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 "Harry Potter and Future's Past" by DriftWood1965. Harry and Hermione discover their true feelings for one another, and Miranda, the Goddess of Love, offers to send them back in time so they can do things right. Not complete and updates are slow. H/Hr.
Chapter 24 - Waking the Witch
Sunday, October 31, 1995, 5:00 PM.
Jasmine, Hermione, Fleur, Gabrielle, and Minerva all dropped into a dark alley in Godric's Hollow, with Jasmine tumbling to the ground as usual. "At least I didn't twist or break my ankle this time," she muttered as Hermione and Gabrielle helped her to her feet. With Minerva leading, the five witches silently made their way through the village to the ancient cemetery.
Here and there they could see children dressed in colorful costumes, but they avoided the better-traveled streets as they hurried along. The sun had already set, but they still had enough light to see by, and they wanted to complete their task before it got too dark.
Jasmine shuddered without knowing why when they reached the kissing gate outside the cemetery. "Zat was ze wards," Fleur told them. "We will have complete privacy for ze ritual, and tomorrow ze wards will be taken down."
Once inside, they moved more slowly as Jasmine and Hermione looked at all the familiar names as they passed by row after row of tombstones. Abbot. Parkes. Dumbledore.
Finally they arrived at their destination. Everyone waited patiently as Jasmine looked down at the single stone that marked the final resting place of both her parents — people she didn't even remember. Jasmine let go of Hermione's hand and took a hesitant step forward, then knelt gently in front of the stone. She reached out and slowly traced the lines of her parents' names, then read the inscription along the bottom. "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death," she whispered.
She frowned as she looked back at the others. "Isn't that what Death Eaters believe?"
"No, lass," Minerva assured her. "For Death Eaters, the idea of defeating death means avoiding it. Denying it. For your parents, though, it meant accepting the inevitability of death, but not despairing because they believed that they, or at least some part of them, would continue on. They believed that death isn't truly the end and thus wasn't an enemy to be feared."
Jasmine looked back at the gravestone, unsure of what to think about that. The idea that death wasn't the end might have been comforting, and given the existence of ghosts might even have been true; but the fact remained that they weren't there anymore. They left me. They left me alone. Alone with the Dursleys, who victimized me for more than a decade. Alone with Dumbledore, who hasn't tried to take care of me. What good is continuing on when you leave an innocent, helpless toddler alone... without support. Without...
Jasmine had never truly cried over the loss of her parents. Whenever the Dursleys had thrown her status as an orphan at her, she'd known that she couldn't show any sort of emotional response, lest they use that against her. She had learned to hold it in and had been doing that ever since. She'd kept her feelings bottled up so tightly that even she didn't know how much it hurt.
Now, though, she broke down and cried over the graves of her parents. The raw, open wound of what she'd lost was finally exposed, and her deep, racking sobs echoed across the graveyard as her shoulders heaved and her eyes burned. She cried over her lost childhood. She cried over her fears that she wouldn't be able to live up to her parents' expectations. She cried over her inability to control her own life due to being the target of two prophecies, a manipulative old man, and a psychopathic maniac. Most of all, though, she cried because she finally could. She had never been able to fully let out any of the pain that life had inflicted on her, and once she started, she couldn't stop.
Jasmine had no idea how long she knelt there, sobbing, but eventually she felt a pair of arms encircle her from behind as she heard Hermione say, "It's OK, Jas. You're not alone — not anymore. You'll always have me by your side."
Gradually the sobbing slowed and then finally stopped. Jasmine wiped her face with her sleeve and managed to stand again with help from Hermione, who pulled out a wand to clean her girlfriend's face.
Fleur stopped her with a hand on her arm. "No, no magic," she said. "It might interfere with ze ritual." Hermione nodded and returned her wand to its holster.
Once Jasmine had collected herself, the five witches dropped their heavy winter cloaks, revealing that they were all wearing thin black shifts. Jasmine shivered when the cold October air hit her — they couldn't even apply warming charms to themselves or their clothing. They removed shoes, wands, and everything else but the shifts before gathering in a semi-circle around the grave.
"You remember what you need to do?" Fleur asked. When Jasmine nodded silently, Fleur raised her hands and in a slightly shaky voice began to lead the group in a ritual to honor Jasmine's parents. This was her first time leading a magical ritual, and she wanted to get it right.
"The summer light has died. The autumn wind blows cold. The darkness of winter approaches," Fleur recited. "It is the night of Samhain, the night when the veil between our world and the next is thinnest. The night when we honor those who have already passed on and ask them to bless those who remain behind."
She nodded to Jasmine, whose voice as she began to speak was even more tremulous than Fleur's. "Tonight I honor my ancestors. Tonight I honor the spirits of my mo-mother and my father, taken far too young from us. Tonight I honor the lives of those who gave me life, because while they are no longer with me, they are not t-truly gone so long as I persevere."
As Jasmine finished, Fleur pulled out from a special bag a board, knife, and small loaf of dark rye bread. She held the board while the younger witch cut the bread and placed one half to either side of the gravestone. Fleur then helped her pour out two small cups of fermented apple cider, which she placed beside the bread. Finally, Fleur gave her two candles which she set, unlit, by the food.
