Author's Note:
Early update because there's a bit of a utilities crisis here. Might not be able to update at the usual time in the next 24 hours otherwise. Thanks to everyone who'd reviewed and sorry if I haven't managed to give a personal reply.
'-
45 Troublesome Tuesdays
Breakfast, with side of déjà vu. In which Hermione socialises a lot more than she actually prefers to. The Knights of Walpurgis dissects the situation. Unexpected announcements. Andrew shows that he is truly a gentleman.
'-
If Hermione had expected Tuesday to be better than Monday, she was in for a disappointment.
Breakfast started out well enough. She came to the great hall early, as was her habit. There weren't many people there yet, though she was not surprised to see that Tom was one of them. She could see him already in deep conversation with Abraxas, Melchior and Pendleton—who she had now started to think as the 'saner' Knights of Walpurgis. She guessed Starkey wasn't an early riser.
Auguste's presence surprised her. He was seated some distance away, but not such that conversation would be impossible (especially on a rather empty table).
"Auguste! I didn't think you'd already be here this early."
He chuckled ruefully at that. "And I wish I didn't have to either. However, this is the perfect time to take up a large space on my own, before everyone else starts to arrive and fill the table."
"Especially since we're going to need that space." A wizard said.
Hermione turned around and saw Bernadotte and Ceres approaching. To her surprise, they sat next to their Ravenclaw compatriot.
"You're going to have a meeting?"
"Merely mediating discussions in La Société. Saturday made it clear that we cannot afford to relax. Yesterday's foolish news only emphasised the need for actual good news soon to counter baseless rumours. For that to happen, the search needs to start faster," Auguste said. "Well, Evariste will be the one trying to lay some groundwork—he'll be here soon. Yet since I'm the actual Ravenclaw out of everyone else involved, I certainly have to host the meeting."
Something clicked in her mind when he said that.
"Ah, you'd be inviting the Slytherin Germans over, then?"
"Yes. Sigmund would come with Blankenstein, Alsing and Regenstein."
Other than Beatrix, Hermione wasn't sure she knew the others by name. No wonder they chose the Ravenclaw table, she thought. She couldn't imagine the Slytherins agreeing to drop in at the Gryffindor table or vice versa.
"A small meeting, then?" She asked.
"It is only a chat over breakfast. Of course, it can't be entirely serious." Auguste answered.
"You're welcome to join us if you wish." Ceres offered, her smile as friendly as always.
It was nice of the sixth-year to say that and Hermione was genuinely interested. Yet she still felt rather awkward around Evariste. Auguste had the detachment of the intellectuals at Parisian salons. When he said he wasn't interested in courting her when they were virtual strangers, she could read it clearly in his collected air. Even when he might pay excessive attention to her in an over-the-top manner in jest, they both recognised it as the lark that it was. Evariste was a tad too genuine, especially because she couldn't genuinely say that she wasn't interested in him—just that she didn't think she'd have time for him.
The same way she didn't really have the time to sit down and think about what Tom meant to her right now. There's too much to do to change the future.
"Some other time, maybe," Hermione said, coming up with an excuse on the spot. "Tom's calling a convocation of his own right now."
"And you're about to go there. I understand." There was an amused gleam in Auguste's hazel eyes, not that she knew what it was about.
"I'd love to catch up with you after this to get the rundown, though."
"See you at lunch, then, Hermione."
"See you later, Auguste. Bye Ceres, Bernadotte."
"Please, Hermione, it's Philippe—"
She smothered her own grin as he complained. Maybe she'd call him Philippe some other time. With a quick exchange of greetings, Hermione made her escape from her own table, as absurd as it sounds. She was already near the Slytherin table when the square-jawed Sigmund von Moritz was making his way to the Ravenclaws'.
"Curie."
"Auguste is already there. I think the Gryffindor contingent is only missing Evariste." Hermione said, in lieu of a greeting. Sigmund nodded formally at her reply.
"This looks a little like an exchange of hostages," the Slytherin witch that wasn't Beatrix said, her smile sly.
