AN: You, as readers, are in a very unique position: you get to know what's going on in different character's heads and lives at different points in time. It's not everyone at all times, but you're privy to much more than the individual characters are, and that limitation on their knowledge comes into play here.
With so many things to work in without everyone knowing what's going on, I'm attempting something new in this chapter. Rather than having large breaks mid-scene when the point-of-view changes, this chapter will simply slide into the new point-of-view as it shifts to follow that new character. In a visual medium this would be accomplished by the camera panning away from one person to follow another in one continuous shot, and it's that feel I'm going for here.
That said, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to teedub, whose interest in Lichfield's background influenced the way certain things in this played out.
.o0O0o.
"Pansy?" Hermione asked beside him. "What are you doing here?"
Harry was wondering that as well. He didn't know much about Draco's little on-again off-again female follower, but what he did know he didn't like.
"I could ask you the same thing, Granger," the pug-faced Slytherin girl scornfully shot back. "At least I belong here. Potter may look at least half-and-half now," Pansy said giving him a brief glance, "but you might as well carry a sign saying 'I'm a muggle.' But if you must know," the girl said self-importantly, "I'm here to see Draco."
"Well don't let us keep you," Harry said, eager to move the rude girl on her way.
"Yes, don't you have a bathroom you should be skulking in?" Hermione said curiously.
Pansy gave a most Draco-like smirk in response before heading for the stairs; once she was gone he turned to Hermione.
"What was the bathroom comment about?" he asked.
"She and some of her friends paid me a visit last year after we had become friends," she replied with a perturbed look on her face. "She didn't think I was worthy of the honor."
"You're plenty worthy," Harry said bracingly. "If anything, I'm the one who's lacking."
"You jumped on a troll for me," she said as if she really shouldn't have to keep reminding him.
"Yeah, but you set Snape on fire," he reminded her.
Hermione already had her mouth open for another rebuttal but in the end closed it with a bit of a pleased smile.
"That's true," she said.
It was certainly something he'd never do. No matter how tempting it was to burn Snape alive, Madam Pomfrey would only fix him up and he'd come back for revenge.
"Why didn't you ever say anything about Pansy?"
"And tell everyone I was jumped by a troll twice in the same bathroom? I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction," Hermione ended with the stuffy way she had when she wanted to imply that something didn't bother her.
"I wonder what she's here to see Draco for," he said, wondering what the odds were of avoiding the blond ponce and if it had anything to do with Dobby's warning.
"I don't want to know," she said, holding her hands out in front of her as if to ward off something unpleasant. It didn't seem to help as she suddenly shut her eyes and shook her head.
Harry chuckled; apparently she was of two minds when it came to snakes. Speaking like Slytherin might be fine in her book but speaking to a Slytherin was too horrifying to think about. Perhaps to put all that behind her, she made her way over to the barman to ask where to find Professor McGonagall.
"I'd say you'd meet her right about there," the gap-toothed man said as he pointed to the base of the stairs. His finger then flicked upwards to point at the teacher in question at the top of them, wearing her typical tartan.
"Ah, there you are, Mister Potter," the transfiguration professor said as she made her way downstairs. True to the barman's estimate they met at the bottom. "Miss Granger, I wasn't expecting to see you here," the woman said with a look saying the surprise was a nice one.
"We were doing our shopping together and Harry invited me along," Hermione said pleasantly as she took his arm.
While normally her doing that was nice, this time it made him feel like he was doing something he shouldn't be. Then again, McGonagall had the uncanny ability to make you remember everything you had ever done wrong in the first place so it could just be that. The other possibility was how it was already getting started by greatly overstating his role in things.
"That's better than following him into detention," McGonagall replied with a look down at them which silently hoped there wouldn't be a repeat of last year when they had been caught out of bed after slipping Hagrid's newest pet, Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback, out of Hogwarts in the dead of night. Harry was still glad she didn't know the real reason for it or she'd roast them both alive, summer break or not.
"There should be plenty of food to go around," McGonagall continued, "though with so many teenage boys it's hard to say if there'll be anything left by the time we get there," she said with a look at Harry as if he was suddenly going to start eating as much as three people combined. "Some of the older students and graduates couldn't attend, but almost everyone else is here."
"How many people are there?" Harry asked.
"Some of the younger ones have parents with them," McGonagall replied "but if you're asking about the Hopefuls program as a whole, there are four graduates, fourteen current students, and three prospective students – including Miss Weasley, who couldn't attend."
Harry hadn't known Ginny had been invited let alone been kept home because he had asked Molly to try to keep her away from him. It had seemed a good idea at the time when all she was doing was sulking and constantly staring at him but now it seemed a really big price to pay just for her to go to school.
Who knows, if she had come she might've actually made some friends and forgotten about him, even if it meant her being in the same room as Hermione for a while. That self-disgusted squirmy feeling in his stomach told him he'd have to find some way to make it up to her, without getting her hopes up and stringing her along. But how was he even supposed to do that?
Hermione had been thinking of something else entirely though. "Harry's been paying for twenty-one people to go to Hogwarts?" Perhaps sensing a bad turn in the conversation, McGonagall had given her wand a flick before Hermione was even halfway through her appalled realization.
Before their professor could respond, something clicked in his mind.
"The transfer to the Hopefuls we stopped was for twenty-one years of tuition," Harry remembered. "My rent at the Burrow is covering Ginny's for this year, but what are the rest of them going to do?"
"That's still too much, Harry," Hermione interjected. "You don't have to pay for people who've already graduated, so that transfer was for way more than what they'd need – unless…" her eyes popped and she stopped, staring at McGonagall as if she couldn't believe what her brain was telling her.
McGonagall sighed and seemed to gather herself for a moment.
"The Hogwarts Hopefuls was designed to be a substantial investment in a child's future, that's why so many of the students selected feel indebted to us and strive to repay the investment in whatever way they can," she explained. "The reason for that is because the Hopefuls program doesn't pay for one year at a time, but for all seven years at once."
Harry felt a large lead weight land in his stomach and squash that squirmy feeling from before. He'd thought things were bad before but something told him it just got worse.
