It was Friday night, the only time of the week that could cure her longing for Mother's soothing presence. She was looking forward to this night since the moment the last week call ended, after two hours gone and her longing for Mother barely satisfied.
Now the time had come and she could barely keep her mind from wandering.
Madeline smiled, letting out occasional laughter as Barty entertained mother with his stories of exam preparation. One would have thought that the topic of a school exam would be terribly dull, yet somehow, Barty prevailed. Madeline listened with a fond smile stuck on her face.
It was common for Madeline to listen to her beloved. She wasn't particularly chatty, at least not in this life. She thought she could remember Hermione Granger telling her family stories with the speed of ten miles worth of words per hour, but she also had some memories of silent, agonizing dinner with them.
Maybe it had been the influence of the impending war. She wasn't so sure anymore.
Her memories were getting spotty. She didn't even know such a thing could happen. She had them organized in the library of her mind, and yet, as she meditated every morning, she always found an empty row in some of the shelves.
In the shelves of Hermione Granger's memory.
It was evident now, with the emptying shelves. Previously, she thought it was common to lose childhood memories, or memories that she never tried to recall. Finding Ebbinghaus's theory had been a comfort. It was normal to forget, if you didn't make an attempt to recall it again.
So she did. Make an attempt, that is. For all of them.
She made an attempt, diligently, to keep everything preserved in her library. Opening Hermione Granger's personal memories became a part of her meditation routine. It didn't matter that her occlumency meditation was now stretched into a two hours routine, Hermione Granger's memories were essential, so the effort was worth it.
It should have been worth it.
But when you make an attempt to keep all the memories, shouldn't it stay?
Empty rows of memories was her answer.
Alas, her diminishing memories were the least of her concern at the moment. There were seven projects in the process right now, mission related and otherwise. She dutifully made some progress in each of them, making sure that she attended to them at least once a week. Everyone else could have split themselves into two and still couldn't have managed to make as much progress as her in all of the projects, but Madeline worked efficiently. She worked determinedly.
Because she had a mission.
She had a mission, and a plan.
"How about you, Madeline?"
She snapped her head to the source, eyes focusing at the mirror that was hung beside Barty's bed. Mother's concerned face was directed at her and Madeline smiled awkwardly. What were they talking about again?
Right. Exam preparation. "It's as Barty said."
Madeline watched as Mother and Barty exchanged a glance, amusement hanging in their eyes. Mother's eyes were definitely laughing at her as she hummed, "You will eat your father's hat if you don't get all Os too?"
She blinked.
It shouldn't have surprised her that Barty would speak of the most absurd things.
"Er, same sentiment, but not quite."
Her brother snorted, head shaking at Mother, "Maddy has been weird, Mother. Distracted-kind of weird. And not because of the approaching exam period, so you can stop worrying about that. Maddy keeps thinking that something will go wrong, cautious and anxious and all."
Madeline blushed. She was wrong to confide in her little brother that one time! "Barty," her voice was of warning tone.
Her cheeky brother was unfortunately immune to it.
"Oops."
Her glare was met by a devil may care stuck out tongue.
"Is something bothering you, Madeline?"
The inevitable inquiry from Mother made her wince. She had thought she could avoid being the subject of discussion. Gulping, she faced Mother with uncertainty plainly expressed from her eyes. "No..?"
She barely managed to reign in another wince at Mother's unimpressed stare. Looking defeatedly at two equally determined beloved of hers, Madeline sighed, arms hugging herself.
"Yes, something does bother me. Just last year, something bad happened before school ended. I'm just worried that something bad will happen again."
It was true. She did worry a lot nowadays. And it was not just about last year.
In her experience, something always happened before the school ended. It could be as harmless as facing a three headed dog that guarded a trap door, or as severe as Death eaters taking over Hogwarts through a secret vanishing cabinet operated by a rogue death eater student. Not even Voldemort's resurrection was on top of her list, imagine that.
"What happened last year?" She heard Barty ask, drawing another sigh from her.
"Charis Crouch."
Barty's eyes widened in understanding. "Ah…"
Madeline turned her head away, not wanting to see the pity that surely was displayed in both Mother's and Barty's expression. They knew how Charis Crouch's death affected her, how the news utterly destroyed her peace of mind. It was Charis Crouch's death that urged her to rethink all her plans, making her mind drift away most of the time.
It was all she could think about right now. Her failure, her future, her plans. All of her projects. All of her schemes. All the mistakes that she would likely do, the minefield that she would trigger.
"Something bad will always happen, dear," Mother said eventually, voice soft and soothing, "Dreading it will only exhaust you."
