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 "Season of Change" by Branchwraith. Harry Potter assumed that he had been born male — after all, he'd been male for as long as he could remember. During the summer after his fifth year, however, he discovers that things aren't so cut and dried after all.

Trigger Warning: There is an instance of sexual assault appearing late in the chapter. The scene cuts off before any actual violence occurs, but some may find the lead-up to be psychologically disturbing.

Chapter 28 - Season of the Witch

Tuesday, November 16, 1995, Evening.

After defense practice — which in the wake of the October attack on Hogsmeade was increasingly becoming a combat practice — the Slytherin members of the study group held everyone back to discuss Theodore Nott. "We still haven't been able to figure out what he's up to," Daphne said, "but whatever it is, it can't be good."

"He started out the term as arrogant as Malfoy," Tracey said, "but not long into September he started acting more and more withdrawn. Worried. Nervous. He almost never volunteers in class anymore, and his classwork is barely adequate."

"He's constantly absent from the common room," Daphne said. "but we haven't been able to track him to wherever he's going. And he only rarely takes Crabbe or Goyle with him, so we can't use those two."

"I don't think he sleeps much," Blaise added. "We've never been friends, and he's never confided in me, but... well, living in the same dorm with a person for several years gives you insights, if you know what to watch for."

"And you still haven't been able to see if he has a Dark Mark?" Ginny asked. Blaise simply shook his head.

"Snape has to know, surely?" Hermione said. "If Nott is doing worse in his classes, Snape must know that, at least. Do you know if he's said or done anything about it?"

"We've been able to spot a couple of conversations," Daphne answered. "Snape never looks angry, like you might expect. If anything, it's Nott who looks angry. He's usually... stiff, unresponsive. Like he doesn't want to deal with whatever it is Snape is telling him. When it's over, Nott walks away while Snape looks disturbed."

"Well, that can't be good," Jasmine muttered.

"No, it can't," Neville agreed. "Thanks for letting us know. Anything else to report?" The others all shook their heads. "I guess we'll have to keep our eyes open. Let us know if anything changes with Nott. Whatever he's doing, I think we can be pretty sure that it isn't good for the school or for us."

Thursday, November 18, 1995. Morning.

"What's the point of this?" Jasmine asked Hermione.

"The point of what?" Neville said as he walked up behind them.

"It's Educational Decree Number Forty-Eight," Hermione answered, pointing at the new parchment being displayed outside the Great Hall. "Any complaints about Hogwarts or its staff must be made in writing to the Chief Inquisitor."

"I guess that shouldn't be a surprise," Ginny pointed out. "I mean, she'd want complaints about her to go right to her, making it easy to ignore them. And she's supposed to be 'inspecting' the staff, so of course she'd want to see those complaints. The question is, why now?"

"Has anything changed recently?" Neville asked.

"Quidditch!" Jasmine exclaimed. When they others looked at her in confusion, she continued, "Remember, she banned all Quidditch games last week — and as a result, all broom flying, too. Everyone was furious! I'll bet loads of students wrote home to their parents, and I'll bet loads of parents gave the Ministry an earful!"

"So this new decree makes it a violation of the rules to complain to your parents about something Umbridge or any other teacher does?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "How can that stupid woman possibly think that it's wrong for a student to complain to their own parents?"

"Be careful what you say," Ginny added. "In theory, even complaining to each other like this might qualify as a violation of the new rule."

"Yeah, don't give her an excuse," Neville agreed.

Friday, November 19, 1995, Evening.

Hermione, Jasmine, Ginny, Neville, and Ron were all startled from their essay-writing when the twins abruptly dropped into the spare seats at their table in the Gryffindor common room. "We come bearing gifts!" said one twin cheerily.

"A box full of gifts!" said the other as he set a box on the table in front of the younger students.

"You two aren't Greek by any chance?" Hermione asked warily.

"You wound us!" said the second twin.

"I'm surprised that you're so distrustful," said the first.

"I'm surprised you understood that reference," Jasmine said.

"Now you really wound us," one said with a bit of a pout.

"Unlike some Weasleys," said the other, eyeing Ron without even trying to be subtle, "we read things that aren't required in our classes."

"Oi!" Ron objected.