Unnoticed by the witches gathered around the Potter grave, a swirling mist had begun to fill the old cemetery, cutting off their ability to see either the road they had come from or the nearby church.
After Jasmine had completed her part, everyone joined hands as she spoke again: "Spirit of my mother. Spirit of my father. I call upon you to join me on this night. I ask you to watch over me, to protect and guide me, to help me fulfill my destiny so that I can continue the cycle with a new generation."
As the mist thickened, passersby started crossing the street to stay as far as possible from the spooky old graveyard. Families who lived on the street would wonder the next day why so few children had stopped by.
"Mother and Father," Jasmine continued, "your blood courses through me and gives me life. Your spirits inspire me and give me hope. Your memories comfort me and give me shelter. I will always remember you, and so long as I endure, you will not be truly gone. I promise that you will always live on, in my heart and in those who follow after me."
A strong wind rushed in, though it didn't move the mist at all. Then, as the wind fell off, the wicks of the two candles burst into flame, casting flickering shadows all around them. Four of the witches were more than a little surprised, but Jasmine barely paid attention — she was too emotionally drained to focus on events around her.
Once everyone was dressed again, they started to head back through the now-dissipating mist to the kissing gate, but after a few meters Jasmine stopped and turned around. "Thanks, Mum and Dad," she whispered thickly. "Thanks for everything. I love you." Then she quickly spun and rejoined the others.
Behind her, the wind kicked up again as motes of pulsating energy swirled around the graveyard.
Dolores Umbridge stalked through the corridors of Hogwarts, looking everywhere for her prey: Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger, the banes of her existence and existential threats to the Ministry of Magic. The two witches had been missing all day and hadn't even shown up for dinner. In fact, she hadn't been able to find them since breakfast that morning.
They're up to no good — they have to be, she concluded. Otherwise, they'd be in the library or their common room studying. No, they're doing something that endangers the Ministry, and I'll find out what it is. I'll have them expelled and their wands snapped before lunch tomorrow!
Remus Lupin and Sirius Black each knocked back yet another shot of firewhiskey in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. They'd lost count of how many they'd had so far, and frankly, neither cared. Remus had been surprised when Sirius expressed an interest in getting drunk that night, given how long he'd managed to go without alcohol of any sort. But he supposed that if anyone had a right to get drunk on such a night, it was the two of them.
Aside from all the obvious reasons to join Sirius, Remus had a selfish motive: he hoped it would cause his friend to become a bit less guarded. There were questions he wanted to ask but yet managed because Sirius had been acting increasingly reserved, secretive, and uncommunicative. The old Sirius was still there, he could tell; but he'd been changing — in some ways for the better, but in other ways, not so much.
As the night wore on and they consumed ever more firewhiskey, Remus decided it was as good a time as any to raise some delicate questions. "Say, Padfoot," he said, trying to seem casual, "have you noticed how close Jasmine and Hermione are?"
"Hm?" Sirius responded.
"Jasmine and Hermione."
"Oh, yeah," Sirius said, slurring his words. "They're pretty close. Have ya noticed?"
"Yes, I think I have," Remus replied, trying to hide a smile. "They were pretty close in third year when I taught them, but they seem even closer now."
"As close as me 'n James," Sirius said, not entirely paying attention. "Every time I see the two of 'em together, I think about how much they remind me of me 'n James."
Remus was unfortunate enough to have been taking a drink at that moment and promptly spit most of it back out.
"Jasmine may be more like Lily than James," Sirius continued, not noticing his friend's distress, "but when it comes to her friendship with Hermione, she and James are indis... indis... you can't tell 'em apart. I can see 'em traveling the same path that I knew me 'n James were already on."
"Sweet Merlin, I hope not," Remus whispered under his breath, still coughing as he tried to clean the table up.
"Wha' was that?"
"Nothing, nothing," Remus answered. "I'm just... uh, how close were you and James, anyway?"
"Closer 'n brothers," Sirius said. "Well, closer 'n I was to my brother. As close as close can be, we were."
"Did... did Lily know?"
Sirius frowned. "Well, sure. James never hid anything from 'er. Not that he'd have been able to if he tried. And she was involved... in most of what me 'n James did, at least after those two got together."
"Did?" Remus half whispered.
"Yeah," Sirius said. "Y'know, pranks, watching Quidditch, that sorta thing. You were around for almost all of it — don'tcha remember?"
"Oh, right," Remus replied, feeling relieved. "So nothing, uh, more. Nothing beyond that?"
"Like what?" Sirius asked, looking confused.
"Nothing," Remus replied hastily. "Forget I said anything."
Sirius grunted and finished his drink.
"But it seems you like Hermione?" Remus asked, trying to change the subject back and hoping that with enough firewhiskey, he'd forget the images that had just been coursing through his head. "You approve of her?"
"Of course. I can't think of a better friend for her. I only hope Jasmine can find a wizard who's as good."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Remus muttered under his breath.
"Huh?"
"Never mind, Padfoot," Remus said as he poured another round. "Have some more of this and forget I said anything."
"Professor?"
Flitwick looked up and saw that Ravenclaw's ghost, the Grey Lady, had drifted through his office door. "Yes, my dear?" he asked. "Is it time?"