Embarrassingly, Hermione couldn't recall the name of the other, dark-haired young woman. The main reason she remembered Beatrix was because she'd spent yesterday's breakfast sitting next to and talking with her.
Beatrix huffed. "If it was, it only showed how pathetic we all are. We're exchanged for exactly one person! No offence, Hermione."
"None taken," Hermione replied, smiling.
"I mean, if this was a real situation, who on earth would you be? The Queen of England?" Beatrix was clearly taking the scenario far more seriously than anyone else. "That's the only way it would make sense."
Sigmund von Moritz seemed to be unbothered in standing there to wait for their chat to be done. The other wizard who'd been trailing behind the three of them was starting to catch up now.
"Well, Beatrix, she's clearly the queen of something." The other brunette said, her blue eyes alight with good humour.
"I really don't see it, Mina."
"I'm sure you will if you just wait long enough." Mina said, with a shrewdness that was more than a little disconcerting—her name's Wilhelmina, Hermione recalled at that moment.
"See you later, Hermione."
Hermione nodded. "Of course, Mina, Beatrix."
She'd just managed to recollect that they'd agreed to be on first-name basis. Hermione could feel her cheeks warming slightly at the remembrance. If Beatrix didn't use her friend's name out loud, she wouldn't have remembered Wilhelmina's name. Wilhelmina, Wilhelmina von Alsing. She bid the wizards farewell too and they continued on their separate ways.
'-
Tom's eyes widened slightly when he saw her coming over. He'd missed her initial approach, shielded as it was by Sigmund's group. She didn't know how she even noticed such a slight difference, merely that she did. Pendleton simply continued to drink his tea while across him, Abraxas was doing that weird rapid blinking thing.
Next to Pendleton, Melchior recovered from his surprise faster and was the one who greeted her first.
"Good morning, Hermione."
"Morning, Melchior."
Other greetings followed his and she replied to them absentmindedly. It wasn't until she sat down and heard Tom's softly spoken 'good morning' did she realise that he'd held back until she was right next to him. She replied in kind, "Morning."
"What's today's topic?" Hermione asked them. Pendleton mulled over it from his position across the table, admittedly for a little too long.
"Clean-up," Abraxas replied with a sigh from Tom's other side.
"We need to ameliorate the effects of yesterday's article, obviously. It would also be more effective if we're not just using one channel." Melchior summarised.
She saw Starkey staggering lazily into the hall along with several other students—she'd know that newsboy cap anywhere. He was probably still half asleep even now. The moment he noticed their little group was actually rather obvious, because he froze for one second before walking as fast as he could without outright running. Gallus was somewhere behind him but he wasn't half as concerned as Starkey was. He walked at a plodding pace while yawning.
"The first of such efforts will probably be clear today." Tom stated.
"What is it?" She asked.
"Amelia Bones was so incensed that she went off to call her father about the Prophet directly after breakfast."
"Floo-called?"
"Yes. Fortunately, I managed to get a hold of her before she did so, assisting her in hammering out the main points of contention with the Daily Prophet article."
Realisation hit her. "That was the reason you left the table near the end of breakfast."
He nodded. "I saw her leaving the Hufflepuff table. I'm sure we'll see an editorial by Chief Auror Amalric Bones in today's Prophet."
Even Abraxas was impressed. "That's going to be quite a blow to yesterday's rampant speculation."
"We'll see," was Tom's noncommittal answer. Hermione was watching him carefully.
"That wasn't the only thing you did, was it?"
"Anyone who only relies on a single plan to achieve his goal is either desperate or foolish."
Starkey shoved himself in between another wizard and Melchior—the wizard moved without question. The Nott heir sighed loudly before asking Pendleton to switch seats. The blond did it without a second thought. Gallus took up Starkey's other end, pushing the unfortunate wizard who'd been there before even farther.
For all the thoughts that they threw out periodically at each other, it was clear that none of them were too concerned now. It seemed that they were reassured of how outlandish yesterday's assertions would seem to most people once they've managed to contact home and heard back of their father's take on it.
