CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: UNEXPECTED TIDINGS

Millicent Bulstrode, Hermione Granger, and Lilian Moon's Dormitory Room

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

24 December 1994

"Do you have everything you need packed?" Millie asked anxiously.

Hermione nodded, not bothering looking up from her book.

"Are you sure? Did you remember warm clothes for flying?"

"Yes, and I have my nice robes for Yule."

Millie sighed in relief. "Good. We have extra broomsticks at home, so you don't need to bother bringing one."

"Thank Merlin," Hermione said sarcastically, thoroughly unexcited at the idea of more flying practice. Ron and Harry had spent hours teaching her the basics, and while Hermione wasn't comfortable flying, she definitely had improved since their first year flying class. Unfortunately, based on the information she'd gleaned from the coded paper from the first task, the second task would be some sort of flying obstacle course. Knowing the Triwizard Tournament, there'd likely be a nasty twist as well.

Millie held her hands up in a placating gesture. "Look, don't get snippy with me. You're the one who made a point of asking me to help you practice."

Hermione sighed. Originally, she planned to stay at Hogwarts over the Yule break and have Harry and Ron help her improve her flying skills. That plan hit a snag when Ron's brothers pulled together a big family Yule, and Millie invited Hermione to spend Yule with her family. She'd initially been worried about leaving Harry alone at Hogwarts, but it turned out he was going to Bulgaria with Stefan and Viktor.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered. "I'm just stressed about the second task."

"At least you know the basic premise of it," Millie pointed out. "The first task you went in completely blind."

"I know. But I just feel more worried because I know it involves flying, and I know I'm bad at it."

"Pssh, don't sell yourself short. You're at least average by now."

"Gee, thanks."

"It's a big improvement."

Hermione's nose wrinkled in displeasure and she went back to reading. Millie wasn't wrong. She had improved a lot, but she knew she still wasn't anywhere near as good as Talon or Georg. With any luck, she would move up to 'acceptable' by the end of Yule break and be ready for the second task during the first week back.

"Are you ready to head down to the Express?" Millie asked.

"In a minute. I just need to pack these books away." Hermione carefully shrunk the book she was reading, along with the stack she'd been perusing all morning, and added them into her trunk. After a simple locking spell to ensure that no one would rummage through her belongings, Hermione stood up. "Alright, I'm ready."

The duo made their way out of the Slytherin dorms, into the thestral carriages, and onto the Hogwarts Express where they joined Ron, Lily, and Theo. Harry had left earlier on an International Portkey to Germany where he would then take the Imperial Express to Bulgaria. Hermione had been confused on why they bothered to take a train at all - surely it was easier to take an International Portkey from Hogwarts to the Krum's residence - but long-distance magical travel apparently was much more complex than she thought. There were certain ways Portkeys acted with ley lines that governed how far one could travel, and there also was a limitation on how much Portkey-strain a wizard's body could take. Travel got even more complex in Eastern Europe, however, because of the unilateral control exerted by the Russian Wizarding Empire, which was massive. The Russian Wizarding Empire covered all the territory claimed by the recently dissolved Soviet Union and maintained strong relations with its western neighbors.

Most of her classmates weren't eager to discuss exactly how the Russian Wizarding Empire maintained those relations, and after a bit of sleuthing, Hermione decided she didn't want to know. Some questions were best left unanswered.

Across the compartment, Theo swore.

"What?" Ron asked.

Theo gritted his teeth. "Have you read the Prophet yet?"

"No."

"Read this." Theo thrust the paper towards Ron.

"Dumbledore's Giant Mistake?" Ron asked, skimming the paper. "I'm not surprised Hagrid is a half-giant, I mean that man is massive, but -"

"No, not that article," Theo managed. "The one under it."

"Romance Sparks at Hogwarts' Yule Ball," Ron read. "Doesn't this belong in Teen Witch Weekly or some other rag?"

"Yes, keep reading."

"Alright, alright."