She nodded. "I'm afraid so. She's getting more and more upset."
"Very well," Flitwick said with a sigh as he closed his book and started for the door. "I'll go distract her while you start alerting the others." The ghost nodded and drifted out as Flitwick exited his office. "I'm really not getting paid enough for this," he muttered.
Sunday, October 31, 1995, 5:30 PM.
The portkey deposited the five witches outside the Merry Maidens stone circle, where everyone else was already waiting for them. Despite the fast-diminishing light, they recognized the other Hogwarts witches as well as numerous veela who had participated in earlier rituals, including Apolline, Adrienne, Phoebe, and Areto.
All of that was expected; what wasn't expected was the presence of a group of heavily armed and dangerous-looking goblins, all surrounding a single figure completely hidden under a black cloak. One scarred goblin with an eyepatch and two escorts approached the newly arrived witches. He looked them over and then turned to two in particular.
"Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger?" he asked. "My name is Sharpaxe. I'm in charge of the goblin contingent here this evening. We have a number of guards out around the ward boundaries to watch for trouble, though I don't expect there to be any problems."
"What do the muggles think is going on?" Hermione asked. "If I'm not mistaken, they often gather around sites like this on important dates like Samhain."
"I believe that a story about a leak in a gas line was released to the muggles," he answered.
"A gas leak?" Hermione asked, confusion clear on her face. "But... but there wouldn't be any gas lines under here. Or anywhere near here."
Sharpaxe shrugged. "Maybe not, but that doesn't seem to have stopped them from believing it."
Hermione sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Usually I think muggles have magicals beat when it comes to basic common sense, but then they go and do something like that..."
Sharpaxe grinned, but before he could say anything, Jasmine gestured at the cloaked figure still surrounded by guards and asked, "Who is that?"
The goblin's grin quickly disappeared. "That is a representative from the goblin leadership. Their identity is to remain a secret. In fact, you must not tell anyone that such a goblin was ever in your country. They will not be interfering, just observing. The goblin leadership is interested in exactly what it is that we're helping to protect here."
"Zat is quite understandable," Fleur said as she stepped forward. "We welcome your and zeir presence, and we hope zat zis evening's celebration will be enlightening." Sharpaxe responded with a quick bow of his head and returned to his group. "Come," Fleur said to the others, "It is getting late, and ze others are waiting."
"Chief Inquisitor Umbridge?"
"Yes?" Umbridge asked testily as she turned around, annoyed at being distracted from her mission to find Potter and Granger. At first she didn't see anyone, but finally she looked down and realized that it was Professor Flitwick who had come up behind her. She loathed the vile little half-breed, but couldn't deny that she got a visceral thrill out of being around someone who was actually shorter than her.
"I was wondering if we could discuss some of the standards which the Ministry is planning to impose on Hogwarts," Flitwick said. "I have some suggestions that I think would go a long way towards not only improving education, but also bringing the Ministry and Hogwarts into closer alignment."
"I... I don't have time," Umbridge protested, starting to walk away. "I'm busy with another project right now."
"Oh, well, I don't mind walking with you," he replied cheerfully. "I tend to think better while I'm walking anyway."
"Really, it's not necessary—"
"It's not a problem at all. Besides, I have nothing else to do for the next few hours. Now, according to the Ministry Educational Act of 1755, we professors here are required to..."
Sunday, October 31, 1995, 6:00 PM.
After shedding shoes, outer cloaks, and wands, the five witches entered the stone circle and took their places around the central bonfire while the group of goblins remained right outside the entrance. Inside the circle and off to the side was an altar with three candles and two statues. Fleur had earlier explained that instead of the usual two goddesses, the Samhain ritual would honor two aspects of the same goddess: Hekate Phosphoros and Hekate Soteira.
Once everyone was in place, Apolline stood in front of the altar and spoke: "The night of Samhain has arrived. Tonight is a night of remembrance and transition, a time to honor the past while preparing for the future. The harvest is over. Our fields lay bare. Day has transitioned into night. Summer is sliding into winter. Death lurks out in the shadows, just beyond the light of our fire. As the sun dims and the nights grow long, death moves and announces its presence."
Apolline turned, facing all of the assembled witches one by one. Raising her hands above her head, she said, "But we are not afraid. Here, where ancient power courses beneath our feet, we are not afraid, because we accept that death is a part of life and that to fear death is to fear life itself." A thick mist swept in and began swirling outside the stone circle, while the two smaller candles on either side of the altar burst into light.
The witches inside the circle didn't pay any attention to the mist, but Sharpaxe did because he immediately recognized that it cut him off from the guards around the outer edges of the wards. He started giving orders to a runner to go and check on the guards when Lufestre placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's no need," she said. "We are safe."
The War Chief shot her a skeptical look. "How can you be so sure? That mist isn't natural, and it's cutting us off from the rest of our force. I didn't prepare a defensible position here because I was assured that we would not be in danger."
The cloaked Lufestre shook her head. "I can't explain how I know, but I promise you that we are all safe. I feel it." Sharpaxe wasn't happy with that response, but he nodded and turned back to watch the ritual. He made a point of keeping a hand on his weapon, however, and his guards followed his example.