This time, Emma was the one who took a seat next to Hermione—apparently, she'd moved from her position farther down the table where the seventh-years were. The witch who'd followed Emma's move and sat on the seventh-year's other side was someone the Ravenclaw witch didn't know, though her face was familiar.
Emma did the introductions; this was the other sixth-year prefect Hermione hadn't seen much before, Clytemnestra Gamp, Mordred Montmorency's partner. Her cool attitude clearly said that she was not pleased by the Ravenclaw's presence but was tolerating it for her friend's sake. Hermione stuck at the same level of distant civility. Fortunately, they didn't really have any reason to interact often, as they weren't seated closely.
The tables started to fill up—Hermione was only too glad that the Hufflepuff table now completely obscured her from most people on the Ravenclaw one. More plates of entrée began to pop up on the table, denoting that the full spread of breakfast had arrived.
When the owls finally descended upon the tables in a whirlwind of feathers, everyone was tense with anticipation.
As before, Tom had first claim to Abraxas' newspaper.
The first reaction came from Starkey. "That by-blow of mawkish fustiluggs!"
"Language," Gallus reminded in a half-bored voice. He probably only said it because there were witches around them.
"Bloody hell is right," Melchior muttered, tossing his copy across the table to Abraxas without regard that good manners would've decried such action. He was upset and beyond caring. His other hand ran through his dark hair. "That…that idiot of a Minister…"
"Let's not jump to conclusions yet." Pendleton was the voice of reason there. He hadn't taken his eyes off his paper.
"We can start with what we know is true, and work out a plan from that point," Tom said. With that, he slid Abraxas' newspaper to her. He tapped the beginning of a particular column and Hermione's eyes drifted in that direction, ignoring the picture of a determined-looking Spencer-Moon next to it. (That one was probably a follow-up article to yesterday's interview on the Ministry's security upgrades).
"Order of Merlin Considered for Courageous Conduct during Hogsmeade Attack."
It didn't exactly sound like bad news. The piece did detail about the bravery of Hogwarts staff and students, as well as several ordinary citizens. It mentioned in passing about the counterattack that Merrythought and the other witches with her had pulled off.
"Home Undersecretary Laius Fudge has graciously given his time for an interview…"
She skipped the lines fawning over the undersecretary with a contemptuous huff she couldn't restrain. Like forefather like descendant, she supposed.
"…He assures us that the rumours were true. Indeed, some of the brave souls who had risked their lives to defend Hogsmeade are being considered as Order of Merlin recipients. 'The proposal is on the Minister's table and I have expedited it. Rest assured that the true heroes will be rewarded.' …"
It was only when she read further that she understood what caused Starkey to spit and curse as well as irritating Melchior.
"…Undersecretary Fudge continues that the most prominent of these is of undoubtedly Andrew Abbott, Hogwarts Head Boy who has even taken a shot in his efforts to protect other students and the civilians in the area. He was the one who had risked the most during the Sombre Saturday…"
Hermione paused at that section in disbelief. "What the hell?"
It wasn't as if she wanted to be rewarded for what she did. It was just the sheer untruth told in The Daily Prophet that galled her. She'd never thought that there were people shameless enough to rewrite history within a few days after it happened.
Abraxas' muttered 'buggering bollocks!' was heard only a few moments after that.
There were eyewitness accounts of how brave Andrew had been (of course), and how selfless he was, enough to give a firsthand account of his heroism and certainly convince the readers just how deserving he was of that Order of Merlin. It was convenient that Slytherin's table was right next to Hufflepuff's. Hermione scanned the near end of their table for the Abbotts—it was not hard as Andrew was rather tall, and most of the people in his vicinity was usually looking in his direction.
To his credit, the Head Boy didn't look the slightest bit pleased either. He seemed to be…arguing with the enthusiastic people around him? Wow, give Andrew some credit for integrity.
