Chapter 20: Future Prospects
Longford, Heathrow Airport, Britain, June 22nd, 1996
"Be safe and enjoy your holiday, Dad!"
Gabriel Granger's reply was interrupted by his little girl - not so little any more, he realised - hugging him. Hard. His little bookworm had become an athlete without him noticing! He knew she had been running each morning, but he hadn't thought much of it. He heard her sniffle as he held her, and barely refrained from saying 'there, there'.
Then she released him and launched herself at Ellen. "Mum! You too! Be safe as well!"
He smiled at his wife as she was trying to breathe, caught in their daughter's surprisingly strong grip. "We'll be safe, dear," he said. "As safe as you can be in a country founded by convicts and filled with the most venomous animals and plants known to mankind." And a country where foreign wizards disappeared, never to be seen again, according to what he had been told.
And, as he expected, his darling daughter released his wife to glare at him. "Dad! That sort of flippant remark not only ignores how wrong the practice of banishing so-called criminals was, even at the time, it's also incorrect. The country wasn't founded by convicts. In fact…"
He held up his hand to stop the lecture - Hermione was still overdoing her 'research' whenever she tackled a problem. "I know, dear. I was just kidding."
That earned him a pouty scowl that made her look several years younger. Adorable. Not that he would say that - Hermione still had some issues with her appearance, no matter how much she denied it. Otherwise she wouldn't always be wearing rather frumpy clothes, despite Ellen's efforts. He patted her shoulder instead. "We'll be fine."
She hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Yes." It sounded a little as if she was trying to convince herself, though. Then she hugged him again. Then Ellen. And then she tried to hug them both together. He was tempted to make a comment about staying in Britain if she was already missing them so much, but refrained. This was already very emotional.
"People are staring," Ellen whispered.
"Let them!" Hermione retorted.
"We're not the only ones," Gabriel pointed out, nodding towards a very loud group a little further away. They were the only ones flying first class, though. At least he thought so. First class… Mr Black was proving to be even more generous than expected.
Gabriel wasn't quite comfortable with that. Hermione claimed that there was nothing behind the man's actions other than a willingness to help his godson's best friend and his trusted secretary, but he couldn't help fearing that, one day, their benefactor would call in the favours owed to him.
Well, he thought, watching Hermione deal with the staff at the check-in desk, Mr Black would find out that their headstrong daughter wasn't easily manipulated. If he wasn't already aware of it, of course - Hermione certainly had complained about his 'lazy attitude' often enough, and Gabriel had had the impression that she didn't hide her annoyance from Mr Black either.
He watched their suitcases disappear on the conveyor belt and turned to Hermione again. His little girl. "So, that's it." He forced himself to smile. No need to make it harder than it already was. "We're off to sunny Australia."
"It's actually winter there now, so it'll be colder than you expect," Hermione said.
"We know, dear," Ellen cut in. His wife's smile was forced as well, he could tell.
Hermione nodded and bit her lower lip. "I'll write you and call, as often as I can."
Which, Gabriel was all too aware, wouldn't be that often. Not with that maniac trying to kill her and her friends. He felt the by now very familiar rage well up inside him. Rage against this 'Voldemort' and his followers for their bigotry and cruelty. And against himself, for being powerless to protect his daughter and wife.
They hugged again while he struggled with his rage. He managed to smile at her as they left her standing at the gate. But he still didn't feel any better by the time they entered the lounge where they would be waiting for boarding to start. And no amount of free drinks would change that. "We're leaving her in danger," he muttered as he sank into a leather seat in the lounge.
"We've talked about this," Ellen whispered.
They had. At length. Hermione hadn't let up until they had given in. He understood the reasons for their trip. That didn't mean he was happy about it. "We should have taken her with us," he whispered.
"She wouldn't have let us," Ellen replied.
He glanced at her. She was smiling sadly at him. He sighed. His wife was correct - Hermione wouldn't have let them take her out of the country. She was too stubborn for her own good. Too brave, too. Unlike her cowardly parents. And, it went without saying, they couldn't have forced her, even if they had wanted to.
