Chapter 25: Complications
London, Ministry of Magic, September 10th, 1996
Saul Croaker prided himself on his ability to focus on his work no matter what was happening outside the Department of Mysteries. As the Head Unspeakable, he knew his duty, and unless something affected the research conducted by his department or the numerous artefacts safeguarded in its vaults, it didn't concern him or his department. Ministers had disagreed in the past, but the Department was independent for a reason - you couldn't trust politicians to treat its secrets with the caution and respect they deserved. As a rule, the short-sighted fools only saw an easy way to solve whatever problem they couldn't deal with themselves.
But every rule had its exceptions - in this case, Albus Dumbledore. The Chief Warlock was one of the few wizards outside Saul's department whose knowledge of magic surpassed his own. Who knew what Alchemy would look like today if Dumbledore hadn't wasted his talents running Hogwarts and trying to reform Wizarding Britain. Merlin's beard, the man had worked - worked! Not studied, worked! - with Flamel! If only he had joined the Department instead of becoming a teacher! But Saul's predecessor either hadn't been convincing enough or had - and justly so - suspected that Dumbledore would have replaced him in short order. Unspeakable Parkinson had always been more of a politician than a researcher. If it had been the other way around, he might not have made that fatal mistake when testing a new spell.
Saul shook his head. His thoughts were wandering again. But he didn't even try to focus on his work. Not when Dumbledore was coming to 'discuss a matter of some importance'. The last time he had done that, two Unspeakables had been revealed as Death Eater spies. And Dumbledore had revealed why he had been the one to defeat Grindelwald.
Saul winced at the humiliating memory. He had almost lost his position over that. That Dumbledore had missed a third spy, Rookwood, who was only revealed after Voldemort's defeat, was no consolation. He should have been more attentive.
He had been more attentive afterwards, of course, although his methods might not have met Dumbledore's approval - might. For all his principles, the man was ultimately rather pragmatic when it counted - but at least Saul was certain that there were no more spies among his staff. Almost certain. Which was why he was slightly nervous about the upcoming meeting.
As if on cue, the charm on his desk announced that his visitor had arrived. Saul pushed the unread reports and correspondence away and straightened in his seat.
"Good afternoon, Saul."
"Good afternoon, Albus. Please have a seat."
"Thank you for seeing me on short notice." Dumbledore sat down, smiling as if Saul had had any choice in the matter.
"I always have time for the Chief Warlock." As long as he was called Albus Dumbledore.
"Thank you. Your predecessor was not as hospitable."
For a moment, Saul wondered - not for the first time - if Parkinson's accident had actually been an accident. But then he told himself that Dumbledore wouldn't have needed to go that far to get rid of an Unspeakable. So he simply nodded. "You wished to discuss a matter of importance?" Saul had no stomach for making pleasant conversation while that loomed over this visit.
"Straight to the point - something many members of the Wizengamot would do well to imitate." Dumbledore's smile grew wider for an instant, then vanished. Saul refrained from swallowing dryly. "I bring dire news. Your office is secure?"
"Of course." Saul wanted to frown - to ask if his office was protected against eavesdroppers! Not even the Death Eater spies had managed to get that far.
"I trust that you are aware of the recent string of murders." Dumbledore nodded.
"The ones the public thinks are related to vampires? Yes. Blood magic rituals, according to our investigation." Saul allowed himself to smile. If Dumbledore had just come to warn him of that…
"Blood magic, indeed. But I would not have bothered you if we were dealing with a simple practitioner of that most questionable art," Dumbledore said and Saul froze. The Chief Warlock leaned forward. "It is Voldemort, Saul. He is back."
Saul narrowed his eyes. "He's been back for years. You told me four years ago to tighten security around the Hall of Prophecies."
"I did, and you managed to improve its defences significantly. A testament to the skill of your department." Dumbledore sighed. "Which is why I have come today. I would like you to adjust its defences."
"Adjust?" Saul frowned. Dumbledore had inspected the security measures the Department had added four years ago himself and had told him, in private, that they would give even Voldemort pause. So what adjustments could he… He drew a hissing breath. "You want to use the Prophecy as bait."
Dumbledore nodded with a wry smile. "Yes. Voldemort has been busy researching a blood magic ritual and spreading his influence inside the Ministry. While the situation is not as dire as it was twenty years ago, I would rather stop him now than let him continue."
"He will suspect a trap." Voldemort hadn't almost brought the country to its knees by being stupid.
"He might, but I will endeavour to convince him otherwise. Since he does not know that I am aware of his plans, I think he might take the chance, provided he learns of this new 'weakness' through channels he trusts."
"Spies you mean," Saul spat.
"Not in your department," Dumbledore said, but Saul could almost hear the unsaid 'this time'. "Since anyone who is the subject of a Prophecy can enter the Hall, it should not be too difficult to set up a visit by someone Voldemort can safely interrogate once the spies in the Ministry inform him."
Saul narrowed his eyes. "A disposable stooge who just happens to be the subject of a Prophecy?" That would be very convenient. Too convenient.
Dumbledore smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a very familiar looking sphere.
"You faked a Prophecy Sphere?" Saul was almost as appalled as he was intrigued.
"Not exactly. I repurposed a blank one," Dumbledore said.
Of course, he would be able to get his hands on what Saul had believed to be exclusive to the Department! "Everything has been set up already, then?" he asked.
Dumbledore inclined his head, still smiling.
And Saul knew that if he didn't accede to this scheme, his successor would. "I hope you know what you are doing, Albus," he said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.
"So do I, Saul."
"And what if he doesn't take the bait?" Saul asked.
"Then I will have to resort to a more dangerous scheme."
*****
Hogwarts, September 12th, 1996
When he heard the faint noise of footsteps, Harry Potter immediately stopped in the middle of the corridor leading to Dumbledore's office and tapped his glasses. At once, his vision changed, and as usual, it took him a moment to adjust to suddenly being able to see through walls - and clothes. He had to focus his eyes in a certain way to actually see what was behind a specific wall, instead of being blinded by overlapping glimpses of everything in sight. But he was getting used to that, thanks to his constant practice. Constant Vigilance, of a sort, he thought as he looked through the wall to his left, into the corridor to the courtyard. Two witches - two Slytherins - were walking there. Greengrass and Davis. He frowned. They weren't moving as if they were planning to attack him or anyone else - they weren't even holding their wands - but it was late, close to curfew.
