A/N: In retrospect, I discovered that something similar to what I write below about wands was also used by Silently Watches in their fic "Faery Heroes." In fact, when I reread that fic recently, I noticed more than one similarity between it and this one — no exact copying, but the influence seems clear if you look closely. All I can say is that I really like that story, but wasn't consciously trying to imitate any of it. I suspect that some of SW's perspectives and interpretations got embedded in my mind and now heavily influence how I read HP. I'd list FH as the recommended fic for this chapter, but frankly, the actual recommendation just fits too well. You'll see why.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Guy Fawkes Day" by MisterQ. What if Harry goes a little nuts and decides that the corruption and bigotry in magical society is so great that it all has to be brought down? Violently? And how would Hermione deal with it? Disturbing, but enjoyable.
Chapter 24 - Great Balls of Fire!
Tuesday, January 12, 1995, Morning.
An unfamiliar owl landed in front of Jasmine Potter during breakfast. Hermione, Neville, and Ginny all looked on with trepidation as Jasmine slowly detached the small piece of parchment it had tied to its leg. Hermione offered it some bacon while Jasmine unrolled the message. She looked at it in confusion for a long moment, then quickly rolled it back up and tucked it inside her robes.
"What is it?" Neville asked.
"Sorry, Neville," Jasmine said, "but it's one of those things I can't tell you. Maybe I'll be able to say something soon, but not right now."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up, recognizing that there were very few things that Jasmine wouldn't be able to share at all with Neville and Ginny. At Hermione's questioning look, Jasmine said, "We'll have to talk about it later. Maybe during lunch, if we can afford to cut it short?"
Hermione thought about that, then nodded her head. They'd have to be quick because they had a Potions lesson after lunch on Tuesdays and they couldn't afford to be even a second late for it.
As breakfast progressed, Ginny kept looking over at her twin older brothers and frowning, until finally Neville asked, "What's the matter, Ginny? You keep looking at Fred and George."
"I don't know," she responded. "I've learned that it pays to keep an eye on them, and I've noticed this morning that they're acting strangely. They keep shifting back and forth in their seats or standing up and pulling on their trousers." It was then that the two of them noticed Hermione and Jasmine had their hands over their mouths and appeared to be trying to hold in laughter.
"OK, you two, you've done something," Neville said. "Now spill — what was it?"
Hermione recovered first and started to explain, "You remember when Fred and George levitated that snow bank to win the snowball fight?" Ginny and Neville both nodded.
"Well," Jasmine continued, "even though we didn't make a 'no magic' rule, we still felt that was cheating and we've been working on a way to get them back. Hermione got the perfect spell on Sunday, and we used it today."
"Where'd you get it?" Ginny asked.
"We kind of accidentally created it ourselves, I guess," Jasmine answered.
"Creating spells is hard," Ginny said, "and dangerous, too."
"I'm not sure that we really created something new," Hermione hastened to say. "It's more that our... unusualness gave a new twist to an old spell."
"Hermione had the idea of shrinking something — and in a way that they couldn't reverse," Jasmine continued in a whisper. "So we practiced overpowered shrinking charms. Initially it was a disaster. Things shrunk so much and so quickly that they were ruined."
"So then I suggested applying the spell slowly," Hermione said, "hoping to shrink without damaging. We found that if we did it right, we could cause the target to keep shrinking gradually long after we stopped casting."
Shaking her head in confusion, Ginny said, "I still don't get the joke."
Both fourth-year witches were having trouble holding in their giggles again, but Hermione managed to finish in a rush, "When they were leaving the common room this morning, Jasmine cast a slow-acting shrinking charm on their underwear!"
Neville's and Ginny's eyes grew wide at that.
Jasmine nodded and added, "Their underwear should shrink gradually all day!" She then snorted and buried her face in Hermione's shoulder to hide her laughter. It was all Ginny and Neville could do to not do the same. All four of them kept casting sidelong glances at the twins, amused at the boys' growing discomfort.
Tuesday, January 12, 1995, Late Morning.
This week's Transfiguration lesson was on the switching spell, a topic they had started to cover early in first term, but now they would be expected to move on to more complex switches. Jasmine and Hermione were confident that they'd have no problems; even without the power boost, Hermione had become familiar with switching spells back in first year and seriously considered having Jasmine try using it to fight the dragon in the First Task.