Ellen elbowed him in the side. "Stop feeling guilty. It's not your fault."
"I know," he whispered back. And he did. But that didn't make it any easier to leave his little girl behind.
And that he couldn't help thinking that she wouldn't have let them stay in Britain even if they hadn't agreed to leave was no comfort either.
*****
Hogwarts, June 22nd, 1996
Watching Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore prepare the ritual that would counter the blood curse on Remus and himself, Harry Potter felt like tapping his foot. He didn't, of course - that would have been immature. Ungrateful as well - just because the Headmaster had found a counter-curse didn't mean he could expect to be cured immediately.
But it had been a very long week between Dumbledore's announcement and this evening. And not just because of the anticipation or the studying for the O.W.L.s. No, he could handle that. But dealing with his break-up with Ginny… He shook his head. It was hard enough to see her each day in the common room and the Great Hall. But to watch her talking with Parvati and the other girls, then glance at him, knowing they were talking about him, was worse. It wasn't his fault that Ginny couldn't understand that he didn't have much free time and wouldn't neglect all his friends for her! And she could at least be miserable, too!
"It'll work, mate, this is Dumbledore."
Harry turned his head to look at Ron, who must have misunderstood his expression. Harry almost corrected him - he wasn't afraid, nor did he doubt the Headmaster - but decided against it. Ron had stood by him during the breakup, but it wouldn't be fair to drag him into Harry's issues with Ginny. So he nodded. "Yes."
"Besides, they're trying it on Remus first," Ron added.
Remus had insisted on that, Harry knew, and everyone had ignored his own protests. It made sense, of course - the ritual wasn't designed to cure two people at the same time - but it made him feel guilty anyway. Harry should have been first since Remus had only been cursed because he had been guarding him.
He didn't want to dwell on any of this, so he nodded at Ron and then watched the preparations to distract himself. Dumbledore had a ritual circle, as the pattern formed by the silver runic etchings covering most of the polished stone floor was called, already prepared, but they still needed to place candles and censers at the right spots on its edge. Remus was doing that. Sirius was levitating a brass cauldron into the centre of the circle - it was large enough for someone to sit in it.
Someone would be sitting in it, Harry realised when Remus started to strip down. Which meant Harry would have to do the same afterward. He winced, then blinked.
"Oh…" Ron trailed off.
Harry knew why - he, too, was staring at Remus's scars. The man had a lot of them. Gruesome ones. His arms and parts of his chest were covered by claw marks and bite marks, by the looks of it - not that Harry was an expert. But he couldn't imagine anything else causing such wounds. "And I thought my scar was bad," he mumbled.
Remus shot them a hurt glance, and Harry looked away, cursing himself for embarrassing the other wizard. And himself.
"I think you better leave the room," Dumbledore spoke up. "If anything does not go as planned, you'll be safe outside."
Harry nodded, not feeling like protesting any more, and left with Ron.
Outside, he sighed and leaned against the wall, then slid down to sit on the ground. "Damn."
"Yeah. I didn't know it was that bad. He probably has more scars than Moody," Ron agreed. "More scars than Charlie's boss, even. That he survived so many cursed wounds…"
"Werewolves are tough. If he got them while he was changed…" Harry blinked. "Although the wounds would carry over." They had covered that in Care of Magical Creatures. And Defence.
"Yeah." Ron sat down as well. "How long will it take?"
"About an hour, or so Dumbledore said," Harry answered. He remembered what the Headmaster had told him about rituals, how they took longer but made it easier to cast complicated spells.
"So long? Must be a hell of a ritual." Ron knew as well as Harry did that it was likely a blood magic ritual. Banned in Britain, and highly illegal.
"They might simply be being as careful as possible," Harry said. "It's a new ritual." For them, anyway.
Ron snorted, but didn't contradict him.
After about a minute, Harry was sick of the silence. "Let's quizz each other," he said. "Name all of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."
"You sound as if you were already living with Hermione," Ron said, chuckling. Then he grew serious. "I still can't understand how she could send her parents to
Australia," he added with a visible shiver.
