Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Harry Potter's Life Lessons" by DisobedienceWriter. The Dursleys' abuse of Harry doesn't make him meek and pliable, it makes him sneaky and suspicious — exactly what Dumbledore doesn't want.
Chapter 44 - Bad Reputation
Wednesday, March 3, 1995, Very Early Morning.
Lucius Malfoy sneered in disgust when he and Pettigrew first approached the dilapidated manor house the Dark Lord was hiding in, but he had schooled his face into an expressionless mask by the time they arrived at the front door. No matter how awful the place seemed, it would be dangerous if the Dark Lord thought Malfoy was looking down on him. His master was too prideful to bear such an insult in silence.
I just hope I don't have a sneezing fit from all of this dust, he thought a bit fearfully as they walked through the parlor. The last Death Eater to have a sneezing fit in front of the Dark Lord had his lungs removed through his nose. That might be why there are never any cats around him or his followers.
It took all of Lucius' training and self-control to hold on to his mask of indifference once they entered the Dark Lord's presence. Malfoy was certain that Pettigrew hadn't warned him about their master's state specifically so he could enjoy watching when the blonde Death Eater saw the ugly little baby-thing for the first time. Malfoy was certain that if he had expressed anything close to his true feelings, he'd be put under the cruciatus for days at the very least — something that Pettigrew's limping and occasional drooling suggested had already been happening here.
Despite his revulsion at the sight of the thing in the bassinet, hearing it speak drove out any doubts he might have had about its true identity.
"Wormtail!" it called out. "It's about time you returned! If We didn't have important business to conduct with Lucius here, you'd feel Our wrath for your tardiness. Now go milk Nagini and leave us in peace until We call for you!"
Once they were alone, the baby-thing looked hard at Malfoy and said, "It's been a long time, Lucius, but I see that you are looking awfully well." The words sounded like a casual compliment, but Malfoy had been in the service of the Dark Lord long enough to hear the menace and underlying threat. The message was clear: Lord Voldemort was not happy at how radically different their fortunes had been over the past decade and a half.
"I have done my utmost to ensure that I could be prepared for Your return, my Lord," Malfoy said as obsequiously as he possibly could while bowing down low. "I have increased both the gold in my vaults and my influence in the Ministry. It all stands ready and at Your disposal."
"Good, good," the baby thing said with a chuckle. "You have done well, then. We, unfortunately, are not doing so well." Malfoy froze, fearing that he hadn't been humble enough. "We will have use of what you offer Us, but not at the moment. First, We need to get ourselves into a more stable and proper body. This one was only ever supposed to be temporary, but it appears to be having problems sooner than expected. We are experiencing excruciating pain on a regular basis."
"What can I do, my Lord?" Malfoy asked, still bowing low.
"We have determined that moving Our plans forward is Our best course of action. The original plan was to kidnap Jasmine Potter during the third and last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Now We must change that so she can be kidnapped and brought here for a re-embodiment ritual — and as soon as possible."
Malfoy thought for a moment, then said, "I will need to see the details about this ritual in order to have reliable alternatives to offer You, my Lord, but the seventeenth of this month is the night of the full moon, and that is often an auspicious time for rituals of all sorts, as well as beginning magical projects."
"Yes!" the baby-thing squeaked, forcing Malfoy to hold in a snort of derision. "That would be a good time. Wormtail can bring you the relevant books later. First, let Us tell you what We have done thus far." And so the Dark Lord filled Malfoy in on everything that had been done to prepare Jasmine Potter to become a sacrifice at the resurrection of Lord Voldemort.
Because Potter had been such a thorn in the side of both Malfoy and his son, he was greatly looking forward to the event. He just hoped that his master would grant him the privilege of exacting some... personal retribution against the much-despised Girl Who Lived.
Wednesday, March 3, 1995, Afternoon.
Draco Malfoy couldn't believe his luck. Just this morning his head of house had practically given him permission to trash the reputation of that mudblood Granger. Snape's vaguely worded instructions fit in perfectly with Malfoy's desire to attack Potter using Rita Skeeter. Malfoy had no idea that his professor had been exacting in his choice of words so as to ensure plausible deniability for himself; Snape had no idea that Malfoy didn't realize this and consequently didn't understand his task as clearly as he should have.
Of course, Professor Snape probably assumed that Malfoy was simply going to spread some unflattering rumors around school, but he decided to surprise his professor by going above and beyond: he was going to spread those rumors across all of wizarding Britain! And maybe even farther!
He'd had trouble deciding what sort of story to feed to Skeeter, and it had already been three days since she'd talked to him. That might work to my advantage, though, he considered. She's probably even more desperate now than she was before, which will make her eager to take whatever I give her.
"Mr. Malfoy?" came a voice from behind him.
"Gah!" he screamed in a shrill, high-pitched voice as he jumped in the air. When he turned around, he saw Rita Skeeter standing there, acid-green quill in hand. "How'd you get behind me like that?" he demanded.
