Author's Note:

The academic test was long, meh, but a pain in the backside. Had to guess the answers 25 problems because there's no bloody clock that I can see in the room and apparently I spent too much time on some of the earlier quant problems (like hell they'd let me open my phone just to check the time). Apparently, it's been a while since I did a multiple-choice, paper-based test that my usual instincts and subroutines for it are dulled.

On a brighter note, I somehow had double the usual number of viewers in the first half of this week? And my fav to follow ratio goes over 75%? (At least 3 out of 4 people who follow this story also favourited it at this point). I have no idea what happened. It's probably my sister's work on tumblr rather than mine, but anyway, I thought I'd just share the pleasant surprise with you this week, as opposed to updating next week. Plus, I'll welcome the distraction after the pain-in-the-rear test.

'-

24 The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men I

Hermione somehow gets involved in more meetings with more people on lunch (Gryffindors and Slytherins respectively). An unexpected encounter before Ancient Runes class with a housemate and a Hufflepuff. Word games with Tom. Drafting wards in Advanced Ancient Runes. Honoria Gildenstern makes observations.

(Summary applies to both chapters titled 'The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men')

'-

Hermione had only finished her main course before Evariste enthusiastically brought the rest of the French Gryffindors over to her table.

"'ermione! Here, come and meet my friends!" Evariste.

Heads turned either in his direction or in hers. All that's lacking is two spotlights over our heads, Hermione thought dryly. Eugenie covered her face with her hands next to Hermione and let out a soft moan from the intensity of the attention.

The fact that she could see the Prewett twins looking on with grins on their faces and finger-foods at hand while they told their friends to turn towards the Ravenclaw table does not help. The tall wizard next to Evariste had an expression of distaste.

"You need to be louder, Evariste. I'm sure the Slytherin table haven't heard you yet." He was snide. It was not hard to recognise de Montmorency, as he and Evariste could not seem to stop sniping at each other.

"I am being friendly! And you would do well to greet the ladies at the table." Evariste insisted. Then, he did exactly as he'd said.

"Good afternoon Eugenie. Greetings to you too, Mademoiselle Chakravarty—still as lovely as ever, I see."

Eugenie chirped a quick reply. Lakshmi let out a low laugh that turned the heads of several wizards'.

"Oh, you flatterer. Good afternoon, Evariste."

Evariste then went on to greet Julia, a couple of Julia's friends, and the other Ravenclaws around her with unbelievable thoroughness. How he had all the excess energy to do that, she had no idea—just watching him converse with several people at once made her feel drained and wish she could spend the rest of the day in bed with a good book and a cup of tea.

Maximilien de Montmorency raised an impeccable eyebrow at Evariste's exuberance. He made do with a single sweeping glance at the Ravenclaw table and a laconic "Mesdemoiselles. Messieurs."

That was it.

He frowned. "Maximilien."

"I did as you say." De Montmorency dismissed.

Evariste complained that de Montmorency was being too uptight. De Montmorency's expression turned sour and started saying about how he was being a fool, and they were about to enter round two of their argument when another wizard had quickly come up between the two…

…with a Ravenclaw tie.

Hermione did a double-take.

Wait, he was a Ravenclaw? Oh, there was actually another French Ravenclaw, one that was neither the unsocial Verrault nor Eugenie. The Ravenclaw wizard had seen the gaggle of French Gryffindors coming from a distance and had left his own seat at the Ravenclaw table to intercept them. Verrault seemed to mostly hover in the background, ill at ease with too many people around him.

"Evariste, Maximilien, I respectfully ask both of you to keep your voice down as guests at my House table." He was perfectly polite, but his tone was firm.

His task was not as easy as it seems, as Evariste had his excuses,

"But Auguste, I'm only greeting my Ravenclaw friends!" Evariste's wide smile was brilliant, with perfect rows of pearl-white teeth and all. Hermione held back the urge to groan following Eugenie as she could hear the stammered agreement coming from more than one witch around them.

"It's fine, Auguste."

"Um, yes. Your friends can stay." Another of her housemate piped up. Some only let out wordless sighs.

Then, de Montmorency wouldn't shut up about their previous argument. With that statement, he prompted Evariste to put up his spirited defence and thus start the whole thing all over again. She spotted another Gryffindor wizard tagging along behind them who looked as if he was content with just drifting, though after a while, she realised that he was subtly goading Evariste or de Montmorency while dodging the Ravenclaw wizard's reprimands. At least before Verrault tried to restrain his fire-starting tendencies.

"Oh, for goodness' sakes…" Hermione muttered.

Eugenie let out a harrumph of annoyance, uncaring that the sound she made was the farthest thing from cute. Hermione found the disparity funnier and had to stifle a snort of laughter.