"They're muggles. They'll be safe. Thousands of muggles travel to Australia. Millions live there," Harry said.
"Mate, you don't understand. Entire Hit-Wizard companies vanished there, last century. Even the Dark Lord is probably afraid of travelling there."
"Which is why the Grangers are going there," Harry pointed out. He wasn't certain if he believed all the stories he had heard - many sounded too far-fetched to him - but as long as Voldemort's followers believed them, it would be alright. He didn't think Voldemort himself would bother travelling that far to hunt two muggles.
Ron didn't answer; he just snorted.
Harry shrugged. "Anyway, the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law?" he prompted his friend.
Ron sighed, but started to list them. "Food cannot be conjured, it can only be multiplied and…"
*****
Over an hour and a half later, it was his turn to sit in the cauldron, covered in blood. Sticky blood that wouldn't dry over time, as he found out. The smell of it, even worse when mixed with the smoke wafting through the air from the censers, almost made him puke. Which would be bad.
The ritual worked, he told himself. He had seen Remus when the Headmaster had called him in, cleaned and clothed, but asleep. But Sirius had assured him that his friend was fine. So Harry should be fine as well. In theory - Dumbledore had said that the ritual might be painful.
Harry didn't think that anyone would be feeling fine in his place, anyway. Not when sitting naked in a cauldron slowly filling with blood, and with Dumbledore chanting words Harry couldn't understand but which made his scar hurt with each syllable.
How exactly had Remus passed out?, Harry wondered as his headache grew stronger. It was pulsing now. His scar might even be bleeding, he thought - not that anyone would notice, what with blood covering his entire face and dripping on his chest.
He clenched his teeth. He wanted this cure; he could endure this. He had to endure this, or he would be stuck drinking a potion every day for the rest of his life. A potion made by Snape.
He snarled, focusing on his anger. He wouldn't give that git the satisfaction of owing him so much! No matter how much this hurt.
Dumbledore finished another chant, and the scar in Harry's forehead seemed to be on fire, the pain was that bad. Harry ground his teeth so hard he feared they'd crack and splinter, but it didn't help; the pain grew worse. He dug his nails into his thighs - anything to take the edge off the agonising pain in his forehead. He was panting, too, no longer bothered by the stench of blood. How much longer would he have to suffer this?
He almost didn't notice when Dumbledore finished chanting. He didn't see the Headmaster freeze, his wand pointed at Harry.
But he certainly felt the agony filling him right after Dumbledore completed the ritual, and, just before he lost consciousness, he felt as if his scar was searing his skull.
*****
He woke up, not in the infirmary, as he had expected, but in Dumbledore's quarters. Or so he thought - without his glasses, his vision was rather blurry, but it definitely wasn't the infirmary. He had his wand, though, and he was wearing clothes, he noticed. A quick Summoning Charm later, he had his glasses as well. Yes, his first guess had been correct. Dumbledore's quarters, probably in a conjured bed.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
He turned his head. Sirius was there, too, sitting in Harry's usual seat. He should have expected that.
"Harry?"
He blinked. "Sorry… I feel… fine." He slowly reached up and gingerly touched his scar. It didn't hurt. Much. Sore, and raw, he thought. It had bled recently, too - there were smudges of dried blood on his fingertips when he lifted them away from his forehead.
Sirius looked relieved. "We were worried when you collapsed."
"Did it work?" Harry asked. That was all that mattered, after all. "Is the curse gone?"
His godfather smiled. "Yes. No trace of it is left. Neither on you nor on Remus."
Harry smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. It was done. He wasn't cursed any more. His life didn't depend on Snape's potion any longer. He slowly let out a breath. "Good."
"It's great," Sirius said, beaming at him.
Harry nodded. "Was the ritual meant to be so painful, though?" he asked.
Sirius shook his head. "No. Remus said that it sapped his strength, but that there wasn't much pain."