"Trade secret," she answered with a nasty grin. "Your owl this morning did say to meet you in this spot and at this time. So what do you have for me?"
Once Malfoy's heart stopped racing, he said, "I have a story for you about the mudbl... er, muggleborn student that Jasmine Potter spends so much time with. It turns out that they have secrets — secrets involving their relationship.
"A scandal?" Skeeter asked excitedly. "How delicious!" Malfoy didn't miss how Skeeter's eyes lit up at his words. He had known that a simple story about backstabbing wouldn't work; he had known that he needed something more salacious to attract the attention of this reporter. And he had been right.
"Do you have any evidence?" Skeeter asked
"No," Malfoy said, "It's not like I could get photos or anything…."
"Pity," Skeeter interrupted. "Those I'd pay good money for."
Malfoy sniffed, "I have no need of money, my family is rich. But regardless, I have arranged for other students to come here every fifteen minutes so they can talk to you too. It's not just me who knows about this." He wasn't going to tell her that these "other students" were all allies of his family to whom he'd fed this story already, thus ensuring that they'd all say the same thing.
"Oh!" Skeeter said, now sounding a lot more intrigued. "Well, that's good to hear. I always like to get a variety of quotes from lots of different people. It really spices a story up and adds a nice human factor." Skeeter's Quik Quotes Quill started writing in her pad. "So, why don't you get started and tell me all about this inappropriate relationship that the Girl Who Lived is having with... who did you say it was, again?"
Malfoy grinned evilly as he began his tale.
Sirius Black really, really wanted a drink, but that would defeat the point of getting counseling. It also wouldn't be possible, since the house elf had dumped all the alcohol on the premises, on the orders of his mother's portrait. It was an infuriating situation to be in. Still, it was an improvement over the direction he had been headed in. He also had to admit that he was surprised at how well his conversations with Elladora Black were going.
His mother… er, the portrait of his mother... had told him that there were two portraits in the house of Black who had been healers and who could help, even if that meant going to their other frames in St. Mungo's and getting advice from mind healers there. However, he really seemed to hit it off with the portrait of Elladora Black and decided to work with her exclusively.
Sirius had grown up hearing stories about his great-great-great-aunt Elladora, most of which were only repeated in whispers and when kids weren't supposed to be listening. He never learned what she did to merit such a scandalous reputation within the family, and her portrait wouldn't talk about it, but he always figured that whatever it was, it must have meant she had to have been one of his very few good relatives. Whatever it was also either wasn't generally known or wasn't considered scandalous outside the family, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to become a respected mind healer in her day.
So far he was really enjoying his time with her, even if she refused to interact with him on anything but a professional basis. Somehow, her healer code of ethics had been transferred into her portrait.
Sirius was beginning to think that there must be something odd about Black family magic and how it interacted with magical portraits, because that made two portraits in the house that were acting a bit odd compared to what he was accustomed to. Though to be fair, the portrait of Elladora was mostly "odd" in that she was unlike other members of the Black family — personable, friendly, and even caring. The portrait of his mother was odd in many more ways, starting with her more tolerant attitudes and continuing to specifics of behavior.
Fortunately, "odd" in this case mostly meant "good," and it was working to his benefit. Still, it was something that bore observation in case the situation changed for the worse.
"Sirius!" his moth... er, his mother's portrait called out to him. Damn, he thought. Is it a sign that I really am going crazy that I keep thinking of that portrait as if it were actually her? That's what seems to have driven Kreacher 'round the bend, and look at him! If that's what's happening to me, maybe I shouldn't stay here...
"Sirius!" she called again a bit more impatiently, and he set that thought aside for another time.
"Yes?" he replied when he was in front of her.
"Have you heard back about getting new secondary frames for the portraits here?" she asked.
"No, sorry," he answered.
"That's a pity," she said. "We really could use them in the meeting room that Kreacher is preparing. We elder Blacks need to be able to talk more often."
"Oh, believe me, I know," Sirius said. When Kreacher wasn't able to take care of it, he was drafted into hauling portraits around the house so they could talk more easily. It was incredibly annoying. "I'll write again, just to encourage them to hurry up."
"Thank you," the portrait of Walburga Black said in a voice that almost sounded genuinely grateful to Sirius. "How is your counseling going? Are you feeling any better?"
Sirius hesitated a little before answering, "Yes, actually, I am. It's a bit of a surprise that talking about my problems at all would help, never mind talking about them to a portrait, but it really seems to be doing me good. I thought that dredging up all of my problems and past issues would only make them worse. I've preferred to forget about whatever I could. Apparently, though, that's actually the wrong way to do things." Sirius didn't mention that his mother was one of his biggest problems from his past that he had preferred to forget about, and of course was something Elladora insisted on discussing.
