Later that day, Hermione was not feeling nearly so kindly toward her friends.
"I'm not changing," she said stubbornly. "If I'm going to be walking through fire, I need something fireproof."
"But it's unflattering," Pansy despaired. "You can't get people to join your cause if your robes look like you're wearing a tent!"
"I think she looks badass," Millie said, from her place on Hermione's bed. "I would join her cause."
"You already did," Pansy shot at Millie, who smirked.
"I think it's cool," Tracey chimed in. "When did you even get a full dragonhide robes, anyway?"
"It was owl order a while ago," Hermione admitted. "I didn't know what I was going to wear for the dementors at first, and I thought something fireproof would be a good idea."
"You mean you didn't wear it?" Millie asked, giving her a quizzical look. "Why not?"
"I went more for anonymity, I guess?" Hermione ventured, uncertainty. "I dunno. I just wore black clothes and a black robe over it. I wanted to be able to recede into the shadows if I had to."
Pansy and Tracey exchanged an exasperated look with each other, as if Hermione was an unsensible child, and Hermione felt very put on the spot.
"It's very recognizable, isn't it?" she protested. She went to her closet, whipping hangers from one side to the other. "The robe and outfit were black, like I asked for, but they were too unique to work—"
"Most dragonhide is either black or green," Pansy informed her. "I don't see what the problem is here."
"Most dragonhide in the UK is from the common Welsh Green or the Hebridean Black," Hermione said, pulling something from her closet, "which makes sense, as those are the native dragons to Great Britain. But they didn't send me Hebridean Black. They sent me Hungarian Horntail. See?"
She threw the garment onto the bed. Pansy looked at it, then at Hermione, then at the outfit again.
"What am I missing?" she said flatly. "That just looks like underclothes to the robe you're already wearing."
"It's smooth," Hermione insisted. "Hebridean Black has rougher scales than this, and bigger ones. These scales as smooth and smaller, with a bit of a bronze sheen to them in the light instead of a purple sheen. Hungarian Horntail dragonhide is much less common in the UK!"
"That's what you were worried about?" Millie said incredulously. "Being identified from the breed of dragon scales? In the dark, in Azkaban, while everybody was watching dementors burn alive?!"
Hermione's face flushed, and she crossed her arms defiantly.
"It was a possibility," she said stubbornly. "It was an unnecessary risk I didn't want to take."
"Now hang on," Tracey said, looking at the outfit on the bed. "Hermione, they made leggings and a top for you too?"
"I didn't know if I wanted to wear robes or normal clothes," Hermione explained. "So I had them make both."
"Robes are normal clothes," Pansy huffed, but Tracey was taking the outfit off the hanger.
"Put these on," she told her. "This will look much more awesome than large, untailored robes."
Hermione glared at Tracey, but obligingly she shucked her robe and pulled on the dragonhide outfit.
"Now see!" Pansy crowed, clapping her hands as Hermione laced up her front. "That is the outfit of a Valkyrie!"
Hermione looked at herself in front of the mirror, wincing. "I look like a Sarah Connor rip-off."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, because I'm sure it's a stupid comparison," Pansy said, pushing Hermione's hands away and helping lace the front of her bodice with much greater speed. "This is form-fitting, but also objectively awesome. It has no sleeves, which would help in combat, and your legs aren't inhibited by a big, heavy robe, either."
"It's not traditional wizarding clothing," Hermione protested. "It's—"
"It's hot, is what it is," Tracey interrupted. "Seriously Hermione, are you going to choose now to be traditionally wizarding?"
"If I want people to follow me," Hermione argued. "I need to appeal to—"
"You need to look like a figurehead, not a Ministry worker," Pansy snapped. "This looks unique and epic. Can you imagine this with fiery wings behind her? That would look incredible."
"She needs boots!" Tracey ran to Hermione's closet, shuffling through her shoes. "Hermione, do you have any boots with a heel on them?"
"How are heels practical for combat?" Hermione objected.
"If you can fly and don't need to walk around, why not have your legs look great?" Pansy smirked at her. "I agree with Tracey – we need to find you a boot with a heel."
"There was a helmet in the sketch in the paper," Millie drawled, watching the commotion from the bed with amusement. "You didn't actually wear a helmet, did you?"
"No," Hermione said pointedly. "I braided my hair and pinned it back so it wouldn't get in the way."
"Your hair's kind of short for braids, isn't it?" Tracey said, looking Hermione over with a critical eye.