Harry considered that for a moment. His scar had made the difference, then. "So… is this connection the result of blood magic, and did it react with the ritual?" He remembered something about similar spells influencing each other from his Charms revision a week ago.
"That is quite possible."
Harry whipped his head around. He hadn't noticed the Headmaster until the man had spoken. Dumbledore was standing near the door. Had he been there all along, or had he just entered? He focused on the problem at hand. "Sir? What happened?"
"I cannot say for certain yet." Dumbledore smiled faintly and spread his hands. "While Voldemort is currently researching blood magic, I do not think that he used any such spell against you when he attacked you in 1981."
"But…" Harry drew a hissing breath. "Why's my scar reacting like this, then? Is he using blood magic to affect it through our connection?" If Voldemort was aware of their connection...
"That is a possible and worrisome explanation. However, I need to do further research to determine whether or not it is true."
"What else could explain it, though?" Harry asked, scoffing. "Who else would be using blood magic on me?" He caught Dumbledore and Sirius exchanging a glance. "You expected this," he said. Dumbledore slowly nodded. Harry shook his head. "You don't mean…" His mother wouldn't have done this. She wouldn't have.
Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Lily was an exceptionally talented witch, and she would have done anything to protect you."
*****
Hogwarts, June 27th, 1996
The waiting was the worst part of the O.W.L.s, Harry Potter thought, shifting on the bench in the room next to the Defence classroom. Studying he could handle. The tests themselves as well - Charms had been easy, at least the practical parts. The same with Transfiguration. Herbology… well, he didn't think he had made a blunder, and, as Sirius was fond of saying, no one other than those growing potion ingredients cared about Herbology anyway. But waiting… he hated waiting. It made him think. About his parents. His mother. What she had done.
He tried to distract himself by focusing on his Defence exam, which would be starting in a few minutes. He would have to demonstrate a Shield Charm, a Disarming Charm and a Stunner to pass. Child's play - he and Ron had mastered those spells more than a year ago. And the written part this morning… He scoffed. He had finished twenty minutes early. After his training with Moody, he probably knew more about the dangers of the Dark Arts than the examiners. And about blood magic.
He clenched his teeth. He didn't want to think about blood magic. He had almost died because of that vampire's curse. It had taken Dumbledore months to find a cure. Which, Harry strongly suspected, had required a blood magic ritual as well. At least there hadn't been a sacrifice. Or so he thought. Hoped.
Whatever his mum had done to protect him, on the other hand... Dumbledore hadn't gone into detail and Sirius had said it didn't matter since Harry was alive thanks to it, but he had learned enough about blood magic from Dumbledore's musings to know better. His mother had created a protection that worked against the Killing Curse and lasted until he was seventeen years old. Such a powerful spell would have required a sacrifice, and a ritual taking hours to complete.
He closed his eyes. He would rather think about Ginny than dwell on this - and he still felt a stab of pain in his chest whenever he saw his ex-girlfriend in the common room or the Hall. He suddenly snorted - for someone who had only been cured of a lethal curse a few days ago, he was feeling rather gloomy.
Then he noticed the door to the examination room opening, and shot up.
"Mister Potter?" A blonde witch in Auror robes smiled at him. "I'm Belinda Browtuckle. We're ready for your exam now."
"Good!" he blurted out.
Her smile grew. "Not many are so enthusiastic."
Not many had his problems. But that wasn't a topic he could mention to anyone except - maybe - his closest friends. So he shrugged. "Defence is my best subject."
She nodded as he passed her. Inside the room, the other two examiners, both wizards, were waiting, sitting behind their desks - conjured or transfigured, he thought; he hadn't seen those desks before at Hogwarts.
The oldest wizard spoke up. "Hello, Mr Potter. I'm Sebastian Selwyn." He wasn't smiling. His expression was closer to frowning, even. Not as bad as Snape's whenever the git saw Harry, but still…
"I'm Bilius Brown." The other wizard curtly nodded at him.
"Hello." Harry remained standing as Browtuckle took her own seat.
"You're here for your practical exam in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It's two o'clock now. Let's start. Please produce the best Shield Charm you can, Mr Potter." Selwyn sounded almost bored, and rather patronising too.
