Chapter 18
Chapter XVIII
Harry and Hermione loved their first Friday back. They had made an effort earlier in the week to get
homework done early, and had successfully done so. This left them the entire day to themselves. They were spending
it working on the wedding.
"Okay, we've got the flowers dealt with; the invites are pretty much a bust, since everyone except the Weasley
family are already here; and the rings are already chosen," Harry said. He looked up. "You'd said you wanted to use
those rings, right?"
"Yes, they're lovely, and I think it's perfect to have something of your parents being part of the wedding. Other
than you, of course," she finished with a laugh. She moved her shoulders oddly, and then grumbled. "I'm going to
have to ask the elves what they use to wash the shirts. This one is itchy, and I don't remember it being that way
before." She undid the shirt and pulled it off, laying it over the back of the sofa in the Gryffindor common room As
had been the case Monday, she wore nothing beneath it. "What else do we need to deal with?" she asked.
"Hmm," Harry mused. "Flowers, rings, invites, reception, gown – your gown! Do you have it?"
"Mum made sure we brought it when we came here. We've been dealing with Professor Flitwick and Professor
Vector to do the last minute charms and fixes to make sure it fits perfectly. Make sure your shoes are on tight, because
it'll blow your socks off otherwise."
"The most beautiful woman I know will be wearing it. Of course it will," he said simply and honestly.
She blushed demurely at his heartfelt comment. "So my clothes are taken care of. How about your suit,
Harry?"
"Is this a Muggle style wedding, or a magical one?" he asked. "That decides which I need."
"Well, magic will certainly be a part of it, so if you want dress robes for the occasion, then I certainly won't
complain."
"Good. I actually have a better idea on what kind of dress robe I might need than I do with Muggle suits, so I
was going to get permission to go into Diagon Alley on Saturday or Sunday to get fitted for one. Who are your maid
of honour and bridesmaids?"
"Ginny is maid of honour, and I asked Mum and Tonks to be my bridesmaids. I was so torn between Ginny
and Mum – it was Mum who insisted that I take Ginny as my maid of honour. We had a nice happy cry over it, and
she took them to get gowns for the ceremony. She made sure that they were things that all three can wear again."
"What's the colour scheme, so that we can make sure we match? I'll need to take Remus and Ron with me,
and probably Neville if he's willing to be one of my ushers."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry. "Honestly, love, why didn't you get all this straightened out before we
came to school? It would have been easy to deal with then, and you wouldn't be rushing now."
"It's a guy thing, okay? I had other things on my mind. And you know what a teeny little mind it is, too – I
can only have a few things on it at one time. But I'm focusing now, all right? I'm even talking about colours with
you. And speaking of colours…"
She waved her wand and a swatch of royal blue fabric flew into her hand. "This is the shade and material that
the dresses are made from. Take it with you to the tailors, and we'll match perfectly."
"Probably should go black for them, with the trim being blue, then. How about me? I'm an idiot when it
comes to this."
"No you're not, Harry. You're thinking quite clearly about what would look good. My dress is ecru, with
silver and gold highlights about it."
"Ecru. Eggshell. Off-white. Paper. Why are there all these names for something that can just as easily be
called off-white?" he laughed. "I know what you mean, though. How about navy dress robes for me, then?"
She closed her eyes for a moment, and then smiled. "I think that would be magnificent, Harry." She snapped
her fingers and waved her wand again. As something else came out of her bag, the portrait opened to let in a group of
fifth, sixth and seventh year students. Dean led the group, and he stopped dead as he looked toward the couch. She
looked up as the item hit her hand. "Hi guys. Harry and I will be out of your way on a few minutes. We're putting
the last touches on the wedding."
"Um, Hermione?" Dean asked, his voice coming out as little more than a squeak.
"Hmm?" she asked, finally focusing on him completely.
"You're … uh, you're …" he stammered.
Harry looked at her for a long moment, puzzled, before Ginny giggled. "I can tell you guys are used to it.
Hermione? Are you planning on giving the Gryffindor males stiffies all the time?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled.
Neville walked over, bright red. "Does it bother you to be … uh, topless … uh, around a group of boys?"
She looked down. "Oh! Sorry. My shirt was bothering me, so I took it off. Ask Ginny or Ron how I reacted
this summer, when their family happened to come over to my parents' house a little earlier than expected. Harry and I
had been in the swimming pool in only our skin." She shrugged. "I'm a naturist. There's nothing automatically
sexual about it. Yeah, if you're not used to it, you can end up reacting embarrassingly, but before the summer was out,
Harry was walking around my parents' house in the nude as well, with no embarrassment at all."
Parvati giggled. "Forgive some of us girls if the thought of a nude Harry Potter makes us tingle interestingly."
Hermione laughed, and her eyes took on a humorous look. "The sight of it will do it even more, then."
Dean cleared his throat. "Sorry, Hermione. Seeing a pretty girl with her shirt off is a fantasy most guys our
age have. You've just made every guy here very happy," he laughed, his blush darkening his skin.
She stood and walked over to him, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Dean. I never thought of myself as pretty."
"You are, even if none of us have ever told you before, and that's our fault," he said. "Harry's a very lucky
man."