"That's a hundred and forty-seven years of school!" Hermione said, the look of righteous indignation at flagrant rule-breaking dwarfing anything she had given them last year pointed directly at Professor McGonagall. "One hundred twenty-six of which he's already paid, and he doesn't even know these people. What if they're someone he hates?"
Part of Harry's mind was numb; he had not been expecting a hundred and forty-seven. No wonder Barchoke said the damages would make his head explode and his account balance simply said a lot. Another part of him groaned that once he graduated he'd never get out of the tiny room with a goblin constantly blabbering on about investments, while yet a third maddeningly suggested mentioning he was paying for himself as well, just to see if Hermione would explode all over her favorite professor, but the rest of him thought it probably not the best idea.
This had gotten to be way too much, Harry had decided. Survival instincts said he had to do something.
"Well," he said, turning to Hermione. "If we do end up having twenty kids, at least I know I can pay for them." He must have overshot the mark because his girlfriend's face went directly to utter embarrassment and even McGonagall looked stunned.
"We may not have a castle left standing once you two are done. Merlin help us if you have any children at all," McGonagall said finally, looking forward to a disastrous future beyond them.
"In my position as Deputy Headmistress," she said in a more formal tone once she'd recovered a bit. "I'm not at liberty to make any formal statements on behalf of the school concerning the current state of affairs, so on the topic of these financial concerns, I believe I can only wish you well in your legal proceedings and to say 'good luck'."
Another quick flick sent a bit of a disturbance around them, causing Harry to wonder what that spell had done; kept things secret like a Concealer if his bet was right. That quasi-official pronouncement seemed to be an end of discussion too because she was right, there wasn't anything outrage or talking about it in the Leaky Cauldron could do. This was going to have to be sorted out in court by actual adults.
As they went upstairs Harry found out just how uncomfortable walking with two people could be. McGonagall's stiff walk seemed to say all of this might have been a bad idea and Hermione just seemed glad the older woman wasn't talking about kids any more. Meanwhile, the heavy lead weight in Harry's stomach had melted and congealed into this deepening sense of dread and built up expectations he didn't know if he could live up to, let alone deserve.
More to soothe himself than anything else he poked Hermione's arm. The look she gave him was of such practiced and stunned disbelief he had to assume her dad had seen it more than once, the gesture at McGonagall's back that asked, "You had to say that in front of her?" was all for him though.
Harry chuckled, and though her expression cleared into a bemused smile the angsty feeling returned as soon as they hit the landing. Each step closer they took to the unmarked door in front of them felt like one step closer to the gallows. Harry couldn't explain it; he had been wronged, he was the one who'd been stolen from, he was the one whose money had paid for everyone they were about to see to have gone to school – so why did he feel like such a fraud?
It wasn't until McGonagall started to open the door that Harry realized what it was and he quickly drew Hermione off to one side.
"I don't think I can do this," he said, feeling like he was going to throw up.
"Give us a minute," she said to McGonagall, who was dithering by the door; it was only when it was closed with the professor inside that she turned back to him. "What is it?"
"I can't go in there," Harry said. "I haven't done anything for these people; if anything, I've made it worse."
"What do you mean?"
"Dumbledore stole that money, it's account fraud," he explained. "They're only waiting for us to make our case before they put the money back and collect on the debts. So I haven't paid for anything; if anything, I'm hurting Hogwarts with this. It's the only place I've ever had friends, the only place that's felt like home."
And as quickly as that all memory of the embarrassment from before was gone and Hermione was hugging him again. He didn't deserve those hugs or how good they made him feel. He did enjoy them though and as he buried his face in her hair and returned it she clung on like she was never going to let him go.
"Maybe Hogwarts deserves to be hurt a little, Harry," she said, finally pulling away from him.
"What do you mean?" he asked curiously. Hermione wanting to hurt Hogwarts was about as unthinkable as – well, as her exploding all over Professor McGonagall.
"Dumbledore's been in charge of Hogwarts for more than a generation," Hermione explained, "and the school – the entire wizarding world – has never once doubted his word on anything. You can't put someone in that kind of position and expect them never to take advantage of you, to never abuse that trust. He did, and that will teach all of them to be more skeptical in the future."
"I suppose," Harry said, knowing what Hermione said made sense. He still didn't like being the source of the problem though. 'You're not,' he thought to himself, 'Dumbledore is. All you're doing is telling them about it. They can't get mad at that.'
"You're not worried the goblins will go after the students, are you?" she asked, looking like she was dancing on a knife's edge.
Harry thought for a moment. Barchoke said they weren't interested in going after Hagrid and if all of the students were as hard pressed as the Weasleys then everything he'd learned told him–
"No," he said finally. "They wouldn't go after people who couldn't pay. It'd be the school they'd go after."
"And Hogwarts would have more than enough money to pay what they owe," Hermione explained, calmly centered again. "It's over a thousand years old and one of the richest institutions in the country," she said with all the authority of a book. "The Board of Governors may not like having to pay, but they can. And you needn't worry about the Hopeful's either," she continued as she took his hands and gave them a squeeze.
"The school promised them a full tuition and in our world that would be as binding as any contract, as long as they behave," she said. "You may not end up paying for their schooling but you're still the reason they're going. Once the truth comes out though these people will feel horrible at benefiting this way and meeting them today will let them know you don't hold it against them."
"I guess you're right," he said. It was times like these that Harry was really glad she was around to talk to. None of that would've occurred to him at all, and he actually did feel better.
"Come on," she said, pulling him towards the door. "Let's meet some of these twenty-one kids of yours – and if you mention that again they may be the only kids you ever have," she was quick to add.
As she opened the door, the first thing Hermione noticed was that the meeting room that McGonagall reserved was much brighter than either the bar area or the room she'd slept in last night. If the entire place was like this then the Leaky Cauldron would be a much warmer and welcoming establishment. It was remarkable what proper lighting and wood stain could do for the décor.