"If the brainless cove behind yesterday's mummery is the same numbskull, I'd claw him off the second I clapped my eyes on him," Starkey said.
Everyone was too pissed off to remind him about his language.
"That would be too easy to trace. It would be nice if it was true, but I doubt we'd be lucky enough to face someone that stupid." Pendleton spoke up.
Hermione shook her head. "Not that I actually care about the Order of Merlin, but why Andrew? Other than us, the Gryffindor prefects were also there."
"Abbott's part of the Sacred 28, Crouch obviously did not get wounded, so Abbott's a lot more heroic there. As for Bernadotte and Victorinus? No offense, but they're foreigners. Some factions in the Ministry would have noted that." Melchior replied bluntly, with the astuteness of a seasoned noble at the king's court.
Melchior had enough tact not to mention either of them. Hermione was getting a little too good at ignoring her old feelings of rage about this. The only emotion left was just annoyance, in the sense of 'not this shit again'.
"I bet this is enough for Wizengamot to get an inquiry going against Spencer-Moon." Abraxas said.
"Regardless of what impression this gossip rag is trying to sell us, we do need to check what the Minister's actual position in all this is. No matter how highly-ranked Fudge was, he's still not the Minister himself."
That was Emma speaking up. To Hermione's surprise, no one seemed to regard it as odd. She was dead certain that the seventh-year wasn't a Knight of Walpurgis, and yet here she was, smoothly with them. The future was changing faster than she had thought.
"Yes. Better to have our own first-hand and second-hand sources than rely on the words of others."
That was Pendleton again. Next to Pendleton, Melchior stared across the table to Abraxas.
"Your call this time, or mine?"
The Malfoy heir mulled over the question carefully. "I think I did enough snooping and writing back and forth to my father for Orion's beef with the Minister the last time around. Arcturus Black was stalling Spencer-Moon's reform attempts with my father and some of our traditional allies. Your side can take over this time."
Melchior nodded. "Right. Time to figure out how the Greengrasses and Zabinis want to play this."
At times like this, one becomes aware just how high the channels that Abraxas and Melchior could access, or the connections they had.
In the midst of all this, Tom's chuckle came as a surprise. It drew the attention of everyone in his vicinity. As she observed him quietly, she could see that he truly was unburdened.
"Ladies, Gentlemen. In spite of all this, there's one thing that you need to keep in mind." His blue eyes were bright today. "We have one great advantage compared to them—we are the wronged and our cause is right. Many claimants to a throne have won with less."
She could see the people around her straightening up, suddenly filled with a relentless spirit. His composure calmed them down, especially Starkey who was chomping at the bit to tear into someone. It would seem that a charismatic leader does make a difference in bringing a people together behind a vision. Hermione shifted a little did a quick glance to the left, to see how the other prefect next to Emma took it. It seemed that she needn't have worried; the Gamp witch wasn't even staring at Tom like a love-struck young woman. It was worse—she did it with the zeal of a true believer.
There was something about the preparedness of Tom's reaction that seemed irregular to her. His followers might not have seen it, because they believed in his greatness.
He was certainly a genius, she knew that. But she also knew that he was human.
"You knew the Order of Merlin award was coming, didn't you?" Hermione leaned towards him and spoke in a low tone.
"I had my suspicions." He replied evenly.
"I can't believe you could've seen this…this total train wreck happening."
His smile was vexingly enigmatic. "As you have your own secrets to read the future with, Hermione, I have mine."
The brunette witch stared at him flatly, unimpressed.
No, he definitely wasn't a seer anymore that she was one. No one could predict the future with that degree of accuracy—he clearly had known it would happen within one or two days. It wasn't as if he had the Minister's ear either to have inside knowledge of what was about to happen after the Hogsmeade attack.
As Tom gave additional tasks to the Knights, Hermione was too busy thinking to be paying them any attention. (Apparently, he was waiting to see how they'd move on their own initiative, to what purpose she had no time to try to divine).