Mother's voice felt so far away. So out of reach.
She hugged herself a little tighter.
"I suppose," Madeline replied, letting out an exhale, long and harsh.
"But that is not the only thing that worries you, isn't it?"
A tired chuckle escaped her. Of course Mother would catch on. She sent Mother a sheepish smile, finding comfort in Mother's knowing gaze.
Just idle worries of the past, or even vague worries for the future, wouldn't distract her this badly, she supposed Mother would know it best. She had, after all, been haunted by nightmares right from her early childhood and not even the bloodiest scene managed to scare her from living the day.
What distracted her most of the time was a healthy fear for the seemingly impeding future and her plans for it.
In this case, a particular plan that possibly ends with her life lost - and worse, her knowledge of the future lost and with it, the future of magic altogether.
She wet her lips before she confessed, "I want to do something… daunting. I'm just anxious for it, that's all."
"Something daunting?"
She smiled at the curious tilt of her brother's head. "It has something to do with one of my projects."
Mother let out a humming sound, the slightest frown betrayed another concern that appeared in her mind. "Does your father know about it?"
"He doesn't."
Mother's eyes sharpened, "Didn't you promise to not do anything without his supervision?"
At this, even Barty snorted.
"If she waits for father's supervision, she won't be able to do anything, Mother." He turned to look at her, ignoring Mother's quiet disagreement as his eyes bored at hers with hope. "Can I come with you? Something daunting sounds fun!"
She didn't even have to consider.
"No," came her answer, her tone final. It made Barty flinch and a sliver of guilt crossed her mind, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you join this time." Nothing on earth would make her allow him to join her in this particular, mortally dangerous, plan.
"S'alright," came his murmured reply. "It's nothing new."
His dejected voice was a sharp edge of sword straight to her chest.
"You can start joining me next year," she tried, softly smiling. "I promised, didn't i?"
Thankfully, she succeeded in lifting his mood, another excited grin bloomed in his face.
"That's right, I'll join you next year! You should know that I've been studying upper year materials as well! Evan can vouch for me!"
Another chuckle escaped her, this time full of amusement.
.
The particularly deadly plan mentioned unfortunately must be enacted at the very end of term, just so she didn't raise too much alarm in case she did end up dead in the process of it. It wasn't ideal, her nerves couldn't be more worked up in anticipation, but Madeline had made her peace. There was no other way around it.
But of course her nerves would attract unwanted attention.
It was the fourth weekend of May. Sunday, eight o'clock in the morning, to be exact. The end of year exam was just around the corner and the inter-house Quidditch cup was finally concluded - much to her relief. There were too many corridor fights about who would be the year's winner to her liking.
Even with their win, the Hufflepuffs failed to secure the first place. No, the first place was won by the Slytherin house, with their streak of winning and Regulus Black's apparent invincible skill in catching the snitch.
Speaking of Regulus Black,
"Correct me if i'm wrong - " started him quietly, just as he dropped to a seat next to her. A seat she saved for Barty.
She pursed her lips. "With pleasure."
" - but your brother told me how you have been getting restless this past week," continued the boy, ignoring her reply with a most grave expression on his face. "Something about the end of year and the bad luck it brings. I noticed that you didn't share with him the knowledge of last year's incident and he is, therefore, unaware of the danger you faced."
It took her five full seconds to understand the danger he was talking about. Meanwhile Regulus Black stared at her, straight to her soul, with the intensity she thought could only be seen in a mother dragon.
That image unsettled her.
"Ah..."
"Are they back?" Regulus Black asked again, his voice soft but not without an underlying steel. "The ones who are responsible for those wounds. Are they back? Did they threaten you again?"
Madeline tried not to squirm under his gaze.
You see, she had good reasons for her anxiety. The plan she wanted to enact had been carefully made since last summer. It was her main reason to learn the animagus transformation, the reason why she brewed so many preservation potions that the employee in the apothecary was raising his eyebrows in a silent question. This plan also could lead to her death. Worse, it could lead to her body missing and left to rot without anyone knowing the wiser until at least twenty years in the future, with her future knowledge of the war rotting along her body.
But while she had a good reason for her anxiety, it didn't mean that she could be this transparent for others to read. Shame on her, she scolded herself. Years of pureblood training wasted.
"I am fine," she assured Black calmly. "Nothing of that sort has happened. And I will appreciate it if you keep last year's incident from Barty. Name your price, it will be done."
A slight wince took over his face in a very brief moment, making the boy look in another direction.
Madeline frowned.
That's one of the peculiar things about the boy. He was the one who reminded her of the favors she owed, yet every time she asked about it, the boy always looked uncomfortable. It almost looked like he didn't want her to pay him back. Now that was an amusing thought.