"Enough," Hermione cut in. "What's in here?"

"You're only getting what you asked for."

"Not filling me with confidence, here," Hermione responded dryly.

"Fine, then," the second twin said with a huff as he opened the box and revealed a stack of the most recent issue of The Quibbler. It head a caricature of Umbridge proudly displayed on the cover, showing her morphing back and forth between human and toad. Underneath was the headline:

STUDENTS TAKING UMBRAGE WITH MINISTRY TYRANNY!

"You did it!" Jasmine exclaimed.

"How did you manage it so quickly?" Neville asked as he reached out and took the top issue, never noticing as his hair slowly started turning green.

"Ask us no questions," the first twin said as they stood up.

"And we'll tell you no lies," the second finished as they walked away.

"Pfft," Ginny exclaimed, eying Neville's hair as it shifted from green to purple. "Like that would ever stop them from misleading us." With a quick wave of her wand she dispelled the jinx that had been put on Neville while Hermione cast several detection charms on the rest before handing them out to the Gryffindor subscribers. "I'll make sure that Luna gets the rest tomorrow," Ginny added. "She knows who all the other subscribers are and will ensure that the right people get them."

Neville immediately started reading a background piece by Luna on the history of toad demons and their mating habits, but Hermione and Jasmine focused on the articles which they had helped write — all under pseudonyms, of course. The first, "Ministry Oppression at Hogwarts," they'd written together with Luna about all the things Umbridge had been doing to students in the name of enforcing loyalty to the Ministry.

The second, "Witches and Magic," had been written with the help of Fleur and explained some of the more interesting aspects of feminine magic. The focus was mostly on the sort of magic used in rituals, but without mentioning rituals specifically, given how the Ministry frowned on them. Hermione had originally wanted to use Pureheart's book to write something more radical, but Jasmine had successfully argued that it was better to start discreetly. After all, they couldn't be sure that Mr. Lovegood would accept even a moderate article, but if he did and if it went over well, then they could push the boundaries bit by bit in future installments.

It had been tough for Hermione to not charge forward, but in the end they had crafted an article that Mr. Lovegood had been thrilled to receive. Unbeknownst to them, his wife had been a strong proponent of witches learning and practicing feminine magic, so he not only accepted the article, but encouraged the two Gryffindors to teach what they knew to Luna. It wasn't something Mr. Lovegood himself understood well enough to teach, and his wife had died before she could impart much to their daughter, which compounded his regrets.

Unfortunately, it was right after that letter that Umbridge's censorship came into full effect, and they hadn't heard anything since. If no other alternatives presented themselves soon, they agreed that they'd have Dobby and Winky carry letters for Mr. Lovegood when they next made a trip to Sirius.

Saturday, November 20, 1995, Afternoon.

Hermione and Jasmine were getting steadily better under Professor McGonagall's advanced tutelage, though they had to do it in the Transfiguration classroom rather than the hidden training canyon in order to avoid Umbridge noticing their absence. They had gotten to the point where they could transfigure a stone into a single lion — not a great lion, but a decent one. It wouldn't win them full marks on an exam, but when properly charmed, its victims would hardly be in a position to complain that it looked a little... off.

Still, that didn't mean that McGonagall was satisfied. One reason was simply because behavioral charms worked better on a more true-to-life target. More importantly, though, she wouldn't accept her two best and most favorite students falling short of "Outstanding."

They could also do a mass transfiguration on a pile of pebbles, turning them into a group of realistic beetles. It wasn't nearly as impressive as turning them into a pride of lions, but it was still a lot more difficult than transfiguring a single pebble into a single beetle. Fortunately, there were times when such a skill had its uses.

"Tell me why you might want to transfigure debris into something small rather than something large," McGonagall quizzed them.

"It's faster and easier," Hermione answered. "The compulsions are simpler, too."

"But what use is it?" their professor pressed.

"Stinging insects can at least be annoying and distracting," Jasmine said. "If there are enough of them, they can cause a real problem. And they might be able to target someone you can't see, assuming you can apply the right sorts of charms."

"Exactly," McGonagall said. "A dozen lions can cause a lot of damage to your enemy, but they are also easy for your enemy to target. A cloud of bees, however, can be transfigured much more quickly, can distract several enemies at once, and require something like a fire spell to stop. Even then, it will be difficult to hit enough of the bees to eliminate the distraction entirely."

