Patron (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Starfox5 · Jun 13, 2015

Pahan said:
More seriously, how about "As usual, the inn had drawn a decent --- and varied --- crowd.", and just get rid of the sentence that follows?

Adapted that.

Pahan said:
The question is, who is this "one" who is less well informed than Aberforth? An average British wizard? An average Hog's Head patron? An average Ministry employee?

The generic average British wizard. Seriously, generic and abstract is OK in this context. It does not need to be specific, nor should it be.

Pahan said:
That implies that the whole WB will be fighting against an external threat, but the threat is internal. I think "at war" instead of "fighting a war" would work better.

OK.

Fredo · Jun 13, 2015

Starfox5 said:
Not incompetent... but not as competent as they could or should be.

What's the difference? They aren't capable of doing their jobs - if they were Dumbledore would use them - so they aren't competent. They are incompetent...

Starfox5 · Jun 13, 2015

Fredo said:
What's the difference? They aren't capable of doing their jobs - if they were Dumbledore would use them - so they aren't competent. They are incompetent...

"Good enough for government work" is not perfect, or that good - but often it is good enough, so they are not incompetent.

Valor · Jun 13, 2015

I've read through the whole thing and like it well enough... Except from Draco and Pansy. She's some supposedly wannabe evil manipulator whom gets a kick out of playing Draco into doing stupid shit that embarasses him and everyone he mingles with. Then she willingly acts as his dense girlfriend and more or less joins on being ridiculed by his side. What? Why? She was planning on dropping him... I... I have no words, honestly. It's so contrived it's kind of silly.

And then there's Draco... Who's somesort of dysfunctional caricature of a human being, portrayed as incredibly stupid beyond any kind of rationality. It's absolutely crazy. People... This isn't how people act, lol. If Draco has his head dropped as a kid, repeatedly, then maybe? It's like you need an example on how bad racism is, so you create this retarded lovechild of a rock and a sneering, 80-year old senile nazi... And somehow cobble them together.

Other than that this story is quite swell and I'm avidly following the chapter releases, but the bits involving those two just detracts from it all. A lot.

Starfox5 · Jun 13, 2015

Valor said:
I've read through the whole thing and like it well enough... Except from Draco and Pansy. She's some supposedly wannabe evil manipulator whom gets a kick out of playing Draco into doing stupid shit that embarasses him and everyone he mingles with. Then she willingly acts as his dense girlfriend and more or less joins on being ridiculed by his side. What? Why? She was planning on dropping him... I... I have no words, honestly. It's so contrived it's kind of silly.

And then there's Draco... Who's somesort of dysfunctional caricature of a human being, portrayed as incredibly stupid beyond any kind of rationality. It's absolutely crazy. People... This isn't how people act, lol. If Draco has his head dropped as a kid, repeatedly, then maybe? It's like you need an example on how bad racism is, so you create this retarded lovechild of a rock and a sneering, 80-year old senile nazi... And somehow cobble them together.

Other than that this story is quite swell and I'm avidly following the chapter releases, but the bits involving those two just detracts from it all. A lot.

In canon, Draco's the kind of idiot who, despite sharing classes with Hermione, brightest witch of her age, still really, honestly thinks that purebloods are superior. It takes a special kind of stupidity to ignore reality to that degree for so damn long. The kind of stupidity that makes up excuses that strain one's belief, just so he does not have to face the fact that his core beliefs are plain wrong. He is also the kind of racist who gloats when he thinks all muggleborns students will die - at the age of 12. That either makes him a psychopath, incredibly stupid, or both, but it shows he's been indoctrinated in pureblood bigotry very, very thoroughly. He also got away with utterly stupid stunts in canon - like his claim that his arm was still hurt, even after Pomfrey fixed it, or his "Potter stinks" badges, so I'd not call him dysfunctional - he functions well thanks to Snape and his father, and society in general. In canon, he only started to develop some brains in the books 6 and 7 - which I tend to ignore for characterization, due to how stupid everyone was acting in them.

For this story I simply kept him like he was in the first three books - stupid to the point of irrationality, immature, whiny, and bigoted beyond belief. Kind of fitting, since the story started in year 4. He is also a bit like Joffrey from "Games of Thrones", incredibly spoiled and a sadist. And, as his duel with the 6th year proves, money can compensate for more in this story than in canon. His robes are loaded with the best spells gold can buy, and that means he can stand his ground against a lot of students who are not already intimidated by his father's influence.

As for Pansy, her character's been influenced (as in, "don't do it like that") by the fanfiction stories where Slytherin is a hotbed of plots and politics, and everyone, from age 11 up, is acting like a politician with decades of experience, plotting and jockeying for power. Only in this story, Pansy was a normal 11 year old, not some weird super-plotter, and not even a precocious child like Hermione (who pulled a pretty stupid-but-lucky stunt herself when she got Harry to become her Patron - it could have ended very, very badly). Pansy thought for years - still being a kid, average intellect at best, and not some experienced adult - that's she's very Slytherin, making everyone underestimate herself while she pulls Draco's strings and uses him to take the blame for her "pranks". Now, when she's smarting up (aka, growing up), she is starting to realize that ditching Draco may not be as easy as she thought. Contrived? Maybe. But I think it's a bit more contrived to have average-to-dumb kids act like adults. Harry and Hermione had to grow up real fast, and even so, the way they act in year 4 might be pushing it a bit.

With regards to getting ridiculed, Pansy's been portrayed mainly from her and Draco's POV as well as that of Harry/Hermione/Ron. None of them is even close to being unbiased. But one also has to consider that in the opinion of many Slytherins and other purebloods, Pansy's acting with quite a lot of forethought by attaching herself to a rich pureblood heir early on while her yearmates are still fooling around and looking forward to year 6.

turbinicarpus · Jun 13, 2015

I have higher tolerance for Draco bashing than I ought to, but Valor does have a point, I think. I can't believe I'm defending Draco's character, but I think that you did make certain choices in this fic that are not great.

Starfox5 said:
In canon, Draco's the kind of idiot who, despite sharing classes with Hermione, brightest witch of her age, still really, honestly thinks that purebloods are superior. It takes a special kind of stupidity to ignore reality to that degree for so damn long. The kind of stupidity that makes up excuses that strain one's belief, just so he does not have to face the fact that his core beliefs are plain wrong.

You know she's bright, I know she's bright, but all Draco knows is that she spends more time in the library than any reasonable person ought to, and gets better grades than him. BFD: he doesn't need to work his butt off to compensate for inferior blood and he doesn't need to show off before teachers and get perfect marks to compensate for lack of wealth and connections in the wizarding world. I'm not saying that that makes Draco a less bad person; just that he doesn't really have to face anything particularly strong.

Add to that that the cost of any sort of conversion to him is huge: it's easy to be anti-bigot in Gryffindor; harder so in Slytherin, with a Death Eater father. With that in mind, yes, he's going to invent every possible excuse to avoid changing his mind, as would almost anyone else.

Starfox5 said:
He is also the kind of racist who gloats when he thinks all muggleborns students will die - at the age of 12. That either makes him a psychopath, incredibly stupid, or both, but it shows he's been indoctrinated in pureblood bigotry very, very thoroughly.

Or 12. You know, the age at which Hermione pronounced her infamous "Killed --- or worse, expelled" line, that forever tarred her with the Authority Worshiper brush.

Starfox5 said:
For this story I simply kept him like he was in the first three books - stupid to the point of irrationality, immature, whiny, and bigoted beyond belief. Kind of fitting, since the story started in year 4. He is also a bit like Joffrey from "Games of Thrones", incredibly spoiled and a sadist.

That's the crux of it... Everybody else --- including Ron and Voldemort --- got an upgrade. Draco? He got a negative trait (sadism) that he didn't even have in canon, where, on the contrary, he had a weak stomach.

Starfox5 said:
He also got away with utterly stupid stunts in canon - like his claim that his arm was still hurt, even after Pomfrey fixed it, or his "Potter stinks" badges, so I'd not call him dysfunctional - he functions well thanks to Snape and his father, and society in general. In canon, he only started to develop some brains in the books 6 and 7 - which I tend to ignore for characterization, due to how stupid everyone was acting in them.

Yes, but not Draco. Again, you ignore the books that gave everybody but Draco a "downgrade" but gave Draco an "upgrade".

Starfox5 · Jun 13, 2015

Pahan said:
I have higher tolerance for Draco bashing than I ought to, but Valor does have a point, I think. I can't believe I'm defending Draco's character, but I think that you did make certain choices in this fic that are not great.

You know she's bright, I know she's bright, but all Draco knows is that she spends more time in the library than any reasonable person ought to, and gets better grades than him. BFD: he doesn't need to work his butt off to compensate for inferior blood and he doesn't need to show off before teachers and get perfect marks to compensate for lack of wealth and connections in the wizarding world. I'm not saying that that makes Draco a less bad person; just that he doesn't really have to face anything particularly strong.

Add to that that the cost of any sort of conversion to him is huge: it's easy to be anti-bigot in Gryffindor; harder so in Slytherin, with a Death Eater father. With that in mind, yes, he's going to invent every possible excuse to avoid changing his mind, as would almost anyone else.

Or 12. You know, the age at which Hermione pronounced her infamous "Killed --- or worse, expelled" line, that forever tarred her with the Authority Worshiper brush.

That's the crux of it... Everybody else --- including Ron and Voldemort --- got an upgrade. Draco? He got a negative trait (sadism) that he didn't even have in canon, where, on the contrary, he had a weak stomach.

Yes, but not Draco. Again, you ignore the books that gave everybody but Draco a "downgrade" but gave Draco an "upgrade".

Good points, but I remain unconvinced.

First, as I stated, I tend to ignore the last three books as far as characterization is concerned. So, just because JKR felt she should turn Draco from the idiot he was into a whitewashed bigot doesn't mean I have to follow it, just as I do not follow the downgrades she dealt out.

Second, I disagree with the assumption that Draco would face a lot of opposition if he decided not to be a bigot anymore. He doesn't need to be an anti-bigot to stop being the first, and most eager bigot in Slytherin.

And yes, he was 12 when he sprouted his death threats. And he didn't grew out of them in the years to follow. I don't see him outgrowing them here, since before the story started, before year 4, Draco already went farther than he ever went in canon - if you believe that he never did anything off-screen there. (If it's hard to be an anti-bigot in Slytherin, it's harder to not join the usual killings and torture in the Death Eaters.)

Though as I said, Draco's functioning pretty decently. He does pass his exams, he can stand his ground in his house, he has some influence, and he has managed not to let his sadism and blood thirst show at Hogwarts. You know and I know he's an idiot, but most of the students probably just see a boasting student who picks fights with the best and brightest students at the school, and generally, but not all the time, loses the confrontation. They probably expect him to grow out of his stupidity any year now.

What would the story gain from Draco being more competent? As it is he serves as both an example how unfair this society is, since a sadistic idiot can prosper due to money and his father's influence and protection, and as a possible way to redeem Pansy, and make her see how wrong his ideology is, and where it is leading.

Though as pointed out above, he can hide his delusions rather decently - sadly, in part, because they are an accepted dogma among too many. So,why is he considered dysfunctional?

Edit: As far as bashing is a bad thing: If I had removed Draco and Goyle but had kept Crabbe and given him an upgrade - made him rich, a bit less stupid, more vocal, a bit more handsome - would it still be considered bashing? The character would be more or less as intelligent as Draco, but it would be quite the step up from canon Crabbe.

turbinicarpus · Jun 14, 2015

Starfox5 said:
Good points, but I remain unconvinced.

It's your fic, and it's probably too late to change the tone of it too much, anyway, without it being jarring.

Starfox5 said:
First, as I stated, I tend to ignore the last three books as far as characterization is concerned. So, just because JKR felt she should turn Draco from the idiot he was into a whitewashed bigot doesn't mean I have to follow it, just as I do not follow the downgrades she dealt out.

Actually, she forced Draco to confront at least some consequences of his actions, which seems to me like a very good thing. Having him confront more would have been better, but I'll take what I can get. Anyway it's still a choice you made, one which just happens to benefit the characters you like and degrade the characters you don't like.

Starfox5 said:
Second, I disagree with the assumption that Draco would face a lot of opposition if he decided not to be a bigot anymore. He doesn't need to be an anti-bigot to stop being the first, and most eager bigot in Slytherin.

It's a minor point, especially since characters are getting tweaked anyway. This is an Everyone's More Badass AU like Reign of the Serpent, HPMOR, and Darklooshkin's writing. Harry is motivated, dignified, and politically savvy; Hermione cranks out spells like she's written by White Squirrel; Ron is a reliably loyal friend, with a reputation and competence of his own. Draco... gets a slightly nicer robe and some extra personality flaws, all in a setting that is a lot more competitive and cutthroat than in canon.

Starfox5 said:
And yes, he was 12 when he sprouted his death threats. And he didn't grew out of them in the years to follow. I don't see him outgrowing them here, since before the story started, before year 4, Draco already went farther than he ever went in canon - if you believe that he never did anything off-screen there. (If it's hard to be an anti-bigot in Slytherin, it's harder to not join the usual killings and torture in the Death Eaters.)

It's not about Draco being a better person; it's about Draco being a less pathetic antagonist.

Starfox5 said:
Though as I said, Draco's functioning pretty decently. He does pass his exams, he can stand his ground in his house, he has some influence, and he has managed not to let his sadism and blood thirst show at Hogwarts.

That's fair, I guess. (None of the other Slytherins got an upgrade, I take it?)

Starfox5 said:
You know and I know he's an idiot, but most of the students probably just see a boasting student who picks fights with the best and brightest students at the school, and generally, but not all the time, loses the confrontation. They probably expect him to grow out of his stupidity any year now.

Unfortunately, we are the ones reading this, not these other students. Also, as you say, they view him as stupid, so he isn't getting away with it.

Starfox5 said:
What would the story gain from Draco being more competent? As it is he serves as both an example how unfair this society is, since a sadistic idiot can prosper due to money and his father's influence and protection, and as a possible way to redeem Pansy, and make her see how wrong his ideology is, and where it is leading.

This is less about gaining something good and more about losing something bad. Pansy could be redeemed in a less ham-fisted way.

Starfox5 said:
Though as pointed out above, he can hide his delusions rather decently - sadly, in part, because they are an accepted dogma among too many. So,why is he considered dysfunctional?

Not dysfunctional... Just pathetic, an AU where nobody else is.

Starfox5 said:
Edit: As far as bashing is a bad thing: If I had removed Draco and Goyle but had kept Crabbe and given him an upgrade - made him rich, a bit less stupid, more vocal, a bit more handsome - would it still be considered bashing? The character would be more or less as intelligent as Draco, but it would be quite the step up from canon Crabbe.

That's not what you did, though. Fanfic characters are not interchangeable like that.

macdjord · Jun 14, 2015

Starfox5 said:
And yes, he was 12 when he sprouted his death threats.

Yes. He was 12. A child who had never seen death or known violence. He knew that 'Mudbloods were bad' and therefore something that got rid of the was good. He knew, in the abstract, that this involved killing them, but he did not and could not really comprehend what that meant. When he later had to face violence, pain, and death face to face, he balked.

Valor · Jun 14, 2015

You made everyone but Draco into competent characters with several notches of intellect added to their brainmeat. Draco? You crippled the character with additional stupidity. I just can't fathom why. Since you pulled away from the Children's Fairytale-esque story that's the Original Harry Potter and made it into a more realistic and nitty-gritty setting...

The sequences with him is kind of sad and jarring because it's more or less a parody about retarded Disney antagonists trying to be something more than a laughingstock... But failing, only to exchange competence into 'generic badness' just because.

It's just so strange to read when compared to everything else in this fic is pretty awesome.

The Unicorn · Jun 14, 2015

Starfox5 said:
In canon, Draco's the kind of idiot who, despite sharing classes with Hermione, brightest witch of her age, still really, honestly thinks that purebloods are superior. It takes a special kind of stupidity to ignore reality to that degree for so damn long.

No, it doesn't take any kind of stupidity, unless you count bigotry as stupidity. There are any number of perfectly logical explanations for Hermionie even starting from the "purebloods are superior" assumption:
1)Hermionie isn't a muggleborn, either she's lying or some pureblood had his fun with a muggle and failed to kill her afterwards, or similar scenerio.
2)all the other teachers except for Snape are obviously prejudiced against Slytherins so the grades don't actually reflect things.
3)Purebloods in general are superior to muggleborns in general, however a particularly exceptional muggleborn might manage, with help to equal pureblood achievments in some limited fashion.
4)Most of Hermionie's achievements would not be public. The fact that she gets good grades would be, but so would the fact she obsesses about them and studies constantly so assuming she's not really that brilliant just very studious would be perfectly logical even without prejudice coloring Draco's conclusions.

Starfox5 said:
He is also the kind of racist who gloats when he thinks all muggleborns students will die - at the age of 12.

That's the sort of thing pampered 12 y/o kids do. They don't really understand death beyond "something bad that happens to people" and will be perfectly happy to gloat about it to other people, unless like Luna they actually know what Death is.

Starfox5 said:
That either makes him a psychopath,

All 12 y/o are psycopaths, or rather show perfectly normal psycopathic personality traits. This is what makes identifying people with the problem before age 16 so difficult.

Starfox5 said:
And, as his duel with the 6th year proves, money can compensate for more in this story than in canon. His robes are loaded with the best spells gold can buy, and that means he can stand his ground against a lot of students who are not already intimidated by his father's influence.

Which would certainly help explain him surviving this long among actually competent slytherins.

Starfox5 · Jun 14, 2015

Pahan said:
Actually, she forced Draco to confront at least some consequences of his actions, which seems to me like a very good thing. Having him confront more would have been better, but I'll take what I can get. Anyway it's still a choice you made, one which just happens to benefit the characters you like and degrade the characters you don't like.

Emphasis on "some consequences". He literally got away with multiple attempted murders. I don't like Voldemort. I don't like Pansy. I don't like Death Eaters at all.

Pahan said:
It's a minor point, especially since characters are getting tweaked anyway. This is an Everyone's More Badass AU like Reign of the Serpent, HPMOR, and Darklooshkin's writing. Harry is motivated, dignified, and politically savvy; Hermione cranks out spells like she's written by White Squirrel; Ron is a reliably loyal friend, with a reputation and competence of his own. Draco... gets a slightly nicer robe and some extra personality flaws, all in a setting that is a lot more competitive and cutthroat than in canon.

It's not an "everyone is a badass" universe. It's a "everyone lives up to their canon reputation" universe. Harry is the boy-who-lived, who defeated the Dark Lord as a baby. Hermione is the brightest witch of her age. Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of Britain. Voldemort is the Dark Lord so bad and powerful, Britain is afraid to say his name. Ron's the best friend who was ready to die for his friends at age 12. Draco... is the spoiled idiot who largely coasted along on the money and influence of his father. Bought his way on the Quidditch team, and then lost them the games against Harry regularly. While canon Harry, Hermione and Ron dealt with Voldemort, his ghost, his horcrux and basilisk, Dementors, werewolves, rats and a deadly Tournament, canon Draco's greatest success was getting a hippogryff sentenced to death by playing the walking wounded in a sham everyone should have seen through - and sad hippogryff then escaped anyway.

Yes, canon Draco was a pathetic character in the first books.

Pahan said:
It's not about Draco being a better person; it's about Draco being a less pathetic antagonist.

That's the problem - Draco's not supposed to be an antagonist. He's a school kid (although one with very dark pastimes), while Harry and Hermione as well as Ron are and have been dealing with far more serious matters. In order to make Draco matter I'd have to upgrade him to "as dangerous as an adult Death Eater", and that would be a change which would not only be going a bit too far, but would also detract from "Dumbledore is competent".

Quite simply, this Dumbledore is competent to the point that the only chance for Draco to remain at Hogwarts and be a supporter of Voldemort's ideals is to a) play it safe and not do anything serious, aka remain a nuissance or a non-entity, b) be an idiot with some self control and remain underestimated or c) be such a badass that he can fool even a competent Dumbledore while attacking Harry - in short, turn him into Barty Crouch 2.0.

But a Draco that is not as good as Barty Crouch, but still an actual threat to Harry/Hermione, and bought into the ideals of Death Eaters? A Draco smart enough and skilled enough to stand up to Harry and Hermione? Maybe even cunning enough to form his own group of skilled Death Eater recruits at Hogwarts, in a reverse of Dumbledore's Army? He'd not remain at Hogwarts for long. Dumbledore cannot do that much about kids getting influenced by their parents. He might not be able to prevent the war from affecting Hogwarts, but he'll do his best to keep the children safe. Which means that Draco is either ^not doing anything truly dangerous to anyone, is seen as incompetent enough not to pose a real threat to the children under Dumbledore's care, is good enough to fool Dumbledore, or ends up "dealt with".

Pahan said:
That's fair, I guess. (None of the other Slytherins got an upgrade, I take it?)

Pansy got an upgrade, sort of - we don't know how good she was in canon, so it's more a "got a personality". Like the other Slytherins she didn't really get fleshed out enough to have a personality, much less a skill level in canon to judge that. But as I explained above - they cannot go above "nuissance" or "meddling in the romance part" without tripping alerts they really do not want to be tripping, so any smart Slytherin will not do anything too bad at Hogwarts. You have to be a special kind of stupid or really desperate, or expertly manipulated in this story to work for Voldemort under the eyes of Dumbledore.

Pahan said:
Not dysfunctional... Just pathetic, an AU where nobody else is.

Having a pathetic character is not a bad thing per se, in my opinion. We had Crabbe and Goyle in canon too. Not everyone needs to be on the level. And as I pointed out - canon Draco in the fist few books was pathetic already. Here he can at least defeat older students in combat thanks to his gold.

