Author's Note: It's been a long ride, and I'd like to thank any of you who have made it this far. I'd appreciate if you'd leave a review as to whether you guessed the ending or not. I'm really curious, as this was the mystery I didn't expect people to be able to solve, as it took me a good six months to come up with it. I'd like to address reviews at the start of the chapter.
ViviTheFolle - The darkest of dark lords isn't any of those things, but you'll probably think of course, as soon as you read it. At least if I've done my job properly, I've been angling for this ending ever since Hermione confronted Pettigrew. Thanks for all the reviews!
Merendinoemiliano - Definitely excessive for cannon Dumbledore. In this version of the story, both Dumbledore and Hermione are stereotypical zoomers. If they get bored, they'll just start making conflict so they have something to do. Neither are meant to be evil, just a little immature and occasionally thoughtless. Also, Dumbledore didn't run from power in this story, he taught because he found joy in helping students reach their potential. So he helped Tom Riddle become his best self intrigued by what Riddle would do with the information, and only later realized how much he'd messed up, after which point he dedicated his life to fixing his mistake.
In order to prevent spoiling the ending of the story, I changed the title of this chapter in the dropdown menu. So I hope you enjoy:
Chapter 37 - Hermione Tattles
It was Nicholas Flamel.
Of course, the greatest wizard who had ever lived was Doctor Nicholas Flamel (who was afterall a doctor, and not some uneducated warlord). The philosopher's stone was quite obviously wizardkind's single greatest achievement. It might, might even be mankind's greatest achievement if handled with even a tiny bit of competence or mere common sense. All one would have to do to make the philosopher's stone a boon for humanity was anything. Literally anything!
And yet, in defiance of all logic, Nicholas Flamel had literally done nothing with it.
Doctor Flamel didn't hate muggles. He'd saved them. On occasion. Doctor Flamel didn't hate wizards either. And yet he'd allowed them to die. And die. And die. He'd killed billions through the worst of crimes: inaction. Unlike horcruxes, there was no reason the elixir of life couldn't be shared. In fact, it could be. Nicholas Flamel had shared the elixir with his wife. But he hadn't shared his brilliance with mankind, he hadn't even tried to make a difference, and that was truly despicable.
Doctor Flamel had solved medicine. He had created a panacea which could cure any ailment. He'd created The Holy Grail of… well, the philosopher's stone pretty much was The Holy Grail. And yet he'd turned down every suitor, including the greatest Englishman who had ever lived, Sir Isaac Newton. So if Hermione came to him, if she got on her knees and begged, why would she be any different?
She'd needed something more. Something he couldn't ignore. An unstoppable villain with a legitimate plan for destroying the world. She couldn't have manufactured a better tool than Lord Voldemort if she'd tried. So she'd given him Doctor Flamel's stone, and she'd made no moves to prevent his genocidal plans for the muggles. She'd used Voldemort as a puppet, a pawn in her battle against Doctor Flamel's greedy hoarding of the philosopher's stone (what sort of stagnant society allowed a bloody patent to last more than five centuries?). She'd even gotten him to agree not to attack anyone under her influence. Anyone… So long as they obeyed her of course… How very coincidental, how very unforeseen, that her Dark Lord's rise to power had the unfortunate side effect of forcing her into a position of authority over anyone who might oppose him… Which was everyone… Hehehehe…
Not that she wished for such a thing of course… Afterall, when she'd questioned Professor McGonagall about why witches and wizards lived in secrecy why she'd been told that it was because those lowly muggles would never stop asking magicalkind to magic away their problems, because of course, when someone was dying of cancer wouldn't it be too much of a bother to help them? It was so very tragic that her Dark Lord's rise would make such nonsense impossible.
"Well… I suppose… There's nothing for it." Hermione sighed, doing her best to sound quite put-upon. Instead she just sounded like an impatient child on Christmas morning, eager for her next fluoride treatment. "Now that he's invincible, taking on Lord Voldemort would be quite foolish wouldn't it?"
Headmaster Dumbledore glared, his eyes as cold as ice. "Miss Granger, it is too late to back down now. Evil exists, when good men do nothing."
"Precisely," Hermione said excitedly, accidentally spraying Draco with saliva. "Which is why we have to tell on him. It's the responsible thing to do."
"I suppose you'll be needing Finch-Fletcherly," said Professor Snape. She did need Finch-Fletcherly actually, how had he… Aww… Professor Snape must have known her plot for quite some time. Since she'd attended a certain office hours, unless she was off her mark.
Hermione nodded, Professor Snape left the room, and the rest of her friends were left scrambling- well except for one who picked up on things rather quickly.
"I don't think that's such a good idea Hermione," said Harry. "They don't really like our sort. They- Hogwarts has to be separate from them!"