Two more Gryffindors had just trailed in after the main group—a wizard and a witch. She was almost concerned at the possible increase in ruckus.

The Gryffindor wizard noticed Hermione's look of apprehension and grinned at her.

"Oh, don't mind us. We're just here to tag along and watch."

"Really?" Hermione asked sceptically.

He nodded with mock solemnity, a long braid falling down his back. "Oh yes, really. Ever since Dippet pinned these things on us, we have to 'be respectable' and can't go off joining the nearest fracas."

He shook his lapel with an expression of regret. His partner snorted at him. That was when she noticed that both of them wore prefect pins.

"Since when did you let it stop you from jumping into fights?" The blonde witch asked sceptically. Her English was surprisingly accent free

"As a prefect, I do need to separate the people fighting, you know?" He had a rather impressive expression of innocence.

That was when they noticed there was some sort of a break in the arguing people on the other side of the table.

"We should propose our next meeting at the Gryffindor common room." Evariste was saying.

"Not all of us are actually Gryffindors. You can't just decide to invite other house members to the Gryffindor common room and expect everyone to be able to make it there." the Gryffindor witch disagreed. She turned to Hermione when she realised she hadn't introduced herself, her straight blonde hair falling to her shoulders.

"I'm Ceres Victorinus, sixth-year, and I know you're Hermione Curie."

"Ah, how do you do," she was slightly surprised at the witch's frankness.

The long-haired wizard next to her nodded. "Oh, yes. We might not all be Gryffindors. It's just that almost all the hotblooded ones from Beauxbatons end up in our House. So here we are, the troublemakers, at your service."

"Pip!" She elbowed him.

The blonde sent Hermione a long-suffering glance. "Ignore him, he's not housebroken yet."

"Hey, it's true! Even you can raise hell with the best of them, no matter how charming you are, Mignonette." He winked at Ceres. His female house mate was singularly unimpressed.

"You haven't introduced yourself, you berk." She cut in. He turned back to Hermione at the reminder.

"Ah, pardon me, I was carried away by your radiant presence. Philippe Bernadotte, at your service, Gryffindor sixth-year, not that it matters."

His bow was rough at the edges, outrageously flamboyant instead of proper. Evariste was back to audibly disagreeing with de Montmorency, with their Ravenclaw compatriot and that other guy still tied up in the argument. Verrault's suggestions or comments did not seem to make much difference either. The fact that he insisted everyone follow the rules did not help matters.

"She's not going to eat that up, Pip. She's not a fool," the blonde witch muttered with a jaded sigh.

"Oh, come on, it's a gentlemen's responsibility to inform the ladies that they're beautiful at least once a day. Have I told you that you look beautiful today, Mignonette?"

"I probably didn't hear it. I think I've stopped listening to it after we were seven and it turns out you were only after the cake I was holding." His friend pointed out, her merry smile growing at his protests and his insistence that she had always been beautiful and had only grown more beautiful with time.

Hermione was more surprised that he can say all that with a straight face. She couldn't repress her grin at their eccentricity.

"And before Bernadotte gets us all off track yet again, I would like to assure you that we are certainly not all Gryffindors, if being a Gryffindor meant recklessness to go with a directionless rage," said the handsome French Ravenclaw trying to arbitrate the argument.

He'd managed to get Evariste and de Montmorency to sit down some distance away from each other, with Verrault and the other Gryffindor sitting between them across the table from Hermione. The expressions of the Ravenclaws they'd edged out was either simple acceptance or long-suffering patience.

There were downsides to being a house of (mostly) bookworms. Ravenclaws were generally non-confrontational even if they did grumble or complain. They were certainly no match for the boisterous Gryffindors who had decided to sit there.

It seemed that the Ravenclaw wizard had been able to restore some semblance of order. He ignored some of his countrymen's complaints on his assessment of Gryffindor. He bowed formally to Hermione instead, his dark hair neatly styled. There was a discipline to his bearing that gave her the image that he'd make a very effective judge as he presided over a bickering courtroom.

"Auguste Alexis Murat, at your service."

She did her best to simulate a half-curtsy while sitting. (Thank you, Daphne).

"Hermione Curie. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh, we all know who you are, Mademoiselle," he replied knowingly.

"Yes, while we are certainly not all Gryffindors, they are definitely where most of the noise comes from. Don't mind them, Hermione," Eugenie was being surprisingly outspoken. "There are Hufflepuff ones too, and they're better at adapting to a life in Hogwarts."

"But they're not interested in fighting the fight at all, and what good is that for the future of France?" Asked Evariste rhetorically.

"Yeah, absolutely boring, those lot," Long-braid agreed, not minding Ceres's snort at him.