Hermione sidled over to read over Ron's shoulder, curiosity throughly piqued.

ROMANCE SPARKS AT HOGWARTS' YULE BALL

by Rita Skeeter

There is no venue quite as ripe for romance as the Hogwarts Yule Ball, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. With mistletoe hanging in the air and charmed snowflakes floating earthwards, it's not surprising that many young wizards and witches seized the chance to engage in romantic activities. Yes, dear readers, this Daily Prophet exclusive provides you with the inside scoop on who went with whom.

The Yule Ball opened with a traditional waltz danced by the Triwizard Champions and their dates. Senior Hogwarts Champion Cedric Diggory escorted Cho Chang while senior Beauxbatons Champion Lady Fleur Delacour attended with Roger Davies. Lady Delacour was stunning in spun silver dress robes, and clearly one of the best dressed at the Yule Ball. Senior Durmstrang Champion Knyazhich Viktor Krum, renowned Quidditch Champion and Duke of Thrace escorted junior Hogwarts Champion Hermione Granger. Miss Granger, who wore elegant burgundy dress robes from Twilfitt and Tattings, was one of few witches at the event who was able to hold a conversation with her date rather than simply gawping.

Hogwarts intermediate champion Euan McGonagall, Duke of Cairngorm attended with Aoife Moran, Heiress to the Moran Coven.

Hermione skimmed the rest of the article, which was filled with more twaddle on who was wearing what, and the various fashion sins committed by Hogwarts students. Much to her horror, there was a photo of her dancing with Viktor. Luckily, the Hermione in the photo was twirling about elegantly instead of clomping around like a troll.

Ron's ears started turning red, and Hermione's eyes honed in on the photo. Percy and Ron stood off the side, apparently in the middle of a conversation while Ginny and Theo danced in the background. Hermione quickly read the text below the photo.

Percival Weasley, Lord Prewett and Earl of Devon, speaks with his younger brother Ronald Weasley, who will take the title of Lord Gryffindor when he becomes of age as their younger sister, Ginevra Weasley, dances with Theodore Nott, heir to the House of Nott and Earl of Nottingham and Winchelsea. One can only wonder whether Ginevra's older brothers approve of her choice in Yule Ball dates. Are Percival and Ronald attempting to seize control of the family from their older brother William, Lord Weasley, or is this a ploy from Ginevra to escape the suffocating control of her older brothers? Is Theodore Nott shifting House Nott's alignment from Traditional to Progressive or is he simply manipulating the youngest Weasley child? YULE BALL is continued on page 2.

"This is complete and utter bollocks!" Ron exploded. "What does she mean, 'seizing control of the family'? I'm not even Lord Gryffindor yet, and Percy is too busy working at the Ministry, taking uni classes, and dealing with his responsibilities as Lord Prewett to do anything!"

"Tell me about it," Theo said darkly. "My father is not going to be pleased with this, and he's already not happy with me. It's not going to be a good Yule, even with Aria home."

Lily plucked the paper out of Ron's hands, and studied it for a moment. "That's not the worst thing."
"What do you mean, that's not the worst thing? I've got to hope that my father doesn't turn homicidal for Yule!"

Lily tapped the paper impatiently. "Did you notice how many titles were used in the paper? Tell me, when's the last time you remember Rita Skeeter listing anyone's title beyond things to do with the House of Lords?"

The compartment fell silent.

"Bloody hell, you're right," Ron said after a moment. "She never does that, does she?"

"No, she doesn't," Lily said grimly. "And this article tells me one thing: someone very Traditionalist has some kind of pull on Rita Skeeter."

"Actually, it should tell us two things," Hermione said slowly. "I don't know about any of you, but I didn't see Rita Skeeter anywhere at the Yule Ball. I saw the photographers, but not her, and she's kind of a hard person to miss. Also, the story about Hagrid...how'd she get that information?"

The compartment fell completely silent once again as everyone tried to puzzle out yet another horrible truth.

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

London, England

24 December 1994

"Oi, Ron!"