"Are you really more comfortable that way?" Ginny asked.
"To be honest, when Harry and I are in the apartment alone over there, I tend to strip to my skin. Nothing
sexual – I'm just far more comfortable nude." She shrugged. "Sorry. I'll keep it in there, as to not offend anyone."
Harry was starting to scowl, but Lavender spoke up. "Honestly, we all dress the way we do down here because
that's the way it's done. If you're going to dress comfortably in your skin, then I reserve the right to walk around the
common room in bra and knickers!" There was some applause that stopped suddenly when an "Oof!" erupted from
Seamus.
"Err … that's fine for us, and I'm sure the seventh-years aren't going to object either," said Neville, diffidently.
"Hell no!" came a cry from Simon Blackmore, one of the seventh years, followed by "Ow!" as his girlfriend
whacked him on the arm.
"… but what about the little ones? I know I'd have melted right through the floor if I'd walked in here when I
was eleven and seen, say, Winnie Milne sitting around without her shirt on."
"Right, then. No scarring the lower classmen for life," agreed Harry. After a momentary mental conversation
with Hermione, he said, "How about this? We offer up the common room for our suites for those who want to study
or schmooze wearing less than what they normally would have to wear? Fifth years on up, and no coming in to just
ogle – you're there because you want to be more comfortable, not because you want to make someone else less
comfortable by staring. It's not exactly a small room itself, so we can accommodate a few people."
"Why?" Parvati asked simply.
"Because neither of us wants to make others uncomfortable by forcing them to experience something they don't
want to. If you're not comfortable in your skin around others, then why should I force it on you by walking around out
here nude?" he answered.
Ginny looked at Neville and winked before saying, "Don't worry your pretty head about that, Harry. Force
away!" She looked to Neville and added, "Maybe we can get Neville to do the same."
Neville turned a bright pink, and looked to Ron in worry. Ron simply said, "You know the threats we
Weasleys would give you, so do I really have to say them?"
"You'd be in line behind me," Neville said. "I have no intention of hurting her." He turned to Harry. "Thank
you for saving her life in our second year, Harry."
Ginny's jaw dropped, and tears came to her eyes. "Neville?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her nervously. "I've been smitten with you for a long time, Ginny. I just gained the courage …
hell, it took you sitting on my lap on the Express to get me to even contemplate admitting it. For a Gryffindor, I'm a
coward."
"Doesn't matter, Neville," Harry said. "It took Hermione and her mother ganging up on me to get me to admit
it. I basically told her mother how I felt, and didn't know Hermione was behind me listening to the whole thing." He
wasn't about to tell them how she had finally driven the point home. "Trust me on this – the women in our lives are
far more courageous than us, and we simply don't deserve them. But for some reason, they chose us, and the smart
man thanks his lucky stars every day of his life for that."
"Hear, hear!" Dean cried out. "Truer words were never spoken within my hearing." He looked to Hermione.
"I'll understand if you say no, but would you …"
"… pose for you someday?" she finished with a smile. "Certainly."
"You too, Harry," Dean said. "That is, if you're willing."
Harry laughed. "If I'm willing to walk around nude in front of my girlfriend's parents, I think I can pose for
one of my good friends." He thought for a second, and the shirt slid through the door to the common room that he
shared with Hermione, and then a royal blue sleeveless sweater top flew out into his waiting hands. "For when you're
ready, love. That shirt shouldn't be scratchy."
"Admit it, you just like seeing me bra-less under these sweaters." He simply shrugged and put on a far-too-
innocent look, and then walked over to Neville.
"Hey, Nev?" he asked, peeling Neville apart from the crowd. "Would you do me the very great honour of
agreeing to be one of my groomsmen when it comes time for the wedding?"
"You're honoured?" Neville squeaked. "I'm the one who's honoured! If you want me there at your wedding,
then I will be there."
"Good. I'm going to get permission from Dumbledore to go to Diagon Alley with you, Ron, and Remus Lupin
either tomorrow or Sunday. We'll get our dress robes there."
---
Monday started a new school week, and both Harry and Hermione were in fine form. The groom and his
groomsmen had indeed gotten their dress robes that weekend, and Madame Malkin had agreed completely with the
decisions that Harry had made concerning trim and such. Harry had overheard Ron and Neville muttering things to
Remus about a 'bachelor party' and just hoped they'd keep it to butterbeer. Remus the former professor he could trust
to keep a lid on things, but Remus the former Marauder might very well aid and abet Ron's wilder side, and Harry had
no idea which Remus would dominate.
His classes went quite well, even without Hermione in his head, which pleased him to no end, since it truly
meant that he had learned the material. He had gotten a chuckle from the class when he showed everyone the
increased power he had at his command due to the link that he shared with Hermione. Conjuring a feather from the
air, he performed the Banishing Charm on it, toward a stone wall that Professor Flitwick conjured. The resulting
damage wasn't great, but no one had ever seen a feather chip stone before.
They were on their way toward the Great Hall for lunch when they were met by Draco and his omnipresent
bodyguards. "Ah, here's the Potty and his little Mudblood. Amazing the depths that some people will stoop to just to
get a little pussy, isn't it, boys?" he sneered.