He was clearly expecting something on Monday. It was the reason behind why he invited her over to the Slytherin table in the first place. The nuisance that was Monday's news was not something he expected—he'd been in a pleasant mood before, so he certainly was not waiting for that. For all his preparedness today, she couldn't imagine that it was something to look forward to. A more accurate reflection of his state of mind in the case of that mess would be the thrill of anticipation, perhaps coupled with a slightly vengeful edge.
If he had known, he'd have waited for it with the preparedness of a hunter waiting for the first sign of his prey.
But no, he had been relaxed, laid back. Less of a king on the hunt and more akin to one waiting for his subject to present him with a tribute…
A fragment from today's Daily Prophet rose in her mind.
… the brave souls… risked their lives to defend Hogsmeade… considered as Order of Merlin recipients…
Recognition flashed and condensed what she knew and all her thoughts into a gem of insight. She turned to him.
"You saw the Order of Merlin coming," she breathed out softly, too stunned to raise her voice. "But you predicted that it would have fallen in our direction."
Tom did not seem the slightest bit peeved that Hermione had correctly inferred his foresight. He seemed even more delighted, as if she now shared the joke that he was pulling over the world.
"Well, you know how it is with a gut feeling. They're not always too accurate, are they?"
She snorted. She knew it was undignified but she couldn't help it—sometimes his faux-humility was just too over the top. From the mirth in his eyes, it would seem that he knew exactly what he was doing to irk her.
'-
Truly, it was like watching a train wreck unfolding in slow motion. It was terrible, but at the same time it was also something so grand that it was hard to look away.
Hermione could feel the high spirits of most people in Hogwarts that one of their own—the Head Boy—had managed to earn such a lofty award at such a young age. That the Gryffindors were festive was not a surprise (their roars had been particularly loud). They had always appreciated acts of courage. What might have been odd to the average outsider was the confused tumult the Hufflepuff table was in. It was probably due to how Andrew decisively turned away people who wanted to congratulate and cheer him (she could see him shaking his head from this distance), while most of his house had been all too eager to celebrate.
The Ravenclaws were cool, particularly the upper years, though the younger years were still caught up in the celebration. She might not be able to see her house table clearly with the Hufflepuff between them, but she could still see the difference in the dynamics. The older students were far more still than the younger ones, their heads often bowed together in hurried discussions. If there was a house who would be in favour of gathering more information (more knowledge), the Ravenclaws would be it.
Now, the Slytherins…they were seething.
After the noises and ruckus of the initial shock from the news hit, the table was surprisingly quiet. It would not surprise Hermione if they'd managed to spread the news of what she and Tom actually did throughout the whole house since Saturday. She'd had her own affairs to tend to on Sunday, and she'd seen that Tom's schedule was no less full. Clearly, he was not lax in doing all the thousand and one little things that a proficient puppet-master ought to, to ensure that all the relevant strings still end up in his hands.
The Hufflepuffs' table were placed between the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws to keep the peace between the more academically-inclined Slytherin and the determined Ravenclaws. This was to provide a buffer in case their competition heated up.
Now, it was not looking like such a wise idea.
"Please tell me that the prefects can at least hold back their house members from being stupid," Hermione said. She'd seen more than one dark look from the Slytherin table to the Hufflepuffs'.
"There had been a prefect meeting yesterday on how to mitigate the effects the Daily Prophet's article might bring on the muggleborns in each house." Tom answered. "I'm sure it could be adapted to take this into account too."
Before she could say anything else, she saw Andrew Abbott standing up. He didn't just climb up to the benches, he took to the table. This was possible because there weren't many people who were still eating their breakfast at this point. Hermione had to admire how he completely ignored how Headmaster Dippet and some of the teachers were trying to tell him to get down with some weird arm-waving. He turned and twisted his wand around to cast some spell.
"Alright, everyone! Let me make a few things clear." His voice could be heard to the corners of the hall. "My Housemates have argued with enough evidence and comparison that I really did something heroic. Fine. I'll leave that be for now. But I have to tell you what had been common knowledge among us prefects since Saturday."