"It does not mean jumping in with both feet, without a plan at hand," de Montmorency reminded, fulfilling his unofficial role of resident killjoy.

"Oh please. We had a plan now. You can't accuse us of recklessness for following it," Evariste countered.

"An untried plan, undetermined in scope and manpower."

And then they were off again, talking at a rapid pace about the Society's plans (Evariste) or the downsides (de Montmorency). More than a smattering of fast-talks in French were thrown in for good measure that Hermione wasn't sure she was able to follow all of them even with what French she knew. She still had no idea who the quiet wizard was, for one, though she didn't think it would matter much.

It was, however, rather interesting to see Eugenie being obstinate for once and the others taking her stubbornness for granted and ceding to her point of stopping the damned argument until they've tried to run a plan—any plan. Perhaps it was the freedom given by her ability to occasionally use (and curse) in her mother tongue.

There were so many names to remember at once that they were slipping from her memory. Ceres was perhaps the exception as she was not difficult to remember, being the only Gryffindor witch among them.

"Does this happen every day?" Hermione asked her with a wry tone.

Ceres' reply was deadpan. "Every damn day."

"I'm impressed that you haven't tried to kill any of them yet."

The Gryffindor witch laughed at that. "What makes you think I haven't tried?"

"Ah, but she always stops herself! That's how we know that she loves all of us!" Her partner remarked from Ceres' other side, winking at Hermione.

"And how would you know, Pip?" Ceres' tone was oddly cheerful as she turned to Hermione in faux whisper. "The upside of being friends with Gryffindors is that many of them have short memories."

"I still remembered when you pushed me into a pond on my eleventh birthday!" Philippe insisted.

"Yes, but what about all the other ones?" The blonde asked innocently.

"What others?"

"Exactly."

Hermione laughed more than once at the easy way they ribbed at each other, even as the discussions (argument) between the more influential or outspoken of their group continued to rage across the table. It truly wasn't a surprise that Hermione invited them all to the next meeting of the Society.

Yes, even Verrault. Despite his own suspicions about Tom, he was definitely outvoted by his peers and he decided to come 'to keep watch on Riddle'.

To Hermione's credit, she didn't roll her eyes at that and only nodded solemnly in understanding. She didn't see a need to antagonise the budding inquisitor unnecessarily. When the barrage of questions became overwhelming, Hermione raised her hands to stall.

"Hold it! Please, if you really must know all the little details, de Montmorency was there yesterday—I'm sure he can take any questions you have and answer it. Also, I'm sure Evariste can enlighten you about our conversation this morning. Right, Evariste?"

She gave him a pointed look. To his credit, he nodded easily and confirmed it. "Why yes, we certainly had an interesting discussion."

"Thank you. Now that that's settled, can you please have this argument at your own House table and let us dine in peace?" The brunette was smiling, but the tone she said it in was not one that invited bargaining.

Eugenie took the opening Hermione created as she stood up instantly. She shared a glance with Murat, who comprehended her plan instantly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" Eugenie began, as she walked behind Hermione to tap Philippe Bernadotte and Ceres Victorinus' shoulder.

The pair of French Ravenclaws sent back their rowdier Gryffindor counterparts back not long after that (though Eugenie and Ceres parted ways affably). Then, Eugenie sat back down and invited Murat and Verrault to stay and dine with them. Murat accepted—Verrault declined.

Hermione found that at least Auguste Murat was not a bothersome company at lunch, because he was rather content to eat and let everyone enjoy their meals, only occasionally asking questions. Lakshmi found him entertaining as he seemed to be unfazed by her directness.

"Do you always use your handsome looks to be invited to the ladies' table, Monsieur?" She asked.

"Considering that you invited me, Mademoiselle, I think you can answer that best."

"So, you admit that you do," she replied with relish.

"Actually, this is the first time someone told me I'm handsome to my face, so I wouldn't really know." He replied politely, with the barest edge of something else in his smile.

This is like the Dumbledore's Army all over again, Hermione thought wryly, though she doubted the secrecy, the contract and the message galleons were necessary this time. Nobody doubted that they were at war and it seemed a good number of people hated to sit on their hands too. Well, the coordination the galleons could give would certainly be good for something. She just hadn't found a use for it yet. She shrugged inwardly. Sooner or later, it would come together.

'-

Hermione should not be surprised to spy Tom sitting with yet another group of different Slytherins at the last leg of lunch, when most were getting desserts. The people Tom was sitting with wasn't 'his' crowd, which would be the wizards who were the Knights of Walpurgis. It wasn't the Wizarding Society for Better Governance either, as she'd recognised the group of policy people headed by Oswin and Emma. It was…

Was he speaking German?

He was, she thought with surprise. She could recognise some words even if she couldn't exactly speak much of the language. It was hard not to envy his skill.

