Author's Note:
So, 22 hours ago, I tried to post this and FFNet was borking up real bad. I kept trying for 3-4 hours before I gave up. Let's see whether this one works.
'-
19 Countermoves
Tom meets the Wizarding Society for Better Governance. Hermione catches up with some news she was missing at lunch. Tom pulls her to the planning table.
'-
When Tom stepped into the common room of the Slytherin dungeon, he found three sixth and seventh year Slytherin prefects, waiting. With them were two others, a sixth and a seventh years that liaised with him quite regularly.
One of the winged-back chairs was empty and he figured that they had reserved it for him. Tom took the implicit invitation. His mood had been good after the pleasant dinner he had with Hermione, so he was unaffected by this small ambush. He recognised the group to be the Wizarding Society for Better Governance, better known by their colloquial nickname the Policy Swots.
"Gentlemen, Lady." He nodded at them and at Emma Eccleston, the single witch among the five.
"Tom," Orpington, the seventh-year prefect, began after he sat down. "We want to know what you plan to do."
He raised an eyebrow. "What I plan to do?"
They exchanged glances with each other, with the slightest gestures of the head or a twitching hand. Their hesitation was almost palpable in the air while he calmly waited for them to come to some sort of consensus. Once more, it was the staid Orpington who spoke up again.
"For the future, Tom. Spencer-Moon's not a bad sort at all when you're holding everything together in the middle of a war. He gets people to work together. He could even pull resources from the muggles, which might be because he has a good relationship with the Prime Minister."
The wizards, Tom noticed, did not really like to think about the Prime Minister of UK much. It meant admitting that in the end, their society exists at the behest of muggles. Many wizards and witches didn't even know that the Minister for Magic was not the highest authority in the land and that there was yet another that he or she has to answer to.
For Oswin to bring it up in the first place spoke of something urgent.
"But all these reform ideas, Tom. It's just…it's not going to take. He's not even trying to canvass support from all the ranks." Emma said, not quite believing what she was saying either.
"And no one likes how he's ignoring the muggle issues that Grindelwald brought up." Mordred Montmorency, the sixth-year prefect, spoke up. He didn't have to raise his voice to be heard.
Mordred was slim, blond and the farthest thing from a fidgety person. Someone who can easily stand at the corner of the room and be forgotten in no time. Yet he was more akin to a good hunting dog, and not the ones who ran in mobs to flush out foxes either. He was the one that can wait beside you. All that quietness belied his ability to swiftly act in one burst of energy, to go in for the kill.
"Muggle issues?" Tom asked.
"Grindelwald issues." Mordred clarified. "Most people want greater separation from the two worlds right now, because it's clearly not safe, is it? And the Minister doesn't seem to get that."
Tom shook his head. "The Aurors need to be more decisive when they act, especially when under attack."
Oswin was unusually restless. He didn't even bother to sit down, settling for sitting on the arm of Montmorency's chair. "It's dangerous Tom. We're not prepared for this, not yet. My father told me of a demonstration of muggle weaponry in St. Mungo's today and I insisted on being allowed to get a copy of my uncle's memories since he was there."
His breath was sharp, harsh. "I saw the autopsy results on the pig carcasses, though I was going more with the highlights of what my uncle told my father. They tested with shield spells and their bullet went through every single one of them. In my uncle's memories, I saw the young woman who fired the gun too. She was so quick and cold. It was as if she was only calculating her bill for lunch and how she'd have to split it with her friends."
"A natural killer," one of the other sixth year murmured.
It amused Tom to see as fear spread in the little group the way a winter chill had just snuck into the room. Their incomprehension was pathetic, because he did not doubt for a moment that Hermione's efficiency in killing anything would be glorious. But he knew this was but the first challenge that Hermione would face in the wizarding world—that they would fear her for the same reason she had confounded him.
She was simply beyond any mundane categories.
On the other hand, he knew that he needed to redirect them from focusing on their fears. When he spoke next, the cadence of his voice was easy to listen to.
"This morning, as the news break over Hogwarts, Hermione Curie offered her assistance to Madam Edelstein. This is because she has an unusual knowledge of the effects of muggle weapons on the human body. For those of you not aware of it, I'll add that she has gone through a war. Norway, after all, is still under forces affiliated with Grindelwald. It is perhaps also the reason of her hospitalisation the same day she arrived at Hogwarts," Tom said. He could see them leaning closer, curious about Hogwarts' newest transfer student despite their uncertainty or whatever it was that they've heard of her based on the rumours.
"Discussions with Madam Edelstein confirmed the depth of Miss Curie's medical knowledge—at least in this particular field. The Nurse's efforts to check with her colleagues who worked at St. Mungo's gave her a mostly dissatisfying answer. Most of them had no idea of the harm. Thus, with the support of a healer and senior nurse who understood the importance of what they're saying—one of which I'm sure was your uncle, Oswin—the four of them set off to St. Mungo's to spread the information."