He changed his focus, peering into the satchel Davis carried. It was filled with plants. Perhaps they had gathered a few ingredients in the greenhouses since it was the night of the new moon. He refocused his sight anyway, to check if they were hiding anything under their clothes - he wasn't a prefect himself, but if Slytherins were smuggling things into the school, then it would be his duty to inform Neville and Lavender. And if they were smuggling anything dangerous…
They weren't, as he found out. He also found out that their reputations, at least as far as their bodies were concerned, were slightly overblown. Not that Harry was interested in them anyway - even if Sirius hadn't taught him that witches from Old Families were bad news, doubly so if they were in Slytherin, those two had framed Hermione and gotten her expelled.
They were almost at the intersection, and he quickly and almost silently cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. While it wasn't a real secret that he was receiving special lessons from Dumbledore, he'd rather not have Slytherins know his schedule. Even if they were not Death Eaters themselves, their parents might be - and all of them were far too close to the Malfoys.
"Did you hear that?"
"What?"
"Someone whispered."
"It was probably just a ghost."
When the two girls slowly stepped around the corner with their wands drawn, Harry was tempted to scare them - a few hexes Sirius had taught him would do it - but that would expose him. And probably cause some trouble for Dumbledore, should they go tattling to their parents. Malfoy had been rather quiet for months now, and Harry didn't want to risk changing that just for a lark.
So he watched them pass, smirking at their nervous expressions, and didn't move until they had turned the corner to the stairs. A few minutes later, he reached the Headmaster's office.
*****
"Learning how to use the protection your mother left you deliberately, and for things other than what she designed it for, will not be easy." Dumbledore looked straight at Harry Potter with a very serious expression. "Nevertheless, it is crucial to defeating Voldemort. We cannot count on him trying to personally kill you as he tried and failed in 1981 and 1992. He might yet risk a third defeat; his arrogance and need to prove his supremacy is impressive from a certain point of view, but he is no fool."
Harry nodded. He already knew that. Fool me once, and all that.
"So, since your mother used a ritual, you will have to learn how to use one yourself, if not her particular one, so you are familiar with the fundamentals. Then you will need to learn what your mother did to protect you. Only then you will be ready to use its power for yourself."
"And all before my seventeenth birthday. No pressure." Harry forced himself to smile.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I am confident that you will manage it, and with quite some time to spare. I have taken measures to slow his research down."
"What if he takes so long that I lose my mother's protection before he is ready to move?"
"He is acting more cautiously than in the past, but between his arrogance and pride, and since he believes himself to be immortal and is in need of impressing his followers to strengthen their resolve, he is likely to take more risks than would be prudent, if presented with a tempting opportunity."
"You mean a trap," Harry said.
"Precisely." Dumbledore beamed at him.
"With me as bait." Harry nodded. Voldemort wanted him dead anyway; better to use that against the Dark Lord than hiding from him.
"No." The Headmaster shook his head. "Your courage does you credit, but after his two failures, Voldemort is unlikely to attack you personally. He already sent an assassin after you, after all. And that means that you have to be even more cautious, lest his next attempt succeeds."
Or others might die - Remus and Ginny had almost been killed by the vampire trying to kill him. Harry pressed his lips together. He didn't want more people risking their lives for him while he cowered behind the wards of Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place. "What else will tempt him out of hiding?"
"The prophecy tying your two fates together."
"The what?"
"Did you never wonder why Voldemort tried to murder a baby? Why your mother created a ritual to protect you at the cost of her own life?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
Harry had assumed that the Dark Lord had simply been trying to murder his parents and their entire family for fighting against him, as he had done so often in the last war. But if the Headmaster was asking like that… "He needed me for a ritual?" Harry guessed.
"No. There was a prophecy by a Seer, before your birth." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…" he started to say as Harry listened with rapt attention.
*****
"...will be born as the seventh month dies."
Harry Potter's thoughts were racing when the Headmaster finished retelling the prophecy. This was the reason his parents had been murdered. "So… we'll be duelling? Me and the Dark Lord?"
Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Prophecies do not work like that, no matter what some people believe. As you may have noticed, the prophecy is rather vague. Easy to misinterpret - or to fit to events after they have already happened. Ultimately, a prophecy is only as powerful as the belief in it."
"But it does fit. I do have that power. I already defeated him twice." Harry didn't remember the first time, but he wouldn't ever forget the second time. Seeing Quirrell die slowly from the poison the Dark Lord had struck him with, the stench of burning flesh when Harry had jumped their possessed attacker, too late to save the teacher…
"You did, but you only received the power because Voldemort attacked your family. If he had ignored you Lily's ritual wouldn't have been completed. One could say that only Voldemort's belief in the prophecy made it happen."
"But if he already knows the prophecy, why would that be good bait for a trap?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore smiled. "Because he does not know the full prophecy. The spy who overheard it was discovered before the Seer had finished, and had to flee. And so Voldemort will have wondered for years what else the Prophecy said about him - and about you. Wondered whether it also held the key to defeating you. Wondered if he would have been able to kill you had he known the full prophecy." He leaned back. "I do not think he will be able to resist the opportunity to get his hands on the entire prophecy."
"And how long will that take?" Harry asked. How much time did he have to master this power?
"Do not worry. I have just started to set things in motion. There are several steps yet to be taken, all of them under my control." Dumbledore smiled. "Keep in mind that he is not aware that we know about him, and about his plans. He is already at a serious disadvantage. Now let us get started with learning about rituals."
Harry nodded. The faster they started, the faster they would be ready.
But he couldn't help wondering if the Dark Lord would actually be fooled. And what they would do should Dumbledore's plan fail.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, September 19th, 1996
Hermione Granger stared at her reflection in the full body mirror, turning slightly and looking over her shoulder. After a few - more than a few - attempts, she had finally managed to get an even artificial tan.
"That doesn't seem like it would fool anyone. It's just you, with a tan. And not even a deep tan."
She didn't glare at Jeanne. The other witch was correct - using a spray tan wouldn't alter her skin tone enough to suffice as a disguise. There were other muggle methods - using full body makeup - but applying those would be even more time-consuming than using a spray tan.