When she had unknowingly drifted in their direction, though, one of them stood up, which soon caused the others to stand up as well, Tom included. The ones still sitting were the pair of witches among them, a blonde and a brunette. The first watched Hermione with a particular gravity while the second seemed more curious than anything.

The Ravenclaw was mildly interested to note that Melchior and Abraxas also present.

"Hermione, you would not mind joining us for a moment, would you?" Tom asked.

His wording implied that he didn't think it too important, but she might still find something of interest.

"Well, if you don't mind doing the introductions, Tom?"

"Not at all…"

Oh, what the hell. I've met with the French. Might as well spend some time with the Germans as well.

Nott had discreetly shifted to the side as he had before, making space for Hermione to sit at Tom's left. Naturally, she took it.

"Now Hermione, this is Sigmund von Moritz. Moritz, this is Hermione Curie."

That was how she was introduced to their apparent leader, someone whose figure was so heroic she wouldn't be surprised to see him on stage as the protagonist of Wagner's opera, stoically killing people as honour demands. The steel-eyed, wizard had a military precision to his gesture. He took her hand and shook it with a firm grasp—the fact that she was a witch did not make him yield the pressure the slightest, and her respect for him rose a little for it.

'-

The Germans, it turned out, were a much more formidable bunch than the French. Where the French names were a varied lot, the Germans all had names with particles.

(The rest of the names passed by too quickly for Hermione's liking. Rainer von Regenstein. Gerhard von Grimmen. Rudolf von Riga zu Neustettin. Beatrix von Blankenstein. Wilhelmina von Alsing. She was just glad nobody expected her to remember all of it now.)

All the others had von in their names, and there was at least one with zu, though seeing her confusion the wizard gave a knowing smile and told her to not pay attention to it for now. They were wearing Hogwarts uniforms now, yes, but she could tell that the cut of their blazers was superior to most, matching the ones worn by the scions of the better old families (of course, curiously enough, Tom's own uniform also matched theirs in terms of quality, though subtler in appearance). The fabric of their robes also used damask or velvet—the sort of thing that commoners and burghers can't wear in the middle ages without being slapped down with sumptuary laws.

The fact that more than half of them complained about not being allowed to carry bladed weapons in Hogwarts was another clue.

They're Junkers, she thought with an odd sort of realisation. Remnants of old readings and lessons on WWII came together in her mind in a moment of insight, they're all part of the landed gentry. The same officer class that gave rise to Otto von Bismarck.

She guessed their Slytherin ties were pure silk.

Thankfully for Hermione, the Germans did not really mind speaking in English. They did clarify that they were only occasionally speaking in German, as not all of those in current company could speak the language fluently either. Neither Melchior nor Abraxas denied that.

To be more precise about Tom's current guests, the Germans were Prussians. Hermione did not immediately understand the distinction until they reached a particular point in their conversation.

"If he must have a puppet, could he not find a real German, at the very least?" One of them complained about Grindelwald.

"A real German? I thought he was German." Hermione said, mildly baffled.

"Of course not. He's Austrian."

"But he's leading Germany?" she hazarded a guess—how did he end up in that position if he was Austrian? Yet what she obtained was the blonde witch sitting near her to nod sagely in agreement.

"Precisely. That's exactly the problem, isn't it?"

"But he'd be just as much of a problem if he was leading Austria." Hermione pointed out.

"No." The blonde witch cut in. "He wouldn't have the German military to swell his ego."

"Since he's basically impotent without it." The brunette witch said this flippantly, ignoring the sudden coughs that some of her countrymen were afflicted with.

"Mina!" The other witch gave her a stern look.

Mina (Wilhelmina, Hermione presumed) was unruffled, calmly sipping her coffee.

"Relax, Beate. It's nothing no one here hasn't heard before." Her curious gaze drifted to Hermione. "I read that you're experienced in nursing men wounded from the war. Surely you've heard them curse in pain?"

Hermione saw no reason to lie. "Yes. Of course."

"All the same, let's keep this conversation civilised, shall we?" One of the wizards (not Sigmund) carefully stepped in.

"If I'm allowed to continue the previous topic," Hermione spoke up, "then I'd have to note that even if Grindelwald found a German to be his catspaw, we'd still be in the same mess we're currently in."

One of the other wizards shrugged. "At least he wouldn't be Austrian."

And well, they also had words to say about the current dark lord himself, who they regarded as more Anglo than Saxon (she found out that Grindelwald was half-English, half-German). She did need to weather that initial reflexive, jingoistic pent-up complaints among others—she had no idea how Tom held his opinion back during that time with an expression of perfect amicability.

Wait, no, she did know. He rarely cared about anything else other than himself, doesn't he?

