Notes: First of all, I really appreciate the reviews and interest in this story, so please don't take this the wrong way. There are also a few of you who have been reviewing who have been quite detailed and/or specific. But if possible, I'd love to know from more of you what you specifically like (or dislike! Con crit doesn't offend me) about this story, just a sentence or two. I'm doing some things with this fic (and there are more to come) that are a tad off the beaten path for this pairing/setup (time travel to the 40s), and I'd like to know how they go over. It really means a lot to writers to receive feedback of any kind, but especially feedback about specific things we write. Thanks so much!
Chapter Nine: Propaganda Restriction
When Druella Rosier finally emerged from the infirmary, she walked into the seventh year girls' dormitory with wary, rather frightened eyes. She also had not a single word to say to Hermione. Tom had been correct, apparently.
It was something of a relief not to be the target of this girl's juvenile baiting, but Hermione was still not happy about it. It was obvious to her that Druella had been jealous of Hermione over Tom's attention, and probably dissatisfied with her own arranged betrothal to a fourth year boy. Hermione could not particularly blame her for that. Her conduct had been annoying, but it was just typical Hogwarts fare to Hermione. She had lived through so much that such things did not bother her beyond the initial spark of anger. Tom's reaction to it was, in her view, completely out of proportion—and all the more so since he had indicated that, in part, the cursing was because of a person who did not even exist yet.
More troubling was the fact that, as far as she could see, she had helped Tom. "I know what not to do," he had said. The implications of that were profoundly disturbing.
And yet, if he did not adopt blood purity ideology and did not become insane… would it be so bad if he sought political power? From what Hermione had learned from Harry, she knew that there were basically three options in the original timeline. He could launch a career at the Ministry, get hired at Hogwarts, or go to work at Borgin and Burkes to track down prospective Horcrux vessels. Obviously, the last option was not desirable… and the second one wouldn't happen. Even Dippet would tell him that he was too young, and Dumbledore would not ever want him as a teacher in the school. It seemed that pursuing legitimate political power was actually the best choice he could make, strange and counter-intuitive as that idea felt to Hermione.
She had just decided on this course, encouraging him in that interest, when she received a note from Dumbledore requesting a private meeting the next day.
Hermione stumbled into the Deputy Headmaster's office with her nerves on edge. She had worried and fretted the entire time that this was going to be about the Imperiusing of Roland Lestrange and the Dark Arts curse on Druella Rosier, and the prospect of discussing that was terrifying to her. If Dumbledore knew that Tom had done it and meant to get him expelled, it could be disastrous. It would leave him with no options except to run to some place like Albania and consort with the very people who would ruin everything. Or—she shuddered—he might even decide that his best option was to go to Germany and sign up with Grindelwald. Grindelwald himself, after all, had been expelled from Durmstrang, leaving him with no viable path to power except leading a violent revolution—an environment that did not exactly lend itself to moderation of views.
If it came to that, Hermione decided, she would remind Dumbledore of this fact.
"Enter," he called out when she knocked on his door.
Gingerly she stepped inside. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk smiling beatifically. It did not soothe Hermione's nerves. She took a seat in front of the desk and looked down at her hands.
"My dear Miss Green, how are you doing?"
"Well enough, Professor," she said. "I'm mostly settled in now."
"That's a good thing," Dumbledore said. "A good thing." He pushed his candy dish forward. "Please, help yourself."
Hermione took a piece of hard candy and popped it into her mouth. It was a source of stress relief to have something to focus her senses upon.
"The reason I called you here, Miss Green, is that I'm concerned about something that has… been pointed out to me. You know my family history, as you indicated the first time we met. I do not know if you know anything else, but… there was a brief time, the summer after I finished Hogwarts, in which I knew Gellert Grindelwald."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione said. "I know about that as well."
Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, as well as alarmed. Then his face shifted back in place. "I see," he said. "It seems that in the future, much that I sought to hide, out of shame, is brought forward. Undoubtedly I deserve it." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "Well, that makes this discussion shorter. Essentially, it has occurred to me that Grindelwald might know that you are not related to me, that instead you have a secret that I am helping protect, and he might target you as a result. Not as a victim of his violence, but as a tool."
He already has.
It was on the tip of her tongue to confess to Dumbledore that when she disappeared in Hogsmeade, she had not been unconscious on the edge of the forest, but in the custody of Grindelwald, and he had made her an offer. She was so close. This was Dumbledore, after all. Surely this was something he should know.
But she could not put the thought out of her mind that Dumbledore might have set her up to be targeted on purpose, to draw Grindelwald out. Tom certainly thought it a strong possibility, even if he did also think there might be another spy present. Hermione filed away on her mental to-do list that she needed to ask him more about that.