"The Daily Prophet said that I have been courageous, and that I risked the most in getting shot. But know this. I wasn't the only one shot that day!" He raised his voice, as strident as Hercules in his conviction. "Tom Riddle was also shot. He was trying to do the same thing I was trying to do, to take one of the attackers down."
Hermione froze as all the heads in the great hall turned in their direction. Tom was completely at ease with the attention. For all she knew, the blood in his veins might as well have been made of ice. She could feel his hand laid over hers, stroking lightly and carefully easing tension out.
"Hermione Curie saved five people who had been shot as she administered emergency healing to them before escorting them to safety, and then to St. Mungo's. They had relieved a fellow prefect, Timaeus Crouch who can tell you that he'd been cornered before they arrived."
"Hear, hear!" Came an indistinct shout from the Gryffindor table. Crouch, she presumed.
"Let's not forget the other Gryffindors who managed to separate another attacker from the civilian around them—that's Ceres Victorinus and Philippe Bernadotte."
"Aww, you're making me blush here, Andrew!" Philippe hollered from the Gryffindor table. His lungs were powerful enough to be heard even without any spell. "I'm still not going to date you, though!"
Laughter broke out, and Hermione could see that even the tension at the Slytherin table had lessened.
"Oh, and lastly, Tom Riddle actually managed to subdue the attacker he was dealing with. Me? If professors Dumbledore and Dexter hadn't arrived in time, I'm not so sure whether I'd still be standing here in front of you right now."
A hush fell over the hall at his words as they realised the seriousness of his statement. Dumbledore only smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, while Dexter seemed distinctly embarrassed.
"Actually," Tom spoke up, he'd cast a Sonorus before she knew it, "if we're talking of the critical blow, that would be down to Hermione. I did the initial attack to disable him, but she was faster in reaching him and knocking him out."
She glared at him, silently mouthing 'how could you do this to me?' He was, of course, unrepentant. Tom gestured at her to face everyone who was definitely staring at her now, instead of only her general area, a grin on his face. Surprisingly, Starkey, Pendleton and Melchior had shifted in their seats so that the rest of the hall had an unrestricted view to her sitting spot, where she was currently doing her best deer-in-headlights imitation.
Oh, bugger.
Fortunately, Andrew didn't leave her high and dry.
"And that's it, people! It was a team effort. Whatever happens after all this, I want you all to also know the names of my colleagues, my friends, not only mine. For if I was a hero, then it's clear that I wasn't the only hero that day. That's all I have to say."
With a bow that was soon followed up by a cacophony of applause, Andrew jumped down from the Hufflepuff table.
It was a good thing that Hermione had finished breakfast, because now, the attention of the entire Slytherin table was focused on her.
"Well, that was actually nice."
As usual, Pendleton had his gift for understatement.
'-
As nice as it had been to see the esprit de corps of the Hogwarts prefects, it didn't do a thing about the Ministry's position. They had decided that Andrew Abbott was the most heroic of the people who had fought back in Hogsmeade, and that meant they were going to give him an Order of Merlin for his pains. So far, the impression that she got was that, she and Tom (perhaps along with the others), were simply going to be treated as if they weren't part of the story.
Erased.
The Knights of Walpurgis and The Society (because that was what Emma was from, right? And Oswin, who was now also pitching in?) still continued to plan ways to use their blatant favour to Andrew as a leverage against the Minister, if not the Ministry itself. What exactly they were trying to get still eluded Hermione, but she can figure it out later.
At the very least, Andrew's announcement had pre-empted the possible friction rising between Hogwarts' different houses. Hermione really couldn't give a damn about not being awarded an Order of Merlin, but she firmly believed that Hogwarts didn't need any more division among them. It was a good thing that Andrew was sensible—she supposed it was one of the underrated traits of the Hufflepuffs. If that was true, then they certainly needed more Hufflepuff to become prefect heads.
"See you in Advanced Charms," Hermione said. Tom was still watching the flow of the discussion when he turned to her momentarily.