Harry couldn't resist. "What do you mean by 'best', sir? Strongest, fastest casting, or maybe silently cast? Anyone of those could be the best choice depending on the tactical situation," he quoted Moody.
"'Tactical situation'?" Selwyn scoffed. "Produce the strongest Shield Charm you can manage, Mr Potter. And don't try to sound like an Auror at your O.W.L. exam."
The man definitely didn't like him, Harry thought. But he had lived through five years of Snape, and Selwyn wasn't in the same league. He shrugged and raised his wand. "Protego!"
A shimmering field enveloped him as the three examiners peered at him. Browtuckle looked impressed. "Solid form and shape," she said while a dictaquill scribbled over parchment.
Brown didn't show any reaction. And Selwyn… Harry tensed when he saw the man snarl and draw his wand. "Testing. Stupefy!"
Harry had to force himself not to dive to the side, roll behind the closest desk and come up fighting when he caught Selwyn casting. This was a test, not an attack. The Stunner splashed against his shield, causing it to briefly flicker. Harry grinned.
"Withstood one Stunner without visible degradation," Browtuckle noted. Harry's grin widened.
"Stupefy. Stupefy."
Two more Stunners hit Harry's shield, shattering it. He saw Selwyn was still casting, and jumped to the side, casting another Shield Charm as the man's fourth Stunner missed him. Harry's own didn't miss, and the wizard dropped to the ground.
"Don't…" Browtuckle, who had raised her hand, apparently trying to stop her colleague, was gaping at Harry and even Brown looked surprised.
Harry winced. "Sorry. When I noticed that he was still casting even after my shield went down, I simply reacted."
Brown frowned at him. "That was quite an overreaction, Mr Potter. My colleague wasn't about to harm you." He pointed his wand at the wizard on the ground. "Rennervate."
"You can't assume that," Harry shot back as Selwyn groaned on the floor. "Only a fool would let a stranger stun them without any backup."
"Mad-Eye would love you," Browtuckle muttered.
Harry grinned. "He said I'd make a decent Auror."
Her eyes widened. "Did he train you?"
He probably shouldn't have mentioned that, but what was done was done. Harry nodded. "Yes, he gave me a few lessons after I was attacked at the start of the year."
"Merlin's beard," he heard her curse.
"You! You attacked me!" Selwyn had recovered his wits.
"Sorry, sir. I saw you casting at me after my shield had been shattered, and, well, my reflexes took over." Harry shrugged. "Constant Vigilance, you know."
Apparently, Selwyn didn't like Moody either. But he didn't even try to raise his wand in Harry's direction for the rest of the exam.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, July 6th, 1996
"You stunned an examiner?"
Hermione didn't need to yell, Harry Potter thought, wincing at the volume of his best female friend. "It was a reflex - and he tried to stun me first," he defended himself, grabbing another finger sandwich from the plate Kreacher had put down in the living room. Answering her questions about his O.W.L. exams was hungry work.
"'Reflex'," Hermione said, shaking her head. She had put her pen down, too, Harry noted. And she had fed her monster cat a sandwich, too! No wonder the thing thought that all food was his!
"I knew having Moody train Harry was a good idea!" Sirius chimed in, chuckling. "Not even we did that, did we, Remus?" He didn't sound as if he was asking a rhetorical question, though, Harry thought.
"No, we didn't," Remus confirmed. "But you probably would have tried, if given the chance."
"What if he fails you for it?" Hermione cut in.
Harry scoffed. "I'd like to see him try. I passed all their tests with flying colours, and as I said: He tried to stun me first. It's his own fault."
She pressed her lips together before answering. "That may be true, but the truth doesn't always factor into the Ministry's decisions."
Harry winced again as Sirius nodded. "Very true. But in this case, I doubt that Selwyn would dare to treat Harry unjustly - not with two witnesses, one of them an Auror, and with Dumbledore known to take an interest in the exams." Harry's godfather grinned, showing his teeth. "I remember my parents complaining about him putting a stop to the 'selective grading' that had been going on before he became Headmaster. Muggleborn grades jumped that year, or so I've been told."