"Oh Harry, don't be silly," Hermione chided patiently. "We're magic. We'll be treated like gods. Think of all the wonderful things we could do for them. Why, think of all the money and time that could be saved from portkeys alone! I know I have… Extensively."
"But-"
"Excuse me Harry," said Headmaster Dumbledore politely. "But it appears you've caught on before me. Could you explain just what Miss Granger is proposing?"
"She wants to break the Statute of Secrecy sir," said Harry angrily. "She wants to tell the muggles about what Lord Voldemort is trying to do. And it might work, but they think we're all the same. They won't understand. They'll lock us all up! They despise our sort! You can't do this Hermione! It… It'll ruin everything! The muggle world is cold and cruel and if we remove the separation all the magic will be lost!"
"I see," said Headmaster Dumbledore. He inspected Hermione carefully.
Hermione folded her arms stubbornly and glared right back. "We've little choice. Lord Voldemort is unstoppable. But his plan will hardly work if the muggles know his dastardly plot. I'll tell on him. Don't think I won't."
"That may be so," said Headmaster Dumbledore, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But Harry is right to fear them. Perhaps it would neutralize the threat of Lord Voldemort, but it's likely we'd be hunted and killed."
"Doubtful," said Draco. "Yes, muggles as a whole are little more than filthy barbarians. But those with true power have class. We can work with them, sir."
"4 Trillion US Dollars." Hermione said. "That's how much money muggles spent on transportation last year. Portkeys and floo could reduce that number a thousand fold. We could do great things for them. Why wouldn't they want to work with us?"
"It doesn't matter," said Harry stubbornly. "They're not going to spare us for a car. They like their planes, trains, and automobiles anyways. No need to resort to funny business."
"Oh please," said Hermione, waving her hand dismissively. His presentation was ill prepared, he hadn't even bothered to gather any data to back his arguments, thus relying on baseless appeals to emotion. "I had to take the public buses to Eton with the dirty commoners. No wanker in their right mind would ever choose a daily commute if there were any viable alternative."
Draco gasped and touched her shoulder in sympathy.
"You've never met my Uncle Dursley," said Harry darkly.
"And you've never met him on his daily commute," Hermione said knowingly.
Harry grew quite red, and started to shout. "I'm telling you, all the fancy tricks in the worl-"
"Hermione," interrupted Neville rudely. "What did you steal for Voldemort?"
"A philosopher's stone," said Hermione proudly. "And it took quite the impressive bit of magic, if I do say so myself."
"You should be capitalizing it," said Neville incorrectly. "And where's the The. It's The Philosopher's Stone. Not a philosopher's stone."
Hermione chortled heartily at Stupid Neville's foolishness. What fool would capitalize a philosopher's stone? Only a complete dunderhead would think it was a proper noun. Afterall, you didn't call every flu vaccine The Flu Vaccine. And she shan't be calling every philosopher's stone The Philosopher's Stone.
Neville stared at Headmaster Dumbledore.
"I see," said Headmaster Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "I suppose I'll need to schedule a meeting with Nick. While he'd seemed ready for his next grand adventure at the beginning of the year, it seems that the world isn't quite ready to let him go. Indeed, Nick appears the only one with the ability to save the world."
Hermione smirked. She wanted to be rich, immortal, perhaps even take over the world, and of course win her beloved Ronald's pure heart. Unfortunately, she was rather cowardly and selfish. She would never be a great military leader, but she wouldn't have wanted to conquer that way anyway. She'd rather make friends than take down enemies. She didn't want to rule over her followers through fear or force, but inspire them with a shared vision. If they followed her they'd be wealthy beyond belief, have centuries to enjoy their privileges, and be worshiped as gods. She was quite sure that that was a better deal than her competitor was offering.
XOXOXOX
Dad's desk was covered in plastic yellow ducks. On a paper several words were scribbled: floatation device, fills with water when squeezed once, squirts when squeezed twice. Toy? For children? It has been developed and produced in 17 different countries, why go through all the trouble to create such a product for such a simple purpose? What exactly is its function?
…That certainly was the question… Why? And there was only one answer.
"It's my fault," said Ginny numbly. "He's back, and it's my fault. I- If I hadn't thrown a tantrum like a bloody baby, if I hadn't separated from everyone, he'd have never…Never been able to… threaten Hermione. Using me! And then he wouldn't have returned. It's all my fault…"
"No," Dad licked his lips. "I should have told you earlier, but I didn't want you to grow conceited, arrogant… You-Know-Who would always have found a way to kidnap you. There was a prophecy made about you, Harry, and Neville Longbottom. I don't know the specifics but it's why our family went into hiding. Me and Frank made Dumbledore our secret keeper, but James chose… Pettigrew… He chose Pettigrew, so You-Know-Who could get at him. But now that You-Know-Who's got a chance to see you up close, he must have realized it was you. Ginny you are The Chosen One. Someday, Ginny, you will defeat Lord Voldemort."