"I don't know why you even try these muggle methods." Jeanne snorted. "Just use a Skin-Colour-Change Charm."
"That is a known charm - if not as common as the Hair Dyeing Charm - and so people might check for it." Which was why she was planning to use muggle disguises. They were far harder to use, but wouldn't vanish after a single Dispelling Charm.
"A good cleaning charm would still strip all the makeup off your skin."
She pressed her lips together. "Yes. Which is why I'm researching ways to combine muggle and magical methods." Even though she hadn't made much progress.
"You haven't had trouble so far and your 'catsuit' covers you from head to toe," Jeanne pointed out.
"It's better to be prepared for all eventualities," Hermione shot back. "And I can't wear my suit when I'm posing as a debutante from the New World. I'd rather not lose my disguise in the middle of a ball."
"Attempting to remove any kind of charm from a witch at such an event would be incredibly rude." Jeanne sniffed. "Duels have been fought over less."
"I don't think I can count on that," Hermione retorted. The sort of witches who had framed her as a thief wouldn't be above 'accidentally' ruining a foreign upstart's robes and makeup.
"I guess you are correct - I've encountered a number of very rude wizards and witches in Britain. But trying to expose a witch like that…" Jeanne shook her head. "That would never happen in France."
Hermione doubted that, but she would certainly not try to defend the Old Families of Wizarding Britain. Not after what they had done to her. "So, I need to find a way to change my appearance that is not easily reversible, and yet easy to apply and remove when needed. It looks like I'll have to find or create a potion to achieve that effect." And she didn't think she could feasibly create such a potion without spending an inappropriate amount of time on it.
Jeanne nodded in agreement. "You might need a discreet potioneer. Sirius certainly could afford the expense."
Hermione glanced at the French witch - was that a barb aimed at the amount of gold he had spent on her debts? Probably not, judging by Jeanne's expression. She nodded. "But finding someone who will not betray me, willingly or not, might be a little tricky." The Weasley twins were certainly skilled enough for such a task, having opened their own joke shop in Diagon Alley immediately after taking their N.E.W.T.s, but Hermione didn't know if they could be trusted not to spill her secret if they thought she simply wanted to play Cinderella or prank someone with a disguise. And to reveal everything to them… She shook her head.
Jeanne sighed. "I know. Sirius wants me to learn Occlumency, but finding a tutor who has the time to teach me and can be trusted is nigh impossible."
Hermione shrugged. "As long as you avoid their eyes and maintain some mental discipline, you will be fine. And given the kind of robes you like to wear, I do not think too many men will be looking at your eyes." She almost winced at her own words - she hadn't meant to sound like a jealous witch.
Fortunately, Jeanne laughed. "Indeed. However, not everyone is susceptible to such distractions. Like Dumbledore," she added with a frown.
Hermione shrugged. Of course, the Headmaster would check if Jeanne could be trusted. "There are not too many people like him."
"But it only takes one of them - and they can disguise themselves as well."
Hermione knew that also - if the Dark Lord had been a little more suspicious of a cat's presence that time… "Yes. But we can only do so much."
"We haven't had another mission in a week, though."
Hermione frowned at the other witch. "You sound like Sirius."
"Perhaps." Jeanne smiled widely. "He could have been born French. He is certainly brave enough. And passionate enough."
Hermione tried not to frown and bit her lower lip. She was in no mood to hear more details about Sirius and Jeanne's relationship. Not when her own love life was nonexistent.
Unfortunately, Jeanne hadn't missed her reaction. "Oh, don't be like that! You could find a lover of your own, with little effort."
Hermione scoffed. "The frumpy muggleborn? Not even my closest friends think I'm attractive!" Of course, she had done all she could to make that happen, but still…
"I'm certain that they would change their opinion at once, should they see you right now," Jeanne retorted with a grin.
Hermione glared at her and summoned her robe to cover herself. Or as much as the robe - a gift from Jeanne - managed. "They can't. It would ruin my secret identity."
"But you could easily have a lover in your secret identity. Miss Merriweather was very popular, as I recall. And you're an adult witch now."
Hermione scoffed again. "That wouldn't be much of a relationship." And she didn't really feel any different now that she was an adult in the eyes of Wizarding Britain. Just another birthday spent without her best friends. And without her parents.
"Perhaps. On the other hand, many wizards might like an affair without many strings." Jeanne smiled at her. "I think you might enjoy it as well, and learn a few things that will be very useful once you start a real relationship."
Hermione glared at her, but the other witch simply kept smiling at her.
Much like Sirius, she thought. Far too much like the dog.
*****
Hogwarts, September 26th, 1996
"Ron! Harry!"
Harry Potter watched Luna walk towards the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. She was waving a letter - opened, so the odds of it being cursed were low, or she'd have been the first victim. He still tensed slightly - the last session with Moody had focused on traps, and Harry had been checking pretty much everything with his glasses since.
"Luna!" Ron put his glass of pumpkin juice down and glanced at Seamus, who quickly scooted a little to the side, freeing the spot next to Harry's friend. "Have a seat!"
Harry refrained from commenting that the two had been talking to each other right before breakfast - not even ten minutes ago - and so there was no need to act as if they had been separated for weeks. Especially since they weren't a couple. Not yet, at least. But they didn't deserve such comments from him. And doing so would make him look jealous, as Ginny would certainly be quick to point out.
So he took another bite out of his sausage - he already missed the croissants Jeanne had introduced at home - and listened to what Luna had to say.
"Daddy wrote me, look!" She put the letter down on the table and smoothed it out, almost toppling Seamus's teacup in the process. The other student scooted a little further away in response. "He's been in correspondence with the Prime Minister, you know."
"Yes. You told me." Ron smiled, rather sappily. He hadn't told Harry that. At least Harry couldn't remember being told.
"Yes. And now the Prime Minister has informed him that he has had both Westminster and Downing Street protected against Nargles and started an anti-Dementor task force. He wants Daddy on it since he's the foremost expert on invisible creatures in Britain!"
"Great!" Ron looked like he wanted to hug her, Harry thought, but didn't realise it.
He made an agreeing noise himself and finished his sausage.
Luna nodded several times. "But the Ministry is dragging their feet. They claim that the Dementors are under control and no threat to muggles and that there is no need to spend money on taking precautions."