"Grindelwald is a very persuasive man," Dumbledore continued. "As you know, if you know my past. He offers people things that he cannot possibly give, but his charisma is such that he convinces them he can. I have to ask you, Miss Green, that if you ever receive communication from Grindelwald's agents, to not give it a second's consideration."
"Of course, Professor," she said in natural tones. "I have no intention of having anything to do with Grindelwald. He is a violent rabble-rouser. I am interested in politics, but nothing like that. In my own time, I wanted to join the Ministry as a career."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed approvingly. "Good. Then in that case, I think you will very much enjoy something I have helped to arrange. Professor Slughorn tells me that you are a member of his social club and attend the dinners. I have recommended a special guest for the next one, a protégé of my own, you might say, from the Ministry. Professor Slughorn has confirmed that this individual will be the guest of honor at your next dinner."
Hermione hardly knew what to think. This was not at all what she had expected the meeting to be about. However, she was so relieved that Dumbledore was not interrogating her about Tom's activities that she could not think about what it might mean.
"Of course, Professor. I look forward to it."
"And for tonight's meeting, I would like to introduce Mr. Septimus Weasley, Head of the Office of Domestic Wartime Operations in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Hermione clapped with the rest of the Slug Club members as a red-haired, bespectacled man ascended to the podium. Septimus Weasley looked and carried himself like a doppelgänger of Percy, and it was unnerving, yet another ghost from her future. As soon as he opened his mouth, she knew that this man—probably the grandfather of the Weasleys of her time, she thought with a pang—was an early version of Percy in more than just his looks.
"Good evening," he said in a pedantic tone. "I extend my thanks to Professor Slughorn for the invitation to address you. I am here tonight to talk to you about the current legislation proposed by my office to fight the war against Grindelwald, in keeping with Minister Spencer-Moon's plan to defeat the movement that threatens us all."
Hermione glanced at Tom, who was, naturally, seated next to her with his arm around her waist. He was gazing warily at Weasley, his mouth set in a profoundly skeptical expression. Hermione wondered what that was all about. Had Tom already begun to study the policies of various offices in the Ministry and disapproved of what Weasley was doing? It seemed probable, and Hermione found—somewhat to her dismay—that Tom's skepticism was prejudicing her against Weasley's message before he even began to speak.
Voldemort is prejudicing me against a Weasley. It almost made her laugh. But then, Tom was not Voldemort. Not the Voldemort she had known.
Still, she decided to listen to Septimus Weasley and give him the benefit of a doubt. The shock of learning about the revisionist history of Grindelwald had thoroughly jolted her as to the folly—and danger—of not forming her own opinions, but adopting someone else's out of deference to authority. And Tom was hardly even an expert authority, after all.
"My office is currently close to finalizing and proposing two laws to help fight the war," Weasley droned, not looking at any of the students to whom he was speaking. "We have also written them in a such a way that would permit the provisions to be used in times of peace as well, for the benefit of wizarding society. Many times we forget that the measures that we know, without question, are necessary in war are also good ideas in times of peace, to prevent war from again breaking out."
Tom's eyebrows narrowed. Hermione felt a jolt of alarm. She knew enough about Muggle history and Muggle society to be very, very concerned whenever wartime legislation was employed in peacetime….
"The first such legislation is the Authorization for the Seizure of Dark or Dangerous Artifacts. Ministry intelligence indicates that Grindelwald's movement heavily deploys Dark artifacts in its campaign of violence against our European allies. This law would permit the confiscation on sight of any Dark or dangerous object brought out of one's home or Gringotts vault, without any cumbersome and delaying bureaucratic paperwork."
"He means without a warrant," Tom hissed in Hermione's ear. She did not need elucidation.
"There are exceptions for Ministry-licensed and carefully regulated shops, out of deference to the expertise of shop proprietors in handling these objects."
"Out of deference to the gold the Ministry gets from Caractacus Burke," Tom whispered. She stifled a laugh.
"It is the goal of my office to implement a provision allowing for open-ended search and seizure operations on the homes of Dark wizards, as well," Weasley continued. "This provision would require warrants to enter a home, but not to seize any specific Dark or dangerous artifact. We currently have difficulties from Ministry allies who have concerns about this provision, but we hope to work it out."
"They don't want to lose Arcturus Black's financial support," Tom whispered. To Hermione's surprise, he raised his hand and called out, in his normal tone of voice, "Mr. Weasley, I have a question."
Weasley looked surprised that anyone had said anything. Apparently he was used to giving speeches with no response. Hermione was somehow not surprised by that. As she glanced around, she noticed that Slughorn was looking at Tom with interest—and anxiety.