Tom leaned back slightly, watching the group collect their thoughts. People think at different speeds. The trick is to find the point where at least two-thirds of your audience reaches understanding and step in at that point. If you wait until everyone does, someone would've already spoken up in dissent.
And dissent is not something you'd want to allow right now.
"Not that it's not nice to know some improvements are happening," Fortunately, Mordred provided the interference all on his own, without Tom having to speak up. "But what has that got to do with, well, everything?"
"The senior nurse (the name escapes me right now) and Oswin's uncle here informed the healers and nurses. The junior healers and trainee nurses is left in the hands of Madam Edelstein and Miss Curie. As it happens, they don't immediately believe in the dangers of what Miss Curie was describing, not even when Madam Edelstein started adding her opinion." Tom paused, letting the dissatisfaction build.
"That's ridiculous," a rather heavy-set seventh-year muttered.
"See if they'd like it if they got shot." That was…Horrocks, was it? What he did knew about the wizard was that one of his family member was a casualty in St. Mungo's.
"I know," Tom nodded with a look of understanding. "They're still new, yes? Fresh out of school, they haven't seen enough bodies yet. What they need is something to shock them out of their doubt."
"What happens next, then?" He paused.
"Well, what happens next is that Miss Curie volunteers to give them precisely that demonstration that is needed. As I've said before Gentlemen, Lady, she has lived through war. Desperate times require desperate measures. One of the results of these is that under emergency, she's quite capable of operating the muggles' exploding sticks. The purpose, I believe, is to kill them with their own weapons if push comes to shove." His last sentence tripped surprise and disbelief in equal measure as colours rise and expressions change. He continued before anyone spoke up.
"The senior nurse that had supported them saw what she was doing with a transfigured pig carcass. She brought real pig carcasses so the evidence would last and ask her to shoot them. Then, there's all the tests you've heard about with the shield charm and whatnot. The senior nurse's name is…hmm, I had it at the top of my head—"
He made a show of snapping his fingers and acting surprised when he'd remembered her name all the way from the beginning.
"Ah, Esmeralda Álava! The so-called Grand Duenna of nursing on the wizarding side of the Crimean War. Which, I'm sure you'd know, Orpington, as your Minister ancestor was brought down precisely for interfering in that muggle war." He ignored the way Oswin coloured. "Considering all she'd done in establishing the nursing profession from the foundation up during that time, I'm sure you're very familiar with her name too."
"Very familiar," Oswin murmured.
"Sometimes, people just don't believe you unless you personally provide them with…examples," Tom said, meeting the gaze of each and every one of them. None of them were going to mention Hermione negatively in relation to the shot pig carcasses again. He moved on to the next topic.
"Now that that's settled, I'm sure we can return to our conversation about Minister Spencer-Moon. If his reforms are not going to take anyway, is it something that we need to be concerned about? Most of what anyone needs to do is to stall until the next Minister is chosen."
"But people also want to see some sort of progress happen, otherwise it will increase their degree of discontent. They'll distrust the government as an institution more, and that's actually bad for anyone that wishes to be Minister for Magic." Eccleston spoke up. Tom was not quite aware what department and division her mother was stationed at, but she was frighteningly well-informed on Ministry politics.
"So, we're looking into something that can tide over. It doesn't matter if it's small as long as it can get past the Minister and the Wizengamot."
The heavy-set seventh year scoffed. "Might as well ask for snow right now, Eccleston. It's probably just as easy."
"We also need to push it from the public side," Eccleston added, ignoring her year mate's complaint. With her hair in a single braid and her glasses firmly on the bridge of her nose, she looked every inch the schoolmistress. "Barely anyone has political capital to spare if they think an election is in the offing. But anyone would support an act brought by the public if they think it serves their interests too. That's why many people were passing information to Oswin and I's parents as they know it would get to us."
"A petition," Oswin sounded out the word.
"A draft for an act, brought forward by a petition and public opinion," Montmorency refined it out loud.
Well, he had been planning on gathering the rising swell of public's animosity towards muggles. It could be easily used in a fight against both the meddling, incompetent government and Grindelwald's forces with his muggle pawns. To fight the latter, it was so convenient that they couldn't hesitate to use violence—and what better violence, what better power than what he can gather from the darkest arts?
He will start as an outlaw of the people, one Robin Hood. As he struck these enemies down, people will bow to him in reverence even as the hems of his robes were soaked in blood. It didn't matter as long as it was the blood of the 'wrong' people. As long as he proved that his power brought them security, they will thank him.
It would be so easy to take the power he wanted that way.
Yet Hermione's warnings about what happened at the end of his most obvious path stayed with him. She did say that it was an effect of his continued efforts to delve too deep into the dark arts. Now, he was forced to be more circumspect in his methods. More caution was warranted unless he was prepared to be mad. At the very least, this way, he wouldn't turn away the moderates from his growing faction.