Pahan said:
That's not what you did, though. Fanfic characters are not interchangeable like that.

I beg to differ there. In an Alternate Universe, one should not have to upgrade all characters equally. Especially not if their intended roles are supposed to be different from canon. And that goes double if the were pathetic to start with, compared to the heros.

macdjord said:
Yes. He was 12. A child who had never seen death or known violence. He knew that 'Mudbloods were bad' and therefore something that got rid of the was good. He knew, in the abstract, that this involved killing them, but he did not and could not really comprehend what that meant. When he later had to face violence, pain, and death face to face, he balked.

That happened in a book where characterization of all characters was shot to hell. I tend to ignore that. So, telling me "in that shitty book that ruined the story, Draco actually showed he was not an idiot without a conscience" is just a bit above "in that fanfiction story I read, Draco is actually a decent person". But to make a point: Draco didn't change, not even after people got petrified. He later made jokes about dementors just to hurt Harry. He started as a kid, but he seemed quite determined not to grow out of his psychopathic phase in the first 4 books.

Valor said:
You made everyone but Draco into competent characters with several notches of intellect added to their brainmeat. Draco? You crippled the character with additional stupidity. I just can't fathom why. Since you pulled away from the Children's Fairytale-esque story that's the Original Harry Potter and made it into a more realistic and nitty-gritty setting...

The sequences with him is kind of sad and jarring because it's more or less a parody about retarded Disney antagonists trying to be something more than a laughingstock... But failing, only to exchange competence into 'generic badness' just because.

It's just so strange to read when compared to everything else in this fic is pretty awesome.

Well, as I tried to explain above, Draco's not meant to be an antagonist. He is not meant to be Harry's rival or nemesis, or an actual threat. The only way he can be a threat is because everyone underestimates him. If Draco had gotten an upgrade to be the near-equal to Harry, without the morality upgrade to go wit it or the wisdom not to try anything at Hogwarts, he'd not be at Hogwarts anymore. Also, he is not crippled - he functions just as in canon, sort of, and he actually is a better duelist/fighter thanks to the changes to robes.

A lot of the changes in this story come down to Dumbledore being competent and not stupid. Lockhart in this story is competent because Dumbledore is competent and cares enough not to hire an inept teacher. Quirrell was overpowered and forcibly possessed during the Yuletide break in first year, since Dumbledore is competent enough not to get fooled by a turban in his own school for months, nor would he let Voldemort stay near kids. The Dursleys are not-evil, and afraid of Harry despite trying to love him because Dumbledore is competent and wouldn't send Harry to evil abusive relatives.

I guess I could have a "needling nuissance" Draco, but it wouldn't really add that much in my opinion. He'd still not be Harry's or Hermione's equal without triggering all the "Future Tom" flags of Dumbledore. Who then would do all that's needed to avoid another Tom coming to power under his watch.

Ultimately, if you're a kid trying to antagonize the Dark Lord's Equal, it doesn't really matter if you're smarter than the average student or not, you tend to end up looking pathetic if you're not Dark Lord material yourself. And I really do not want to turn Draco into Voldemort.

The Unicorn said:
No, it doesn't take any kind of stupidity, unless you count bigotry as stupidity. There are any number of perfectly logical explanations for Hermionie even starting from the "purebloods are superior" assumption:
1)Hermionie isn't a muggleborn, either she's lying or some pureblood had his fun with a muggle and failed to kill her afterwards, or similar scenerio.
2)all the other teachers except for Snape are obviously prejudiced against Slytherins so the grades don't actually reflect things.
3)Purebloods in general are superior to muggleborns in general, however a particularly exceptional muggleborn might manage, with help to equal pureblood achievments in some limited fashion.
4)Most of Hermionie's achievements would not be public. The fact that she gets good grades would be, but so would the fact she obsesses about them and studies constantly so assuming she's not really that brilliant just very studious would be perfectly logical even without prejudice coloring Draco's conclusions.

1) Why would she be lying? And if she is a half-blood, she should still be far inferior according to blood purity dogma.
2) That's how Draco thinks, actually. It's what we call a delusional world view, where everyone but the delusional (and maybe a few friends) is at fault.
3) Ignores that Hermione is not "equaling pureblood achievements with help, and in some limited fashion". She's totalling them. She is the brightest witch in her age, and her grades show that.
4) Is again, stupid since all Ravenclaws do the same, yet do not equal her.

The Unicorn said:
That's the sort of thing pampered 12 y/o kids do. They don't really understand death beyond "something bad that happens to people" and will be perfectly happy to gloat about it to other people, unless like Luna they actually know what Death is.

All 12 y/o are psycopaths, or rather show perfectly normal psycopathic personality traits. This is what makes identifying people with the problem before age 16 so difficult.

And Draco never grew out of it during the first 4 books.

The Unicorn said:
Which would certainly help explain him surviving this long among actually competent slytherins.

It's a school, not the Wizengamot. Slytherin is not a pit of politicians and plotters who play mindgames on the level of Machiavelli. They are not all tutored to be master manipulators at age 11. They are kids. The older and more competent kids don't mess with Draco because it serves no point and only risks the ire of his father, or Draco himself once he has the gold. The younger kids Draco can handle. It's not as if everyone has gotten an upgrade. As I explained above, I tried to make people live up to their reputations. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Voldemort. Draco got a reputation, at least in the first 4 books, as a spoiled, stupid rich kid. And he is living up to that reputation.

Will he stay at that level? He might grow up into a spoiled psychopath, like other Death Eaters. He might lose some of his stupidity - Pansy's "betrayal" might shake him up enough, depending how it goes. Or he might end up dead in some fight he should have stayed out of, or never started.

But he'll not be Harry's foil, nor his nemesis, nor his chosen adversary. That's Voldemort, ultimately.

Draco won't be Voldemort's man at Hogwarts, doing his work under the nose of Dumbledore. Not unless both Voldemort and Dumbledore would let him do that, for reasons of their own. Which would have to be very, very compelling ones, given that this Dumbledore cares about kids and won't let them get endangered if he can help it. On the other hand, Voldemort might decide that sacrificing Draco is a good way to hurt Dumbledore.

Edit: I am curious, ignoring books 5-7, where does Draco show that he is not pathetic? Where are his moments of greatness?

turbinicarpus · Jun 14, 2015

Starfox5 said:
Quirrell was overpowered and forcibly possessed during the Yuletide break in first year, since Dumbledore is competent enough not to get fooled by a turban in his own school for months, nor would he let Voldemort stay near kids.

Hold on... When and how did the Troll Incident happen, then? Wouldn't this have Butterflied it away?

Starfox5 said:
It's a "everyone lives up to their canon reputation" universe.

Canon reputation according to whom? According to prominent members of the wizarding community, Draco is a talented and disciplined young man of good breeding, while Harry Potter is a borderline delusional attention-seeker whose antics disrupt domestic tranquility and endanger himself and others, and Dumbledore is going senile in his old age.

Starfox5 said:
That's the problem - Draco's not supposed to be an antagonist.

In that case, I think that his appearances are, for lack of a better word, gratuitous. Unless his antics are going to have far-reaching consequences for the story, it's like he's there solely to be, for lack of a better word, bashed.

Starfox5 · Jun 14, 2015

Pahan said:
Hold on... When and how did the Troll Incident happen, then? Wouldn't this have Butterflied it away?

That was not Quirrellmort, but a stunt by Voldemort, in preparation for his trap for Quirrell over the Yuletide break - Quirrell was, after all, an expert for trolls. It might come up in a flashback, or in the thoughts of Voldemort when he contemplates Lockhart, the monster expert, and compares him to Quirrell.

Pahan said:
Canon reputation according to whom? According to prominent members of the wizarding community, Draco is a talented and disciplined young man of good breeding, while Harry Potter is a borderline delusional attention-seeker whose antics disrupt domestic tranquility and endanger himself and others, and Dumbledore is going senile in his old age.

Canon reputation according to (at least) a significant part of the readers of the first 4 books.

Pahan said:
In that case, I think that his appearances are, for lack of a better word, gratuitous. Unless his antics are going to have far-reaching consequences for the story, it's like he's there solely to be, for lack of a better word, bashed.

Draco's appearances show how kids of Death Eaters are getting indoctrinated and initiated. If he lives long enough, his scenes might provide insight into the organisation of the Death Eaters as well, and the changes they go through under Voldemort's command. His POV also serves (or is meant to at least) to illustrate that all scenes are described from a subjective POV, and are not the author speaking.

Also, I think people forget that Draco's a ticking time bomb. He craves "real combat". He might not be a threat to Harry and Hermione or Ron, but should a student ever push him into losing control, the consequences are likely to be fatal. And that would have consequences that impact Dumbledore, Snape, Lucius and Voldemort as well.

Draco is pathetic compared to the trio, but he did have a decent showing in the duelist competition, where he had no robes to help him. Something you also seem to forget - he was involved in the attack on the World Cup. He's not entirely wrong when he thinks of himself as "bloodied". He is an idiot, he does overestimate his prowess, and he relies on his bought protection too much, but just about everyone underestimates him. Draco does know a number of nasty spells, and that repertoire is growing, not shrinking.

So, while nothing is set in stone, Draco could end up being the one who brings the reality of war - death, misery, harm - to Hogwarts. Few students are as exceptional as the trio, after all.

The Unicorn · Jun 14, 2015

Starfox5 said:
1) Why would she be lying? And if she is a half-blood, she should still be far inferior according to blood purity dogma.
2) That's how Draco thinks, actually. It's what we call a delusional world view, where everyone but the delusional (and maybe a few friends) is at fault.
3) Ignores that Hermione is not "equaling pureblood achievements with help, and in some limited fashion". She's totalling them. She is the brightest witch in her age, and her grades show that.
4) Is again, stupid since all Ravenclaws do the same, yet do not equal her.

You're mistaking what we know with what Draco knows. Also you're wrong about 4. If All Ravenclaws studied as much as Hermionie there'd be only three Quiditch teams because they never would have found time to practice and Luna would not have had people taking the time to steal and hide her stuff (ruin it maybe, that doesn't take long - but a continuous campaign like that would take too much time from studying).
Granted most Ravenclaws probably spend as much time studying schoolwork as Hermionie does, they just don't then go on to study NEWT level potions in their second year or work as a volunteer para-legal, etc... but since Draco doesn't know what she's studying the most he'd know is that she's studying more than nearly all the Ravenclaws (if not all) and that she's not in any extra-curricular clubs (which he'd interpret as failing at everything other than school work).

To clarify, I didn't mind your presentation of him in the story up to now - if Pansy's view of him turns out to be accurate I'd object but I've been assuming her view of him is as accurate as his View of Harry and Hermionie.

Starfox5 said:
It's a school, not the Wizengamot.

Yes, and? School kids in general can be vicious bullies, ones selected for ambition and "cunning" would be worse. The plots would be amateurish and childish, but that just means they're more likely to inflict more harm than intended and/or not cover their tracks as well as they thought and/or not consider long term consequences (like what Draco's father will do to them).

Starfox5 · Jun 14, 2015

The Unicorn said:
You're mistaking what we know with what Draco knows. Also you're wrong about 4. If All Ravenclaws studied as much as Hermionie there'd be only three Quiditch teams because they never would have found time to practice and Luna would not have had people taking the time to steal and hide her stuff (ruin it maybe, that doesn't take long - but a continuous campaign like that would take too much time from studying).
Granted most Ravenclaws probably spend as much time studying schoolwork as Hermionie does, they just don't then go on to study NEWT level potions in their second year or work as a volunteer para-legal, etc... but since Draco doesn't know what she's studying the most he'd know is that she's studying more than nearly all the Ravenclaws (if not all) and that she's not in any extra-curricular clubs (which he'd interpret as failing at everything other than school work).

There are not exactly a big number of extracurricular clubs in canon Hermione could be a member of. It's not as if JKR cared to show us what non-Quidditch team members do in their spare time. And I still maintain that Draco needs to be dumb to cling to his ideology. Hard work is not a perfect substitute for talent - or Hufflepuff would rule the school since they work hard, and have the same amount of talent, on average as the rest.

The Unicorn said:
To clarify, I didn't mind your presentation of him in the story up to now - if Pansy's view of him turns out to be accurate I'd object but I've been assuming her view of him is as accurate as his View of Harry and Hermionie.

Pansy, as everyone else, does underestimate him. Then again, Draco does underestimate her. But while he is somewhat easy to manipulate for Pansy, she has only the hint of an idea what he has been hiding from her, and so far she has often been manipulating him into doing what he wanted to do in the first place. She hasn't exactly tried to make him support Gryffindor, give up Quidditch for a better seeker, or help out those of lesser blood.

The Unicorn said:
Yes, and? School kids in general can be vicious bullies, ones selected for ambition and "cunning" would be worse. The plots would be amateurish and childish, but that just means they're more likely to inflict more harm than intended and/or not cover their tracks as well as they thought and/or not consider long term consequences (like what Draco's father will do to them).

I agree. Their plots would be stupid, childish, etc. They are not master politicians - unlike the popular depiction of House Slytherin's first years as a bunch of smart, plotting and power-jockeying mini-machiavellians, far smarter and more cunning than those dumb brutes from the other houses that we find in "Slytherin!Harry" stories.

macdjord · Jun 15, 2015

Starfox5 said:
But to make a point: Draco didn't change, not even after people got petrified.

Petrified. Not killed. No bodies, no funerals, no grieving families or friends. He never even sees the petrified people, except for the cat. All he sees is that people he doesn't like aren't around any more, and other people he doesn't like look scared. The fact that this fails to chance his mind doesn't indicate he's a psychopath, just that he's a nasty kid.
Frankly, if there had been instead a monster hunting Slytherins, I suspect Ron would have been only slightly less vocal in his approval, at least until Harry and Hermione set him straight.

Starfox5 said:
He later made jokes about dementors just to hurt Harry. He started as a kid, but he seemed quite determined not to grow out of his psychopathic phase in the first 4 books.

You think children making cruel and inappropriate jokes is unusual? How long has it been since you interacted with children on a regular basis?

Starfox5 said:
And I still maintain that Draco needs to be dumb to cling to his ideology. Hard work is not a perfect substitute for talent - or Hufflepuff would rule the school since they work hard, and have the same amount of talent, on average as the rest.

The world would be a far, far nicer place if it required an exceptional level of stupidity to hold on to bigotry and intolerance in the face of countervailing evidence.

Starfox5 · Jun 15, 2015

macdjord said:
Petrified. Not killed. No bodies, no funerals, no grieving families or friends. He never even sees the petrified people, except for the cat. All he sees is that people he doesn't like aren't around any more, and other people he doesn't like look scared. The fact that this fails to chance his mind doesn't indicate he's a psychopath, just that he's a nasty kid.
Frankly, if there had been instead a monster hunting Slytherins, I suspect Ron would have been only slightly less vocal in his approval, at least until Harry and Hermione set him straight..

So he's nasty and dumb, and lacking empathy - not really a good combination, especially, when he doesn't get called on it, ever.

macdjord said:
You think children making cruel and inappropriate jokes is unusual? How long has it been since you interacted with children on a regular Basis?

There are inappropriate jokes, and there's what Draco's trying to do. Quite a difference there.

macdjord said:
The world would be a far, far nicer place if it required an exceptional level of stupidity to hold on to bigotry and intolerance in the face of countervailing evidence.

If all we're arguing about is whether Draco's dumb or exceptionally dumb, then I think this topic has been covered enough. I've stated he's not going to be on the level of Harry, Hermione or Ron. I've stated I do not care about the characterizations that happened in the books 5-7. It's also rather clear that he's gone past the "nasty kid" phase, into "sadist" or "psychopath" here, but is functional enough to hide that side of him while at Hogwarts, and skilled enough to beat older students in duels, though relying on robes or family spells a bit much.

Which means that while he is an idiot, he's not exactly a pushover for the majority of the students. If that's called "bashing" him, then so be it.

macdjord · Jun 15, 2015

Starfox5 said:
So he's nasty and dumb, and lacking empathy - not really a good combination, especially, when he doesn't get called on it, ever.

Well, he does, just, y'know, in the half of canon you're ignoring.

Starfox5 said:
If all we're arguing about is whether Draco's dumb or exceptionally dumb, then I think this topic has been covered enough.

You're right. I misstated that: The world would be a far, far nicer place if it required sub-normal intelligence to hold on to bigotry and intolerance in the face of countervailing evidence. But it doesn't. The world is full of examples of otherwise quite intelligent adults maintaining prejudices that are flatly absurd.

Starfox5 said:
It's also rather clear that he's gone past the "nasty kid" phase, into "sadist" or "psychopath" here,

He's not a sadist. He's not a psychopath. He's an immature, bigoted little shit who has never faced the consequences of his actions or beliefs. (Or, well, he does, but only in the half of canon you are ignoring. And, funnily enough, when it goes from chanting slogans and parroting his father's view to actually hurting people who are in front of him, he doesn't find it so fun anymore!)

Starfox5 · Jun 15, 2015

macdjord said:
He's not a sadist. He's not a psychopath. He's an immature, bigoted little shit who has never faced the consequences of his actions or beliefs. (Or, well, he does, but only in the half of canon you are ignoring. And, funnily enough, when it goes from chanting slogans and parroting his father's view to actually hurting people who are in front of him, he doesn't find it so fun anymore!)

'Here' means, in this story, as the part of the quote you are ignoring makes clear. If I took characterization clues from the last three books, I'd have to lobotomize the entire cast.

I am not following canon. Draco's not going to be Harry's nemesis here. He's not going to be Voldemort 2.0. He's not going to shy away from hurting people who are right in front of him since he already had hurt people when the story started.

Starfox5 · Jun 18, 2015

Chapter 17: Movie Night at Hogwarts

Hermione Granger ran her wand over her robes one last time before walking up to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's Office in Hogwarts, even though her enchantments already would have removed any specks of dust and wrinkles. She had to make sure she looked impeccable - she was about to ask a very big favor of Dumbledore. Not as big as when she had wanted Harry to become her Patron, but unlike that time, tradition and custom and magic was not on her side this time. In fact, tradition and custom might be against what she was asking for - or at least against the results of what she planned to do. Magic didn't care.

"Mars bars."

The stone guardian moved aside with a slightly scraping sound, and she idly wondered if that was by design, to add some flair to entering, or a sign of a spell in need of retuning. She didn't think the Headmaster would be sloppy when it came to spells protecting his office, so it was probably by design. The actual door to the office opened before she reached it.

The office hadn't changed since her last visit. There were still the books she longed to read, the intriguing knick-knacks filling the shelves, and the friendly phoenix greeting her. Dumbledore himself was sitting behind his desk, signing some parchment before putting it into a basket, from where it promptly vanished. "Please have a seat, Miss Granger." He gestured and a comfortable chair appeared in front of his desk.

"Thank you, Sir." Hermione sat down, her enchantments automatically smoothing out her robe.

"You have asked to see me about 'a matter of magical experimentation'. An intriguing topic for many of us more academically minded, especially coming from such a brilliant student as yourself."

Hermione blushed at the compliment, but tried to keep her composure. It wouldn't do to lose her concentration here, especially since that might have been an intended effect of the flattering greeting. "Thank you, Sir."

"I speak only the truth. Mister Potter must be quite proud of your achievements." Dumbledore smiled at her. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you." Hermione's answering smile was a bit strained. This was a purely scholastic matter, not something that needed the involvement of her Patron - it wasn't as if her grades were failing, or anything else that might need an intervention from a guardian. "My Patron is aware of my plans and supports me." She pulled out a few parchments and started to explain. "I am working on enchanting electronics so they will work at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose a bit. "That is a problem many of the talented muggleborns have tackled during their time at Hogwarts in recent years. None have succeeded so far though."

"I have conducted a number of experiments and I have come to the conclusion that magic itself does not affect electronics negatively. What disturbs their function is a side effect of the wards. The stronger the wards, the more powerful the effect." Hermione pointed at a graph she had prepared. "It's contained to the area that is warded. In hindsight, it was obvious. If it was the presence of magic itself, then London would have a zone around Diagon Alley where electronics would regularly stop working."

"I am impressed, Miss Granger. You have proven that sometimes it takes an unbiased, fresh view of things to advance our knowledge." Dumbledore nodded at her, slowly and respectfully.

"Thank you, Sir. I've also created a workable runic array to counter the effect of a ward, though while it has been tested successfully - to a degree - at Grimmauld Place, adapting that to Hogwarts has run into a problem." She pulled out another parchment and handed it over. "As you can see here, to shield the electronic device from the effects of a ward requires an inverted ward, of sorts. I call it a 'counter-ward'. But, when I try this at Hogwarts, it doesn't last as long as it should. I suspect that this is because the wards of Hogwarts do not allow other wards to be created inside them - not without permission, at least." In hindsight, it was only logical that a ward would oppose an attempt to cancel it, even partially. It also meant she was more than a visitor at Grimmauld Place. Much more.

Dumbledore studied the parchments the young witch had presented to him, absently grabbing a lemon drop. Hermione noticed Fawkes, on his perch, inching closer and closer to the desk, staring at the bowl of sweets. The phoenix looked at her, then at the bowl, then back at her. Without looking up from his reading, the Headmaster stated "You have already had your daily amount of sweets, Fawkes. Please refrain from begging our guests to feed you more."

Hermione hadn't known phoenixes could sulk until she saw Fawkes's reaction to that. She had to cough to avoid giggling, but when the phoenix seemed to pout at her reproachfully not even that helped.