"Bollocks," Ginny said. "Bollocks. I'm not The Chosen One. That's bloody stupid."
"Nonsense. You're the best Weasley," said Dad confidently, but The Twins shifted behind him uneasily. "I know it's a lot to accept. But just think of all you accomplished. A dueling champion. A seeker. A brilliant student…"
Dad was wrong. Ginny only did well because she studied hard. She was only a seeker because she was willing to break the rules, only a good duelist because she was willing to hurt people. What good would that do against You-Know-Who? She couldn't out dark The Dark Lord. Even if she was special (she wasn't) Ginny knew You-Know-Who. And he didn't view her as a threat. He didn't even think enough of her to use her as a tool. He'd only gotten close with her to get at Hermione. To him, she was a weakness to be exploited against the actual players.
She ought to have realized. If she… If she'd just had a- a drop of bloody humility - like Ron always told her - she'd have seen what was happening! She should have known! In fact- in fact Ron, Harry, and Neville, they all had bloody distanced themselves from Hermione because they'd bloody realized! She was the only one who hadn't. Just her. Just her!
"Ginny," said Fred.
"Nobody is going to blame you," said George.
"In fact we followed you," said Fred.
"Saw you get attacked," said George.
"Couldn't do a bloody thing about it," said Fred.
"So if you really think about it," said George.
"This whole thing is our fault," said Fred.
"Do you blame us?" Asked The Twins.
"No," said Ginny, her face growing red. "Don't be bloody wankers. I know it's not your fault. You weren't the ones who got themselves kidnapped. Got yourselves exchanged for You-Know-Who…"
The Twins opened their mouths to protest.
"Don't pretend you understand," Ginny bellowed. "You don't know! It wasn't you! YOU CAN'T BLOODY UNDERSTAND SO STOP TRYING!"
Dad shook his head at The Twins, and the three left the room. Good! Finally some privacy. Ginny grabbed one of the ducks and tore it apart. Tried to, but it wouldn't bloody rip. So she punted it across the room, and tipped over a bookshelf, just because she wanted to destroy something. She found a toy wooden train, and spiked it into the ground. It skipped off the cement and hit her in the shin. Ginny yelped, hopped on one foot- and the bloody thing still wasn't broken. Stupid, durable, muggle rubbish. Bah! Ginny kicked Dad's desk and screamed in pain.
What a horrible, no-good, very bad, utterly dreadful day!
"Look Ginny," said Ron, entering the room with Harry, Hermione, and Malfoy. "I know you're upset, but nobody blames you."
"Oh come off it you smug tart!" Ginny said, scowling. "You should be happy. You're not the worst Weasley anymore! Forget the family, everyone, everywhere is forever going to know me as the girl who brought back Voldemort through sheer helplessness. The damsel in distress who destroyed the bloody world!"
"Maybe you're right," said Ron. "But it doesn't matter what the world thinks of you. All that matters is what you think of you."
"You're telling me that?" Said Ginny, her laughter so bitter that it felt as if had ripped open the wounds The Philosopher's Stone had healed. "You? Mister pissing on Bill's cloak? Mister don't buy Charlie a broom? Mister Harry's just not the same since he became seeker? Come off it, of course I bloody care what people think of me. Sure it's shallow and stupid, but I'm bloody shallow and stupid. It's who I am!"
"Then conduct yourself appropriately," said Malfoy. "With class. If not for yourself, for Slytherin. Our champion is not to act like an ill-mannered rube."
Ginny fumed. "It doesn't matter! It doesn't bloody matter how I act. All anyone cares about is Hermione. She's the one that's going to make Slytherin great again. I'm nothing. His bargaining chip, that's all I'll ever be!"
Draco chortled like a ponce. "Hermione isn't a true Slytherin. Everyone knows that. We want you, Ginevra. You are Slytherin!"
"Quite right, Draco," Hermione drawled, sounding very pleased with herself. "I've long since outgrown that silly house. When people see me, they won't see Hogwarts, much less something as small as Slytherin, they'll simply see a shining beacon of mankind's brilliance. This is hardly a dark day Ginny, this isn't the end of the world, nor the beginning of his, it's the start of mine. My era. My world. So dry your tears. I'd planned all along for Tom to use you as a bargaining chip for the stone. For Old Man Tommy has a weakness that's just so dreadfully exploitable. He's frightened of death to an irrational degree you see - Voldemort literally means flight from death in French - and so in his fear he made an incredibly foolish mistake. He thought the game ended with capturing the stone and securing immortality for himself. He ought to have thought to himself, what is to happen after I capture the stone? How will the stakeholders react? What will they be forced to do? Actually, he ought to have refrained from challenging me in a game of strategy. He plays chess; I play three dimensional witch's chess. You ought not feel bad, especially when you eventually come to the realization that I used you as a valuable piece in my beautiful game with Doctor Flamel." Hermione smirked superiorly. "Tom thought you were his pawn against me, but really he was my pawn against Doctor Flamel. You were merely a pawn of a pawn, hardly a player with any agency. It was I, The Great Hermione Granger, who was the true puppet master of this stupendous story. Gwahaha!"