Ron scoffed. "Fools."
Harry nodded in agreement. "They should destroy those monsters." What they had done to Sirius…
"Impossible, mate." Ron shook his head. "Can't kill Dementors."
"Daddy says we might simply not have found out their secrets yet," Luna said. "But nothing is truly immortal."
Harry certainly hoped that that was the case with Voldemort.
"Dumbledore supports the initiative as well," Luna went on. "He said so in the Wizengamot." She smiled. "The Chief Warlock's support means a lot to us! People are finally taking The Quibbler more seriously!"
Harry doubted that, but he didn't say that either. Although he didn't doubt that the Headmaster had good reasons to support this 'task force'. If the Dementors ever got out of control… He shuddered.
*****
Hogwarts, September 27th, 1996
...and then stir five and half a times counter-clockwise until the liquid's colour changes from turquoise to dark blue.
Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, Harry Potter closed his eyes and pushed the Potions book away. What would happen if the colour didn't change after stirring it five and a half times? The book didn't say, but Snape would ask. The git always asked questions as if he expected Harry to fail at every attempt to brew a potion. He frowned. He wasn't actually bad at Potions, no matter what Snape claimed. Certainly not as bad as, say, Neville, who had dropped Potions after the O.W.L.s. Harry was about average for the N.E.W.T. class in his own estimation - if he took Snape's favouritism for the Slytherins into account. Still… "Why do you need a N.E.W.T. in Potions to become an Auror? Do they expect us to brew our own potions for work?"
He hadn't expected an answer, but Ron looked up from his essay and gave him one anyway. "Percy told me when I asked him in summer. When the Auror corps was founded, you were expected to brew your own potions because the Ministry wouldn't pay for them - they could save gold that way. But, as Aurors began to need more complicated potions, they had to drop that policy since an Auror couldn't spend weeks brewing a potion. But the requirement stayed out of tradition."
"I should have known it was something stupid like that," Harry said.
Ron shrugged. "It's not as if you need to have an Outstanding in Potions - an Acceptable is enough. Although knowing Potions can be useful if you're investigating a case, or so I heard."
"It's still two more years with Snape," Harry retorted, and smiled when he saw his friend wince - since Ron was planning to become an Auror as well, he would have to suffer through the same.
Movement on his side - he sat with the back to the wall, of course - drew his attention. He surreptitiously glanced over and saw that a witch from fourth or fifth year had just taken a seat at the table closest to his and Ron's. She wasn't looking at the book in front of her, though, but at him. That was suspicious.
"Do you know the witch to my left?" he whispered, leaning forward as if to ask Ron something about the text he was reading.
"Huh?" Ron glanced over. "Romilda Vane, I think. Ginny once complained about her."
"She's in Ginny's year then?"
"No, fourth year."
Vane didn't look like a fourth year witch, Harry thought. He tapped his glasses. And she didn't dress like a fourth year witch under her robes, either. That looked more like the lingerie Jeanne owned, actually.
And she was smiling at him.
*****
London, Diagon Alley, September 28th, 1996
Hermione Granger slowly walked down Diagon Alley as the sun went down over London. Her mark would soon finish his work and, according to what they had been told, head to his favourite pub, the Bent Unicorn, to drink a pint before heading home. But she didn't want to get there too soon and then have to spend a long time waiting on the street outside the pub.
She reached 'Quidditch Supplies', and, as she had expected, the dog stopped following her in favour of staring at the broom on display. She gave his leash a sharp tug - they weren't here to stare at brooms, no matter how nice the latest Cleansweep looked, and if someone started to wonder why a dog was interested in Quidditch, their carefully chosen disguises would be for naught.
The dog whined and glared at her, but she scoffed in return and scolded him. "Bad dog!" She had to use her wand to clean his now grubby snow white fur again and wondered how he had managed to get it dirty without slipping his leash - it looked like he had rolled on the ground in a side alley!
A young man chuckled at the sight, then smiled when he noticed her looking at him. He was rather attractive, Hermione noticed. And his humour didn't seem to be aimed at her, just at her situation. But she was on a mission, and a friendly bystander could ruin their plan. So she glared at him, huffing, and then focused on cleaning the dog until the man had walked away.
They walked passed four more shops until they reached Gregor's Gloves next to the pub. She wasn't particularly interested in the shop's wares, but this was the right location to wait for their mark. Predictably, the dog made his lack of interest in gloves very clear by lying down and pretending to sleep, but she could safely ignore him while keeping an eye out for their mark. Mr Fletcher and Jeanne, both disguised, were around as well, one opposite the pub checking the vegetables on display there, the other at a street vendor stand, eating a snack. Just in case.
Hermione had spent a few minutes in front of the display window, earning a few glances from the owner inside, when she spotted their mark walking down the Alley. Trevor Dicklebury, thirty-four years old, just old enough to have possibly fought in the last war before entering the Ministry, would be passing her in a minute on his way to the pub.
Or rather, she corrected herself, he would be passing her once he stopped staring at the new Cleansweep in the window. She ignored the dog's growl - they couldn't have known he would do that, and a dog looking at brooms was simply too suspicious.
Still, when Dicklebury finally tore himself away from the display, she almost sighed with relief. Showtime!
When the man was about ten yards away, she dropped the small object she had concealed in her hand to the ground. As planned, the transfigured mouse ran straight at Dicklebury. The man's puzzled expression turned into a terrified one when Sirius started chasing the apparent mouse - straight towards him. Dicklebury managed to yell an instant before the massive dog crashed into him, throwing him to the ground, before continuing to chase his prey.
Hermione gasped and rushed to the man's side. "Bad dog! Bad dog!" she yelled, then bent down to help Dicklebury up. "I'm so sorry - I don't know what got into him. He's usually such a well-behaved dog!" she lied. "You didn't get hurt, did you?" she asked, holding on to his arm.
He shook his head, blinking. "No… I think not…"
"Really?" She sighed in apparent relief and smiled at him, pushing her chest into his arm. "But your robes got dirty! Let me remedy that!" She had her wand out and was casting before he could reply. And, as planned, she used the distraction caused by her casting several different cleaning charms to slip an enchanted Knut into his pocket.
"Thank you, but I think I'm fine now, Miss…?"
"Bennett, Betty Bennett," she answered with a wide smile. "And you are?"