"Even a magical creature as magnificent as a phoenix is prone to very simple desires, and foibles. A quite humbling thought, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir." Hermione was sure the words hinted at something else, but she was waiting almost anxiously for the Headmaster to finish studying the notes she had prepared for him. She had been concise, yet detailed, laying it out all in a manner that should convince anyone - provided they cared about new magical discoveries. It was even safe, too. But what if the Headmaster deemed it not important enough? Or if he opposed the experiment because he certainly could see what it would lead to: Muggle devices at Hogwarts. Muggle culture at Hogwarts. An anathema to many purebloods. She knew Dumbledore did not share that opinion, but what if he felt her experiment, and the consequences of its - in her opinion inevitable - success would be too disruptive for Hogwarts, or Wizarding Britain? She started to bite her lower lip, then angrily stopped - she had to drop this habit, even though Harry found it cute.

Finally, the Headmaster put the parchments down and looked at her again. "A quite convincing presentation, Miss Granger. I expect this is not just a theoretical exercise."

"No, Sir. I've planned to shield a video cassette player and a television screen. Maybe a radio too, and a few other devices." Like a calculator, which was, in her opinion, the most important thing she'd have to shield. It would be fun to watch movies at Hogwarts, but to be able to use a calculator for arithmantic equations would speed up her spell crafting projects immensely.

"Are you planning a Movie Night at Hogwarts?"

Hermione blinked in surprise, which seemed to amuse the old wizard. Chuckling, he explained: "About a hundred years ago, when movies were invented, some wizards suspected a breach in the Statute of Secrecy, believing moving muggle pictures were magical in nature. When that was disproven, there was a brief craze about movies in Wizarding Britain. I remember attending a number of the early screenings myself. Though the black-and-white silent films of the time did not hold the attention of wizards for long, and the matter was dismissed. I have kept up with technological progress in that field somewhat, over the years, if not as diligently as I had wanted."

Hermione was once again reminded that Dumbledore was both older than any living muggle and more open-minded than most wizards half his age. "Yes, Sir. I am planning to watch a few movies with my friends. It would be more like television though, not a cinematic experience." Though now she couldn't help but imagining a big screen in the Great Hall, and hundreds of wizards and witches watching a big Hollywood blockbuster.

The Headmaster nodded. "Such novel things might best be introduced in small doses to such an old school."

And there went that dream. Hermione nodded. "Of course, Sir."

"I will grant you permission to conduct your experiment. I am sure you will responsible enough not to abuse the trust shown."

Yes! "Thank you, Sir! I will not disappoint you!" Hermione had to fight not to scream with glee. This was her big break-through. Once this was working, it would allow her to work far more efficiently.

The Headmaster leaned back in his seat. "This is a truly excellent example of what muggleborns can give to Wizarding Britain. New ideas, new magic, and new insights."

Hermione opened her mouth - that had hit a nerve - then hesitated. Should she comment on this remark? Risk an argument?

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Merlin, she was a Gryffindor! Hermione trusted her chin up and met the older wizard's eyes. "I think there would be more such examples, if the Patrons of muggleborns were a bit more open-minded, and not primarily concerned with ensuring that a muggleborn learns her place."

"As unfortunate as it is, the older wizards and witches get, the more conservative they generally are." Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes were serious. "But surely you have not suffered from such a mindset, with your Patron being the youngest in recorded history."

"It's not the age, but the fact that Harry was raised in the muggle world that makes him different. He knows both worlds, and he is not trying to make me forget my roots."

"But isn't the desire to stick to one's roots a foible similar to the conservative mindset among Patrons that you criticize? The Patron system was created to make sure muggleborns found a place in the Magical World, to help them integrate in a society they were not born into. Staying in the muggle world runs counter to that goal."

"That would be a better argument if we'd actually were accepted in the Magical World. As it is we are expected and 'encouraged' to abandon our culture in order to become third-class citizens in the Magical World." Hermione couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice. "It's not exactly a fair trade."

"You are an intelligent witch, Miss Granger. You must be aware that the lives of muggleborns in Britain are barely different from those of half-bloods and purebloods. You'd be hard-pressed to know their status on sight." Dumbledore's tone let the teacher he had been shine through, correcting a student's mistake.

Hermione wasn't about to admit to a mistake. "Again, that would be true - if you do not count the marriage limits, and the Wizengamot. Two rather important parts of life."

Dumbledore couldn't really counter the marriage limits muggleborns were faced with. He tried it anyway. "As your Patron's parents have proven, love will find a way around the limits of law. Do you truly care so much about the legal aspects?"

"It's the principle of the thing. Being told by the law that I am not worth as much as others simply due to the circumstances of my birth, is an insult not borne lightly. The insult is doubled by the fact that even though I am among the most talented witches of this school, I have fewer prospects after graduation than any pureblood." Hermione was almost baring her teeth when she had finished and took a deep breath to calm down again.

"That's a theoretical limit in your case. I am quite sure you will achieve whatever you want, with your Patron's full support, even though the exact ways you will use to do so might differ from those of a pureblood."

"I am aware of what I can be in private as long as I am minding my place in public." The young muggleborn witch smiled cynically. She had her pride, and playing second fiddle to anyone in public was not something she liked. Besides, she was not about to share Harry. Not even if it was just for appearance's sake.

"I would have been surprised if you had been ignorant of that."

"And yet there are limits I cannot overcome, not even in private. The Wizengamot, for example."

"There are very few among the purebloods who can expect to become a member of that body. You are hardly unique in that. And there are ways to exert some influence on the Wizengamot without being a member."

Lobbying, or rather, bribes, Hermione thought cynically. "That doesn't make it right, Headmaster."

"I am not saying that is right, or fair. But life is seldom fair. All we can do is to strive to make it better. And your planned Movie Night will be a step towards that."

"Hopefully, Sir." And the things she would be able to do with a working electronic calculator, or even a computer, later, at Hogwarts would be another, bigger step. She didn't say that though.

"Indeed. The older I grow, the more I realize that we cannot predict the future with any certainty - certain oracles and prophecies exempted, of course." The Headmaster stood up and conjured a small cup. "I'll need a bit of your blood, to give you access to the wards."

Hermione took the cup. She hadn't really expected him to let her know where the central runes that powered and directed the wards of the school were located, but she had still hoped to see them. Wincing, she hesitated a few seconds, before using a cutting hex to slice into her palm. She hissed at the sudden pain while she let blood drop into the cup.

"That should be enough, Miss Granger. I am sorry for the pain you had to suffer through, but certain magics require a small sacrifice, as unpleasant as it may be."

Hermione closed the wound with another spell, nodding. Certain magics required far larger sacrifices, of course.

"You should be able to do your experiments tomorrow evening. I am looking forward to seeing the results."

"Will you be present yourself, Sir?" Hermione was a bit taken aback. She considered those experiments hers, and hers alone, and to have the Headmaster there felt a bit like if he would be holding her hand.

"I think that it would be prudent. As you said, the wards of this school are very powerful, and very old. I do not think there is a significant risk of a catastrophic failure, but my presence will ensure your and everyone else's safety."

"Indeed, Sir." On the other hand, he had a good point. A mistake while drawing on those wards would be something she'd rather avoid.

"Good evening then, Miss Granger. It has been a pleasure to discuss with you. I do hope we will have another talk in the future." The door to the office opened soundlessly at a gesture from Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Headmaster." Hermione bowed, gathered her notes with a flick of her wand, then left. When the gargoyle had moved to block the entrance behind her again, her torc grew warm and she noticed a figure stepping out from an alcove. Harry.

"How did it go?"

"I got permission."

"Great!" The beaming smile on Harry's face, and the hug he gathered Hermione in, drove away the lingering resentment the discussion about muggleborns with the Headmaster had caused.

*****

"Bertram! I haven't seen you in a while. How are things in Magical Creatures?"

Arthur Weasley smiled at Bertram Fickleton, a Hufflepuff of his year at Hogwarts, falling in next to the corpulent wizard on his way to the floos after a day at the Ministry.

"Arthur! The department's very busy, at least my division. We've been buried under requests for reports from various Wizengamot members." Bertram slowed down a bit as he started talking, and a hurried-looking obliviator passed both of them with a mumbled apology for bumping into the other wizard.

"Oh? I wasn't aware there's legislature in the works, especially not for the Beings Division." Arthur was not that well-connected, but he did have friends all over the Ministry, and he liked to keep abreast of any new law, if only to make sure that it wouldn't impact his own work.

"Nothing is official yet, but the grapevine claims that we're looking at another reclassification effort." Bertram sighed.

"Another attempt to persuade the centaurs and merpeople?" Arthur knew both species had refused to be classified as beings because they did not want to be thrown in with species like hags and vampires, and therefore were classified as beasts by default. From time to time a new, idealistic Ministry employe would try to make them see reason, usually without any success, sometimes ending up in St. Mungo's as a result if they caught the centaurs on a day where Mars was bright.

"I wish! We'd know how to handle that. No, this is coming from the Wizengamot, and involves reclassifying some magical creatures as beasts. Such a thing hasn't happened in decades, so we've all pretty much been caught on the wrong foot and have to make up things as we go." Bertram had the long-suffering expression of a bureaucrat forced to leave his comfort zone.

"Which creature do they want to reclassify as beasts?" Arthur hadn't heard of any incident that would make a Wizengamot member try to claim a species was, like Acromantulas, too lethal and violent to be a magical being, no matter their intelligence. The last giant rampage in Britain had been centuries ago, and Greyback's atrocities during the last war had been overshadowed by the exploits of the Death Eaters.

"We've been compiling reports about Veelas, werewolves, hags, vampires and giants."

"What? That's just about every magical being!"

"Yes! The division would be reduced to the Goblin Liaison Office and the Office for House-Elf Relocation!" Bertram shook his head in apparent shock. "Everyone of us is working as hard as possible to prevent this."

"I bet. Who came up with this nonsense?"

"I don't know - the requests came from different members." Bertram shrugged. "We cannot exactly ask them - Wizengamot members are a bit prickly when one insinuates they might be working for someone else."

"Oh, yes." Arthur chuckled, but he had to force himself to, waving while Bertram took the floo to his home. Then he sighed. Such a piece of legislation would damage the relations to all those species, even if it failed. And it was certain it would fail. The Wizengamot was not as foolish as the Ministry employees liked to claim after a few pints in the Leaky Cauldron.

He muttered a curse Molly would scold him for. His family would be directly affected - Bill was serious about Fleur, and this would have a big impact on their relationship; namely where they would be living after marriage, maybe even on their marriage itself. Fleur already was not fond of the fact she was considered a hal-blood in Britain. If she heard the Wizengamot was debating whether she was to be classified as a beast… He was sure that that would cause fireballs to fly.

Whoever was behind this was likely planning to stir up trouble, and that pointed at those wizards the Headmaster was worried about. He'd have to meet Bertram for a chat tomorrow, in his office, and see if he could take a look at the requests from the Wizengamot. Maybe Arthur could recognize the style.

He checked his watch, then nodded. Percy would still be working. His son hadn't been visiting the Burrow as often as Molly would have liked since he had moved out into a flat of his own, and inviting him for dinner would be a good cover for informing him about this ploy. Percy had his own contacts in the Ministry, and a good relationship with Barty Crouch. He might find out more about this as well. In times like these, family had to stick together.

*****

Harry Potter told himself that it was for the best, that Hermione was much safer this way, that it was just the smart thing to do, and that it wasn't as if there was any other choice. It did not help - he still didn't like the Headmaster assisting Hermione with her experiment.

This was their private room. They had picked it, furnished it, enchanted it together. They had invited friends, of course, but above all it had been theirs. Many evenings the two of them had been sitting there, talking, snogging, and sharing their dreams. Well, not all of their dreams. Some of the dreams he had had, usually after a talk with his godfather, he'd not tell anyone, least of all Hermione. He forced his thoughts away from those guilty pleasures. He still felt like the Headmaster was intruding on them in their home. It couldn't be helped though - Hogwarts was Dumbledore's castle, after all. Harry summoned a can of cola for himself and took a sip, watching his Hermione go over the rune array in the radio with the old wizard.

"Feels almost like a lesson, doesn't it, mate?" Ron whispered behind him, then slid over the couch and fell into the seat next to Harry. A bottle of butterbeer followed him, floating next to his head. "Weird that it's not Hermione doing the lecturing."

Harry frowned, then nodded. "Weird." Maybe that was why Hermione was taking this much better than he had expected when she first told him that the Headmaster would be attending the experiment. If she saw it not as an intrusion, but a special lesson… he took another sip from his can, watching Hermione nod eagerly at Dumbledore complimenting her rune arrays.

"If that was Lockhart I'd be concerned in your place." Ron chuckled.

Harry laughed. Ron's joke still stung a bit, but only a bit. The thought of Albus Dumbledore as a romantic rival for the affections of his retainer was absurd. Lockhart, of course, would be a different matter - most of the girls had had a crush on the handsome author in their second year. Hermione too, now that he thought of it. "It's not Lockhart though." He knew Hermione loved him. He was still glad it was not Lockhart here with them.

"Speaking of, my dad told me that the last rider on the Basilisk Bill was removed, and it's expected to pass at the next session. We'll get our money, only two years late." Ron grinned widely.

"Better late than never. And it's not as we're hurting for gold." Not at all. Even if Hermione still felt guilty for 'wasting' Harry's money on her projects. He would have to convince her that it wasn't wasted at all, as long as it made her happy. The compensation for the basilisk they had killed together with Lockhart would help with that, hopefully. Even though her not getting a cut of her own, but only through him, would vex her. Harry frowned. Life wasn't fair for muggleborns.

"We're about to test it!" Hermione's excited voice shook him from his gloomy thoughts. The witch was beaming and pointing at the radio standing in the middle of the stone table. Ron ducked and shielded his face jokingly, and Harry was sure that if Dumbledore hadn't been there, Ron would have been dodging a jinx or two right now, which Hermione would later excuse as 'extra defense training'.

Hermione frowned instead, and glared at Ron, who was entirely unimpressed. He should know better than to tweak Hermione's nose like this, Harry thought - Sirius had been a bad influence on her. Then again, Ron had grown up with Fred and George. He was used to getting pranked. Or hexed. Ginny had a rather nasty temper too, when she was riled up.

"I think we are ready, Miss Granger."

Hermione beamed again, took a deep breath, then pushed a button on the radio. Harry heard a crackling sound and for a moment was sure the experiment had failed. Then a pop song's lyrics filled the room and he realized it had just been the usual static until the correct frequency had been found. Harry didn't recognize the song or singer.

Hermione was staring at the radio, biting her lower lip and pulling on a strand of her hair that had escaped her styling spell. The song ended - according to the radio moderator it had been Michael Jackson's 'You Are Not Alone' - and 'Cotton Eye Joe' took its place. The radio still didn't spontaneously combust.

"Ah, Music. Magical in all its appearances." Dumbledore was smiling widely. Hermione was still staring at the radio, and checking her watch. Harry stepped up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He knew better than to congratulate her, it would only trigger a small rant about proper procedure in testing, and how it could still fail. She leaned into him, her head touching his shoulder.

The Headmaster waved his wand over the radio. "I do not detect any degradation of the wards, or the runes."

"It's still a bit early." Hermione stated, but she was smiling now. It figured that Dumbledore could call it, Harry thought.

"Indeed. But I think we can start on your Video Cassette Player now."

"Oh, Yes!" And with that, Hermione's full attention was on the next step of her planned experiment. Harry wasn't sure she even noticed that he had returned to the couch, where Ron was still seated.

"Mental, mate."

"She's been working towards this for years." Harry defended his retainer.

"I know, but you should have seen your face." His redheaded friend chuckled again, finishing his bottle. "Dumped for a muggle artefact, how tragic. Hey - that sounds kind of kinky."

Harry decided that he'd help Hermione with whatever she would do to get back at Ron. And maybe ask Sirius for ideas.

*****

"This looks like the remains of a Defense O.W.L. examination day," Kenneth Fenbrick stated, waving his wand and staring at the busted shop at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Debris was strewn around the entrance, and inside, all over the place. The sign, proclaiming it to be 'Dan's Trusty Trinkets', had been torn off and banished through the window. "Reducto, Confringo, Bombarda, Incendio a few times. Aguamenti too - some moron probably set himself on fire by accident and had to douse himself." It had happened to a classmate of his, at his O.W.L. exam.

"Are you suggesting that a group of students went overboard while revising?" Bertha Limmington, Kenneth's partner, sounded as if she was doubting him. Or mocking him. It was hard to tell with her deadpan delivery.

"No. I'm just saying that this was the work of an uncoordinated bunch of thugs using basic spells. Not a team of wands for hire."

"Or they wanted to make it look like it was a group of untrained thugs." Bertha crouched down and poked a melted lamp with her wand. The thing was still floating, despite being half-destroyed. That was some strong spellwork there.

"It was a second-hand shop for trinkets. Not usually the kind of shop that would rate such attention. And if it did, it'd have had better defenses. What did the owner say?" Kenneth stepped around the shattered and still smoking remains of the counter. The fire wards had held, since the building was still standing, so someone had been trying very hard to get a fire going. Dumb and stubborn.

"That he has no idea why anyone would attack his shop. No one asked for protection money, apparently, and he doesn't remember any enemies." Bertha stood up, stretching slightly, and Kenneth once again wished she was a bit more fun.

"Do you believe him?"

"I believe we need to investigate this further." Bertha stated in her usual, careful manner, refusing to answer him. Kenneth was sure if he asked her how the weather was, she'd say something like 'I think it looks like it's currently sunny' or something.

"That's the second shop in the area that was hit like this. First 'Carol's Clothes', now this one. I think someone's got plans for this area. Maybe a gang." Kenneth was more inclined to trust his gut, even without hard evidence. And his gut told him that this was not just the work of some drunk idiots blowing off steam.

"We cannot rule out any explanation at this point."

"Maybe it's a plot from a warding firm. To create demand for better security." Kenneth speculated.

Bertha gave him a look that said that contrary to her words, she was ruling out this explanation. Kenneth knew as well as his partner that the kind of firm that those shops would contract would not risk hiring thugs in Knockturn Alley, for fear of getting blackmailed as a result. But some people were just dumb enough to do it anyway.

"Both shopkeepers were muggleborn." Bertha stated as the two left the ruined shop.

Kenneth knew what she was hinting at. "Most of the shopkeepers around this part are muggleborns." Only the really poor purebloods would start a business that close to Knockturn Alley.

Bertha nodded, acknowledging the point. Kenneth didn't mention that he had thought about that as well. Some things one didn't mention though, the war was still fresh in people's minds, and the attack on the World Cup a year ago hadn't helped. "Did they increase the foot patrols in the area?"

Bertha shook her head. "No. The brass said there was no need for that since it was just some vandalism."

"I wonder what they'll say when the first shop owner gets wrecked along with his shop."

Bertha didn't answer that. Kenneth hadn't expected her to either.

*****

"Mister Longbottom, were you born this stupid, or did someone curse you? If you are as inept with your wand as you are with your cauldron, the latter seems quite plausible. That's by far the worst attempt at a Pepper-Up potion I have ever seen in my entire career!"

Neville cringed, and Hermione winced in sympathy. The Potion Master had been far nastier this term than in the years before. What used to be biting sarcasm was now bordering on verbal abuse more often than not. Crossing over a few times, even. Everyone, even Slytherins, suffered from his sharp tongue at the slightest provocation, but Neville had it the worst. Her friend was not talented in Potions - Hermione, the default tutor in their dorm knew that better than anyone else - and he tended to attract the lion's share of Snape's ire and venom.

"I would ask you to drink it so you would finally learn to pay more attention to your teachers, but I think it would just shock you into a coma by wrecking your tiny brain, and St. Mungo's should not be burdened with you when there are other, not self-inflicted cases to treat." The Professor sneered and vanished Neville's potion before turning away.

Hermione gasped at the cruel comment. Bringing up Neville's parents like this… she was certain Snape knew about their fate, and had done that deliberately to hurt the Gryffindor. Neville himself was trembling, tears - of anguish or anger, or both, she couldn't say - forming in his eyes.

Snape smiled faintly and addressed the class. "Those who, like Mister Longbottom, seem determined to waste valuable ingredients to produce failed potions that would do more harm than good should anyone be so foolish as to imbibe them, would do well to study their books again until the next lesson. While I have no doubt that our resident menace to cauldrons will fail his O.W.L.s, some of you dunderheads might still achieve a passing grade with hard work. If you even know what hard work means, spoiled as you are. Now clean your cauldrons and get out!"

Hermione was trembling with anger herself when she left the classroom. How could a teacher be so vile? Harry too looked incensed, and Ron was muttering words Mrs Weasley would scourgify his mouth for under his breath. Neville meanwhile seemed to have shrunk, his shoulders hunched and his gate fixated on the floor, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Malfoy sneered at the him while walking past. "That lout's a menace. One of those days he'll kill us all with a cauldron explosion. We can just hope the blast will be contained by his fellow Gryffindors!" He loudly complained to Parkinson, who looked slightly uncomfortable. Did the brainless witch really think Neville would kill them by accident? He had melted two cauldrons, but that had been in their first year!

Everyone of the students exiting the room had heard the words of the blond Slytherin, as he no doubt had intended. Hermione saw Neville tense up and draw his wand. The Gryffindor might even have done something violent, if not for Harry and Ron grabbing his arms and pulling him away. Hermione glared at Malfoy and Parkinson before following the boys. She kept her wand ready though, and an eye on the couple - if they tried to hex Harry in the back they'd be cursed before they could lift their wands.

A few minutes later they were in what everyone now knew as their room, and Neville was blasting at stone animals conjured by Ron and Harry. "Curse that git! I hope he dies from one of his potions!" The normally calm and friendly student was ranting, shaking with rage as his spells hit the floor and walls as often as the animals. Hermione was very glad she had reinforced the room with spells, back when she started using it for spell crafting, testing, and other experiments.