"Then, there's also the issue that Grindelwald had muggle forces with him in his last attack." Hermione said.

"Yes. What about it?" The strident wizard to Sigmund's left asked.

She paused. None of the Germans seemed to be the slightest bit concerned. The realisation had only dawned on her then.

"You're not worried at all, are you? About the muggles?" She asked.

One of the quieter wizards huffed and spoke up. "Muggles, really? They can't exactly find the wizarding world with both eyes and hands. What is there to worry about?"

"Well, there's this recent worry that we need to protect ourselves against muggles since muggle weapons did the most damage in the Ministry Massacre." Tom offered.

Sigmund shook his head, his expression intensely sceptical.

"Muggles? This is a joke. The only reason they're dangerous is because Grindelwald uses them. They're just one weapon among others. If Grindelwald is no longer a threat, then the muggles will return to being the blind and ignorant sheep they've always been. I see no reason why we should bother with them."

His explanation was followed by a few nods from his friends, and she could see that they generally agree with him.

"You don't think there's a need to 'root their spies out' or 'make sure the muggleborns won't betray us for their roots', then?" Hermione asked, quoting some of the conversations she'd overheard.

It was clear that the chuckles that spread among the Germans were a surprise to the Malfoy and Nott heirs, so much that Abraxas spoke up.

"But the muggleborns do have roots in the muggle world."

"And what would they gain, Malfoy?" the wizard left of Sigmund asked (she'd marked him as von Moritz's right hand at this point). "Do you think life in the muggle world is much better than in the wizarding world, particularly if you have magic? Some might be foolish that way, but we can root them out easily. The rest simply want to be wizards and witches."

Root them out easily, he says, Hermione dryly mused. Want to bet he holds the 'search and destroy' philosophy when it comes to what he considers treasonous behaviour?

Of course, to his credit, he did think that most muggleborns are upstanding citizens of the wizarding world.

"Grindelwald's muggles are a clear danger to us, though." Melchior said.

"If he truly comes with a muggle army of his own instead of the limited group he had up to now, you know what I'd do? I'd get a muggle army of my own too."

Melchior and Abraxas might be shocked, but she was also no less surprised while Tom was clearly interested with that statement. Von Moritz's right-hand wizard believed that it was actually natural for Grindelwald to find any tool he can to aid him in his quest for power. Thus, why shouldn't he use muggles if he considers them to give him an edge? Why shouldn't a wizard use them if he can? Surely, the victories gained showed the worth of the methods?

Not even Melchior or Abraxas can actually argue with that. It was Prussian efficiency at its finest.

Hermione, on the other hand, had some experience in negotiations (even if she couldn't remember how much experience exactly that she had). She could read between the lines enough to realise what he meant. If Grindelwald almost successfully obliterated the British wizarding world with an army of Imperius'd muggles…he'd get his own. A younger, more idealistic Hermione would be outraged that another wizard could consider mind-controlling muggles so easily. The older, cannier her was less worried. Oh, she'd stop him if he ever tried that, sure, but right now, it was merely one scenario out of many. She didn't believe things would really get that bad, and secondly, no one can really know how far desperation can push them until it happened—the wizard (Randolph? Reinald?) was merely more aware of his dark side than most. He wasn't unique among many people.

Around this time, even non-magical UK were cultivating anthrax in labs and field-testing them. The argument for it was, if Germany was to cross the biological weapons line, they'd have the perfect weapon to retaliate. There was a long history for humanity to follow a scorched earth policy when they feel their survival was threatened.

The outspoken wizard from before (Rudolf? Randolph? Reinald? Rainer?) looked Hermione straight in the eye and didn't mince his words. "I would also like to praise you for your excellent work on the wounds from muggle weapons, Fräulein."

"Um, I'm not sure I did anything extraordinary." She fidgeted with her knife.

He shook his head, undeterred. "On the contrary. My father happened to be visiting St. Mungo's recently and spoke to his mediwitch. She told him if it hadn't been for your efforts, the death toll can easily be half again as large."

"Most wizards and witches underestimate the degree of internal bleeding it could inflict, don't they, Rainer?" Sigmund mused aloud (oh, so it's Rainer!) Rainer nodded.

"Indeed. I remembered the time my older brother accidentally caught a bullet to his throat! I was very young, so I was surprised by the amount of blood the human body actually contain while my mother rushed with a handkerchief in one hand and a wand in the other to stop the bleeding. I can't help but compare the gushing fountain of blood to those of the pigs being cut for Christmas feast."

The blonde witch (Beatrix?) heartily agreed. "My brother was shot once too. He was off hunting, he said. I remember the mediwitch picking fragments shattered bones out of his arm. I hear that if you're a muggle, crushed bones like that is enough to get your limbs cut off."

