November 18th, 2013
My dearest, Hermione,
If you haven't already satisfied your incessant curiosity by opening the package accompanying this letter, allow me to explain its contents. If you have, then let me specify.
I won't bore you with the history of magical yarncrafts, if only because most of it is so deeply rooted in pureblood misogyny that those two words should suffice in summary. There are many fascinating tidbits about the sort of magic mothers and wives managed to weave into their creations, which is why myself and the boys included a small tome of handwritten transcriptions. Their family libraries contain ancestral diaries spanning generations, so we put together the most relevant and magically interesting anecdotes we could find for you.
Of course, in spite of all these things, you are in no way obligated to make me something for my birthday (as you told me when I was sixteen, it's nigh impossible to find meaningful gifts for adults anyhow) but I also know you've already made up your mind on the subject.
Do not despair if one yarncraft discipline comes more easily to you than another. If I remember correctly, you'll eventually be proficient in both, though you'll prefer one over the other in time.
We also took the liberty of charming your starting supply of yarns in a similar fashion to your quidditch kit. You and your closest friends will see your true colors, everyone else will see a Gryffindor color palette.
If you run out of supplies or find yourself in need of more tools, let me know. Abraxas will be able to parse together whatever you need with a simple description.
With that out of the way, how was your Hogsmeade trip yesterday? I know Draco was lamenting about having detention with Theodore on his most recent letter to Abraxas. It's nice to know there are others defending your honor in our stead. I never was fond of the Parkinsons, but they seemed to have more decorum during my Hogwarts tenure than at present if a daughter of their house is throwing slurs around outside of private conversation.
Then again, perhaps her boldness stems from envy? Confidence and competence can be rather intimidating at that age, I suppose.
How are classes? Are you keeping up with your assignments and the basic health requirements for functioning humans?
Abraxas and Flynn send their (excessive) regards, as usual. Flynn has recently become obsessed with a new musical. I believe Abraxas mentioned their auditory obsessions in passing when we visited you earlier this year. Theater is especially dear to Flynn, which has resulted in many, many headaches for me over the years. Unfortunately, the CD he's had on repeat the last few days is also to Brax's liking, so they've been absolutely fantastic company.
(Read: I'd quite like to bury them both alive the second work eases up again.)
Be warned, they will absolutely want to watch the DVD release with you next summer. You'll enjoy it, if memory serves, and thus my torment will continue. At least some of the music is tolerable, I suppose. Flynn's been singing one of the songs you'll consider a favorite the entire time I'm writing this. I think I'll take inspiration from the subject matter and transfigure my quill into a flintlock pistol when I'm finished writing.
Magic can heal most bullet wounds, afterall.
Also, you're not suffering any obscurus-reminiscent symptoms? You shouldn't be able to develop another one so long as you're using your magic freely, and classes provide more than enough opportunity for that, nevermind your wandless practice exercises and combative drills with me and the gents in the Room. But if you feel off at all, let me know immediately. False alarms are better than ignored warning signs.
Don't work yourself to death, Dove.
Yours, always,
Tom
November 19th, 2013
"My dearest Tom",
The Prophet wasn't exaggerating about how much time you've spent up against the Wizengamot lately, was it? You sound like you've transcended centuries. Does Pureblood society actually address their formal letters like that? It's amusing coming from you, I admit, but Merlin it must be pretentious when you're trying to do whatever it is you do up at the Ministry. (You still haven't told me what department you work in, only that the Order of Hermes gives you some extra political power behind your ancestral seat in the Wizengamot. Draco had to help me make sense of that one. It all sounds droll and outdated, not that I'm surprised.)
However, you're involved, so I have no doubt that whatever goals you've set for your current political agenda will be accomplished with your usual tenacity.
Thank you for the knitting and crochet supplies! Honestly, Tom, did you make a note of every passing thought I ever shared with you? I was surprised for the briefest moment when barely twelve hours after discovering magical variants of most crafts existed (and that very little was to be found in Hogsmeade relating to them), you send me a beginners set of supplies! Cheek, Mr. Riddle.
I'm not worried about Parkinson. She's clearly lacking sources of joy in her life. (And friends, according to Tracey.) Besides, I've seen her wandwork in classes. She barely makes an effort. There's also reason to believe she has a crush on Draco. If her intelligence rivals Ronald's then she might hate me because she thinks he fancies me.
In short, she's probably just being ridiculous, and thereby isn't worth the energy. Even if it is sweet of Theo and Draco to 'defend my honor'.
Classes are busy and a lot to juggle but I can handle it.