It was shaping up to be not such a bad idea, after all.
"Well," Tom said, "I'm sure we can come up with something. Montmorency, you first. Tell me what you have…"
He didn't miss the relieved expression in Montmorency's face. It was easily mirrored in Orpington's and a variation of it exists even on the more stoic Eccleston. They hadn't been so sure of his interest in what they wanted to do either. It was as if they were afraid Tom might not even be interested in aiming for the Minister's seat, preferring to take a more forceful route…
Tom almost wanted to grin and congratulate them for not being exactly blind to his previous impatience, along with the increasingly dark edge to his aura and magic.
Not that it was relevant. There's a high probability that it wouldn't be his path now.
Well, why not just see where this one will lead to, instead?
'-
The day after Hermione had gone to St. Mungo's, she found Tom somewhere after their classes. It was closely approaching lunchtime.
She had chosen to attend classes whose schedules didn't match his for today and as such they had not been together. Fortunately, she did have the idea to follow his actions on the day of the summer picnic; she located him using sympathetic association. Her object of focus was his extensive scroll detailing the scope of her classes. This was why she was at some midpoint between the potions class and the Great Hall with her wand held like a compass needle, a scroll in hand. Hermione furrowed her brows the moment she saw him.
"You did something, didn't you?"
The brunette could see him holding himself back from a smirk. "I did many things, Hermione. I'm afraid you'd have to be more specific."
"The news, the rumours," her hands were making weird shapes as she tried to find words for it, her brows scrunching up. "I'm suddenly Florence bloody Nightingale. Where did you even get pictures of me in front of a group of interns and novice nurses? I think I saw some students keeping copies of them. Then, there were also the ones where I was wearing a trainee uniform because Madam Álava recommended me to do so to stick out less."
She took the arm he proffered without a second thought and they walked arm-in-arm in the hallways. Hermione noticed the glances sent her way as well as the double-takes.
"Madam Edelstein had been very helpful." Tom commented.
"She…oh, of course she'd take pictures, or somehow filch them from other people." Hermione murmured. Her annoyance somehow having subsided to a manageable degree because she couldn't fault Nurse Edelstein for her fondness. It was…nice.
"You should be happy. She seems to care for you very much."
Hermione peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. "I think you're just happy because of how helpful she's being to you by proxy."
"Am I?"
"What are you currently working on, Tom?"
"A little bit of this and a little bit of that." He answered, that enigmatic smile still on his face and thus indirectly annoying her. "By the way, Professor Slughorn misses you. I can see it in the way his face fell when he saw me entering class without your company."
Hermione tilted her head to the side, trying to figure him out and coming out with nothing. She didn't repress the scepticism from her voice.
"Really. It's only been what, two days since I've last seen him?"
"He does so love to keep up with his students." Tom remarked.
"And nothing of much significance has happened." Hermione said.
"That would be in the eyes of the beholder, wouldn't it?"
She could see his eyes crinkling at the corners, even if his mouth barely changed from their evenly neutral position. He was smiling and it was a genuine one. Alright, she had to admit that it pleased her more than seeing his good student façade, but the curiosity was driving her spare. She just could not, for the life of her, figure out why. She did notice that the last time she passed him in corridors with Eugenie before her first class this morning, Tom's entourage had an additional pair of Slytherin seventh-years attached.
"I think there's something you're not telling me." She drew the words out slowly, carefully.
"Technically, it's nothing you didn't tell me." He parried.
Hermione felt like pinching the bridge of her nose. It might have been the physical work required of Care of Magical Creatures, but she didn't feel like she was at her best to keep up enough with Tom's silver tongue.
"This is all going to end up being convenient to you somehow. I know it. I just can't figure out the how yet." The sudden boost to her reputation was not a bad thing. There were less students staring at her suspiciously or with fear. The ones staring at her as if they weren't sure they saw her was a bit on the odd side.
"You have a suspicious mind, Hermione." If he meant to sound disapproving, his eyes shouldn't have gleamed. Hermione snorted.
"No, I'm just less subtle than you."
"On that note, have you seen this morning's Prophet?" There was that restrained humour in his voice.
"I was preparing for Advanced Care for Magical Creatures, so no. Why?"
It was a class on the care and handling of Hippogriffs, and Professor Kettleburn was far stricter on checking the level of student's knowledge and preparedness before even beginning to allow access to the creatures. It was completely appropriate for an advanced class. It wasn't surprising that not many students took it. On the other hand, it caused her to muse whether Hagrid was inspired by Professor Kettleburn's class but was underestimating the dangers when he made his own curriculum—for one, not everyone had the instinctive understanding for the mind of other species like he did.
"Ah, well. You'll have something to look forward to now." Tom said.
Hermione couldn't help sending him suspicious looks, but she had a feeling it was only feeding his secret enjoyment.
'-
"And here's our heroine of the day!"