Another wizard shook his head. "How barbaric."

"It is, isn't it? It's nothing we need to worry about at any rate. Look, he had enough to turn it into a keepsake for me." She casually pulled out her necklace from inside her clothes. The pendant was a classic heart-shaped one that you can keep pictures in—what Hermione noticed was that it was bone white. The tiny etchings on its edge was rust-coloured; she suspected they were very, very small runes, coloured with blood.

"Please tell me he's smart enough to use his bone and blood as a base for a protection amulet. 'Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood' and all that." Her brunette friend remarked.

"Of course. He's neither squeamish nor a fool." Beatrix proclaimed.

Hermione's gaze sharpened with interest. She realised that the old German families who managed to leave for England were actually even more traditional than many of the English ones. The average student would not even notice, but she was too aware that the only branch of magic that can turn blood and bone into a protection charm was blood magic. She made a note to herself to chat with the blonde German some time in some place discreet enough to talk about it. Her talk with Tom made her painfully aware just how shallow her knowledge was on blood magic.

While Wilhelmina and one other wizard was observing Beatrix's pendant with curiosity, the rest was mostly listening to the wizard (Reinald? No, Hermione, Rainer) that was still telling the story of how he helped stopped his brother from choking on his own blood. Tom seemed to find his description of how his hands slipped from all the blood coating it to be somewhat interesting.

This time, Hermione noticed the other people's paling countenance near them. The Ravenclaw witch subtly moved the topic away before they freak out the less gore-oriented people on the dinner table (read: the more garden-variety Slytherins around them).

In the end, they did get down to business right after that; it was soon clear that the Slytherin Germans still have close contacts with their families in the continents. They didn't even think twice about agreeing to attend the meetings of the Society, or even about of the risks that would entail if anyone they knew were to agree to help search for Grindelwald's base. They had considered it and they had agreed that it was worth it, even the two witches present. In this, they, too, are efficient.

"Excellent. Then I'm sure we'll have a profitable cooperation, Ladies, Gentlemen." Tom said.

"Certainly. It's nice working with you," Sigmund von Moritz agreed, representing his faction.

It only took another minute or two before the entire talk was over. Hermione prepared to leave for Advanced Ancient Runes soon after (this is one of the times her class schedule did not consist of two conflicting classes at once, forcing her to choose between them).

It struck her just now how busy her meal times had been. When was the last time she could enjoy eating in peace, other than the first half of breakfast before people came? Why, it might be her get-out-of-the-infirmary picnic with Eugenie and Tom. Or even the time she ate dinner with him at the kitchen.

(He was taking up a significant amount of her time, wasn't he?)

It was then that she'd begun to wonder if she'd ever have a normal lunch again.

Yet should she be surprised? She knew that Tom wouldn't give up on his rise, whatever form it would take. The dark arts give you an astronomical increase in firepower in such a short time, turning yourself and your forces into a hammer that can flatten everyone else within five years or a decade—frankly, it was what she would call a hack in modern parlance. It was not a surprise that an ambitious youth with non-existent morals like the Tom Riddle in her own history had chosen to take that path.

Of course, she had also witnessed the downsides of it herself in her own time. You lose yourself in its darkness and scarcely what you used to be remains. If one were to take a different path to accumulate power, one that would not end up relying heavily on the dark arts, then other methods must be considered—methods that most certainly required more legwork.

Like politics.

Well, she mused with a sardonic amusement at her philosophical acceptance, I suppose I did sign up for this when I redirected his efforts.

'-

Hermione had come to a halt in front of the Advanced Ancient Runes class, her gaze meeting instantly with that of another Ravenclaw already inside. Tom certainly noticed but he did not lose a beat.

"I'll place your bag in the desk next to mine, shall I?"

"Um."

"I'm sure you both have a lot to talk about."

She huffed. He didn't have to sound so smug about it, just because he considered Verrault to be a lost cause. She slid the straps of her book bag from her shoulders and let him take it from her.

"Yes. I'll meet you later then." Hermione finally said.

It did not take a genius to realise that Jan Verrault would not feel pleased with Tom Riddle's presence. Hermione walked into the classroom towards Verrault's direction as Tom went the other way. She was vaguely surprised to see him in the company of several Hufflepuffs—some even tensed at her footsteps before they turned around and relaxed after seeing her. Huh, that's interesting.

She took a seat next to his.

"So…um, hello?"

Verrault didn't disappoint. "What is Riddle planning?"

"You were there in the Great Hall when Evariste on about The Society's plans to help search for Grindelwald, right? When he and de Montmorency can't seem to stop arguing with each other?"

"It's too…"

"Ambitious?"

"No. Too selfless."