"Samhain is a time to remember and honor our ancestors," Apolline was saying. "We have all lost loved ones, but tonight is when we are most able to reach out and touch them again. Everyone should come up to the altar, take a white candle, and light it from either the left or right candle of Hekate. When you do so, ask that she bless us all by using you as her vessel to either light our way or defend our homes. And as you return to your place around the circle, meditate on the people closest to you who have passed through the veil."
One by one, each of the witches did as Apolline asked. Some, like Daphne, didn't allow any emotion to show on their faces at all. Others, like Susan, openly wept. Soon they were all back in their original positions, each holding a lit candle in front of them.
"We call to you, Hekate, guardian of the gate between the living and the dead, keeper of the path between this world and the underworld," Apolline intoned. "We ask that you watch over the spirits of our loved ones who have passed through the veil and guide us when it is our time to join them." The central candle on the altar suddenly burst into flame as motes of magical energy swirled within the circle; outside the stone ring, the surrounding mist thickened as it revolved around them.
Sharpaxe scowled and made a few quick hand motions, causing the goblins to move into a tighter formation around the High Priestess. So far the mist hadn't affected them, but he and his people were between the edge of the mist and the edge of the circle, making him feel trapped. It wasn't a situation he was comfortable with.
Apolline turned back to the assembled witches and raised her hands once more. The other veela followed suit, so the Hogwarts witches imitated them. "We call upon Hekate Phosphoros, Bringer of Light and Patron of Witches, to light our path for as long as we walk on this side of the Veil. Hekate's light shines forever in the dark places, separating truth from lies, revealing secrets and knowledge, giving hope to those who seek to fulfill their destinies. Just as her light showed Demeter the truth, just as her light showed Demeter the way forward, may she reveal to us the truth and the way."
The black candle on the left, next to the statue of Hekate Phosphoros, began burning blue, and the mist circled faster.
As the other witches responded, "Hekate Phosphoros, fill us with your light and guide us on our path," the ground around their feet began to glow. Pulses of energy began flowing from them towards the central bonfire, causing it to rise higher. Meanwhile, blue motes of energy began swirling around Hermione's feet, and the white flame on her candle slowly shifted to blue.
"We call upon Hekate Soteira, Savior of Witches, to defend those who uphold the old ways and protect all who call her Mother. She binds our wounds and prepares us for the trials we must face. Just as she led Persephone up from the underworld, she will lead us up out of the cold darkness and back into her light. But when danger threatens, she becomes Hekate Perseis, the Destroyer, bringing fire and ruin to all those who attack her children. Hekate shows no mercy to the aggressors, but her compassion for the innocent is boundless."
The black candle on the right, next to the statue of Hekate Soteira, began burning green, and the mist surrounding the stone circle revolved faster as the deep roaring of the wind grew in volume.
The other witches, many of whom were swaying due to the drain on them, responded, "Hekate Soteira, save us, your children, from the cold and the dark." The pulses of magical energy flowing from the witches into the central fire grew in size and speed while the fire itself reached ever higher into the sky. At the same time, green motes of energy began swirling around Jasmine's feet, and the white flame of her candle slowly shifted to green.
Outside the stone circle, Sharpaxe was at a loss for what to do. At the speed the mist seemed to be moving, not to mention the roaring that was reaching deafening levels, there should have been a wind strong enough to knock them all over — but they didn't feel even the slightest breeze. On top of that... something was happening inside the circle, but he didn't understand what. And what he didn't understand, he had to treat as a threat.
Something drew Sharpaxe's gaze upward just then, and what he saw almost drove him to his knees in a combination of fear and awe. Where there had previously been swirling mist, they now stood at the base of a massive vortex that stretched so far into the night sky that there was no way to tell where it ended. In the center, piercing the vortex like a fiery sword, was a column of flame from the bonfire, reaching into the heavens and beyond.
"High Priestess," he croaked out, "do you see...?"
"I see it," Lufestre shouted back, "but I'm not sure I believe it."
"We call upon you, Hekate, Bringer of Light, Savior of Witches, Dark Mother! Guide us through the cycles of life, protect us from those who wish us harm, and bestow upon us the power which is yours!"
As soon as Apolline cried the last words, the column of flame that stretched up out of the bonfire collapsed down into the center and exploded outward in a maelstrom of energy. First it hit the witches, all of whom fell to the ground with the force of the blast. Next it hit the mist, and the two merged before spiraling outward across the plains and hills of Cornwall, then throughout Devon, not dissipating until it entered Somerset and Dorset.
The goblins standing between the stone circle and the wall of the vortex of mist were, much to their shock, almost entirely unaffected. They had braced themselves as soon as they saw the flames collapse down into the bonfire, but whereas the witches had been knocked over by the force of the exploding wave of energy, the goblins only felt a gentle breeze pass over them.
"I remember you," Myrtle said with narrowed eyes. "You were always mean to me. Well, everyone is mean to me, but you were meaner than most!"
Dolores Umbridge tried to stand a bit straighter, despite knowing that she could never look intimidating when she didn't even reach five feet tall in heels. "It serves you right, you know, disturbing that wedding. You were lucky that the Ministry only confined you to Hogwarts last time. If you keep this up, we'll have you exorcised completely!"