After a few minutes, Neville seemed to run out of steam and collapsed on a couch. He hid his face with his hands while his shoulders shook. No one said anything, but when he stopped and wiped his face, Ron handed him a butterbeer with a nod.

Hermione took a drink of her own - a sugar free diet coke - and sat down next to Harry. "We need to file a complaint. The Potion Master was far out of line."

"If my Gran heard of this, she'd duel him. She's good, but Snape's nasty. I don't want to risk her getting hurt, or…" Neville took a deep breath, fighting to keep his composure again. Hermione's heart went out to him.

"Mate, hate to say it, but even if we do not tell anyone, this will get out. Malfoy's probably laughing all the way to their dorm, and you can bet that this kind of news spreads fast." Ron patted Neville's shoulder.

"If the school takes action your grandmother won't duel him." Hermione hoped so, in any case - if a grievance was handled by the law, it was very uncommon to end in a duel. These days, at least. Duels were still tolerated even though they were technically illegal.

Neville slowly nodded. "I guess I don't have a choice then."

"OK, let's write down what happened then, so there's no doubt about it!" Hermione summoned a few sheets of parchment from her stack in the room, followed by quills and pens. It didn't take long until they had a detailed report ready. Hermione duplicated the parchment a few times and handed two copies off to Neville. She'd have offered to fill out his complaint form for him as well, if that had not been a faux pas bordering on an insult. She wasn't his retainer, after all. Just his friend.

True to Ron's prediction, Ginny arrived then, having heard of the incident from the other Gryffindors of their year, and another round of drinks was summoned. Hermione made a mental note to restock their private pantry next week. While food could be gotten from the house elves in the kitchen easily, drinks other than pumpkin juice had to be bought elsewhere, especially muggle soft drinks.

"So, I heard you finished your muggle 'player'. What exactly does it do?" Neville was obviously wanting to talk about anything but Snape's vitriol if he was asking about Hermione's experiments, since he had not shown any interest in them so far. The young witch was only too happy to oblige him though.

"It's a Video Cassette Player. Together with a television we can watch muggle movies here at Hogwarts." Hermione showed the group the player and the screen, both standing in a corner in the room. Then she had to explain what movies were, though she was not certain if Neville truly had no idea, or simply wanted to make sure they'd not talk about the incident in Potions again.

"We need to decide what kind of movies we'll be watching though - I have to order them from my parents." Hermione stated after she had finished explaining. There was no telling what kind of movies Sirius would send them, if they asked him. Or Nymphadora.

"Star Wars!" Harry said at once.

"It's a great movie, and a classic." Hermione admitted. It might be a bit much for purebloods, but if it was just them and their close friends, Hermione was sure she could explain the concept of Science Fiction to the purebloods. "I was thinking of a movie set in our time first though. Maybe a comedy."

"It would have to be a rather blunt comedy. Most of the humor of the more sophisticated ones would require constant explanations. And that kills the experience." Harry countered.

"Yes." Hermione sighed. The first movie night with Nymphadora had been quite tiring, almost stressful even for her. She couldn't enjoy a movie if she had to explain every scene. The young witch frowned. There should be a movie that was both classy and easy to understand. Then it hit her.

"We could watch an animated Disney movie!"

Of course then she had to explain what an animated movie was, and what Disney was about. At least by the time she had explained that the Magic Kingdom was not an American wizard enclave, at least not to her knowledge, she had convinced the others to watch ''The Lion King' at the first Hogwarts Movie Night.

*****

"Oh, you fought in the Intervention? You must be really brave and powerful!" Mathilda Miller was laying it on thick, probably too thick. But her mark was drunk, and what wits the fire whiskey had left him were busy trying to picture her naked judging by his leering expression. Not that the robes she was wearing at the moment made that feat particularly difficult. A few floating strips of fabric and illusionary wisps of smoke didn't conceal much of her body.

Seducing a drunken wand for hire who was dumb enough to boast of having taken part in an operation that happened before he was born was almost beneath her. Mathilda had been trained by the best courtesans of the French Court, after all. But Aberforth had asked her to help him, and she owed the old man too much to refuse. Even if he was acting on behalf of his brother. Former brother, she corrected herself. If not for Aberforth, her sister would have ended up a Janissary. And Mathilda herself would have gotten killed trying to rescue her.

And so she was sitting in a dive in Knockturn Alley, flirting with a lout named Gerald Tuckle, who might know more about the latest hiring wave among the bottom feeders of Wizarding Britain by virtue of belonging to the ranks of said bottom feeders. At least no one here would recognize her thanks to a few other spells and muggle makeup.

"Oh, yes. I am the best wand in the alley."

"You must be rich too then - the best is paid the most." Long practise kept Mathilda smiling and her giggle when the wizard pulled her on his lap convincingly surprised sounding.

"Oh, yes. I just got paid!" The wizard shook a purse, as if in the age of expansion charms anyone could still tell how much gold a wizard carried.

"Oh, so you are looking for work again?" Mathilda ran a hand through her mark's beard. Well groomed, if not too bright or handsome.

"No, I am paid a tidy sum just for not hiring on with anyone else!" The wizard's hand - his left, he kept his wand hand free - was starting to wander while he boasted.

"Your boss must be smart then - and rich."

"That he is."

Mathilda gently but firmly grabbed the wizard's hand before it could get too far. "Maybe we should retire to a private room? This is hardly the place for an intimate discussion," she whispered into his ear.

As expected the mercenary readily agreed - she had taken care to appear just a cut above the other women plying their trade in the dive. Not enough to look out of place, but enough to stand out. Casting advanced privacy spells in public could alert whoever was hiring those lowlives. A private room, with a few more spells layered on, would be a much better place to use legilimency on a drunk and exhausted wizard.

*****

Sirius, wearing his best robes, bowed to the four lovely girls who had just arrived by floo. Chantal, Eugénie, Laure and Valérie, the shy one. Or so he thought he remembered her as. His memory was a bit fuzzy when it came to the nights spent in Chateau d'Aigle. But they were happy memories. They had to be happy memories. No one could be less than perfectly happy with so many charming veela. Straightening up, the wizard declared: "I offer you the hospitality of my home."

Chantal, the eldest veela and default leader of the group, bowed, followed by her cousins. "We accept your 'ospitality."

With the formalities over, Sirius grinned widely, and winked at the veela. "Welcome to No 12, Grimmauld Place! Ancestral home of the Black Family, and once the most cursed building in London."

As expected, that caused the girls to giggle, though a bit nervously. Curses were a serious matter, after all. Or were supposed to be - a lot of curses were quite funny, if they happened to the right person. Sirius could think of a number of people who'd fit that bill. Laure was eyeing the floo powder bowl as if it might sprout teeth and leap at her any moment. Though that curse had been one of the first that had been taken care of, of course.

He smiled at her. "Rest assured, the best curse-breakers gold could hire cleared the house. It's perfectly safe now." It never hurt to subtly mention that he was rich. People were so much more tolerant and friendly if they knew one had money. "Safe from curses and dark magic, at least. Some of my less gifted friends would consider me a danger to beautiful witches."

Chantal giggled. "Why would they think that? You are, after all, a perfect gentleman." Why, yes, he was - for a certain definition of 'perfect', of course.

"Jealousy, no doubt. Now let me show you your rooms." He offered his arms to Chantal and Laure, and led the group upstairs, to the guest rooms, pointing at a few portraits on the walls. It felt good to have more guests in the house. With his family off at Hogwarts, the house was too lonely. Remus was visiting often, but he wasn't enough. Neither was Viktor.

"Those four rooms have been prepared for you, feel free to use them as long as you wish." He pointed to the last four doors in the hallway on the first floor, then at the first door. "This room is occupied by Viktor Krum. He's spending a few weeks here. He's currently sightseeing in London with Nymphadora, but he will be back for dinner."

"Ah!" Eugénie smirked. "Nymphadora 'as an amant then?"

Sirius suspected the seeker fancied his cousin quite a bit, for joining her on her expeditions into muggle London, but it wouldn't do to gossip about close family. Unless it was Narcissa. "I would never pry into the private life of my cousin," he stated, with as much honesty as he could muster.

"We can always ask them at dinner, can't we?" Laure smiled innocently, but her eyes shone with mirth. A witch after his own heart, Sirius thought.

"Of course." Dinner would be entertaining. Especially if Remus would stay after his "walk" through Muggle London. Why his old friend suddenly had decided to explore the muggle part of the town Sirius couldn't fathom, but at least he hadn't tried to tag along with Nymphadora and Viktor. "Once you're settled in your rooms I'll show you the rest of the house. We'll skip the dungeons in the cellar, of course."

"Dungeons, Sirius?" Eugénie asked.

"Dungeons." Sirius nodded. Clearing the curses from those areas had been interesting.

"That sounds interesting." Valérie spoke up, for the first time since arriving.

Sirius blinked in surprise at the shy one, but quickly smiled. "If you wish to see them I will of course comply with your request, though I've to warn you: my ancestors had some peculiar tastes."

"Oh, those sort of dungeons?" She blushed in a quite fetching manner.

"Yes." There were the other sorts of dungeons as well. His family's reputation had been well-deserved, after all. But those rooms he had personally wrecked and sealed off. He had no intention to let them be used ever again.

Chantal giggled, drawing his attention back to her. "I 'ave to thank you again, Sirius, for your generous invitation." She paused just long enough for him to open his mouth to answer, then continued: "Later tonight."

That caused another round of giggles and comments. Sirius kissed her hand. "Only a cad would refuse this, mademoiselle." He ran his thumb over the back of her hand before releasing it, and was pleased to see her smile widen in response.

The four witches disappeared into their rooms to freshen up, and Sirius went downstairs. One of the portraits of his ancestors frowned at him disapprovingly, but he ignored it. There was no reason to feel guilty, or bad. None at all. He had four lovely witches in his house, he had to be happy. Anyone in his place would be happy.

He didn't know why he changed into a dog for a nap, but Padfoot was not questioning it.

*****

Remus Lupin was scowling while he was walking through London. He didn't see the appeal of the muggle town at all. Muggle city, whatever. Too many people, too many cars, too many unfamiliar things. No magic at all. Why would anyone want to spend time here, instead of in Wizarding Britain? Well, he knew why Krum was doing it - the boy was trying to get into Nymphadora's pants. Or had succeeded already.

Remus was not fond of the relationship that seemed to be forming between the Bulgarian and Sirius's cousin. Even if the star seeker was not just abusing his fame to score with an impressionable young witch, or simply wanted to try out how a metamorphmagus was in bed, how long could a relationship last when one partner was an auror, working long hours in Britain, and the other a professional Quidditch player from Bulgaria?

The werewolf couldn't understand why Sirius was not concerned. Nymphadora was his family, after all. By blood. Sure, Krum had fought at their side, but so had Peter, once.

The cursed wizard stopped, closing his eyes for a moment. What was he thinking? Krum was no Pettigrew. And Nymphadora was no student of his, nor a former student. There was no reason to be that worked up. None at all.

Angry at himself, he lengthened his strides, stalking through the streets, no longer paying attention to the muggles, who were avoiding him. Until he saw a werewolf in a shop.

He almost drew his wand before he realized it was but a life-sized picture. And there was no full moon anyway, or he'd not be here. Why would muggles have such a thing in their shop? Did anyone break the Statute of Secrecy? He gasped. If a werewolf had deliberately exposed himself to muggles, the repercussions for all other werewolves would be worse than after Greyback's rampages in the last war. He had to investigate!

With that thought he entered the 'video shop', passing a sign that announced a 'horror movie sale'. Upon closer examination, the werewolf was not as lifelike as he had feared. The dimensions were wrong, and a werewolf could not stand like this. Unless of course it was a foreign variant he was not familiar with. Though, the Quibbler's claims notwithstanding, he doubted such a thing existed.

"Do you like werewolves?" A perky voice interrupted his study of the picture.

"What?" He turned around and saw the sales girl was smiling at him.

"You've been looking at the cutout for minute. Are you interested in werewolves? We've got all the werewolf movies ever made on sale. Well, all the good ones at least."

There were werewolf movies? Why hadn't anyone ever told him that? He was a bit sensitive about his curse, yes, but he'd have expected Hermione at least to tell him about such things. "Yes, please."

"There are all on this shelf here. The classics, and the goofy ones, like Teen Wolf."

"Teen Wolf?"

The sales girl pointed to a small box depicting a boy with furry hands and weird clothes. On the back there was a picture of a brown yeti in weirder clothes. "That's supposed to be a werewolf?"

"Well, it's a comedy."

"A comedy? About a werewolf?" It took all of his self-control not to set the box on fire. To make light of the terrible curse that had ruined his life, to turn it into entertainment … at least he knew why it was called a horror movie.

*****

Voldemort was watching as six of his latest potential recruits approached the small house in one of London's sprawling suburbs. It belonged to Brian Smith, a mudblood working at 'Calderson's', a shop owned by a blood traitor. A good target to test the resolve of the wands he had hired. He himself was polyjuiced into Finnegan Greenbrand and wearing his customary hood, and had hidden under a disillusion charm as well, just in case anyone witnessed this - and lived to tell the tale.

He watched with a critical eye as they threw up anti-apparition wards, anti-muggle wards, and blocked floo travel. Slow, and a bit sloppy, but not as bad as he had feared. But the real trick was breaking the wards on the house. They were not particularly strong, a far cry from the wards on the home of an old pureblood family, but if they bungled it up, the backlash might alert the obliviators. And kill them, if their shields were as sloppy as their wandwork.

They didn't bungle it, though they came close. So close actually, that he had been tempted to hex the lot and do it himself. But that would have defeated the purpose of this exercise. Smith must have noticed the attack by now, but he hadn't shown himself. He either was cowering, paralyzed with fright, trying to hide, or was preparing an ambush.

One thug blew the door open with a reducto and charged in. Sloppy. Should have at least cast a shield first, or sent a few more spells inside. Or gone through a window. Before the rest of the wizards could follow, spells flashed inside the house, and the first thug's body flew out through the window. Smith had been waiting for them then. Quite a strong banishment spell, but the thug would live.

More spells followed, forcing the rest of the attackers to take cover, and Smith shot out of the window on a broom. For a moment, Voldemort was tempted to let him escape. He had taught the rabble a lesson or two, after all, which they'd not soon forget. And the desire to avenge that slight would motivate them further. But then, it was a mudblood, and he had other plans. A flick of his wand sent a few spells at the fleeing wizard, causing him to crash when his broom ceased to function.

Smith was hurt, dazed from the impact, and still he managed to get his wand up and shield himself. But ganging up on a single, wounded target was what the thugs were good at. And so Smith got the worst possible outcome - he couldn't escape, but didn't die quickly either.

Voldemort made a note of the various spells and enthusiasm shown by the group, then went into the house to hide a few stolen items inside. That should convince the aurors investigating it that Smith had been a thief and this attack was just criminals settling accounts among themselves. And it would damage the reputation of the mudblood's employer and Patron as well.

*****

It had been supposed to be just Harry, herself, and their close friends, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna and Aicha, at the first Movie Night at Hogwarts. But of course, Ron had to invite Padma as well. Susan had invited herself, at least in Hermione's opinion, as soon as she had heard of it - they couldn't refuse her when she asked if she could come as well, that would have been an insult. And the redhead had brought her best friend Hannah Abbot. No one had invited Fred and George, but to send them away would have meant pranks disturbing the event. And the twins had brought the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team as well as their friend Lee.

All in all there were about three times the number of people attending than expected. Hermione wouldn't have minded that much - Sirius had bought the largest display possible, which meant it could handle that number - if not for the event turning public enough so she'd have to be Harry's retainer, instead of his friend. Distributing snacks and drinks, handling the furniture - well, she'd have done that anyway, she wanted her big triumph to be perfect after all - and explaining what an animated movie was.

But when she unveiled the television display and put the cassette into the player, when she dimmed the lights in the room and started the movie, all that was forgotten. She had made history! She had proven a widespread assumption wrong! She had brought muggle movies to Hogwarts!

It was a very proud and happy witch that snuggled up to her boyfriend while on the screen Simba was introduced to his future subjects, and the magic of Walt Disney started to affect the wizards and witches watching the movie with rapt attention, enthralled by a magic they hadn't known before.

Chapter 18: Grave News

Starfox5 · Jun 19, 2015

What's your impression on Sirius in this chapter? I fiddled a lot with that scene, trying to get it right.

macdjord · Jun 19, 2015

A man in the midst of well-hidden depression, going through the motions of things which are supposed to make him happy and wondering why it's not working.

turbinicarpus · Jun 19, 2015

Starfox5 said:
him, absent~~minded~~ly

Starfox5 said:
forward to seeing the

Starfox5 said:
I think that it would be prudent.

Starfox5 said:
but my presence will ensure your and everyone else's safety

Thank you ever so much for getting the ensure/insure right!

Starfox5 said:
muggleborns with the Headmaster had caused .

Starfox5 said:
~~How are~~ How're things in Magical Creatures

Starfox5 said:
to add some ~~flare~~ flair to entering

Unless the purpose was to set the visitors on fire.

Starfox5 said:
It was even safe, too.

Starfox5 said:
wizard on ~~their~~ his way

It refers to the coworker before Arthur joined him.

Starfox5 said:
keep ~~ahead~~ abreast of any new law,

Starfox5 said:
make sure that it wouldn't

Starfox5 said:
Such a thing hasn't ~~never~~ happened in decades

Starfox5 said:
Such a piece of ~~legislature~~ legislation would damage

Starfox5 said:
Ministry employees liked to claim ~~when drinking~~ after a pint in the Leaky Cauldron

Starfox5 said:
He was sure that that would cause fireballs to fly.

Starfox5 said:
been the usual ~~interference~~ static until the correct

Starfox5 said:
Even if the star seeker was not just abusing his fame to score with an impressionable young witch,

You know that Nymphadora is at least 4 years older than Viktor, right?

Starfox5 said:
"I'll need a bit of your blood, to give you access to the wards."

So, how long until Hermione finds a privilege escalation exploit and pwns Hogwarts?

Starfox5 · Jun 19, 2015

Pahan said:
It refers to the coworker before Arthur joined him.

It was meant to indicate that both were on their way, but I changed it anyway.

I didn't change the "How're things". Just doesn't sound as fitting as "How are".

Pahan said:
You know that Nymphadora is at least 4 years older than Viktor, right?

Of course. But this is Remus thinking - and he's jealous of Viktor (not that he'd admit that even to himself), so Viktor has to be the big bad star Seeker going after an impressionable witch.

Pahan said:
So, how long until Hermione finds a privilege escalation exploit and pwns Hogwarts?

She wasn't shown where the actual wards are anchored and controlled from for a reason. But theoretically she could now ward "their" room. She'll be busy optimizing her break-through though - like creating "cages" that block the wards, so she doesn't have to ward every individual device, but can simply put them inside such a cage - preferably with adjustable dimensions.

Starfox5 · Jun 25, 2015

Chapter 18: Grave News

When Simba's and Nala's cub was presented to the other animals, and the closing song was starting, many of the watching wizards and witches were still spellbound. A number even had tears in their eyes, Hermione Granger noted.

"Wow." Susan Bones summed up the most common reaction. "So that's Disney."

"Do muggle animals talk and sing like that?" Luna, of course, was focusing on something else. "A sphynx could do both, I think."

"No, Luna, it's an animated movie. Animals, I mean, muggle animals, do not really talk like that." Hermione briefly struggled with the temptation to start lecturing about the movie's background, the similarities to the 'Kimba the White Lion' TV series, and the voice actors chosen for the roles, but managed not to. It would have detracted from the impact of the work of art. "They invented the story, the characters and the music for this movie."

"I didn't know muggles could do something like that. Gran told me she saw a few muggle movies, but they were all back and white, and had no sound." Neville commented.

"That's how they started. They soon added music, and later sound. Then color, about 50 years ago. Since then they also added 3D effects, though those require special glasses, and are not too common." Hermione couldn't help expanding on the technical history.

"That was just a tv screen. Imagine watching that movie in a theatre, on a big screen!" Harry put in, helpfully.

"Oh, can we do that?" Luna piped up. "Would the Great Hall be big enough for the screen?"

Hermione frowned at her patron before answering that. "It would, but we can't really put a cinema into Hogwarts. Well, one could maybe acquire a projector, but it would be quite the project. Simply enlarging the tv picture with a lens would not work well." Sirius might, if asked, buy a video projector. But a real cinema projector? Even if she managed to get one of those, and shield it, Hermione wasn't certain if one could acquire movies for it as a private citizen. Not without some record fudging with magic, at least. And creating a fake cinema seemed a bit too complicated. On the other hand, they would get access to all the newest movies...

"How did they make the pictures move without magic?" George asked, interrupting her train of thoughts. He and his brother had stuck their heads together for a while.

Hermione happily started to explain how animated movies worked. It was not too easy for a magical to understand though, as she found out. If only she had thought of getting or making a flip-book!

"The pictures are not moving, but they fool our eyes to make us think they are moving? How is that possible without magic?"

Hermione's smile became a bit forced as she delved into how eyes worked, which led to a brief excurse into biology. Which attracted Luna, who apparently felt that biology was close enough to magizoology to require further study.

By the time Hermione was trying to explain that the "trick" animators used to make the spectators think the pictures were moving couldn't be used by Snorkacks to fool hunters her boyfriend and their best friend were openly smirking from where they were talking about the movie's story and music with the rest of their friends. Traitors!