Ginny sniffed. "Gee, thanks Hermione… I'm glad I was a useful pawn in your games. I feel so much better."
Hermione beamed like a total ponce, either not recognizing Ginny's sarcasm or more likely not caring. "You're welcome!"
Funny… Despite everything, Hermione's villainous monologue had made her feel a little better, where everyone else's genuine sympathy had made her feel worse, if only because it didn't feel like she was being lied to.
"Everyone," said Harry quietly. "I'd like a word with Ginny alone."
Ron, Draco, and Hermione bustled out of the room.
"It's not your fault Ginny," said Harry.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "You too? Be a good boy and shut u-"
"What Hermione isn't telling you is why she and Dumbledore won't bother trying to kill Voldemort," said Harry. "It's me. I'm a horcrux. He must've put a portion of his soul in me when I was a baby. Maybe that's why he lost his power the first time… As long as I'm alive, he's invincible. It's all my fault."
Ginny sniffed. "No. It's my fault."
"No," said Harry. "It's my fault."
Ginny swatted Harry. "Would you come off it! It's my fault. Besides, you're The Chosen One."
"Only because I'm a horcrux," said Harry. "I don't think any of The Order will kill me. Voldemort won't let any of his do it either. So the only one who can kill him is me. By…"
Ginny held Harry's hand. She wanted to tell him not to, that he didn't have to, but she couldn't. Because she knew what it was like… To be the reason he was back.
"There's three of them out there," said Harry. "I can feel them, somehow… Once they're all found, once they're all destroyed, that's when I become The Chosen One. But until then I'm nobody."
"You're somebody to me," said Ginny firmly, gazing into Harry's brilliant green eyes, feeling a fire light inside her. "We're the reason he's back. Let's find those bloody horcruxes and end him once and for all!"
Harry smiled.
XOXOXOX
"…Very well, let me show you some of the so-called magic." Hermione adjusted her hair, made sure her suit was on properly, her microphone secure, and grabbed her wand from atop the blackwood podium. She was alone on an outdoor stage (as was proper in any tech demonstration), although several Hogwarts professors stood just out of broadcast view. She looked into the lens of a giant camera and gave it a toothy smile. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
She levitated the notepad of the skeptical journalist into the air. She magically floated the notepad in front of her, and used her hands to show that there were no strings above or below.
"Donald Barlett, of the Philadelphia Inquirer." The two-time winner of the pulitzer raised his hand above the sea of reporters. "With all due respect, that demonstration doesn't prove a damn thing. Magicians can levitate themselves, and we all know it's smoke and mirrors. It's a cute demonstration, but-"
Professor McGonagall turned into a cat.
"But," said Donald Barlett, "If this is a showpiece for holographic technology, bravo. I'm sure you'll make the Finch-Fletherly's another billion, but I think we've all had enough of the witches and wizards bullshit. So drop it, tell us how you're doing it, and get on with products and rollout."
Hermione sneered at the muggle's total lack of vision. "Another billion… Think bigger… Tens if not hundreds of trillions." She gave Professor Snape a glance.
He flicked his wand, and, with a pop, disapparated about five feet to his left.
"Only witches and wizards are capable of teleporting, however…" Hermione looked into the camera, and levitated a pair of boots with a big GW written across it onto the podium. "Have you ever been stuck in traffic? Have you ever been late for work? Have you ever been stuck up in an aeroplane? Well the solution to all your transportation problems is here, courtesy of the number one producer of magical goods and services, the GW Corporation, with one of its newest products, The PortkeyTM! Mister Barlett, be a darling and come up here."
Donald Barlett walked up to Hermione's world stage.
"Press your hand onto the boot," Hermione instructed.
Barlett rolled his eyes, reached out his hand, and vanished.
Hermione pressed her hand against the other portkey.
"Holy shit," Mister Barlett said, pacing back and forth, until he finally collapsed on his arse, getting his slacks covered in dust. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Jesus fucking Christ. This is… Is it really magic?"
Hermione nodded.
They stood atop the Great Pyramid of Giza. Mister Barlett stared at the endless horizon in wonder, goosebumps on his forearms. The view wasn't of a desert like in the textbooks, Giza was a modern city with a population in the millions, with all the infrastructure that went along with it, although the buildings were a tad brutalist. In the distance there was even a McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken, and a Pizza Hut, because even the ancient wonders couldn't be protected from the ever expanding reach of consumerism… Which stirred something deep within Hermione… A strange feeling, she'd felt only once before… She was going to make even the most magical of things mundane… No longer rare, no longer precious, just another commodity. Just another product to pick up for twelve pounds at the supermarket… It was truly… Truly…
Beautiful.