"And if you're lucky, they might hit each other," Jasmine said with a smirk.

"Indeed," McGonagall responded. "Fire spells can be as dangerous to you and your allies as they are to the enemy." She gave her student a pointed look, all too aware of how much Jasmine favored exactly that sort of spell.

"What other sorts of animals are good to use for transfiguration?" Hermione asked.

"There are several large mammals that are good for attack," McGonagall replied. "Any of the big cats will work well as individuals. Canines like wolves will work together. I'd stay away from anything too large, like a bear, because it will take too much effort to create even a couple of them. Stinging insects will distract and harass. Snakes may avoid notice due to their size, but the venom of transfigured animals isn't as strong as that of real ones and almost certainly isn't deadly." She turned towards Jasmine as she concluded, "You're better off summoning snakes if you want to use your... unique skills to command them." Jasmine nodded and looked thoughtful.

"Not every situation calls for an attack, though," McGonagall went on. "Transfigured dogs can be left behind to give warning of anyone sneaking up on you. That's one situation where something as large as a bear might be useful."

"What about magical animals?" Jasmine asked.

"You may be able to create something with the form of a magical animal," McGonagall answered, "but it won't have their magical abilities. Remember, these animals aren't real. Just as transfigured pigs cannot reproduce and transfigured snakes cannot deliver genuinely deadly venom, a transfigured bird that looks like a phoenix will not be able to travel like a real phoenix or provide tears that heal. You cannot imbue it with the innate magic of the genuine article."

The rest of the afternoon was split between transfiguring pebbles into a small group of pesky flies and improving the details on their transfigured lions.

Saturday, November 20, 1995, Evening.

Albus Dumbledore sat uncomfortably, sipping tea and trying to relax. He was seeing improvement, but his recovery was going far too slowly — he had a great deal that he needed to do and not a lot of time to do it in. He had intended to have a meeting earlier in the month with Miss Potter and Miss Granger to discuss another pensieve memory of Tom, but now it looked like next Saturday would be the best he could manage.

In lieu of going out and doing things that needed to be done, he'd been focusing on tasks that could be accomplished while sitting quietly in his office, like research. Even that took him much longer than normal, but he was making progress.

Something is destroying Tom's horcruxes, he thought, and after three months I've finally found the thread that links all the incidents. The bad news, aside from the fact that I nearly died in discovering it, is that I've only found the barest tip of the thread — there is clearly much more going on here.

April 30, Beltane. September 22, the Autumnal Equinox. October 31, Samhain. All days of power. All dates on which one of Tom's horcruxes exploded. But... what else? he asked himself with a frown. Those haven't been the only days of power over the last few months, so there must be some other ingredient that I'm missing. My best guess is that someone is using the power of those dates to fuel a ritual of some sort, but what sort of ritual? A ritual aimed at Tom, or one aimed somewhere else with Tom's horcruxes getting caught by accident? Might it even be Tom himself, accidently damaging his own horcruxes? Who in wizarding Britain besides Tom might know enough about those old dates to do such a thing, let alone have the ability to perform such powerful rituals?

Or maybe not Britain? Dumbledore realized as he sat up a bit straighter. Some of those visiting witches held some sort of ritual celebration on Beltane while I was out of the castle. At least some of them were veela, so it's unlikely any of them were working for Tom. That was the only date they were here, though, so it wouldn't explain what happened on the other dates... at least, not directly. If some British witches and wizards attended, they might have been taught or simply inspired to continue after the visitors had left. That could explain where the knowledge might have come from, but not the reasons for or possible targets of the rituals.

Dumbledore shook his head. I'll need to pull out some of the really old books to study the lore about these days more closely. It's been so long since I've even thought about them that I missed the significance of the dates the first two times a horcrux exploded. Merlin initiated the suppression of magical and ritual celebrations of those dates for good reasons, and not because they gave people excuses to engage in inappropriate public behavior. No, the power produced by rituals performed on such days cannot be predicted or controlled — he learned that the hard way when he found himself unable to quench Morgana's lust and ambition. There's no telling what forces even an amateur might unleash these days, never mind someone with experience.