The light itself came from a large pair of multi-panel windows looking down on Diagon Alley. Even here the gleaming white bank seemed to overshadow events, which only stiffened her resolve for a no-talking-about-work day today; Harry was anxious enough as it was.
Mr. Lichfield was there of course, deep in conversation with a young red-haired rock star of a man on the far side of the room who could only be Bill Weasley – the fact he was standing by two other red-heads, one of whom was Percy, was completely incidental. Percy's girlfriend was there as well, leading her to wonder if she was there as a Hopeful, a date, or both.
There were four lumbering elephants in the room as well and they were much closer than the Weasleys were. Pansy Parkinson stood with what looked to be half the Slytherin Quidditch team. When they looked over to see who'd just come in though she had to correct herself. All were Slytherins but there were only two Quidditch players, a pair of oafish Beaters she never bothered to learn the names of and another boy who looked to be in the same mold. It looked like things were really hit-and-miss when it came to Hopeful students; she didn't know what Harry would think of this.
"Oh, this is perfect," Pansy said to the other three. "When he gets here he'll probably throw her out of school." The other three goons looked on approvingly.
Lightning-fast connections sparked through her brain and suddenly everything made sense. Hermione couldn't hide the maddeningly excited grin as she led Harry past them and through the rest of the crowd, gripping his arm harder than she intended.
"This is the best day of my life!" she whispered to him as they approached the Weasleys.
"The enchantment has some of the details of a basic protection ward scheme," Lichfield said, gesturing to a parchment in Bill's hands with a triangularly cut corned beef sandwich. "I've never seen one as complex as this though, and there's an odd consanguineous sympathy I've never dealt with before."
"A lot of the Egyptian tombs and temples use consanguinity as an automatic pass key," the ginger headed man said, scrutinizing the parchment. "You have the original?"
"I do," Lichfield said, taking note of them getting close. "Analyzing it in depth could cause problems with the Statute of Secrecy though, so I'm not letting it go, especially since I spent the last hour piecing that together from a memory."
Hermione mused for a moment about the minor differences in language on this side of their divided world. 'From a memory' instead of 'from memory' was certainly peculiar, though not as peculiar as wearing a bathrobe out in public. Thinking back to yesterday though she had to wonder if he meant that he literally went into a memory in order to get it.
"There you two are," Lichfield said as she and Harry joined them. "I was beginning to think I'd have to send search parties."
"Now, now," the oldest Weasley said with a grin as he put the parchment away. "What she and Harry do in a place with so many beds while outside of your supervision is no concern of yours."
"The hell it isn't," Lichfield said with a look.
That was an oddly religious idiom for the wizarding world to have; she hadn't noticed them using it before. By that her mind meant, 'Please don't say it. Please don't say it. Please don't say it – please don't say it!'
"I can't really argue that he's a responsible last of his line if another Potter's on the way before either one of them is old enough to get married."
'Gah! Embarrassment overload,' Hermione thought numbly as she let go of Harry's arm and stepped away from him. 'Warm and cuddly processes shutting down.'
The only upshot was she could practically feel Harry's embarrassment radiating off of him in waves. Perhaps now he could see why you don't mention that sort of thing in public. Hermione hoped everyone got it out of their systems soon so she could just have a normal date with her boyfriend.
"I'd appreciate it if we could hold off on the business talk today," she said with a bit of a tight throat. "Yesterday had quite enough of it."
"But I hadn't even gotten to the part where my supervisor thought I was a homunculus," the man who must be Bill said with spread arms as if he were wounded by not being able to tell the story. "Though if that were true I never would've gotten out of Egypt. Hi," he said, extending his hand to her, "Bill Weasley. You must be Hermione."
"Nice to meet you," she said, wondering why anyone would think he was an artificially created quasi-humanoid with magical powers. The back of her mind had to admit the description was more apt to describe house-elves than anything else. 'Great,' she thought. 'Yet another theory to check up on.' It had been so much easier when she had just seen them as slaves to be freed.
"Percy you know," Bill continued, gesturing to the brother further from him. "And this lump's Charlie," he said, swatting at the back of the red-haired young man next to him and causing him to turn around.
"Wha?" Charlie said with a mouth full of partially-eaten food.
He looked astonishingly like Ron at first blush, though more freckly and with somewhat more defined features. Very stocky for someone who was supposed to have been some legendary Seeker, he had more of the Slytherin Beater look to him that said he was virtually all muscle.
"Can't a guy shallow before he gets dragged into the conversation?" the man groused to his older brother. "A pleasure," Charlie said formally, taking her hand with a polite smile that made him look very different than Ron. "Don't take any of his shit," he said with a nod to Bill, though it too had the air of good friends who'd been separated for too long.
Hermione didn't know how to respond to that.
"What was it you were talking about with an enchantment?" Harry asked Lichfield, bringing up a subject that was quickly becoming a preoccupation for him.
"Sorry," the lawyer said, with an exaggerated look at her. "That's work talk, and I learned long ago not to piss off the Lady-wife. If you'll excuse me, I've got to take care of something."
Lichfield was making it very difficult to know what she thought of him. He had sent Mipsy to her, undoubtedly so she could learn more about house-elves first hand – which she still needed to thank him for – but then had her believe she was working for her too. And then there were the jokes, were they all in fun or were they clever evasions? As bogged down in details as they had been yesterday there was still the sinking suspicion there was a lot more he wasn't telling them.
"Well," Charlie said, brushing off some crumbs from the front of his robe. "Norberta sends her regards."
"Norberta?" Harry asked.
Lester made his way back to the table holding the sandwiches and butterbeer, wondering if he were brave enough to try one of those cheese and onion offerings. Falling in beside McGonagall, he wondered if the boy knew what he was getting himself into. If there was one woman the girl of his was most like it was this one here. Merlin knew trying to keep food orderly with so many people eating was an impossible task, but the wild wizard had obviously neglected to tell her that.
Her hand faltered a bit as she straightened the napkins, telling him she knew he was there. She was still cagey around him, well aware she was guilty of not doing her best and uncomfortable that he knew about it lest he bring it up. It wasn't like they had tumbled into bed or anything though, more like he had found her in a broom cupboard in midst of a Quidditch-fueled snogging.