"I'm sure you'd know all about that," Harry drawled back at him, "since you can't even find a woman that you
don't have to pay. Your date is your hand when your allowance runs out."
"I'd watch my tongue if I were you," Draco started to threaten.
Hermione cut him off before he could finish the threat. "While it's certainly long enough for him to watch it,
Draco, when it's out that far, he's usually doing something else with it," she said dreamily. "It's certainly in no
position that it can be looked at." She sighed to match her tone of voice. "Shall we continue on toward lunch, Harry
darling?" she asked, offering her hand to Harry.
"I'm surprised," Draco said as they walked away. "Given what I've heard, you've needed to expand out to the
rest of Gryffindor Tower to keep satisfied, Granger. I could have told you Potter wasn't man enough."
Harry could feel her seething. Before she could speak, he said with amazement, "Why, Draco, I didn't know
you paid such close attention to my … manhood! I'm sorry to tell you, I just don't Seek for that team. You'll just
have to live with the disappointment." Before Malfoy could stop sputtering, they had breezed out of hearing range of
anything Malfoy might say.
"Thank you, Harry," she muttered. "He finally figured out which buttons of mine to push. I will not let him
insult you."
"Let him, honey. It's unimportant. The Dursleys were far worse with what they said and did than anything he
can come up with."
"But he's … I don't want you insulted!"
"Yet you'll let him insult you to keep me from getting into trouble," he laughed as they entered the hall and sat
at the Gryffindor table. "Make up your mind. He probably has things set up with Snivellus to come running whenever
he tries to start something. Have you ever noticed how often Snape shows up at just the right moment, as far as
Malfoy is concerned?" She nodded. "I'll admit, love, that this bond with you is the reason I can finally do what I
should have been doing all these years – ignoring Malfoy. With you there, I can keep my calm enough. I want you
proud of me. I've let you down so many times."
"Oh Harry," she sighed. "I am proud of you, especially after really learning what your life was like growing
up. You came through that surprisingly sane, and a kinder and gentler person than you by rights should be."
"And somehow earned … no, was granted the love of a woman who deserves far better than me. For
something so magnificent, there is no earning it – it must be given."
"Oh Harry," she said with a throbbing voice, and leaned over to kiss him.
Harry thought of something and pulled out a piece of parchment and his quill. He wrote across the top
'Uninvited', and after underlining the word, wrote 'Draco Malfoy'. "Making a list of people we don't want at the
wedding and reception, because they'll only make trouble." He thought for a moment before adding 'Severus Snape'.
"Not that he'd attend anyway, unless the headmaster forced him to, but to make it official…"
"Who else?" she asked.
"Basically, the idea I'm working with is to disallow the known troublemakers, and possibly anyone we hear
spreading the rumours that Draco is starting. Make a point to them. Right"
She thought for a moment. "Hmm, yes, but make sure that it's overheard by someone we trust. No putting
someone onto the list because someone says that so-and-so told them. Neville, or Ron, or Parvati, or one of the others
have to have actually heard the person saying it." At his raised eyebrow for the inclusion of Parvati, she added, "Look,
we may disagree on a few things, but she knows the gossip mill around here, as does Lavender." He nodded, and they
continued with their lunch.
Monday through Wednesday went as expected, with a handful of people joining Harry and Hermione in their
common room each of the nights. Ron had joined them on Monday, actually being quite good at ignoring Hermione's
state of near nudity, but left the room quickly when Parvati came in and shucked off her robe, leaving her in her
underwear. Parvati looked hurt until Harry pointed out that Ron was actually paying both her and Luna a very strong
compliment. "You see, he's really sweet on Luna, and you looking like that is making him think things that could
cause that relationship problems before it's really started."
Parvati smiled as she realized that Harry was telling the truth. "Someone needs to tell that girl that she's got
one hell of a boyfriend there." She looked at Harry. "Aren't you afraid that Hermione's going to get jealous, given the
way you're looking at me?"
"Why would I?" Hermione said without looking up. "I trust him. I know him. Certainly he thinks you're sexy
– I don't swing that way, as they say, and I think you're sexy." She finally looked up. "Besides, any frustrations you
cause for him will most joyfully be worked out with me later on." She grinned at the dark skinned girl. Parvati
blushed.
"I'm trying to get used to it, you know?" she finally said. "I do at home, sort of. Mom and Dad don't exactly
complain if I walk around the house in only knickers. Padma does it too. But they're the only ones I do it around."
"Only do it if you're comfortable," Harry said, looking up from the book he'd looked down at for a moment. "If
you're more comfortable in your robes, then wear your robes. If you decide that skin is comfortable, then do it." He
saw her uncertain look, and melodramatically waggled his eyebrows at her. She laughed, and calmed down. By
Wednesday she had finally achieved the courage to remove her brassiere for the last half hour of their study time.
---
Thursday was their second Potions class, and Harry had a bad feeling about the day from the moment he woke
up. He couldn't pin down the reason, just that he felt wrong somehow. This feeling translated through the link to
Hermione, which made her edgy as well. "Harry, what is bothering you?"
"I wish I knew, love. It's driving me crazy, trying to figure it out." He shook his head and continued to pick
at his breakfast.