"You'd be going with the Ravenclaws, I take it?"
"This is actually the only class that I share with two of my dormmates. I'm not wasting the opportunity."
He nodded. "See you later."
It still surprised her whenever he practically shrugged when her schedule was filled with other things that left no space for him. It just seemed…incongruous? Perhaps it was the way he'd been sticking closely by her side in the past week, or the way his people followed him completely. Not that she was going to complain that Tom Riddle still had enough working parts to somehow pass as a decent human being. She felt like she was missing something here.
Oh well. She can figure it out later.
'-
Flitwick's effusive 'Miss Hermione Curie, we finally meet in my class. Welcome!' was a little on the embarrassing side, but as the Charms professor rolled full steam into his current lecture without pause, any worries that she might have had disappeared. She already knew that he was a dedicated teacher, and it showed. It did not matter much that his technique is still rough around the edges right now as he was still a new professor right now.
It had been nowhere near as mortifying as Slughorn trying to refer to her or Tom every ten minutes or so in yesterday's Potion class. She had to hold herself back from telling him that really, whatever it was that she or Tom did on Saturday was nowhere near related to Potions, and can they get back to the effects of the phases of the moon on the magical qualities of potion ingredients? And how they affect the resulting potions? Yes, that one, the one that Starkey's grandmother was famous for.
It was no surprise that she chose to duck out of the double Advanced Potions class that was scheduled after lunch, choosing Advanced Care of Magical Creatures instead and Advanced Astronomy.
Hermione did find it oddly funny that at lunch, Andrew tried to find Tom to apologise about getting an Order of Merlin when Tom didn't. Tom, of course, assured the other prefect that it was fine and that he knew it wasn't Andrew's fault (she could see from the glimmer in his blue-black eyes that Tom also found it somewhat amusing). She noticed it when she was about to drop by the Slytherin table for a while, just to check what was up. Andrew even felt bad that there was no mention about her. She waved it away as easily as Tom did, and probably with genuine earnestness in her case.
Really, she helped people because, what else was she to do when she knew she was the person with the best healing knowledge in miles at the moment? If anyone else knew as much as she did, she had no doubt that they'd do the same.
Tom and Andrew shared a look that Hermione couldn't decipher, before the conversation flowed on easily and the head boy took his leave from them.
The rest of her classes went well—not that Hermione ever doubted her ability to get through them. What was interesting was all the times outside that. There were still people in awe of the fact that Andrew was considered for Order of Merlin and overjoyed at the idea. She'd heard enough sarcasm from Harry about how even if individual wizards or witches might be intelligent, the public had the collective intelligence of a bag of drunk pixies. Draco had been no less scathing or dismissive on the topic and added that at least a bag of drunk pixies could agree on a direction to move. The wizarding public would walk in circles until the cows come home if no one was there to hold their hands.
They had both been very bitter, but she didn't think she could fault them. Hermione had thought that it was simply because both of them had been famous, albeit for different reasons, and experienced the pain of having no personal life firsthand.
It was at breakfast the next day that she caught the drift of the chatter around her (alright, she cheated by augmenting her hearing a little).
The Daily Prophet had arrived at the tables again, and everyone had gone through it. Hermione saw the correction on page two about their Monday headline, probably because they published the letter by Amalric Bones right then. Today's headline, however, was filled with the great news that the Home Undersecretary Laius Fudge was planning on visiting Hogwarts today, to talk to the heroic Andrew Abbott, paragon of courage and the ideal that the new generation of British wizards should aspire to. The Prophet also promises their excited readers that they would do their best to secure a winning interview with him.
At the Hufflepuff table, there was the rare discussion about what it meant that Andrew was the only one chosen, but more noticeable were the excitement from others.
"Our head boy is a real hero! It's unbelievable, isn't it? I keep expecting to wake up and find that everything's just a dream." An unknown witch gushed.
"Exactly! He's so magnanimous about the other prefects too."
Elsewhere, another was sharing what he felt about the unexpected blessing with his friends.