She paid him no mind as she continued her reading. The great hall was still relatively empty, and Madeline always took advantage of it. Many of her time had been focused on her projects, so she made sure to always eat her meals with Barty. Now, if only Barty could bring himself to wake up earlier on the weekend…
She felt Black's eyes on her every other minute.
Madeline stubbornly kept her eyes on her book.
"Are you sure you're fine?" She heard the boy ask again, minutes after. This time she didn't bother to hide her exasperated sigh.
"Yes. I am perfectly, in the most positive way, fine."
If Black still had his doubt, his face barely expressed it. "You're a bit twitchier than usual, though."
She sent him a glare. "Twitchier?"
The boy had the nerve to blush, "a passing observation."
Of course it was, Madeline scowled internally. The boy was not as subtle as he liked to think whenever he watched her. And she didn't appreciate being watched at all.
An idea crossed her mind and she hummed, keeping her eyes locked on his pair of gray. "In that case, you look more dashing than usual."
One second. Two seconds.
Then, if humans could spontaneously combust from embarrassment, the Blacks would have mourned one of their members, right there and then.
"W-what?"
She smiled, a bit too sharply, "a passing observation."
"W-what?"
He was repeating himself. How cute.
After another two seconds - which felt too long for Regulus' poor heart - it was his turn to glare at her, face still flushed. It seemed that his mind had finally caught up.
"Don't joke about that kind of matter, Crouch. It isn't proper."
She swallowed her grin as he went on a rant about propriety, muttering about things that she should most definitely not say to any boy. It wasn't until he mentioned 'the harm of lying' that she spoke again, "It was said in a jest, yes, but who said I was not being honest?"
Cue the combustion, second episode.
And the following rant about more propriety lessons.
In summary, her diversion was a success.
.
Black's observation about her 'twitchiness' turned out to be more helpful than she had thought originally.
It took her a couple of hours to realize: Hermione Granger had always been poor at staying patient and doing nothing.
- No, that may be wrong. Hermione Granger started to be impatient after her own inaction led to her petrification in second year. Third Year? Played with time, saved two lives rather than waiting on the Ministry to have some sense. Fourth year? She could have an early stroke after how much she was preparing Harry for his tasks. Fifth year? Dumbledore Army was formed. Sixth year was a fluke, really, she didn't know why she was such a teenager that year. But the summer after that… She prepared for everything. The tent. The clothes. The research. The potions. The memory charms.
That's right. Hermione Granger was not one to just wait for action. Waiting for the end of year by doing nothing was just not in her nature.
And therefore, she started to make other plans. Plans to tie the loose end of her second year.
Her first plan led her to the first floor's defense corridor, where the office for the defense professor resided. It was just after lunch, and she knocked on the professor's door three times, knowing perfectly that the professor was inside.
"Come in."
The room that greeted her was bright, windows opened to let the spring air breeze through. Photographs and awards from international duels all over the world were displayed on the tall wall on her right, and Professor Baddock, she noted as she entered, was in the middle of grading a pile of parchments at his desk, his sharp eyes only spared her a glance before returning to the parchment in his hand.
"Miss Crouch. Have you come for some extra-credit assignments?"
That made her pause, tilting her head curiously at the grave looking man. "Do I need it, professor?"
"With your grades and apparent proficiency in my subject?" He replied without pause, "Not in the slightest. I take it you're not here for extra-credit assignments, then? Please sit."
She smiled, taking his easy compliment with grace as she slid onto the chair in front of his desk. "Thank you, sir, and no, that is not my reason for this visit."
The professor hummed, before finally deciding to put down the parchment in his hand.
"Pardon the assumption, the Ravenclaws have been asking for more assignments to bump up their grades this whole month. So? How can I be of help?"
No nonsense, straight to the point.
Madeline kept her smile polite. That was what she liked about the professor, though his competence was what earned him her highest respect. It was only fair that she returned his sentiment. "It's about the jinx in the defense teacher position," she answered simply.
If the professor wasn't intrigued by her visit before, he certainly was now.
Professor Baddock eyed her with open curiosity, and perhaps with a bit of amusement, "What about it?"
She dropped down her gaze, her concern sincere. "To be frank, sir, some of us are concerned. The end of the term is approaching."
It wasn't a lie. Amanda and Bethany had been voicing their worries for some time now, after they overheard a couple of Gryffindors who wagered on the Professor's fate. Madeline, to her greatest shame, failed to produce a significant way to stop the jinx. She did find some ways to work around it, but those methods required extended time worth of effort, involving Hogwarts board of governors and the Headmaster. Madeline definitely did not want to draw more attention to herself, and with the narrow time frame, those methods were out.