Tell the gents hello for me, please! Aside from Disney films and Mama Mia, I'm not especially versed in musicals. What music does Abraxas like? Mum and Dad always had the radio going when they were home, but I haven't gotten to keep up with new music as much since I started at Hogwarts… Pity muggle technology and magic don't mix. Could you imagine how much easier it'd be to get schoolwork done with headphones and an mp3 player? Or CD players in the dorms, even?
Do not shoot our friends, Tom Riddle. Even if they'll survive it. If you do, I'll be forced to hex you again and you made me promise not to do anything else blatantly life-threatening this year when you brought me back from the hospital.
I'm fine, I think? I don't feel as heavy as I did with the obscurus but midterm exams are stressing me out a bit… I'm excited to see Mum and Dad though! Are you joining us for Christmas at the Malfoys? Sirius only mentioned coordinating with my parents in his last letter. Draco said Flynn will be there too, but no one said what your plans were.
Also – thank you. I feel bad, because I know it's against the rules for everyone else to have a split holiday, but spending most of the break here gives me time to get a little ahead next term. And with Pan leaving in February, it's gonna be nice to have some free days to spend upstairs before he's gone. (Writing 'younger you' all the time feels weird, so I'm gonna refer to him as Pan from now on. If you start calling me Wendy again I'll hex you.)
Don't curse the Wizengamot.
Love, Hermione
November 22, 2013
Dearest Hermione,
Am I not allowed to address my letters in a fashion that reminds my newly reacquired best friend of the regard I hold for her? Should I have addressed this one to 'The Cheeky Third Year Who Lives to Cause Me Headaches' instead? Doing so would be more accurate, I suppose, if not less efficient.
And fine. I won't shoot your favorite knights, but I reserve the right to hex them.
Abraxas's mother would skin me alive if I wasn't in attendance on Christmas, so yes, I'll be joining you all for the overcrowded christianized Yuletide gathering.
Enjoy the little bit of peace and quiet when everyone's sent home on the twentieth. I'll be getting you from the castle December twenty-third. Your parents accepted my invitation to stay at Proserpine Park for the duration of their time off, and so you can enjoy a blended magical and muggle holiday with ease.
Abraxas will be pleased to know you're finally complaining about not being able to bring muggle technology to school. He figured out the charmwork for that sort of thing ages ago. Only ask him about it if you want to be stuck talking about Charms theory and how magic actually behaves with electricity for hours on end though. Possibly days. Actually, scratch that. Best not to get him started on Charms or Transfiguration. It's a hassle to shut him up again.
I suppose calling my schoolboy self 'Pan' is fair considering how often I tormented you with the 'Wendy' moniker you hate so much.
I'll behave in court, I promise. I don't need force to win though. I've practically perfected wizarding law and its many contradictions, so the real key is winning over the seatholders to sway their votes. It's also been fun watching Sirius suffer through depositions before actual hearings, nevermind the hearings themselves. It's all dreadfully boring at this stage and more of a battle of stamina than anything. (It's convenient that myself, Abraxas, and Flynn are forever young, since our adversaries are at least a decade older than all of us are on paper. Many are over a hundred, and their years are beginning to wear on them.)
I already know the outcome, of course, but there is something exhilarating about piecing together how I win in these situations. That said, the gents have one valid complaint that I'm tired of hearing even if it's accurate: You're still too young to celebrate with us properly even though you're here to witness our political victories. It's a shame, really. I might actually enjoy their tedious little victory outings if there was someone intelligent to talk to.
Still set on becoming minister to fire me from my mystery post? (I would tell you what department we're in if I could, but you'll know by the time you finish school, I promise.) Brax and Flynn often complain about how much they miss working together with you when we were younger, and I certainly wouldn't mind having an extra fully-functioning brain around the office…
Aside from holding my mother's family's wizengamot seat (since those fools were sacred twenty-eight), I can't divulge my exact job title without giving away too much.
The Order of Hermes has a limited roster, but the ideals of the order are gaining enough popularity that I dare say I've started my own political faction. A rather happy coincidence for anyone affiliated with me, or my order, who may have dreams of being minister for magic.
If midterms are truly so dreadful, you could always take my advice from last summer and drop another elective or two…say the words, Dove, and you're free of the workload.
Yours, always,
Tom
Sirius paced a loop spanning four of the massive bookshelves in Proserpine Park's library. The room could easily accommodate the respectable collection at Grimmauld a dozen times over if he had to guess, though perhaps that was to be expected of a library built with Hermione Granger's reading habits in mind.
As beautiful as the room was – a blend of modern textures, simplicity, and minimalism excluding the sheer volume of volumes on the shelves– Sirius was too furious to fully appreciate the atmosphere.