"It's not if you're doing it for function and not for aesthetics," Hermione shot back, and Tracey grinned.
"Well, now you need to do it for aesthetics too," she said, turning back to the closet. "Pansy, what would you recommend?"
"They did call her the Valkyrie," Pansy mused. "We could go full Viking with it – do tiny braids up to the center and make a big braid down to the back."
"I am not doing that," Hermione said flatly. "I will braid my hair into two braids again, and that will be it."
"Your hair's too short," Pansy said, annoyed. "Even if we French-braided it, you'd just have these short stubby little ends poking out—"
"So add more hair," suggested a new voice. "I'm sure you can use magic to make it match."
Everyone turned to look at the doorway, where Hermione's mother was standing, watching with amusement.
"Hi girls," she said, cheerfully. "Having fun?"
"Hi, Mrs. Granger," chorused the girls.
"Hi Mum," Hermione muttered, embarrassed. Her mother was looking over her, considering.
"You're going for sort of a warrior look, aren't you?" she asked. "Then I agree with your friends. You need longer braids to balance it out."
"Ha!" crowed Pansy triumphantly.
"I have an old wig that's pretty long from a fancy dress party," her mother continued. "It's black, but I'm sure you can do magic to make it match somehow, right?"
"We're not supposed to—" Tracey started.
Hermione quickly cut her off. "That'd be great, Mum! Can you find it?"
"Probably," her mother said, musing. "I'll go look."
Her mother vanished from sight, heading back down the hallway, and Hermione turned to glare at Tracey.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. "My parents don't know we're not supposed to do magic over the summer!"
Tracey's eyes went wide. "You've just been—?"
"Yes, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you!" Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust and frustration. "Honestly."
"Does your mum have boots we could use?" Millie wanted to know. "We don't really have time to go out and look for something."
Her mother returned, bearing a long, black, tangled wig. She handed it over to Pansy apologetically, also handing over a comb and bottle of wig de-tangler.
"It was shoved in the back of a drawer," she admitted. "Hopefully you can at least get some of the wefts to braid into Hermione's hair."
"Thanks, Mrs. Granger," Pansy said, the picture of politeness. "This will be a big help."
"Do you have boots?" Millie asked Hermione's mother, blunt as always. "We were hoping like black boots with a heel?"
Her mother blinked. "A combat boot or a fashion boot?"
Millie faltered. "Uh—"
Hermione's mother laughed. "I'll bring you what I have, and you can see what works."
"Your mum's really getting into this," Tracey observed, watching her leave. "What does she think we're doing anyway?"
"Probably playing dress up," Hermione said, embarrassed. "I don't know."
"She seems to have good ideas," Pansy said, a thoughtful glint in her eyes.
Hermione's mother returned shortly, bearing armfuls of boots.
"So I'm not quite sure what you're going for," she began, "so I brought options. This," she said, displaying a chic mid-calf black boot, "is a typical boot. It's functional for basic things."
"It's kind of plain," Millie observed.
"That's the beauty of it," Hermione's mother said, smiling. "It goes with everything and anything."
"I can see the appeal," Pansy said, watching as Hermione's mother set the pair aside.
"This is what I would a 'fashion boot'," she said. "It's meant for aesthetics, and not much else. They're not terribly functional."
"How far do these go up?" Tracey asked in wonder.
"On me, about mid-thigh," her mother answered.
"What did you even get these for?" Hermione wanted to know. "These are what, five-inch stiletto heels?"
"They're 10 centimeters," her mother said, laughing, "and they were for a Catwoman costume. Your father went as Batman."
"Dad?" Hermione's mind boggled. "Batman?"
"He rented a muscle suit," her mother said, lips quirking up at the memory. "It was a very silly party, if I remember correctly. Your Aunt Margaret went as Poison Ivy."
"What else is there?" Pansy asked, and Hermione's mother set the fashion boots aside.
"These are what I would call 'combat boots'," she said. "These have a heel, but it's big and chunky. These are meant to be functional as well as work for aesthetics."
"I like those ones," Millie said immediately. "You could kick ass in those. Like, literally kick ass."
Hermione's mother looked amused at Millie's description but said nothing, despite the language. Pansy took the boots, looking them over carefully before nodding in satisfaction.
"Put these ones on," Pansy directed, handing them to Hermione. "They're… they're similar-looking to your leggings, so they might work." She looked at Hermione's mother. "What are these made of?"
"Leather," she answered.