"I'm not surprised, frankly," the portrait responded. "Elladora always did have a reputation of being easy to talk to. She was often a favorite of anyone who married into the family because she was so warm and friendly. Well, relative to the rest of the family she was, at least. She was, for example, rather close to Dorea's mother, Violette, who was a Bulstrode before she married into the Black family." The portrait stopped and looked to be lost in thought for a moment before adding, "In fact, Dorea once mentioned that her mother had told her that Elladora was the reason Dorea got her name, though she didn't know the exact details."
"I'll certainly agree that she's unusually warm and friendly for a Black," Sirius said. "Or at least her portrait is, and if it's anything like she was in life, I'm sorry I never got to know her."
Walburga's image nodded and said, "You aren't the first to say that. Now, back to what I called you down here for. A message was sent through the other portraits from Phineas. Apparently, the headmaster is conspiring against a muggleborn friend of Jasmine Dorea."
"What?!" exclaimed Sirius. There was only one muggleborn friend that he was aware of, and if anyone was conspiring against her, there'd be hell to pay. And then, when Jasmine was done with them, Sirius would add in his two knuts as well.
"Yes. I don't know the details, but it's a plan to drive some sort of wedge between the two of them," Walburga explained. "You'll need to ask Phineas for the details, though I got the impression that he didn't know very much."
"I'll do that, thank you," Sirius growled. "I hope you're wrong, though, because I have a feeling that Jasmine is very, very protective of that friend of hers. It's Hermione, by the way, the one who prepared all of that information about the headmaster."
"Oh?" Walburga replied. "She seems to have a good, organized mind. She's the one you described as being incredibly intelligent, correct?"
Sirius nodded. "She's often the brains behind what she and Jasmine get up to. She came up with the plan that saw me rescued from being kissed by a dementor. She figured out that a basilisk was petrifying students. She's the smartest witch I've ever known."
"Hm, quite surprising, given her inferior muggle background," Walburga commented. "Perhaps she's actually from a lost squib line? That would explain how she's doing so well. It would be a shame if she were separated from Jasmine Dorea. And you say that they are very close? Protective of each other?"
Sirius nodded again. "They are inseparable." He watched as the portrait of his mother got a very thoughtful look on her face. "What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," the portrait responded, "Just some old memories that I'd forgotten about. I'm curious to see them interact. I'd also be interested to learn more about this mud... er, muggleborn friend. Maybe we can find out which noble family she actually descends from. Have you talked to Elladora about them?"
"No," Sirius said, not sure he understood the direction this was going. "They haven't come up."
"You should do so," she said. "It will help if Elladora understands more about the people in your life." Sirius nodded in understanding, even though he didn't really feel like he understood anything at all. "Before you go talk to Phineas, though, have you gathered all the information you can on blood tracking spells?"
"Yes," he answered. "It's not as much as I'd like, but it should be more than enough for Hermione to work with."
"Good," Walburga said. "When you get done talking to Phineas, be sure to arrange a meeting as soon as you can with your goddaughter. Then we need to talk about Dumbledore and the list of questionable actions that she gave you. I may have some insights to offer."
Wednesday, March 3, 1995, Evening.
It was rare for Hogwarts students to get mail at any time other than breakfast, so when Draco Malfoy saw an owl flying towards him at dinner, he was surprised and concerned. Once he realized that he didn't recognize the owl, he started to wonder if it was Rita Skeeter trying to contact him for some reason. Upon removing the parchment from the owl's leg, he decided that he had become the object of far too much attention to warrant reading it there, so he casually finished his meal and strolled out of the Great Hall and towards the Slytherin dorms in the dungeon.
It wasn't until he was safely behind the spelled curtains of his bed that he opened the letter, surprised to find that it was from his father. Why didn't he use one of our family owls? he wondered. There was no doubt that it was from his father, though, because he used the correct words to signal that the letter was genuine, that he was not under duress, and moreover that the contents of the letter were of the utmost importance — something Draco had never seen before.
The letter not only failed to answer Draco's question about why a strange owl was used, but also raised even more questions for the young Malfoy heir. According to his father, it was imperative that Draco gather any and all information possible about the habits, behaviors, and movements of Jasmine Potter. Why does he care so much about her and what her daily life is like? he wondered. What is he planning? And why?
Draco had been trained well enough not to let those questions slow his response. The language used made it clear that the tasks he was being given were very important, and he had no intention of disappointing his father. Besides, he concluded, whatever he's planning can't possibly be good for that half-blooded bint, and that's good news for me.
Deciding that if this information really was as important as the letter indicated, then it would be better to act sooner rather than later, he retrieved writing materials from his desk and immediately began to put everything he knew to parchment. This will show Father how useful my observations already are, he thought. I'll send this out first thing in the morning with a note that I'll update with more details every couple of days.
Thursday, March 4, 1995, Morning.
"Greetings, Lucius," the tiny homunculus said in the sibilant voice that had long characterized the Dark Lord. "Wormtail informed Us that you received an owl this morning. What is the news?" Lucius frowned inwardly, annoyed at himself for not having made sure that he had been unobserved when receiving the message and promising himself once again to ensure that Pettigrew met with an unfortunate accident at the earliest opportunity.