"No!" Myrtle cried before she shot into her stall and dove into the toilet with a loud splash.
Umbridge nodded as if she'd completed an important job, then headed for the door. Why that ghost told me two Gryffindor girls came in here, I'll never know. There must be something wrong with the castle's ghosts . Maybe I can blame it on Dumbledore?
When she pushed on the door, however, it wouldn't open. She pulled out her wand and cast Alohomora on it, but nothing happened. Outside, she heard the distinctive voice of Peeves cackling. "You open this door right now!" she screamed. "Do you hear me?"
"Well," came an annoying, nasally voice from behind her. "I guess we're stuck in here together now."
"Peeves!"
Sunday, October 31, 1995, 7:00 PM.
Jasmine felt hands helping her into a sitting position, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Gabrielle gazing back in wonder at her. "Hekate Soteira," the younger witch whispered in French, "save us from the cold and the dark."
Jasmine shook her head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs, then grabbed Gabrielle's arm to help steady herself as she stood. To her side, Fleur was helping Hermione in the same way — and Hermione's eyes were glowing blue. "Jasmine," she said, "your eyes! They're—"
"Yeah, yours too," Jasmine said. "Do you feel, I dunno..."
"Yeah," Hermione answered, "I think I know what you mean." She looked down at her hands and started rubbing her fingers together. "It's like there's something there, a tingle or an echo, just beyond what I can see or hear or something."
Jasmine nodded. "Whatever it is, it's big. Massive, even. But all I can hear are whispers... if hearing is the right word. I can't quite tell."
"I zink maybe we should not delay returning to ze castle," Fleur announced. Looking at Minerva, she went on, "I will take a portkey with zese three, if you can accompany ze others?" The older witch, who was still moving a bit unsteadily, nodded in agreement and began to gather together her students, all of whom were looking at Jasmine and Hermione with undisguised curiosity.
As Fleur, Gabrielle, Jasmine, and Hermione left the circle, they received respectful nods from all of the goblins, including the mysterious, black-cloaked figure. Once they had gathered up everything they'd brought with them, Fleur activated the portkey, which dropped them outside of Hogsmeade. Heading quickly for Honeydukes, they snuck down into the basement, where they used the hidden passage to get back into Hogwarts.
Fleur and Gabrielle escorted the other two to the Room of Requirement in order to help them avoid others — there would be too many questions if anyone saw their glowing eyes — then made their own way to Fleur's private quarters.
"Headmaster Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore looked down to find Hogwarts' head elf standing next to his desk, frowning deeply as his large, yellow eyes darted all over. "What is it Pappy? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, Headmaster," Pappy answered, pulling and twisting his towel. "You remembers that we not be finding the source of dark magic? And that I be wanting to have elves always be watching for it?"
Dumbledore looked intently at the elf, his eyes alight with anticipation. "Yes, Pappy, I remember. Did they find something?"
"Yes, Headmaster," Pappy answered. "A little bit ago there be dark magic in the Come and Go Room. Elves be watching and be finding! But we not like to be touching. It be very dark magic." Pappy snapped his fingers and a box appeared on his desk. Dumbledore could immediately sense the darkness that surrounded it, and Fawkes started squawking over in the corner.
"Thank you, Pappy," Dumbledore said. "I must confess that I thought something like this might happen tonight. I'm sorry I didn't warn you. Please pass along my thanks to the other elves involved as well. You should all take some time this evening to rest a bit. After what you must have gone through to find and move this, you all deserve it."
"Thank you, Headmaster," the elf said before disappearing.
Dumbledore stared at the box and considered his best course of action. Before he could get far, however, the gargoyle alerted him to another visitor, and in a few seconds, Dolores Umbridge burst through his door. "Headmaster Dumbledore!" she screeched. "What kind of school are you running here?"
Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you tell me what's troubling you?"
Sunday, October 31, 1995, 7:30 PM.
The Room of Requirement was all set up for what Jasmine liked to call "an appropriate arrangement of body parts." Hermione liked to give Jasmine a whack on the shoulder whenever she used that phrase, which was probably why Jasmine kept doing it.
Despite Hermione having had a firm idea in her mind of what she wanted when she paced the necessary three times, the room wasn't quite what she had expected. There was a large bed in the center and the accompanying bathroom she'd asked for. What she hadn't envisioned was a room that looked like it was in the middle of an ancient Greek temple, constructed from white marble and complete with columns. Nor had she envisioned the massive statues in each of the four corners of the room — statues of a goddess with three faces and three bodies, each body holding a torch plus either a key, a dagger, or a serpent.
"You've got a weird imagination," Jasmine commented dryly.
"This isn't all me," Hermione protested. "I wanted a comfortable room that would be appropriate for what we intend to do. Not..." she waved her hands around at the marble and decorations, "...all of this... whatever it is!"
"Well... does it matter?"
"I guess not. I just wish I understood how this room worked."
They had only gotten a few steps into the room when two translucent figures shimmered into existence before them. The girls were annoyed at first, thinking that a couple of Hogwarts ghosts had intruded, but Jasmine suddenly gasped and moved forward another step. "Mum? Dad?" she asked.
"Yes, honey, it's us," Lily Potter answered. Jasmine stumbled forward and reached out for them, but her hands passed right through.