"Under what circumstances would a warrant be issued to search someone's home?" he asked. "I presume, the commission of a crime in which Dark artifacts were thought to be involved, and the wizard in question is a suspect?"
"In fact, it is the judgment of my office that there is no good reason for any wizard to hoard dangerous artifacts," Weasley said primly. "There is the inherent risk of these objects being released into the wizarding, or worse, Muggle worlds, and causing havoc. The provision would ideally permit a Ministry raid when there is suspicion that such objects are being stockpiled at all."
Hermione had a sudden flashback to her past—or the future—or possible future, she amended. It was the summer after first year, when Ron's dad was heading up raids on wizarding homes for Dark objects, including Malfoy Manor. Open-ended raids, she thought. There was also the summer before sixth year, when Harry was suspicious of Draco Malfoy… but at that point, Lucius Malfoy was a convicted criminal. He had not been in their first summer. He had not been suspected in anything.
And they hadn't even worked in either case.
She also recalled the number of Dark artifacts in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Clearly there had never been a raid there. Arcturus Black's gold went far indeed.
Hermione felt troubled. She had profoundly disliked Lucius Malfoy, but her inner sense of justice was now troubled at the thought of Ministry bureaucrats breaking down doors, select doors at that, to confiscate anything they happened to decide was dangerous. She remembered how Hagrid, of all people, had been carted off to Azkaban in second year for the mere possibility of owning a Dark creature. She herself owned quite a number of objects that might qualify as dangerous or even Dark under the law, especially books.
Even worse, the law would accustom witches and wizards to the idea and set the stage for further restrictions to take place later. Hermione realized that she was watching history play out before her eyes.
There was murmuring among the boys of the Slug Club about the exchange between Weasley and Tom. Weasley looked affronted, and Slughorn tried to come to the rescue. "Some of my students are very interested in Ministry policy, Mr. Weasley," he said hurriedly. "Very promising, wouldn't you agree?"
"Quite," Weasley said stiffly. He forced a smile on his face. "There is always spirited debate occurring at the Ministry, particularly Magical Law Enforcement. But since we have limited time tonight, I'm afraid I must continue. I will now discuss the second proposed law my office has developed, the Propaganda Restriction Act."
Hermione suddenly sat upright. So did Tom.
"Much of Grindelwald's success can be attributed to the effective distribution of propaganda. His flyers have blanketed Central Europe. Wizarding Britain has fortunately been spared the propaganda effort of this Dark wizard, largely due to the intimidating presence of Professor Albus Dumbledore."
Tom's features contorted into a disdainful snarl for a second. Then he rearranged his face to the perfect studious listener's visage it had been a moment before.
"If Grindelwald should wish to wage a war of ideas in our country, there would be no laws to prevent the possession of his seditious literature. My office aims to change that, and as with the Authorization for the Seizure of Dark or Dangerous Artifacts, the Propaganda Restriction Act would not expire at the conclusion of the war and could be lawfully employed in peacetime."
Hermione's attention was riveted. She had a terrible feeling that she knew where this was going….
"The law would grant the Ministry of Magic authority to limit the publication and ownership of seditious or dangerous material," Weasley continued pedantically. "A law restricting the ownership specifically of wartime enemy propaganda is highly limited, and even worse, it requires a war to be in place before it can be enforced. As Grindelwald has taught us, wars break out because of failures to control such dangerous propaganda before the violence begins."
"Excuse me, Mr. Weasley," Hermione interrupted. "What, exactly, constitutes 'dangerous propaganda' in peacetime? Incitements to violence?"
Weasley peered at her over the rim of his glasses. "The legislation allows the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to determine that definition based on current circumstances."
Holy bloody hell, she thought. Suddenly the image flashed through her memories of the DMLE, under Yaxley, persecuting Muggle-borns, the violent suppression of the Quibbler, and Dolores Umbridge ordering the publication of anti-"Mudblood" pamphlets.
She recalled the Daily Prophet campaign against Harry throughout fourth and fifth year.
She remembered, more recently, that all accurate information about Gellert Grindelwald had been suppressed and apparently destroyed by her time. Dumbledore was going to defeat him. Weasley was Dumbledore's favorite protégé in the Ministry. Dumbledore had removed Dark Arts books from Hogwarts's library too, holding them in his own office even when he had sent three students on a mission to destroy an incredibly difficult-to-destroy sort of Dark object. He had no objection to choosing what information people were given.
She stood up beside her chair. "But Mr. Weasley, what would prevent the law from being used to enforce the political whim of whatever faction happened to control the Ministry at the time, while suppressing the views of the opposition?"