Neville, though, expected to have problems. He never did master the switching spell the first time around, even going so far as to accidentally switch his own ears onto a cactus. He'd improved a bit under the two witches' tutelage, but his earlier lack of confidence was making an appearance again, and that didn't bode well for his spell work.
After receiving instructions from Professor McGonagall, they set down for their task: switching red and blue liquids between two differently shaped jars. Jasmine and Hermione incanted as quietly as possible so as not to risk overpowering their spells. At worst, they thought they might simply switch the jars along with the liquids, but they didn't want to see what could happen if the spell went beyond that.
Neville, as expected, wasn't having any success. He wasn't even able to get a little bit of the liquids to switch, a feat that would have been made clear by small changes in the colors in the jars. Knowing that it had helped during their tutoring sessions before, Hermione transfigured an old quill into a wand-sized stick and had Neville practice the wand movements using that while she worked on organizing her notes about the spell.
Once Jasmine was satisfied with Neville's progress, she told him to try doing it with his real wand. He closed his eyes, and his face tensed up as he concentrated as hard as he could. He then opened his eyes and quickly cast the spell. To his surprise, it worked perfectly the first time.
"Five points to Gryffindor for finally getting that spell right, Mr. Longbottom," came their professor's voice from behind them.
"I… I've never gotten this right so fast. Not even partially right, never mind perfect," Neville objected.
"Well, Neville, maybe you're just getting the hang of it," Jasmine said encouragingly.
"Oh, Neville, wait, that's my wand," Hermione said from the other side, then she returned his wand while taking back her own. "You must have picked it up by mistake while I was writing."
Neville looked scandalized and stammered out an apology. "I'm… I'm so sorry. Honest, it was just an accident. It won't happen again, I promise."
Hermione looked back at him quizzically. "It's OK, really, I don't mind. You didn't damage it or anything, so what's the big deal?"
"Wizards and witches aren't supposed to use each other's wands like that," explained Neville.
"Why?" Jasmine asked. "Hermione and I use each other's wands all the time."
"Yeah," Hermione added. "Sometimes we don't even realize we've accidentally switched wands until we're done with homework, practice, or whatever. I think Jasmine must have done half of her preparation work for the first task while using my wand."
Neville's eyes got big and round at hearing that, but before he could say anything they heard Professor McGonagall's voice come from behind them again, and much more quietly this time. "You two see me after class." With that, she walked away to inspect the progress of the other students.
"Are we in trouble or something?" Hermione asked, a bit of fear creeping into her voice.
Neville, who still looked a bit shocked, answered, "No, I wouldn't think so, but this is a really weird situation. Wands are very, very personal. It's a huge taboo to pick up another wizard's or witch's wand and use it without permission — and permission is almost never given. Using a person's wand is like… like..." Neville struggled to come up with an analogy, finally saying, "I guess it's like touching a person in a very intimate way. You just don't go around doing it."
Both witches looked a bit unsettled by that, then Neville went on, "Also, a wand gets attuned to a person's magic, making it unsuitable for anyone else; if a non-owner forces it too much, they can mess up a wand, making it harder for the owner to use it. So if I kept trying to force spells through your wand, Hermione, I might have messed it up for you."
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, now comprehending what the big fuss was about. "So why hasn't that happened with Jasmine and me?"
"I don't know," Neville replied, clearly confused.
"Let's not worry about that now," Jasmine said. "Professor McGonagall will explain it to us later."
"Right," Hermione said, remembering that there was school work to be done. "You try yours again, Neville, now that you have the right wand. I'll do the same, just to make sure it still works fine."
As expected, Hermione performed the switching spell flawlessly. The surprise was Neville, who did no better than the first time he'd tried it at the beginning of the lesson.
"Are you doing anything differently?" Jasmine asked him.
"No," Neville answered morosely. "I can't understand why Hermione's wand would work better than my dad's."
"Wait, your dad's?" Jasmine asked quickly. "You mean, you didn't get that wand for yourself at Ollivander's before starting Hogwarts?"
"No," Neville said. "My gran told me that if this wand was good enough for my father, then it should be good enough for me."
"Neville, you just got done telling us that wands shouldn't be used by other people!" Hermione said with some asperity.