"You're... you're ghosts?" Jasmine asked, sounding both hopeful and disappointed as she dropped to her knees. "Are you at Hogwarts now?"
"Not really, no," Lily answered. "We're spirits, not ghosts that are bound to an earthly location. The ritual you performed in Godric's Hollow called us from the other side, and the amount of magic you put into that call was enough to actually bring us across. But even so, it won't last for long."
"Besides," James added with a grin, "I suspect you had other plans for tonight." Lily elbowed him in the side as Jasmine blushed furiously. She quickly stood up and reached behind her.
"This is my, uh, my..." Finally finding Hermione's hand, she yanked her girlfriend forward to stand alongside her. "This is my Hermione."
Hermione squeaked out a hello, suddenly feeling sympathetic to what Jasmine had gone through back in June when she met Hermione's parents.
"Yes, we recognize her," James said. "Your soulmate, Hermione Granger. It's a real pleasure to finally meet you."
"You... you know about us?" Jasmine asked, more than a little fearful.
"Of course," James answered. "The afterlife is frightfully boring. Watching the living is the only sort of entertainment we have."
"Watch?" Jasmine squawked. "You... you've been watching us?"
Lily elbowed James again. "Not everything!" she insisted. "We have a bit more decency than that. Well, most of us do, at any rate." She glared at her husband, who had the good sense to look contrite. "We have tried to keep an eye on you during your life. I'm so, so sorry about Petunia and her family — I can assure you that they will not like what happens to them once they pass over. Neither will Dumbledore, though he is trying harder."
"We have been pleased with you, Miss... Hermione," James corrected himself. "Jasmine's life will never be an easy one, but it's gotten far, far better because of your presence. I don't think she could possibly have found a better friend or partner anywhere."
"So... you don't mind?" Jasmine asked. "I mean, you're OK with the fact that I... you know, prefer other witches?"
James sighed. "I'll admit that there was a time when we might not have handled it so well, but on the other side of the Veil, you get a much different perspective on things. One of the first things you learn is that real love is unbounded — it is not constrained by time or space, nor by physical form or any other earthly consideration. It was love which enabled your magic to call us here tonight, and we would never love you any less simply because of whom you love yourself."
"Thanks, Dad," Jasmine whispered, swallowing hard. "That... that means a lot to me."
"I do want grandbabies, though," Lily said firmly, causing Jasmine and Hermione to gasp. "I know it's possible for two witches, and since there are indeed two of you, I should be able to get twice as many. Lots and lots of grandbabies." Both witches blushed scarlet from head to toe. "And you know we're watching, so you can't use me being dead as an excuse for not getting busy."
"Muuum!" Jasmine exclaimed, more embarrassed than she'd ever felt in her life.
"Now, now, Lily," James said. "There's lots of time for that. They're still young. They need to... you know, practice first."
"Daaad!" Jasmine reconsidered and decided that now she was more embarrassed than she'd ever felt in her life.
"We're also happy that you've discovered the old ways, and on your own, too," James said, ignoring his daughter's complaint. "The Potters have long practiced them, though of course always secretly."
"I was quite surprised when I first learned about them," Lily added. "I have to admit that participating in rituals always made me feel much closer to magic. I'll always remember our last one, an Autumnal Equinox celebration. It was over a month before... well, before that night. It was actually the first time we brought you, since you were a year old, so in a sense that was your first ritual — not that you did anything, of course."
"Are there others like you?" Jasmine asked. "I mean, other families still doing it?"
"Of course," James answered. "I can't tell you who they are, though — it wouldn't be right. But if things go well, I'm sure you'll meet them eventually." Just as he finished saying that, both James and Lily started to fade.
Jasmine quickly reached out to them. "No!"
"Our time is up, honey," Lily said. "Remember that we love you and that we're very, very proud of you."
"We're proud of both of you," James added. "And we completely approve."
In the space of a few heartbeats, both figures had vanished. Jasmine and Hermione collapsed against each other, both feeling emotionally drained from the experience.
"I can't believe it," Jasmine half whispered. "I can't believe my parents were here. I actually got to talk to them."
Hermione smiled. "I can't believe your father used what little time he had to tease us! At least I know where you get it, now."
"Bit of a mood killer, though," Jasmine said with a sigh. "But I guess it could have been worse." When Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow, Jasmine continued, "They could have popped in after. Or, you know, during."
Hermione shuddered at the thought, then pulled Jasmine into an embrace. "Dance with me," she said as she started to sway gently.
"But there's no music," Jasmine objected.
"Yes, there is. You just have to listen more closely."
They started to sway together — awkwardly at first as Jasmine mentally shifted gears, but soon they found themselves gliding across the marble floor to an ethereal music that emanated from their souls. Gazing into Hermione's still-glowing eyes, Jasmine could see the depth of her love and desire, the same love and desire she herself felt, and she knew that nothing would ever be the same after that night. The shy, lonely girls who had arrived at Hogwarts a little over four years previously were gone. Love, magic, and conflict had transformed them into powerful, confident witches who knew what they wanted — and who knew that they had found what they had always needed.
When their dancing finally brought them to the bed, Hermione pulled Jasmine into a long, deep kiss. As hands moved and clothing fell away, the torches held by each of the four statues lit up, bathing the room in dancing shadows and lights.
