The Houses Competition

Hufflepuff, HoH

Standard

Prompt: [Time Period] Post-Next Generation Era

Additional: No repeated time period within the house

Word Count: 1531, per Google Docs

AN: Since this is set in the Post-Next Generation Era, Medora Lupin is (I hope obviously) an original character, as is Oppenheimer. They're mine, but nothing else is. This story is (incredibly loosely) tied to another one of my one-shots, "Thirty Years Later". Not required to understand the story at all, but it might worth taking a look at if you're interested in Oppenheimer. Also I'd like to make the disclaimer that, since this is set so far in the future, nothing here can really be deemed canon-compliant (mostly because canon doesn't extend this far, and if it does, I'm scrapping it). I think that's about it. Thanks for reading!

Forgotten Lessons

Medora Lupin slipped quietly out of the castle, patting her cloak pockets to make sure she had what she needed.

Notebook? Check.

Pen? Check.

Map? Check.

She pulled it out and searched it once more. She, her quarry, and the immortal Mrs. Norris were the only ones moving around at this hour. Even though she wasn't technically breaking the rules, since she'd already been to bed and woken up, Medora knew that it would be best if she didn't run into anyone unexpected at four in the morning.

She pulled her hair—long and dark today for her secret mission—around to help camouflage herself in the shadows. She pulled her long black cloak tighter over her robes and crept slowly down the hill to the greenhouses. Through the green plastic walls she could see the headmaster doing… something. She may have been a seventh year, but she was still too short to see over the giant Flutterby bushes the fifth years were cultivating for graduation. Medora snuck around to the door. It was slightly ajar, and from this angle she could almost see—

"If you're going to watch me, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay in my line of sight," the headmaster said, startling Medora. "And shut the door behind you."

She slunk into the greenhouse, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Sorry, Uncle Neville. I was just curious about what you're doing down here."

Headmaster Longbottom put down his spade and quirked an eyebrow at her. "You'd think someone with your tendency to snoop would have a bit more stealth. Honestly, you're about as stealthy as your grandmother was, though Teddy is only marginally better himself. And how exactly did you know I was down here?"

Medora's flush deepened. "Would you believe me if I told you I woke up early to take a walk and just happened to see you?"

"Not one bit," Neville said, suppressing a smirk. "You've been late to too many early classes to make me believe you of all people woke up early on a Sunday to take a stroll around the grounds. In truth I should think you had the help of that map that's been shuffled around the Potter/Lupin family for a few generations now. But that's not what you came down here to talk about, is it?"

Medora let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "No, sir. I have some questions, and I think you're the only one who's going to be able—or willing—to answer them."

Neville's brow furrowed. "Is everything alright at home, Medora? I know Arthur's been feeling a bit down, especially after Molly's passing, but I thought he was doing a bit better."

"It's nothing like that," she assured him. "I'm honestly more worried about Papa Harry."

"He's not ready to retire, is he?" Neville grinned, turning back to the small vine he was repotting. "I knew that old war horse wasn't ready to give up hunting the bad guys, no matter what Hermione and Ron say."

Medora shook her head. "He's beyond ready to retire. Says he wants to spend more time with us grandkids. But I don't think he's going to seriously consider coming home until Oppenheimer is dealt with."

Neville froze, stiff as a board. "You weren't supposed to find out about that."

"Hufflepuffs are very good finders," Medora muttered under her breath.

Shaking himself, Neville turned to face her again. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione will deal with Oppenheimer. Everything will be fine," he assured her.

"I know that," she answered with confidence. "Papa Harry won't rest until he knows we're safe. But what I don't understand is why. Why is this Oppenheimer person so, so… so terrible?"

Neville's eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you know?"