Thank God they hadn't shown Star Wars. If they ever did, Harry would be fielding all those questions. And maybe she'd ask a few of her own, just to see him sweat! She'd need something else to get back at Ron, though.

*****

News of the Movie Night spread quickly, Harry Potter thought after getting up in the morning. Shortly after he and his friends had returned to the Gryffindor dorms last night, right before curfew, everyone inside had heard of the event. He was certain even those among his fellow students who had professed to have no interest in 'muggle contraptions' had been jealous of those who had managed to attend. Hermione, smirking, had even bet him that Lavender and Parvati would ask to attend the next Movie Night. He hadn't asked his girlfriend if she planned to turn them down, or graciously allow them to come. Sometimes it was a bit scary to see how well Hermione could hold a grudge.

Harry sent a flock of birds to circle around the head of Ron, who was still sleeping, or trying to, so his friend wouldn't have to rush through breakfast, then descended to the common room. Hermione wasn't there yet, which was unusual - but maybe she was held back by her dorm mates hogging the bathroom. She had complained a few times about that.

"There he is!" Harry's attention was torn away from the stairs leading to the girls' rooms to the gaggle of kids slowly, hesitantly surrounding him. First years, all of them, he realized - he had counted them often enough at the start of the year to make sure no one got lost. Smiling, he greeted them. "Good morning, everyone. What's up?"

Mary-Ann Smitherson, the closest to a leader the first years had, swallowed, and took a step forward - or rather, from the way she glared back over her shoulder, she had been pushed forward by the students behind her. Smiling nervously, she faced him again. "Ah, Mister Potter, we, ah, we wanted to know if we could attend the next Movie Night!"

The little girl smiled at him with pleading, hopeful eyes, together with the rest of her yearmates. Only a heartless grump could have refused them. Harry wasn't like Snape. "Of course you can." He smiled at them, and when they started to cheer and hug each other, he felt great. What a way to start a day, making so many children happy!

"Mister Potter?" A shy, hesitant question made him look to his side. There was the smallest, youngest second year in Gryffindor, Lisbeth Brown.

"Yes, Lisbeth?" He wasn't about to tell her she should call him 'just Harry'. That would have been a faux pas, implying far too much familiarity with someone not even in his year and classes.

"Can I and a few friends of mine attend too? I mean, I'd understand if that would be too many…" She trailed off, eyes downcast, lips pouting and trembling, and Harry just knew she'd go to her room and cry if he turned her down.

"Of course. Everyone who wants to come can come!"

"Thank you!" Lisbeth cheered up at once, beamed at him, then turned around and rushed to her older sister, Lavender, who apparently had just come down from her room. "He said everyone can come!" More cheering followed that declaration, and Lavender shot him a wide smile too.

"And I was wondering why Lavender and Parvati didn't ask me about the Movie Night, but still hogged the bathroom longer than usual." Hermione must have come down herself while he had been talking to the kids, and contrary to everyone, she didn't look very happy. Oh, she was smiling, but he could see it was rather forced. He didn't understand for a moment, then he noticed the first and second years surrounding Lavender and Parvati.

"Oh." He had been played.

"Yes, 'Oh'." His girlfriend's eyes bored into his. "Would you care to tell me how we will manage to show a movie to the entire school with just a single tv?"

Harry was very glad that they were in public, and would remain so for several hours, more if he played it right, so Hermione couldn't hex him. "Ah… I think I'll write Sirius. Right after breakfast. What kind of equipment do you think we'll need?"

The look she shot him made it clear that she was not about to forget this, but compiling a list - he was sure she had thought about it already - would let her calm down until they were in private. Hopefully.

*****

Albus Dumbledore looked over the latest reports from Aberforth. His brother in blood, if not by law. Not anymore. He didn't dwell on that, not now. Aberforth's friends had made some headway, identifying a recruiter for Voldemort, Finnegan Greenbrand. The wizard had recruited so many of the local thugs, a number of people apparently thought he was planning to take over parts of Knockturn Alley. Mundungus had told him of rumors to that effect. Albus didn't think Voldemort was planning that, but he might use the opportunity to sow a bit more chaos to hide his activities from the law, and keep more aurors busy. On the other hand, if some of the regulars in the alley felt threatened, they might fight Tom's minions, putting a dent into his new recruits. They'd also season the surviving ones, but that would happen anyway with how they had been striking at shops.

More worrying was the report about a murder of a muggleborn in his home. The DMLE thought it was a thief who had stolen from the wrong person, but Mundungus hadn't heard anything about someone hunting a thief down, and Albus's friend paid a lot of attention to such rumors, lest he ended up dead himself at the hands of a vengeful victim. The old wizard wondered if the killers had been aware of the real reasons for the murder, or if they too had been told that this was revenge against a thief. The latter would indicate that Tom still didn't feel secure enough to announce his real agenda to his new recruits.

The Headmaster shook his head. He couldn't tell what was true, not yet. Not without more information. And there was that foolish law proposal Arthur had heard of. Nothing official yet, fortunately. He'd have to squash that proposal before it became public knowledge, or it would anger a lot of magical beings, and drive some of them into the waiting arms of Voldemort.

At least there was good news as well. Miss Granger, who was also - justified, to a degree - unhappy with the way Wizarding Britain worked, had been quite uncomfortable with donating her blood so he could set the wards. She had done it anyway, of course, as he had known the determined young witch would do. But he had seen no signs of her being familiar with the act, or used to it. That was a good thing. Many practitioners of the Dark Arts started with self-sacrificing rituals, getting used to hurt themselves for power, before starting to sacrificing others. Muggleborns seldom went down that particular path, but Miss Granger certainly was talented and driven enough to delve into the Dark Arts, and she hadn't been raised in the magical World, and would not be aware of the true danger, of the allure of such magics. She wouldn't be the first witch or wizard to think she could master what had led so many others to their doom. Albus knew that only too well.

And her Patron, Harry, was certainly not well-suited to teach her the dangers of that magic, having been raised in ignorance of such limits himself. Not for the first time, Albus wished Lily had chosen someone else to raise her son than her sister. Someone magical. Sirius, having been raised by and then having rebelled against his family, might have taught Harry and Miss Granger since his exoneration. Might. Albus would have to talk to Remus, to subtly raise his concerns about the Dark Arts, to make certain Miss Granger and Harry himself knew what spells and arts to stay away from.

Harry, Miss Granger and Mister Weasley were progressing well with their lessons in Occlumency, which was a mixed blessing. It meant the secret of Harry's link to Voldemort, and the information gained through it, would be safe, and Harry would be protected from getting influenced by it, but at the same time, it would be hard to tell if the young couple was about to tread on paths one should avoid. It also raised the question whether or not Albus should tell Harry of the prophecy that had shaped his life so cruelly. Until now Albus had the excuse of not being able to risk that secret, but with Harry's mind protected against intrusions, that was no longer valid. Did he have the right to keep this from the young man? Harry had already been forced to grow up more than anyone of his peers, save Miss Granger. Shouldn't he be allowed to enjoy his last years at Hogwarts as carefree as possible? Ignorance was not always bliss.

At least the Movie Night had been an unqualified success, from what he had heard. The children were impressed and enamored of the movie. To see some of the best things muggle culture had to offer would do a lot to counter Tom's propaganda. It wasn't that much, but it was something.

*****

Pansy Parkinson felt torn between scorn and envy. Mostly envy though. Envy for the coup Potter had managed to land with his 'Movie Night', which was the topic every student was talking about, and almost every student wanted to attend next time, which had pushed Potter's popularity at Hogwarts to new heights. Envy for those who had been at the first 'Movie Night' - judging by the snippets of information Pansy had overheard from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, it had been a truly impressive experience. And envy for Susan Bones, who had managed to get quite close to Potter and his mudblood. If the gossip was correct she had even arranged for a ménage à trois already. And of course Pansy felt quite the envy for those students who would be attending the next 'Movie Night', since it didn't seem as if she would be able to. Not without alienating her own house.

And that was where the scorn she was feeling came from. Most of the Slytherins were outdoing each other in sneering at 'muggle imitations of wizard pictures' or at those students 'with such unrefined tastes as to enjoy such things' - which, she expected, would cover the other three quarters of the school. And that haughty attitude meant that any Slytherin who was actually curious about those 'movies', like herself, couldn't attend the next event without becoming a pariah in their own house. If it had just been Draco and his usual hanger-ons scorning this Pansy would have considered attending just to get a pretext to dump him earlier than planned, but as it was, she'd commit social suicide.

And yet… she was a Slytherin. There had to be a way to watch a movie with the blessing of her house. She had played Draco like a fiddle for years, after all, and if he was convinced, the rest of the house would fall in line - many of them had to be curious themselves, wanted to pursue Potter, or both. She just had to think of a way to sell it. By the time dessert appeared on the table - flaming cauldron cakes, honey brooms, and animated chocolate variations - she had found it.

Grabbing one of the honey brooms slowly flying around the table, she casually remarked to her nominal boyfriend: "I still can't believe no one noticed that the so-called 'muggle movie' has to be magic."

Draco interrupted his staring balefully at his nemesis - who didn't even notice, as far as Pansy could tell - and turned his attention to her. "What do you mean?"

Pansy bit the tip of the broom handle off, then let the honey drip onto her tongue. "Mh. I mean, muggle things do not work at Hogwarts. Everyone knows that. Granger claims she found a way to make it work, but that has to be a lie."

Draco was nodding. "Yes. She's but a mudblood."

"So, I assume once Ravenclaws who are not loony or friends of Potter see the movies, they'll easily spot the spells used for this deception, and will expose the whole lie."

Draco was nodding again, looking pensive. Pansy finished the broom handle, and chewed the soft bristles. She could see her so-called boyfriend's line of thoughts. He'd imagine Potter and the mudblood getting exposed as frauds. There was the smile on his face. And now the frown when he realized that someone else would expose Potter, would be the one to reap the fame.

"One cannot trust the Ravens to spot such underhanded trickery. They are mere academics, after all. No, to expose this sham one has to be cunning, like a Slytherin." Draco claimed, gazing at the Ravenclaw table.

"No Slytherins will lower themselves to watch Potter's latest folly." Pansy repeated Draco's earlier words.

"I will do it. Potter will not fool me." Draco declared, once again sneering at the Gryffindor table.

Pansy smiled adoringly at the fool. As the dutiful girlfriend, she'd of course attend with him. And if she was not mistaken, so would quite the number of other Slytherins. Greengrass among the first - the stupid witch would likely do anything to get close to Potter, not realizing that the path to Potter's bed led through his mudblood. And Granger wouldn't look kindly on Slytherins who had looked down on her for years.

Unless, of course, they were victims of Draco. Pansy smiled. If she pulled off the dumping of Draco correctly, Granger would see her as a victim, or a blood traitor, or both. Pansy might even pass muster as Potter's pureblood wife. Not that she wanted to marry Potter, of course. She was not about to give up her chances to become head of her family. But as the Patil sisters had demonstrated, Granger also was the best friend of Weasley. And he was a prize worth catching - pureblood, with a big and close and well-connected family, and quite rich thanks to the compensation for the basilisk corpse the Wizengamot had just granted. And with six siblings and not much of a family fortune, not too likely to even want to become the next head of the Weasley family. Pansy summoned a caldron cake into her hand and stole a glance over at Ron Weasley. She liked what she saw.

*****

"Those are the instructions. Don't blow yourself up - I'd rather not have to replace another cauldron and brew more potions for the Infirmary. Begin."

Ron Weasley thought that Potions had become both better and worse after Neville had reported Snape. Better in that Snape had been reined in by Dumbledore. The git's remarks were back to biting sarcasm dripping with derision, instead of cruel personal attacks like those aimed at Neville. But while he didn't say anything, his eyes were full of hatred and followed Ron and his friends, especially Harry, more often than not. In addition to that, Snape would scathingly criticize a student as soon as the slightest justification was found - and no one was spared from that. Potions was quickly becoming the single most hated subject in Hogwarts, even among Slytherins, in the weeks following Neville's - or rather, Hermione's - report.

As hard as it was to admit, seeing the snakes reduced to tears had quickly lost any novelty. Ron had thought for years he'd love to see the tables turned on the dungeon dwellers, but now that he had gotten his wish, it was not satisfying at all. He might even start to feel sympathy for them, due to that evil git of a teacher! Sympathy for Draco? Ron shuddered, almost messing up the next step for his potion. That would have been bad.

Snape hadn't seen it, fortunately, he was busy criticizing Parkinson's mise en place. The snake didn't look like she'd start crying though, unlike Greengrass earlier. Ron caught a glance of the witch, and quickly looked away. Malfoy's girlfriend staring at him like that gave him the creeps. Who knew what twisted thoughts went through the mind of a witch who loved Draco? He forced himself to focus on the brewing process again. He didn't want to receive a detention from Snape, followed by a lecture from Hermione. He had plans for the evening, plans involving his girlfriend. The money for the basilisk had finally been paid out, and Ron had spent a bit of it on a nice necklace in Hogsmeade, which he had then enchanted with Hermione's help. It wasn't on par with the robes of his best friend, but would protect Padma from hexes - he knew competition inside Ravenclaw could get nasty. And it'd show Padma that he was no slouch at enchanting either.

Thinking of her reaction to his gift almost made him mess up another step of his potion. This time, Snape noticed.

*****

Her mind was behind a wall. An impenetrable, indestructible wall. Nothing and no one could penetrate it. Any attack would be absorbed, its energy used to strengthen the wall. Like the Betan plasma shields that defeated the Barrayarans. Her mind was a behind a shield. A force shield. Impenetrable. Adapting to any threat, like Borgs.

Hermione felt sweat appear on her face, but grit her teeth. Her robe's enchantments would remove it in an instant. Her head had been hurting for minute now, but she ignored the pain. She would protect her mind. Her thoughts. She'd master occlumency.

Standing in front of her with his wand trained on her head was Sirius, visiting from Grimmauld Place to help out with their lessons. "Good, good, Hermione. You've been making progress. You don't broadcast your lewd thoughts as much as you did last week."

Hermione glared at him. He was trying to make her lose her concentration. He had done so before, in earlier lessons over the summer. She'd not fall for it again. Her mind was protected by an impenetrable shield.

"Oh, wow - that's kinky. Does Harry know you'd like him to do that to you?"

Her mind was behind a wall, fending off all attacks. Attacks made her shield stronger. She'd not falter under the assault. She'd prevail. Not even Harry's surprised yelp or Ron's snickering made her break her own concentration. Nor the pain in her head.

Sirius was sweating too. The older wizard was going all-out, Hermione realized. She could feel his probes growing stronger, hitting her wall, her shield, glancing off, trying to find a weakness - or creating one. She had to absorb them, neutralize them, redirect them.

With a snarl she pushed back, hitting Sirius's shields. And caught a glimpse of utter despair. Hopelessness, desperation, and so much pain... she recoiled, hearing someone whimper. Then realized it was herself.

Suddenly the pressure was gone, the wand lowered. Sirius was still staring at her though, and she met his gaze for an instant, before looking away.

"Hermione! Are you OK? Do we need to visit Pomfrey?" Harry was at her side. Probably had broken off his own exercise with Remus - Professor Lupin. Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply, squeezing his hand.

"I am alright. Just a bit exhausted." She smiled. "But I withstood him."

Sirius, who looked as exhausted as she felt, nodded. "That you did. You've mastered occlumency." He smiled, though his eyes still looked concerned. And ashamed.

"There's always room for improvement," their DADA teacher cut in, "but you've reached a level where you'll be able to fend off any intruder long enough to notice the attack, and defend yourself."

"That's what I said, just without so many words." Sirius protested.

"As long as Sirius will not be able to discover my lecherous thoughts I am happy." Hermione quipped, smirking at the reaction that got from Harry. Her Patron was staring at her for a moment, with his mouth open.

Sirius, of course, perked up "Aha! I knew it!" She stuck her tongue out at him in response, then conjured a seat to sit down in. She needed the rest.

Harry's godfather followed her example and summoned a bottle of water for himself. Muggle brand, Hermione noticed. The wizard had been drinking less alcoholic drinks lately, as far as she could tell. At least in their company. Who knew what he was drinking, and doing, with four veela in his home?

Ron was up against Professor Lupin now, with Harry taking a break as well. Their friend was doing well enough, or so it seemed. Much better than at the start of the term. Harry handed her a can of Diet Coke, sat down next to her and opened a regular one for himself while glaring at his godfather. Sirius didn't seem impressed, and simply grinned back.

Hermione drank half the can, then leaned into Harry. "I wonder… will you have another vision like the one you had, now that you've learned occlumency?" She hoped not; it had almost cost him his life.

"I don't know. I haven't had such a vision since that day. And until now, my occlumency has been mostly pants. Maybe it was a fluke." Harry rubbed his scar. They knew it was the link to Voldemort - the pain it caused him in their first and second years when he had met Voldemort's shades had shown that clear enough.

"The Headmaster seems to think you will have more visions." Hermione took his hand, holding it, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Dumbledore's not infallible, but he's right far more often than not." Sirius commented. He didn't say, but his tone indicated, that he hadn't forgotten that Dumbledore had been wrong about him. Terribly wrong.

"I just wish I knew what kind of curse created this scar. A Killing Curse, as most assume it was, doesn't leave a scar. So why would it have caused one? I think it was a backlash of whatever protection your mother had created for you." Hermione sighed. She hated not knowing something so important.

"I wish I knew. Lily's notes didn't survive that night, and she had kept things very close to her chest. I am not certain that even James knew all of what she had been doing." Sirius's gaze seemed to get lost in his memories. Hermione suspected that whatever Lily had done had been… questionable. Effective, but probably illegal too. She didn't voice that thought. Harry revered his mother, and Sirius sounded as if he had had a crush on the witch as well. Hermione liked to think Lily would approve of her, as a fellow true muggleborn, making her way in a pureblood society. And in love with a pureblood.

The young witch placed her hand on her boyfriend's cheek and pulled his face towards her so she could kiss him tenderly. Sirius made wolf-whistling noises, but she ignored him. Harry was hers. She'd do anything, illegal or not, to keep Harry safe. And she was dead certain that Lily would approve of that.

*****

Sirius Black was sitting in the kitchen in his home, staring at the cup of tea Kreacher had placed in front of him. He was up earlier than he had expected, especially after the night he had had. His French guests had settled in quite well, in his opinion. The house felt full again. He might even have to visit Remus at Hogwarts to have a bit of peace and quiet. Or get up as early as today. As lovely as his guests were, they could be rather loud, if tempers ran high. But that was to be expected from passionate witches.

And oh, they were passionate. And lovely. Sirius was the luckiest wizard in Britain, he was sure of it. Much luckier than Remus, of course. He sighed, then sipped his tea. His friend was not doing well. He could have milked his tragic history to impress the veela. Or played up his role as a teacher. Girls that age loved handsome teachers, even the overly serious ones like his friend. Laure had been clearly interested, and Eugénie probably as well. Instead Remus had talked about some muggle thing about werewolves and vampires, and moped.

Well, his loss was Sirius's gain. Sort of. He'd be a terrible host if he let his guests be neglected, after all. And, if he said so himself, he had risen to the occasion, as usual. He truly was the luckiest wizard in Britain. So, why was he not feeling like it?

"Good morning." A quiet greeting interrupted his thoughts. Valérie d'Aigle had gotten up as well. The veela was clad in a thin blue robe that barely reached her thighs and strained to cover her chest. Rather modest, compared to her cousins' usual morning attire. It suited her.

"Good morning." Sirius smiled at her, stood up up and pulled out a chair for his guest. Kreacher had already placed her favorite breakfast on the table. "I hope you slept well." he added, with a wink.

Valérie blushed, and nodded. Quite fetching, in Sirius's opinion. "Your cousins are still asleep I take it?"

"Yes. They rarely get up before noon, unless they 'ave to. Like yourself." She grinned while grabbing a croissant.

"Even a wizard such as myself needs his rest." Sirius answered.

"And yet you've been up this early. Despite a rather long and exhausting night." She lifted her cup of coffee - a French vice, as far as Sirius was concerned - and took a sip.

Truth to be told, Sirius had planned to take a nap after breakfast, as Padfoot. He slept better in his other form. A relic from Azkaban. Not that he'd tell the pretty witch that. "Exhausting, but very enjoyable. At least I like to think so."

"You're not wrong." The Veela finished her croissant, then her coffee. Peeling an orange with a quick spell, she waited for Kreacher to refill her cup. "Would you mind me asking a personal question?"

"You can ask anything of me!" Sirius grinned. "But some questions I cannot answer without violating the trust of a friend, or lover."

"Are you 'appy?"

"Who would not be happy, surrounded by you and your cousins?" Sirius smiled at his guest, and placed his hand on hers.

"Who indeed." Valérie smiled at him, but Sirius had the impression she didn't think he was happy. Her next comment confirmed his hunch. "Is it your nightmares?"

"I don't know." Sirius didn't know why he had said that. Azkaban was the answer everyone accepted. He would have nightmares about that hellhole for the rest of his life.

Valérie didn't say anything, just held his hand.

"I just feel like there's something I am missing. And I don't know what." Sirius said, after a minute.

The two remained like that for a while, their breakfast forgotten.

*****

Arthur Weasley smiled after he had finished reading the parchment Percy had brought to his office. "Oh, yes. That's the same style as in the copy of the proposal we have. Almost the same wording, actually. Where did you find this?"

His son smiled faintly. "It was buried in the archives of the Wizengamot. According to the information I got, this was a proposal that failed in the Wizengamot in 1970, after Greyback's first public rampage." He sighed. "I'd have found it quicker, but you told me to be very discreet, so I only searched when I had a legitimate reason to visit the archives."