"And…" Mister Barlett looked up at her. "And I really… I can't learn it? I can never be magic?"
There was something innocent, childish about his disappointment.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "You're either born with magic, or you're not. I know it isn't fair, but I promise that we blessed few will share our gifts with the rest of the world. For a fee of course. Now if you would, put your hand on The PortkeyTM."
Barlett did, and they returned to the Finch-Fletcherly estate, to Hermione's world stage. The rest of the reporters crowded Mister Barlett demanding details.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione said, levitating The PortkeyTM to a clearing on the Finch-Fletcherly lawn. "To all the hard working reporters in attendance, feel free to give The PortkeyTM a try yourself. To those of you watching from home, please write to your local government officials if you're interested in your city adopting this new mass transit technology. Now then, onto the real news.
"Once you hear that magic is real, your mind immediately focuses on history. To our legends, to our myths, to dragons and phoenixes and sphinx. To elves and goblins and giants. They're all real."
Hermione slid around her podium, and paced the stage, letting the camera follow her. "And then, then you begin to consider something far greater. A treasure men from England to China have been chasing for millenia, the pursuit birthing cannons, guns, and chemistry. The ultimate prize, the final solution: the philosopher's stone. A stone that allows you to transmute any metal to gold, and more importantly create an elixir which will heal any physical ailment, including aging. This works on witches and wizards, and has worked on normal humans in past trials as well. Well as you may be able to guess by now, it's an entirely real product. Unfortunately…"
Hermione stopped and stared into the camera solemnly. "Unfortunately the prototype has been stolen in a display of despicable espionage by a terrorist cell of neo-nazis, led by a dangerous criminal: in the normal world he is known as the British war hero General Tom Riddle, but among magical kind he is known only as Lord Voldemort."
Hermione gave the camera a gleaming smile. "However, we've met with Nicholas Flamel, the inventor of The Philosopher's StoneTM, and he's agreed to help us mass produce this most valuable product. The creation of these stones will require the magic of witches and wizards, and the creation of the elixir of life requires magic as well, which will unfortunately limit production to the number of witches and wizards willing to help. What you and your government can do to help us produce these stones more quickly is to use your industrial complex to mine, process, and measure the materials we need to produce these stones… For too long our worlds have been separate. If the magical and mundane world can come together, we can create a more prosperous world of unimaginable splendor and connection, where nobody has to die before they are ready. Thank you."
Hermione bowed until the television broadcast cut.
"You've received several calls from muggles interested in investing in our company." Professor Snape said, handing her a state-of-the-art mobile phone that weighed only a few kilograms. "Among them are Bill Gates, George Bush, and Mikhail Gorbachev."
"Put me on with Gorbachev," Hermione said.
She debriefed him on the threat Lord Voldemort might pose to national security. She let him know about the Imperius Curse, and briefly encouraged him to begin disbanding their stockpile of nuclear weapons as Voldy was a certified loon who'd like nothing more than to blow up the world. She did touch on the supplies she would need for The Philosopher's StoneTM as well as finalize some plans for several Soviet PortkeysTM to add to the global network. Delicately, she brought up the fact that infiltration and mind control from Voldemort were all but certain, unless he was willing to follow her lead. How very unfortunate.
She then took calls from the other world leaders which were much the same. They seemed willing, eager even, to follow her instructions. It was strange. Men like Voldemort tried so hard to force others to give them power. But the easiest way to get power - and the only way Hermione would ever consider - was to convince others that it was in their best interest to give it to you.
XOXOXOX
"Oh Harry, be careful," said Hermione, giving her friend one last hug. The black and red Hogwart's Express rumbled behind her, students bumbling around her, armed soldiers of The United Kingdom Military providing security.
"I'll be fine," said Harry. "Snape won't let anything happen to me."
"And neither will I," said the shabby looking man, who had introduced himself as Remus Lupin, next year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Hermione eyed him suspiciously. He had been a member of the Order of The Phoenix yes, but his suit had a patch in it! A slacker if ever she'd seen one!
Hermione bit her lip, unable to contain her anxiety. "And you'd better not skive off on your homework again, Harry!" She said shrilly, thrusting an accusing index finger into his chest. "Only two O's, and one of them in that silly broomstickery! Aren't you the least bit ashamed? And P's in History of Magic and Astronomy, absolutely unacceptable young man! Just because you're The Chosen One, it doesn't excuse you from completing your homework!"
"It was because I learned I was a horcrux," Harry grumbled, glancing at his feet. "Back off Hermione. Some things are more important than school."