Hermione laughed, catching curious looks from the nearby Hufflepuffs who were apparently doing some off-the-cuff studying. She'd just noticed that they were sitting in a circle, and she'd hazard a guess that one Hufflepuff was at the centre of it all. It struck her as very reasonable that the Hufflepuffs took this class in one big group when they knew at least one of them was very good at Ancient Runes—it improved the odds of survival for everyone.

All for one and one for all, eh?

She turned back to the Ravenclaw wizard who was eyeing her suspiciously.

"Verrault, I did say it's an ambitious project, isn't it? First, do you actually disagree with how I describe it?"

Leaning back against her chair, she kept her gaze on him unwavering, waiting without a word said. After a while, he nodded slowly.

"Yes, it is ambitious. In that sense, it is not uncharacteristic of him."

"Good. Now, as for it being selfless…starting something that would raise his profile in the wizarding world and lay the groundwork for his post-Hogwarts career—that's the farthest thing from selfless, isn't it?"

"If you put it that way…"

"I do, because it is true." Her answer was firm.

"But to go against Grindelwald…" he trailed away, still thinking.

"He's menace to Europe, Verrault. I know this in ways that are too personal and that I won't wish to my worst enemy." Having her entire family and friends killed off? Yes, she wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not that she was even sure it was Grindelwald, but eh, who even knew what happened to her?

"Now, why do you think Tom wouldn't think the same way?"

"Why would he fight another dark lord?"

Hermione's lips inadvertently quirked up at one corner. "'Another' dark lord, is it? Is that what you think he is becoming?"

He tensed up, but even then, it wasn't fear she saw in his eyes but determination. He believed he was right and he was determined to stick to his position. In a way, she could understand him. She was like that once.

"What makes you think that?" She asked, her tone not changing.

"If you can't see it, then it's useless saying anything."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the aura of doom and gloom he was channelling. "I've told you before, haven't I? I know he has his darker side that most people don't notice. What I'm trying to do is find out this; what's your problem with him? And maybe even try to get Tom to ease off it if I agree with you. He did tell me that you once thought he killed someone."

To her surprise, he looked away. Was that…? Was he embarrassed?

"Yet I wasn't completely wrong."

"How so? Last time I checked, 'half-dead' isn't exactly an actual condition. You're either alive or you're not." She said, sceptical.

"He is still sadistic."

"I agree with you." Hermione said. His startled look showed that he clearly hadn't expected that answer. "He has threatened me more than once at the beginning of our acquaintance, and I believe that he's an expert on pain. I'm quite aware of that flaw of his."

"Yet you still remain friends with him?" Verrault asked, dubious.

"I said it was at the beginning, didn't I? He hadn't taken my full measure. He has no idea what it is that makes Hermione Curie who she is. He knows better than to threaten me now. As you can see, it's possible to come to some sort of understanding with him."

"It does not erase his past crimes." The taller wizard insisted.

She held back from huffing. Barely. Yes, yes. He outright implied he has one horcrux already and I guessed that would be his father who snuffed it. I know that.

"And I'm interested in seeing his future change. To hound him for his past would not improve the future, would it?" She asked.

"You'd rather have him walk away without paying for his crimes?"

Hermione took a deep breath and reminded herself that Verrault wasn't exactly wrong. He was simply as stubborn as a bloodhound on a scent, to the exclusion of almost everything else. He reminded her of more than a few Aurors she'd known, actually, though not in a good way.

"What you have against him right now is not even enough evidence to prove he's guilty of even a single crime, isn't it? At best, it would only amount to hearsay in any court." She struck the most noticeable flaw of his that she could see. "To stalk someone endlessly without proof stems from the obsession to be right, not a reflection of the drive for justice."

The other Ravenclaw grimaced but did not back away.

"He's gotten to you, hasn't he?"

She sighed.

"If you're truly looking for justice, don't follow what you 'felt' you know is a wrongdoing. Find the victim of the crime. Listen to his or her grief and follow that to find the evidence needed." She shook her head. "I still can't believe you're sure of Tom's guilt without defining the crime or finding the victim. You're only going to get laughed out of the Auror test this way."

Hermione bit her lip even as the two of them stared each other down. She felt that she was being unnecessarily cruel to him, especially since she said her last sentence particularly because she could see an inkling of his dreams outside Hogwarts and it was her best guess. Yet she could find no other way to force him to confront his most glaring flaws but to be harsh with the truth.

"What do you know of the Auror test? I hear you haven't been in Britain for years."

"I still know more than you do."

For certain, she knew of Harry's. She didn't think the basic idea changed so much over decades, though she had to admit that the technicality of the procedure might have. And well, if she knew of one from a later period, it's certainly bound to be more complicated than anything they could have now, right? Preparing against the future test would certainly over-prepare anyone from this period.