Lakshmi said this when she saw Hermione arriving. Lucretia also happened to be there today and smiling. Eugenie wasn't present, but Hermione didn't blame her for still needing to coordinate things with other French wizards and witches.
"Hi Lakshmi, Lucretia." Hermione was staring at her friend in bafflement. "And what are you saying?"
Lakshmi turned to Lucretia with a large smile on her face. "Oh, this is priceless. She didn't know."
"Oh dear, I suppose that would make my congratulations to be premature, wouldn't it?" Lucretia said. Hermione could see the gazes of various people around their part of the Ravenclaw table turning in their direction, either subtly or overtly. She decided that she might as well just take a seat while she figured out the news.
"Alright, what did I miss?" The brunette asked.
"I think it would be easier if you just read this first."
Just like she did yesterday, Lakshmi passed Hermione her copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Madam Álava Finds a Diamond in the Rough?"
"The wizarding community has suffered a painful blow recently with Grindelwald's attack on the Ministry, along with his simultaneous attacks to several important residences and offices. The scale of the attacks is unprecedented, and his methods are as brutal as they are crude…"
Hermione skipped two paragraphs that covered the grounds of Grindelwald's attacks, perhaps it was there for anyone who had been living under a rock recently and hadn't heard of the news. She just wanted to know what was going on.
"But we are not without hope. A time of great trials is also the best time for us all to come together and show the spirit of our community. As the news break in the morning, recent victim of Grindelwald attack, one Miss Hermione Curie, rose to the challenge. Her recent transfer to Hogwarts was due to her recently losing her parents in Norway, dead to the depredations of Grindelwald-affiliated forces there. In the wake of the Ministry Massacre, Miss Curie was determined that her painful knowledge on wounds made from muggle weapons will need to be spread far and wide to save lives.
On that same morning, she made her way to St. Mungo's accompanied with Madam Edelstein, the Head Nurse at Hogwarts' Infirmary. Supporting her is the Grand Duenna of Nursing, Esmeralda Álava and Healer Orpington. Madam Álava had checked the knowledge of the healers on the ground of the disaster and had declared that most of them 'were a crock of shite'—"
Hermione couldn't help her burst of laughter, thankful that she hadn't been drinking anything. Yes, it sounded exactly like what Madam Álava would say—she just didn't think the Prophet would publish it verbatim.
"Healer Orpington assures us that the current teaching standards are adequate to address the types of injuries generated. It is merely the weapons that were unfamiliar, and thus some wounds had not been expected. Madam Álava would like to say that the best healers and nurses she knew did not let 'alien weapons' stop them from assessing their wounded properly. Both agreed that Miss Curie knew what she was talking about, and she made very good points of how first aid procedures for such wounds could be improved.
Our reporter visited St. Mungo's to talk with the trainee healers and novice nurses that had been pulled into Miss Curie's impromptu class. 'She's pretty intimidating, actually' one of the healers interviewed admitted. 'You wouldn't expect it from a petite witch like her, and one so young too, but she gets fired up about all the damages the exploding sticks could inflict. I think it's because she's gone through it herself'. Another nurse agreed that she was 'straightforward in class, cuts right to the meat of the issue.' She also said that she was 'very informative and didn't sugar-coat anything.'
Trainee healer Coombs went on the record to say that he understood her level of drive. 'it comes around when your patients have died on you. You wish to do your best not to experience that again.' But is that enough to move most people to teach four consecutive classes in a single day? Because that is indeed what Miss Curie had done. St. Mungo's assures us that the changes suggested by Madam Álava and Healer Orpington have been implemented—"
Hermione skipped the paragraph going on about St. Mungo's bureaucracy quickly dancing to the tune of public scrutiny. Her brows were furrowed as she wasn't quite clear why there were many mentions of her at the beginning. Sure, she taught four sessions, but she taught one class out of the three that was there, and that was the novice one. Nurse Edelstein taught it with her and there was no mention of that! She skimmed most of the rest and just went with the one at the end.
"Other healers have reluctantly admitted that Miss Curie indeed knew something, as her last tour of St. Mungo's beside Madam Álava has the senior nurse standing aside and asking her to diagnose several of the patients wounded from the Ministry fracas. After chatting with them, Hermione Curie, correctly identified their major ailments. It has to be kept in mind that she is not even a trainee healer or novice nurse. Her wealth of knowledge, it would seem, was owed by her tragic background.
It would seem that the Order of Nightingale has a new star in their horizon. We all wait with bated breath what kind of progress she can help usher in the future."
Hermione slapped the paper down. "Oh, that is just—"
"Magnificent?" Lakshmi asked with a grin on her face.
"Congratulations on your achievement, Hermione. We're all glad to have your help." Lucretia said from across the table. She was the very picture of lady.
"Thank you, Lucretia. It's just…Madam Edelstein wasn't even mentioned much! And she was there, supporting me all the way." Hermione tried to stop herself from gritting her teeth. "This is bollocks."