Tom gazed up at Hermione in undisguised admiration.
The rest of the Slug Club broke out in muttering. On the podium, Weasley sputtered.
"My dear young lady, the political factions of the British wizarding world have certainly been at each other's throats in the arena of politics, and have many policy disagreements, but it is appalling that you would think either of our factions would wish to do that to the other!"
I'm absolutely certain now that both would, she thought grimly, but she merely gazed back at him with an expressionless face. "Then what is an example of a seditious view that the Ministry would suppress in peacetime? I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I am simply trying to understand how this law would be used." She spread her hands openly and forced a smile on her face.
Weasley gazed back at her. "Well… Grindelwald's message, for example, is based on the view that wizards are under threat by Muggles. This is obviously ridiculous, but it is very damaging to wizarding morale and leaves the magical population open to his propaganda."
Tom stood up. "Obviously ridiculous? Mr. Weasley, there is an incredibly destructive Muggle war going on. Wizards in Europe are flocking to Grindelwald because their Ministries have not kept them safe from the Muggles' weapons."
Weasley gaped. "Mr.—"
"Riddle."
"Mr. Riddle, the Muggles do not have any weapons that can penetrate magical shields."
"Perhaps not," he said coolly, "but those magical shields have to be in place. The Muggles have bombs that can set cities on fire, and have deployed them in their war. Wizards living there would have to have specific anti-fire and anti-explosion shields up."
Hermione suddenly realized that Tom had lived in London, which was being attacked by German Muggle aircraft. He knew of what he was speaking. She also recalled from her Muggle history that cities had been firebombed in this war….
…And that in less than a year, Muggles would launch the nuclear age.
"It is their responsibility to protect their homes," Weasley said. "Their Ministries—"
"Have been telling them that the Muggle war cannot affect them," Tom interrupted. "But it has been, and that is why they are gravitating to Grindelwald."
Weasley was speechless. Slughorn put his hands over his eyes.
Roland Lestrange stood up. He sneered at Riddle. "That sounds like Grindelwald to me," he scoffed. "'Beware the Muggles and their dangerous weapons.' They're Muggles, Riddle. They're stupid and primitive. They have to be, since they don't have magic. They never even burned a witch in the old days."
"You don't know that," Tom muttered, glaring furiously at his disobedient Knight.
"Now, just a minute," Weasley put in. "Muggles are our neighbors, and it is our responsibility to protect them from magic, not abuse and exploit them."
"Of course it is, Mr. Weasley, but we also have to protect ourselves," Hermione said. "Just because Grindelwald is the most prominent person saying something doesn't mean it is automatically untrue. Tom is correct that the Muggles have very destructive weapons."
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
She smiled at him and turned back to Weasley. "But to return to the actual topic at hand, this is the very concern I have with the law as you described it, Mr. Weasley. I agree that Grindelwald is dangerous, but I don't think the way to combat him is to disregard the things he says that people know from their own experiences to be true. And I still think there is great potential for abuse for political purposes."
Slughorn stood up, smiling, though his forehead was creased and sweaty and his hands were trembling a little. "This has been an excellent forum, and I'm sure Mr. Weasley is duly impressed with the mental caliber of Hogwarts students and their interest in wizarding affairs," he said.
Weasley gave Slughorn a thin smile. "Of course, Professor Slughorn. It is always a… pleasure to see young people taking an interest in Ministry policy. However, I am afraid I must cut the talk short. I understand that these meetings also have a dinner…."
"Indeed they do, Septimus, indeed they do," Slughorn said. "You are most welcome to join us."
The dinner was much more subdued than the typical Slug Club dinner. Slughorn looked nervous and concerned about what had happened. Weasley was offended at being debated. Tom shot glares at Roland Lestrange throughout the meal, clearly very angry with being publicly challenged. Hermione did not particularly want to know what he intended to do to Lestrange afterward. She hoped she did not find out.
She was more surprised at herself. Then again, she remembered, she had really begun to stand up to wrongheaded authority figures in fifth year, with Dolores Umbridge and then the Minister himself. And for the past year of her life in her original time, she had been officially an outlaw and a rebel.
Besides, that Propaganda Restriction Act was a bad piece of legislation. Should it be passed, they would feel its chilling effects for the next fifty years. It would be abused by whichever political faction happened to run the Ministry at the time. The Authorization for the Seizure of Dark or Dangerous Artifacts was almost as bad in its own way. Of course it was necessary to prevent hostile items from falling into Muggle hands, but this type of law was far too sweeping.
