Chapter 19
Trouble Afoot
The time Harry chose to come down the stairs was just right to overhear the tail end of Hermione's and Molly's argument. "Now you look here, young lady, I will not let you go around dressed like some hussy! Go and change into something respectable, or you won't be welcome in this house!"
"You look here, Molly Weasley," Hermione said, her voice loud enough to be heard even over Walburga's vitriol. "I already have a mother, and I am certainly not searching for a replacement. Neverpresume to act like I am your child; you have enough trouble with your own brood without begging for more! I will wear what I want with or without your approval, so do all of us a favor and keep your unsolicited opinions to yourself. And don't think you can threaten to throw me out. This is Sirius's house, not yours. If this is how you've been acting the entire time you've been his guest, I'm not certain how he's kept from tossing you right out the door!"
"My personal theory is that Azkaban somehow gave him the patience of a saint," he said as he stepped into the hall. "Not sure it makes up for twelve years of illegal incarceration, but it's a start."
He took a look at what had set Molly off only to sigh in disappointment. The short blouse and tight jeans were nothing that would get a second glance in the Muggle world, but for the old-fashioned magicals, the thin strip of bronzed belly on display was the height of indecency. "Bloody Victorians."
Hermione smirked at his comment. Turning to the stairwell, she called, "Will someone shut that racket off?!"
"Very polite. First time she comes into my house, and she's already making demands. I'm telling you, Moony, kids these days have no respect!" A moment later the screeching stopped, and Sirius became visible. "Hey there, Hermione. Now I see how he fell for your wicked charms." A lecherous grin accompanied his wolf-whistle.
"Oi, hairball, enough of that. She's way too young for you." Shaking his head at his godfather's antics — he had seen Sirius 'flirting' with Tonks enough to figure out that the dog only acted like a dirty old man for personal amusement — he motioned towards the unruly painting. "Why don't you just silence her?"
"We've already tried that, trust me. She made sure her portrait was protected from any spells we might want to put on her. If she hadn't, I'd have gotten rid of her long ago."
Hermione nibbled on her lip as she thought. "Assuming you don't want to risk triggering any defenses she may have placed before she died by removing it, have you tried silencing the area around her? That wouldn't be casting magic on it directly, after all."
Sirius stared at her in awe. Not saying a word, he walked back to his mother's painting and followed Hermione's suggestion, then tested it by kicking a portion of the frame that was peeking from behind the drapes. The raggedy curtains flared open once more, but while they could all see Walburga's mouth moving and spittle flying around, there was no sound. "Not bad."
"Sirius!" Molly screamed. From the volume, she either hadn't noticed that the portrait was quiet or didn't care. Harry personally suspected it was the latter. "Since everyone insists you take charge of what goes on in this house, tell her to put on some proper clothes."
The Animagus looked Hermione over once again, then shrugged. "I know nothing about modern Muggle fashion. Is this considered decent?"
"It wouldn't be out of place, I don't think," Harry said.
"In some places, it would even be overly modest," added the brunette. "I normally wear clothes like this during the summers."
The Weasley matriarch purpled in rage, eerily reminiscent of the late Vernon Dursley. "You have never worn anything so… so… unseemly any time I saw you!"
"Well, of course you haven't," Hermione replied airily. "When I visited the Burrow, I dressed like an old maid so as to not offend your delicate sensibilities."
"Sirius, I'll just show Mione to her room." Harry didn't know how much more Molly could take before she burst an aneurism, and it simply wouldn't do for the harpy to miss what he had planned for her.
They slipped up the stairs and past Walburga at the same time that Molly resumed her screeching. After they entered Hermione's and Ginny's room from the previous timeline, she flicked her wand, locking the door and preventing any eavesdropping. "Harry, you know that I normally abhor killing, right?"
He nodded, so she continued, "In fact, except when it came to masked Death Eaters, I fought to debilitate, remember?"
"I do. Luna and I were relieved when we saw you weren't going to put yourself at risk by treating them with kid gloves."
"So, while it is massively out of character for me to ask this, can we please, please, please rip out that harridan's entrails and strangle her with them?"
He blinked once, twice, as he tried to process what he had just heard. Finally deciding this conversation was going to be as strange as the time she and Luna informed him they had accidentally turned the trees of Sherwood Forest carnivorous, he muttered, "That must have been one hell of an argument."
"No, it wasn't the argument we had just a minute ago. Well, not entirely." She sat heavily on one of the beds, the one Ginny hadn't slept in the night before to judge by the disheveled sheets of the other. "It's just… Ron's a blithering idiot, and while Ginny at least has an average intelligence, she's no potions prodigy. During my apprenticeship, one of the attending Healers mentioned that all love potions are extremely finicky to produce. Even a minor philter, if home-brewed, is far more likely to kill the person you're interested in than ensnare them. Yet we were potioned all throughout our sixth year with no adverse side effects. The only person I can think of who could do that is Molly 'I-Was-In-A-Potions-Apprenticeship-Until-Bill-Came -Along' Weasley.
"She knew that Ron was too offensive to the female gender for anyone with a lick of common sense to want him. She knew that Ginny was so obsessed with you that she would never consider looking for someone else. So what did it matter that we are far more compatible with each other than with her spawn? What did it matter that they would be raping us every time we had sex under the potion's influence? Nooooo, a few hours in the kitchen and she has a cauldron full of 'One Big Weasley Family'."
By now he had joined her on the bed and held her as she ranted. "Thank Merlin for Luna. If it weren't for her dragging us to St. Mungo's, we'd have broken up to be with the wastes of space."
She laughed mirthlessly. Luna was as sweet as her Patronus most of the time, but when she realized Molly had dosed them, she instantly changed from a gentle bunny to a vicious tigress. Four summoning charms, a bone-shattering curse, and an Apparation later, he and Hermione were on purging and neutralizing potions while the Hit Wizards the Healers called in were all that prevented Luna from returning to the Burrow and razing it — and everyone inside — to the ground.
Line theft was a serious crime in the magical world, but as they found out, that was only if the victim was of pure blood. Not even his new status as the Man-Who-Won made a hint of difference to the hide-bound old farts on the Wizengamot. He was half-blood, Hermione was a Muggleborn, the Weasleys were Purebloods. Case closed.
"My point, though, is that it wasn't a desperate attempt by a couple of mentally abnormal juveniles to get the objects of their desires; that would have been bad enough. No, it was a meticulously planned attack by a woman who revealed herself to be as much a pureblood bigot as Malfoy, just following Dumbledore instead of Voldemort. It's okay to force us into loveless relationships; we aren't pure, so obviously we're there entirely for the Weasleys' advancement. Hell, she stole from you for that same reason. She believes she deserves your money more than you do because your family tree doesn't look like an overgrown bramble where people searched for their future spouses at the family reunion. I didn't think I still hated her this much, but seeing her when I came in… I want that bitch dead."
"Well, that's a more direct idea than mine," he said. When she looked up at him from where her head was resting against his chest, he continued, "I had thought we could target Ron — and Ginny, should she cross the line — turn them into broken shells of who they once were. I don't want to destroy the whole family, though that would be simpler."