"It was a response from my son, my Lord," Lucius said as he bowed low in front of the bassinet.
"Already?" the Dark Lord asked, a touch of surprise in his question.
"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied. "Although I did not expect to hear from him so soon, he is endeavoring to fulfill our needs as quickly as possible. In his letter he included everything that he already knew about the Potter girl's habits, behavior, and friends. He asks me to inform him if there is anything I need more details about and promises to send updates every two days. He anticipates having more because he had not previously been watching for everything that we wanted."
"Good, good," came the response. "Your son does you proud, acting so quickly to provide Us with what We need." He paused for a moment, then continued with an edge of menace to his voice, "You did not inform your son about Our presence, did you?"
"No, my Lord!" Lucius replied quickly. "Draco knows nothing about You or Your plans. All he knows is that I desire the information, nothing more."
"Excellent," the Dark Lord replied. "We are pleased to hear this, but now it is time to make plans for taking the Potter bint from Hogwarts. The original plan would have seen her portkeyed away, but that was only going to work because of special circumstances surrounding the Triwizard Cup. Now another plan is needed, and quickly."
"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied. "Aside from Your spy in Hogwarts, what other resources do we have?"
"You, Wormtail, and Nagini are our resources here while Our spy and Draco are our resources at Hogwarts." Lucius blanched slightly at the mention of Draco possibly being used and was glad that his low bow prevented this reaction from being seen up in the bassinet.
"I'm not sure exactly how Draco would be able to help kidnap—"
"No need for false modesty," the Dark Lord said with an amused tone. "Your son is doing very well so far! He will make a fine Death Eater some day, following proudly in your footsteps, and all due to your excellent teachings, We are sure. So perhaps it's time for him to start taking steps towards that glorious future that awaits him, and what better way than to provide critical aid in Our resurrection!" This was followed by high-pitched cackling that set Lucius' teeth on edge, but he dared not say anything against his Lord's plans.
If Draco is destined to play a role in this, then there's nothing I can do but help ensure that he gets as much protection and support as I can muster, Lucius concluded. It's a good thing that we're doing all of this here rather than at Malfoy Manor, because Narcissa would throw a fit if she knew what the Dark Lord might have in store for our son.
It was at that point that he realized, though, that sooner or later he'd be the one who'd have to tell her.
Thursday, March 4, 1995, Evening.
"Hermione, you haven't seen Fleur around, have you?" Jasmine asked as she filled up her plate for dinner.
"No, as a matter of fact, I haven't," Hermione answered, a frown growing on her face. "Not for several days, in fact. You don't suppose something has happened to her, do you?"
"No, I don't believe so," Jasmine answered. She paused for a moment before continuing, "And I have no idea why I think that. For some reason, though, it just feels like the right thing to say. It's like I know it, but I can't figure out how or why."
Hermione cocked her head and said, "I feel the same way, actually. And as odd as it is that you are experiencing that, it's even odder for us both to be. I wonder why that is?"
"I'd like to say that Fleur might know, but even if she were here, she probably wouldn't be allowed to tell us," Jasmine said a little bitterly.
"I know, it does get frustrating," Hermione agreed. "Yet for some reason, now that you mention her, I'm really missing her. I guess I got used to our talks."
"Yeah," Jasmine responded, "I think I might even miss little Gabrielle, despite how clingy she could be."
"Merlin, yes," Hermione said with a smile, "I didn't think she'd ever let go of you. It was like someone hit her with an overpowered sticking charm!" The two witches shared a laugh at the memories of the small veela.
Albus Dumbledore closely watched the interaction between Miss Potter and Miss Granger at the Gryffindor table during dinner. As far as he could tell, there was no difference as of yet: the two witches were in good spirits and as close as ever. He'd also not heard from any of the castle's portraits or elves about any problems between the two.
It had been two days already since he'd spoken to Severus about the problem, and his Potions professor had assured him the following morning that he'd had an idea that he'd already begun working on. So far, though, nothing at all seemed to have come of it, and while Dumbledore wasn't exactly worried yet, he was starting to grow a bit concerned. The sooner something was done, the better, because the more time that went by without something happening, the more conflicted Dumbledore felt about trying to sow any discord between the two young witches, whether directly or indirectly.
He had never been completely convinced that it was a good idea, but he also couldn't think of a better way of reducing Miss Granger's negative influence on Miss Potter, and that, in turn, seemed like the only way of returning the Girl Who Lived to the right and proper path that she needed to follow in order to secure a peaceful future for all of wizarding Britain. Even though she wasn't aware of that path or that future, Dumbledore certainly was, and it was incumbent upon him to help guide her. After all, if he didn't, then who would?
No, he concluded yet again, it really is for the best that this be done, even if it hurts a few in the short term. I just wish that I weren't the one who has to make such decisions.
Friday, March 5, 1995, Morning.