"So," he said, cutting through the tension. "When's the guilt trip coming?"
"Pardon?" McGonagall asked, as guilty as any First Year he'd ever seen.
"You forget who you're talking to?" Lester said, turning to her. "I've asked around. A couple of these kids are First Years and Harry is Mister Moneybags," he flicked a thumb Harry's way. "The kid doesn't deserve to be guilted into paying for other people. It's not his responsibility."
"I know it's not," the Scot woman said, actually managing to sound torn about what she was planning to do. "And far be it for me to compound the boy's worries by asking him to but I truly have nowhere else to turn," she explained. "Hogwarts has promised them an education and we are honor-bound to live up to it. Every one of the Hogwarts Governors have either flatly said no or given me trifles to clear their conscience."
"What has Albus said about it?" he prompted.
"He's of the opinion that everything will sort itself out so there's no point in worrying," McGonagall said with an exasperated look. "Though if you meant in a higher or more personal capacity, you needn't bother; I haven't asked him. I've seen the way he handles other peoples' money, so as far as I'm concerned he's stolen that position too. And if he had access to anything of his own you haven't already seized, I still wouldn't take it from him."
"That's good to hear, coming from the Deputy Headmistress," Lester said thoughtfully. 'Things might work out after all,' he thought. "You haven't gone to the public though," he noticed aloud. "Trying to keep things as secret as I am?"
"If I can help it, yes," she said after waiting for one of those young people to grab something and wander off. "Mister Potter's involvement with the Weasleys has changed their position at home, even if temporarily, so it eases my conscience about rescinding the offer to Miss Weasley. Mister Creevey and Miss Lovegood are a different matter though," McGonagall went on to say. "Their circumstances haven't changed and it wouldn't be right to put one above the other. If I pick one then I'm choosing a boy above a girl and if I choose the other it's a pureblood above a muggleborn."
"They prefer 'person of non-magical heritage' – if you have to mention the heritage at all that is," Lichfield interjected. "They think muggle is demeaning; but I see the tricky position you're in."
"Tricky or not, if I don't find a solution soon I either have to go back on our word to both of them or appeal to the public for their generosity. Regardless," she said with a sigh, "the program itself can't continue, not once what he's done is made public."
'And that will be soon,' Lester thought. Something she had said was nagging at him though. "Lovegood, that name sounds familiar. Why is that?"
"The girl's father, Xenophilius, runs a magazine called The Quibbler, though it's gone downhill fast since his wife's death," McGonagall informed him. "It's not too far from the Weasleys so I thought they might be one of yours."
Lester shook his head, they didn't have anyone by that name; at least they didn't when he'd known them all personally. "The Weasleys are on the edge of that bit of land; one of the free-holdings then. You said the wife was dead? What did she do?"
"She was the brains behind The Quibbler," she said with an odd mixture of frustration and admiration. "She was the reason they got the name. Pandora loved to pick holes in everything: proposed legislation, the current state of international affairs, the latest edition of Transfiguration Today… I once had an article the editor cut down to save space and she lambasted me for it," McGonagall said with a furrowed brow. "All of her criticisms were true, of course, the subjects she raised really were short-changed, though there was no way she could know my original draft had addressed them."
Pandora, what a horribly chosen name. Lester remembered her now; dirty blonde hair and remarkably sharp eyes for scrutinizing everything. She had been of the opinion they had done something wrong and that was why everyone had died; like some corrected calculation could bring everyone back.
"She was a researcher of some kind, wasn't she?" he asked, already knowing the answer and hoping to be proven wrong.
"I believe so, when she wasn't writing, that is," McGonagall said, still hung up on the ancient barb. "It's tragic, really. There are precious few brave enough to chance something new after what happened with you, only to have her die unexpectedly."
"I met her," Lester admitted finally. "She came by a couple times to pick my brain about what happened back then and why. I thought she was writing a history, I didn't think she'd go meddling with things that shouldn't be meddled with."
"You don't mean," McGonagall said, making the horrible connection, "that she became one of the Lost?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if she did," Lester nodded. 'The Lost Generation,' he thought derisively, 'an overly romantic way of looking at things. They weren't lost and wandering around somewhere, they were dead.'
"At times I feel sorry for you lot who are left," she admitted, "though sometimes I'm relieved I was never asked to join you."
"You were safe," he told her. "You were always a bit of a prig."
"I was a Prefect," she said defensively. "It's a Prefect's job to be a prig."
"Which is why you were never our friend," Lester said. "No one wants a Prefect from back when they were First Years to join their revolution; it just puts a damper on things. Besides, you were already back at Hogwarts by the time we got started," he continued. "Either way, you're here today and it's a horrible way to die."
"The girl said she saw it," Minerva said to herself.
Lester felt punched in the gut, so much for trying to avoid the issue. Watching someone you love grow old was something was supposed to be done over the course of decades, not in the span of hours or days – or seconds as it was with Constance. The sight still gave him nightmares at times.
"How'd the husband take it?" he asked.
Not well, he was willing to bet. She and Lester had both known what was likely to happen when they destroyed their fiendish little devices. Constance would lose the child, they had known that, but delaying on her part would make the chance of death a near certainty, and perhaps they could have another if it hadn't aged them too much. His doing; it was all his doing.
"He's… coping, I think," Minerva said with a glance off to one side to a man in bright yellow robes. "But I don't know how well. If it wasn't for the girl I think he might have well and truly cracked. As it is, his… eccentricity is growing by leaps and bounds, and with him having a printing press–"
"–There'd be a risk to Secrecy," he finished for her. "Have you told the Ministry?"
"There's the girl to think of," she said with a shake of her head. "You know there's no support for children in need besides other family members, and she doesn't have any. Albus, for all his faults, has tried more than once to get them to do something but they simply refuse to consider it."
"If the Founders didn't do it then why should they?" Lester mocked. It was a stupid reason not to do anything. Most of the magic they could do today had never been dreamed of when the Founders had lived. "I'll come up with something."
