.
McGonagall thought about that for a moment, then answered, "I really don't see how. Even so, it should have only scratched her — it shouldn't have opened up cuts on her until you had written several hundred lines!"
"Bound?" Jasmine said suddenly. "Maybe it's not that magic caused the quills to be bound to her, but rather to rebound to her?"
"Rebound?" McGonagall repeated, then her eyes lit up. "You're talking about the ceremony last night?"
Jasmine nodded. "Maybe it wasn't just metaphorical? Maybe the ritual created the conditions for things to literally rebound — for evil done to us to rebound to those who are trying to do us harm, at least for as long as the magic of the ritual persists in us?"
Both Hermione and McGonagall looked thoughtful at this theory, wondering how powerful the magic would need to be in order for it to happen.
"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it right now," McGonagall finally said. "If we get more evidence, maybe we can do a search of her room. For now, though, she's too well protected by the Ministry. Once again, keep your heads down and avoid her if you can."
Both Gryffindors nodded fervently and hurried back to their common room to work on their assignments.
Friday, September 24, 1995, Late Morning.
Hermione and Jasmine were surprised to see Umbridge inspecting their Defense class the next day — and with heavily bandaged hands, too. Fleur had mentioned during the walk to the ritual that her class had yet to be evaluated and that as far as she knew, she was the only professor not to have received any inspections. Umbridge visiting now, right after their bizarre detention, struck them as a bit too odd to be completely coincidental, but they couldn't think of what her reasoning might be.
Knowing Fleur as they did, they could tell that she was a bit more nervous than usual, but she hid it well. About half way through the class, while she had the students running through practical work on spellcasting, they could hear Umbridge question Fleur about her qualifications.
"How exactly did you get this job, anyway?" Umbridge asked, her hostility barely hidden.
"I came to Britain looking for work and happened to meet with Professor Dumbledore," Fleur answered. "We talked, he asked about my grades and goals, and ze next day he offered me ze job."
"So you didn't seek him out, and he didn't seek you out? This wasn't arranged last term, before you went back to France?" Umbridge pressed.
"No, not at all," Fleur replied, obviously confused about where this was going. "Why do you ask?"
"I was just trying to figure out how and why a... girl like you, barely out of school, could be chosen for such a prestigious job over a more deserving, pureblood English witch."
"You mean, like you?" Fleur asked, finally seeing the point of all the questions.
"Of course," Umbridge declared. "As a pureblood English witch who is completely human, I am far more qualified to teach anything at all to English witches and wizards." By this point, the class had given up on trying to surreptitiously listen in while doing their work and were just blatantly staring at the exchange.
"I received mostly Os on my NEWT exams in France," Fleur declared, "and zat was in addition to doing ze Triwizard Tournament last year — a tournament I shared victory in, by ze way. My score for my NEWT in Defense was an O. What was yours?"
"I... I..." Umbridge seemed to be having trouble answering the question. Finally, she declared, "I received an Acceptable, but that was only because my father knew someone in the Education department who owed him a favor, and they bumped up my grades by one level across the board." Umbridge slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. Fleur herself was wide-eyed and unsure how to respond.
The first vocal reaction came from neither of the adults; instead, it came from Tracey, who first snorted loudly, then turned away in an attempt to hold in her guffaws.
"Shut up!" Umbridge yelled. "Shut up, you nasty little witch! Do you think you're better? Your family probably bribed the Ministry for false records declaring them to be purebloods just like my father did!" Once again, Umbridge slapped her hand over her mouth, but instead of staying and risking another outburst, she ran out of the Defense classroom while the entire class just gaped at her retreating pink back, completely at a loss for words.
Except for Tracey, who laughed even louder.
Umbridge wasn't seen for the rest of the day.
At dinner, Professor McGonagall stopped by the Gryffindor table to tell Hermione and Jasmine that the rest of their week's worth of detentions would be done with her. Apparently, Umbridge was "indisposed" and would be unable to fulfill her responsibilities for the next few days. McGonagall had, of course, heard the story of what happened in Defense just like everyone else in the school, which probably explained the wide smirk on her face when she delivered that bit of news.