Hermione gasped at Harry's utterly mad blaspheme.
"Was it really?" Asked Professor Lupin skeptically. "Because I seem to recall you getting a Troll on your essay on The Werewolf Code of Conduct."
"It doesn't matter," Harry whinged petulantly. "When am I ever going to need to know that?"
"Well I think I know what we'll be doing this afternoon," said The Honorable Doctor Lupin. "Learning is never a waste of time. Your grades are no laughing matter. Think of your future, Harry. And don't try to sell me on that end of the world nonsense. Every child thinks they'll never grow up, but we all do, eventually."
"You should listen to Doctor Lupin, Harry," said Hermione approvingly. Appearances could be quite deceiving, but Lupin was the first of her teachers who acted as a teacher truly ought, the very embodiment of a doctor. With knowledge that her precious Harry would be under the supervision of an actual adult, Hermione was able to board The Hogwarts Express free of worries. She passed Draco, Ginny, and Justin in the corridor, exchanged hellos, and finally found the compartment she was looking for.
"Your grades," Hermione demanded, her hand out expectantly. "Don't think you can hide them from me!"
Ron and Dastardly Neville handed her their report cards. Ron had two P's in Astronomy and History of Magic, and E's in everything else. He'd received high marks in spellwork and application, but his essays were absolutely atrocious. Neville on the other hand… His grades were… As expected. O's in History of Magic, Astronomy, and Herbology, an E in Defense Against The Dark Arts, an A in Transfiguration, P's in Charms and Potions, and a T in Compulsory Flying with a 7%. Full marks in essays, mostly T's in spellwork and application.
"I beat you in Flying, Muggle," said Hermione proudly. "I got 14%!" For the first time, she'd not finished bottom of the class in physical education! At long last, she was one of the popular athletic students, and not at all a gawky dweeb like Neville.
"I couldn't have passed without your help strengthening my magical core," said Alright-I-Suppose Neville. "Thank you."
Hermione blushed. "And Ronald. You've improved, but you mustn't settle for E's! I expect you to work on your essay writing with Perc-" No, she'd rather not have her Golden Ronald spend any amount of time with such a pompous prat. "The Twins. Yes, you can help each other! They're really quite brilliant when they properly apply themselves, and they'll have to learn how to write patents eventually!"
"Can't," said Ron smugly. "The Twins are going to spend their summer at some muggle camp in America. They're studying how to drive trains I think. Weird right? Anyway, it's called The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, maybe you've heard of it? They said they were really impressed by their work on The Study Wheez Sheet."
Huh?
What?
"MIT?" Hermione asked, standing suddenly. "They get to study at MIT? The Twins?" The lights flickered in an unbecoming burst of accidental magic. She tried to smile, although her voice came out strangled. "How wonderful for them, that MIT has so lowered their standards! Quite the opportunity!"
Hermione stalked back and forth across the compartment. Why hadn't she been invited to MIT, huh? What a surprising oversight on their part. Somebody probably ought to be fired for such a blunder. Not that Hermione wished for anyone to be fired of course, but incompetence had to be punished for a system to function properly, and in what universe would MIT consider The Twins more worthy of an invitation than The Great Hermione Gra- Not that even the tiniest part of her desired to be some lowly engineer of course! In fact, she'd frankly be embarrassed to be part of the first truly scientific study of magic! She was… She was clearly meant for greater things than such trifling, small matters.
Hermione seethed, the lights continued to flicker, and for a time all that could be heard was the roaring of the engine.
"Well err… I think it's cool they get to study engineering," said Neville, breaking the silence. "There was a lot of debate on what discipline magic would fall under. Mechanical argued that it was really all energy, and therefore fell under their purview while the Computer Engineers argued that spellwork was a type of code. In the end it was decided that it would be a new branch of engineering called magical engineering, and they're bringing in Stephen Hawking and others to help guide the project. I wish I could be a part of it, all those great minds… But I suppose I shouldn't be jealous, I'm going to muggle summer school as well, to learn calculus. There were so many things in Gran's books that I couldn't understand because I didn't even know basic maths. I probably would've learned it in arithmancy, but they won't let me take it until third year."
"You're taking calculus?" Hermione asked skeptically. "You'll need a good grasp of function notation, algebra, infinity, graphs, and summations." She breathed on the window - creating a thin film of condensation - and wrote out a basic converging arithmetic series with her finger. "Find the solution. Go on then."
As Neville worked on the problem, Hermione asked Ron about his summer plans.
"I reckon I'll practice my keeping," said Ron. "Help Mum out with chores, get my summer homework done. Then I'm going to read all next year's textbooks into a recorder Quirrell gave me, so that way I don't fall behind again. Don't have much of a choice with The Twins in America, all I've got for company is Perce. Although I suppose I'll probably visit Luna, that'll be fun."