If someone is playing around with magical rituals, I'll thank them for helping me with Tom... right before I put a stop to their dangerous activities.

Sunday, November 21, 1995, Afternoon.

"My Lord," Snape said as he bowed low, worried that the Dark Lord would strike him dead right there and then for failing to save Nagini. Although in some ways the man had been acting a bit calmer recently, the disappearance of both Wormtail and Narcissa — at one time his favorite cursing targets — had also made him unpredictable when it came to punishments.

"I know you're afraid, Severus," Voldemort said. "Your inability to save Our familiar was... most distressing. However, you did manage to help Us, and that has earned you enough favor with Us that We will not punish you for your failure with Nagini."

"Thank you, my Lord," Snape replied, allowing his relief to show.

"Now, tell Us what you have to report."

"Last month, you instructed me to find out more about the witches who interfered with the attack on Hogsmeade—" Snape began, but he was almost immediately interrupted.

"We have already been informed of their identities," Voldemort announced. "Young Draco Malfoy was most helpful in that regard. It seems he continued to carefully observe Potter's movements and associations right through the end of last term."

Snape winced inwardly. It had been his plan to nudge Draco into revealing that information so that he himself wouldn't be caught between the Dark Lord's demands and his oaths to Dumbledore. Unfortunately, judging by his tone of voice, it didn't sound like Draco's participation had been entirely voluntary.

"One thing We are still uncertain about is the nature of Potter's involvement with those witches," Voldemort continued. "Draco's memories make it look as though they simply studied together, but is that all? What do you have to say on that matter, Severus?"

"Potter is part of a regular study group that is comprised almost entirely of witches, with only a few young wizards joining in," Snape explained, choosing his words carefully. His oaths to Dumbledore allowed him to say anything that downplayed Potter's skills or knowledge — not that that was difficult. "Currently, they seem to be focused on practical defense training."

"Training?" Voldemort asked, his interest piqued.

"I do not know how or why, but I imagine that Potter started this group in order to get help to make up for her own deficiencies. As I have told you before, she is an inferior witch at best and constantly needs help to keep up with her classmates. The only subject where she does have a modicum of skill is Defense, and from what I learned, I think she may be helping her peers with Defense in exchange for their help in other subjects."

"Interesting," Voldemort said absently. "So the ability of those witches in Hogsmeade is due to help from Potter, to the fact that they've spent more time working on defense because of Potter, or both?"

"That seems like the most reasonable conclusion, My Lord," Snape answered.

"Would you say that they spend much time together?" Voldemort asked. "That they have all become... close?"

"I believe so, my Lord," Snape answered, then suppressed a shiver when he saw the Dark Lord smile.

Monday, November 22, 1995, Morning.

"I wonder if those regulations apply across Britain, or are only enforced here at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked as they entered the Great Hall.

"I doubt Fudge has reached the point where he's able to do that all across Britain," Jasmine answered. "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd like to, but I don't think people would put up with it — especially now that Sirius is free and can't be used as a scapegoat."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked as they sat down across from him.

"Oh, look, there's Hagrid!" Jasmine said suddenly, pointing up at the staff table. All three waved, pleased to see him but worried because he looked like he'd been in a fight with a rogue bludger — and lost pretty decisively.

"Didn't you see the newest Educational Decree?" Hermione asked when they turned back to their breakfasts.

Ron frowned. "There are so many out there now, how do you tell when there's something new?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's Number Seventy-Four and states that 'All owls must be tagged to comply with owl post Ministry censorship legislations.' We were discussing whether Ministry censorship applies only to Hogwarts, or all of Britain."

"That's barmy!" Ron exclaimed. "Why would anyone think they can get away—" Ron stopped in mid-rant and went a bit bug-eyed. Jasmine and Hermione realized what that must mean, but they were a half-second too late.

"You two!" came the annoying voice from behind them. "You're responsible for this, aren't you? Admit it!"

Turning in their seats, they found themselves confronted by Umbridge, who was waving a copy of The Quibbler in their faces.

"Whatever do you mean?" Jasmine asked in as innocent a voice as she could muster. She concluded that she must not have been successful when Umbridge started turning purple again.