"Oh, yeah," Neville said a bit sheepishly. "There are exceptions. Occasionally, married couples or auror partners who are really, really close can switch wands. It's also common to pass wands down through families. They are called 'legacy' wands or 'heritage' wands. Since their original owners no longer need them, they can be safely used by someone new."
"OK, that makes sense," conceded Hermione.
"But still," Jasmine objected, "Ollivander told me that the wand chooses the witch. Or wizard, in your case. If that wand hasn't 'chosen' you, then I don't see how it will work right for you. I tried dozens of wands that all failed to work right for me before I finally found this one."
"Maybe that wand just isn't ready to be passed on," suggested Hermione. "Or maybe you're more like your mother than your father? Or maybe enough of a mix of both that neither of their wands would be quite suited to you?"
"You should try to get a new wand, Neville." Jasmine said helpfully. "At the very least, you'll see if doing better is possible, which seems likely since even Hermione's wand worked better for you than your father's. You can't hurt anything by trying. And if you do find something more suited to you, you'll surely do better with wanded magic."
Neville sat there and considered for a minute before saying, "I don't know. It would feel like betraying my father or something. I'll have to think about it."
The two witches wanted to argue with him because they knew they were right, but they held their tongues. This was very personal, and something Neville would have to come to terms with on his own.
After everyone else had left the Transfiguration classroom, Minerva McGonagall sealed and silenced the door then turned to her two favorite but most troublesome witches. "Alright," she said, "tell me again about switching wands."
The girls looked nervously at each other, still not sure that they weren't about to get into trouble over something they didn't understand. Then Hermione began, "Well, I think we've always been able to use each other's wands. I know we did at least a couple of times as early as first year, though it wasn't regular or deliberate."
"Yeah," added Jasmine, "they were just a couple of cases of picking up the wrong wand from the table when doing homework."
"Exactly," said Hermione. "That continued in second and third years, though I suppose it probably happened a bit more. This year, though, it's happened a lot. As I mentioned, it's not uncommon for one of us to pick up the other's wand and get through an entire study or practice session without realizing it. That includes a lot of practices for the first task when Jasmine was working on stronger spells than we usually deal with in our classes."
"You were, too," Jasmine pointed out. "You always practiced the same spells as I did in order to help me when I had trouble." Hermione nodded in agreement at that.
Minerva leaned back against her desk, took off her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Looking up at them, she asked, "Let me get this straight: you two not only switch wands back and forth as if they were interchangeable, but you've regularly pumped large amounts of magic for relatively strong spells through each other's wands?"
Both witches nodded in unison, identical looks of innocence and concern on their faces.
"Are we in trouble?" Hermione asked nervously. "Did we do something wrong?"
"Aside from violating common expectations and assumptions about magic… again… no, I dare say not."
"Is what we've done really that unusual?" Jasmine asked.
"Yes," Minerva said, giving both of them a pointed look, "except perhaps for the two of you, I suspect."
"And is this one of those things you can't actually explain to us?" Hermione asked in sudden realization.
"Indeed." Sighing, she continued, "In fact, I don't want you to tell anyone about this. Make sure Mr. Longbottom knows to keep it quiet as well, though I expect he already knows that anyway."
"Oh, speaking of Neville," Hermione said, "he did much better using my wand than his own. According to him, his wand was originally his father's. He never went to Ollivander's to get fitted for his own wand. His success with my wand makes me think that he's capable of doing the work he has trouble with, but maybe it's his wand that's fighting him."
"I had trouble with lots of wands I tried before this one finally worked for me," Jasmine added, lifting her holly and phoenix feather wand.
Minerva's lips thinned in irritation. "Let me guess: Augusta thinks that Frank's wand should work just fine for young Mr. Longbottom?" When she saw their blank expressions, she amended, "Augusta is his grandmother, and Frank is his father."
"Oh, well, then, yes," Jasmine answered. "That's almost exactly what he said, in fact."
"Why am I not surprised?" Minerva muttered. "Put that out of your minds for now, I'll take care of Mr. Longbottom and his wand troubles."
"OK, if you're sure," Jasmine replied. "He said he'd think about getting a new one."
"Yes, well, I'll help him think a bit faster," Minerva said with a determined glint in her eye. "And I'll be sure to let Augusta know what I think about her sending her grandson to Hogwarts with an unmatched wand. And for more than three years, too!"
The two younger witches nodded, not wanting to get in the middle of either of those conversations.