"Trevor Dicklebury." He was smiling as well - and staring at her bust. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the dog returned with the mouse in his mouth.
"Snuffles!" she scolded him. "Drop that at once! You already ate! And you know what the Healer said about your weight." She turned to Dicklebury. "I'm sorry, but I have to take care of my dog now - who knows where he found that rat!"
"I think it looks more like a mouse, actually," Dicklebury said, taking a step towards the dog.
In response, the dog dropped the mouse on the man's shoes and barked. Wincing, Dicklebury took a few steps back. The dog followed as Hermione grabbed the leash. "Bad dog! No biting nice people or you won't get any supper!"
That made the dog growl and Dicklebury all but flee into the pub. Hermione shook her head and started to drag the dog away, berating him until they were out of sight and could duck into a side alley to apparate.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, September 28th, 1996
"Another successful yet simple mission anyone else could have done easily!"
Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at Sirius's pronouncement. The mission hadn't been too difficult, that much was true, but it had still required some training. And the fact that Sirius was a dog animagus had certainly helped. "You sounded as if it were a lethal risk when we prepared for this."
"It was! If anyone had recognised my disguised form, I would have died of embarrassment!"
"I thought you looked rather adorable," Jeanne said while pulling off her wig and restoring her rather drab robes to their usual daring style.
Sirius huffed. "I'm not supposed to look adorable!" And yet he was smiling.
"Not even to me?" Jeanne asked, stepping closer to him.
"Well...." He wrapped his arms around her.
"That's our cue to leave," Mr Fletcher, who hadn't bothered to remove his own disguise yet, muttered. "Unless you have something to report."
Hermione shook her head. "Nothing. Everything went according to plan."
"Alright. See you tomorrow then. Tutor Smith's!" The fireplace flashed green and he was gone.
Hermione glanced at the couple, lost in a passionate kiss, as she left the entrance hall. She had some reading and studying to do. And she needed to feed Crookshanks. She had no time to waste on romance, much less on a mere 'affair without strings', no matter what Jeanne said.
*****
Hogwarts, October 1st, 1996
Vane was watching him again, Harry Potter noticed as he glanced at her. Just as she had done at every opportunity during the last few days. And she was still wearing lingerie under her school robes, unlike the other girls with her. She had the body for it, too, despite her age. At least he thought so. And long, slightly curly, black hair, dark eyes and full lips.
She must have noticed him as she suddenly looked away, then started whispering and giggling with her friends. Harry must have been too obvious. But he didn't have a magical eye that kept spinning around and could look behind him. And he didn't want one, either, if it meant giving up one of his own eyes. Even if it would make spying - checking on possible threats - without getting caught much easier. And peeping on girls.
"She fancies you."
Harry whipped his head around and stared at Ron. "What?"
"Vane." Ron twitched his head in the direction of the fourth year and her friends.
Harry pressed his lips together - he had thought Ron was busy with his homework. At least they had, as usual, cast a privacy spell before starting their essays.
"She's a pretty one, but rather flighty, you know? At least that's what Ginny says. A little boy-crazy. Or boy-who-lived-crazy," Ron went on.
Harry frowned. "I don't think that Ginny's a fair judge of character." They had broken up for a reason.
Ron shrugged. "Well, it's what I heard." He paused. "Do you fancy her?"
Did he? "She's pretty."
"She's a fourth year, though. Younger than Ginny," Ron pointed out.
"She doesn't look like a fourth year," Harry retorted. And she didn't dress like a fourth year. Or fifth year. "And Ginny was a fourth year last year."
"Ah." Ron sounded as if Harry had just said something that wasn't obvious. "You gonna ask her out?"
Was he? She fancied him. At least she acted like it. All the staring and giggling with her friends. But he was training to face Voldemort. Between the sessions with Moody and Dumbledore's special lessons, he had even less time for a girlfriend than before his O.W.L.s. He shrugged. "I don't know." He could do without another pushy, demanding witch trying to monopolise him. On the other hand, having a girlfriend was nice. He missed the snogging. And the flying together. "Maybe." He sighed. "But she could be a spy, too, couldn't she?" It would be a good cover. And both Moody and Sirius had taught him about 'honey traps', although from slightly different perspectives.
"You think so?" Ron took another glance at the witch in question. "Have you told Moody or Dumbledore about her?"
"Not yet." Moody might overreact. And Dumbledore… Asking the Headmaster to check out a potential girlfriend felt wrong.
*****
Hogwarts, October 2nd, 1996
Harry Potter clenched his teeth and held his breath. This was the trickiest part of the ritual. The candles were lit, the incense was burning, but the freshly cut oak twig was still whole. He raised his wand and focused on the movements he had studied earlier. It wasn't like casting a spell, not at all - slowly weaving complicated patterns with your wand instead of quickly swishing and flicking felt sluggish.
But he managed it, finishing the ritual with a figure of eight - according to Dumbledore symbolising eternity - and saw the twig crumble to dust - or ashes. And, an instant later, he felt wide-awake and energised. "Whoa!" He shot to his feet.
Dumbledore smiled at him. "Well done, Harry. You completed your first successful ritual."
He smiled, then blinked. "I could have brewed a cauldron's worth of Pepper-Up Potion in half the time this ritual took."
The Headmaster chuckled. "And there you have the reason rituals are rarely used any more - for the vast majority of them, there are far more convenient and effective alternatives. However," he went on, "for some, unfortunately often nefarious, purposes rituals are still the most effective, or even only, option."
"Like the worst of the Dark Arts."
"'The worst' is a matter of opinion," Dumbledore said. "Ranking the horrors which the Dark Arts allow their practitioners to unleash upon their victims is a rather tasteless academic exercise. What purpose would it serve to argue about whether it is worse to use the Imperius Curse and force a father murder his children or to use the Torture Curse on him? None at all. But I digress. I chose this ritual for a reason: Since it works similar to a Pepper-Up Potion, you will have an easier time harnessing and redirecting the ritual's power than with other rituals."
"Ah." Harry nodded. "So… what now?"
"Now you redo the ritual a few more times to better familiarise yourself with it before we take the next step."
Harry almost groaned. "I would think that I'd grow familiar with the ritual anyway while trying to learn the next step."