When Jasmine and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast a little later than usual, all conversations stopped and the entire student body seemed to hold its collective breath in anticipation. The two Gryffindor witches had no idea what was going on, but it was unnerving and creepy to say the least. Once they got to the table to eat, though, and saw the expressions on the faces of Ginny, Ron, and Neville, they knew something was wrong.
"What's going on?" Jasmine asked.
"Here," Ron said, pushing a copy of the Daily Prophet across the table. "You need to read this."
"It's not as bad as it looks at first," Ginny said quickly, "but it's still pretty bad."
Their hearts stopped and all the blood drained from their faces when they read the headline:
JASMINE POTTER'S LOVE TRYST WITH MUGGLEBORN!
Heroine and savior of wizarding Britain, Jasmine Potter has been caught engaging in inappropriate behavior unbecoming of any British witch, never mind the Girl Who Lived, writes Rita Skeeter. Perhaps because she didn't receive the proper upbringing which her loving parents would have provided her, she's been led astray by muggleborn Hermione Granger, whose loose morals and muggle attitudes have corrupted our national treasure.
A plain but ambitious girl, Miss Granger has developed a unseemly taste for famous witches and wizards. Not content to seduce Viktor Krum, Bulgaria's hero of the recent World Quidditch Cup, she's drawn poor Miss Potter into her sexual shenanigans, and now both witches are reportedly participating in indecent activities with the older Bulgarian wizard.
According to some eyewitnesses, she even tried to seduce poor Gilderoy Lockhart while she was only a second-year student, but fortunately he had the strength of character to resist her muggle wiles. Whether his rejection of her casual attitudes towards physical intimacy had anything to do with his being cursed so badly that he's now a permanent resident of St. Mungo's is something the authorities will have to determine.
The unscrupulous Miss Granger has had her claws sunk deep into the Girl Who Lived ever since their first year, when she reportedly faked being attacked by an unknown creature in order to trick Miss Potter into saving her, thus ensnaring the poor girl in a relationship that would slowly corrupt her over the years. "Potter trails around behind her in a daze half the time," one anonymous student revealed to me. "It's like she can't do anything without Granger's permission, and usually participation as well. We all wonder what happened to Potter to cause her to not be able to think or act for herself. Granger's done something to her, and I don't think anyone has investigated it yet."
Mr. Krum became entangled in the muggleborn's machinations earlier this year when he arrived to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. After falling for the duplicitous charms of this depraved product of muggle culture, he even invited her to spend time with him at his home in Bulgaria. Miss Potter has presumably been invited as well, allowing Miss Granger to drag both of her victims even deeper into her degenerate web while far from the watchful eyes of Britain's upstanding witches and wizards.
"She's incredibly repellent," reported an anonymous female student about Miss Granger, "but she's also quite smart, and I wouldn't be surprised if she were capable of brewing a powerful Love Potion." This reporter was unable to find any evidence that Miss Potter or Mr. Krum had been tested for potions or charms which might have been used to facilitate their corruption at the hands of the muggleborn, and I hope that the allegations will be investigated with all due speed.
In the meantime, I am sure that the rest of wizarding Britain will join me in wishing Miss Potter the best in her efforts to avoid being sullied further and to escape the clutches of that deviant muggleborn.
Jasmine and Hermione stared at the paper in mute horror and disbelief. Ginny was right that it could have been worse, but not by much. The story may have failed to out the two of them as a couple, but the headline and half of the article implied it heavily — it was only the presence of Viktor Krum that prevented it.
Right now it seemed that their only hope for not being completely outed was the apparent desire of witches and wizards to not notice or think about the existence of same-sex couples. The two had long lamented the inability of magicals to see what was in front of their faces if it contradicted their comforting beliefs; now, they were utterly dependent upon it.
"Even though she could have said worse," Ginny finally said, not mentioning specifics given where they were, "this will still harm both of your reputations. You, Hermione, will be seen as a scarlet woman who can't be trusted around witches or wizards because you're too muggle in your outlook on relationships and behavior."
"Ugh!" Ron interjected. "Mum is going to go ballistic when she reads this. She's always going on about the importance of purity and avoiding scandalous relationships. She's always reading these wizarding romance books where the woman is swept off her feet by a dashing pureblood hero but saves herself until marriage, and then every time she sleeps with her husband, she has another kid."
"And how do you know what's in those books?" Ginny asked pointedly.
Ron's ears turned bright red as he stammered out a reply. "I, uh, well, I got really bored one summer and, uh, kinda read a couple."
"You and I are going to have to have a long talk," Ginny said with a frown before turning back to the other two. "As I was saying, Jasmine, you will be seen as someone too weak-willed to even be entrusted with the running of your own life, never mind any other responsibilities."
"You'll both be criticized," Neville added, "but Hermione will be the biggest target. Other muggleborn may be targeted as well, given how this article criticizes muggle culture. There will be calls for investigations, for Hermione to be removed from Hogwarts, and maybe even for the two of you to be separated somehow."