Trying to divert himself from diving into a funk by doing something productive he said, "Check your books when you get a chance, there should be a tuition already paid under the name of Constance Lichfield – this was thirty-five years ago or more. I'm not going to be using it and it should be used for something good instead of just sitting there."
He nodded as he continued, a plan forming in his head.
"I could probably get him to sign something, thinking I mean to invest, using her tuition in lieu of hard currency, and slip in a provision that he have regular sessions with a Mind Healer – just to make sure he isn't unduly affected by muggle radial lazy beams or something," Lester finished with a wave.
"He would buy that, and it would certainly take care of her schooling – leaving me free to use what I have to see to Mister Creevey," McGonagall said, putting the pieces together. "It would only be for the year, but it may be enough to let his parents get their affairs in order or look into other options."
Minerva had a pleasant smile then. The older woman had never been his type but maybe the boy wasn't so crazy after all. Lester glanced at Harry before continuing.
"You know," he said slyly as he reached into his sleeve pocket, "a Deputy Head should be thinking more long-term than just the immediate concerns of the school. If you really wanted to get in good with some of the rich alumni, you might want to make sure they have pleasant memories of their time at Hogwarts. Now I have here a series of letters, written as bailiff on behalf of the Potter Estate…"
Pulling out the letters in question, Lester glanced at them before handing them over.
"This one's a cease and desist order telling Hogwarts to stop recognizing Albus Dumbledore as the boy's guardian in any way," he told McGonagall as her eyes grew. How she hadn't seen this coming he didn't know. "He's also not to have any contact with the boy. I've lied and told him the old man stands to inherit should anything happen to him – just to put him on his guard," Lester confided, "but you can never be too careful.
"As Deputy Head, you have to see that the current Headmaster has a conflict of interest with that one," he went on to say before passing her the next one. "This one should help clear your mind though, it authorizes the boy's Head of House to be the final arbiter for any punishments, detentions, or any other school-related matter having to do with him while the legal process is ongoing," Lester smiled.
The stunned Scot blinked at him like an overstuffed owl.
"It's still Hogwarts custom to arrange Hogsmeade weekends to take advantage of holidays, isn't it?" he asked quickly, seeming to change the topic.
"The schedule hasn't been finalized, but yes, it's still the custom. Why?" the confused and buffeted Deputy Headmistress asked.
"It just occurs to me this coming Halloween is on a Saturday," Lester said with a shrug, as if it were an idle thought before extending a third letter to her. "Now this one states that although our assertion is that Harry is independent, as his litigator, bailiff, and the closest thing the boy has to a de facto guardian, I am authorizing Hogwarts to extend the privilege–"
"–Of Hogsmeade visits to him a year early," McGonagall finished for him, finally catching up.
"It was just a thought," Lester said nebulously. "The school is rather indebted to him and Halloweens haven't been particularly pleasant for the boy, as I recall. Oh! I almost forgot," he said, reaching back into his pocket for another letter. "This one informs Hogwarts that I am the legal representative of Miss Hermione Granger as well."
Minerva gave him a look as if she didn't know whether to comply or send him to detention, so he knew his job was done.
"Now what can you tell me of these onion things?" Lester said, pointing to the odd sandwiches.
"Eat it," McGonagall said as she put the letters away up her sleeve. "They won't kill you. I've got to get things started."
Lester took a sandwich and made his way back to the kids before the woman could change her mind and poison him.
"But if you're back in the country anyway," stocky Charlie was saying to Bill, "you can use my room and just take it for me, that way I don't have to see mum."
"There's no way I'm moving back in there; I just got my stuff out," the older brother said with a flip of his ponytail. "And you can't honestly think you can be in the country and not pay her a visit. All she has to do is look at the clock between now and then to see how Percy is and she'll know her darling Charlie-kins skipped off without ever seeing her," his brother said mournfully, laying it on rather thick.
"I – saw – her – at – Christmas!" the frustrated young man gruffed, causing Hermione to pause once again in her conversation with Percy and Penelope as laughter threatened to escape. The third red-headed Weasley looked horribly embarrassed at the portrayal of his mother in front of his girlfriend and seemed to be debating whether it'd be better to never think about dating again.
Perhaps comically poking fun at her own change in relationship status before anyone else had the chance to would help settle things down when she and Harry first came in contact with people they hadn't seen in a while; Fred and George specifically? It was so far afield for her though that Hermione doubted she'd be able to do it right, especially without possibly seeming mean to Harry, so in the end she ditched the idea.
"She kept trying to get me to move home, set me up with my coworkers, and moaning about grandchildren," the dragon-keeper continued. "I preferred it when she found something objectionable and tried to run our girlfriends off."
"You should do what I'd do then," Bill said sagely. "Find a French bird and say you're engaged. That'd really make her go nuts."
All thoughts of resuming her talk with the Prefects about the alternative Defense book list they had come up with were foiled as Mr. Lichfield poked the back of Harry's head, attracting everyone's attention as he gestured to the center of the room behind him.
"The stands are packed and the referee's waiting," he said meaningfully, though what the meaning was certainly wasn't what Hermione'd call clear. A Quidditch reference, obviously, perhaps saying that everyone was waiting on them? Just how many new idioms was she going to have to learn?
She felt Harry tighten up beside her; he really didn't like all this attention, be it deserved or not. Hermione rubbed her hand along his back supportively to help him relax… and to give him a bit of a push if she needed to if his feet stopped working in the next minute or so. She might not be able to get him away from the attention all of the time but that only made the time spent with her all the more important if she could find a way for him to decompress and relax.
"Attention please," Professor McGonagall said, trying to politely cut through the din of conversation with just the right mixture of propriety and informality. "I apologize for the bit of a late start, but I think everyone's here that's coming."
Hermione couldn't help but glance over to Pansy and the other Slytherins. Harry hadn't said anything about them yet but her mind had been preoccupied with almost nothing but. The boys were still undisturbed but as time had passed Pug-nose Pansy had become increasingly concerned, repeatedly checking her watch and scanning the room to make sure she hadn't missed anyone.