Visiting Loony! That scarlet woman, such a thorn in her side!
"It's Euler's Number," said Neville, proudly. It was. It really was!
"Oh well done!" Said Hermione joyfully, taking Neville's hands and hopping up and down in sheer delight. "You'd have been in for such a treat! You'd have loved the definition of a derivative! It is simply a thing of beauty, a true mathematical marvel! And I quite sympathize with your plight Neville, Hogwarts is ever so needlessly stubborn, refusing us our classes! What kind of school prohibits students from knowledge, just based on age? Positively preposterous!"
"Right?" Said Neville. "Muggle schools allow it. Isn't school supposed to be a place for learning? I understand that the professors are busy, but they could at least give me next year's assignments after I've finished mine? They don't even need to grade them, just provide me the prompt. What am I supposed to be doing between essays?"
Ron made a rude gagging sound, which Hermione ignored.
"I know," said Hermione. "It's absolutely maddening."
"Incompatible with their mission statement," said Neville.
"And therefore logically incoherent," said Hermione.
"School is supposed to be a place for learning," they finished together, giving each other a high-five.
"Moving on," said Hermione briskly. "I'm glad you've made productive summer plans, but I'm afraid you'll have to cancel them. The three of us will, of course, be conducting a thorough investigation of Tom Riddle's past, which we will use to determine the object and location of his horcruxes, and then hunt them down so we can destroy them as soon as the two years of non-aggression expires."
Ron and Neville exchanged a nervous glance.
"Oh?" Hermione asked, feeling just a touch irritated. "Do you think we can carry on as usual? Now that the muggles are aware of The Dark Lord, do you think he is no longer a threat? We're talking about the fate of the world, the lives of billions, we must be proactive. Or do you think the danger too great? Let it be somebody else's problem…"
"Yeah," said Ron, nodding. "Blimey, I reckon you're right Hermione. The world isn't safe until he's gone."
"I'm glad you see sense," said Hermione smugly. The public, billions of muggles, were of course aware of Riddle's horcruxes, the properties they would emit to the environment. But they were merely magicless dunces, only Hermione could possibly be brillian-
"What's the point?" Asked Neville. "Even if you manage to destroy most of them… The last one…" He glanced at Ron. "Parseltongue… Will you really do it?"
Hermione twitched. "I… It just…" She folded her arms and huffed. "It sounded like a fun adventure was all. A grand way to spend the summer… But if you really think it would be so dreadful to spend the time with m-"
"Even if we're not on some dangerous adventure to save the world," said Neville. "We can still visit each other. We can still be friends."
"Oh, err…" Said Hermione, blushing and finding herself smiling. "I suppose I might have gotten a little carried away. Thanks Nev."
Their conversation continued until they finally arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Strangely, a line of students had formed in the corridor.
"What's this about?" Asked Justin impatiently. "Unacceptable. A Finch-Fletcherly does not wait in traff-"
"And there's Anthony Rickett," came a loud voice. Hermione and her friends made their way to the carriage's entrance to find the source of the commotion. A group of thousands of muggles had swarmed Anthony, taking pictures, asking for autographs, eager to show their love to their very own witches and wizards for the first time. The man with the megaphone said, "A graduating Hufflepuff beater, Anthony's signed on with The Chudley Cannons-"
"Go Cannons!" Bellowed Ron and Ginny - holding up C's with their fingers - along with the crowd of exuberant muggles.
"He's a good signing," said Ron.
"Great defender when we played him," said Ginny excitedly. "A good, disciplined, winning player. Never got out of position even once."
Hermione and Nev made gagging sounds.
"Exactly," said Ron, ignoring them. "Unlike that wanker Jenkins who only plays for himself and puts up empty stats."
"I think management is finally getting their heads out of their arses," said Ginny.
"Not worth a first rounder," Draco grumbled. "You're only saying that because you saw him play - Durmstrang's got a better program - the best players are all international. If you've heard of who your team is signing, it means their scouting department is rubbish. Besides, you should never select a beater that high, it's practically malpractice."
"We'll see," said Ron, as Anthony was surrounded by muggles. "I still don't get what all the commotion is all about. It's not like he's The Minister of Magic."
"Hermione and Harry I could understand," said Nev, agreeing with Ron. "But why do the muggles care about Anthony Rickett? He's not done anything for them. He's nothing special."
"Nothing special?" Hermione asked. "He's a wizard!"
"So?" Asked Ron.
"So?" Asked Hermione. "Do you have any idea of how rare that is? There's only a few thousand in the entire country!"
"So?" Asked Nev. "He still hasn't really done anything."