"You know very well what I mean!" she snapped. "You wrote this article about me, didn't you! Or at the very least you provided all of the information!"

"Why do you think we'd do something like that? Hermione asked sweetly.

"Because you've done it before!" Umbridge screeched. "You know that I know that your goal is to bring down both the Minister and the Ministry! You're trying to sow the seeds of dissent by lying about our government!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Jasmine saw the Headmaster approaching, so she asked, "Why do you possess a banned item, Madam Umbridge?"

"What?" Umbridge asked, caught up short by the unexpected question. "What are you talking about, you silly girl?"

"Excuse me, but what seems to be the problem here?" Dumbledore asked when he finally reached them.

Before Umbridge could answer, Hermione piped up. "Madam Umbridge was about to explain to us why she is in possession of an item which the Ministry has so thoughtfully banned from school."

Dumbledore raised one eyebrow, then looked at Umbridge and asked, "Is this true? Are you in violation of Ministry regulations, Madam Umbridge?"

"What?" she asked. "I... I don't... I mean, I'm..."

Dumbledore looked down at her hands and saw The Quibbler. "Ah, the most recent issue, I take it?" he asked as he reached out his hand. She seemed to almost automatically turn it over. "Yes, it is the most recent one," he said. "You definitely acquired this and brought it into the school after the ban went into effect."

"But I'm the Chief Inquisitor!" she protested.

"Indeed," Dumbledore conceded, "but you are also a member of staff here — something you and the Minister took great pains to make sure I understood when you arrived. If you'll remember, you also made a point of informing us that the ban on this publication also applied to staff: 'no exceptions,' I believe, was how you put it. That would, quite naturally, include you."

Dumbledore's eyes shifted over to Hermione and Jasmine, and they were sure they could see a brief twinkle in them before he turned back to the Pink Toad Lady. "Since this is your first offense, I'm willing to be overlook it. However, I must caution you to not be so cavalier with the rules in the future. The Ministry has created these regulations for our protection, and I'd hate to see what might happen to you if you were to continue flouting them."

Umbridge stammered and sputtered until she finally gave up trying to form a coherent sentence and stomped off. Dumbledore, who had maintained possession of said magazine, eyed the offending object thoughtfully. "I look forward to reading what all the fuss is about," he said with a nod to Luna, then departed himself.

Monday, November 22, 1995, Evening.

Albus Dumbledore sat looking at the most recent issue of The Quibbler, a contemplative yet concerned look on his face. He'd never paid the publication much attention before, not caring about mysterious magical creatures and conspiracy theories, but the recent articles dealing with politics had been surprisingly interesting. The current issue's article about Umbridge was no exception, but that wasn't what had him worried.

No, it was the article entitled "Witches and Magic."

None of this information is technically proscribed, he thought, which is lucky for Xeno, because he'll be in enough trouble over the political articles. Then again, with everyone focused on the politics, the other material might slip past unnoticed. Could that have been deliberate? I might have overlooked it myself if it weren't for the fact that I've been studying the traditional rituals performed on the ancient magical holidays — rituals which incorporate feminine magic of exactly the sort written about here.

Dumbledore leaned back and closed his eyes as he tried to remember everything he could about Xenophilius Lovegood, yet he couldn't come up with anything subversive or dangerous. The man had been an intelligent and curious Ravenclaw while in Hogwarts, but somewhere along the line he had developed a fascination for strange animals and conspiracies. Dumbledore wasn't sure if they were a sign of him being unusually perceptive or merely barmy. Or maybe both.

Regardless, Dumbledore couldn't remember anything about him or his family which suggested that they had delved into Dark Arts, ancient rituals, or anything else which the Ministry had banned or restricted. That doesn't mean they haven't been hiding it, however, he was forced to conclude. Even if he is involved, I doubt that he alone could be performing rituals powerful enough to destroy Tom's horcruxes, whether that's the rituals' aim or if it's a side effect. Maybe if I can identify who else might be involved, that will give me better insight into what's going on and who these authors are. Since his daughter was in Hogwarts on the dates in question, she probably hasn't been involved. I'll need to discover who else writes for his publication and whom he most often associates with.

Saturday, November 27, 1995, Late Morning.