'Where was dear Drakey-poo?' she could almost hear the girl think. 'Whatever could be keeping my darling dragon from me?'
Hermione desperately tried to keep the smile off her face as she waited for the hammer to fall.
"Now as you all know," McGonagall intoned, sounding so much like she did when she explained the four Hogwarts Houses to them last year. "The Hogwarts Hopefuls was established nearly ten years ago, at the end of a grisly Wizarding War," she said somberly. "It was hoped that by extending our hand in friendship to those in need that we'd be helping to create a more hopeful future for us all."
That tempered Hermione's enthusiasm a bit. No matter how deplorably it had been brought about, it was a noble goal. Glancing over at the Slytherins almost made it seem like the professor was trying to reach out to a tribe of tiny trolls; they all had peculiar looks on their faces like they had never even considered why their schooling had been gifted to them in the first place. All but Pansy, of course, who kept shooting looks at the door.
"For many years," McGonagall continued, "graduating Hopefuls have written to me asking for ways they could get in contact and personally thank those responsible for giving them their chance at an education, and for years I have had nothing to tell them, for I didn't know."
Seeing the professor's glance flicker over to them, Hermione rubbed Harry's tense back again, knowing the room's attention was about to suddenly shift to him.
"The anonymous benefactor who's been the source of our funds has now been identified, and he has graciously agreed to be here today," McGonagall said, causing Pansy to look at the door again.
Bill, though, took a page from Mr. Lichfield's book and poked the back of Harry's head. The mild curiosity on the older boy's face when he looked back at him said he thought the solution was obvious. Harry shrugged, causing Bill to shake his head and smile like he should've known all along. That did more to relax Harry than anything else.
"I'd like all of you to give a warm welcome to Mister Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall finished with a smile gesturing to the resident celebrity.
In that moment, when almost every face in the room visibly brightened at the same time, Hermione almost forgot to look at Pansy. She glanced over just in time to see the girl's mouth fall to the floor like a concussed fish. The older Slytherins all looked at Pansy like all of this was somehow her fault.
As the people nearest to Harry started to form a queue – meaning she wouldn't have to push him out after all – Hermione saw the two Beaters head for the door, only to turn back when their friend didn't join them. By that point Bill had started his story about how he was the first Hopeful and how Charlie almost didn't make it.
"C'mon, Cassius," one of the Beaters said, shooting McGonagall a distrusting look.
The boy named Cassius lingered uncertainly for a moment before he joined them too, leaving Pansy quite alone.
"It can't be," Pug-nose said, still at a loss to understand what's happened. "It was the Malfoys," she almost pleaded, "they were the ones–"
"Whatever made you think it was the Malfoys?" McGonagall asked, sending Pansy a curious look to say she really should consider the sources.
"There were... negotiations," Pansy said tearfully before her face crumpled completely and she fled from the room crying.
She didn't know what sort of 'negotiations' would've been worth crying over, but it wasn't like anyone would be signing international treaties to secure a child's schooling. Either way, Hermione hadn't expected that, and it actually made her feel a little sorry for the other girl. Was it possible she had actually cared for the ignorant little toerag?
Harry looked at her questioningly as Gryffindor Fourth Year, Kenneth Towler, made way for Oliver Rivers and his mother; Oliver being in their year but in Hufflepuff. Hermione wished she knew what to tell him. Either Draco had been behind it by lying to her somehow or Pansy had invented a fairy tale for herself and miscast the slimy Slytherin in the role of Prince Charming.
If the unfortunately-faced girl had ever been just the tiniest bit nicer then she might have run after her to make sure she was okay. As it was, it was much more pleasant to rub Harry's back again as a Third Year Ravenclaw, Marietta Edgecombe, and her mother came forward to shake his hand and thank him for what he's done for them while Percy and Penelope went off to find Professor McGonagall.
He may not think he deserves all the attention they're giving him, but perhaps they weren't doing it for his benefit, but for theirs. It occurred to her that maybe they simply needed someone outside their own desperate situation to thank when things go right, and pin all their hopes on when they're not, and the default for so many years now had been Harry. It certainly placed him in the same easily-abused position Dumbledore occupied to easily sway the minds of other people, but she also knew Harry wasn't like that – and not just because he had seen first hand what a person like that can cause if they want to. Her boyfriend was simply better than that, and that made her smile.
As the Edgecombes edged away to give Marietta's housemate, Eddie Carmichael, room at the front of the queue, Hermione's eyes chanced upon a brightly-colored yet somewhat despondent-looking father-daughter pair sitting on the other side of the room chatting to each other. As she wondered if this was one of the 'prospective' students which hadn't been funded, she debated going over there to see if there was anything she could do for them. What stopped her was Mr. Lichfield already moving that way.
As the bustle of the room grew and the buzz of conversation changed to how Harry Potter had chanced to change their lives yet again, Lester judged the time was right to get on with it. Slipping away from the others, he made his way through the crowd towards the outlandishly-dressed Lovegoods Minerva had mentioned earlier. Seeing her corralled off to one side by two young priggish sprigs made him smile; you really do reap what you sow.
"A very good idea, Mister Weasley," the Scottish prig said to her little prig sprites. "I've been having those same concerns myself, Miss Clearwater, but was at a loss on how to address them. I think it shows great promise. It means a great deal of responsibility, considering you're starting N.E.W.T.-level coursework this year, but can I rely upon you two to be our Student Leaders?"
"Certainly," the eager young witch said without a second thought.
"Absolutely, professor. You can count on us," the Third Weasley said pompously, as if the Head Boy badge already weighed down his lapel.
Following her suggestion, she and Percy made their way back to his brothers. Having already passed their N.E.W.T.s they could be a goldmine of useful information, and if they were going to do a thing then they were going to do their best.
Penelope was very excited at the new prospects before her. She'd been having her doubts about how they would last in the long-run; Percy was the very definition of 'all work and no play' and she had the slight fear he was only dating her because higher ups in the Ministry were all supposed to be decent, respectable, family man kind of men.