"You did well, Percy. We know now that Dolores Umbridge is behind this insane proposal. That will make it easier to bury it before the press gets wind of it." Arthur smirked. "According to scuttlebutt the woman had an affair with Fudge 10 years ago, and our dear Minister's wife took offense. Fudge was so eager to disprove the rumors, he moved Umbridge from his own office to Broom Regulatory Control."

"That's a dead end job." Percy whistled. "And she was working closely with him before that?"

"About to become his new Undersecretary, actually, if the grapevine was correct. I heard she was so mad at Fudge and his wife, they had an extra auror team as security for a month."

"A witch scorned…" Percy trailed off. "Did she actually have an affair with Fudge, or did he destroy her career just to appease his wife?"

"I don't know. But once he hears that Umbridge is behind this, he'll see just how dangerous and disruptive the proposal is." Arthur smiled cynically. Fudge would see reason because he feared his wife more than he craved Malfoy's gold. Wizarding Britain truly had an outstanding Minister for Magic these days. He dreaded what would happen should another Dark Lord rise instead of the Death Eater remnants trying to cause trouble again. He pushed those dark thoughts away and grinned at his son. "You did well, Percy. I'll inform the Headmaster, and then let's celebrate with a pint or two. My treat."

*****

Lord Voldemort studied the small, brown house at the corner of the road. For the residence of Ebenezer Renquirt, the Ministry's foremost expert on dementors, it looked rather drab. Appearances were deceiving, though - with expansion charms, a mansion's worth of rooms could be hidden behind the facade of a tiny hut, after all. His own safe house had been enhanced like that by now.

The Dark Lord was more focused on finding out where the guards were hiding than architecture though. A wizard that was the key to Azkaban's feared guards was certain to have better security than just wards, even if they were decently strong. He didn't spot anyone suspicious though, and he had not detected any disillusionment spells or invisibility cloaks in the area. That meant they were likely inside. Macnair would be able to tell him, after his visit. The Executioner would be asking for more information about dementors, in his professional capacity. As a pretext, of course - but any obscure information about the weaknesses and capabilities of dementors could be very useful, should negotiations with the demons fail. Voldemort didn't expect that to be the case, but it was better to be prepared for that outcome..

He passed the house and ducked into a side alley before apparating away, despite being disillusioned himself. It wouldn't do to become careless now. Back in his safe house he sat down in his most comfortable chair. He knew he had to be cautious, even with his biggest enemy ignorant of his return, he knew he had to be patient, to avoid making mistakes that could doom his plans. He knew that once he broke his most faithful followers out of Azkaban, Dumbledore would be aware of his return.

And yet he wished he could right now free his most loyal Death Eaters, those who stood in defiance to the Ministry to the end, instead of leaving them imprisoned, suffering at the hands of inhuman creatures. If not for his mark they would have been broken, lost their minds and died there already. Even Bella, the strongest witch he knew.

Bella… how she had suffered, wasting away in a damp, cold cell, seeing her body, her beauty, decay, dying a bit more each day. And to think Wizarding Britain condemned him for his actions during the war!

He summoned a dark grimoire he had collected in his earlier travels. Once he had freed his followers, they'd need a lot of help to recover from their ordeal. Fortunately, this little gem contained rituals that would restore their strength, their health, and, in Bella's case, their youth. If possible he'd take the wizards and witches guarding the prisoners with him - having them be sacrificed in those rituals would be a fitting punishment for their crimes.

*****

"Remus looks like he's about to bite someone."

Hermione Granger mumbled "Professor Lupin" out of reflex in response to Harry's remark, even before she looked up at the Staff table in the Great Hall. Her boyfriend had been correct - the teacher looked so angry, the teachers sitting next to him seemed to hurry up their breakfast to get away without giving offense. And it wasn't even close to the full moon yet.

"What's up with him? Is he really that jealous of Viktor?" Ron's tone made it clear that he didn't believe in the notion that Professor Lupin was in love with Nymphadora. Hermione agreed with her friend - it seemed far-fetched. The teacher was far older than the young auror, and Sirius, who had proclaimed this, was not the most reliable source, with his love of pranks. In her opinion the reason for the wizard's ire was quite clear. As was the target.

"Look at the front page of the 'Daily Prophet'. A Ministry employee was fired for trying to rile up all magical beings in an attempt to cause trouble for the Minister after he had refused her advances." Harry pointed at the article in question, which showed a witch leaving the Ministry, escorted by two aurors.

Ron craned his neck. "Doesn't look that bad. Better than his wife I'd say." When Hermione glared at him he shrugged. "What? I am just saying, if he refused her, then it was because he knew she was not right in the head. Trying to cause a riot for getting scorned? That's crazy!"

"Judging by how angry Remus looks, riots might still happen." Harry commented. "He's not exactly a hothead, and if he's that furious…"

"Do you think that if Snape insults him now, Remus will hex him into a puddle?" Ron sounded hopeful, though the Potion Master was absent from the meal, as was often the case this year.

Hermione shook her head and renewed the privacy spell on their little corner. "I doubt it. And only werewolves who were outed would be likely to expose themselves by protesting or rioting."

"There's hags, vampires and goblins though. Merlin! If the Goblins revolt…" Ron read the article. "She was fired and fined. Maybe that'll be enough to placate the money-grubbing little fiends."

Hermione glared at him again. He was correct in that goblins openly admitted to crave gold, but there were less insulting ways to state that. "It's quite unlikely that this will lead to a rebellion. All the rebellions in the past started after tensions had been high for quite some time, and with more important issues at stake."

"Bill probably will have to dodge a few fireballs anyway. Fleur's got a temper, and she already hated that she was not considered a pureblood in Britain." Ron summoned a floating sausage and cut it into small pieces with a flick of his wand before it had reached his plate. "Do you think Sirius is in danger? He's got four veela in the house."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think they'd harm him. They seem quite fond of him."

"Unless of course some of them think he is leading them on." Hermione added.

"Sirius wouldn't do that!" Harry defended his godfather.

"They've been 'visiting' for weeks now, and do not seem to plan on returning to France anytime soon." Hermione noted.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. It looks pretty serious."

Hermione and Harry groaned at the pun, intentional or not, Ron just had made. They were far, far too familiar with it.

"As long as he's happy it's alright." Harry stated. "He deserves to be happy."

Hermione swallowed what she had been about to say about that particular arrangement. She changed the topic instead. "I've gotten the generator Sirius sent set up. Once we finish the seating arrangements, we are good to go with the next Movie Night." She glared slightly at Harry. "After Harry invited the whole school, we'll have to creatively use expansion charms to make sure everyone has a seat close enough to the screen." Figuring a way to achieve that had gotten her extra-credit in charms. Flitwick had been very impressed.

"Only a monster could have refused the eyes of those kids." Harry muttered in response to her look. "Besides, you'd love the idea to show the whole school what muggles can do, if we hadn't been tricked into it by your dorm mates."

Hermione huffed. "Them tricking you caused a lot of work for me."

"You like that sort of work." Harry was smiling at her, and patting her knee. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. She might like the challenge, but to have been outplayed by the gossip twins still smarted.

*****

Kenneth Fenbrick studied the corpse in front of him carefully. The witch, Vivian Jenkins, had been tortured to death. Violated in her own home. That was the third case in two months. He ran his wand over the body, trying to catalogue the different curses used. More than two dozen different ones. Most of them more exotic and more brutal than the ones used on Brian Smith, the first victim of what the brass deemed a Knockturn Alley power struggle between thieves.

Kenneth himself wasn't quite convinced that was the case. Sure, they had found stolen goods hidden in all three flats, but none of the victims had had prior convictions nor known ties to other criminals. It was not impossible that they had been very skilled thieves, evading the DMLE's attention until a competitor caught up with them, but something felt off there. He just couldn't put a finger on what was wrong with the case.

Bertha Limmington, his partner, was currently showing a rookie auror the ropes of analyzing a crime scene. The rookie was cute witch, he noticed, and she had not lost her breakfast upon seeing the corpse. Tougher than most new kids.

He stood up and walked over to them, smiling widely. "Hi there. I am Kenneth Fenbrick, Bertha's partner."

"Nymphadora Black-Tonks."

Kenneth recognized the name. No wonder she was not shaken up by the sight of a corpse, not after fighting in a small war in Bulgaria and seeing dozens of corpses. Probably killed a number herself. Almost a veteran. Almost but not quite. Aurors were more than hit-wizards. The auror smiled and gestured to the corpse. "Check it out, then give us your impression."

The rookie shot him a glance that showed she knew what he was doing, but she went and knelt down next to the body, and ran her wand over it. After a few minutes, she got up again. Kenneth had expected her to look at least a bit paler but she looked exactly the same as before.

"At least six different wands were used, and two dozen different curses, none of them fatal. Died due to internal bleeding and shock from having much of her skin burned off." Her voice wavered a bit - so she wasn't quite as numbed to such sights than the old guard who had lived through the last war. Good pokerface though.

Bertha took it from there and corrected the witch on a number of points, but Kenneth flashed her a smile. "Good work for your first time. Most vomit over the body." The answering smile was grateful, but not that grateful as to suggest there was a chance to get to know each other better.

Not a big deal - there were plenty of witches who were fond of Kenneth. Some even might know a bit more about what was going on in the Alleys these days.

*****

Draco Malfoy carefully kept his expression from showing anything but boredom, even though he was outraged at seeing barbaric muggle contraptions in Hogwarts and eager to expose Potter as a fraud. But he was a Malfoy, a born politician, and Malfoys did not announce their plans before their curses had hit their enemy in the back.

This so-called 'Movie-Night' was held in an old classroom, not in the Great Hall, as Draco had feared when it had been announced. To defile the Great Hall like that… As they got closer he noticed that Weasley served as a door guard - a fitting task for the lout. The redheaded blood traitor was glaring at Draco as soon as he spotted them, and even drew his wand. As if a Malfoy would lower himself to brawl like a mudblood in the hallways. As disgusting as it was, this was a social occasion, and Draco knew his manners.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Weasley stared at him, and at the other Slytherins behind Draco.

"We're here to 'watch a movie', isn't it obvious?" Draco raised his eyebrow in mock-surprise. Pansy nodded, a bit too eagerly and enthusiastic, in Draco's opinion, but he couldn't chide her in public.

"Make any trouble, and you'll get thrown out. We won't let you ruin the event for everyone." With that arrogant pronouncement, the blood traitor let them pass. Draco didn't like turning his back to any Weasley - their tempers were stronger than their manners, no self-control to speak of - but Vincent and Gregory would cover his back soon enough.

The interior of the classroom had been expanded with charms - a lot. Potter must have asked Dumbledore himself to help him fit so many students into the room. One side of the room had not been expanded though, so everyone ended up sitting quite close to the linen sheet Potter's mudblood had used to cover that wall. He didn't detect any spells on it so far, but they'd do that once the lights dimmed, so their tricks were harder to spot. He knew Potter's father and godfather had been infamous for their pranks and other attacks against Draco's house, and had seldom been caught, so Potter would be hard to catch as well. Blood would tell, after all.

Snacks and drinks started to float by the seats, and Draco grabbed a couple for himself, and for Pansy. He skipped the weird white things, but Pansy tried some of that 'popcorn'. His girlfriend really was losing her touch lately, to try such questionable food in public. He'd have to make sure no one would spread rumors about her having a fondness for muggle filth after that - it would damage his own reputation.

The former classroom was filling up quickly. Most of the students seemed to be present, or so Draco guessed. Among them were a surprisingly large number from his own house, his own year even. Greengrass was no surprise, everyone knew she hoped to marry Potter, and where she went, her friends would follow. But the others? Draco would have to find out why exactly some of them were here. Nott and Zabini, for example. Would either of them try to upstage Draco? They'd fail, of course, but they could hinder his own plans.

Potter standing up in front of the sheet - the 'screen', as he called it - interrupted Draco's thoughts. His rival was explaining what an 'animated movie' was - a crude copy of wizarding pictures, as Draco had known already - and how long it would take, and that the movie was fictional. Draco didn't really pay that much attention to the Gryffindor, he was trying to spot the magic Potter would be using. Then the lights dimmed, and the movie started.

90 minutes later, Draco realized he had been so distracted by this… display… that he had failed to note just what magical trickery was behind it. But the story of a lion cub reclaiming the birthright that had been stolen from him had just been too enthralling. If he didn't know better, and wasn't wearing his enchanted robes, he'd assume he had been the victim of a spell. It must have been a kind of magic though - everyone knew muggle technology didn't work at Hogwarts, and no one could do something like this without magic.

"Wasn't that great, Draco?" Pansy gushed. A bit earlier she had even cried. Cried over a muggle animal picture. Draco was taken aback, and even more so when he realized that even Vincent and Gregory had been affected in a similar way.

"I suppose it was not quite as awful as I had feared." Draco stated. "but I'll have to study the next 'movie' more carefully, to find out how they are doing this."

*****

"You wanted to talk to us, Headmaster?" Harry asked, after he, Hermione and Ron had sat down in Dumbledore's office.

"Yes, I did, Harry." Dumbledore sounded and looked quite serious - concerned. Harry exchanged a brief look with Hermione.

"Were there complaints about the Movie Night? We've shown 'The Lion King' again so no one would feel left out, and it's a good movie, so watching it twice shouldn't have been a problem for those who had already seen it."

"Its not about that, rest assured. It was a wonderful movie, by the way. I enjoyed it very much." Dumbledore smiled at the three teenagers. Harry didn't remember seeing the Headmaster among the spectators, but it would have been easy for him to slip inside undetected.

"Thank you, Sir. We hope "Star Wars" will have an equally good reception. He ignored the "Who's this 'we' you mean?" whisper from Hermione and smiled at the old wizard.

Dumbledore nodded, but sighed again. "I've called you here for something else though. Something of the utmost importance - and secrecy. It's only the fact that you have learned occlumency that allows me to divulge this secret to you without risking far too much."

"Sir, if it is so important, wouldn't it be better if you kept it to yourself?" Ron spoke earnestly.

Hermione, as expected, looked like she was about to disagree with Ron's opinion. Vehemently. Fortunately, Harry's girlfriend wouldn't make a scene in front of Dumbledore. Or not too much of a scene. Before she could voice her thoughts though Dumbledore answered Ron.

"It might be safer, and easier for everyone here if you were left in ignorance, but it wouldn't be right." Dumbledore stated, with conviction evident in his tone. "I am talking about the real reason for Voldemort's attack on you and your family, Harry."

Hermione and Ron gasped, and Harry held his breath. This was the first time he heard of this. All he had known so far was that Voldemort had attacked his parents because they had been fighting him, and very effectively.

"Before you were born, Harry, a prophecy was made, foretelling that a boy would be born with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. A spy overheard part of the prophecy and informed Voldemort. The Dark Lord decided to kill the two boys the prophecy fit - you and Neville Longbottom. That was why your parents went into hiding under the Fidelius, and why Voldemort attacked them and you, after Pettigrew had betrayed them."

Neither Harry nor his friends were saying anything. All three of them were listening, almost frozen in their seats. Hermione had gripped Harry's hand and was squeezing it in a silent attempt to support him. It didn't help that much.

"I know it must be a shock to you, and I had considered not telling you, but with Voldemort having returned, I do not think you would be happy if you were left in ignorance." Dumbledore slowly stood and turned to the door leading to his quarters. "I've prepared a memory in my pensieve, showing the full prophecy."

*****

Lord Voldemort, in his disguise as Finnegan Greenbrand, was not quite as familiar with the disreputable bar he was currently in as most of its regulars. However thanks to frequent visits he knew the faces of those regulars themselves quite well, and when they started to disappear and the scantily-clad waitresses and waiters started to take breaks en masse, he knew something was up. It didn't take a genius such as him much to see the differences between those wands for hire who were carousing, and those who just faked it. He didn't know if they were here for him or for someone else, but he would have to assume he was the target.

Dropping a few sickles on the table, he got up as well and started for the door. He hadn't even reached it before four wizards and a witch at another table pulled out money themselves. Amateurs. That they didn't start cursing in the bar itself, where apparition was not possible due to the wards, told him there was an ambush ahead. For an instant he considered simply continuing outside, and lay waste to whoever dared to waylay him. It had been too long since he had unleashed his might in battle, and annihilated his enemies. For too long had he been reduced to skulking around in shadows.

But he controlled himself. His vengeance would come, in due time. If he gave this bunch of thugs who dared attacking him the death they deserved, he'd have to eliminate all witnesses if he wanted to keep Greenbrand from becoming known as a very powerful wizard - and such an act would attract a lot of attention from the DMLE. So instead of opening the door, he sealed it and the windows with a flick of his wand, then turned around, his cruel smile briefly freezing the five cowards behind him. It was enough to let him turn to the table where a group of wizards he had previously hired and put on retainer were drinking. Their leader, a young man from an impoverished pureblood family, met his eyes and Voldemort noticed he had his wand out already. Promising indeed.

Pointing at the five ambushers, now standing in the middle of the room, and just realizing they had been caught, he stated "Double the standard rate, alive."

The fight that followed didn't take longer than a minute, not with Voldemort destroying the protections on the assailants' robes with a few silent spells while appearing to simply take cover.
Standing up and making a slight show of dusting himself off, he smiled, dropping gold on the table. "There's bound to be a few more ruffians outside, gentlemen, likely ready to storm inside. I do not need those alive, just taught a lesson."

Drunk on their success, the thugs rushed to the door almost faster than he could cancel his sealing spell. The first to rush out was the first to go down, but the smarter wands in the pub had used his unwitting sacrifice to spot the positions of the attackers and started to curse them from the windows. Voldemort used the time to tear down the anti-portkey wards on the place - the owner would blame the attackers - and then drop a portkey on the captives.

They disappeared at once and he noticed an older witch standing up from where she had taken cover behind the bar during the battle. Noticed, and recognized her. Not many witches wore robes that were designed to show such scars. It had to be Lucrecia Browtuckle, a veteran from the Grindelwald War. He met her eyes, then looked at the door, where a few wizards were starting to get ready for a sally. The witch laughed at his silent offer. "Lad, I do not take part in the brawls of boys and girls whose parents were not even born when I was earning my first scars in war." She filled a glass with the bar's finest whiskey and toasted him with a smirk before tossing the liquor back.

Voldemort bowed in response. Both he and Greenbrand could respect that.

Chapter 19: Yuletide

turbinicarpus · Jul 1, 2015

I don't have the time to give detailed feedback at the moment, but I thought the model for Occlumency wasn't a great one... This is, to a large part headcanon, but a "wall" metaphor is a very poor one, I think, and not consistent with canon, since Voldemort could, say, just order Snape to drop his wall. I prefer a "badminton" model, where the attacker sends stimuli in the form of thoughts, feelings, and images at the defender, trying to elicit an involuntary reaction, which could then be followed up to probe for useful information. Occlumency consists of learning to distinguish foreign stimuli from one's own thoughts, disassociating from the foreign ones so that they elicit no response, and, ultimately, learning to consciously control what one sends back to the point where, as far as the attacker is concerned, they are getting a genuine reaction.

This changes Legilimency and Occlumency from a static setup where one actor "pushes" and the other "holds" to a dynamic one, where the Legilimens continually tries new angles of attack --- which may or may not include banter, or even infliction of physical pin --- to cause the Occlumens to lose control of their reactions, while the Occlumens either tries to maintain control and send back nothing or tries to send back what they think the Legilimens wants to see.

Of course, that makes Occlumency training a highly unpleasant activity for both sides, since it involves, among other things, training the Occlumens to experience no emotion in response to things that they would normally find terrifying or disturbing, which, in turn, means that the friendly Legilimens must send said images at the Occlumens to desensitise them. Which, in turn, explains why so few people bother to master it.

Starfox5 · Jul 1, 2015

I do not think everyone defends their minds in the same way. Some might use misdirection, fake thoughts, present "lesser" secrets, some might counterattack, some - like this Hermione, who prizes her mind above all else, and will not tolerate intrusions - want a wall or force field. I've gone a bit into different methods in "Uncle Quentin's Spy", and Hermione uses another method there:

"Harry walls his mind off, protecting it with sheer willpower. He lashes out at any probes. Trying to penetrate his memories is like trying to scale a mountain while a hurricane batters at you. Being thrown out of his mind is quite a painful experience."

"Hermione uses a different method. Trying to read her thoughts is like navigating a labyrinth while collecting pieces of a puzzle that would result in a map. By the time one has collected them all, the labyrinth usually has changed."

"(Ron)'s the worst of them all. His mind has almost none of the defenses one expects, but it's almost impossible to find anything - you look for what he did last night, and end up watching his last Quidditch match. Or meal. It's like trying to navigate a ship through shallow waters - if you do not follow the channels you run aground, and the channels lead to the Quidditch pitch or the kitchen. Or to the common room, where he is chatting with his friends."

I didn't want to use the same methods in this story. Though I also have to point out that Snape's a special case and had years to perfect his method to work as a spy. The kids here do not need to be able to fool anyone into believing he is reading their real thoughts - all they need is a defense that will block a legilimens probe long enough for them to break off eye contact and/or curse the attacker.

Hermione might use different methods, once she has had a few more years to properly study the method - but this was a rushed job for the trio. Dumbledore wants them to be protected as soon as possible, and "well enough now" is better than "will be working better in a few years". And it has the additional bonus that this method will not be a "highly unpleasant activity".

Ack · Jul 1, 2015

Draco being pulled in by the magic of Disney ... d'awww.

Starfox5 · Jul 3, 2015

Chapter 19: Yuletide

After watching Trelawney sprout the Prophecy, Harry Potter pulled his head out of the pensieve and shook his head. He felt like jumping up and pacing. Or hitting something. Hermione ran her hand over his back in circles, and leaned into his side. It helped, a bit, and he took a deep breath.