Ginny nodded. "People won't want to tolerate the Girl Who Lived being led astray by muggle ideas and attitudes. Even those who aren't openly bigoted against muggles and muggleborn will see this as proof that muggle culture is harmful — that muggles and their ideas should be kept as far away from young, impressionable witches and wizards as possible."
"Even though I was raised as a muggle?" Jasmine asked, finally able to find her voice.
"I don't know how many people actually know that," Ron replied. "The stories about you always said you were brought up in a magical household where you received special training. Even if people understood that the stories were made up, I doubt that they would ever expect someone like you to be raised by muggles." At the look on her face, Ron raised his hands placatingly and said, "Hey, I'm just telling you what people think — I never said they had good reason to think it."
"I will say one thing," Neville said. "This article comes across a lot differently after hearing what Bl… well, what we recently learned about how wizarding Britain treats marriage." Jasmine and Hermione both nodded while Ginny and Ron gave him quizzical looks. "The three of us learned some interesting facts about how sex and marriage are treated in wizarding Britain — facts that kids our age aren't usually told. There's a lot that this article isn't coming right out and saying, but I'll bet the adults are able to see it."
While Neville explained what they'd heard from Blaise, though without revealing his name, Hermione and Jasmine took the time to look around the still-silent Great Hall. They saw a lot of different expressions in the faces of their fellow students. Most were curious. A very few — mainly those who had been joining them for their bi-weekly study group — were sad or sympathetic. At the Slytherin table there were quite a few proud and gleeful faces — and none more so than that of Draco Malfoy, who was prominently displaying his "Potter Stinks" badge.
As usual, there was no reaction from Dumbledore, whose face was unreadable. No one demanded that any of the badges be taken off, much less that the students wearing them be punished. No one stood up to denounce the accusations made against Hermione or even to caution students that they shouldn't believe everything they read in a newspaper. McGonagall looked furious, but they knew that she was in a difficult position, and Jasmine gave her a very fast, very slight smile to indicate that she understood.
Hermione frowned for a moment, reread part of the article, then said, "That's odd."
"What?" Jasmine asked.
"Skeeter mentions me being invited to Bulgaria," Hermione replied.
"So?" Ron asked.
"So," Hermione explained, "He invited me back during the Yule Ball. In fact, he did it while we were walking outside."
"I remember that," Neville interjected. "It was just you two and me with Jasmine. No one was ever close enough to hear anything we said. I didn't even hear him invite you, and I was right there."
"Me, too," Jasmine said, sounding a bit put out to only be hearing about this now.
Hermione waved her hand dismissively and said, "I didn't bother mentioning it because I turned him down, so it wasn't important. But what is important is how she knew. I obviously didn't tell her, and I'm sure Viktor didn't. He doesn't read this paper and isn't very impressed with British wizarding media."
"She must be spying on you somehow," Ginny concluded.
Hermione nodded. "We'll all have to be extra vigilant until we figure out how. Otherwise, who knows what else she might find out." Everyone but Ron immediately knew what she meant and vowed to be even more careful than they had been in the past.
When they filed out of the Great Hall for their History of Magic class, none of them noticed the scowl that grew on Snape's face, nor how the headmaster's expression shifted from impassive to regretful while his shoulders slumped as if a very great weight had been set upon them.
Friday, March 5, 1995, Late Morning.
Snape strode quickly towards the headmaster's office, hoping that he'd be able to get this meeting over with as soon as possible. He'd had to cancel one class in order to make time for this — the note from Dumbledore made it quite clear that meeting him was a higher priority than everything else — and he didn't want to have to do the same to another class as well.
Fortunately he'd prepared in advance just in case things went pear-shaped, though never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that matters would turn out like this. He really wasn't sure yet whether he should find a way to give Malfoy points or hex the little snot. I'll probably have to end up doing both, Snape thought irritably.
Upon entering the office Snape quickly realized that the situation was rather worse than he originally surmised. Instead of the usual friendly greeting, Dumbledore simply motioned him to sit in one of the chairs. He wasn't even offered a sherbet lemon, which to his recollection was a first. There was certainly no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, and the grandfatherly demeanor was completely absent.
The headmaster rose from his seat, picked up his copy of the Daily Prophet, and threw it down on Snape's side of the large desk. "Is this your doing?" he asked sternly. "Is this what you had in mind when you told me that you'd take care of it? Did you really feel it necessary to completely ruin one young witch's reputation across all of wizarding Britain and seriously damage the reputation of another?" Dumbledore leaned forward, placing both palms flat on his desk while glaring at Snape as he thundered, "Is this really your idea of a good plan, Severus?"
Only the iron self-control Snape had developed over the years kept him from sneering in derision at the old man's hand-wringing, but it was a near thing. "Of course it was necessary," he wanted to say. Or perhaps, "What do you really care about the know-it-all Granger anyway? One form of sacrifice is as good as another. Don't get all high and mighty on me now because it was you who started this."