But, she would be damned if she didn't help the man escape some gruesome accident.
Alas, her concern was only humored by the man.
"I appreciate your concern, Miss Crouch, but I can assure you that no such jinx has been found," Professor Baddock stated confidently, chest puffed. "I have investigated this room, the contract, the position description in the Hogwarts Charter itself, and even my own person. But there is no jinx to be found."
Madeline blinked, processing.
Surely, the professor realized that the jinx didn't have to be linked with a physical object? - Wait, no. His conclusion made sense. He couldn't have known that the jinx caster was the direct heir of one of Hogwarts' founders. For anyone else, a physical link to the position might be needed. But Voldemort could use his own blood, his own life, to have that connection with Hogwarts.
The professor kept on talking.
"I confessed, I was hesitant to accept this position after knowing what had become of my predecessors. But I shouldn't have doubted Filius - He had investigated this jinx before I was even offered the position, you see. In any case, the previous accidents involving all my processors must either be truly some series of unfortunate accidents, or the result of a targeted attack. The former was out of our control, but if it was the latter - well, I was not a dueling champion for nothing."
There was a budding itch in her, an urge to tell the professor about the origin of the jinx. It was unfair that Dumbledore kept this knowledge from his staff - worse, he kept this knowledge from the staff who would be victims of this jinx.
Unfortunately, Madeline could understand the reason behind Dumbledore's decision. To openly announce Voldemort as the heir of Slytherin… it would tilt the balance of the war. And not in their favor.
She understood. But she hated herself for it.
"-so as you see, there is no need to concern yourself with this fabled jinx. Would that be all, Miss Crouch?"
Several options crossed her mind. "Actually, professor," her mouth said before her mind could finish processing everything, "I was wondering if you practice the art of mind protection?"
The professor frowned. "Occlumency, you mean? I must say I don't. It's not particularly needed nowadays, and international dueling championships had forbidden the use of legilimency in their duels for the last century."
"I see."
What a shame, then.
She didn't have much choice, not really.
As subtle as she could, she pointed her wand at the professor in a blink of an eye. She would not test the reflex of an experienced dueling champion, so a deft, decisive action was required. The desk between them worked in her favor - the Professor didn't notice her wand before it was too late.
"Obliviate. Imperio."
Two words.
Two spells.
Barely a minute passed, and just like that, the eyes of the professor changed. Just before he blinked it away.
He noticed her presence after a couple more of blinking.
"Miss crouch? How can I be of help?"
Madeline smiled - a pained one, not that the professor noticed it. "I am wondering if you have heard of the Auror supplemental training program? It is one of the programs my father implemented and I feel that they could benefit much from having a wizard of your experience to teach them."
His eyes glinted under the sunlight.
"I've heard of it, of course. Such a great action, taken by our ministry in a time like this. As I planned to resign from my position by the end of this month, I am considering offering the ministry my assistance, though I was not sure on who to contact. Can you forward my good will to your father, Miss crouch?"
It was fine. She saved someone.
Madeline smiled, this time assured, "It will be my pleasure."
.
Professor Baddock's resignation became publicly known the weekend just before the end of year exam. It was truly remarkable how Hogwarts rumor mills worked - not even the exam could prevent it from working.
With one loose end tied up, Madeline felt a bit lighter than she was before. It was funny, Hermione Granger was always so stressed before her exams and now Madeline Crouch was looking ready to take a nap. Not that she will, mind you.
Besides, how could she take a nap when it was her little brother's turn to be a ball of nerves?
"You will do just fine."
Barty nodded distractedly at her reassurance, his mouth still mumbling the entire steps of brewing the forgetful potion as he played with his food. She couldn't help but smile - Barty was truly her brother. Now if he could just leave Hermione Granger's bad habit out of it -
"And here we thought he had it sorted."
Madeline met Lestrange's eyes across her, an amused look exchanged between them. Barty was a bit loud in his arrogance, and there was no doubt that he was the number one student among the first year. But that still didn't exempt him from the pre-exam jitters.
"Should you make a comment, Rab?" Drawled Regulus Black from beside the boy. "Who was it again that forgot to sleep the night before the first day exam?"
"That was entirely your fault," Lestrange retorted hotly. A bit flustered, perhaps? What a curious sight. "And you would have joined me if you didn't study till the point of exhaustion."
Black nodded in calm agreement, "I suppose the younger us didn't know any better."
Precocious.
"And you know better now, Black?" She asked, her tone was slightly teasing.