Lucretia coughed and the brunette sheepishly looked up. "Pardon my language."
"Well, it's spun to be your story, so I'm not surprised that she wasn't in there." Lakshmi said.
"What's the Order of Nightingale, anyway?"
"It's an order of nurses, mainly, though many frontline healers are also accorded the honour of also being inducted into the order." Lucretia explained.
"You're probably one of the few non-nurse and non-healer to have gotten in."
Hermione blinked uncertainly. "I'm in?"
It was Lakshmi's turn to curse and get a throat-clearing reminder from Lucretia. "Oh, goodness, girl. Did you actually read the article? You know, the bit about the 'infinite care for the wounded' and the 'sense of responsibility to the community'? Well, there's also the more boring comment of Madam Álava's of 'she has a good head on her shoulders and she uses it'. That one doesn't even sound special at all."
It was Madam Álava's brisk assessment that brought a smile to Hermione's face, though.
"Um, so, what do I do with it? Do I have to put in hours to St. Mungo's? But my class schedule is already over-full" The brunette said.
Her two dormmates were staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. Actually, in the case of Lakshmi, she might even be less impressed by a second head. Two dark-haired witches conferred in silent looks with each other before they turned to Hermione again.
"You bask in it of course, you berk. You're still in Hogwarts. They can't exactly expect much out of you, can they?" The fifth-year witch answered.
"You might want to answer any healing-related questions our House mates might have?" Lucretia said.
Lakshmi reacted to that by saying that those idiots can certainly open a book on their own for the level of inane questions they were going to ask. Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It got stuck half way and she pulled her fingers out.
"It's just…I've read the article, alright, but I still don't understand what it all means."
"Why don't you ask Riddle?" Her friend asked from next to her. Lucretia was calmly drinking her glass of water.
"What does Tom have to do with it?"
Lakshmi snorted. "Please, darling, it's harder to find what Riddle doesn't have to do with in Hogwarts."
The dark-haired witch raised a hand with finely painted nails, waving away her look of disbelief.
"He has increasing pull outside Hogwarts too-I've seen that the Ministry Swots are sticking to him like leeches recently, looking so serious you might've mistaken them for the war committee. Look, I've said that Riddle has his web of influence, right? Then let me tell you, there's not a lot of people that can pull off a slanted piece like this on the Prophet—as far as I know, most of them don't know you yet and I know Lucretia didn't do it."
Her amber gaze was sharp and bright, and Hermione was once more aware that for all of Lakshmi Chakravarty's comments that she was a recent transplant to England, she still came from an old family ("the Chakravartys are still among the Four-Fold Families in the Indian Empire, dear"). She was used to their political games.
"I wasn't even aware of what you were doing yesterday," Lucretia admitted.
"Oh."
"Yes. Lakshmi told me about you going to St. Mungo's, but I thought it was for a check-up until I read today's news. We've never really been prepared against muggle weapons, do we? And we pay for that lack of knowledge in the most painful ways. If we can help with that, no matter how small, I believe it would make a difference."
Across the table, the Black witch was thoughtful. Her dark eyes found Hermione's easily.
"If I had known, I wouldn't mind helping you with such an article, though of course it might have a slightly different approach—subtler, certainly, and with related news spread out over several days. Different styles, I suppose."
Hermione could find no words to say. She'd known that her friends were from well-known families (and Lucretia was the closest thing to a lady in the wizarding world), but she didn't know the extent of their influence.
The old families, it would seem, play the game at a different level than she was used to.
'-
Hermione might not know exactly how the web of patronage and alliances occurred in Hogwarts right now, she was quite aware that Tom was at the centre of several.
She had merely thought of passing the Slytherin table and telling him that she was going ahead first to Advanced Arithmancy if he was still occupied. Tom noticed the moment she was walking towards him. She saw him sitting with two seventh-year Slytherin prefects across him, with a rather bored-looking forefather of Draco Malfoy and a watchful Slytherin with dark hair that nonetheless seemed familiar sitting to Tom's either side.
"Hermione, how good of you to join us," Tom greeted.
Her eyebrows rose. That meant he had something to show her. She was curious enough to wish to see what it was rather than just snubbing him.
Melchior Nott (she had just recalled his name as she'd seen him in one of her classes), moved farther to the left, creating a space between him and Tom. Hermione didn't think much about sitting right there.
"I was about to leave for Advanced Arithmancy class, actually, but I can stay for a while."
Hermione could see the people around him observing her curiously. "Let's start with the introductions, then. Everyone, this is Hermione Curie. She has recently been transferred into Hogwarts as a fifth year and Sorted into Ravenclaw. Hermione, the one to your left is Melchior Nott,"
Nott nodded to her and she nodded back. He gestured to the wizard next to him, who had to lean forward to see her.