"Can you believe that one of us is winning the Order or Merlin before graduating from Hogwarts?"
At the Gryffindor table, she heard Gryffindors proclaiming that Andrew could have been 'one of us'.
"He's right brave for a Hufflepuff."
"I heard from a friend of my sixth-year sister that he told everyone to run while he held the muggle back!"
Another mused out loud. "It would be great if a Hogwarts student's getting the Order of Merlin, isn't it?"
On and on the conversations continued to flow around her, and Hermione couldn't seem to draw herself away from listening in. The strangeness of it all tugged at her sense of morbid curiosity.
Andrew's statements had managed to mitigate the worst of the inter-house rivalry from breaking out. But there were still people who thought that it was a matter of course that among the prefects that received the award, Andrew was the one best to receive it.
"Well, I know that many people were involved at Hogsmeade," Hermione overheard the conversation from her own table. It was that snooty seventh-year blonde. Who was she again? Selwyn, with an S-something first name that the time-stuck witch couldn't recall. "But who else was fitting? Crouch hadn't been heroic enough—he had to be relieved by Riddle and Curie, imagine that! And the two of them have poor connections, if any at all."
"Why the nerve of that witch—" Eugenie muttered under her breath, clearly holding back from saying several choice expletives.
"Oh, ignore her, Eugenie. She's not worth it." Hermione said.
"There really was no doubt that Andrew deserved it most." Selwyn finished, several people down on the table from them.
Hermione might have advised Eugenie to let it go, but it was clear that no one did the same to Julia.
"Really, Selwyn? I thought Order of Merlin was given out based on merit, not on whose relations were closer to the Minister of Magic." Julia replied from around the same direction. "Otherwise, why not call it the Campaign Contribution Awards altogether?"
"Goldstein," the disapproving tone told much about the Selwyn's heiress opinion.
"It doesn't matter whether the families are close or not—whose family doesn't know each other's around here? Besides, there was no question that Andrew had done the heroic thing. Alan was there on his side of the street and could testify to that." A wizard's voice rose up, possibly trying to mediate.
"I'm not doubting Andrew." Julia replied. "I'm correcting the view that he's the only one deserving of an award. He's a good guy, but he's not the only one that should've gotten it."
"Please, everyone knows that Andrew is taking it for the rest of the prefect too. He's the head boy, isn't he? Then it's perfectly normal if he represents everyone else too." Selwyn answered.
"Don't make excuses for the Prophet, Selwyn. It's clear they mentioned no one else and doesn't even care."
"What does it even matter, anyway?" Selwyn replied with disinterest. "Someone should be awarded, and someone who was a hero did."
"If that's true, then it shouldn't matter to you either if Andrew didn't get it, right? If no one gets awarded the Order of Merlin. That would have been fair." Julia jabbed back.
She seemed to have hit something because a surprised quiet rippled out for a moment.
"You dare to drag Andrew down just because your arriviste friend's feelings were hurt? How dare you?" The seventh-year's voice was actually quieter and Hermione had to strain to hear it, but the anger colouring it was real. What she couldn't understand was the apparent tension that was also building up in that direction, as if more than one person was holding their breath.
"I'm only arguing for what is fair. And this isn't fair for everyone else. Not just Hermione or Tom, but also Ceres and Philippe."
A pause, of which it cannot be easily said to be long or short.
"At least now we know how much you value the pillars of the community that has sustained us." Selwyn's reply was cool, but from the way the tension wasn't solved and only ratcheted up instead, Hermione caught that things actually got worse.
"This has nothing to do with blood!" Julia answered, frustration clear. The seventh-year only scoffed daintily.
"Please, Goldstein, it has everything to do with blood."
With those words, Selwyn had unknowingly heralded the new era of turmoil inside Hogwarts.
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Author's Note:
Update will slow down after this because:
a) Real life
b) I'm currently stuck in a particular chapter ahead and couldn't progress the story. Wouldn't want the online chapters to overtake the buffer chapters too fast.
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