"That may be the case, but it is better to ensure you have a solid foundation before you attempt to build on it. Especially when exploring new avenues of magic." Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the candles lit themselves, and the incense started burning again before another twig floated towards the circle on the floor.
Harry sighed but dutifully took up his spot again.
*****
Vane was in the common room, apparently reading a book when Harry Potter returned to Gryffindor Tower from Dumbledore's office. She was by herself, though, not with her friends. And staring at him over her book.
Harry hesitated a moment - she could be a spy. Or he could have spent a little too much time with Moody. He was a Gryffindor, after all. And she was a fourth year. Even if she were a spy, she wouldn't get the drop on him. He nodded to himself, then walked towards her. "Hi."
Her eyes widened a little and her smile vanished for a moment. Then it returned. "Hi."
He sat down at her table with his back to the wall, his left side facing her, and glanced at her book. "Quidditch Through the Ages?"
She nodded. "I love Quidditch." She put the book down, though.
"Who doesn't?" Harry chuckled. Even Hermione had come round. He leaned forward, left elbow on the table. "So, I noticed you've been watching me…"
"Ah…" She blushed and her smile grew slightly forced. She didn't look like a spy at all. And she was pretty.
It was clear that Sirius's advice was what fit this situation, not Moody's. He smiled at her. "I've been watching you too," he said, tapping his glasses.
"You have?" She licked her lips.
And she was very pretty.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, October 7th, 1996
Smoke - no, fog - filled the room. The bloody dog was hiding again. Hermione Granger clenched her teeth and flicked her wand, sending a volley of Paint-Splash Hexes blindly into the cloud blocking her vision as she quickly stepped to the side. She reached up to tap her mask's left side. "Jeanne! Cover the other side!"
"Oui!"
Jeanne slipping into French was a bad sign - the other witch only did that when she wasn't thinking clearly. Hermione crouched down and glanced over her shoulder. As she had feared, her ally was standing there in a perfect duelling stance, firing hexes into the fog. Hermione opened her mouth to warn the witch, but before she could speak, a spell hit Jeanne's head, and her face and hair turned red.
No choice now. The French witch muttered curses as Hermione jumped straight into the fog, rolling over her left shoulder and coming up in a crouch with her wand aimed ahead. Now she just had to detect the dog before she was spotted.
"Stupefy!"
That was to her left! Eyes wide, she dropped to the ground and rolled to the side, sending a hex towards her left before jumping up and sprinting to her right. If she could flank the dog… She gasped when she felt her feet slide over the suddenly slippery floor. Ice! She didn't try to stay upright but instead let herself fall down. A spell flew overhead, nothing more than a flash of red colour in the fog. She tried to stop her movement, but the ice was unnaturally slick, and her own momentum carried her out of the concealing fog.
And into the dog's line of fire. Red paint covered her mask before she could react, and she lowered her head, muttering a few curses of her own. Defeated again.
At least she had lasted longer than Jeanne.
*****
Hermione Granger walked into her room and closed the door behind her, then lay down on her bed and sighed as she rubbed her rear. Sirius's aim had been as precise as ever during today's Defence training session. And to think that Harry and Ron were going through even worse in their sessions with Moody… She clenched her teeth. If they could stand that, she could handle what the dog threw at her!
And she was improving, little by little - she wasn't getting hit as often as before in their sessions. But she still was getting hit too often, she added with a frown. And she didn't get back at the dog as much as she wanted to. Not that she needed to - a good thief was a master of escape, not a master of duelling. And cats won against dogs by outmanoeuvring them, not by outfighting them. Mostly. But still, she would love to put the dog in his place with her wand, instead of her claws.
She rolled on to her back and stared at the ceiling, sighing once more. Sirius and Jeanne were 'resting' until dinner. She knew what they were doing. And Harry had a new girlfriend, some fourth year named Romilda Vane. At least that was what Sirius had said.
And she was alone, with only her cat for company. Who was currently ignoring her in favour of shredding the latest toy she had bought for him.
Snorting, she changed, rolled over and buried her muzzle in her flank for a nap.
*****
Hogwarts, October 14th, 1996
Harry Potter slowly moved his wand through the finishing touches of the ritual. Just… about… now! The twig started to crumble, the candles flickered, and he felt the ritual's power well up inside him, filling him. Power he could use for something else! Light!
His wand lit up, shining light filling the room, and he sighed. That had been a silent spell, not a redirected ritual - he still felt the ritual's effect. "Damn!" he muttered.
"Do not be so hard on yourself - being able to cast a spell silently is an achievement in itself."
Harry shot the Headmaster a not-quite-glare. "Not the achievement I need, though." Voldemort wouldn't be impressed by a silent Wand-Lighting Charm.
Dumbledore smiled. "But you are making progress."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, I'll soon be able to do this ritual in my sleep."
"This is not something that can be mastered quickly. It took me some time as well."
Probably not as long as it is taking me, Harry thought. He didn't contradict the Headmaster any further, though, and gathered the materials for the next ritual. There was no time to waste.
*****
Two hours and four more failed attempts to harness the power of the ritual later, they finished for the evening and Harry Potter made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. It was past curfew already, not that he cared about that. But he cared about the fact that the dark hallways offered plenty of spots suitable for an ambush. Between a Human-presence-revealing Spell and his glasses, though, he would be able to spot anyone laying in wait for him. And thanks to his Cloak, they wouldn't spot him anyway.
Like the witch waiting for him in the alcove outside the Fat Lady's painting. Romilda. She was wearing lingerie again. No one else was around; the prefects would be patrolling the dungeons at this time. Perfect for a private snogging session.
He removed his Cloak before he turned the last corner - when he had surprised her from behind the last time, she had shrieked so loudly they had had to hide from the Gryffindor prefects afterwards - and didn't try to walk silently.
As expected, she stepped out of the alcove before he reached it. "Hi!" she greeted him in a whisper.
"Hi!" He smiled as she jumped into his arms, forcing him to take a step back to keep his balance. "Sorry for taking longer than I thought."
"Don't worry," she whispered, looking up at him. Then she pushed herself up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck so she could kiss him.
Here was a witch who didn't have to be nagged into a snogging session! Without breaking the kiss he moved his arms down, then lifted her up slightly, and pushed her back into the alcove. It was too close to the entrance to the common room but it was past curfew. And the thought of snogging right outside Gryffindor Tower was more than a little exciting. They were both Gryffindors, after all. Besides, he had his Cloak to cover them both.