Ron scanned the bustling platform.

"Ron, over here!" A stocky redhead waved at him from across the platform.

"Charlie!" Ron made his way across the platform. He hadn't seen Charlie since the older boy moved to Romania shortly after graduating from Hogwarts. Ron had been mad when Charlie initially left. It'd been barely a year after their father's funeral, and suddenly Charlie was off to Romania. Ron had felt abandoned, and hadn't understood why Charlie had to leave. Now that he was older, he understood. Charlie had always been the most grounded, and Ron couldn't picture him rubbing elbows with Wizengamot Lords.

Granted, Ron couldn't picture himself doing it either. The more he learned about the duties he'd have as Lord Gryffindor, the more confused he got. Initially, it seemed like he'd have to attend Wizengamot sessions, but it was abundantly more clear that was only the start of his duties. There were numerous galas and networking events he'd have to attend if he hoped to gain support for any legislation, and meetings with sponsors to gain the Galleons needed to fund different projects.

Ron had no idea how Bill and Percy were managing their Wizengamot duties on top of a work schedule.

"Blimey! You've gotten tall!"

Ron did a double take. Last time he'd seen Charlie, he'd been far shorter. Now, he was taller by several centimeters.

"That's what happens when you go away for so long," Ron said lightly.

Charlie ruffled Ron's hair. "Where's the rest of the crew?"

"Dunno. Fred and George were sitting up with Lee and Ginny was with her Quidditch friends."

"Well, see if you can spot them, then."

Ron craned his neck, and eventually waved his siblings over. George's left eyebrow was mysteriously singed, and Ron wisely didn't comment on it.

"Alright," Charlie said as he led them to the Flooport, "We'll be Floo-ing back to the Burrow. I haven't been home yet, and Percy and Bill are still at work, but we'll do some sort of family dinner tonight."

"I hope there's food at home," Ginny grumbled. "I'm starving."

"Didn't you eat on the train?"

"No. I didn't have any money for snacks."

Charlie looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I've got money for the Floo; let's head to the Burrow."

Charlie paid a Knut for each of them, and Ron stepped into the Floo with his trunk. "The Burrow!" After a dizzying whirl of green, Ron landed in the living room and sneezed. It was dusty, which wasn't unusual.

Things hadn't always been that way. Ron could remember when the Burrow was always clean, and the kitchen filled with the smell of freshly baked bread. It seemed like forever ago, and almost like he'd just been a dumb little child misremembering things.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Ron jumped. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"Well, yeah. Something bothering you?"

Ron sneezed again. "No." He could hear the lie in his voice, but Charlie luckily ignored it.

"It's bloody dusty in here; I can fix that at least." Charlie flicked his wand, and dust cleared from the living room furniture as Ginny, Fred, and George tumbled out of the Floo. "It's a mite chilly, too, looks like Mum forgot to renew the Heating Charms. I'll work on that while you lot go put your trunks upstairs, then we can wait for Bill and Percy. Also, let me know if you see Mum."

Ron clomped his way upstairs, surprised that Mum hadn't come into the living room yet. Even at her most listless, she was usually eager to see them. Ron mentally shrugged. Maybe she was napping. The house was quite chilly, and snuggling underneath a fluffy homemade quilt with a hot mug of tea was sounding like a better and better idea.

Ron stowed his trunk in his room, and made his way back to the living room where Charlie had succeeded in restoring the Heating Charm.

"Hey, look! The chessboard is still out - d'you want to play a game?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Not right now," Charlie said, prodding something with his wand. "I want to make sure I fixed this Heating Charm right. It's back on, but I don't want it to overheat the place. Why don't you ask Fred or George?"

"They won't play with me anymore."

"How come?"

"...I might win too much."

"Yeah? You kept up with chess? I remember you winning a bunch when you were younger."