Finally, it was time to head off to Potions, by far the least favourite class he had. The dampening spell was
cast and they headed off, finding themselves surprised to walk into a classroom with the Slytherin contingent already
seated and waiting for the beginning of class. This set Harry on edge even more.
Snape glided into the classroom in his usual manner and stood before the class. He began to teach the class,
but was quickly interrupted by Hermione saying rather loudly, "Draco Malfoy, if you touch me like that again, they'll
be regrowing your teeth and jaw."
"Are we having a problem, Miss Granger?" Snape asked with disgust. "Do you need your fiancé to defend
you?"
"Oh no," she said sweetly. "I was just informing your student that if he attempted to place his hand in my
crotch again that he would be spending some quality time with Madame Pomfrey as she regrows body parts I was
going to remove. Nothing more than that."
Snape eyebrows rose as he replied, "Well, given the proclivities of the Gryffindors this year, his
misunderstanding of the situation, while extremely badly timed, is completely understandable." He glared at Malfoy.
Harry grumbled. "So it's her fault for dressing that way in the privacy of our chambers where only our friends
are allowed? That gives the ferret a right to molest my wife … to be?" he added rapidly.
"School is not the place for such proclivities to be exercised, Mister Potter, and I have warned you before about
your tone. Fifty points from Gryffindor for your extreme insolence. I shall also be talking to the headmaster about
this little … love nest you and Miss Granger are running in your quarters. Undoubtedly, you will be given the special
treatment that you always have received since the day you were born, but the complaint must be lodged." He stalked
forward to stand before Harry. "Open your mouth to respond and you will be receiving a detention." Harry stared
daggers at him, which affected the Potions Master not at all. The man began to teach again, and the classroom slowly
returned to normal.
The class continued as could be expected, with Snape making his usual digs at Gryffindor. Partway through
class, Harry could feel a dull heat forming in his stomach, one that he rather enjoyed. He found it harder to
concentrate, but it wasn't until he heard an erotic moan in his head that he shook himself free. He looked over to
Hermione, who was nominally looking at Professor Snape, but there was the hint of a smile on her face. It was the
smug look on Malfoy's face that made him realize that something was up.
Pointing his wand toward Hermione under the table, he murmured, "Finite Incantatem," and watched as both
Hermione and Malfoy jumped in shock. She turned quickly on Malfoy and reached down before he could move,
yanking the wand from his hand. "Despite your sociopathic little belief, Malfoy, I am not here for your sexual
amusement," she snarled. "Do that again and I'll snap both your wands."
"Are we having a problem, Miss Granger?" Snape sneered. "Having trouble keeping boyfriends in line?"
"He was casting a spell on her for some sick purpose," Harry interjected. "I cast a Finite on her."
"And how would you know?" Snape asked, his voice clearly stating that he thought Harry's magical knowledge
(or lack thereof) should have gotten him kicked out after his first year.
"I felt it through our link," he answered. "It was subtle, which is unusual for Malfoy, but it was there. I
stopped him, I don't feel it anymore."
"So you and Miss Granger have a telepathic link, do you?" Snape scowled, his face starting to colour
unflatteringly. "So not only am I forced to deal with a silly Gryffindor know-it-all who can't keep her legs closed, but
I am forced to take you into my class so that you can cheat your way to a good grade based on her knowledge?" He
pulled his wand and pointed it at Harry. "I will not have it, do you hear me? I will not stand for it! Trennen Sie
Bindung!"
An ugly vermillion beam shot out at Harry and struck him fully in the chest.
Back to index
Chapter 19 by Kinsfire
Chapter 19
Chapter XIX
Both the Grangers walked carefully into the staff break room on their first day of teaching and sat heavily in
side-by-side chairs. "Rough day so far?" Minerva McGonagall asked sympathetically.
"First day teaching, ever," Helen said, "and I feel like such a fraud. I have all these eager faces out there
looking to Doug and me for information, and I am as lost in their world as they would be in mine."
"That, Helen, is something you must get used to. As much as I will never truly understand the Muggle world,
you will never completely understand so many things – things that are ingrained in us so deeply from childhood that
we don't even think about them."
"You know, there probably ought to be a class for those of us who are Muggle born," Doug said. "Wizard
Studies, if you will. Muggle Studies is really for those mages who wish to understand the world you live alongside, so
Wizard Studies should be for those students suddenly thrust into a world they knew nothing about before their eleventh
birthday. Try to cover those things that a wizard really needs to know."
Helen spoke up. "And Muggle Studies ought to be mandatory for all of your Wizard-born students, as Wizard
Studies should be mandatory for Muggle-borns. As it is, the students who need Muggle Studies most are the ones
least likely to take it. Half our class is actually Muggle-borns trying to figure out how Wizards see us. Our own
daughter told us she took it for just that reason."
"I'll mention it to the Headmaster," said McGonagall. "I have to say, however, that since the entire core
teaching staff and all of the Board of Directors are themselves Wizard-born, and most of them purebloods, they're not
likely to see it as a priority."
Helen sighed. "I'm not expecting the entire curriculum to be rearranged immediately. Just suggesting things to
be considered in the future. What we could do right now, though, is get a new textbook. Not only is the current text
one of the most soporific things I've come across since Russian literature…"
"You haven't read the History of Magic texts then, have you?" interrupted McGonagall with a smile.