"So that's how she sounds when she makes a prophecy." Hermione mused.

Dumbledore nodded at Harry's girlfriend. "Yes. I gather she is quite different when she teaches divination."

"She told us that divination gave vague results, hunches and hints, not predictions of the future." Hermione looked at the Headmaster, not quite stating her question outright. She had abandoned the course, Harry knew, the less than precise nature of the discipline not agreeing with her nature, but she remembered the lessons well, as one could expect her to.

"She made a prophecy, which is while somewhat similar, not part of divination. A prophecy is always true, although it may be somewhat ambiguous." Dumbledore explained.

"Somewhat. All it states is that Harry has the power to kill Voldemort." Hermione sounded calm, but Harry knew she was tense, agitated even, under that facade.

"And that he and Voldemort are destined to fight."

"Which was a given after Harry defeated him as a baby. No Dark Lord can let such a defeat stand." Hermione's arm around Harry's waist tightened, possessively. It felt good.

"Indeed, Miss Granger. As soon as Voldemort decided to attack the Potters, the prophecy had become true, in a certain way. If James and Lily had defeated Voldemort, they would have qualified as the power the Dark Lord knew not. If Harry had died it would have been impossible to prove or disprove that he could have defeated Voldemort. And now, with both alive, and Harry being famous as Voldemort's vanquisher, a new confrontation, direct or not, is all but inevitable." Dumbledore led them back to his office, past the still slightly disconcerting view of his magical quarters with a seemingly endless display of floating books and knick-knacks - or artifacts. "One might say he already started it, with his attacks during the tournament."

Harry had felt Hermione twitch and pull him even closer to her when Dumbledore had mentioned his possible death at the hands of Voldemort, just as he knew he had tensed when his parents' deaths had come up. He pulled the young witch into his lap when he sat down in front of the Headmaster's desk again. He still didn't know how he felt, how he should react to this revelation. To be fated to face the Dark Lord…

"Why would the prophecy still matter, if Voldemort will attack Harry anyway to avenge his first defeat?"

"He doesn't know the full prophecy. As long as he remains ignorant of the second part, he will wonder and worry about it." Dumbledore summoned a lemon drop from the bowl on his desk, then frowned at Fawkes, who seemed to act particularly innocent.

"So, it's merely bait, and a tool in psychological and information warfare then?" Hermione asked, in a way that told Harry she really wanted Dumbledore to say yes. He wanted the same - he could deal with Voldemort wanting to kill him. But to be the subject of a prophecy, a puppet of fate? That was something truly disturbing.

"I wish I could say yes, Miss Granger, but prophecies are more than that. Often not much more - but the Department of Mysteries collects them all, in the aptly named 'Hall of Prophecies', where they are waiting to be revealed to those they concern and address."

Harry closed his eyes. He was his own man, not a tool of whatever power was responsible for this prophecy. It was just a vague self-fulfilling proclamation anyway. He would decide his fate himself.

He opened his eyes. Hermione and Dumbledore hadn't said anything else, waiting for him to finally say something, react in any way, he realized. Neither seemed about to ask how he felt though, not here in any case. Hermione would of course, once it was just the two of them. "If he should not hear about the prophecy, wouldn't it be best to destroy the recordings of it?"

"I wish it was possible, Harry. The extracted memory of it is easily vanished - and retrieved from my mind, should we need it. But the recording in the Hall of Prophecies is protected. The hall was built with the goal to prevent people from suppressing a prophecy in an attempt to manipulate events." Dumbledore spread his hands. "Of course, by controlling who has access to the hall, one controls who knows of a prophecy. A fact certainly taken into due consideration when the Hall was built."

"Would it really be impossible to destroy the recording there?" Harry asked, his scepticism obvious to everyone.

"Not impossible, but the effort needed would be daunting. It would be more advisable to set a trap for anyone going after the recording there. Only those mentioned in the prophecy can access it, so Voldemort would have to visit the department in person."

Hermione opened her mouth, but Dumbledore held up one hand to stop her. "The Department of Mysteries is well protected against the means he can use to disguise himself. Even better than Gringotts, Miss Granger."

Harry's retainer wasn't about to concede the point so easily though. "He found ways around the security of the tournament too."

"Indeed, he did. But we've learned our lessons as well, and I will take more strident measures to improve the security of the Hall of Prophecies."

"Will you be working with the Unspeakables?" Hermione couldn't keep the fascination from her question. Harry knew she had been intrigued by the rumors of what exactly that Department did, and what its halls contained. It was no surprise, given her great love of knowledge.

"Of course." From the small smile playing over the Headmaster's face, he too knew of Hermione's desires.

The young witch merely nodded, not asking further. Harry could feel her squirming though, and tense up - the thought of so much knowledge hidden away in an attempt to control it, if one trusted the rumors, made her mad.

"Thank you for trusting us with this, Headmaster. I will need some time to come to terms with what you have revealed." Harry stated, gently pushing Hermione off his lap. The witch slid off at once, no doubt as eager as he was to discuss the topic in private.

"Of course, Harry. I am sorry to heap this burden on you, but I felt you deserved to know."

"You are right, Headmaster." Harry bowed slightly, then left the office with Hermione in tow.

*****

As soon as the two had reached 'their room', Hermione sealed the door and cast a series of privacy spells while Harry summoned two cans of cola. The young witch was more shaken by the revelation of the Prophecy than she had let on, or hoped she had let on. To think that there might be something like fate, destiny, or even worse, a timeline that could not be changed… the implications were horrifying. She grabbed her can as it floated over, and sat down next to Harry.

"How do you feel about this?" Harry asked right before she could ask him and opened his own can.

"I don't know," she answered, truthfully. "I can't really imagine that you can predict the future like this. Or rather, I do not want to imagine that."

Harry didn't look surprised by her words. "I know. It's one thing to fight the fucker, it's another to be fated to."

"Yes. If there is such a thing as destiny, or a timeline set in stone, what is with free will?" Why bother to struggle, to learn, if you're just following the rails laid down by time? Hermione didn't want to, but couldn't help ask herself that.

"What would the Doctor say?" Harry asked. He looked calm, but after four years with him, hermione could spot the signs betraying his emotions.

"The pattern can be changed." It was just a tv series, although a good one.

"That's not what the Greeks thought about prophecies." It figured that he remembered that part.

"Most of their prophecies were very vague. Like ours." She looked at him, daring him to claim this was not their, but his burden to bear. He didn't.

"I'd say 'neither can live while the other survives' is not that vague." Harry finished his can and crumpled it, then threw it up in the air. He had drawn his wand and vanished it before it reached the ground.

"It's rather vague, open to many interpretations. What does 'living' and 'surviving' mean in this context?" Hermione shrugged. "As the Headmaster said, it could already have been fulfilled. And he said that prophecies are often not much more than words given context by others."

"He didn't say that."

"It's what he meant." Hermione finished her own drink. She would pay for it later, with troubles falling asleep, but then - after today's events, she'd have trouble sleeping anyway. At least they'd have a patrol, which would tire her out a bit.

"I think he hinted at it being a bit more than just a self-fulfilling prophecy." Harry wasn't giving up. Just like herself, Hermione knew, he couldn't let go of a problem and accept the comforting semi-truth, or straight lie.

"Maybe a prophecy is just a form of divination, the result of some insight into the subjects of the prophecy. Trelawney subconsciously realized that Voldemort would attack any such threat, and therefore it would be coming true." She was reaching, Hermione knew, but she wanted an explanation that would not tear at her worldview of humans being self-determined.

"That means someone is able to see into our minds, no matter our occlumency."

"Someone, or something." Magic, Hermione thought, but didn't say it.

"I could live with Magic being able to read minds and souls, and forming prophecies from such insight." Harry reached out to her, and Hermione slid into his lap, leaning against him. His idea didn't feel right, or not completely correct, but maybe this time, she and Harry would settle for the comforting half-truth or hypothesis.

After a while spent simply being there for each other, Harry's watch started ringing softly. "It's time for the patrol," he stated with a wry smile.

Hermione sighed, but got up. While her robe straightened itself, she ran a cleaning spell over the room, watching as dust was gathered in a small ball, which she then vanished.

"Parvati asked in the latest prefect meeting if 'non-prefects' are allowed to come along on patrols." Harry said a bit too casually.

Hermione grinned. If the stupid witch thought she could spend hours alone with Harry, trying her charms-enhanced wiles on him, just because she was a prefect, then she had to think again. "I checked the rules. It's all covered."

"That's what I said, and what the head boy and girl agreed with." Harry started towards the door.

"I bet she sulked for the entire meeting." Hermione looked around a last time, to make sure her spell had not missed anything, then joined him.

"You know her. Better than I do." Harry let her open the door as her Patron.

"Yes." And Hermione's presence, walking a step behind the two, behind Parvati, on those patrols would make sure that would not change. Just like she liked it.

*****

Voldemort withdrew his mental probes and let the wizard he had been holding up with a levitation spell drop to the ground. A silencing spell cut off the man's whimpering. The Dark Lord had wrecked his captive's mind, as he had done with the minds of the others who had tried to ambush him, but he had gained the information he had sought. The man behind this attack was not Dumbledore, but Darrin Stanson, a low-life delusional enough to think he was the ruler of Knockturn Alley.

Voldemort looked at the drooling, trembling remains of his captives, all laid out on the floor in the cellar of his safehouse. If those were the best Stanson could muster, then he was not even an annoyance, but a mere nuisance. And yet such a slight had to be answered. No one could attack the Dark Lord and get away with it!

He drew his wand and ended the lives of his captives with five quick killing curses, then vanished the corpses before returning to his study. Dealing with Stanson would be another fine test for his hopefuls, and would cement the DMLE's impression that this was just a struggle between criminals. With a bit of planning it would appear that at least a few of Stanson's men escaped, which would make it possible to keep the gang war cover up a bit longer. And it would serve to weed out the kind of weak fools like the ones he had just disposed of from his own forces. Or at least identify them, so he'd not trust them with anything important.

If only he had more of the experienced mercenaries at his disposal. Like Lucrecia Browtuckle. But witches and wizards like her were cunning, and wouldn't join at the rates Greenbrand could offer, at least not the rates he could offer without tipping people off that he was more than a criminal with some ambitions. But once the war was about to begin in earnest… he'd have to look Browtuckle, and others like her, up. If they would not hire on with him, then he'd have to make sure they'd not join his enemies.

But that was a matter for another day. He had a more pressing, more important task to achieve. Macnair would have met Renquirt. The executioner had been tasked with finding found out all of the protections of the home of the Ministry expert on dementors.

Smiling cruelly, the Dark Lord settled down to wait for Macnair to contact him. He'd not tolerate failure.

*****

"My friend identified the wizard who has been hiring wands as Finnegan Greenbrand. He apparently tries to downplay his skills, but he was observed sealing a tavern off while casting silently. He's a powerful wizard."

Meeting Aberforth in Albus's own office was less aggravating than in the Hog's Head, the Headmaster thought. Less costly too. It was not less painful though. With some people, Albus would have loved if they stuck to the topic of a meeting. With his brother, the complete absence of any small talk hurt. "Thank you. Do you know who tried to kill him?"

"Those fools were hired by Darrin Stanson, the owner of the 'Dancing Mermaid'. A brothel."

Albus summoned a lemon drop for himself. There were fewer left than there should be. He knew Aberforth would not take anything from him, so Fawkes must had gotten around the spells on his bowl again. Sometimes the phoenix's ability to travel through all sorts of wards and spells was not as much of a boon as it seemed to. "Was Greenbrand moving against Stanson?"

Aberforth shook his head. "Not to my friends' knowledge. But he'll be paying him back for the attack. He's that kind of wizard."

"Like…"

"Yes."

He could test that, Albus knew. If it was not Tom, he'd be easy to handle. And if it was, he might still get surprised. On the other hand, the Dark Lord would be expecting another attack, and if Dumbledore was involved, Tom would know he was compromised. And if Dumbledore was not involved, it would just lead to a lot of good wizards and witches dying.

Aberforth interrupted his thoughts. "Will you set Stanson and Greenbrand up so they decimate each other's forces?" His casual tone hid the accusation Albus knew was levelled against him well.

The Headmaster didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I would suggest your friends should not get involved in that particular conflict." With a bit of help, the conflict could bleed both Voldemort's forces and the kind of thugs that made Knockturn Alley such a desolate place to live in.

His brother scoffed. "You never change, do you?"

"Stubbornness runs in the family." Albus responded with a mild voice.

The old wizard flinched. Barely, but he did. "Anything else my friends should not get involved with?"

"Dolores Umbridge."

"No chance of that. My friends do not rub shoulders with that kind of scum. They have standards."

Albus didn't know if Aberforth meant the Ministry, or the kind of bigots Umbridge was now seeking out. He didn't ask, just nodded as his brother stood up. "Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for those who will suffer if another of your schemes goes wrong."

With that parting shot, the old innkeeper threw the floo powder into the fire, mumbled "Hog's Head", and left.

Albus stared at the fire until it returned to its natural color. He felt more alone than ever, despite Fawkes rubbing his head against the Headmaster's cheek and trilling softly in his ear.

*****

Nymphadora Black-Tonks, wearing the face and body of a courtesan who was currently enjoying a very spontaneous vacation in the Mediterranean with one of her gentlemen, passed through the lounge of 'The Nightingale'. The club near Diagon Alley catered to the rich and prided itself on its discretion. Even a pariah like Dolores Umbridge would not be refused entry there - and according to rumors, she had been seen there. Rumors, of course, that came from a source very unwilling to risk their membership in said club to confirm them, so it had fallen to the young metamorphmagus to investigate.

Nymphadora had expected those kind of assignments when she applied as an auror. The DMLE was not in the habit to waste someone with her talents on assignments anyone with a wand could do. But the political aspects of her task - she had been made to understand that she was to find a reason to arrest the witch so the magical beings her proposal had riled up could be placated - didn't sit well with her. Even though Umbridge really deserved it, for what she had caused.

Not that Nymphadora thought Umbridge would actually be found in the club. The former Ministry employee was a shrewd and connected witch, and despite some rumors, wouldn't have been reduced to join the courtesans working in the club. Nor would she, as Nymphadora's superior had speculated, be trying to use that as a cover to approach others she had leverage over. There were better ways to conduct blackmail. Nymphadora had said so to her superior, but she had been told that the minister had taken a personal interest in 'the case', and so any lead had to be looked into, no matter how implausible. At least no one would blame her when it didn't pan out.

Nymphadora smiled at an older wizard who invited her at his table, stated that she was waiting for a gentleman, and took a seat at the bar. In a few hours an apology from the client would arrive, with the appropriate compensation. The setup meant she would be able to spend the evening in the lounge without getting bothered too much or coming under suspicion. It might even be interesting.

The metamorphmagus was quite surprised when she did spot Umbridge enter the lounge a few hours later and head to the bar. Even more so when the disgraced but at least physically attractive witch took care to greet Trevor Fickleton on the way. The esteemed member of the Wizengamot returned her greeting, and Nymphadora wondered if he was just being polite, or under some form of pressure - according to rumors, Umbridge knew a lot of secrets others did not want to be revealed. Of course, she could just be getting back at a former ally, and trying to taint his reputation by her presence.

Privacy charms prevented her from listening in to the brief conversation. Not even her enchanted earring could penetrate them. But at least she had gotten another lead.

*****

Voldemort almost felt nostalgic, standing in the bookstore in the poorer part of Diagon Alley. He had found a number of truly rare tomes here, back when he had just graduated Hogwarts and had started his rise to power. The store lacked the selection of illegal works the stores in Knockturn Alley offered under the table, but a discerning wizard could still find exotic tomes here that the Ministry would ban in a heartbeat, were it aware of them. Like this translation of an Ottoman book on the Nizari Ismailis, the mysterious magical assassins, which he was skimming through through while waiting for Renquirt to arrive. Just another customer browsing around.

Sadly, Macnair had reported that the protections Renquirt had at his home were just a bit too good. Not good enough to stop Voldemort, of course. But good enough to make it very plausible that such an intrusion would be discovered. Fortunately, as the Dark Lord had found out, Renquirt was a connoisseur of rare books and knew this gem of a store. And he knew that walking in with an auror security detail would not be conductive to be allowed back inside, much less get informed of newly arrived books of interest - the owner was very opinionated about censorship. Not opinionated enough to move to Knockturn Alley though.

That wouldn't mean the Ministry expert would be without guards. Just that they would not follow too closely, or too openly. Which wouldn't prevent what Voldemort had planned.

The door chimed, and there was Renquirt. The older wizard went straight to the sales clerk. Voldemort was close enough to listen in without any magical help.

"Hello. I was informed that you have acquired an original edition of Des Moines' 'Of Spirits and Demons'". Renquirt was displaying the lack of social graces so common to the more inverted Ravenclaws. Voldemort almost shook his head. Some things seemed to never change.

The clerk winced - with good cause. The Dark Lord had purchased that book earlier. Re-purchased, actually. After all, he had arranged for its sale to the shop through a straw man in the first place. It wasn't as if Lucius had ever read the book. A minor charm had then made sure that contrary to his instructions, the clerk would not hold the book for Renquirt.

"I am sorry, sir, but the tome was already sold." The clerk cringed even. Weak. Probably a mudblood. Easy to manipulate - it had not taken much to find out about Renquirt's arrangement with the shop either.

"What?" Renquirt gaped at the wizard. "I had ordered to hold that tome for me!"

"Oh." Voldemort cut in. "I'm terribly sorry. I've purchased it, but I wasn't told it was reserved." He smiled, as if he was embarrassed about the whole mix-up. Renquirt turned towards him and Voldemort bowed before the expert could say anything. "Martin Steinmaur, at your service."

"Ebenezer Renquirt. I had ordered that book, but this imbecile forget to put it aside!" The older wizard glared at the mudblood. "Would you part with it? I have been looking for that book for years."

Voldemort smiled - he hadn't known that, just that the book was on the long list the wizard had deposited at the shop. That would facilitate his plan. "Well, I would, but I am working on a treatise on such demons - we lack them on the continent, you know - and I believe this book might help me gain a perspective on them that is not yet covered by the standard literature available here." It wouldn't - he had perused it quite diligently, and had not found anything that he hadn't known before. With a bit of fake hesitation, he went on. "But I could loan it to you, if you only need to read it once."

The way Renquirt's eyes lit up, he understood that this was an offer to let him break the spells on the tome that prevented its duplication. It was quite illegal, of course - if everyone did that, no publisher could stay in business and there would be no more new books released. Or so the publishers claimed, and they had convinced the Wizengamot of that. And yet, at least in Voldemort's time, House Ravenclaw had held regular lessons in how to break such charms - and restore them afterwards, to cover up. The clerk understood the offer as well, but he was hardly in a place to protest, not after his apparent blunder.

"What a coincidence. I am the foremost experts of dementors. If you would like, I could check your work." Renquirt smiled, although rather patronizingly.

Voldemort eagerly nodded. He was showing his real, new face, which was a bit of a risk, but he didn't plan on doing anything illegal, and a potion had provided him with a long beard. Together with a haircolor charm and thick glasses, it should provide enough of a disguise. No one would expect the Dark Lord to be a wizard in his 20s anyway. His voice sounded eager and overjoyed as he answered. "You are? I mean, that is a very generous offer!"

A few minutes later Voldemort left the shop with an invitation to visit Renquirt. The name he had used belonged to a graduate of Durmstrang, who had turned mercenary recently enough so it wouldn't be in his records, and so would pass the check the security detail of his future host would run. And the slightly illegal offer he had made would ensure that no auror would witness their discussion. Afterwards he would easily disappear, to hide any trace.

The Dark Lord smiled, wandering through the streets as if he truly was a visitor from the continent taking in the sights. Like so many other academics Voldemort had known, Renquirt had looked quite eager to show off his superior knowledge to a fellow scholar. Who knew - maybe he wouldn't even have to imperius the man to find out what he needed to free his followers.

*****

Sirius Black wished that this Umbridge was visiting his house, just so he could strangle her with her own entrails and claim self-defense. That stupid, thrice-cursed witch and her damned bigotry had almost driven his lovely guests back to France. He shivered, remembering the morning - or rather, noon - of the day the Daily Prophet had broken the story behind her proposed reclassification law.

Valérie, who had become less shy with each day as his guest, had stolen the newspaper before he had had the chance to read it, and had been browsing the society pages when she suddenly had started to curse in French, in a voice that went from melodious to furious to screeching. Then she had sprouted feathers and transformed. Sirius had been so captivated by the magnificent sight of a veela in her avian form - a truly magical moment - he had not realized the danger he was in, until the veela had dropped the newspaper and fireballs had appeared in her hands - talons. He had understood, in that moment, why James had so often been staring, enthralled, instead of running when a prank of theirs had enraged Lily and she had come for them. Valérie's eyes had been literally blazing.

It had only been when Chantal, Eugénie and Laure had read the article as well, and had started to grow angry, that Sirius had realized just how dangerous four transformed, enraged veela could be. The newspaper had turned to ashes in Chantal's hands in seconds. Then the chair Laure had been gripping had started to burn, and smoke had started to rise from where Eugénie's new talons had dug into the table. For a moment, Sirius had thought of casting a flame-freezing charm, or a dozen, but then he had realized that discretion was the better part of valor in this situation, and had conducted a hasty retreat, just ahead of Kreacher.

The sight of Valérie's thin robe, aflame, right before the house elf had slammed the door close, had stayed with him though, and signed eyebrows and robes had been a small price to pay for such an experience. At least in his opinion. Remus, ever the too-serious, had called him crazy.