"Arthur, Bill, and Charlie," she said, to which he nodded. The first's only crime was being a weak man and allowing his wife to run roughshod all over him, and the third was completely unaware of the plot against them. The second, though, had lambasted his mother and siblings before walking out on them, vowing that he and Fleur would not set foot in the Burrow again. He told Harry several months later that he had never been more ashamed than he was when he found out about their actions, and it was only his position as the heir of the House of Weasley that kept him from abandoning his name. Had the trio not jumped back in time, Bill would have cast everyone involved out of the family before Arthur's body had time to cool.
"The twins, too. They're just immature jokers who haven't been properly taught morals, and Triple-W will make us a lot of money should we leave them alone."
Hermione nibbled her lip for a moment. "Maybe… maybe that will be enough. Those two are her favorite children; leaving them dead, or worse, might do more lasting harm than killing her outright. And we can always finish her off later if it doesn't."
"True." He snorted as a thought struck him. "Just before you arrived, Dumbledore asked if I was going Dark because I called him out on trusting Snape more than anyone else in the Order. I told him no, and here we are, calmly weighing the pros and cons of murder. Oh, the irony."
"Nothing she doesn't deserve! Even if we choose to ignore the crimes that haven't been committed yet, she's still guilty as sin."
He raised the hand not holding his lover to him in mock surrender. "No arguments from me on that score. I just thought it was funny. Come on, we should join the others before they track us down and decide we can't be trusted alone with each other." Standing, he pulled her to her feet and unlocked the door. There was no need to borrow problems, after all.
"I know what you're doing."
Hermione lifted her eyes from the book in her hands to stare questioningly at Ginny. "I'm reading, as is my habit. I don't know what is so earth-shattering about that."
"It's not going to work." Ginny continued to glare, a mixture of outrage and superiority on her face. It wasn't a good look for her.
"Seriously, Ginny. What are you nattering on about?"
"You're trying to take my Harry away from me. Maybe if you dress like a slag, maybe if you smile sweetly at him during dinner, maybe if you don't act like a bookworm all the time, he'll think you're worth his attention? He's the Boy-Who-Lived, and much too good for you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Right, sharing a room with a deluded fangirl is not going to work. Will Sirius let me move to the third floor with him and Harry? She couldn't help but smile at that thought. He said the second floor was for guests and the third floor was for family, didn't he? Godfather, godson, and goddaughter-in-law, in spirit if not in fact, would continue that tradition.
Unfortunately, Ginny misinterpreted the meaning of her smile. "You think stealing him from me is funny?"
"Ginny," the older girl sighed, "Harry isn't yours. He doesn't even know you exist beyond being Ron's little sister." Which was why the Weasleys had to resort to potions in the original timeline. Much like Ron, Ginny had lofty goals but neither the ability nor work ethic to achieve them.
"And just whose fault is that?!"
"Yours, I do believe. Perhaps if you could do more than make cow eyes at him from across the room, stick your elbow in the butter dish, and squeak like a trodden mouse every time he so much as spoke to you, that wouldn't be the case, but it is. Harry is myboyfriend," and best friend, and one of the loves of my life, "and we are both quite happy with that."
"He's not yours yet," Ginny responded with a scowl. Hermione mentally shook her head; there was no way to break the girl's obsession. If being forcefully interrogated via Veritaserum like a criminal and then told right to her face that Harry wanted nothing to do with her couldn't set her straight, nothing would. "I can offer him more than you ever could!"
"Personality disorders, boyish figure, full-blown Oedipus complex? I don't think he'll be all that appreciative. I, on the other hand, can give him a loving partner who knows him well enough for us to converse with a look and can keep him both mentally and physically engaged. Just accept it and move on, Ginerva; in any fight for Harry's heart, I've already won."
The red-head moved to draw her wand, only to see Hermione's own already pointing at her. "What are you going to do? Not only am I armed while you're not, I'm superior to you in both magical power and spell knowledge. You have nothing that can hurt me, but I trained with Harry for the Triwizard Tournament. We weren't looking for tickling hexes, I can assure you of that."
"I know the Bat-Bogey Hex!"
"So Gin-Gin's got herself a prank spell," Hermione mocked, anger rising at the brat's overconfidence. Did Ginny really think that was enough? If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was being underestimated; she may not be able to kill in cold blood like Harry and Luna, but she was no whimpering coward! "I get a bunch of mucus slapping at my face, big deal. Meanwhile, I've turned you into a smear on the wall. A simple Finite will solve my problem; nothing will do that for you. Let me give you a little advice: if you're going to try stealing Harry from me, you damn well better have a strong bite to back up your bark. Otherwise, you're going to find yourself in a world of hurt."
She threw her book and the pajamas she had pulled out back into her trunk before slamming it shut. Shouldering the girl out of the way, she carried her belongings out of the room. Ginny apparently couldn't resist one last taunt. "Going to go back home now? Good, Harry will be happier without you keeping us apart."
"No, I'm going to ask Sirius for another room. Maybe he'll put me in one on the third floor, next to Harry's." The screech was all the warning she needed, and she kicked the door closed. Unfortunately, Ginny hadn't cast a spell; instead, she chose a physical assault and, from the bang and thud, ran head-first into the door. The thick and garbled moan indicated a broken nose.
Hermione smirked as she walked up the stairs. No matter the fallout from her actions, that had been fun.
The next morning, Harry woke early and indulged in one of his favorite activities to delay getting up to face the day. With each stroke of his hand down Hermione's spine, her sleeping form twitched and moaned as she snuggled deeper into his side. Despite the trouble they would face downstairs — And there willbe trouble, he thought in exasperation — there was one very nice benefit from Hermione's and Ginny's fight. Sirius had negligently told her she could move into whatever room she wanted, and it hadn't taken her two seconds before she was pushing his clothes in the wardrobe to the side to make room for her own.
After one final shiver, the brunette stretched herself out alongside him. "Goo' mor'in'," she slurred.
"Good morning to you, too, sleepyhead. Time to wake up and face the music."
"Do we have to?" she whined with a yawn. "Can't we just tell them to bugger off and leave us alone for a while? I'm too warm and comfy to deal with Molly's wailing."
He rolled his eyes; Hermione was many things, but a morning person she was not. "Yes, we have to. If we don't, she'll make even more noise about us sharing a bed."
"You mean she'll make noise about us sharing a bed with each other, rather than Ron and Ginny," she retorted as she reluctantly stood up and rifled through drawers. "Where did I put my bras?"
"Next one to the left." Accepting her mumbled thanks, he stretched out on the bed. "How do we want to handle this? Molly's not going to take our relationship well."
Hermione pulled on a blouse before she responded. "Does it really matter how she takes it? The woman can throw herself in the Thames for all I care. We just need to come up with a convincing cover story about how we managed to get together so we can avoid too much questioning from your wardens."
"Already ahead of you on that one. I told Sirius that I couldn't share a room with Ron because I was taking the coach to your house and we rather inevitably started dating. Considering most of the guarding was done by Dung…"
"Good point. Did you also tell him why you were visiting me? We need to make sure our stories match completely."