From the stiffness of his jaw, Hermione knew she hadn't managed to reach him today, but it didn't mean she could stop from trying. She softened her voice and gave genuine advice.

"Remember, evidence is king. Motive is queen. With only motive, you don't have a case yet, just the possibility of one. Without either, you don't have a case at all. You only have a conspiracy theory or an attempt at slander. If you want to go after Tom, make sure your case is airtight, because he's damn well better than practically everyone in managing the technicalities. There's no way you could gain an advantage against him there or somehow just expect him to slip up."

She shook her head. "He doesn't slip up on the details. Not unless he's gone batshit insane."

Her smile was wry, but he certainly didn't understand her little in-joke.

"That's your priorities: 1) Evidence, 2) Motive. Oh, it's also important to always backup your files in at least two different places. Always have a safe house for your important witnesses. Arrange for a friend to check your house if you haven't contacted them in more than a month—tell them how to access one of your backup files too, just in case. That way, if you're ever killed in your investigations, it wouldn't stop with you."

He had been doubtful at first, before she could see that he was gradually listening to her. Incredulity shone from his face when he paid attention to her words. If he had but the slightest knowledge of investigations, it would soon be clear to him that she wasn't leading him wrong. She did take his dedication seriously, and she did give him a serious advice in that regard in return.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to stop tilting at windmills against imaginary monsters." She softly said. It was never pleasant to be Sancho Panza, even worse when the person you're watching over actually had potential to be more.

"The monster isn't imaginary." He said.

"The crimes you think you see are unreal." She replied. "And aren't you actually making it worse? Some of your accusations are so ridiculous that even more reasonable suspicions in the future are going to slide away too easily—precisely because no one wants to be associated with 'that crazy guy'"

He winced but didn't let it stop him.

"You could help me."

"I am helping you." She was exasperated.

"You could come to me if Riddle did something unsavoury with the evidence."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "If he did something unsavoury, I wouldn't be standing in front of you; I'd be stopping him or die trying. It's your investigation—it's certainly your responsibility to collect the evidence."

"Die trying?"

"If it's worth doing, it's worth dying for, don't you think?" She challenged.

The two Ravenclaws had been too involved in their argument that they hadn't paid much attention to the studying Hufflepuffs nearby. A few of them were outright watching, even if most were confused (she guessed that almost all the students were wondering who on earth was the person they're talking about, since most people couldn't imagine Tom in that position at all). This time, it was hard to ignore them as the circle rose up and broke open. They were rather synchronised with each other that it was almost like seeing the petals of a flower opening.

From the centre, it could be said that a fairy stepped out. The witch was so slender and ethereally beautiful that she could easily be one. Even her eyebrows were as dainty and perfectly-shaped as willow leaves, her complexion smooth and clear. It was her Hufflepuff tie and Hogwarts uniform that confirmed she was as human as everyone there.

"Enough Jan. She's exactly as you've described."

Her words piqued Hermione's curiosity.

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End Notes:

Don't worry about all the characters from the French and German contingent. If I don't expect Hermione to remember them all, I certainly wouldn't expect more from any readers.

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I might add some notes on Don Quixote for the context of 'tilting at windmills' and 'imaginary monsters' here if my brain doesn't feel like it's turned to mush . So no, none of that right now. Might update it later, though.

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Additional Notes:

Around this time, even non-magical UK were cultivating anthrax in labs and field-testing them: I would like to refer to you to Gruinard Island, a small, nondescript Scottish island that was used for field tests of the anthrax bacterium in 1942. How do they decontaminate it decades afterwards? By spraying 280 tonnes of formaldehyde solution diluted in sea water over the entire 196 hectares of the island while also removing the topsoil with the worst contamination.

The only reason the government finally moved to do it in the first place was because of a group of activists trying to raise the island's profile in public (and raising hell in the process). Otherwise, who knows when the family of the original owners were able to buy it back (anthrax-free) from the government in the first place?

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Pendleton is going to get a rather long viewpoint segment in the next chapter, so putting in his mini-bio seems pertinent. Since the next chapter's end notes is going to get filled with Ancient Runes or linguistic details, I thought I'd just put it here:

Patroclus Pendleton (OC): He shares classes A. Potions, ADADA and A. Ancient Runes with Tom Riddle. He came from an old family that's not part of the Sacred 28. His name is the Latinised form of the Greek Πατροκλος (Patroklos) which meant "glory of the father". He is, on that note, an almost identical copy of his father. This is the name of a close friend of Achilles whose death brought him back to the Trojan War.

He's one of the more intelligent members of Tom's inner circle, though less stridently ambitious compared to Melchior or Abraxas. He prefers to go by his last name even among friends.

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