"…but it's so out of date it isn't funny," said Helen firmly, refusing to be derailed from her chosen train of
thought, although she smiled at Minerva's effort. "There is a full chapter in there on care and maintenance of your
crossbow. Do you have any idea just how long it has been since any of us had to worry about a crossbow? There
does not need to be an entire chapter on the care of crossbows and long and short bows! The only reason I'm going to
use the book at all is as a history text, and that's because I don't want their parents to have wasted their money!"
Doug smiled, as did Minerva. "No, darling, tell us how you really feel," he chuckled, making Helen blush
furiously. She was about to respond when Severus Snape slid into the room. "Minerva," he said conversationally
before sliding his eyes across them and saying nothing.
Helen rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, but Doug spoke before she could. "Professor Snape, I have a
question for you." His only response was a raised eyebrow that seemed to invite further speech, although just barely.
"I understand that you have a problem with my daughter, and also with her fiancé. We've only ever really heard
Hermione's side of the equation, and there are always at least two sides to a situation. What's your side?"
Severus Snape looked long and hard at the man before opening his mouth. "To be honest, Mister Granger, I
have a problem with anyone who aligns themselves so openly with an arrogant attention seeker such as your future
son-in-law. He has been the talk of this castle from the moment that word was released that the Boy Who Lived was
coming to Hogwarts. He has gotten away with things at this school that would have been cause for any other student's
expulsion. To this day I am quite certain that he had a hand in the saving of a convicted murderer in his third year,
although I have never quite solved that process. It involves a certain hippogriff as well, I know that much – one that
was also slated for execution after mauling one of my students."
"Oh, you mean that scratch that Draco Malfoy had and milked for at least a month?" Minerva drawled quietly,
her brogue thick.
"I somehow think that a gouge on the arm classifies as a simple scratch, Minerva," he responded in kind. "You
yourself have pampered him from the beginning. Buying him a Nimbus so that he could be the first first-year allowed
on a Quidditch team in far longer than I am aware of? You purchased that from your own funds, as I recall. His
second year began with him receiving a slap on the wrist for an expulsion offence."
"Isn't that the year that an outside entity was attempting to keep him from the school?" Helen asked sweetly.
"A house elf named Dobby, I believe? Knew that a Death Eater was attempting to get Hogwarts shut down, and was
trying to keep Harry from being killed? While I understand that there was a problem with violating secrecy, he made
a concerted effort to return to school that year. Unusual for a twelve year old, I'd think."
"Back to his admiring public is more likely," Snape grumbled.
"That was the year no one would speak to him because they thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, I believe,"
Minerva added softly.
"Ah, but he didn't know that the school would come to its senses for at least a little while," Snape responded.
"Miss Weasley should be in Azkaban for her part in what happened."
"Please tell me that you did not just suggest sending an eleven year old child to prison," Minerva said, putting
her head in her hands.
"She committed the crime, and yet got off, because the Golden Boy wanted to protect her. His third year was
that foul experience with Sirius Black, and his inexplicable release. Again I say that Potter had a hand in it, although I
have never quite figured how. His fourth year led to his lauding for being the fourth contestant in a three contestant
game – a game in which a student died, and we must trust Potter's word as to the situation involved."
"A 'game' in which he was forced to participate in the first place, and at the end of which he was kidnapped
into a deadly situation from which he only barely escaped."
"About which we have only his word."
"I believe there are methods for verifying these things, are there not? Potions, pensieves, and the like? As far
as we understand it, not even a cursory investigation was made. The Muggle police would have made a far better job
of it than your, what are they, Aurors? It's not the victim's fault that the investigation is totally inadequate."
Snape dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "And then there was last year, in which the boy took things into
his own hands once again…"
"Because the Order, the adults who should have been protecting him, did such a bang-up job that he was
attacked both at his family's home and at school. Oh yes, we know about the Order, and Voldemort," Doug said
quietly after looking around the room, ensuring that it was only the four of them. Severus and Minerva both flinched.
"That is another reason I distrust your daughter. How many people has she endangered by telling about that
specific thing? There are some in the Dark Lord's employ that have at least a passing knowledge of Muggles. How
many people has that silly child told in the Muggle world?"
"Two," Helen said calmly. "Me, and Doug."
"What about her 'girlfriends'?" he sneered.
"She has none," Doug said sadly. "Being as intelligent as she is, that tended to scare off other girls her age. I
understand a similar effect happened here. Certain other things didn't help any."
"My apologies," Snape said with sincerity, to everyone's surprise. "That does not change the fact that Potter is
a known rule-breaker, and the headmaster of this school supports him in his violations. He has drawn others into his
violations, and this nearly led to the death of your daughter, because he could not quash his love of being the hero. It
did lead to the death of his godfather."
"Excuse me?" Helen said. "You had a psychotic headmaster after Dumbledore was removed by the Ministry,
one who was willing to cast Unforgivable curses on a student to get him to talk, and you had an even more psychotic
Dark Lord reading Harry's thoughts, and feeding him false images. He had every reason to believe that his godfather,
Sirius Black, was being tortured to death by Voldemort, and yet he was playing the hero when he made an effort to
save him?"