"I've seen Zonko's when they're busy. I've seen Honeydukes get mobbed. I've even seen Madam Puddifoot's with all the tables full. But I have never, ever seen the Owl Post Office packed like that," Jasmine said.

"There are even students lined up, waiting outside to get in," Hermione observed. "What do you think... oh! I know!" The others all looked at her quizzically. "It's the Ministry censorship at Hogwarts," she explained. "If the owls here aren't tagged or monitored, students can send messages home from here!"

"Yeah, well, that probably won't last long," Jasmine said dejectedly. She turned to the others. "If any of you want to contact your families with any semblance of privacy, you'd better do it now — don't trust that this loophole will remain open past today." Everyone looked at each other, then Ginny and Neville both went to stand in the long line, but not before making arrangements to meet at the Three Broomsticks later. Jasmine and Hermione continued on with Gabrielle close behind — currently visible, because of the crowd.

"Do you think we should offer the help of Dobby and Winky?" Jasmine asked.

Hermione sighed deeply. "Maybe, but only in emergencies. They always look so tired after travelling all of the way to London and back. I think that a trip that far takes a lot out of them, and I don't think it would be right to keep exhausting them for mail delivery."

"I know, I mean for when we're sending messages anyway," Jasmine responded. "I doubt it's any harder to take a dozen letters than to take only one."

"True," Hermione agreed, "but if we keep relying on them to make our problems go away with a snap of their fingers, we'll end up making things worse for ourselves in the long run. We should try to limit ourselves to asking for their help as a last resort. Like with the basilisk — getting anyone else down there to do it would have been nearly impossible and taken a lot longer."

Jasmine nodded, having heard this argument in various forms before. It wasn't that she didn't agree, it was simply that she hated wasting time trying to discover a non-existent solution when there was already a feasible one at hand.

"Alright, we'll keep looking for other alternatives," Jasmine said.

During their entire trip in Hogsmeade, they and their friends never once let their guard down. Between the attack at the beginning of October and the assault on Katie Bell, everyone was worried about what would happen next.

Saturday, November 27, 1995, Evening.

"You may find tonight's memories a bit more... disturbing than the earlier ones," Dumbledore said. "These involve a witch who was ill-treated by young Tom Riddle while they were here at Hogwarts. I want to make sure you understand what he has always thought about witches, muggleborn, and anyone else he considers inferior to himself. Perhaps even more importantly, I want you to understand how central his sadism is to his personality."

"Was he punished for what he did to this witch?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore replied. "I was unaware of what happened at the time, in part because I was distracted by events in Europe. Even if I had suspected... well, Tom had by that point become rather proficient with memory charms. He could not erase the underlying trauma, which produced significant changes in behavior that I eventually learned about, but he did suppress the specific memories. I would not have been allowed to delve into her mind to retrieve the original memories without Ministry authorization, and since she was a muggleborn..."

He didn't need to finish that sentence — the girls knew full well that as bad as the Ministry's attitude towards muggleborn was now, it was worse in the past.

"So how did you get this memory, then?" Hermione asked.

"My research into Tom's past led me to her," Dumbledore answered. "As I said, her change in behavior was noticed by others, and my interviews of her classmates suggested that she might have something useful to share. Once I realized that she had probably been obliviated, I got her consent to enter her mind and free her from the spell. As proficient as young Tom may have been, he was still a teenager when he did this, and by that point it had been quite a few years since the spells had been cast. It wasn't too difficult to restore her memories."

A shadow crossed Dumbledore's expression then, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was still the aftereffects of his mysterious injuries, or if there was something important he wasn't telling them.

"Well, let's move along, shall we?" the old man said briskly, and now his tone definitely struck her as whistling in the dark. She refrained from commenting, however, and quietly accompanied Jasmine into the Headmaster's pensieve.

She almost wished she hadn't.

"What are we doing here, Tom?" the young witch asked. Hermione thought she was rather plain looking, but pensieve memories always seemed a bit distorted and washed out to her, so she supposed that the witch might have been prettier than this memory could reveal.

"The same thing we always do here," Riddle drawled. Hermione could feel Jasmine shiver next to her and supposed that the sound of his voice, now a bit older and more mature than in the other pensieve trips, was bringing back some of Jasmine's own bad memories. Hermione thought she could see the handsome, charismatic man that he would eventually become, but his current smug attitude overrode any attractiveness he might possess.