"I do, yeah. I'm in the Slytherin Chess Society, so that's been fun. We usually just play

against each other or against the Ravenclaws but we're having a big tournament this year, since we have a bunch of good chess players from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang visiting. Palin - Palin Patil -" Ron clarified "He's the club chair. He wants a bunch of us to go to the chess tournament at Olympus over the summer, but it's expensive, so I don't think I'll go."

"You should go do something fun over the summer."

"I did something fun last summer! The chess tournament would be fun, but it's just too much money and besides, it's the premier tournament on the Continent, so I probably wouldn't do well anyway."

"Alright. I mean, I'm sure me 'n Bill 'n Percy could help you out a bit with the cost…"

"It's fine."

Charlie opened his mouth to reply, and Ginny entered the room. "When're Bill and Percy going to get here?"

Charlie checked his watch. "Next few minutes, I think, so long as they aren't kept long at work."

"Is there anything to eat? I'm hungry."

"I dunno. I didn't stop by here before meeting you lot at the platform. Go check in the kitchen."

Ginny huffed. "Okay."

"Did you see Mum upstairs?"

"Nope," Ginny called over her shoulder. "I didn't look. Make Ron go do it."

"Ginny…"

"Going to get a snack!" Ginny yelled back. "I'm busy!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me. She gets more annoying each year."

A bloodcurdling scream split the air just as the Floo roared green. Bill stepped out, wand immediately in his hand. "What in the holy name of Merlin!?"

Ron's wand was suddenly in his hand as well, and the scream sounded again. Ron's heart thumped in his chest. "Ginny!"

He rushed towards the kitchen, Bill and Charlie in quick pursuit. Ron sprinted through the doorway, then froze. His stomach heaved, and bile burned in his throat. Ginny collapsed into a pile on the floor, eyes wide and staring as her chest heaved with silent sobs. All Ron wanted to do was look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Mum.

She was hanging from the ceiling.

It looked like she'd been dead for a while.

The smell alone was horrendous, but the fat black flies whizzing around Mum's face sent Ron heaving into a rubbish bin. His brain was working in short, jagged steps as the cauldron cake he'd eaten on the train made a reappearance.

Mum is dead.

It rang hollowly inside his head as the corners of his eyes started to prick. He stopped retching, and an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him away from the kitchen. Ron's nose started to feel hot and tingly, and his lower lip trembled as he tried in vain not to cry. He scarcely paid attention to where his feet were carrying him until Bill guided him into a chair, placing a glass of water on the table next to him.

Bill looked like he was going to cry too, and Bill was the toughest wizard Ron knew. "It's okay to cry, Ron," Bill said huskily. "You don't need to hold it in."

Ron stared at Bill for a moment, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. Bill just looked back, tension around his eyes as his Adam's apple twitched. He looked like he was trying to hold back tears too, and something about Ron's oldest brother almost crying broke him. Hot tears ran down Ron's face as choked sobs escaped him.

Bill pulled him into a hug, and Ron buried his face into Bill's shoulder as he cried harder. A nasty voice in the back of his mind tried to tell him that only weak stupid people cried, but Ron ignored it. His mum was dead.

After what felt like a small eternity, Ron's sobs turned into hiccups, then vanished. He wiped his eyes and straightened up. At some point in time, Percy had made his way back. He looked deathly pale, and Charlie had a firm hand clasped on his shoulder. Fred, George, and Ginny were piled on the couch, Ginny crying into Fred's shoulder while George stared off into the distance, face completely blank.

Bill roughly wiped his eyes on his sleeve and swallowed. "Someone…" He cleared his throat, then tried again. "Someone needs to Floo the Aurors. And we're going to need to find another place for the kids to stay. My flat should be big enough for everyone, if we transfigure the sofa."

"I've got a sofa as well," Percy said, still looking shaky. "I can also stay with my girlfriend and someone else can have my bed."

Bill shook his head. "We should stay together, Percy. I can sleep on the floor if we need - I know a good Cushioning Charm."

Percy nodded, and Ginny sniffled.