"He was a fifteen year old boy – what hope would he have had against Death Eaters?" Snape responded.
"Apparently quite good," she responded. "All six of them are still alive, are they not?"
"Because the cavalry arrived," Snape retorted. "Without the Order and the Aurors arriving, I have no doubt
that you would have been mourning the loss of your daughter, and she simply can not see that it is that glory hound's
fault that she was hurt that badly. If she can not separate herself from his entourage, then she shall suffer the penalties
of feeding his overweening ego."
She snorted. "This young man with the 'overweening ego' that you so rant about informed me that he should
be thrown on the curb with the rest of the garbage for what his actions had done to Hermione. Were it not for the fact
that he has forbidden us to explain his upbringing, I'd tell you just why you are so wrong about him. If you can lower
yourself to deal with anything Muggle, then get your hands on the transcripts of the trial 'Crown vs. Vernon Dursley'
and read it carefully. It will tell you everything you need to know about his home life."
Doug stood. "Shall we, love? Our classes are done for the day, and I think that I would like to retire to
somewhere where the stench of hatred is not so strong. Good day, Minerva." With that, both Grangers exited the
break room.
As they left, they could hear Minerva say, "That's a new record for you, Severus. Offending two teachers at
once, and the first day of classes isn't even over."
#####
That was the last civil word between the Grangers and the Potions professor. They continued their first week
dealing with other years – Tuesday had been especially interesting. That was when they had the sixth year students.
Ron had chosen to take Muggle Studies this year, since it would actually be taught by people who had grown up in the
Muggle world, not to mention being the parents of one of his best friends. The students were scattered amongst the
houses, with even a handful of Slytherin taking it this year.
"Should be an easy grade," Pansy was saying to Blaise Zabini, who simply shrugged. "Can't see how it's all
that important, since it's just Muggle things, but they always say 'Know your enemy'." She snorted, an unflattering
sound. "What can they do, anyway? They're just the Mudblood's parents. Gonna give me a stern talking to?"
A voice from the front of the room said, "Accio bookbag!" Pansy's bag zipped toward the front of the room
before the girl could grab it in an attempt to stop it. Doug Granger caught the bag easily and said, "Actually Miss
Parkinson, I was thinking more along the lines of removing points from your House for disrespect to your Professors.
Twenty should suffice for now." Pansy winced.
"Now, we have a few interesting statements from Miss Parkinson that should take up some time in this class.
Excellent work, Miss Parkinson. Were it not for the fact that you were using a particularly offensive term, intended to
be insulting, I might even have given points back in thanks."
"First off – I believe that we've answered the comment of 'what can they do'. Wingardium Leviosa."
He
floated the bookbag back to her. "Now, I think you can realize that it means that we can, in fact, perform spells, and
are not as harmless as we might seem. This is just us in particular, though. We could also take your question to apply
to all Muggles. 'What can they do?' Miss Parkinson, you seem to believe that Wizards are superior to Muggles. May
I ask why?"
"It's obvious. We can do magic. Muggles can't."
"So magic is inherently superior to technology?"
"Yes," Pansy said, as if it was obvious.
"Miss Parkinson, when was the last time a Wizard walked on the moon?"
"The moon? That's imposs…"
"It is not. The Americans have done it multiple times, using technology. Could a Wizard transport a vehicle to
Mars and then receive pictures from it? Do Wizards even know what the surface of Mars looks like?"
"What possible use could something like that be?"
"There is always use in knowledge, Miss Parkinson. And while the goal itself may seem to be nonsensical, the
benefits of the American space program to people the world over have been incalculable. Well … to everybody
except the Wizards, who don't seem to be availing themselves of it much."
Helen took over for a bit. "Let's talk medicine. Can a Wizard use the heart from a dead person and use it to
replace the diseased heart of a living individual? Or a liver, or lungs, or other organs?"
Pansy just gaped at her.
"Fifty years ago, neither could Muggles, but now those feats are routine. Miss Parkinson, where does your
food come from, your clothing?"
"All my clothes are handmade. But food … I don't know where the kitchen gets it from. That's the elves'
business, not mine."
"I checked. Most of the food consumed in this school is produced by local farmers – Muggles, all of them.
Your clothing may be hand sewn, but the fabrics, the threads, all come from the Muggle world. And while handmade
clothing is very posh, it also takes longer to make and is much more expensive. This limits how much of it you can
have. I am willing to predict that if you compared the wardrobes of a pureblood student and a Muggle-born or
Muggle-raised student, you'll find the pureblood may have nicer clothes, but far fewer of them. And machine-made
clothing is at least a consistent quality, not depending on whether your seamstress had a headache the day she set the
sleeves."
Doug Granger picked up the lecture again. "We'll be talking a lot more in the coming months about Muggle
technology and products, and you'll get to try them out and make up your own minds. Right now I want to change the
subject to something else. Something much more important, in the long run, than where you get your shoes. You
made the pureblood comment, Miss Parkinson. This obviously means that there are a specific number of families that
are considered to be pure. Am I correct so far?" She nodded warily. "How many of those families are you related to?