Under the Cloak, he lifted Romilda up a little more, so she could wrap her legs around his waist and he had his hands free to slip under her robes while they kissed. She was a quick study, too, when it came to snogging.
He had pushed her robes up and over her head, entangling her arms, when he heard the footsteps in the hallway. The prefects? They should be on patrol for another twenty minutes!
"Wha..."
"Shh!" He put a finger on Romilda's lips, silencing her. She looked nervous when he put her down and turned around, moving carefully so as not to pull the Cloak off either of them. "Stay close!" he whispered. She pressed herself into his back, arms wrapping around his chest, as he moved to the corner of the alcove and peered down the hallway.
When he recognised the two figures walking towards the entrance to Gryffindor, he blinked. Ron and Luna? At this time? Had they been off snogging? Ron had mentioned earlier today that he wanted to help Luna with her studies, but had he spent that long with her?
"...sorry we didn't find any Humdingers," he heard Ron say.
"Don't be! It was a fun trip, almost a mini-expedition. We might have more luck in twelve days - they like to dance in the moonlight."
"Good! I had fun too," Ron said. "It's late, though."
"Past curfew!" Luna agreed. Harry saw her nod several times. She was standing close to Ron.
"I should walk you back to your dorm. Help you avoid the prefects' patrols."
Harry almost snorted. Ron hadn't even noticed him and Romilda - he should have cast a Human-presence-revealing Spell. Moody would have a fit if he knew.
"You don't need to. I can avoid them myself." Luna's hair flew around her head as she shook her head.
"I'd feel better if I were with you, though. What is it your father always says? 'You never split the party'?"
"That's sweet!" Luna said. "But then you'll have to walk back alone."
"Well, someone has to, and I'd rather it be me," Ron declared. "And I can detect invisible people."
"But not Nargles!"
"They're not people, are they?"
"Right."
"So… let's go? The prefects won't be in the area for another fifteen minutes."
"Alright!" Luna turned around, then turned back and stepped right up to Ron. She pushed herself up on tiptoe, and kissed him on the lips. Or rather, gave him a peck on the lips. She had her arms behind her back too, instead of hugging him. It was cute, but it wasn't snogging.
Ron was smiling widely, though, and held out his hand. Luna took it, and the two walked off towards Ravenclaw Tower.
Harry was shaking his head, watching them go. Ron had it bad. Then he turned around. "They're gone," he whispered.
"Good," Romilda answered. "How long until the prefects return?"
"Ten minutes, at least."
Plenty of time.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, October 29th, 1996
"They sealed off the Dementors."
"What?" Hermione Granger looked up from the third chapter of 'A Life in the Ring'.
"They sealed off the Dementors." Sirius's voice sounded as if he couldn't believe his eyes. He pointed at the headline of the Daily Prophet.
Hermione's eyes widened, and she reached out, but he pulled the newspaper away from her. "No, no. Not again. Get your own subscription."
She bared her teeth at the selfish dog, but he didn't budge. Jeanne giggled. And when Hermione glared at her, she laughed.
"The Ministry had the Dementors sealed up - in the deepest level of Azkaban. Dumbledore himself was involved, or so it says here." Sirius shook his head as he read on. "Doubled the regular guards… Hit-Wizards. Curse-Breakers hired from Gringotts to improve the wards of the prison." He snorted. "They can't be serious. That must have cost a fortune."
"About time!" Jeanne commented. "Dementors… We don't need such monsters to guard our prisoners in the Bastille."
"Paid for by the muggles?" Sirius lowered the newspaper. "What the hell is going on?"
Hermione blinked. This reminded her of… but… She noticed that Sirius wasn't keeping a tight grip on the Daily Prophet, and used her wand to switch it with her book.
"Hey!"
She ignored his protests and skimmed the article. There! 'Research into the threat 'Nargles' might pose to Britain ongoing. Muggles insisted.' She looked up. "It's the work of Luna and her father. They managed to convince the Prime Minister that invisible creatures pose a threat to muggle Britain."
"Well, they're right in the case of Dementors," Sirius said, clenching his teeth. "Bloody demons!" he muttered, and Hermione saw that he was trembling, and holding her book so tightly his knuckles were stark white. Jeanne reached out to touch his shoulder and Hermione bit her lower lip. Of course he'd have flashbacks. She should have thought of that.
"Good riddance!" Sirius said, after a moment, holding Jeanne's hand. "But the Minister wouldn't have agreed to this just because the muggles wanted something done. It must have been Dumbledore's work."
That made more sense, Hermione thought. And if the muggles paid the bill, it would likely have been easy to push the proposal through. Probably bribed the Minister, too. "They'll improve security, then."
"Of course. That will make it harder for Voldemort to spring his followers from prison." Sirius grinned.
Hermione forced herself to smile as well. She wasn't completely happy, though - those changes would make it much harder for a cat to escape the prison, should she ever get caught. She would have to adjust her contingency plans.
*****
Hogsmeade, November 2nd, 1996
There wasn't anything wrong with a witch being honest about her desires and taking the initiative with her boyfriend, Hermione Granger thought. And the - predominantly muggle - double-standard regarding the sexuality of boys and girls was utterly hypocritical and deserved to be eradicated with extreme prejudice. And Romilda hadn't made a single veiled comment towards her or shown any hint of jealousy, which put her far above the likes of Patil.
But Harry's new girlfriend was still a vapid witch with an overactive libido and no sense of modesty, Hermione Granger thought as her best friend and his new girlfriend lost themselves in another French kiss right across from her. Of course, Vane had neither any reason nor any opportunity to show any jealousy if Harry spent the Hogsmeade weekend with his lips glued to hers!
She took a sip from her overpriced tea and glanced at her other best friend. Ron and Luna weren't snogging, but judging by the way the two were staring at each other, they were probably wishing they were. At least Luna wasn't taking notes on snogging any more.
Hermione sighed.
"Hm?" Luna looked at her. "Is something wrong?"
"No." She shook her head, glancing at Harry, who hadn't even noticed. "Nothing's wrong."
Perhaps Jeanne was correct about having an affair.