And the Ministry was completely off about how to deal with Grindelwald. Patronizing Muggles the way Weasley started to, focusing on how much they needed to be protected, only enabled the blood-purity fanatics to believe their own bigoted views about how useless and—what had Lestrange said?—primitive Muggles were. She knew personally that they were neither. Their advancements posed a threat but also offered promise. And wizards were denying both. Well, everyone except a radical violent revolutionary.
Hermione realized that she was committed to helping Tom launch a political career. Tom seemed to be fully in agreement about the threat. In time, he might be persuaded to agree about the promise. Hermione hoped so.
When the meeting dismissed, Tom took Lestrange aside in the hallway and out of Hermione's earshot. She watched as he obviously threatened him, his face twisting in anger, his wand twitching in his hand. Lestrange shrank back, looking very relieved when Tom let him go.
He returned to Hermione and pasted a smile on his face. "All right, that's taken care of. You were magnificent tonight, by the way."
He did not appear to be offering false flattery. Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
"What you said is true, though," she said in a quiet tone. "I—well, it won't change anything for me to tell you this, since it's the Muggle world, but in less than a year, Muggles will be able to destroy entire cities with a single bomb, and it will actually poison the air and the environment for years and years afterward."
Tom looked horrified. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm serious."
"And these idiots—all of them—refuse to see it."
Hermione decided not to remind him that his own alternate future self was among those people.
"I've got to do something," he murmured. "The wizarding world—it's so important to me, I can't let it shrivel up and die, and it's going to, Hermione. The Muggles"—he looked disgusted at the admission he was making—"are going to outstrip us. We have to change."
She nodded. He was very close. It was distracting, though she could not have said from what it was distracting her.
"You're with me?"
She nodded again. She had a feeling that he was asking her a great deal more than whether she happened to agree with the statement he had just made. She did not even know exactly what she was agreeing to, but she was with him anyway.
"Good," he whispered.
He leaned forward. Hermione backed up involuntarily, touching the stone wall. It was cold, and the contrast between the cold stone and their warm bodies was… enticing.
He placed hands on either side of her face, millimeters away. His mouth curled into a smirk. "Are you trying to get away from me?" he said in a low growl.
She shook her head.
"Good," he said again in that silky tone of his. He stroked her cheek with one finger. She closed her eyes and shivered. "Because you won't. You're mine."
The tone was almost threatening, but she could not think too hard about that—or anything else, right at the moment. He closed the gap, all the gaps. He took her face in his hands, pressed himself against her down to their waists, and seized her lips aggressively with his.
If she had been able to think about it, she would not have been remotely surprised that he would take total control of a kiss immediately. It fit him to do so, very evidently. He forced her lips apart and began to plunder her mouth. One of his hands dropped from her cheek and trailed down her neck, her clavicle, down to her chest.
"Mine," he repeated in a murmur against her mouth.
Hermione reached out and threaded her fingers into his hair—his perfect hair, she thought. It would be mussed after this. The image brought a thrill that curled out from her lower pelvis. She thought briefly that she was kissing the Dark Lord, but instantly banished that idea. She wasn't. The "Dark Lord" was not a person, but a persona, and it did not exist now. This was just Tom. He was dark, but not too dark for her. Not anymore. Not considering what the last year had made of her.
He nipped at her lips with his teeth, provoking a moan from her. She felt him smirk against her lips at her reaction. He stroked her cheek and reached farther back with the hand that remained on her face, cupping her entire face and slipping his fingers partly into her hair. He ran a single finger along the back of her ear, stroking the thin and sensitive skin. She shuddered with pleasure. In response she tugged lightly at his hair and nipped at his lips in return, eliciting a grunt of surprise from him.
"You're bold to do that," he murmured. "Gryffindor." He reached down the low neckline of her dress—it was dark green, chosen to match his House tie—and slipped his fingertips underneath the fabric. He stroked gently for a second before quickly drawing back, as if in shock at what he had started to do, and brought it back to her cheek.
"Mine," he said again, finally breaking the kiss. He drew back just enough to look at her. His face was satisfied and even smug.
Hermione's heart was thudding. That… was intense. Neither Viktor nor Ron had kissed her like that. Viktor, she thought idly, probably would have been capable of it if she had not been just fifteen while he was legally of age. But at the moment she could not think too long of being kissed by anyone but Tom.
It was all right, she thought, that he was so possessive. That also fit him. And so help her, but in this time, she was completely alone otherwise, and if she did "belong" to him—well, she couldn't object too much.
His hair, Hermione noticed, was mussed.
End Note: There is an illustration of the end sequence of this chapter on my Tumblr: betagyre-penname DOT tumblr DOT com /post/143039912519/illustration-3