"You two," said Hermione. "Are entirely too mopey. Acting like just because you're rather poor at magic compared to me, you've some reason to feel sorry for yourself. But if you grew up muggle, you'd see that you were brilliant. You've magic! You ought to be grateful! You're among the most privileged in the entire world. You just can't see it, because you've been living in a bubble. Well I've popped it, and soon you'll experience splendor beyond imagination."
One by one the students left the trolley to the cheers and adoration of the crowd of muggles. There were about 280 students at Hogwarts. Only 280 young witches and wizards to follow, that was fewer than the number of players in The Premier League. And if the public adored men for being able to kick a ball, their reaction to those with literal magic ought not have been a surprise at all. Breaking The Statute of Secrecy had had the inevitable result of making each and every student incredibly famous.
"Let me show you how it's done," said Justin, straightening his cloak. "Being a Finch-Fletcherly, I've been famous all my life."
He stepped out of the carriage smugly.
"And it's Justin Finch Fletcherly!" Belted the man with the megaphone. And the crowd erupted, cheering louder than they had for all the other students combined. "The boy behind the world famous Granger and Weasley Corporation…" The man continued, but contrary to what Justin had stated, he seemed to enjoy the fame. Smiling for the camera, signing everything within sight.
"Muggles, such a commotion, such nonsense… Although I suppose they can hardly be blamed for worshiping us, we must seem quite awe-inspiring to them," said Draco, running a hand through his platinum blonde slicked back hair. He seemed to be trying very hard to be irritated and utterly failing. He took a step outside the compartment. "Fame is such a burden. But I suppose it is my duty to bear it."
"LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE HEROIC DRACO MALFOY," bellowed the man with the megaphone. "DIFFERENT FROM HIS FAMILY. A VISIONARY, WHO SAW BEYOND WHAT HE WAS TAUGHT AS A CHILD! A TRUE BEACON OF HEROISM. TWO TIME SAVIOR OF GINNY WEASLEY. SAVIOR OF RON WEASLEY, HARRY POTTER, HERMIONE GRANGER, AND INDEED OUR VERY WORLD!"
Draco beamed, posing for each and every camera.
"DRACO, DRACO, DRACO!" Chanted the crowd of muggles.
Draco stood in the center, not moving a hair, just closing his eyes and smiling.
"DRACO! DRACO! DRACO!"
Finally Lucius Malfoy, his father, ran to the center of the crowd.
"And that's Lucius Malfoy everybody," bellowed the man with the megaphone. "Once a large supporter of Tom Riddle, he has recently seen the light and bravely become an advocate for peace among all races!
"Lucius! Lucius! Lucius!" Bellowed the crowd. Perhaps a little less joyous than with Draco, but still quite loud.
Lucius seemed to be trying to sneer, but seemed unable to help himself under the pressure of muggle adoration and worship. He stroked his long hair, posed for the cameras, and raised Draco's hand.
"MALFOY! MALFOY! MALFOY!"
"Let me at 'em," said Ginny enthusiastically, but Nev held her back.
"Let them feel this moment," he said.
"If that's how they treat Malfoy, they'll lose their shite for me," said Ginny confidently.
"It's important," Nev insisted. Indeed Lucius's scowl was slowly replaced by a smug, self-satisfied smirk. Why resort to force, when kindness would do? After about an hour, after the Malfoy's had had their fill of glory, it was Ginny's turn at last.
"Let's hear it for Ginny Weasley," said the man with a megaphone. The crowd cheered, Ginny spun with a happy smile, waving her arms up and down for them to get even louder. "The Champion of The Winter Dueling Tournament! Perhaps the finest seeker in all of Hogwarts! And with eight O's, the first-year with the highest GPA!"
"Flying doesn't count!" Hermione protested, trying to correct the egregious mistake, but being held back by a supple pair of hands. "Absolute rubbish!"
"Good luck Nev, see ya soon mate," said Ron. "Hermione, can I talk with you before you leave for the summer?"
He pulled her into a compartment, refusing to look at her. Hermione fixed her hair as she heard a loud cheer for Neville.
"Yes Ron," said Hermione. "What is it?"
Ron licked his lips, but still wouldn't look at her. Murmuring darkly to himself, he seemed deeply conflicted. And while he was as handsome as ever, Hermione could tell that there was something very, very wrong.
Something of the utmost concern.
Something that had to be addressed absolutely immediately.
It quite simply could not wait even a moment longer.
"Ronald," said Hermione. "You've got to be more careful! You can't go out looking like that! You've got a smudge of dirt next to your nose."
"Here?" Asked Ronald. He had gotten it, and now looked well… Even with the blush he was…
Absolutely perfect.
"No, no," Hermione said, looking into his beautiful blue eyes, her heart absolutely racing at what she was about to do. "Here let me get it for you."
She ran her finger along his gorgeous cheek, leaned in, and Ron gave her a kiss.
Author's Note: That's all folks! Thanks for reading The Granger Crush! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