"You know if every time we talk I end up pissed off, eventually I'm gonna stop answering your Floo calls," Sirius said darkly.
Tom snorted, turned a page in the small book in his hand, and sipped his firewhiskey. "That's an option," he allowed, the words toeing the line between aloof reassurance and a condescending parent who knew their child's logic was flawed. "Of course, if you choose that route, you'd be surrendering the little agency you have in this era of tiresome Hermione management."
Sirius paused in his pacing to glare at the other wizard. "You know that's not a choice I'm going to make."
"Of course I do," Tom agreed. "You'd rather die than choose blissful ignorance at Harry's expense. That doesn't change the fact that you've chosen to stand by your moral convictions."
Sirius stayed quiet, trusting his impatience to fill the silence instead.
Tom glanced up, sipped his firewhiskey again, and offered Sirius a shrug that was equal parts amused and understanding. "She won't let Peter touch him," he said.
"At what cost?" Sirius parried.
Tom gave him a what do you want from me? stare. "A few restless nights of sleep and an even deeper bond with his best mate? Honestly I'm shocked Harry never became a romantic rival with how much closer they're going to get this year."
"Let's say I agree to this," Sirius began, "what happens if Peter makes it into the school? How are they supposed to protect themselves if they can't bloody see him on the map?"
Tom took a slow, deep breath. "Peter's been at the castle the entire time masquerading as Ronald Weasley's pet rat. It doesn't benefit Albus to have Peter attempt to kill Harry. The little cretin is after Hermione and it'll be a while before he attempts that suicide mission anyway."
Sirius seethed, fists trembling at his sides until he crossed his arms over his chest – an attempt to console and contain himself in equal measure. "Does he hurt either of them?"
Tom leveled an even gaze at him and raised a brow. "Only the one he's aiming for and considering she'll be able to cast a wandless protego by then, it's not worth fretting over."
"No?" Sirius pressed. "And the mental damage from getting attacked repeatedly in the one place they're supposed to be safest aside from home?"
Tom blinked slowly. "That's not going to be what sticks out to either of them after Pettigrew. Compared to what's waiting for them next year, this year will become an afterthought. We're setting a stage, Black."
"Never did care for the theater," Sirius grumbled, but the fire of his temper was giving way to resignation. "You're certain there's no chance of Peter or Albus hurting those kids? Not even with the change orders she's passing to you through time?"
"Completely certain," Tom said dryly. "I'll destroy a thousand universes and willingly unleash timeline paradoxes if it means keeping Albus Dumbledore from hurting her. Anything untoward happening to Harry falls under that category. Besides…" Tom gave him a look that made Sirius raise two choice fingers in his direction. "Why would I let my future brother-in-law die? He grows on me eventually."
Sirius groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "How the hell do you stay sane knowing this shite? This is awful."
"There are certainly days where I wonder if I lost whatever sanity she granted me when the time loop ended," said Tom. "You focus on the things you have control over and learn to shove the rest out of mind."
"Yeah? How's that going for you, mate?" Sirius asked with a hollow chuckle.
Tom didn't answer, but he took more than a sip of firewhiskey when the glass touched his lips again.
December 1st, 2013
To the Cheeky Lost Boy Turned Politician Who Lives to Make Me Roll My Eyes,
I suppose we can both address our letters however we please, don't you? I rather like this one for you, even if it takes an age to write.
Don't hex Abraxas and Flynn either, you prat! I'm certain they couldn't have done anything worthy of such abuse. You should get a hobby to deal with your aggressive tendencies, you know. Knitting is tricky, but I've found crochet to be much easier. Perhaps you should try it.
What did Christmas ever do to you? Sure it might be a lot of people, but it's all people we like at least. Keep up that attitude and I'm adding Scrooge to your list of nicknames. Though maybe you're more of a Grinch.
If I ever want to run for Minister, I'll be sure to use our connections to my advantage. I'm honestly shocked no one from your faction holds the office at present. Planning a coup?
I want the O.W.L.s, as you well know, and there's no point in quitting now. I'm more than capable of figuring it out.
Love,
Hermione
December 4th, 2013
My dearest, Hermione,
I'll reply to your last letter in full when the Wizengamot disbands for holiday recess, but a few comments demanded my immediate attention.
If I'm the Grinch, you're Cindy Lou Who, so tread carefully. I can and will spell your hair scarves to replicate that absurd hairstyle. I'll suffer 'Pan' but if you get Abraxas and Flynn calling me either of your suggested atrocities in your last letter, I will retaliate.
Yours, despite my better judgment,
Tom