"Wh-what?" the witch asked. "I've never been here with you."

"But of course you have!" Riddle said confidently, and Hermione noticed that he cast several silent spells behind his back, presumably to lock and silence the door. "I'm hurt that you don't remember." He paused, then dramatically snapped his fingers as if he'd remembered something. "Oh, that's right, of course you don't remember, mudblood! I obliviated you after I was done with you the last time!"

The witch's eyes went wide in shock as she started shaking her head violently. "N-no, that's not possible!"

"And the time before that," Riddle continued as he stalked towards her. "And the time before that, and the time before that! Why, I've lost count of how many times we've been here together."

"No!" the witch insisted as she tried to draw her wand, but Riddle already had his in his hand, and with a lazy flick he disarmed her. "Tut, tut, tut," he said condescendingly as he waggled her wand for emphasis. "I'd be offended that you tried to use magic against one of your betters, mudblood, but the truth is that you react in exactly the same way every time. It's almost boring now. Because you get such good grades in class, I'd have thought you intelligent and creative enough to eventually offer a different response, but I guess not. You're book-smart, but at the same time, not very smart at all, are you, mudblood?"

Hermione put her hand over her mouth, trying to force herself not to be sick.

All this time, the witch kept backing away from Riddle as he continued stalking towards her, completely unconcerned with her reactions. "You won't get away with this, Tom!"

He laughed cruelly at her protests. "Of course I'll get away with it! I've already gotten away with it, mudblood. Over and over and over. It's not even a challenge anymore! You're just a dirty mudblood who always has her nose in her books, who doesn't socialize, and who doesn't have any friends. No one will notice that your absence, and no one will notice that you're acting a bit... oddly for a while once you return. No one will know. No one will care. You isolated yourself from other students, thinking that if you could prove to everyone how smart and clever you were, that they'd finally accept you — that they'd accept that you belong in the wizarding world."

The witch's eyes widened even further at how well Riddle apparently knew her. Jasmine put her arm around Hermione's shoulder.

"It would never have worked, of course, because a mudblood with good grades is still a disgusting mudblood, just a more annoying one now. No, all you did by isolating yourself from the rest of the herd is make it easier for me to get you alone. Again."

"I'll scream, Tom!" she said as she found her back against the wall.

He laughed again, but this time in what sounded like genuine amusement. "Of course you'll scream, little mudblood witch. Why do you think I silenced the door instead of you? Why do you think I haven't used any spells to make you more pliable, like a Confundus Charm or even an Imperius Curse?"

Finally Riddle was standing in front of her, looking down and leering at her. "I want you to scream, witch," he said in an eager voice. "That's what keeps me coming back to you over and over again. That's why you're my favorite little mudblood right now."

Hermione suddenly felt herself pulling away from the scene. "First we need to get rid of these clothes. We don't want to get them messed up, do we?" she heard Tom's voice continue in the distance. "Now, little witch, scream for me. Scream for me again and again..." Hermione was sure she could just start to hear a terrified shriek when she found herself back in the headmaster's office. Before her brain could process the sudden shift in locations, she was kneeling on the floor next to the pensieve, emptying her stomach of everything she'd eaten that day.

Fawkes trilled nearby and it helped, but only a little. Jasmine kneeling next to her, one arm around her shoulders and one hand holding back her hair, helped more.

After a minute Jasmine helped her up and guided her to the chairs in front of the headmaster's desk. The ancient wizard flicked his wand and vanished the sick from the floor.

"Why did you show us that?" Jasmine demanded. "That was awful!"

"As I said, I want you to understand how sadistic he is," Dumbledore responded. "You already know many things about him — his violence, his support of blood supremacism, his ego, etc. None of it, however, is as central a feature of his personality as his sadism is. He didn't torture that poor girl because she defied him, nor did he do it because he hated her muggle heritage. He did it simply because it gave him pleasure. I know you've experienced some of that sadism personally, Miss Potter."

"I think I could have managed to learn that without seeing the last minute or so," Hermione said bleakly.