"I had to talk to someone and was effectively banished from the Wizarding World."
She grimaced. "Ouch, that must have hurt for him to hear."
"It did, but I had just been attacked by Dawlish and questioned by Madam Bones. I was a little on edge." He caught the trousers and shirt she tossed to him and tugged them on. "Shall we?"
The pair entered the kitchen and were immediately set upon by Molly. "Hermione Granger! How could you do something like that?!"
"Intelligence, beauty, and natural talent," Hermione replied. Sitting, she glanced at the steaming older woman. "Was that not the answer you were looking for?"
"You attacked my daughter!"
Seeing that everyone's eyes were on her, she sighed and said, "I didn't attack Ginny; she ran into the door on her own. She wouldn't have been injured had she not charged at me."
"Charged at you?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance. "Whatever for?"
"She was unhappy that we're dating. Apparently, she wanted you for herself, and didn't care if she hurt me to make it so."
Now it was Ginny their audience was staring at. The girl was reddening in embarrassment and fury, but before she could explode, Ron finally raised his head from his plate and turned towards them. "'Oo are 'oo 'a'ing, 'Arr?"
"Chew, swallow, then speak," Hermione snapped with a scowl. "Honestly, after four years, I would have thought you learned that."
Ron returned her look and forcefully swallowed. "Lay off, Hermione. No one cares. Whoever you're dating, Harry, I feel sorry for her. Ginny's got a wicked hex."
"I'm dating Hermione, Ron. We just said that."
"You? Hermione? What?" The spells Harry and Luna had laid on Ron on the train activated again, and he whipped his hands down to cover the stain at his groin.
Unfortunately, he forgot that he was still holding his fork.
Doing his best to ignore Ron's high-pitched yell, as were all the males, Harry turned to the instigator of this debacle. "Ginny, I hardly know you, and even if I did, I wouldn't consider dating someone who attacked my girlfriend. I'm with Hermione; if you were our friend, you would just step away and be happy for us." Perhaps a public rejection would work where a private confrontation had not, but he doubted it. The way she was going, she would put herself on their list of enemies before too much longer.
"No, I won't allow it." Molly had apparently cleared her mind from the image of her plans crashing to the ground and was now glaring at them. "You two are far too young to be dating. You will call it off, and maybe we'll discuss it next summer."
"I told you yesterday that you aren't my mother. Do not act like it."
"I believe I said something similar a few days ago, Mrs. Weasley," Harry added. "You have no control over our decisions, and we have not asked for your advice. Kindly stay out of this."
The matriarch was not to be denied. "Obviously, you both need a proper mother figure —"
"No, we don't, and even if we did, we wouldn't want you for it. If all of you will excuse me, I seem to have lost my appetite." Hermione stood and stomped out the door.
Harry rose as well. Like Hermione, he hated the woman for what she had done and was planning to do again; he just hid it better. "Mrs. Weasley, your insistence on treating us like two of your children is rapidly burning through any respect we have for you. I recommend you stop before you lose it completely." His warning given, he left in search of his lover. That won't stop Molly, but perhaps it will buy us some time. Dealing with her, Ron, and Ginny all day, every day is wearing on our patience. September better hurry up; I don't think we'll be able to hold ourselves back much longer.
If you will allow me to beat a dead horse for a moment: Molly was joking about using a love potion on Arthur in book 3. We found out that Voldie was conceived by Merope Gaunt using a love potion to date-rape Tom Riddle in book 6. Did Rowling not realize how messed up that is?
Chapter 20
Summer's End
Much to Molly's, Ron's, and Ginny's disgust, the rest of Grimmauld Place's occupants were enthusiastic and congratulatory about Harry and Hermione being together. Of course, they all showed their approval in different ways: Sirius shouted to them whenever he found a cozy, empty room that he thought would be excellent for a snogging session; Lupin smiled faintly and mumbled about James and Lily a few times when he caught them holding hands; and even Moody gave them a gruff congratulations before reminding them that anyone targeting them would now try to use their significant other's appearance to get close enough to deliver the fatal blow. The old Auror truly did not trust anyone, it seemed.
Tonks, though, was the most fun. She elected to prove that she was indeed Sirius's cousin by constantly teasing them and trying for a blush. Had they truly been fifteen and sixteen and dating for the first time, she likely would have gotten a kick out of it. Instead, she had to deal with two adults who had been lovers for almost seven years; they found it quite amusing to turn the tables whenever she gave particularly raunchy advice. The metamorph's poleaxed expression when Hermione first rejoined that she wasn't interested in a suggestion because Harry was too large for it to be comfortable was priceless.
Of course, not everything was wonderful. Molly showed her displeasure by assigning the couple more and more tasks with her two younger children, perhaps hoping that either Ron or Ginny could tempt the person of their affections to end the relationship, only for Harry and Hermione to refuse. This was a shock to the harridan, who had apparently never been told 'no' before that summer. Interspersed between the rejected chores were lectures that were ignored and possibly potions to make them more pliable, though the adults in teenagers' skins were unconcerned thanks to Hermione's neutralizing potions.
All good things must come to an end, however, and when the overbearing woman came in on the last day of vacation only to see them packing their trunks with clothes pulled from the same chest of drawers, Mount Molly erupted once more.
"…and you violated the trust we showed you! I expected more from you especially, Hermione, though I don't know why, considering you've started dressing like a shameless tart. Obviously you've spent too much time with Muggles if you think it's fine to be a scarlet woman. Why… Are you two even listening to a word I've said?!"
Hermione looked up from where she was rearranging her books for the third time in order to fit the last of her socks into the trunk. "Harry, have you any idea what is making that racket?"
It was a supreme act of will not to start laughing at the matriarch's face and his friend's faux-innocent smile. "Whatever do you mean, Mione?"
"I could swear I keep hearing this annoying screech, like seabirds fighting over some chips left on the shore."
"I wouldn't know. I've never been to the beach." Which was no longer true, considering that the trio had spent quite a bit of time visiting Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage. Veela lived primarily on France's southern coast, so Fleur had been understandably horrified when he revealed that he had never seen the sea before seeking refuge with them. She insisted that he and the girls come visit whenever they wished, and then introduced them to numerous French customs, including… Oh, Merlin, please don't go there.
Hermione had apparently followed a similar train of thought, for she smirked wickedly and said, "Well, we'll just have to correct that. My parents were planning to visit France next summer, and being a teenage boy, you'll absolutely love Nice."
"Why is that?" he asked, mentally bracing for the explosion.
"It has a topless beach."
"Enough!" Molly shrieked. "I do not want to hear any more of these lies! There is no way adults would let children act so… so… disgusting, even if they are French."
Hermione rolled her eyes and faced the woman. "Mrs. Weasley, I've been to the French Riviera. You obviously haven't. Don't argue about things you don't know; it only makes you look like a bigger fool." She turned her back on Molly, whose face was reddening to a shade reminiscent of the late, unlamented Vernon Dursley. Knowing the harpy's temper, Harry kept a careful eye out; should he see even a splinter of a wand, he would curse her and damn the consequences.