With a deep breath Medora said, "What I know is pieced together from snippets of conversations I've heard through the years. Oppenheimer started out just spreading anti-pureblood propaganda around Russia, and no one really took them seriously. Somehow it progressed to fear-mongering and petty vandalism, and everyday people in Russia started to take notice. When they started making small raids on government facilities, Papa Harry had just taken over as head of the DMLE and kind of gave the Russian Ministry a bit of a shove in the right direction. They hunted Oppenheimer and started putting out their own propaganda, and it seemed to work. Oppenheimer disappeared, and things went back to normal. That's been almost a decade. But over Christmas I heard Papa Harry telling you and the other adults that they were 'wreaking havoc' in Russia again and that this time the anti-pureblood agenda was catching on, and quickly. So why are they back, Uncle Neville? Why is someone trying to ruin other peoples' lives like this?"

He smiled sadly at her and brushed a bit of dirt off the shoulder of her yellow and black trimmed robes. "Sometimes I forget that your generation is so far removed from the events that irrevocably shaped mine. I think we were all just so glad the Second War was over that we didn't do a good job of teaching you about the way and the reasons why all of it happened. Medora, what do you know of Voldemort?"

"I know he was a bad guy, and Papa Harry beat him when he was my age," she answered. "But I really only know what I've read in my history books. We don't ever talk about it. I tried to ask a few times when I was younger, but everyone shut me down. I think it's really hard for Papa Harry to talk about it."

"It's hard for a lot of us to talk about…" Neville whispered. He pulled in a deep breath and conjured a pair of comfy-looking armchairs. "Have a seat, Medora. It's high time you learned about the things we lost a lot of wonderful people for."

For the next four hours, Neville explained the history of both the First and Second Wizarding Wars to his best friend's granddaughter. Occasionally Medora saw him shudder and take a long moment to collect himself, as though the memories still brought him physical pain. She scribbled down everything in her notebook, not wanting to miss a single tiny detail. When he'd finished, Neville called an elf and asked for some brandy. Even though it was only mid-morning, he poured them each a generous helping. Medora downed hers quickly, hoping it would stop her shivers of fear and anger.

"And now you know why Harry and the rest of us are so concerned with this Oppenheimer person. We've seen firsthand just how quickly and violently this kind of rhetoric can take over an entire population. We lost too many precious people to let it happen again anywhere," Neville finished.

"But what can I do?" Medora pressed. "You and Papa Harry and everyone else shouldn't be the only ones trying to beat this. I can fight!"

Neville placed a calming hand on her arm. "I appreciate that, Medora. But there's no fighting to be done right now, at least not in a physical sense. What Harry is trying to do is prevent that completely. So right now the best thing you can do is simply live your life. Go finish that Charms mastery I know you have lined up. Help make the world the best place you can, and be thankful for the peace. But you can also make sure that everyone, especially your peers, know exactly what this peace cost. Talk to them about why hate speech is dangerous. Remind them why it's important that everyone be treated fairly. Explain the past to them so that all of you can learn from it. Evil is a weed. Given the smallest chance, it will sprout up anywhere and, once it takes root, grow like wild. You can rip out the weed, but it will always take more time and effort and cause more damage. The best thing you can do it keep the area clear and prevent the weed from growing in the first place."

"Always the plant metaphors," Medora muttered, rolling her eyes but smiling. "Thank you, Uncle Neville. I'll try to do what you said, but I'm still just a kid. I don't know that it will do much good."

"Your Papa Harry was your age when he killed Voldemort," Neville reminded her.

"And so were you when you sassed him and then cut the head off the last horcrux," Medora finished resolutely.

Neville nodded. "You're right. But enough of that. I believe that, if we leave now, we can make it back up to the Great Hall for Sunday roast. And I certainly don't want to miss out on those delightful roasted potatoes Winky makes."

As she walked back up to the castle with the headmaster, Medora's resolve solidified. Oppenheimer may be far away, but she could still do her part to keep threat of evil at bay. If that wasn't enough, then she'd help deal with it when the time came. As Hagrid was so fond of saying, "What's coming will come, and we'll meet it when it does." And Medora knew that she would be ready.