"Now off with you both," Minerva concluded the meeting, "You don't want to be late for Potions."
As they scampered off, Minerva began mentally composing a very sternly worded letter for her old friend Augusta. I wonder if I should send it as a howler...
Tuesday, January 12, 1995, Afternoon.
All the other goblins moved aside in the rough-hewn rock corridors of the hidden goblin capitol city as the Gatekeeper strode purposefully towards the main chambers of the Bet Bel, or goblin High Council. The Gatekeeper was the goblin responsible for managing the schedules and appointments for everyone on the Bet Bel, including the goblin leader, Hellraiser II. They were, almost literally, the gatekeeper for the entire goblin leadership.
It was for this reason that being Gatekeeper wasn't just a job or even a calling, it was an identity. Once chosen for that position, Gatekeeper became that goblin's name rather than merely their title. Forever after, they would always be known simply as the Gatekeeper and nothing else, not even by family members.
Being Gatekeeper was not an easy task, not by any stretch of the imagination, because they had the responsibility for determining what issues would be brought before individual members of the Bet Bel or the Bet Bel as a whole. Over the centuries, this task slowly transformed into also including more and more decision-making authority.
At first, denying a request for input from the Bet Bel effectively meant ratifying whatever the petitioner was already doing. When it became clear that there were cases where a certain course of action was obvious, yet the matter too trivial to bring before the Bet Bel, Gatekeepers were authorized to explicitly approve or reject whatever course of action was being proposed. Choosing wrong meant wasting valuable time or allowing an important matter to go without proper handling. It was for this reason that goblins were chosen for this position based on their ability to thrive under pressure.
Today was much like any other day as the Gatekeeper sorted through dozens upon dozens of requests for the Bet Bel's time. Every goblin and their sibling seemed to think that their personal concerns were of vital importance to the entire goblin nation, and it was the responsibility of the Gatekeeper to decide if they were right or not.
The Rome bank branch wanted to expand services to handle all of the magical refugees who were fleeing the war in the Balkans. Request granted, wrote the Gatekeeper. Don't need to bother the Bet Bel with this, though I'll have to let them know that the refugee situation hasn't abated and that we may need to close or reinforce the Balkan branches. The Jewelers' Guild sent in a report that a new deposit of rubies had been located, but that they'd have to move fast to erect wards before the muggle government of Myanmar also got that information. Request granted, but the Bet Bel will have to be notified in case they want to open negotiations with the muggles. The Mexico City branch sent in a warning about the Mexican muggle economy and requested the authority to expand lending to magicals. That's something the Bet Bel will have to take up in their next session.
It was an envelope from the London branch which ultimately overturned the Gatekeeper's routine day. It wasn't the use of the label "Urgent" that created a stir — almost everyone did that. It wasn't even the use of special, high-level security and privacy seals that caught the Gatekeeper's attention; though more rare, they were still used quite often. No, it was the contents of the envelope that forced the Gatekeeper to clear the day's schedule in order to launch an investigation.
At the end of the day, though, nothing could be decided on. The report from Senior Branch Supervisor Earchewer was interesting, but there simply weren't enough hard facts to warrant acting on. There certainly wasn't enough to justify notifying the Bet Bel or scheduling any meetings on the issue. At the same time, though, it would probably be a serious mistake to do nothing. It was clear that there was probably quite a bit more going on, which meant that at the very least the goblin nation needed to stay informed.
Unfortunately, the Gatekeeper was too high in the ranks to "pass the galleon up" as Earchewer had done. However, the Gatekeeper was high enough to "pass the galleon down" and give orders to just about anyone else in order to make things happen. Naturally, those orders would go directly to Earchewer. If he valued his position and the gold in his personal vault, he would use whatever local resources he deemed necessary to monitor the situation. He was further instructed to report back if the situation with the two witches changed at all.
It had taken an entire day to deal with that, and in the end nothing had really been accomplished — just the issuing of orders to report back when more was known. This put the Gatekeeper in a foul mood, and everyone could see it in the goblin's face, causing them to move even further out of the way as the Gatekeeper walked home through the corridors of the subterranean goblin capital city.
Maybe tomorrow will be more productive, the Gatekeeper thought with annoyance.
Tuesday, January 12, 1995, Evening.