Thankfully, Molly was capable of suppressing her desire to lash out this time, and his lover took a moment to slam the lid of her trunk down. "Well, that's every bit of space in here. Harry, do you mind if I throw my last few things in your trunk tomorrow?"
"You know I don't. We're just in time for lunch, too; Lady Hermione, may I have the honor?" He offered an elbow, and Hermione giggled before linking her arm in his.
They were halfway down the stairs when he whispered in her ear, "Mione, must you antagonize her so when we only have to bear her presence for another day?"
"Yes," she said simply, causing him to nearly miss the next step. "If I can't throw her down the stairs just yet, you can be sure that I will needle her every chance she gives me. Besides, I'm conducting an experiment."
"An experiment?" He stopped and turned to face her. "What kind of experiment?"
"Whether or not magic protects witches from anger-induced strokes."
He shook his head in irritation. "Hermione, if my mere presence didn't cause Vernon, a magic-hating Muggle, from having a stroke in the sixteen years I lived in that house, annoying Molly won't do it in a few weeks."
"Huh?" Harry and Hermione turned to see Ron staring at them in confusion. "What do you mean, you lived with the Muggles for sixteen years? You're only fifteen."
"Obliviate." With the ginger's eyes now glazed as he forgot the past minute, the pair continued down the stairs. "Don't waste any more of your time with her, please."
Hermione huffed in disappointment. "All right, I won't cause further problems this summer." She opened the door to the kitchen and stopped. "Professor McGonagall? What are you doing here?"
"I was just about to start looking for the two of you. Your Hogwarts letters," the Scottish witch said, pulling out said envelopes.
Hermione swiftly opened hers, forcing a gasp as she saw the contents. She pulled out a small scarlet and gold badge. "Prefect?"
"Of course," McGonagall laughed. "Who else could you see me choosing?"
"Oh, thank you so much, Professor. Harry and I will do you and Gryffindor House proud!"
McGonagall blinked in surprise. "Mr. Potter isn't a prefect, Ms. Granger."
"He's not?"
"I'm not?"
"Well, no," the woman answered lamely.
Puffing up in indignation, Hermione stared down their head of House. "And why not? Saving the Philosopher's Stone, killing a basilisk, competing against seventeen year olds and still becoming Triwizard Champion? To use your own words, Professor, who else could we see you choosing?"
"Hermione, it's not a big deal," he said, pulling her into a hug. "If I'm not prefect, I'm not prefect. That leaves me with more time to do other things this year."
"But it's the principle of the thing! There is no one else in the school who can claim to have done anything close to what you've accomplished, and yet she's going to ignore your status as a leader amongst the students? It's a travesty!"
"Ms. Granger," McGonagall offered tentatively, "I did want Mr. Potter as the boys' prefect. I was overruled by the Headmaster."
That did not cool the brunette's temper. "Except the Headmaster chooses the Head Boy and Girl, not the prefects. That is the job of the heads of Houses. Dumbledore can't overrule you unless you let him."
"That is quite enough. Headmaster Dumbledore is a very wise man; if he though it best Mr. Potter was not prefect, he must have his reasons."
Oh, he has his reasons, all right. Not that they're good ones, Harry thought furiously. Dumbledore knew his words carried a great deal of weight with the other students, which the man had to stop; can't let the sacrifice get ideas above his station, after all. "Very well. Since there is no other recourse…"
"At least Neville will make a good partner. This will certainly be a boost to his confidence."
McGonagall frowned as she handed the rest of the Weasleys their letters. "Mr. Longbottom isn't my other prefect, either."
"Of course not," the brunette muttered. "Dean is a decent choice, I suppose, though his reputation as a womanizer does cause me some understandable concern."
"Nor is it Mr. Thomas."
Hermione scowled. "You may or may not know this, but Seamus and I had some rather harsh words at the end of last term. I'm worried that us having to work together might cause some… unpleasantness."
"Mr. Finnigan is not my prefect, either. You are not normally this obtuse, Ms. Granger."
"Well, I can't see who else you could have possibly chosen!"
"Prefect?" Ron said, staring at his letter.
The intelligent girl whirled back to face the professor, eyes glinting with true righteous fury. Apparently, Harry being passed up for prefect had disturbed her more in the original timeline that she had let on. "You gave Ronald the position?"
"Yes," McGonagall stated hesitantly. "I'm surprised you didn't think I would."
Looking down at the badge with fake sorrow, Hermione laid it on the table. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I can't accept this. Even if I ignore that Harry was cheated out of the position, I have enough on my plate keeping him out of trouble. I just don't have the time to do my own assignments, complete the work of two prefects, and stop Ron from abusing his authority. You need to find someone else."
"I won't abuse anything!" Ron exploded.
"You will, and you know it. I refuse to be held liable for your immaturity."
McGonagall interrupted their growing argument. "Ms. Granger, please be reasonable. Who else could I choose for the girls' prefect?"
"You already chose Ronald for the boys'; I'm sure you can find someone equally undeserving as my replacement."
The professor just stared in shock, then shook her head. "I must say that I am disappointed in your attitude."
"I could say the same for yours."
Harry tugged his lover gently out of the room. "Are you sure that was the right choice, Mione? I remember how much you enjoyed being prefect."
"I stand by what I told McGonagall a minute ago. There is no way anyone without an ulterior motive could say you shouldn't be prefect. We'll just have to see which eventually wins out: her desire for me to have the position, her upcoming disgust with Ronald, or her subordination to Dumbledore."
Molly joined them a few moments later, an air of superiority surrounding her. "It's a shame you gave up being a prefect, Hermione. It's something to be proud of in our world."
"Better my pride suffers than my integrity," Hermione shot back.
Mentally sighing at the similarities between Ron and his mother, Harry intervened before the conflict could turn violent. "Is there something you needed, Mrs. Weasley?"
"Yes, dear," Molly replied. "Since you have to return to Hogwarts tomorrow, I thought it best that I go ahead and get everyone's school supplies at once. Would you run up to your room and get your key for me?"
I bet you're only asking because you can't find it on your own, he thought. Predicting that the harpy would try something like this, he had left his Gringotts key in the study of Potter Manor; with the Fidelius ward up, only he and those he told the Secret to, namely the elves and his girls, could go in and remove it, and only he could reveal its location. Rather than immediately answer, he opened the letter that was still in his hand and glanced over the enclosed list. Same as the last time we lived through this. Excellent. "Actually, you don't need you to buy anything for us."
"Of course I do. You didn't know what supplies you needed until today."
"Oh, we didn't know; it's just a lucky coincidence. We refilled our potion ingredients and replaced our old uniforms this summer. As for the books," he pointed out the two texts listed, "we knew we would need the fifth Goshawk book, and I picked up a number of Defense works while we were in Flourish and Blotts. Slinkhard was included in that."
"Wasn't that the book you looked through and said wasn't useful outside of a schoolyard brawl?" Hermione asked.
"That's the one. All three hundred pages can be boiled down to a single sentence: run to the nearest authority figure and tell them what happened. It's useless tripe." Which was why he hadn't actually bought it. They knew what the cover looked like, so a simple glamour would allow them to read real books in Umbridge's class. After raiding five manors, it wasn't like they had a dearth of material.