Pansy blinked. "What kind of leather?"
"Err—I'd presume cowhide," her mother said slowly. "They're not goatskin, if that's what you mean."
Pansy seemed to mull this over, watching Hermione buckle in the boots.
"How do you even have these?" Hermione wanted to know. "I've never seen you wear them before."
"Oh, they're from my goth phase," her mother said, dismissively. "My feet haven't grown since first form."
"So you just kept all your shoes from when you were a teenager?" Hermione said, surprised.
"Most of my clothes as well," her mother admitted, amused. "They're all packed away, of course, but you never know when you might need something." Her lips quirked. "Like right now."
Pansy despaired over the wig she'd been given, but eventually she'd combed it into submission enough to steal hair from it, which she charmed and braided into Hermione's hair as she went.
"By the end of the braid, it'll all be hair that isn't yours," she said, nimble fingers braiding and weaving, "but who cares? It'll look good."
Blaise and Harry look intensely amused at Hermione, sitting on the floor in front of Pansy, who sat behind her on the couch of the coven house. Hermione shot them both a dark look, and they shrugged in innocence.
"What are the rest of us wearing?" Blaise asked. "Hermione's got her getup down, but the rest of us aren't the Valkyrie."
"We're Shadows," Tracey said incredulously. "We wear black, Blaise."
"Okay, but what kind of black?" he said patiently. "Black silk? Black velvet? We all need to match."
"Oh." Tracey considered. "Well… what does everyone have?"
Harry was the limiting factor, not possessing a black velvet robe, so they all decided on black silk robes with the hoods up.
"We need to figure out what spell the Unspeakables use to keep themselves anonymous," Luna said, playing with her hood, putting it up and down and up and down. "That would make this better."
"The Death Eaters wore masks," Draco commented, watching. He glanced at Susan. "I don't know what Dumbledore's gang wore."
Susan scoffed.
"I would be immensely surprised to learn that they wore anything special whatsoever," she said. "They probably just wore whatever they were wearing at the time and didn't care who saw their faces."
Draco paused.
"…that doesn't seem very wise," he said carefully. "If you're in a vigilante group going up against—"
"I'm well aware it was stupid, thank you," Susan snapped. "My parents died because Dumbledore was too obsessed with being perceived as 'the good guys' to actually do practical things like protect people's identities."
Draco winced and fell silent.
"Hence the Shadows," Harry said cheerfully. "Hermione could be called many things, but impractical is not one of them."
There was scattered laughter from around the room at his remark, making Hermione's face turn red.
"There!" Pansy said, satisfied. "Stand up – let's see you in all your glory."
Obligingly, Hermione stood, taking a few steps forward into the middle of the room. There were "ooh"s and whistles. She turned around slowly, letting them see the front and back.
"Seriously badass," Blaise pronounced, grinning. "I love it."
"Is a tank top and trousers really… magical?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Don't get me wrong, she looks great, but it's…"
"No, it's not," Susan said. "But we want her to look more than the average magical, don't we?"
"Imagine her on wings of fire," Luna advised, eyes sparkling. "It becomes much more awesome."
Harry tilted his head slightly, a smirk growing on his face.
"Okay, yeah, I can see it now," he said. "Your entrance is going to be so cool."
"I hope so," Hermione said. She clapped her hands, looking around. "Okay! What else do we need to get to set this up?"
"Transportation," Millie said immediately. "I'm not sure where we're holding this, but we're all still underage and can't Apparate."
"There's a field not far from the Yard," Draco said. "We could all Floo there."
"The Yard doesn't have a Floo," Hermione said, confused.
"It does now." Draco smirked. "I paid for Aurican to get one installed. I got sick of walking there the long way."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Merlin forbid anything inconvenience you."
Draco laughed. "Well, it's to everyone's benefit now, isn't it?"
"Okay, the field by the Yard," Blaise summarized. He glanced outside, the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows. "Do we go set up now?"
"Better now than in the dark," Millie pointed out. "If we finish up early, we can go get drinks and spread the word more."
"Pansy and I need to go tell the other people we've got interested where to go," Tracey chimed in. "We'll be along before dark."
"Good luck," Luna bid them. "Watch out for Nargles."
Tracey and Pansy both looked mildly alarmed at this.
"Err—sure," Pansy said. "See you soon!"
She and Tracey left through the Floo. Hermione looked around at the others.
"Well," she said finally, sighing. "Let's get this party started."