Hermione looked relieved.
Harry grinned. "And I don't think he wants to announce that he was stunned by a student."
"That, too," Sirius agreed. "Although the story has spread anyway - Tonks heard from another Auror."
Harry sighed. "Sorry. I didn't think to keep my training secret." It had felt too good to show off.
Sirius waved his concerns off. "Don't worry. People already knew that you were receiving special training."
"They didn't know who trained you, though," Hermione pointed out.
Sirius shook his head. "Voldemort wouldn't have underestimated you anyway. Not after the vampire attack."
Harry saw Hermione frown at Sirius before she looked at him again. "But his followers might have underestimated you."
"Hey now! They knew we were training him!" Sirius sounded affronted.
"We're not Moody," Remus said, smiling wryly.
"Which is a very good thing!" Sirius shuddered. "I wouldn't have half the success with witches if I looked like Moody."
"I remember you telling me that witches found scars attractive," Remus said.
"That is true. Sexy scars - like yours. Or Harry's." Sirius nodded at them. "But missing half your nose, a leg and an eye… That's too much." He blinked. "Or too little?"
"Irrelevant. Let's go back to talking about the O.W.L. exams," Hermione said, picking up her pen.
"You mean back to interrogating me," Harry corrected her with a grin.
She ignored his quip. "That was Defence. Now, Potions was your next exam, right?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am!"
She didn't find that funny, either. Unlike Sirius. Sighing, Harry started to tell her about his Potions exam.
*****
"Isn't this cheating?"
"What?" Hermione Granger looked up from her notes and stared at her best friend. They were alone in the living room - Sirius and Mr Lupin were meeting Dumbledore at Hogwarts. And Crookshanks had gone off to explore his new home.
"You know, grilling me about the exams," Harry said.
She scoffed. "Certainly not. The O.W.L. tests for home-schooled students are different precisely to prevent such cheating."
He blinked. "But if the exams are different, why did you have me talk about them for an hour?"
"The requirements to pass are the same for everyone, so there have to be some basic similarities." That was obvious.
"Ah." He sounded rather grumpy for a boy who had been cured of a lethal, if delayed, curse a few days ago, and who had already taken his O.W.L. exams and could therefore relax - unlike her.
"Besides, it was just an hour," she pointed out. "You wouldn't mind spending an hour to help me revise, would you?" He better not! He was done with school for the summer, after all.
"Of course not," Harry said at once.
"Good!" She beamed at him. "I need some help with Potions."
"You…"
He shook his head at her, and she grinned. She didn't feel guilty for taking advantage of him - it wasn't as if he couldn't spare the time.
"Where's 'Jeanne', anyway?" he asked. "Not that I'm missing her."
"She's visiting her father. Apparently, it's 'a family tradition to welcome family members returning from Hogwarts with a family gathering'," Hermione quoted the other witch.
"That's a lot of 'family'," Harry commented.
Hermione shrugged. "It's an Old Family."
"Speaking of…" Harry looked around, probably checking that Sirius and Remus hadn't yet returned. "Did you find out anything about Jeanne?"
"Other than more than I ever wanted to know about what she does with Sirius in the bedroom?" Hermione asked as sweetly as she could manage.
"Yes."
Harry wasn't fazed. Drat. She shrugged. "No. She hasn't done anything suspicious in my presence." And Hermione had been too busy to do anything more… sneaky.
He sighed and muttered what was likely a curse under his breath. "I guess I'll have to hope that she'll let something slip during the holidays."
"Provided that she does have such plans," Hermione pointed out.
"Better safe than sorry," he retorted. "Can't be too cautious."
Moody had a lot to answer for, Hermione thought. "Actually, yes, you can be too cautious. Or too suspicious."
Harry frowned at her. "You know what I mean."
"Yes. Which is why I said it." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. "I know and understand your suspicions. I do, really. I'm just pointing out that Jeanne might be innocent - at least of what you fear her to be planning."