*****
Hogwarts, November 4th, 1996
Harry Potter finished the ritual with his eyes closed. He didn't need to see his wand to complete the figure. He didn't need to watch the twig crumble to ashes. He knew what would happen by heart now.
And this time he was ready. He felt the energy entering him as if it were a mental probe entering his mind. And he knew how to deal with those. All he had to do was to learn how to deal with this. And he knew what he had to do for that, too. Clenching his teeth, he focused his will. Instead of letting the power rejuvenate him, he channelled it into his wand. It was almost like casting a spell. Just different. Almost like finishing a complicated spell. Directing the magic. The power. Even if that was just a mental construct, it helped.
When he opened his eyes, the tip of his wand was shining brightly and he felt tired. He threw his head back and balled his left hand into a fist. "Yes! Yes! YES!"
"Indeed. Well done, Harry." Dumbledore was beaming at him. "You have taken a step that few ever manage."
Harry nodded. "It was easy, once I could visualise it." Occlumency had helped him a lot. It was all in the details.
"That is the most important step. Most of the limits of magic are actually the limits of our imagination. It is hard to do something if you think it is impossible." Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, most wizards and witches have a rather limited imagination. Few have a vision that goes beyond the familiar. And many of those who do abandon their dreams as soon as they encounter the first obstacles."
"Well, knowing that there's a Dark Lord out there who wants to murder me helps a lot in focusing the mind," Harry said. "Maybe more people should try that?"
Dumbledore laughed, briefly. "Alas, most people would either be too afraid to do anything in your position or would try to ignore the threat." He shook his head. "But I digress again. Let us ensure that you have mastered this feat before we proceed to the next step."
Harry grimaced, but waved his wand in the now all too familiar pattern, rearranging the ritual circle. At least he would never, ever have to brew a Pepper-Up Potion again - he could do this ritual in his sleep now. Which certainly helped when he had had a late snogging session with Romilda.
*****
London, Diagon Alley, November 11th, 1996
Hermione Granger guided her broom towards the roof below her without worrying much about being spotted - between her Disillusionment Charm and the black-painted shaft of her broomstick, she was all but invisible in the dark night of the new moon. Besides, she would be out of the range of any Human-presence-revealing Spells anyway, unless they were cast by someone right outside the building below her. And this wasn't Knockturn Alley, where such guards might be expected - even in the current cold weather.
She stopped her broom right next to the chimney. The house was old, but the wards were new - Mr Fletcher had said there had been an attack by Death Eaters during the last war that had left the building's original owners dead and the wards torn down. The new owner, a Heathcliff Selwyn, who was suspected to work for the Dark Lord, hadn't spent much gold on the house, and so his new wards were rather weak and directly anchored to the walls. It didn't take her long to go through them. When she dismounted, her soft boots didn't make any sound on the shingled roof. She left her broom hovering next to her and looked around.
From up here, she could see the entrance and part of Knockturn Alley. It looked far less daunting than on the ground below. The few lights made it almost look pittoresque, as Jeanne would say - Hermione was picking up more French words than she had thought. Few would be able to tell that there was a war being waged in the Alley. A war between thugs and Death Eaters. A war which she had helped start. She shook her head - she had a mission and no time for wool-gathering.
Even if it was an easy mission. Kneeling down, she studied the roof. She was at the right spot, according to Mr Fletcher. Right above the mark's flat. A jab of her wand drilled a hole in a shingle that had darkened with age. She waited a moment, tapping her mask to enhance her hearing, but she couldn't hear anything suspicious. Nodding, she pulled out a small vial, unstoppered it and let the contents - small artificial bugs that would record all words said nearby - slide into the hole.
A quick Mending Charm resealed the hole, leaving no trace of hole or bugs.
Mission accomplished.
*****
Hogwarts, December 12th, 1996
Compared to mastering a simple ritual and then altering it, this was torture, Harry Potter thought as he once again tried to find whatever power his mum had left him as protection. Only he had no clue how and where it was supposed to be. Unlike with the ritual, he couldn't feel any change. He couldn't feel anything in his body that felt as if it didn't belong. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to imagine the 'blood protection'. To no avail.
Sighing, he slumped in his seat. "It's no use. I can't find any trace of this supposed power." He looked at Dumbledore. "I'll need to see what you see thanks to your spell."
The Headmaster stroked his beard. "I fear you might be correct. I do not think I can teach you this particular spell in the time we have left, however. It is very complicated, and it took me quite a while to learn it."
Harry muttered a curse under his breath. If Dumbledore took so long, he might as well give up.
"Although there is an alternative."
Harry looked up. "Yes?" Anything.
"I can enter your mind and show you, but that is a rather dangerous course of action. We both will have to maintain perfect mental discipline, or the effects could be… uncontrollable."
"What about showing me the memory?" Harry asked.
"That would not work - you would not see what I see, but what an observer would see." Dumbledore inclined his head. "A quirk of the magic involved, I think. No, I need to impart to you my own vision, so to speak. A very dangerous undertaking even for those who have mastered Occlumency. Many wizards have gone mad in the past when they tried and failed to do similar things - although most of them tried to transfer a skill." He looked at his familiar, and the phoenix leapt off his perch and landed on his shoulder.
Harry swallowed. That didn't sound good. If something went wrong… On the other hand, if he couldn't do this, Voldemort would win. He nodded. "Let's do it!"
Dumbledore smiled. "I think we should wait a day, and be well-rested before we attempt it."
Harry sighed, both relieved and disappointed. "Let's just hope that Voldemort doesn't make a move in the meantime."
"Ah… I do not think there's any danger of that happening. As much as I loathe saying it, I have to assume that my gambit has failed." Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, rubbing Fawke's head.
"He didn't take the bait?"
"No, he did not. I set up a fake Prophecy for a supporter of his, allowing him to enter the well-guarded place where they are stored, but Tom has not contacted the man at all. He is being more cautious than I expected."
That was really bad news, Harry thought. "So, what do we do then?"
"I have something in mind that he will not be able to ignore," Dumbledore said. His smile slipped a little. "Although since it will be very dangerous for those involved, you chief among them, he will not expect me to take such a risk." He sighed. "But sometimes, great risks must be taken, or all may be lost. After all, your protection will not last forever. Quite the contrary, in fact."
Harry swallowed again.
*****