"Then I guess I won't worry about getting my own copy."
Molly's face was so red that Harry half-expected steam to whistle out her ears. "You two are only children. I'm sure you have forgotten something, and if you give me your key, I'll make sure you have it before school starts."
"Thanks, but no thanks, Mrs. Weasley." He and Hermione stepped through the open doorway into the kitchen, and he turned around to look back. "If we need something, we have the weekend to owl order it. Now, can you stop demanding my Gringotts key? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were planning to take money from my vault for your own purposes."
He carefully kept his face blank as Molly's own drastically paled. With all the non-Weasley witnesses who had just heard his declaration, there was no way she could continue her requests, not without inviting some serious suspicion. Sure, she would probably try to tear through his trunk once again, but with it being warded and containing nothing of value, not even his invisibility cloak, he didn't really care.
Let her waste her time. Without income stolen from my vault to augment Arthur's pittance of a salary, she'll become desperate. Desperate people make more mistakes, and if she makes one large enough, I might just set Mione on her, after all.
"For the last time, Sirius, no!"
Sirius looked at Harry pleadingly. "Come on, it'll be fine. I'll even be Padfoot; no one will recognize me."
"Really?" He looked askance at his godfather. "Tell me, Sirius, which Death Eater was it who helped Voldemort return to life?"
"You said it was Wormtail."
"Yes, I did. Who were the Marauders?"
"Me, Moony, your father, and Wormtail. I don't see where you're going with this," Sirius said.
"So, if Pettigrew knows about you being an Animagus, and is a Death Eater, why would you think that the rat hasn't spilled everything he knows to his master and new best mates?" Harry nodded as Sirius's face finally indicated comprehension. "There's still a Kiss-on-sight order out on you. All it would take is one 'Imperiused' Death Eater — Lucius Malfoy, for instance — hitting you with an Animagus-reversal spell, and you would be in shackles waiting for the worst snog of your life."
"Actually, I think Stephanie Edgecomb —"
"Padfoot, I don't need or want to hear about your sexual misadventures." There were things about his godfather's life that he simply was not meant to know. "The point is, it will be much safer for everyone if you stay here." Seeing that Sirius was gearing up to resume the argument, he continued, "I already lost you for twelve years because of your impulsivity; can we not make that a permanent arrangement, please?"
Sirius grimaced at that; Harry knew it was a low blow, but it was a point that had to be made. An upset Padfoot was infinitely preferable to a dead Padfoot. "Fine. James would have —" Sirius snapped his mouth closed, but not soon enough.
"What was that? My father would have let you do something as stupid as come along to one of the year's largest concentrations of magicals, and therefore Aurors, with you being a wanted prison escapee?" Harry asked softly, his temper rising. Across the hallway, Hermione winced; she and Luna both had told him at times that they almost missed how he used to shout in anger. Like a serpent, his tongue had become more venomous as he aged. "If I might remind you, Hogwarts in the seventies did not boast Dementors, basilisks, or deranged Dark Lords as part of its normal dangers. I, unlike my father, encounter quite enough trouble without being reckless for the sheer fun of it."
"I've said it before, but you are so much like Lily it's scary. She had a way of cutting you down until you felt like you were all of three inches tall, too."
"If you still feel three inches tall, I obviously wasn't trying hard enough. I was aiming for less than one." Harry grinned at the man-child, letting Sirius know that he wasn't too angry. In the two weeks they had spent together, this was the first time Sirius had commented negatively on his actions based on what his father would have done. Regardless of what Molly implied, the Animagus clearly knew he was not James. "Besides, you know that I would love it if you could come see me off the platform, but it's just not safe."
"Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"And I'm not asking you to. Merlin's beard, I certainly don't."
Sirius nodded, then pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you. You had better be back here for Christmas, understand?" At his nod, Sirius released him, then gestured to Hermione. When in range, she too was pulled into an embrace. Listening closely, Harry could just barely make out the words whispered between them.
"It's silly to ask this, but take care of him for me. I couldn't love him any more if he was my own."
"I always do, and I always will. He won't say it, but you should know he feels the same for you."
Clearing his throat roughly, he turned to Tonks, who was standing nearby. "Any chance we could leave now? There's no need for Mione and I to wait for the Weasleys. I think they'll be a while longer," he added as a loud bang sounded overhead.
The metamorph quickly wiped a tear from one eye; obviously, she had also heard the pair. "I don't see any reason why not. Sirius, let the girl go before her boyfriend gets jealous."
Another round of goodbyes delayed them, but soon Harry and Hermione were on their way, accompanied by Tonks, now disguised as an old woman, and Moody. The twenty minute walk was silent, each person either occupied by their own thoughts or watching the gamboling squirrels with undue suspicion. Finally arriving at King's Cross, the quartet took advantage of the bustling crowd to slip through the barrier separating Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from the rest of the station unnoticed.
"It was great to meet you," Tonks said as she hugged Harry and Hermione. "We'll see each other again soon, I expect."
"Soon? Is the Order providing security during Hogsmeade visits, perchance?"
Tonks snickered at Hermione's question and waggled her finger. "Ah, ah, ah. Can't be telling you something like that. You'll just have to wait and see. C'mon, Mad-Eye; we better make sure the rest of the troop haven't gotten lost or kidnapped." She ignored the scarred Auror's paranoid ramblings as they departed.
Starting at the back car, the pair quickly found a compartment that was occupied solely by a svelte blonde girl reading a magazine. They slipped inside and stowed their luggage before sealing and silencing the door. Sitting, Harry immediately noticed a small wooden crate filled with straw on the seat next to Luna. Something about it, though, made him unwilling to ask what it contained. "So, how was your trip to Siberia?"
"Cold." Luna looked up from her Quibbler, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. "But very… interesting. And expensive; you wouldn't believe how much onions cost over there. How was London?"
"It would have been better if someone wasn't so reasonable," Hermione huffed.
"Because torturing Molly in the middle of dinner would be easy to explain." Harry shook his head with a sigh; perhaps, now that she and the Weasley matriarch would be in different countries, the brunette could finally calm down. Her persistent rage, so out of character for her, worried him. "Other than holding Mione back and revealing our relationship, it was uneventful."
The trio were silent, then he sighed once again. "Okay, I need to ask. What's in the box?"
Luna smiled, then removed the lid. At first glance, Harry thought she had brought a rabbit, but he had never seen one that pastel shade of blue before. Closer examination revealed that it had short, curled horns much like a ram; it also lacked legs, making it little more than an enormous ball of fluff. "What in Merlin's name isthat?"
"I thought that was obvious," the blonde replied, cuddling the animal into her chest. "You told me before we left the school that if Daddy and I found a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, you'd let me keep one as a pet."
"That's a Snorkack? You and Xeno were right?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
Luna smirked while lowering the creature to the floor. Once there, it rocked back and forth for a bit before squirming forward much like a slug would. He now understood its strange appearance; the wide belly it moved along on would act like a sled, keeping it on top of deep snow. "We almost didn't find them. It turns out that the reason they're so elusive is that they produce a weak Notice-Me-Not-like effect. When we saw that the onions we set out were disappearing, Daddy put a supersensory charm on us both. Clyde's wearing a collar that negates his personal field, which is how you can see him."