Black blinked owlishly at her, "but of course. Now, I no longer dread the exam in agony."
Evan snorted.
"Yeah, comes with the knowledge of the sheer impossibility of snatching the first rank in his year. Really liberating one from one's ambition, isn't it?"
Black and Lestrange nodded solemnly at his words, much to her amusement. She turned to Evan, "now, what would you know about it?"
"Oh please," Evan rolled his eyes, "as if Barty here wouldn't secure the first rank in our year? I made peace with that ages ago. Besides, I'm not as much of a nerd as you two. I have my two favorite subjects and that's it."
The boy mentioned was unaware at the mention of his name, his head still deep in thoughts, now muttering the steps of Hair raising potion in an impressive speed.
Madeline hummed, feeling a bit wistful. Despite her rapidly decreasing memories, she knew that in her time as Hermione Granger, she had never truly gotten out of her pre-exam manic state. In fact, she would have cared more for the exam last year if it wasn't for Charis Crouch's death. Now she really couldn't care less, but of course she still needed to do her best. Mother and Barty would be disappointed otherwise.
"Here comes another nerd," Evan added quietly, eyes trailing over a figure that was fastly approaching the Slytherin table.
Severus Snape walked alone with an air of derision, eyes glowering at the world in general, though his head hung quite lowly. The boy didn't offer as much as a glance in any other direction, eyes locked in his usual seat as he approached it.
Madeline hoped he did though. Glance in another direction, that is. Particularly in the table beside them.
Madeline knew that look in those green eyes. She knew it all too well. It was Harry's permanent look. The ever-present sadness that lurked just behind all the green.
She dropped her eyes, finding her meal interesting all the sudden.
That was another loose end that she would have to rectify this year. She didn't know how, though. Lily and her got along just fine, but she understood why Lily didn't want to apologize to Snape first.
You see, while it was Lily's action that triggered this fight, it was Snape's unsurprising reaction that prolonged it. Indeed, it seemed that Lily had finally grown a backbone to refuse to listen to Snape's constant belittling. She didn't want to listen anymore about Snape's hatred towards Gryffindor and muggles.
Madeline would have applauded her for it if she didn't know intimately the result of this separation.
She felt a headache coming as she closed her eyes, fingers gently massaging her temple.
.
"Mending a friendship, huh?" Amanda mused, her mind wandered as she considered her question.
Bethany shuddered at her words. "I can't think of anything. The idea of ruining a friendship alone is terrifying. At least part on good terms if you decide not to hang out together anymore."
"Sometimes the situation doesn't allow it," Madeline shrugged, knowing full well of what a small disagreement could lead to. The memory of Ron's leaving still shadowed a part of her mind.
Her decision to come to her Hufflepuff friends was prompted by this question: Who would know better about friendship than her? Hermione Granger might have been older and had two best friends, but her circle of friends had been laughably small. And no matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise, she knew that Ron was always Harry's closest friend. Harry was Ron's first choice too.
So she could admit that she wasn't the best in the subject of friendship. Which is why she was now asking for advice from two friendly Hufflepuffs.
"Has he tried apologizing?"
She winced at Amanda's question. That was her first thought too, but… "He doesn't think he's in the wrong."
The two Hufflepuffs glanced at each other, face frowning. After a while, Bethany extended her frown at her.
"Well, that's your first step, then. Make him understand what he did wrong."
As if it was that simple. "He won't talk to me."
"Make him talk to you, then," Amanda retorted, again with a simple suggestion.
Her frustrated response was already on her tongue, her face barely refrained from scowling before their words finally got through her skull.
Make him talk to her.
Leave him with no choice but to talk to her.
All this time, it was truly that simple.
She smiled at her two friends with appreciation. "Much obliged, girls. Expect a fancy box of chocolates on your bed this evening."
Bethany blushed. "We didn't help you to get chocolates, Maddy."
"But your gratitude is much appreciated," Amanda added, her tone dry. "Never stop."
Oddly, her words made Bethany blushed a little more. She turned her head fully at her friend, chastisement escaping her expression as she hissed, "Amanda! Don't make maddy feel she has to pay for any help she asks. We talked about this."
Madeline's eyebrow shot up. They talked about what, now?
"Oh, hush. I've seen you devour those chocolates in one sitting."
"That's neither here nor there!"
A snort. "Oh, please. You would rather her stop with the chocolate?"
The flustered silence was enough of an answer. Madeline didn't bother to hold back her grin. "I won't stop any time soon. Feel free to indulge in sweet treats."
Bethany laughed sheepishly as Amanda returned her grin, and Madeline couldn't resist.
She chuckled. Friends indeed.