"I apologize for that," he said sincerely. "I had intended to pull you out of the memory a few seconds earlier. Unfortunately, my reaction time isn't quite as fast as it used to be."

"There's... there's more?" Jasmine asked, a horrified look on her face.

"Oh, yes, quite a bit more," the Headmaster said sadly. "Even before he became Lord Voldemort, he was always a patient man. Patient in pursuing his goals. Patient when waiting for the right time to act. Patient... even in his cruelty."

"And you've seen it all?" Jasmine asked. "All of that memory, I mean?"

"Miss Potter, it's impossible to restore a suppressed memory without... experiencing it alongside the person you are trying to help." The old man's face looked haggard with pain. "Not merely witness, but experience."

"She wasn't the only one, was she?" Jasmine asked.

"No, I'm quite sure that she was not," Dumbledore admitted. "However, she was the only one I've ever tracked down. I... I've been reluctant to try again."

"How... how can you possibly deal with..." Hermione tried to ask, not sure how to even begin to discuss such a thing.

Dumbledore sighed. "By cheating, Miss Granger. I'm not ashamed to say that I cheated. I do not believe that Tom was being overly dramatic when he said he'd lost count of how many times he'd done that — I think he was sincere. That's how many horrible memories I unblocked in that poor young witch. Perhaps even worse was the fact that all of the blocks were linked, so when I released one, they all came undone at once, flooding us both with scores of subjective hours of... well, I'd rather not go into the details. When I finally exited her mind, I found myself unable to properly deal with the experiences I'd just endured. Once I managed to find my way back to Hogwarts, I was almost catatonic in my quarters for several days, trying and failing to process what I had experienced in her mind. "

Dumbledore made an effort to collect himself, clearly still struggling with what had happened. "Finally I used a spell to extract the memories — not a copy, but the memories themselves. Dozens and dozens of them. Technically the memories weren't entirely removed, but all I can access are hints and flashes. Even those are horrible enough, and it took me weeks of Occlumency work to shut those away as well. I still know what happened, in a general and clinical sense, but the emotional experience is no longer there."

"And the witch?" Jasmine asked, unable to keep a tremor from her voice. "Were you able to help her, too?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked much, much older as he slumped in his chair. "As for that, I... I think that I made a grave mistake with her," he said slowly. "As hard as it was for me to deal with the memories of all of those incidents, it was even worse for her. Not only was she suddenly inundated with the memories of so many horrific assaults, but she also just as suddenly learned why her behavior had changed so much during her Hogwarts years. Why she slipped from the top of her class to near the bottom. Why she broke contact with her family and friends. Why she drifted from job to job in the muggle world, never able to form relationships or to stay in one place."

The Headmaster removed his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes. "Once I had removed the memories from my mind and was functional again, I immediately returned to her home... but I was too late. She had already taken her own life by then. I... I'm not sure what I should have done differently. Perhaps I should have had an experienced Mind Healer with me. Perhaps I shouldn't have left her alone. I... I don't know."

Lost in his own self-recriminations and grief, he didn't look up when the two young witches stood and moved towards the door. Jasmine was looking particularly hollow-eyed, and Hermione placed a hand on her shoulder in support. Before she closed the door behind her, Hermione turned back to the office and said, "You know, Headmaster, any sort of mental assault is still assault."

He looked up at her, startled, apparently only then noticing that they were leaving. "Physical force and assault aren't the only sort of violence out there," she continued softly. "Forcing oneself into someone's mind for your own purposes is still a form of violence, no matter how gentle you imagine you're being." Dumbledore's face paled slightly as the significance of her words sank home.

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to be burdened by all of those experiences," she continued, "but perhaps by going as far as you did to remove that burden, you also forgot what it's like to be the victim of someone who's only using you for their own personal ends? Maybe when you forget how a victim feels, it becomes easier to ignore how certain actions are crimes at all."

She gazed at him steadily for a long moment, then closed the door, leaving him alone again.

Fawkes trilled in distress at the emotional currents swirling in the room. Lifting his voice in song, the phoenix tried to soothe the anguish and pain coming through the bond, just as he had so many times in the past. After a few minutes, though, he stopped and looked at his companion in confusion. For the first time in the immortal bird's memory, that song hadn't improved the old wizard's mood.