"Clyde?"
"Oh, yes, that's his nickname," she answered to his deepening confusion. "His real name is Vociferous Limax Oglethorpe the Third, but that's too long for daily use, so everyone just calls him Clyde."
"Third?" It had been a long time since Luna shocked him into one-word questions, but she had certainly achieved it now.
"Well, I've already had pets named Vociferous Limax Oglethorpe the First and Second, so Third would be next in the sequence."
This brought Hermione out of her shock. "I'm sorry, but did you say everyone calls him Clyde?"
"Well, it's really just everyone who's met him, so me, and Daddy, and our translator, and the people standing around the Portkey Terminal in Tobolsk, including one very surly group of vampires who didn't like that I wouldn't let them try his blood, and the hit wizards providing security for the platform, and now you two."
"That's… quite a number of people."
"It is, isn't it?"
Harry shook his head; something about this absurd situation was niggling his memories. A sudden snap of his fingers caught the girls' attention. "Five years."
They both blinked in his direction. "What?"
"Five years," he repeated, looking at Hermione. "That was the bet, that Luna couldn't find a Snorkack within five years. It's only been three."
Luna's eyes brightened in glee. "I had forgotten about that. Standard forfeit, Mione."
The brunette covered her face and groaned. The girls' normal prize for their wagers was that the other had to dress in a kinky outfit for seven nights, not necessarily consecutively. He often served as the unofficial bookie, but he didn't mind in the least; no matter who lost the bet, he won. "Fine. What do I have to wear?"
"Hmm… I was always partial to the sexy schoolgirl. Unless you have any ideas, Harry?"
"Why, I just might." Drawing his wand, he projected on the floor a half-scale illusion of Hermione that he had been saving for a rainy day. "Does this meet with your approval?"
Luna stared at the moving figure. Wearing a veil above loose, sheer leggings with a top and belt covered in golden discs, the fake Hermione undulated her hips and abdomen rhythmically. The real Hermione took one look and slapped her hands over her face again in embarrassment; the belly dancer outfit really did not leave much to the imagination.
Only after the show was over did the blonde look back up. "Luna like. Hermione…"
"Fine, fine. Just as long as it's after your birthday." The young woman huffed and glared at him. "I will get you back for this humiliation."
Harry shrugged blithely. As far as he was concerned, whatever revenge she cooked up would be totally worth it.
I missed Luna. Anyone who can identify the movie quote gets extra kudos (hint: Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt).
Chapter 21
Loop-de-loop
After a bit of groveling to cheer Hermione up, the train ride went smoothly. The brunette walked them through the month she had spent bouncing around Australia, describing each museum, art gallery, historical landmark, and architectural beauty in such detail that Harry was sure he could write a highly accurate travel guide despite never leaving Britain's shores. More important in his eyes was that she had repaired the somewhat strained relationship she had with her parents, even strengthening it due to her increased years and maturity. As dusk settled over the countryside and Hermione ran out of words, Luna jumped in and swept them away to chilly Siberia. Unsurprisingly, the Lovegoods' expedition was less safari and more comedy of errors, and he suspected more than once that Luna wanted to make them pass out from laughter. He also resolved to avoid yaks at all costs; who knew they were such ornery creatures?
Though if Xeno really had tried to force them into burlap diapers, Harry supposed he couldn't blame them too much.
When the whistle blew, indicating five minutes until they arrived at their destination, the trio changed into their school robes, glad for the space the half-full compartment provided them. A basic avoidance charm provided them solitude, not to mention a bit of entertainment as Ron, Ginny, and Malfoy had swept past multiple times. The two boys had most unfortunately not started dueling in the middle of the corridor, or at least not in front of them, but their pursuers' confused expressions prompted increasingly outlandish voice-overs courtesy of Hermione and Luna, which were just as funny in his opinion. They waited until the train car was empty before they departed.
"I am so glad I'm not in charge of this mess again," Hermione sighed as they walked the short distance to a line of thestral-pulled carriages. Taking a moment to pat the highly intelligent beasts of burden, they climbed in. "So, what's the plan for the school year?"
Luna shook her head. "Silly Mione, that one's obvious. We're going to sow utter chaos, break students' and teachers' spirits left and right, skip class, have lots of kinky sex, and generally join Harry as public enemies. It's going to be so much fun!"
"Don't forget stealing several dozen fortunes," said public enemy added. "Since we don't have to be in classes until Monday, I figured we could go ahead and hit Rookwood's place tomorrow. That will be the last of the empty manors, and then we can start on the occupied ones. Speaking of that, did either one of you design the mark we're going to be leaving?"
"Finished it in Siberia," Luna stated. "I'll show it to you later."
They sat in comfortable silence for the few minutes it took the black, winged horses to pull them to the castle's doors. Once stopped, Luna picked up Clyde's crate, Hermione did the same to Crookshank's basket, and Harry smirked, Hedwig's cage sitting empty in Potter Manor. There was a definite benefit to having an owl as a familiar.
After the girls set their carriers in the corner of the Entrance Hall where all the other pets waited to be whisked to the dormitories, Luna drifted to the Ravenclaw table and claimed a seat separated from her housemates. He and Hermione joined a waving Neville and grinning Lavender and Parvati at the middle of the table. The other students were eerily silent as they passed, only to resume the rumor-monging even more intensely. He mentally shrugged; much to his displeasure, he had not stopped being the object of wild tales after Voldemort's second defeat. They had, in fact, gotten worse, leading him to just ignore them and those who spread them. He could find far better things to do than concern himself with brainless babbling.
"Toad present and accounted for," Hermione muttered as she looked around, drawing a curious look from Neville. "Goat, bat, and ferret, as well."
"Kitty's busy, but bear's missing. You think he's enjoying cheese and wine again?"
She nodded. Unless this timeline had diverged drastically from their own, they wouldn't see Hagrid until early November. As much as he missed his large friend, this was probably for the best; Dumbledore's word was gospel to the half-giant.
Hermione, who had continued scanning the room while he ruminated, suddenly snorted. At his confused look, she mouthed, "Look at Greengrass."
Barely hiding a scowl, he turned in his seat to examine the Slytherin table. He had had an issue with that family ever since the eldest daughter, Daphne, attempted to seduce him after the Second War and her father prosecuted the trio when she failed. That's strange, he thought as he glanced over the Snakes more slowly, I can't see her any… Oh.
He spun back around to glare at his snickering lover. "Well, at least I won't have to worry about him chasing after me." Hermione just laughed; at long last, they had found evidence that they had not, in fact, simply traveled back in time. "We're still getting them, though."
"Oh, absolutely."
McGonagall set a three-legged stool and a frayed hat in front of the staff table, cutting off all the whispered conversations around them. The next twenty minutes were taken up by the crop of first years being divided into their Houses, and he clapped automatically for all the new Gryffindors. It was impossible to feign any enthusiasm.