He leaned back on his chair and sighed again. "I just don't want her to break Sirius's heart."
Hermione bit her lower lip. She wasn't certain if she should ask, but… this was a good opportunity, maybe the last before she would be busy with her own exams. "Is this because you and Ginny broke up?"
His head snapped up. "You know?"
She nodded. "Ron told me, in case I wanted to visit The Burrow."
"Ah." She saw his shoulders sag as he looked down at the table.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked. She wasn't certain that she wanted to talk about it, but Harry looked as if he needed to.
"I guess so… you're a girl, after all. Maybe you can understand her."
She pressed her lips together. Of course she was a girl! "What happened?"
He sighed. He was doing a lot of that today, it seemed. "She was acting like Parvati. Wanting me to pick her over my friends. To spend time with her alone - and not just snogging, you know. I told her that I didn't have the time for that, not without neglecting my friends." He was shaking his head as he talked. "I told her that we could snog when alone, and spend the rest of my free time with our friends. Play Quidditch, for example. Or hang out in the common room. That way, I wouldn't have to neglect anyone."
Hermione winced and spoke up before he could continue. "Let me guess: She told you that she didn't want to be with you just for snogging?"
He stared at her, then nodded. "About that, yes. How did you know?"
She took a deep breath. "Because that's what I would have said in her place."
"What?" He gaped. "But you're…" he made a helpless gesture with his hand. "You're not like Parvati!"
"And neither is Ginny." He was clueless, Hermione thought. Probably the dog's fault. "No girl likes to feel that a boy just wants to snog with her, and nothing else." Although no girl liked to know that a boy didn't want to snog her, either. But that was another problem.
"But we were doing other things together!" Harry protested. "Just with our friends, too."
She sighed. "That's not the same. A girl wants to feel special. We don't want to be just a friend who you snog in private."
"But isn't that exactly what Parvati did?"
She frowned. "No. Parvati didn't want you to spend any time with friends, especially not with me, because she was jealous. Ginny wasn't jealous." At least Hermione didn't think she was. "But she was probably afraid that you took her for granted, and only wanted to be with her to snog her."
He scoffed. "But in the end, she wanted me to stop spending time with my friends and instead spend the time with her alone. Like Parvati!"
Hermione rubbed her forehead. "Yes, that may be what it sounded like, but her motivation was - probably - very different. And you could have compromised and spent a little less time with your friends, and a little more with her."
Harry frowned. "I tried. But that doesn't change the fact that she, too, wanted me to choose between my friends and her. And that's something I won't do!" He shook his head emphatically.
Hermione wasn't certain if she should feel happy about his declaration. One the one hand, she loved knowing that Harry wouldn't cast her aside for a witch to snog. On the other hand, if she were ever to…
She buried that thought.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, July 12th, 1996
"Miss Granger." Mrs Cadwaulder barely bothered to nod at her before turning around.
"Yes," Hermione Granger replied to the woman's back. The witch had been acting noticeably cold towards her all week. Hermione didn't know whether this was due to her unjust conviction, the Prophet painting her as a gold-digger, or because she was a muggleborn. Probably all of it, she thought - the woman had been all but glaring at her during the four days spent on the written exams.
"Miss Granger?" An old wizard asked, blinking at her over his half-moon glasses.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm Cedric Fawley. This is Mr Steinmark. You already know Mrs Cadwaulder." His voice sounded as old as he looked, and he was reading his text off of a sheet of parchment. "You're here for the practical parts of your O.W.L. exams. We'll be starting with Charms, followed by Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and finally Potions." He looked up and blinked at her. "That's quite a large number of subjects for a home-schooled witch. Particularly a muggleborn witch."
"I had an excellent private tutor," Hermione said.
She heard Steinmark scoff and a quick glance showed her that he was barely hiding his sneer. And Mrs Cadwaulder's smile wouldn't have looked out of place on a pouncing harpy. Hermione had expected that, though. She made a show of blinking. "Ah!" She raised her right index finger and smiled as innocently as she could. "I almost forget. Headmaster Dumbledore said he was interested in seeing how the home-schooled students fared and asked me for a copy of my memories of my exams. He said to let you know."