"This is Abraxas Malfoy—"
She gave him a slightly weird smile because for all his stronger jawline and bones, the expressiveness of his face was pure Draco. It was odd seeing someone so familiar and also not at the same time.
"—and the two seventh-year prefects in front of you are Oswin Orpington and Emma Eccleston."
A calm, brown-haired wizard and a witch with glasses and ruler-straight posture nodded to her, looking for all the world like a clerk and a librarian. Some more basics small talk beyond the initial introduction were dealt with. Both Slytherin fifth-years took Advanced Potions with Tom, which would explain their highly curious glances and Hermione's rising embarrassment as she tried to forget Slughorn's exuberance on Monday. Nott did say that he was in Advanced Charms, while Malfoy was in Advanced Transfigurations. Both were also in Advanced DADA, so she supposed she'll see them there.
Oswin Orpington confirmed why his name had seemed familiar; his uncle was a healer in St. Mungo's. Hermione's eyes widened with recognition and she said she thought she could see the similarities in their eyes.
When that was done, Tom launched into an explanation of how comments had been flooding into the Wizarding Wireless about the sense of insecurity the public was feeling after Grindelwald's attacks. They wanted the government to do something. Alas, the government was not as nimble or prepared, and disgruntlement was rising.
"Orpington and Eccleston may have a few ideas on that." Tom said.
"Actually, it's not as if there was nothing. There'd been talks about the development of a stronger notice-me-not ward to distract muggles." Orpington said.
"But it's not going to work on Imperius'd muggles," Hermione said.
"Well, fortunately, most people are not aware of that," Emma Eccleston's diction was precise, her tone cool. Many people mistake it for distaste, though Hermione had heard echoes of her own speaking style that she didn't.
"So, is this an effort to find a real solution, or are we just going through some political theatre here?" Hermione asked. She could see Nott's eyes widening at her blunt question, but Emma seemed to appreciate her direct tack.
"Preferably a real solution; it's why we're here in the first place, after all. Yet before that happens, anything that can distract the public and stop them from panicking would still be useful." The seventh-year answered.
"Hence why the stronger notice-me-not charm is still useful to announce."
Emma nodded. "Precisely."
"Well, people would like to see more Aurors around, but the Aurors do have real jobs to do instead of just hanging around to appease the frightened public," Oswin muttered as his gaze returned to his parchment. Hermione saw then that the plates of food had been mostly taken away from their area—almost everyone around Tom had their own set of parchments or scrolls.
Hermione's eyes drifted towards the ceiling. The non-magical world was in the middle of WWII right now, albeit already past the worst of it (The Battle of Britain was over and decisively won by the Brits). The sense of impending danger that they were feeling were probably even more than what the wizarding world felt, but they still managed. On the other hand, as her grandparents had proudly told her, the Londoners had been well-trained about what to do if they hear the air-raid siren sounding. They knew where the nearest shelters are as well, knew what to do with there were no shelters nearby and well, life goes on…
"Make some drills," Hermione spoke up.
"I'm sorry?" Melchior asked. She turned to him.
"Civilian drills. You know, what to do in case of emergency, where to go and who to find? Get the Aurors to do their own field test with the muggle weapons they have, figure out what can get through it and can't."
"No one can use those things," Oswin suddenly interrupted, before he blushed.
"Well, I hear that Minister Spencer-Moon had a good relationship with the Prime Minister, right?"
She waited and got several reluctant nods around the table; Tom's was more matter-of-fact than anything else.
"Then I'm sure he wouldn't have any problem asking to get some of his men trained in muggle weapons." Hermione said, conveniently not commenting on the expressions of discomfort that passed on the face of more than one person. Fact of the matter was, they were trounced by muggle weapons and they needed to deal with it. Well, they wanted a solution, right? She didn't guarantee it wasn't going to hurt their pride and feelings.
"Though if you want an overview of what can stop the average bullets, well walls do. Always keeping at least one wall between yourself and someone with muggle weaponry is a good idea, though not getting spotted in the first place is even better. A cheap plaster wall is as useless as a shirt, though. Once the Aurors can determine the best strategy for surviving attackers with muggle weapons for civilians, they can then turn that into a drill. After that, you start gathering people. Practice it."
She snapped her fingers. "Oh! I remember that a thick layer of water also robs bullets of its kinetic energy, so hiding inside a pond with a bubblehead charm is actually a good place to hide—unless you're facing the highly improbable enemy of someone with a stock of waterproof explosives."
Hermione could see the morbid curiosity in Nott's grey eyes.
"What happens then?"
"You get flattened by the explosion's energy carried by the water. You see, where air dissipates the energy of an explosion easily, water, with all its mass, transfers the energy easily. It can crush you. I mean, have you seen what the water pressure at 100 kilometres under the sea is like? Human bones become sponge." Hermione explained with excitement. That was when she realised what she was doing and shook her head.
"Oh, I'm rambling again. Tom! You're supposed to stop me when I'm rambling."