The students applauded as Rose Zeller became the latest Badger, most because they could finally get to the important task of stuffing their faces. While the Great Hall was full of noise, Harry felt a tug on his robes. He quickly cast his eyes around only to find no one there. Confused, he patted the section of clothing that had been disturbed, then slipped his hand into his pocket. Someone had slipped him a roll of parchment? Resolving to read it later, whatever it said, he grabbed the platter of roast making its way past him.
Once the last of the desserts had faded from the table, Dumbledore stood, effortlessly attracting everyone's attention. "Now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your time for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest on the grounds is out of bounds to students… and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too."
Harry rolled his eyes. Let's see: rebellious teenagers, mysterious and potentially dangerous forest, no adult supervision whatsoever… whose bright idea was it to plant the Forbidden Forest around the school again?
"We have had two changes in staffing this ear. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
He glared at the squat woman in the awful pink cardigan. Enjoy your time in the spotlight, Dolores Jean Umbridge, because we're going to make your life a living Hell, and only after you've fallen off the edge of sanity will I finally grant you the mercy of death.
Unaware of his dark thoughts, Dumbledore continued his announcements. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —"
"Hem, hem." Umbridge stood, not that it made much of a difference in height, and the old man frowned faintly before sitting in his seat. Harry wasn't sure if he should enjoy this or not; on the one hand, it was always amusing to see Dumbledore taken down a peg or two, something interrupting him had definitely done, but on the other, he despised the toad.
"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kinds words of welcome." Her squeaky voice made him cringe, and a glance at Hermione showed she wasn't taking it any better. In fact, she was glaring at Umbridge with even more hatred than she had at Molly. "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"
Clearing her throat again — Harry wondered if, not for the first time, if that was an affectation or if speaking in so high a pitch was truly that rough on her voice — Umbridge forced her face to an expression that was vaguely businesslike. "The —"
What came out of her mouth next was not what he expected. An actual ribbit, surprisingly deep for her small size, echoed through the silent hall.
Harry lost his battle for self-control, but he wasn't the only one. The entire student body, even the Slytherins, cracked up as Umbridge repeated her annoying tic and tried to continue speaking. The same thing happened again, the school laughing even harder.
After the third time, Dumbledore rose from his chair and ushered her to her own. "Well, I'm sure Professor Umbridge will be more than willing to continue her speech after a visit to Madam Pomfrey. As I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held over the weekend, so approach the various Captains if you wish to join your House's team. Now, I'm sure you all wish to head to your nice, warm beds, so I will bid you all good night."
Standing proudly, his prefect badge polished to a shine, Ron called out to the first years. "Hey — hey, you lot! Midgets! Come on and follow me!"
"Again, so glad I have nothing to do with this," Hermione huffed. "Discipline in the House this year is going to be totally nonexistent."
Harry frowned and looked to her. "Surely the other four prefects can keep order, can't they?"
"No, or at least, they didn't; they were too used to following Percy's lead. I'm sure you weren't paying attention last year, but no one was willing to step up." She leaned in and whispered, "Why do you think Ron and I were in charge fifth year? We were the only ones who wanted to be."
"Makes sense, I suppose, given wizards' natural tendency to follow the loudest voice," he sighed.
Walking out with the rest of the crowd, he cast a Notice-Me-Not around them and pulled Hermione into an empty room just off the front hall. "Was that really necessary?" she griped. He shrugged and pulled the parchment from his pocket.
Well, that was amusing, wasn't it? It's amazing what a minor compulsion can do in the right hands. Anyway, you need to call Dobby, then go back two hours. Umbitch's door has only a minor alert charm, so disabling it wasn't a problem. Set the compulsion into her deep subconscious; Poppy or Dumbles will be able to undo it if you don't.
He stared at the note in shock; he'd know that scrawl anywhere. Patience exceeded, Hermione took the slip from his hands. "What in the world does this mean?"
"I thought it was perfectly clear." His eyes shot to the other side of the room, where an invisibility cloak was being pulled off of… himself.
"Harry?" Hermione flicked her eyes between the two of them. "You're not supposed to be seen by your past self. McGonagall stressed that during third year."
Future him shook his head. "Seeing yourself doesn't cause the universe to unravel or anything. The trick is to not be seen unlessyou already know that you can travel back in time. Then you just have to ensure that the other you is really you and not an impostor."
"That's not hard to do. What did I and spiders have in common before Hogwarts?" he asked.
"We both lived in the cupboard under the stairs."
"You're you. Or me, rather." Only eight people knew that fact. Three were dead, one raised bulldogs, two were in the room, one was on her way to the Ravenclaw dorms, and the last was likely still in the Great Hall. "Thank goodness I enjoyed maths as much as I did; there wasn't much room for any other form of fun."
"Except I hated maths," the other Harry said with a smirk.
And only one person knew that. An answering smirk appeared on his own face. "Can't blame me for double-checking. Is two hours enough time?"
"Would I say go back that far if it wasn't?"
"Good point."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Hermione shouted. "What in the world is going on?"
Future Harry sighed. "It's not that complicated. He's going to go back in time, mess with Umbridge, pass his younger self a note saying to go back in time, answer the younger self's identity question, and hopefully walk to the dorms and sleep with a minimum of trouble. I'll tell you if he succeeded in that last part tomorrow."
"Funny, very funny. Harry, you'll explain what this was all about in two hours." She moved her finger from pointing at him to the older him. "And here you are. Explain."
"He has to leave first."
"Why?!"
The Harry from the present grinned. "Because obviously I already did."
Hermione glared at them. "Just get this over with. I don't need twoof you around any longer than necessary."
"Dobby." The house elf appeared and looked at Harry. Then he turned his head to look at Harry. "Ignore him. I need you to bring me the time turner in my study and my invisibility cloak."
"Master, Dobby already bes bringing you your cloak." Dobby popped away.
"Really?" Harry turned to his counterpart. "Why didn't you get yourcloak before going back?"
The other him shrugged his shoulders and handed the cloak to him. "There can only be one instance of the Hallows at a time. I think it has to do with them being made by Death rather than men."
"So if I can't take it back, you're giving it to me… Why?"
"Because obviously I already did."
"Ha. Ha. Ha." He took the time turner from the newly returned elf and draped the cloak over his shoulders. Slipping the chain around his neck, he twisted the dial twice and watched the hourglass spin.
Everything around him distorted and twirled for a moment before returning to normal. He looked down at his very visible body. "Bloody future selves always have to be right. Dobby!"
After the elf brought him the cloak from this time, he slipped out of the room. Deciding to bespell Umbridge during the feast, he made his way up two flights of stairs to her office to see why he had had been there. Magesight allowed him to identify the lone warding on the door. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, if I can't trust myself… He applied the counter-charm and slowly cracked the door open.
"Don't worry, Cornelius; I'll make sure the nasty little blighters know their place. When I'm done with them, there won't be even a hint of rebellion against the Ministry."
"Just don't foul this up for me. The last thing I need is Dumbledore convincing people that You-Know-Who is back. Lucius is sure he's angling for my job, you know."
"I know, dearie. You finish your work, and I will do mine. Do you want me to come back to the office afterward, say later tonight?"