Because of the unexpected meeting with their Transfiguration professor earlier in the day, it wasn't until after dinner that Jasmine and Hermione had time to find a private place to read the note which Jasmine had received that morning. Instead of going to their training classroom, they decided to use the Room of Requirement. Neville had been working with it and discovered that if the request was worded correctly, a person could create a room that would keep out certain types of people or even all other people — a real boon for those seeking security and privacy.
Once they were inside, Jasmine pulled out the small piece of parchment and rolled it open for Hermione to finally see. On it was written just one word: Map. Next to it was a small mark that looked like a paw print.
"Map?" Hermione asked. "What does that mean?"
"I've been thinking about it off-and-on all day," Jasmine answered. "As soon as I saw the paw print, I was certain this came from Sirius, which means that "Map" can only refer to one thing..."
"The password for the Marauder's Map!" Hermione finished.
"Exactly," replied Jasmine, who then pulled out her wand, touched it to the parchment, and recited, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Instantly, the letters on the parchment pulled apart, expanded, and reformed to create a new message: Hogsmeade. January 16. 10AM.
"Well," Hermione said, "I guess this means we'll be meeting Sirius in Hogsmeade."
"Yeah, but he doesn't say where." noted Jasmine with a frown. "I suppose he plans on finding us. We'll just have to be sure we're standing someplace public at 10AM.
"Right," Hermione agreed. "You'd better destroy that, just in case."
Jasmine dropped the note to the stone floor, and before Hermione could stop her, Jasmine incanted firmly, "Incendio!"
The resulting fireball certainly destroyed the note. It also created a scorch mark nearly a meter in diameter where the note used to be. Because the floor was so close and the fireball was so large, a backblast was produced which hit the two witches squarely in the front. They received scorched robes, blackened faces, and singed-off eyebrows. The horrible smell of burnt hair hung all around them as they coughed up soot from their lungs.
"Oops," Jasmine said in a small voice.
"Jasmine Dorea Potter! *Cough! Cough!* What the bloody hell were you thinking?!" came Hermione's outraged response.
"Language!" Jasmine said reflexively. Her eyes bugged out when she realized how badly she had just compounded her error, judging by the look on her girlfriend's face.
She bolted for the door.
Hermione took off in pursuit, stinging hexes flowing from her wand like water from a firehose. Jasmine at least had the presence of mind to lead the chase to the hospital wing, where she knew Madam Pomfrey would save her skin. Now if only something could be done for her eyebrows...
Fred and George were forced to use their potions knives to cut their underwear off because by the end of the day they had shrunk so much that they couldn't be removed any other way. After comparing the cut garments with clean underwear in their trunks, they confirmed that the shrinking was real and not simply their imagination. A couple of detection spells further confirmed that their underwear had been spelled by someone, though they couldn't determine who or how.
"Well, brother of mine," one twin began, "it seems that someone got us good."
"Indeed," the second twin replied. "and with a very, very clever prank."
"Cunning, even," the first twin said. "Could it have been a Slytherin?"
"Possible," the second answered, "but if I remember correctly this started before we got to breakfast, so probably not Slytherin."
The first twin nodded. "Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, then."
"A Ravenclaw would be a good candidate for an obscure spell," the second twin said, "but a Gryffindor is more likely to have the stones to prank us."
"We'll just have to keep our eyes open," the first twin said, "so we can congratulate them on such clever spellwork."
"And then prank them back 'til they bleed!" the twins said in unison.
Wednesday, January 13, 1995, Morning.
Hermione acted rather coolly towards Jasmine the next day, possibly as a consequence of the fact that her eyebrows had yet to grow back in properly. Jasmine had tried apologizing repeatedly but only received glares for her efforts. At least no one has been dumb enough to say anything to her about her eyebrows, Jasmine thought ruefully. If they did, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who would be punished.
"This week," Professor Flitwick announced, "We'll be studying and practicing the severing charm. The incantation is Diffindo and you can find diagrams of the wand movements in your texts." After waiting for all the students to find the right pages in their books, he continued, "It's important that you all take great care when practicing this charm. Although typically only used to cut non-living items, like cloth or string, it can be used to hurt a person if enough power is put behind it."
Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other uneasily, their earlier argument forgotten in light of their current situation.