She casually elbowed him. He chuckled. Now everyone was staring at Tom as if the two of them had started a Punch and Judy skit of bashing each other over the head. The seventh-years were almost frozen mid-movement (Oswin looked terrified), Nott had just choked on his food—and was Abraxas gaping?
"You were being informative, Hermione. I thought it would be most useful for them to listen to what you have to say." Tom said.
Tom casually tapped Malfoy's chin and the other Slytherin almost jumped out of his seat as he hurriedly closed it.
"Alright. To get back on topic, a drill is also useful because once you've started drilling some basic movements, it becomes an ingrained reflex in the advent of an emergency. Panic doesn't have time to set in and you'd save more people that way when they already know what to do instead of, oh, I don't know, stampeding to the only exit and blocking it because of that."
Oswin was making notes and it was rather gratifying to see. Emma seemed to have questions from the way she was frowning. She just seemed to be unable to find a way to word it the way she wanted yet, so she still kept quiet.
"It's useful. We can certainly add it to the list of useful programs in response to the attacks that the government can do," Emma finally said.
"Which is currently set at zero," Oswin murmured under his breath. Emma was still focused.
"But we still need at least one that's slightly higher-profile. We need something that can be a beacon of hope."
Hermione's brows creased.
"What are we planning for, again?"
"Something to rally the people behind a purpose, Hermione," Tom clarified.
She glanced at him from the side without hiding her curiosity. "Why do I feel like your most preferred action is a direct strike at Grindelwald's sympathisers?"
This time, it was Melchior and Abraxas whose movements faltered for a moment before they resumed. She wasn't blind—she was quite aware that they were the core around which the later Death Eaters would form. They were young men already dreaming of glory, and they intend to seize it with their own bare hands. Their imagined path was almost operatic in its grandeur and simplicity.
The Knights of Walpurgis, she managed to recall from the depths of her memory, that was what they'd been called, right?
"Well, that would not be without its risks, would it?" He said, eyeing her in return.
"But it is admittedly the most public-relations friendly. Everyone can grasp what it means when they hear it," Hermione said, playing devil's advocate to herself. She sighed.
"But you're right. I don't like the risks—" like the obliteration of Tom Riddle into the Dark Lord Voldemort, she thought to herself, "—I suppose I'll try to think up of alternatives."
Hermione's gaze had begun to wander to the rest of the Great Hall.
"Would you still be taking your time, Tom? Because I think I'd rather not risk being late and just go to Arithmancy class right now."
"Actually, I think I'd be leaving with you too. Well, that's it ladies and gentlemen. We'll continue this later." Tom said.
Hermione was surprised that all he'd had to do was stand—she didn't think she saw him tidying up his belongings at all. Farewells were exchanged as well as some final small talk (apparently, they were the only ones taking Advanced Arithmancy—Eccleston did, but she was in seventh year that the class she was taking was Advanced Arithmancy II as she'd taken the other class last year).
Tom barely needed to lift his hand far before she took it, the movement coming easier to her as she spent more days in the past as he slipped her arm in his once more.
'-
"You had something else to say," Tom said, apropos of nothing.
He was taking her through the smaller corridors, the back ways and old servant ways once more and she didn't mind. It was always more convenient for their talks of questionable topics if no one else were to overhear them. It was just so easy to be misunderstood.
"It's something that's probably controversial, that was why I was holding back." She said.
"Alright. Go ahead, then."
"I was wondering of joining the efforts of the muggle war," Hermione mused out loud. Tom's reply was perfectly amiable, as if she was just considering a new restaurant they might like to visit.
"You're right, that won't be popular at all."
"But we won't even be starting it—it's already underway, for one. Grindelwald brought the muggle war in into our world, muggle weaponry and all. Why can't we fight back his and his catspaw? Because if there's one thing that would guarantee a sharp reduction in his forces is if Nazi Germany falls. There'd be no one to supply him soldiers to be Imperius'd."
"Don't you think your native antipathies are colouring your perspective?"
Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Your parents, your friends and the people you know. They were in Norway, were they not? The members of the British wizarding circle of Kopervik. And yet you're here alone…"
She drew a sharp gasp of breath. Tom might've said Norway, but she interpreted it in her mind as Lost Future.
"…and it's easily Grindelwald's fault, perhaps Nazi Germany as well. Your wish for their destruction is entirely natural." He finished.
Well, her wish for Grindelwald's destruction was basically because he was an arse of a dark lord and she made it a habit of taking them down where she found them. There were no two ways about it. But she couldn't say that she had no memories of anyone from Norway to Tom. They walked in a silence that was not uncomfortable.
"If there was a way for the wizarding world to join in a way that our primary actions and purpose would always be in taking Grindelwald down instead of having to assist our muggle counterparts by providing them magical assistance, it may have a better chance of succeeding." He finally said.
Hermione sighed. Right. Like that was going to happen.