But no, he couldn't say those things, so instead he equivocated. "I can assure you, Headmaster, that I never planned on anything being published in the Daily Prophet or indeed in any sort of media whatsoever. I never spoke to Rita Skeeter or any other reporter. I never asked for nor sought for anything like this," he gestured at the paper, "to happen." He never said, though, that he wasn't responsible, nor that he didn't have a good idea of who else might be as well.
Dumbledore sat heavily back down in his chair and closed his eyes in obvious relief. "I'm glad to hear that, my boy. I was so very afraid that you were the one who caused this story to be published."
Now that he appeared to no longer be under suspicion, Snape decided to push a little. "Is it ultimately that much of a problem, though?"
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, opening his eyes and looking carefully at his Potions professor.
"I realize that this is much more than you intended," Snape quickly continued, "but what if it accomplishes your goals? Are there negatives that really outweigh the positives?"
"Of course there are negatives." Dumbledore said angrily. "There are obvious and unambiguous negatives for the reputations of those two young witches."
"And if Granger's reputation is damaged for the moment," Snape replied, trying to downplay the consequences as much as possible, "is that really not a price worth paying for the sake of creating some distance between her from Potter?"
"I'm sure she wouldn't think it worth paying," Dumbledore tried to protest as he took of his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"I doubt she'd consider any price worth paying," Snape pointed out, "but since she is the source of the problem, her opinion really isn't relevant, is it? You didn't ask her opinion before, so why take it into account now? And as a muggleborn, what use is her reputation in the long run? It's not like she'd ever be fully accepted in our society or would be losing out on a successful career."
Dumbledore sighed wearily, not wanting to concede the point and certainly not wanting to be reminded of how bad a muggleborn witch often had it in their society, but he was unable to offer a counterargument. "And what of the tarnished reputation of Miss Potter?" he asked, trying to shift the topic to something easier.
"If she's perceived as being too readily misled for her own good," Snape suggested, "won't it be easier for you to convince others to leave her affairs in your hands? And if Miss Granger is perceived as doing the misleading, won't that make it easier for you to justify separating them, if the article doesn't do it already on its own?"
Dumbledore pondered that for a few moments, then seemed to accept that this turn of events might end up being useful. "Very well," he said, "thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I will have to give some thought to how I might be able to use this article and the ensuing fallout, despite how awful it is."
As the potions professor reached the door, Dumbledore called out, "One more thing, Severus. Please do find out if you can who is responsible for this article — the students who were quoted, for example. If nothing else, this sets a dangerous precedent which we will have to nip in the bud."
Snape turned and gave the headmaster a curt nod before leaving. While walking to the dungeons, he entertained himself with the various ways he might be able to punish Draco for putting him in this situation, then the ways he could reward Draco for doing such an effective job at hurting two of the students he despised the most.
Neither Snape nor Dumbledore ever noticed that the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black wasn't in his frame during that meeting.
Friday, March 5, 1995, Late Afternoon.
If the stares, whispers, and snickering had been bad after Jasmine's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, they were downright unbearable in the wake of Rita Skeeter's article. Neither witch could escape it, and both found it difficult to keep going, despite the occasional sympathetic face in the sea of curious hostility. Neville and Ron stayed close, trying to create a buffer between their two friends and the rest of the school, but there was only so much they could do.
The worst, though, naturally arrived with their Potions class with Slytherin. Jasmine and Hermione both knew that at least some of the responsibility for the article rested with the house of snakes. Malfoy and his cronies were looking far too smug to merely be happy at others' misfortune. No, it was the smugness of one whose plan was coming together, so it was entirely expected that the worst whispering and taunting would come from them.
"Hey, Granger," Malfoy said with a smirk as they waited to enter the potions lab. "We were all wondering how you snagged such an important person to be your date for the Yule Ball. I guess we know now. Did you do it with just a love potion, or did you shag him, too?"
While some of the other Slytherins laughed, Pansy Parkinson's voice rang out. "Draco, you know that the love potions would have been enough. She only shagged him because muggles have such low morals — they don't know any better, like common farm animals. They'll shag anything that moves, human or beast."
"That's right, Pansy," Draco replied. "That's why mudbloods don't belong in our world. They corrupt our society, just like the mudblood Granger has corrupted Potter. Not that Potter had far to fall, mind you, but still. It never would have happened if the filth were kept off our streets and out of our schools."
After nearly a day of enduring all of the whispers, neither Jasmine nor Hermione had any patience left. Draco's comments went so far over the line that they were about to break their promise to Sirius in a very dramatic and messy fashion when Neville put a hand on both of their shoulders and squeezed. Hard.
Then Draco decided to poke at the one person keeping him alive. "Hey, Fatbottom," he called out, "do you think that it's because you're a squib that your date tossed you over for the mudblood's toy, or are you simply that boring?"
Fortunately for the blonde Slytherin, Snape opened the door and ushered them all into the lab. Once they were seated, he strode to the front of the class, turned, and said, "Potter! You will sit up here, alone, in front of my desk. It wouldn't do to let you sit next to Granger where she can continue to pervert your morals. It was bad enough when you simply cheated off of her, but I won't be a party to any further descent into muggle wickedness." When Jasmine simply gaped at him, he shouted, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, for failing to follow instructions. Now move!"