I've learned, for example, that the Weasleys are related to a family called the Blacks, through marriage. As I
understand things, this means that Mister Ronald Weasley and Mister Draco Malfoy are related. How many of your
classmates are you related to, Miss Parkinson? Which one of them will you end up marrying to continue the family
lines?" She looked shocked.
"Genetics is an interesting Muggle science," Helen interjected. The class whipped around to look at her. "It's
used all the time in breeding animals. Most people forget that man is an animal too. Anyone out there in the
classroom have anything to do with animal breeding?" A girl in Ravenclaw robes raised her hand. "Miss Thomson,
isn't it?" At the girls nod, she continued. "What type of animals do you breed?"
"Dogs, ma'am … uh, Professor. We breed Jack Russell Terriers."
"Calling me ma'am is all right. I'm certainly not going to take points for it. Now, what happens if you breed
siblings?"
"Depends. Sometimes you get a stronger dog, but more often you get a trait you'd rather not have. It's one of
the reasons that Dalmatians are almost always deaf, and more than a little psychotic. They're having to breed in other
breeds of dog that are similar, just to increased the breeding population."
"Exactly. You get undesirable things happening when you breed animals with close relatives."
"Unless you cull," put in Miss Thomson.
"True. When breeding close siblings, strict culling is necessary. For those not familiar with the term, 'culling'
means to remove individuals showing weaknesses or undesirable traits from the breeding line. With puppies, this
means unfit ones are not permitted to breed. Humans, however, are permitted to breed no matter what weaknesses
they have. And with an inbred line, those weaknesses multiply and build on each other." She paused. "Is there
anyone not following this so far?"
A Hufflepuff boy raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Cholmondeley?" she asked, pronouncing it Chumley.
"Are you saying that's the explanation for … well, they matched my eldest brother with our cousin Hope.
None of their children have survived more than a year."
"Birth defects and the like?" Helen asked. At his nod, she said, "I am sorry to hear about your brother and his
wife – I am truly sorry for what they must be going through. But that is precisely what I am referring to. Cousin
marriages are even worse than brother sister marriages, as odd as that may seem. But to keep the bloodlines pure,
that's what you need to do. And you heard what Miss Thomson said – they have to breed in other lines to keep the
breed even remotely viable. To put it in terms that you can immediately relate to – if you're a pureblood, it's safe to
say that there aren't too many more generations before you're literally marrying brothers and sisters, if you insist on
keep the blood pure. And if you're lucky, those children will merely be gibbering idiots."
"I am sorry to say, Mr. Cholmondeley, that the best hope for your brother and his wife would be for them to
divorce and find other mates. Ones not related to them at all. And they should go to a Muggle geneticist to undergo
screening to make sure there's not something nasty and unexpected between them and whoever they choose the next
time. Yes, before you ask, this happens in Muggles, too. Any group isolated by cultural factors and forced to breed
with a small number of related individuals will inevitably develop problems."
"It's been estimated that the minimum population of humans necessary to make a stable gene pool is around
150 or so young adults, assuming that they have large families and scrupulously keep consanguinuity – degree of blood
relationship – to a minimum. Now let's apply this to the Wizarding population of Britain – the population of
Hogwarts, specifically. At the moment, there are, what, about ten students in each House per year? That's 280
individuals in a seven-year span, quite a reasonable number of potential mates. However, of those, about half are
either Muggle-born or of mixed parentage. That cuts us down to 140 individuals right there. Miss Parkinson – no, I'll
pick on someone else for a while – Mr. Weasley. Let's talk about family size."
"She picked an expert for that, all right," someone muttered. Ron flushed a dull red and Helen ignored the
comment completely.
"I am familiar with your family, of course. You have seven siblings. Your parents had how many siblings
each?"
"Mm. Dad has two brothers – Mum has a sister and a brother."
"Do any of them have children?"
"Uncle Marcus has two sons. Nothing on the Prewitt side of the family."
"Are they all married?"
"Yes."
"The replacement rate for humans is 2.3 children per couple. This allows to replace each parent and to make up
for those who die without issue. The rate for your family, with five couples, is, let's see … 1.8 children per couple.
Even with the rather large number of children in your immediate family, your family is not replacing itself. Most of its
genetic eggs are all in one basket, as well – your parents' heritage will survive – assuming you and your siblings have
children – the others will be lost."
"Most pureblood families do not have many children, though, do they? Would you guess why not?"
"Well, there's inheritances. You don't want to split a family fortune, if there is one. So mostly they have kids
until they get a son, then stop."
"So most families are fairly small?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"And that also leaves us with a preponderance of males over females, correct?" Helen could see students
counting people in their heads and realizing that there were, in fact, more male pureblooded students than female ones.
It was most obvious in the Slytherin and Ravenclaw groups, which had the largest number of purebloods. "It's
inevitable that some of your males will go unmarried … or be forced to marry outside of the group that is considered
socially acceptable. Additionally, it's females that determine the reproductive rate. In our sample population of 140
individuals, only about 50 are females."