Their bodies moved together in a slow, deliberate rhythm as they savored every moment and sensation. A gentle stroke of the finger. A tender caress of the lips. An animated flick of the tongue. Each new movement built slowly on the other, layering new and unexpected melodies together while igniting their nerves and magic until both were vibrating in anticipation and pleasure.
Their duet started with touches, but gradually all five senses were added to the mix. With each new sensation, the two witches felt springs coiling tighter and tighter somewhere deep in their abdomens. The tempo increased as they moved and intertwined, steadily building and becoming more energetic. They witnessed the glowing lights of their souls, no longer pale but now bright and brilliant. Blue and green reached out and blended into a single, luminous white as the two witches touched, tasted, and breathed in one another.
And the flames on the torches burned ever brighter.
Harmony was nurtured by each, ensuring that the other's passion was growing as hot and bright as her own. When one felt herself drawing ahead, she eased back and redoubled her focus on her partner. Back and forth they moved, rising and falling and rising again, a constant and joyful rhythm that kept taking them higher and faster.
Soon the flames on the torches burned hot enough to cause the marble walls to crack while the eyes on each of the statues' three faces glowed with barely restrained power.
After an endless time of constantly building pressure and tension, with each witch urging the other on, Hermione felt as though she were balancing on the edge of a precipice, every nerve screaming out for release. No longer able to continue, but not willing to jump without her partner, she cried out, "Stop holding back! Let go!"
The castle itself trembled as the two witches pulled each other forward to a shuddering crescendo as wave after wave of fire and lightning coursed through their bodies. In a single moment, they felt like they were falling and falling until they suddenly shattered into a million brilliant pieces; in the next moment, those pieces started drawing themselves into two wholes again — but mixed together now as pieces of each blended in seamlessly with the other.
For once, even Hermione was at a loss for words as her brain shut down from the complete overload of physical, emotional, and magical sensations and pleasure.
Jasmine was already in an exhausted sleep, black ichor oozing from her now-healing scar.
In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was reaching the end of his patience with Umbridge. For nearly half an hour she had been complaining about Jasmine Potter and Hermione Granger (both of whom she had apparently been looking for for hours), about the castle's ghosts, about annoying professors, and finally back to Miss Potter and Miss Granger again.
He had tried to be patient. He had tried to be tolerant. He had surreptitiously checked his monitoring devices and made sure that Jasmine Potter was indeed in the castle. He had tried to give hints that he had other things to do. In the final analysis, though, Dolores Umbridge was an infuriating woman whom no one could possibly tolerate in anything more than tiny doses. Even the portraits — those that hadn't left in frustration — were falling asleep rather than listen to her. He was about to summarily throw her out when the box on his desk started vibrating.
"What is that, Headmaster?" Umbridge asked suspiciously.
Dumbledore frowned, not having expected anything like this. He'd assumed that if the object inside was what he thought it was, then it would follow the previously established pattern: release a burst of dark magic, then go dormant for a time. Unless...
"Oh, it's nothing important," he said, trying to sound casual. "A magical artifact that I had brought in for study. If you would excuse me..."
Then the castle shook as a muffled scream came out of the box.
"I think there's something more going on here," Umbridge insisted. Before he could stop her, she rose from her seat, stepped around to the side of his desk, and ripped the lid off of the box. Inside was a gleaming diadem that pulsated with unstable power and screamed as if it were being tortured.
"What... what is that thing?" Umbridge demanded. Fawkes started screeching as the castle seemed to shudder, and Dumbledore didn't hesitate to act. With his wand he vanished the windows, and with the other hand he grabbed the diadem — he dared not use direct magic on it, lest that cause it to explode sooner. Instantly his mind was flooded with a desire to put it on, to keep it safe, but he refused to listen and never noticed it burning his hand. Instead he hurled it out of his window as hard as he could, then turned around and grabbed Umbridge in a bear hug, putting himself between her and the window while casting a silent shield at his back.
"What in Merlin's name do you think you're—"
The explosion occurred a few meters outside Dumbledore's office and it deafened both of the human occupants. The magical and sonic shockwave from the blast shredded Dumbledore's robe as well as much of what was on his shelves. The destruction was so great that he would never notice that all of the delicate devices which he had tied to Jasmine Potter's blood also exploded independently right after the diadem did, peppering Umbridge's back with dozens of wounds as bits of magic-infused shrapnel were embedded deep under her skin.
Most of the portraits were damaged, too. Those former headmasters who hadn't fled to alternate frames were cowering in the corners, desperate to know what had happened but terrified that it might happen again.
Dumbledore and Umbridge both collapsed onto the office floor, stunned by the incredible explosion. Fawkes, who had been protected by a wall, flashed out of the office to fetch Madam Pomfrey.
In Little Hangleton, the quiet night was rocked by an explosion in a forgotten, dilapidated shack as an old ring screamed and tore itself apart. An even older stone was launched by the explosion high into the atmosphere and landed far, far away. When nearby residents finally reached the shack, they found it completely burned down with barely any trace left that it had ever existed.