"NO! I mean, no, but thank you for asking, Dolores. I'll let you go back to what you were doing."
Umbridge giggled to herself. "Oh, Cornelius, I'll get you eventually. Maybe when I'm done here, you'll finally let me get rid of that silly bint you married." She exited the room, frowning as she pulled the door closed. "Blasted castle's going to fall down around our ears one of these days."
Only after the toad was out of sight did Harry let out the breath he had been holding. "Great Merlin, not even Lestrange was that creepy." Opening the door again, he walked in an was immediately assaulted by pink. "Yeah, that's got to go."
Charming the walls a dull beige let him focus enough to poke around. He pulled out the drawers of her desk and quickly found a wooden box containing three long, black quills in the bottom-right one. With a grim smile, he tossed the box into the fireplace. "Incendio." The merry crackling of those vile instruments of torture raised his spirits immensely.
He next surveyed the plates hanging on one wall; as if they understood that they were in danger, the kittens decorating the porcelain scrambled to the edges. "Much as I would love to destroy these things, that would just warn Umbridge that something's wrong. Maybe something more subtle…" Thirty spells later, he turned his attention elsewhere. How long will it take for her to realize her imagination isn't the reason she's seeing pictures of werewolves on her plates?
A glance at his watch showed him that he had used up half an hour of his time; he wanted to get to the Great Hall so he could put the spell on Umbridge as soon as possible. Restoring the walls to their ghastly hue, he dashed off a note to himself, the original having been left in Hermione's hands, then left the room. He pulled the Hallow tighter about himself and shifted into his falcon form.
He had discovered an unusual trait of the artifact during the Third Voldemort War. The Animagus transformation caused whatever he was wearing to be absorbed so he didn't have to worry about coming back for it, but with few exceptions it also nullified whatever effect he had placed on his clothing. Donning Death's cloak, however, caused him to remain invisible and even removed the chance for it to slip off.
It took only minutes for him to return to the feast. He glided to the front of the staff table in the middle of the Sorting before resuming a bipedal shape; pointing his acacia wand at the woman's head, he pondered exactly what the compulsion should be. I know she'll croak, but what should I designate as the trigger? Saying 'detention', certainly, and perhaps 'point' and 'punish'? That would prevent her from lashing out at the students, at least for a while. She threatened the staff with Fudge as often as Draco does Lucius, so 'Ministry', 'Minister', 'Cornelius', and 'Fudge'. 'Undersecretary', too, since she takes so much pride in it. 'Lies', 'dead', 'defense', 'Headmistress'… Remembering how she tried to curse him at the end of the year, he added the incantations for the Unforgivables as well.
Keeping all that in mind, he gazed unseen into her eyes, slipping his mind just the tiniest bit into the cesspool that was her own. A gentle twirling of his wand and soft whisper of "Compulso" launched the magic.
Compulsion charms were considered to be nothing more than a minor hazard; they were normally quite easy to fight off, and a simple Finite Incantatem Mentis was all that was needed to purge them from the affected's mind. Harry, however, had learned never to fight fair and instead stacked the deck in his favor. The passive Legillimency he had employed, his natural talent for mental magics, the motion and incantation for one of the half-dozen spells he had mastered to the point of wandless and silent casting, the sheer power at his disposal, and a new wand adept at this branch of magic combined to force the command into the deep, dark recesses of her mind. From there, it would activate, forcing her to do nothing but croak until someone assisted her. The mental finishing charm would merely stop it until she said one of the trigger words again; actually removing it meant letting someone into the very center of her being, something he doubted she would ever permit.
Was it any wonder the Death Eaters had feared him? He had taken a charm taught at the end of second year and twisted it into a weapon as devastating as the Imperius.
The students suddenly applauded, dragging his attention back to the real world. Harry used the noise to cover his escape, pausing to slip his note into his younger self's pocket, and made his way out of the Hall to the library. He had a little over an hour before he had to meet Harry and Hermione, which meant plenty of time to visit the Restricted Section while Pince was stuck in the Great Hall.
Hermione stared at Harry as they walked to Gryffindor Tower. His family's cloak had fallen to the ground when the younger him vanished, allowing them to huddle under it and converse without anyone else being the wiser. "Merlin, that's quite a story to swallow."
"You don't believe me?" he asked, acting like he was hurt by her words.
"Of course I do. I've been at your side for fourteen years; I know exactly what you are capable of when you set your mind to it." She chewed her bottom lip slightly before continuing, "I just wonder how long it will hold."
"Several months at least, provided she lives that long. Spells seated in the subconscious are notoriously difficult to shake off," he assured her.
"So couldn't you, I don't know, hit her with enough compulsions that she supports us? Kind of like the Imperius but without the need for constant upkeep."
He shook his head. "No matter how much I overpowered it, the spell she's under is still a compulsion; it has a definite trigger and a definite effect, and the trick to it isn't that she can't fight off the effects but that it will constantly reactivate. To change her personality like you're suggesting would require months, maybe years, of work: viewing, removing, and altering her memories followed by gauging her responses in a systematic manner. I mean, I could do it, but it would be obvious something was wrong when neither one of us showed up until after Easter, and that's assuming we weren't found out before I was through. No, if it was that easy, I'd remove Ron's jealous, Ginny's fangirl, and Molly's domineering natures. Merlin, I'd rewrite Dumbledore into the grandfather figure he wants us to think he is! Unfortunately, while magic can do a lot, you can't just wave your wand and change someone's personalities."
She nodded sadly. They approached the entrance to the Tower, and Harry pulled off the cloak. "Do you remember the password, Mione?"
"It had to do with Neville's cactus and being quiet. Mumble… mimble… Mimbulus mimbletonia!"
The Fat Lady, her pink dress frillier than Hermione recalled, nodded with a sly smile. "I was wondering why I hadn't seen you two yet, but it seems my question has been answered. In you get." The portrait swung out, granting them entrance.
"There you are!" Dean Thomas exclaimed. "The twins have been going on about how you two are together, but they're just fooling around again, right?"
"Mione love, shall we lay to rest any doubts about us?" Harry asked, a mischievous grin emerging.
Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare, Harry James —" He swept her into a dip, his lips pressing against hers and cutting off her words. With a mental sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed into the kiss. She wasn't a fan of gratuitous affection in public, instead preferring to keep their expressions of love to themselves, but it would be hypocritical to chastise him considering she had done the exact same thing on the platform at the start of the summer.
All good things must come to an end, however, and eventually they remembered their bodies needed air. Whistles and catcalls caught their attention, causing her to blush; this was exactly why she didn't generally engage in this behavior. She raised herself up to give him another kiss, though just a quick peck this time. "It's late, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
"I know," Harry muttered. "Goodnight, love."
She smiled and walked up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, sure she would soon have company. Sure enough, a giggling Lavender and Parvati were right on her heels.
Since we're talking about Death and his Hallows' powers, now's the perfect time for you to visit apAidan's page and read Death and a Butterbeer Chaser, Hold the Cat. And, you know, all the rest of his stuff, too.
Do yourselves a favor and don't think about temporal physics too hard; it just gives you a headache. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going to have taken some aspirin.