Another minute had passed before something occurred to Hermione as her brown eyes widened.
"Information! We can begin with information exchanges, Tom."
"Why information?"
"Grindelwald working with his muggle catspaw must be breaking all levels of the Statute of Secrecy, right? But no one can touch him when he's surrounded by his own magical fighters as well as muggle soldiers. If he or his wizards (or witches) gave some sort of concealment charm to groups of muggle troops, then his troops would have an advantage compared to the non-magical UK forces."
"Which is an obvious transgression against the Statute of Secrecy," Tom said quickly, picking up the direction of Hermione's thoughts.
"So, we're only putting things to rights when our Aurors find his location. It also wouldn't be completely strange if they get attached to non-magical forces to dispel the spells—because the muggles are useful to protect them against Grindelwald's muggles." Hermione spoke faster.
"We can also say that we're getting the muggles to fight Grindelwald and his muggle catspaw for us, to improve our odds facing him, and all that the Aurors sent to the field are doing is reversing all his actions to advantage his muggle army that breaks the Statute of Secrecy." Tom added. His voice was still even but she knew that like her, he was also walking faster as ideas spark one after another in his mind.
"Turnabout is fair play." Hermione said with relish.
"It's a direct action against Grindelwald and something Minister Spencer-Moon cannot argue against, given that he's been in such good company with Winston Churchill. I'm sure the Prime Minister would only be too happy to try out the idea." Tom finished.
She turned to him in surprise. "So, you do know the name of our Prime Minister."
It was clear that he was holding back from rolling his eyes. Barely. She considered it an achievement that she had chipped that layer of perfect prefect away today.
"I'm not a blind idiot, Hermione."
"Well, I might be fooled by that sometimes," she said glibly, ignoring his cool stare. "Anyway, I think I have an idea to keep the wizarding world's position to be still somewhat neutral as well. Say that we're helping enforce the Statute of Secrecy against Grindelwald's transgressions. If Grindelwald stops using muggle catspaw or allies, the wizarding world will also immediately stop assisting the muggle world. See? We have a clear limit to hold to. I'm sure everyone would love that."
Tom was nodding slowly at that. "Then it becomes a strictly wizarding war once more."
"Precisely. So, do we bring this idea to the DMLE, or the Minister, or what?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. We need to find a way to ensure we'll be listened to. Even more importantly, we need to ensure that we'll get full credit for it and enough public acknowledgement. Otherwise we'll simply be someone else's stepping stone."
Hermione sighed. "Right. Politics. I keep forgetting that."
'-
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End Notes:
The Order of the Nightingale that I made up here is clearly named after Florence Nightingale.
As I've mentioned earlier national/state boundaries in the muggle world in this time might not precisely match that of the wizarding world. Wizarding India, for example, is not a colony of the British Empire the way that muggle India is the British Raj, hence my reference to the Indian Empire. Though it has to be admitted that they do have closer ties with Britain as a result of the muggle worlds' changes and colonialization. After all, they're a very small minority in their lands when compared to the non-magical populace, so in the greater scheme of things, they would drift following the muggle world (for example, culturally). The wizarding Indian Empire is a loose federation of various Indian Wizarding Kingdoms. How those kingdoms came to be is a story for another time.
'-
List of Stuff One Might Try to Look Up:
Florence Nightingale: (History, Nursing), to quote Wikipedia, she's an English social reformer, statistician and the founder of modern nursing as a secular profession. In the popular culture of the time, she's seen as the iconic "Lady with the Lamp," as she tends to do midnight rounds around the hospice halls.
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Additional Notes: (characters are listed in the order of their last names)
"the Chakravartys are still among the Four-Fold Families in the Indian Empire, dear": The Four-Fold Families is what I imagine to be the equivalent of the Sacred 28 in the Indian Empire. The name refers to the fact that there are 64 family names on it (four times four times four). Considering that the Indian Empire spans an entire subcontinent, this should not be surprising.
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Abraxas Malfoy: Fifth-year Slytherin, an important Knight of Walpurgis. His family is part of the Sacred 28 (obviously). He shares three classes with Tom; Advanced Potions, ADADA and Advanced Transfigurations. Even though his characterisation is purely my invention, he is technically a canon character like the Blacks, as he had been mentioned by name. He would be the father of Lucius Malfoy and grandfather of Draco Malfoy. Like many others in Slytherin, he is caught up in Tom's charisma and power.
Oswin Orpington (OC): Seventh-year Slytherin prefect. As you might already know, there is an Orpington that was the Minister of Magic sometime in the 1800s (Evangeline Orpington). So, even if he wasn't from the Sacred 28, I consider his family to be rather well-established. His given name 'Oswin' came from Old English elements os "god" and wine "friend", so, god-friend (friend of god).
I take it to imply that he knows who's about to be a god (or the closest thing to it) and knows how to be friendly to them. He's the kind of person who's more comfortable backstage than in the spotlight.
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