In a manor in Wiltshire, an unnaturally large snake writhed and screamed next to its unconscious master. It twisted on itself with so much force that its spine broke in several places, leaving the snake unconscious and barely alive. The only Death Eater brave enough to enter the throne room to investigate the screaming immediately sent word to Severus Snape at Hogwarts.
Sunday, October 31, 1995, Night.
When Jasmine finally woke up, she was naked, sore, sticky, and feeling better than she ever had before. Those good feelings only improved when she felt an equally naked and sticky Hermione wrapped around her. Jasmine shifted herself, hoping to find a slightly more comfortable position, but in the process she woke Hermione, who yawned, stretched, and finally turned to look into her eyes.
"Hey, you," Hermione said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired, sore... absolutely fantastic," Jasmine answered. "You?"
"Pretty much the same," Hermione replied as she used her hand to stroke up and down Jasmine's side.
"I feel... I feel like something has awoken in me," Jasmine continued. "It's... it's hard to describe. It's like I was asleep before, going through the motions. But now..."
"I know what you mean — I feel the same. Awake. Refreshed. Invigorated."
"Powerful," Jasmine concluded. "Is this what it feels like to be married?"
"I doubt it feels this way for everyone," Hermione said thoughtfully. "In fact, I'm not sure it even feels this way for every couple that completes a soul bond. I think we were channeling a lot of power that wasn't our own, and that must have affected us."
"Well, more's the pity for them, then." After a pause, Jasmine said. "So, I guess we finally went all the way this time?"
Hermione snorted. "All the way? I think we made a couple of round trips on that train."
"Were you able to figure out what exactly it is that counts as going all the way?"
"No," Hermione answered, "though I don't think it was any one thing. Instead, it simply came down to us and our intentions. There was no single act that could have done it for us. It depended on what we wanted from the experience. On what we intended for each other and for our relationship."
"Will and intent?" Jasmine said with a knowing look.
Hermione nodded, then sat up to gaze around the room. Seeing cracked, charred walls, she asked, "Did we do all of that?"
Jasmine sat up as well to see what Hermione was talking about. "I wouldn't have thought so, but you did say something about channeling a lot of extra power. I hope we didn't, you know, break the castle or anything."
"We should probably get out of here," Hermione said as she stretched again, giving Jasmine all kinds of delightful ideas for why they shouldn't go anywhere yet. When she reached out and pulled Hermione back down next to her, she shared a few of those ideas and found that Hermione liked them as much as she did, so they made a few more round trips.
Sunday, October 31, 1995, Late Night.
When Albus Dumbledore woke, he wasn't feeling nearly so refreshed or invigorated. Instead, he felt like the Hogwarts Express had run him over... then stopped, gone into reverse, and run him over again, just to be sure.
Several times.
He groaned as he put a heavily bandaged hand on his head and tried to figure out what had happened. Slowly the memories started to return: the box. Umbridge. Boredom. Screaming. Pain. He tried to sit up and groaned even louder, then a hand pressed down on his chest, ending his attempt to sit.
"None of that, now," he heard Madam Pomfrey say. "You've been severely injured."
"Do you know what happened?" he asked.
"Something exploded outside your office window," came the voice of Professor McGonagall. "According to the portraits — at least those brave enough to still be in your office when I went in to check — it was something you threw out the window. Care to share with us what that was?"
"No, not right now. What of Madam Umbridge?"
"She was injured badly, too," Pomfrey said. "Her back was riddled with magic-infused metal of some sort, and it's going to take me a while to extract it all. Then I'll need to determine whether the magic in the shrapnel has harmed her, so she'll be in here for at least a day, maybe two."
Dumbledore's eyes flew open as a distant memory surged into his consciousness. "Minerva!" he croaked out. Her face appeared above him, etched with worry. "Help me sit up."
"Albus, you know better than that," she chastised him. "Poppy still needs to—"
"No!" he said as forcefully as he could, though it still came out as a hoarse whisper. "This is absolutely vital. There's a job that needs to be done. I should be the one to do it, but if I'm stuck in this bed, then you... yes, that might work. I might be able to do more good from here, but you'll have a lot to do as well. You and Poppy both."
"Whatever are you talking about, Albus?" McGonagall looked up and away from him. "Poppy? Are you sure he didn't hit his head?"
"I promise you I am not delusional," Dumbledore insisted. "I have an arrangement with Madam Bones to get rid of Minister Fudge." At their shocked expressions, he clarified, "To get him out of the Ministry for a day. I assure you, I am not conspiring to assassinate the man." Not that that solution wouldn't simplify matters... he thought with an inward sigh. "It will take work and careful timing, however."
"Explain," McGonagall said, and explain he did. Once both women understood what was going on, they discussed various ways they could make Umbridge's condition appear worse in a manner that would keep Fudge around as long as possible. While Dumbledore continued to rest, McGonagall left to floo Madam Bones and give her the code word because she wouldn't recognize McGonagall's patronus. Bones promised to start contacting people she trusted and to let McGonagall know when the best time was for Fudge to be summoned. She would then get the trial organized while Minerva or someone else ensured that Sirius Black got to the Ministry at the right time.
When McGonagall later floo'd to Grimmauld Place to deliver the news, she was horrified to find Sirius passed out drunk, far beyond the ability of her sobering charms to help.