Bill ran a hand through his hair. "I'll Floo the Aurors. Charlie, Percy, if you could bring everyone into the other room…"

Percy and Charlie quickly ushered the rest of them into the back room, and Ron blindly went where his feet led him. Something made him pause as he left the living room. He turned around, seemingly unbidden, as Bill dropped to his knees in front of the Floo.

Ron had never seen someone look so broken.

Minerva McGonagall's Personal Quarters

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

24 December 1994

Minerva poured herself several fingers of scotch, quickly downed it, then turned her gaze to the bottle. It really was a scotch meant to be savoured. Sighing, Minerva placed the bottle in the cabinet, and withdrew a cheap bottle of firewhiskey. She contemplated the glass for a moment, then unscrewed the cap and took a long sip from the bottle.

Minerva grimaced. It really was as cheap as she'd remembered.

She usually wasn't one to drink, especially not cheap whiskey. She'd put the occasional finger of whiskey into her tea if the students were particularly moronic, but those days were few and far between. Besides, Minerva was a woman of patience.

There were some things, however, that were too much to bear without copious amounts of alcohol. Politics was one of them. She'd been relieved when her older brother, Moray, had a son, and she'd been beyond delighted when Graeme had children. Minerva was proud to have her three grandnephews and her grandniece in Gryffindor, and she was even prouder of their successes. Personal bias aside, Euan and Jamie had both been standout choices for prefects, Lennox was one of the few second years selected to play in the Quidditch tournament, and Maisie was a top member of the Gobstones team.

Minerva would do anything to keep them safe, hence the alcohol.

Minerva wasn't the sort of witch who put a lot of stock in Divination. It was a very wooly subject, and she strongly believed everyone had the chance to govern their own fate, with the exception of prophecies, which were notoriously slippery things. Minerva didn't always believe in Fate, but she did believe in her own sixth sense. It was a tingling behind her left shoulder, and a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something wasn't right. She first noticed it when she mastered the Animagus transformation, and it stuck with her ever since.

The sense of wrong had grown more persistent over the past few months, and Albus' request to reach out to old Order members hadn't sat right. Albus was hiding something, and between the probable Ascension of Runcorn and Rookwood, Minerva almost didn't want to know what new horror lay on the horizon.

Minerva summoned a quill and parchment, and took another sip of whiskey. She was rightfully pissed off about the Ascension. Scottish and Irish families were incredibly underrepresented in the House of Lords, and still, English families kept pushing more of their own forward. The MacMillans were the only Scottish family represented in the House of Lords despite the fact that the McGonagalls were a far older lineage, stretching back to when Scotland was still a collection of small kingdoms.

Minerva dipped her quill in ink, and began to write in Gaelic.

Dear Moray,

I write to deliver words of warning. Albus requested that I reach out to former Order members, and I fear that an old threat will loom once again, especially given the likely Ascension of Rookwood and Runcorn. If they succeed, then the Blood Purists and Traditionalists will gain a stronger advantage in the House of Lords. If you look at it rightfully, we ought to Ascend alongside either the Connolly Clan or the Moody Clan to rebalance Wizengamot power and increase the Scottish and Irish representation. Meet with Archibald MacMillan and owl Aengus Moran. Perhaps we can organize enough last minute support to prevent the rise of Rookwood and Runcorn. If not, I fear the worse will pass, especially with our old enemy likely on the rise.

Call a meeting of the Trifecta. Should the worst come to pass, Beira's children will need to hold the north.

All my love,

Minerva

Minerva sealed the letter with a whispered charm, and attached it to her owl. Lips pursed, Minerva watched it leave. "May Beira watch over you," she murmured. "And may Wodin guide your path."

A/N: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! The next few updates might be a little slower since there's a lot of content and six more planned chapters for this volume, plus I have to finish planning the details of volume five.

Luckily, if you're looking for more things to read, I have two other WIPs - Purple Like Violets, which is my take on the Pureblood!Hermione trope and Requiem, which is a dystopian, Hunger Games-esque take on Voldemort winning the first wizarding war.

Stay safe and healthy!