Perhaps this study group was just the thing though. Giving him something practical and rewarding to do, where he had to interact kindly with real people who were having difficulty, instead of fixating so hard on becoming Head Boy and using it as a launching pad towards Minister of Magic may be just what Percy needed. Though she cautioned herself not to expect miracles she couldn't help but smile, they did live in a world of magic after all.
As Sophie Roper and her father made way for the next person in line, Hermione received quite a shock – or rather Harry did when he was bonked on the head.
"Why didn't you tell anyone you were funding the Hopefuls?" the new girl asked with an odd look on her face. It was Katie Bell, the Gryffindor Chaser from a year above them; she hadn't even seen her there.
"Er – I didn't know," Harry said honestly as he rubbed his head, drawing a skeptical look from the girl.
Instantly Hermione felt a spike of fear and uncertainty as a horrible realization occurred to her. Here was a girl Harry actually knew, had spent hours playing Quidditch with, and had even changed clothes in the same locker room several times. Katie could understand the sports-loving, more relaxed side of him better than she would. She'd always been the one to harp on him about studying, why would he want to be with her when he could have fun with Katie?
Hermione took a breath and tried to calm herself. If Katie had been interested in Harry she could have said something a hundred times by now. 'Yes, but that was before she knew he had literally changed her life,' that fearful part of her said.
"Friend of yours Harry?" Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow as Bill was drawn into another conversation off to the side. "Or should I rough her up a bit and stick her head in the toilet?"
Katie's eyes popped at that, but not for the reason she thought they would.
"You're Charlie Weasley," the girl said excitedly, completely ignoring Harry. "I remember you from first year."
"Nope, you must be mistaken," Charlie said at once. "I'd remember being in the same year as someone as short as you."
"What? No, I meant my first year," Katie clarified. "I've heard all about you from Fred and George. Is it true you went for dragons instead of Quidditch? Everyone was sure you'd play for England..."
It was a much more relaxed Hermione who sighed in relief as Katie went on to hog the attention of one of her Quidditch heroes – at least until a tiny explosion of light blinded her with a brilliant flash.
"All right, Harry? I'm Colin – Colin Creevey," Hermione heard as she tried to blink the after-image away so she could see again. "Professor McGonagall just said I made it in, isn't it great? I hope to be in Gryffindor too."
"That's – that's great Colin," the purplish-white blob obscuring Harry's face said as he seemed to be recovering too.
Thinking this would be a good opportunity to stretch her legs, and for Harry to branch out and make new friends, Hermione abandoned her boyfriend before the excitable new boy could blind her permanently with the antique camera he had. Remembering what Harry had said about never knowing when you'd get your next meal, she stopped by the refreshment table to help herself to a ham and cheese sandwich and some wizarding drink called butterbeer.
Looking out of the windows as she ate Hermione was struck by how unremarkable the view was from here. With the windows being such a prominent feature of the room she'd expected something grand, but really it just gave her an awkwardly cramped feeling of being tucked under the eaves. The butterbeer made up for it though; it was really good.
The room was situated directly above the entrance to Diagon Alley, but you couldn't see the back courtyard that led to it, only some of the nearest shop faces and a bit of the street itself as it winded its way below her. There was a slow but steady trickle of people coming and going, including the blonde woman in green they had seen earlier, but still the bony white building of Gringotts jut out over everything.
She wondered if that was supposed to make a statement. It almost seemed to say that no matter what happened, or how prejudiced magical people got, that building would remain and there was no getting rid of it. It was the only bank and with a monopoly like that they'd have an amazing amount of power if they ever chose to use it. Perhaps that's why the goblins had – no matter how violent the history between the two peoples – remained a functional part of society for so long; wizards couldn't cope without them.
Turning from the window, Hermione saw the brightly colored girl again, only this time she was sitting alone picking the lettuce out of a club sandwich and eating the layers in different orders. The lettuce she kept on her knees for some reason; she seemed to be saving it. She glanced around to see where Mr. Lichfield had gone and found him a little ways off talking to the girl's father, leaving the girl completely forgotten.
Dithering, she glanced over to see how Harry was doing. He and Katie seemed to be explaining the basics of Quidditch to the new Hopeful while the Weasleys held a confab. The other girl seemed to be doing most of the talking, if her whooshing hand movements were anything to go by. It was a completely irrational feeling, Hermione knew, but Katie made her nervous. Unbidden, her father's voice bloomed in her mind.
"Hey, if a girl comes off as a sports fan she's liable to get snapped up pretty quick. I've seen it happen." He had meant it to be encouraging, for it to be some way for she and Harry to have something to bond over, but now it was coming back to haunt her.
"If he's honestly looking for a Quidditch witch–," Hermione had said then, "–they're not that hard to find. Half the team is female."
'So much for being so mature,' she thought to herself.
Was this what life was going to be like for her from now on – panicking whenever another girl comes close or Harry wanders out of sight, or was it just something about Katie that did it?
'She's everything I'm not,' Hermione thought, sizing up the other girl. 'She's an outgoing, energetic, sports-loving, sociable girl with access to the tiny-but-possibly-crucial corner of Harry's life that I don't.'
It was then, after Harry answered some question of Colin's, and probably down-playing any role he had in the Quidditch team's success, that his gaze flickered up to hers and he smiled.
'Katie doesn't have that,' she told herself as she returned his smile. 'On paper it looks like she'd make a much better match – but she doesn't have that.'
Setting her butterbeer down and choosing a couple sandwiches at random and an unopened bottle of the sinfully good drink, Hermione quickly walked over to him and handed them over. If left to himself Harry probably wouldn't eat at all.
"I'll be back," she said, giving him a bit of a hug and Katie a pleasant smile.
Hermione didn't wait for a response or follow-up question but immediately returned to the refreshments to reclaim her butterbeer and grab a club sandwich. Katie placed firmly behind her – only the worst sort of girl would make a move on Harry after something like that, and those were the kind of girl Harry would never date – she made her way to the bright but lonely girl with lettuce on her knees.
"Is someone sitting here?" Hermione asked, standing next to the chair the girl's father had occupied. There was always the chance the girl simply didn't want company, so it was always best to be polite.