While she dragged her cauldron and bookbag up to the isolated table in the front of the room, Snape continued, "And another ten points from Gryffindor from you, Granger, for being such a bad influence on the Girl Who Lived. You need to learn to leave your filthy muggle ways at home with your muggle parents. This is a school for wizardry and witchcraft, not for muggle immorality and deviance."
Both Jasmine's and Hermione's faces were flushed with a combination of embarrassment and anger while most of the rest of the Gryffindor students kept looking at each other in concern. Only Ron and Neville knew enough to completely support the two witches, but they dared not say anything because they knew it would only make things worse. That didn't stop Neville from glaring at Snape the entire time — Jasmine and Hermione had told him about how Snape and Dumbledore had tried legilimency a couple of days ago, and this abuse on top of that made the shy Gryffindor see red.
While everyone worked on their potions, Snape took advantage of the opportunity to quietly berate Jasmine. "Don't let all of this attention from the press go to your head, Potter. You're already arrogant enough as it is. You and your sycophants may believe that the world revolves around you, but it doesn't. Neither you nor your dalliances are really all that important, despite your unjustified press coverage. Sooner or later the reporters will go away, and you'll be left alone to face what a pathetic failure of a witch you really are."
Jasmine tried her best to focus on her ingredient preparation rather than look at the hated Potions professor or think about what he was saying. She knew he was doing what all bullies do, which is to try to provoke a reaction from her and thus feel justified in hurting her more. It was how Vernon acted at home. It was how Dudley acted at school. Hogwarts, she had learned long ago, was no better.
Snape kept his voice low enough that the rest of the class wouldn't hear him, ensuring that it would be his word against Jasmine if she ever complained. "It doesn't matter how many gullible fools praise you for things you aren't responsible for, I'll always see through to the truth about you, Potter. And the truth is that you are just a nasty little girl who thinks that basic morality is beneath her. You haven't been misled by Granger — you're as responsible as she is. You're just as much of an immoral rule-breaker as she is."
Jasmine's entire body was quivering with pent-up fury. Because she kept her head down and her hair was partially obscuring her face, Snape was unable to see the very slight green glow coming from her eyes. Had they been visible, he might have thought twice about continuing to poke at her like he was.
"You're keeping secrets, Potter, I know it. And I know how to get those secrets, too." Jasmine couldn't keep her head from whipping up at that, though she had the presence of mind to quickly close her eyes and look back down again. When he shoved his hand into his robes she feared that he was going to pull his wand and launch an active legilimency attack, something she'd never be able to prevent or even break.
Instead, he pulled out a small vial filled with a clear liquid. "This is veritaserum," Snape explained, continuing to speak softly. "It's an extremely powerful truth serum that's highly regulated by the Ministry; but I brew it myself, and one of these nights, a few drops might wind up in your drink. If that happens, you'll never be able to stop yourself from disclosing every single one of your deepest, darkest secrets in front of the entire school." Snape sneered evilly. "Then we'll find out how much of Skeeter's article is true... and how much that's worse that she missed."
Jasmine's face went white as a sheet as she returned to her potion ingredients. She tried hard to focus on what she was doing, but even on her best days she had trouble with the subject. Without Hermione's help, there was no way her potion would turn out well, even discounting Snape's bullying. In the end, she felt fortunate to have only gotten a P for the day, though that might have partially been because Snape was distracted by the sudden appearance of Durmstrang's Headmaster Karkaroff.
Jasmine didn't know what he wanted to talk to Snape so badly about, and at that point didn't care. All she wanted to do was get out and get back to Gryffindor tower. Neither she nor Hermione bothered going to dinner that evening, even though they knew that their absence might further fuel the gossip mill. All they cared about was holding each other as they wondered at how malicious and hurtful the wizarding world could be.
Jasmine found herself returning to a question that had been coming up more and more over the years: is it even worth it?
Saturday, March 6, 1995, Morning.
Draco Malfoy was disappointed when he saw Potter and the mudblood come down to breakfast. Their absence from dinner the night before had meant that Skeeter's article was really affecting them badly, he was sure of it; and he had hoped that it would continue to do so today. Not even the tongue-lashing he'd gotten from his head of house last night could do anything to dampen his mood. So what if Snape thought he'd gone too far? From Malfoy's perspective, the outcome had been perfect so far, and he was sure that his father would agree. Eventually, Snape would as well.
Malfoy was so busy gloating to his fellow Slytherins that he didn't notice the owl which Jasmine and Hermione received, but he did notice when they left the Great Hall and made for carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade, so he hurried to follow them. He was determined to gather as much information for his father as he could and wanted to be sure that he could record their every movement while in the village.
Neither Jasmine nor Hermione had any idea that they were being closely watched as they made their way through Hogsmeade, killing time until the appointment which Sirius had requested in his owl letter.