"It's been a long time since I took University biology classes," said Helen, "but I can tell from this rough
analysis that the pureblood population is far too small to sustain itself as things stand. If you were content to have the
population numbers stay as they are, each girl would have to have at least three children. If you want it to grow, four
or more. And if you want it to be healthy, you'd have to rigorously prune your culls, which means you'd have to have
even more children to make up for the ones removed from the bloodlines. If you do not do this … in perhaps five
generations, there will be no purebloods left." There was a long moment of silence. "If you keep fighting among
yourselves, and selecting spouses according to ideological purity," said Helen in a soft but intense voice, "perhaps
three." She was gratified to see Ron and Pansy exchange looks. "The only other option is to bring in potential spouses
from other population pools – I understand there's already a lot of mixing with families all over Europe. That might
be enough to save you, though you'd have to increase family size regardless."
"But what about the mud-the Muggleborns and half-bloods? There are as many of them as us in the school.
Won't they have the same problem?" asked one of the Ravenclaws.
"They do not restrict their gene pool. Remember, each Muggle-born comes from a different, and far more
diverse, population. The likelihood of genetic abnormality is greatly reduced. Every Muggle-born that marries into
that population strengthens it."
Doug interjected. "There's another side to the purity issue." He walked to his podium and looked at the
students. "Grindelwald." They gasped. "I learned a little something about him recently, and I thought that those of
you out there who were raised with a knowledge of the Muggle world would find it interesting. Adolf Hitler. No,
Grindelwald was not Adolf Hitler, but he was known to the Muggle world as Reinhardt Heydrich, the father of The
Final Solution." Several students paled, while the wizard raised children looked puzzled.
"During what we Muggles call World War II, Heydrich began, with the agreement of the Fuehrer, what was
called the Final Solution. Those who disagreed with the Reich for any reason were imprisoned, and often sent to these
camps. Interestingly, most of the groups chosen to be sent to the camps tended to be those with an enduring cultural
tradition of magic or members of occult groups which mostly consisted of Muggles attempting to recreate what they
remembered of magic from before the Wizarding and Muggle worlds were sundered. Jews, Catholics, Gypsies,
Freemasons, Rosicrucians, even homosexuals – all targeted because of supposed mystical connections. Heydrich may
very well have been attempting to selectively exterminate the groups of Muggles from which Muggleborn Wizards
were likely to come, and which were most likely to support those same Muggleborn children. It's sort of like
attempting to eliminate all dogs in the world because you don't like the ones with spots. During the course of the war,
over thirteen million people were killed in these camps. One of the worst crimes was being Jewish. Fully half of that
thirteen million that I mentioned were Jewish. Think about that. That number is greater than the population of
Scotland. More than three times the population of Ireland. The population of a country was destroyed, and for what?
Some notion of purifying the blood. Think about that. Over six million people were murdered in the name of having
pure blood. In order to maintain your genetic health, you need the Muggleborns. Reinhard Heydrich – Grindelwald –
was attempting to destroy wizarding life in Europe – he would have doomed you all to destruction. If those who
espouse those ideals continue to do so, and act upon them, then they will doom European wizardkind to extinction."
He stepped back from the podium and looked out at the silent class. Even Pansy Parkinson had a disturbed look on
her face. They let the class go early in order to allow them to think about what they had just learned, after telling them
that they had a twelve inch parchment due next week – pick a war from the past and explore some of the atrocities
performed, the reasons given for them and how they could have been prevented.
#####
The first week went well for them – word of their disciplinary measure against Pansy had been enough to point
out that these new teachers did, in fact, have teeth. They shared a pleasant dinner with Harry and Hermione on
Saturday, Harry talking with some enjoyment about the robes the gentlemen would be wearing at this wedding. With
Ron's amused blessing, Harry had sprung on Remus the request that Lupin be his best man. "I told him that, at least in
that way my parents could be there in some way," Harry said. "It's safe to say that none of us exactly had dry eyes."
The conversation continued pleasantly, except for a short moment of nausea on Helen's part.
"Sorry," she said, exiting the water closet. "I think it's going to take a while for me to get used to the food you
eat here. It's a tad bit richer than I'm used to eating, and my system simply does not want to accept some of it. Not
exactly going to complain, because it seems to be the more sugary foods that set it off."
"Pity," Harry said. "Some of the desserts here are to die for." He blinked. "I do not believe that I just quoted
Lavender Brown." Hermione chuckled warmly at him. The night ended after curfew, but Doug escorted them back to
their rooms to avoid any detention problems, and Harry made Doug promise to have Helen talk to Madame Pomfrey
about her nausea, in case it was an allergy to something. "I love her, Doug," he said simply, "and I don't want to see
anything happen. Get her checked out, okay?" Doug had grinned and nodded, even going so far as to hug them both
before ushering them into their room.
The next week worked well, although the rumours about a secret orgy nest in Harry and Hermione's rooms
disturbed them. They had a feeling that the nastier of the comments were coming from the girlfriend of one of the
seventh year student, who didn't like her boyfriend noticing other women. There was no proof, however, so nothing
could be done.
It was in their Thursday class, however, as they taught the fourth year students about music recording that their
sense of foreboding took hold. They were nearing the end of class when a student exploded through the door.
"Professors! You need to get to the Hospital Wing! Harry Potter just carried your daughter into the infirmary! She's
unconscious!"