"I'll be distributing pieces of cloth for you to put on your desk as targets," their Charms professor announced. "Make sure that you have your desks clear of all other material — you wouldn't want to accidentally cut up your books or homework, would you? You must also keep your wands pointed down at your desks — I don't want to see any severing charms flying around the room! If I do, those responsible will be docked points and receive detentions."
Neville raised his hand and asked, "Professor, won't we end up damaging the desks?"
"Excellent question, Mr. Longbottom," came the reply. "If you were fully mature witches and wizards, that might be a legitimate concern. Because you're all still young, though, I don't think we have much to be worried about. Desks in Hogwarts are specially charmed to resist spell damage, and you'd need to be a strong spellcaster to scratch one of them with a Diffindo."
Despite their professor's assurances, Hermione and Jasmine were no less cautious. When casting Diffindo at their pieces of cloth, they incanted as quietly as possible, just as they did with the rest of their spellcasting, but the results were still quite dramatic. Their cloths were split in two rather violently, and they were certain that they could see slight marks on their table once they looked more closely. It wasn't enough to be obvious to anyone not specifically looking for it, but it concerned them nonetheless.
Neville was still having trouble, a situation which didn't surprise either witch. The white spell that came out of his wand was far weaker than average in the class and it barely rent the cloth he was aiming at. Professor Flitwick tried to help, but in the end he instructed him to get more practice outside of class. Hermione and Jasmine were given five points each for doing such a good job so quickly, then he handed them other objects to try the spell on.
By the end of the class, the two Gryffindor witches were easily cutting apart everything that Professor Flitwick had given them. In a couple of cases they had to deliberately speak more firmly, which they felt increased the power they were using, but that was all it took for them to quickly cut up books, pieces of wood, leather, stone, and even a piece of metal.
What they didn't realize was that Flitwick had started giving them materials which they shouldn't have been able to cut apart with a Diffindo spell. In fact, a mature witch or wizard shouldn't have been able to do much more than mark some of it. The leather, for example, was old dragonhide — so old and worn that it had lost much of its magical resistance, granted, but it was still dragonhide. The fact that these two fourth-year witches were cutting everything up with barely any difficulty both amazed and bothered him.
Going over to their table after all the students had left, he closely examined the surface, and the new marks there stood out like beacons to him. They weren't deep, but Flitwick had been teaching in this room for years, and he knew each piece of furniture intimately. There was no question but that those two witches had marked this magically-resistant tabletop — and the very first time they cast Diffindo, to boot.
I'm going to have to sit down and talk to Minerva to find out what's going on with those two, Filius Flitwick thought to himself with a frown. There are several things that simply do not add up.
Thursday, January 14, 1995, Late Morning.
At the end of Transfiguration, Hermione and Jasmine stayed back and gave their professor a questioning look. After she sealed and silence the door, Hermione spoke up. "Professor, would you be able to monitor our spellcasting this Saturday afternoon? Jasmine really needs to get in some practical work before the second task, and we'd both like a chance to practice working on the power of our spells."
Professor McGonagall looked them over for a moment before responding, "And how are you two doing with your spells in class? I've noticed that there haven't been any problems here lately."
"We've been trying to whisper our incantations as much as possible," Jasmine answered. "Hermione read about how we'll have to cast silently later on and that silent casting can reduce a spell's power. So we tried it, and though we haven't been able to do any spells silently, whispering seems to weaken them considerably.."
"Yes," Hermione added, "our spells still seem to be stronger than they should for fourth year work, but I don't think that it's enough to draw attention."
Professor McGonagall nodded, pleased that they'd been able to find a way to not be too obvious about what was happening. "That's a good idea, and if anyone notices that you're whispering, you have a good excuse, too. Very well, I can free up part of my Saturday to observe and advise. What time were you thinking?"
"Well," Jasmine said, "we wanted to have the morning for Hogsmeade, so we thought that the afternoon would be enough, at least for this initial session. Then we'll see what I need to work on." She didn't want to tell her professor about meeting Sirius because she didn't know if she was under any oaths to report the presence of a criminal. It was one thing to know that they might talk to him at some point in the future, but another to know that he'd be in town on a specific day.
"That will be fine," Professor McGonagall answered. "Why don't you come by here after lunch and take me to your training room?"
"Thanks!" they both said cheerily and ran out the door, almost knocking over Professor Flitwick, who was just trying to come in.
"Hello, Filius," Minerva said, watching with curiosity as her colleague proceeded to silence the door. "What seems to be the problem? I'm guessing this isn't a social call."