Well, that was Remus, the worrywart. As far as Sirius as concerned, the whole event had turned out well enough. The four girls had been apologetic about the loss of control, the house had gotten a new kitchen, the fire prevention charms had gotten an upgrade, and Kreacher would not even dream anymore of being rude to his guests. It still had taken quite an effort to keep his guests from returning to France at once. It had been understandable, after such an insult to their race.

Sirius sighed. They would eventually return to France, to their family, their lives. He was sure they'd remember their visit fondly, as he'd remember them. But they'd not stay. Not even Valérie.

Valérie. The shy one, or so he had thought. Until that morning. Noon. Whatever. All that passion, all that magnificent fire floating around her, consuming her robe, outlining her curves… a dangerous, beautiful, passionate woman. And yet he'd miss the talks with her the most, once she'd return to France.

He was tempted to follow her, them, when they went back, but he was needed here. Harry needed him, more than ever, with the prophecy hanging over his head. Sirius had failed his godson once, he'd not fail him again.

Sighing, he tried to focus on the latest report from Gringotts, if only to withstand the temptation to turn into Padfoot for the day.

*****

"Wards have been reinforced. Someone's moving around inside, too - even though it's late."

"The target's home then." Keith Yennington nodded to Blasius Meister. "You and Hannah start on the wards on the house. The rest of us will be ready for reinforcements. Brendan and Hortensius will cover the backyard, me and Wulfred will be covering Blasius and Hannah as well as the front side's most likely apparition point. If anyone tries to flee, stun them, Kill them before they can escape however. If anyone apparates, hit them before they know you're there."

"The mudbloods won't know what hit them." Blasius stated, grinning widely. The rest of the group chuckled.

"Don't underestimate them. They'll have support from their patron too." Keith cautioned his group. He didn't want to lose another wand to overconfidence and arrogance.

"Their patron should have taught them not to put on airs." Wulfred muttered.

Keith silently agreed with the thug. The house they were assaulting was a spacious one, far nicer than the house Keith had grown up in - and Keith was a pureblood. He didn't share the rest of the group's hatred of mudbloods, but they should know their place, and not try to lord it over purebloods. "Go now!"

His group split up, as ordered. No backtalk - a few muttered grumblings didn't count. They still had a way to go, but they were closer to what Keith would consider acceptable wands for hire. He'd not face Ottoman raiders with them at his side, or French border patrols, but mudblood rabble and their negligent masters they could handle.

"Apparition and floo are blocked. Disillusion as well. Working on the wards now." Hannah reported after several minutes.

Keith could spot an owl leaving the house. He didn't care. By the time it reached the recipient of the message, things would be over. He ran a hand over his enspelled pouch, where he carried the stolen loot he was to place in the house once they were done. It was possible that their employer could have decided it was easier to frame competitors, but Keith had stopped believing this was about thieves a while ago. He didn't care - the gold was good, and that was all that counted for him.

A few minutes later the wards were down. "Smash the windows and set fire to the house. We'll smoke them out." That set his group complaining again - there would be less loot - but he shut them up with a glare. They had learned not to cross him.

Soon the living room he could see from his spot was burning brightly. Keith would have sealed the house if the goal was just to kill the targets, but their employer wanted prisoners. And Keith wanted to get his group some more practise in actual combat. Merlin knew they still needed it.

So he crouched down and had his wand ready. If the targets were smart, they'd fake a sally to the front, then flee to out the back. If they were ruthless or desperate, one or more would be sacrificed to let the others escape.

The front door was pushed open, and a figure appeared, casting wildly while running towards the wardline - and towards them. A sacrifice it was then. In the flickering light of the burning house, Keith saw it was a witch. It didn't matter. "Keep the back covered!" he shouted, then sent a bludgeoning curse at the witch. Her shield protected her, but she staggered. Wulfred hit her with a piercer, which her shield stopped as well. She was good - for a mudblood. Maybe even a hired guard. Keith turned the floor around her into a swamp - transfiguration had been his best subject - and saw her slip and fall.

Slowed down and almost stuck in the mud, she couldn't dodge and her shield didn't last too long against the barrage of curses from Keith and Wulfred. Neither did her robe's protections. Wulfred disarmed her, cackling loudly. Before he could reach her though Keith had stunned her and transfigured her into a small figurine.

"Hey!" The other wizard turned towards him, snarling. He didn't raise his wand though. He knew better than that. Everyone knew after Keith had dealt with Warrington.

Keith glared at the wizard. "This is not the time or place for that. Spend some of the gold for this in the brothels." He didn't know why his employer wanted the witch - and others - kidnapped, but he wasn't about to let some rapist jeopardize the mission.

For a second Wulfred held his gaze and Keith got ready to curse the thug, then the other looked away. "Alright boss."

Keith nodded, but didn't turn his back on the man while he stepped up to the burning house. He pulled the loot out, still in a bag, and threw it inside. The aurors would think the witch had tried to flee with it, then had been forced to drop the bag in her attempt to escape.

A small explosion shook the house slightly and the heat increased. The mudblood must have had a potions lab set up somewhere inside. Keith fell back. "We're done here! Meet up at the rally spot!" he shouted, with the aid of a Sonorous.

Hopefully everyone would remember where that was, this time.

*****

"What a mess." Kenneth Fenbrick sighed, looking the still smoldering remains of the house over.

"Four different signatures on the fire hexes. Three on the collateral damage in the garden - one of them the signature of the missing owner of the house." Bertha Limmington stated.

"They're getting more organized then. No ganging up on the obvious target." Kenneth didn't like it when criminals grew smart. It made his job more difficult - and more dangerous. "What about the rest of the family?"

"According to her Patron, the children had been living in his mansion for the last week. Her husband is in St. Mungo's - spell mishap." Bertha said while examining the floor of the house.

"Lucky guy." Kenneth ignored the glare Bertha sent to him and looked at the hole in the floor. "Lab explosion?"

"Yes." His partner was looking at a heap of molten and burned things on the ground.

"Do you think they were brewing illegal potions?" Kenneth knew better than to head into the remains of a lab. No one knew what kind of poison might have been left - or created - there.

"Impossible to say without a more thorough investigation." Bertha picked up a golden cup that looked undamaged.

"What did you find?"

"A golden cup. Old and well-crafted." Bertha levitated it in front of her to check it from all angles.

"Family heirloom?" Kenneth joked - it was far too old for a muggleborn family. It was more likely a gift from the family's patron.

"The family coat on it doesn't match the victim's patron." Bertha answered, using her wand to brush more soot away from the cup.

"Stolen loot?"

"I am rather sure it was stolen."

"The question is, by whom?" Kenneth smiled at the glare his partner shot him. Both of them knew that this was not the work of thieves settling accounts with competitors. If there truly had been a hitherto unknown underground network of muggleborn thieves leading law-abiding lives as a cover, as the press and some Wizengamot members claimed, then the aurors would have heard of it. If not before the murders started, then soon afterwards, when the surviving members would have come to them for protection. No, those muggleborns getting murdered were not thieves - but why would anyone want them to appear as thieves?

Kenneth didn't like the possible answers he could think of.

*****

Remus Lupin wasn't in a good mood, despite the upcoming Yuletide. Or maybe because of it. Krum was visiting again thanks to the lack of Quidditch matches during the holidays. Shouldn't professional players train even during a break?

Remus stared at the essay he was supposed to be grading and dropped it on his desk. To be jealous of a kid was embarrassing. Even if said kid was an international Quidditch star and had been the Champion of Durmstrang for the latest Triwizard Tournament. And was not suffering from a curse that made a sizeable part of Britain consider them a beast. If he ever got his hands on Umbridge, he'd show her just how dangerous a werewolf could be…

The teacher stood up and began pacing in his office. The full moon was approaching. A few more days, and he'd feel his bones ache, his appetite change, and his mood grow more aggressive. And then would come the night of the full moon. The time when he would become a beast. Remus shuddered, then clenched his teeth together. He wouldn't be a mindless beast. Not as he had been before the Wolfsbane potion had been invented. But his mind would still change. Far more emotional, far more prone to act impulsively, instinctively. Too much like a beast.

He had never talked with anyone about it. He had come close to with Sirius, one night, with both of them deep into their cups. But he had controlled himself. It was too private. Sirius was an animagus and an impulsive wizard. He wouldn't understand how terrible it was for Remus to lose control, to change so much, each moon.

When he changed, things got too simple, too easy. He had no friends anymore, just family or acquaintances. People he wanted to defend, like Nymphadora, and people he didn't care about. And people he wanted to rip to shreds. No matter how wrong such an action would be. Like Umbridge. Or Krum.

It was quite fortunate indeed that the full moon didn't fall into Yuletide this year. Remus had no illusions about his chances with Nymphadora. He was old enough to be her father - well, almost old enough; he had not been as much of an 'early bloomer' as Sirius had been -, he suffered from the worst curse possible and his salary was not a tenth of what Krum was earning. Remus knew all that. He could even accept it, given time. But if he came to blows with the Bulgarian interloper, and it would be blows, not hexes…

He wasn't sure what he'd fear more: Nymphadora despising him as a beast, or pitying him as a delusional old fool.

And of course there was the fact that being more emotional, more prone to act instinctively, was not a good state to be in when in the company of veela who seemed bent on enjoying their own version of the Year of Discovery while they were in Britain. Nymphadora thinking he was a dirty old man, chasing girls half his age, and only pursuing her so he could sleep with a metamorphmagus, was another thing he didn't want to happen.

He summoned his bottle of fire whiskey, a gift from Sirius for the term. It was almost empty now, just as his friend had predicted. Maybe he'd manage to straighten himself out if Krum married Nymphadora. Thinking about that made him draw himself a double shot.

Although if Krum was really planning to marry into the family, then it was high time that he was introduced to the family tradition of pranking. Remus would have to drag Sirius away from his veela girlfriends for a bit, to properly prepare a fitting prank, of course. It was certainly better than the mutt again trying to set him up with his old girlfriends. Remus hadn't much, but he had his pride.

*****

Harry watched the snow-covered Scottish countryside through the window of the Hogwarts Express. Yuletide! Harry had been looking forward to the occasion for quite some time now. It would be his third Yuletide at No 12, Grimmauld Place, and with a larger crowd than the two times before. Sirius, Hermione, Remus, the Black-Tonks family, Viktor and the four veela who seemed to have moved in permanently with Sirius. Harry wasn't sure what to think of that, actually. He had met the girls in France, but he didn't know them. Or remember them well. There had been too many pretty blonde witches around then. And now they had spent more time in his home than Harry himself. Sometimes he wished Hogwarts was not a boarding school. He'd be able to spend more time with Sirius then.

"Thinking about your four godmothers?" Hermione asked, with a slightly teasing smile.

On the other hand, he'd be spending far less time with Hermione if Hogwarts was a day school. He shook his head. "No." When he noticed her doubting expression, he added: "Well, partially. It's just… they have spent more time with Sirius than I, than we have."

"And what a time it must have been!" Ron cut in, grinning. Harry glared at him - while he wished Sirius all the happiness his godfather deserved, he didn't need to think of how exactly that was currently being achieved.

Hermione huffed at their friend. "If Padma were here, you'd pay for that remark."

"But she isn't. And what she doesn't know won't hurt me." Ron answered, unrepentant. "Four veela, Fleur's cousins!" he shook his head in apparent admiration.

"Speaking of, how is Fleur?" Harry asked. Last he had heard, the proud veela had been incensed - literally - about the proposed reclassification law that would have made her a beast in Britain. even though it was quickly buried in the Wizengamot.

Ron frowned. "She's still in France, with Bill. They'll visit over Yuletide, but mum's not happy about it at all. We'll have some turbulent holidays." He shivered, and Harry, knowing the temper of Molly Weasley, and of Fleur, nodded in understanding.

"It is only reasonable for a couple to live in a country where neither partner is considered a second-class citizen." Hermione stated primly, daring Ron to disagree. He didn't. Harry's friend knew it was a very touchy topic for the witch - there was no magical country where she wasn't considered a third- or second-class citizen.

The next minutes passed in silence. Ron was reading a Quidditch magazine, Hermione was studying a book about spellcrafting and Harry was staring out of the window again, thinking about his family. He couldn't stop thinking about it though.

"Do you really think he'll marry one of them?" Harry knew that if Sirius was to marry, things would change in his home. He wasn't sure how.

"He cannot marry all of them, not in Britain." Ron answered. "But wouldn't marrying one of them make the other three jealous?"

"If he's actually in a relationship with all four. That could be just a rumor." Hermione added. Harry held her hand, running his thumb over her skin. She hated how everyone expected her to be the other witch, and that situation was a bit too close to her own. Ron was in rare form today, pushing Hermione's buttons without trying.

"You'll find out soon enough!" Ron smiled widely, and winked at them.

Harry was about to change the topic when Hermione shifted around, hooking a leg over his. "Say, Ron, did you find out why Parkinson has been watching you so intently?" She sounded a bit too smug in Harry's opinion.

"She's watching me so Malfoy can focus on you two. I am on to her though." Ron answered confidently.

"Are you sure? I've heard rumors that she's interested in you, if you know what I mean." Hermione's own grin widened.

"What? You're joking, right?" Ron stared at her as if she had told him he had to return to Hogwarts because the rest of the Weasley family was visiting Fleur in France.

"It's probably just a rumor. You'll find out in Sixth Year, I guess." Hermione smirked.

"Gah!" Ron shuddered at the thought, and both Harry and Hermione laughed until Padma returned. None of them wanted to explain what they were laughing about to Ron's girlfriend. It was just a rumor, after all, and a baseless one too.

*****

The rumors had been true. Hermione was convinced of that soon after her arrival at Grimmauld Place. Chantal, Eugénie, Laure and especially Valérie were just too comfortable with Sirius for this relationship not to be quite … she really didn't want to call it 'serious', but it fit so well. Though the way the four veela, wearing outfits completely inappropriate for the season, were draped around and over the wizard in the salon while he was talking to Harry about the last term at Hogwarts, that had to be staged. Sirius was obviously trying to embarrass Harry and herself.

It was working too. Hermione prided herself on being open-minded and tolerant, but this blatant display… she had to remind herself that wizards didn't share the same morals as her muggle family. That there was no gender discrimination in Britain or France. And there was nothing wrong with consenting adults doing whatever they wanted in private. Really. Harry and herself would just ignore the display, and ruin Sirius's prank.

They would, if Harry was cooperating. He wasn't though. Her boyfriend was distracted, staring - and not just at his godfather. Hermione felt like scowling, but kept smiling. She was better than this. She knew he loved her. And yet… the young witch slid closer to Harry, then slid into his lap and started to distract him herself. She was not a veela, but she was his girlfriend.

The talk about school soon broke down completely, replaced by giggling and French whispers, and babbling from Harry. And Sirius laughing loudly. No one got hexed though. Or burned.

*****

"Now, you two will be alone for the evening. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Sirius winked at Harry and Hermione while he was standing next to the floo in the house, clad in resplendent dress robes in black and gold. He and his guests would be attending the Longbottom's Yule Ball. Viktor had already gone through the floo, to get his date at the Black-Tonks' home. The four veela were still getting ready upstairs. According to Hermione, who had been shopping with them, their robes were just shy of scandalous - even for witches. Harry wasn't sure if he should regret the fact that he and Hermione wouldn't attend the ball, or be glad. His girlfriend would have likely tried to match the French witches' robes if her attitude so far was any indication, and he was not entirely sure how he felt about that. He liked her being more daring, more sure of herself, but to dress so provocatively… Not that she'd admit she was doing anything of the sort, of course.

But on the whole, he was looking forward to the evening, just the two of them. Remus was off at Hogwarts for something, the older wizard hadn't been too clear about it. Just the two of them then, without distractions. Or interruptions. Unless of course Kreacher tried again to provide detailed suggestions to "discipline Master's Godson's Slave". That elf really had it out for Hermione.

Their guests descended the stairs, and Harry had to fight not to stare or he would be looking forward to a slightly less enjoyable evening than expected. It was hard though - the four were wearing matching robes in black and gold, slit multiple times from ankles to hip, and hip to neck, tight enough to draw attention to their curves, loose enough to offer teasing glimpses. If Hermione wore such a robe… he glanced at his girlfriend, his imagination hard at work.

They smiled, waved at him, hugged Sirius and before Harry had realized it the five adults had left through the floo, leaving him alone with Hermione.

"That explains why minors are not invited." Hermione stated after about a minute.

"Too much pressure on them before they have gone through the Year of Discovery?" Harry asked, citing the official reason.

"No, too many scandals with underage witches and wizards wearing such robes. At least that's how this 'tradition' started, in my opinion" She glanced at him, then added. "Could you imagine me wearing that?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically before he caught himself. "Yes! Err..."

"Well, since you can, there's no need for me to actually wear it, is it?" Hermione smirked at him.

"You wouldn't wear it anyway." Harry wasn't pouting, at least he didn't think he was.

"Maybe I would. But not now." Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

"You don't have such robes."

"I could transfigure my clothes. Easily." Hermione ran her wand down her robes - which seemed to fit her just a bit more snugly after that.

"And duplicate all the charms on them?"

"Yes." His girlfriend stated full of conviction.

"That I'd like to see."

"I know."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Sure you did!"

They were still going at it when they reached the dining room, where Kreacher had prepared a five course meal. Harry was certain it would be a very enjoyable evening.

*****

Azkaban looked as foreboding and hostile as its reputation indicated. Even more so at night. A dark island in the middle of a black sea. The only thing that stood out against the shadows and darkness were the white tops of the waves breaking against the rocky, steep shores. Voldemort thought he could spot a flickering light on top of the walls, or inside one of the towers, but it could have been a simple trick of the moonlight too. It didn't matter - those he had come to see didn't need or use lights.

He floated closer to the cliff. The wards of the island would have broken the charms on a broom by now, but he was flying with pure magic, and the wards were not built to counter that. They were not built for the greatest Dark Lord Britain had ever seen! As he came closer he could feel his imprisoned followers suffering behind the cold, damp walls. Waiting for him, trusting him, even after more than a decade. To know, to feel such loyalty…

As he rose to the top of the cliffside he felt colder. The warming charms on his robes would be able to deal with any weather, no matter how extreme, but this was an unnatural cold, seeping into his bones no matter what he wore and what spells he cast. The aura of the dementors, the soul-sucking guardians of Azkaban. The fiends had noticed him and were converging on his position. Lesser wizards would have fled now, or broken down. Voldemort was made of much sterner stuff, but even the Dark Lord was not immune to a dementor's power, much less a horde of them. Not without the talisman he had taken from Renquirt, at least. The talisman the scholar hadn't been supposed to have.

When he saw the first shadow move towards him, tattered robes floating slowly through the air, he pulled it out. A soft light spread from it, and the cold disappeared at once. The fiends stopped their advance, circling around him, their inhuman faces hidden by large cowls and hoods. The talisman both attracted them, and held them at bay - that was what it had been made for. They were eerily silent - the only sound he could hear were the wind, and the waves clashing against the rocks below. He was wearing a dark cloak with a hood himself. From afar, he'd look like a dementor.

"I have come to make a deal with the Ravenous Cold." Voldemort stated. According to Renquirt that was what the dementors called themselves. Or what the scholar believed came close to what they thought of themselves. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he had spoken the correct words of parley. The demons surrounding him drew back, all but one. That one floated closer, facing him.

The dementors did not speak, but they understood speech. That was common knowledge. And it was wrong, as Renquirt had explained when prompted under the Imperius. They understood concepts, images, memories, emotions - but not words. Quite a few of the wizards who had first attempted to deal with them had lost their souls because they had not understood that. Hadn't understood the need to think and feel as precisely as one would word a contract. Or hadn't have the mental discipline to achieve what they knew had to be done.

Voldemort understood, and could do it. And more importantly, he knew what the dementors had wanted, when they had made the deal that resulted in them becoming the guards of Azkaban. What they had wanted, but had not been granted by the Ministry.

His offer was simple - he concentrated and imagined one dementor, then two, then three. Breeding. The demon facing him understood, and grew agitated. Voldemort suddenly felt hunger, and he understood. He thought of food. Of eating. Added it to his offer. Breeding and Feeding. He felt more agitation, then felt constrained. Imprisoned. He shook his head. Only a fool would grant them the freedom to move and feed where they wanted. The Ministry had limited them in their deal to only be able to feed on command. Voldemort would do the same. But he would allow them to breed. The Ministry would never surpass that offer. Not before he had taken over, in any case. And afterwards… deals would be renegotiated.

Breeding and Feeding, Voldemort thought, and the demon understood, and accepted. The Dark Lord felt a tingle run through him when the deal was closed and he had gained a small army. He didn't bother speaking, just willed them to feed on everyone outside a cell on the island, and they left to do his bidding.

While the human guards lost their souls when the inhuman guards turned on them, Voldemort floated down to the ground and started walking towards the prison. When he passed the gates, he pulled out a small bag containing small figurines. One for each of his followers imprisoned here, and a vial of polyjuice for each as well. And the figurine that was the transfigured body of Martin Steinmaur. He had come prepared.

Chapter 20: Sacrifices

Patron (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Experienced.

Eternal Lurker

Experienced.

Versed in the lewd.

Experienced.

Formerly 'Pahan'

Experienced.

Formerly 'Pahan'

Well worn.

Versed in the lewd.

Well worn.

Experienced.

Formerly 'Pahan'

Experienced.

Well worn.

Experienced.

Well worn.

Experienced.

Well worn.

Experienced.

Experienced.

Experienced.

Well worn.

Formerly 'Pahan'

Experienced.

Experienced.

Formerly 'Pahan'

Experienced.

(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

Experienced.

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