"I don't see anyone, but I don't suppose that means that no one isn't there," the dishwater blonde replied in a way only a grammarian could decipher. What struck Hermione almost as much as the convoluted speech was the girl's strangely protuberant eyes.
"If you try and find someone," the girl continued, "make sure you give them my apologies. Especially if only you can see them. Invisible people have feelings too."
"Right," Hermione said, feeling like she had suddenly found herself in the deep end of the pool and unable to feel the bottom. She took the seat anyway. "Would you like my lettuce," she asked, "or are you taking it off because you don't like it?"
"Oh, yes please, if you don't mind," the other girl said. "We've had several gurdyroots disappear from our garden lately and think a rogue wolpertinger's nesting somewhere close by. Of course it could be a hornhare or someone's pet jackalope that's run away; they're very quick, you know."
That made Hermione pause for a moment. It wasn't often she was faced with a hole in her knowledge, but this certainly fit.
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with any of those animals," she said finally, handing over her lettuce. "I've read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but haven't seen any mention of them. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."
"Luna Lovegood," the girl introduced herself. "I'm surprised they're not mentioned," Luna said in her vague way. "Daddy says there are loads of creatures that people don't believe exist though. They didn't believe the Lobalug existed until merpeople started using it as a weapon. Of course they may not have thought they were fantastic enough; they're quite common in some areas, though only the hornhare are native to Britain. They're like rabbits but have a tiny horn like a unicorn."
"That's very interesting," she said diplomatically, not sure if the girl was making it up or not; the part about lobalugs was certainly true.
Hermione briefly considered deeming the friend-making experiment a failure and running back to Harry when she saw the woman-in-green slink into the room. Her dislike of the way that woman had looked at Harry had nothing to do with inadequacies at Quidditch. Darting back to him now would only serve to draw the woman's attention to him again when there's a chance he'd go unnoticed in the crowd. Thankfully, Mr. Lichfield was already swooping in to divert the woman.
"So Luna," Hermione said more for polite cover than anything else, "why don't you tell me about yourself?"
The younger girl put a slice of tomato in her mouth and seemed semi-surprised that she was still there.
With the basics of a deal with Xenophilius hammered into place, Lester had to move quickly to haul their chestnuts off the fire as the worst person imaginable slipped casually into the room. Well, second-worst perhaps, but only second to Dumbledore, and it'd be tough to judge since he had actually been wanting to catch up to her today.
Regardless, Rita Skeeter wasn't someone you invited to a children's party unless you wanted a drunken underage orgy of monstrous proportions plastered all over the next Daily Prophet with your name in bold. The look on Minerva's face said that she wasn't expected, leaving him scrambling to figure out how this was going to work. Fortunately he didn't have to, because she had spotted him.
"Well, if it isn't Mister Likefried," the odious woman said with a smirk, making him wonder if she was really that stupid or did it on purpose. "I just came from an interview with our mutual friend, Gilderoy. Did you have anything you wanted to say about what happened yesterday?" she asked with a predatory gleam in her eye.
"Only that I loved your article," he said carefully. The foul woman had a reputation for being very temperamental if you crossed her. "I take it there's going to be a follow-up article?" Lester asked blithely.
"Oh yes," Rita said, her eyes buzzing about the room. "You dispatching such a famous adventurer so handily left many people confused. It's raised all sorts of concerns, of course, not the least of which is his competency for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," she said with a heavy hint.
"Of course he's incompetent," Lester said, catching on to what the woman wanted. "You have to have sense to be competent, and that man doesn't have the sense Merlin gave a goat."
Rita looked at him like she'd just found a sack of someone else's galleons and quickly went to pull out a quill and parchment.
"You hunt me down just for that?" he asked, playing with the lead she gave him to see where it led. "It's a waste of your time, if you ask me."
"Oh, no," she said distractedly. "I was trying to find out something else when I heard about this."
Rita paused for a moment to put an acid-green quill to her mouth and perch it on the parchment she had spelled to float nearby. Her face changed quickly then as she remembered something.
"You work for Gringotts," she said with a semi-seductive smile. "And are an acquaintance of Harry Potter's."
"I do," he said, plucking the quill from the parchment and handing it back to her. "And I am. But you're not going to get anything about either of those from me," Lester said with a smile before he lowered his voice. "I know better than to say anything on the record about something big enough to cause Gringotts to close its doors to outsiders. It's more than my head is worth."
The look on Rita's face told him... Lester wasn't sure actually. Either she understood he wanted to see her alone so they could trade information or she was promising him carnal relations in order to procure what she wanted. More than thirty years a widower had left him so rusty he practically squeaked when he walked and he never really thought that way anymore unless it was to poke fun at someone else. This might be more difficult than he thought.
"I think we could be of use to each other," Lester said, trying to spell everything out more clearly. On second thought though that didn't help matters at all.
"I think there's something you can help me with," he continued. That didn't work either.
"Let's go somewhere we can trade information," Lichfield said bluntly.
.o0O0o.
AN: I've known for ages that Luna would be brought in at this point but to be honest... I was afraid of writing her. She's a character that's so easy to bounce off into clichés with or get totally wrong. That kind of wafting, ephemeral... "Luna-ness" is something that's so hard to pin down. But perhaps that's the point. Many people don't like Luna being portrayed as a broken bird, but really, anyone who sees their mother die right before their eyes (especially the death I describe) is going to have it be an element in the character. I tried to keep as much of that inherent "Luna-ness" intact as possible though because Luna will always be Luna.
Strangely enough, it seems as though Pandora actually is the name of Luna's mother – at least if we choose to go by that bit of post-publication information. I personally dislike the name since it reinforces the idiotic "Naming Seer" idea Rowling came up with to explain why the names of some characters (like Xenophilius) so closely match their personalities or trajectory in life. While I have typically seen her referred to as Selene, in reference to the Greek moon goddess, in the end I went with Pandora since the name and the tale of her tragic end helped to tie things in to Lichfield's past.
As always, thanks for reading.