"Indeed it's not, Minerva," the part-goblin answered. "In fact, it concerns those two witches who just ran out of this room. I've been observing them more closely over the past couple of weeks, and what I've seen has been quite incredible. Disturbing, too, to be perfectly honest, and I wanted to come talk to you about it because I know they are two of your favorites. I figured you'd either already know what's going on or, if not, would really want to hear about it from me."
Minerva closed her eyes and slumped a little in her seat. She really didn't need this right now — Hermione and Jasmine hadn't decided on whether they wanted to trust him with some of their secrets or not, yet now he'd come to her already apparently having figured some of them out on his own.
Noting her reaction, Filius added, "I guess you do know more about what's going on. Should we have this conversation here, or in your private quarters?"
Looking back to her long-time friend and colleague, she replied, "Let's go to my quarters. We can have lunch brought in. Also, it's where I keep my Scotch."
Filius raised his eyebrows at that, not having expected this to be one of those conversations. Maybe those two young witches are a lot more interesting than I realized, he mused to himself as he made to follow her out of the classroom.
"Don't get your hopes up too much, though," she said, noting his own reaction. "Most of what I know is under an oath. I can only tell you a few things, then you'll need to decide whether you might want to be bound by the same oath in order to learn more."
When he heard that, Filius almost tripped. Oaths were not to be trifled with, and if Minerva were under an oath, then it had to be a very serious matter indeed.
Friday, January 15, 1995, Night.
When Hermione crawled into Jasmine's bed that night, it wasn't a surprise like last time. Various incidents (like Jasmine's overpowered Incendio) had prevented them from getting started on Pureheart's book when they had originally intended, but Jasmine couldn't put it off anymore, much as she loathed having to pile on more work.
"OK," announced Hermione, "Some of the material in here is easier and some is harder. Some is well above my understanding, in fact, but since I've already read a bunch, maybe that will make it easier for you because I can direct you to the best places to start. If you tried reading this on your own, you might struggle through sections that you shouldn't bother with yet and end up being frustrated."
"Shouldn't I just start at the beginning?" asked Jasmine, feeling dumb for asking a question that sounded like it should have an obvious answer.
Hermione hesitated, and Jasmine might have noticed a slight blush on her face if the light had been better. "No, not really — it's not organized like that. A lot of sections are interchangeable, in that you don't need to have read one in order to understand the others. However, some are easier to get through and understand in general. That's where I'm pointing you first."
Opening the book, Hermione had Jasmine start with the general history section. That's the least explicit while still being interesting, Hermione had decided. Jasmine's always seemed to be even more reticent and shy than I am when the subject of sex comes up. I never gave it much thought, probably because I was too wrapped up in my own embarrassment, but it was obvious once I noticed. I don't know why and I don't know how she'll react to the more explicit parts of this book, so I need to start her off as gently and gradually as possible.
In Little Hangleton, Tom Riddle was not experiencing extreme pain through the little homunculus that his soul was inhabiting. He was, however, experiencing a great deal of discomfort. He was confident that this was an improvement, though he didn't know why it would be happening and therefore didn't trust it. If he had performed some sort of spell or ritual designed to end the pain, he'd have taken credit and celebrated by torturing Wormtail a bit; but as it was he was still in the dark about what was going on.
"Wormtail!" he called out, hoping that his incompetent servant was a bit more mobile today.
"Ye-yes, my Lord?" the dumpy wizard said as he limped into the room.
"Go milk Nagini. We want Our potion early tonight," he commanded. "We are starting to feel uncomfortable and We want to see if the potion can be used to prevent Our condition from getting any worse."
"Yes, my Lord," came the meek response.
"And be quick about it, lest we lose Our patience with you and punish you again," he screamed. Perhaps that will get him moving quicker, he thought.
While waiting for his potion, he returned to considering his plans and whether any of them needed to be changed. We arranged things so that the timing would be perfect at the end of the third task, he thought as he frowned, and snatching the blasted girl early would ruin all of that. On the other hand, none of that will matter if this body doesn't last until the end of the third task. Either way, it won't be long before all will bow before Us and acknowledge the magical might of Lord Voldemort!
It never occurred to him that either his lack of a complete soul or his constant pain and discomfort might be interfering with his ability to plan or think rationally and coherently.