Seeing the expressions of the three examiners - Steinmark's scowl was worse than Snape's and Cadwaulder looked as if she had bitten into a particularly flavourful Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Bean while Fawley was blinking even more - made it really hard for her not to smirk.
These three wouldn't be able to do a little favour for Malfoy and his cronies.
*****
Hermione Granger lowered her wand slowly as the last animated pea jumped into the tin can. Another perfectly cast charm. Not that any of the examiners would comment on it, though.
"Now demonstrate a Cleaning Charm."
She almost rolled her eyes. Why were the examiners so fixated on household charms? She cast the charm anyway, of course - and with style, at least in her opinion, vanishing all the soap suds covering the floor with a flick of her wand after the Cleaning Charm was done. She longed to demonstrate that she had mastered a cleaning charm that worked far better, and without soap, but that would have been advertising that she was capable of erasing any trace she left on a heist.
"Ah… that was a Vanishing Charm, wasn't it? Silently cast?" Fawley was squinting at her.
Hermione nodded. "Yes."
"That's very advanced," Steinmark commented.
She forced herself to smile. "My tutor had me vanish all my failed conjurations each day."
"Ah!" Fawley laughed. "A very good way to learn a spell." Then he broke into a cough that lasted for a minute while everyone pretended not to notice.
"I think that covers Charms," Fawley finally managed to say after he had taken a swig from a vial. "Now, Transfiguration." He swished his wand, and a tea cup appeared on the table in front of him. "Please transfigure this into a rat."
A rat! Hermione pressed her lips together as she did as ordered and turned a nice piece of fine china into vermin. At least her rat was clean, and not filthy like normal rats. She still wanted to blast it off the table, though.
"Silently cast again," Steinmark noted.
"It's a basic second year spell," Hermione said.
"I see." The wizard stared at her. She met his eyes with a smile.
*****
"That's quite an unusual reaction." Fawley had removed his reading glasses and was staring at the Crup, which was barking madly in its cage.
Hermione Granger glared at the dumb canine. The thing should know better than to annoy a witch - or a cat.
"They usually only act like this towards muggles," Steinmark said. His raised eyebrow left no doubt about his words' implication.
Another reason to put the thing out of its misery, Hermione thought. And perhaps the bigoted examiner too, for good measure. "It probably smells my cat. I have a half-kneazle familiar," she said with a toothy smile.
"That could be it," Fawley said. "Although this presents us with a dilemma." He coughed for a few seconds. "You obviously can't demonstrate how to handle the animal if it's acting in such a hostile manner."
Hermione smiled and twirled her wand. "I'm perfectly capable of handling an aggressive Category XXX animal."
Steinmark scoffed, no doubt thinking of her less than stellar - by design, of course - performance in Defence. But Fawley nodded. "Please do so."
It didn't take her long to teach the Crup to stop bothering cats. If only that would work on Sirius, too!
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, July 13th, 1996
Harry Potter only stumbled a little after Sirius had side-along-apparated him to the backyard of Grimmauld Place - he was making progress. Of course, doing this twice every day for weeks would help anyone make progress. "I should travel more often by Floo," he said as his godfather used his wand to open the back door. He still couldn't manage to step through a fireplace as gracefully as Sirius. Even Hermione was better at it.
"It's not as safe as Apparition," Sirius said. "We've got people at the Ministry keeping an eye on the Floo Network to guard against sabotage, but it would be too dangerous to hook up the Dursleys' fireplace - people could find their address."
And Uncle Vernon would probably have a heart-attack, Harry though. "I didn't mean to travel to Privet Drive," he said, "I just meant in general - I could use the practice."
"You haven't been visiting The Burrow as often as last summer," Sirius said as they entered the kitchen.
"Yes." Harry pressed his lips together. There was no need to discuss Ginny. They were over, and he didn't want to see her every day.
Sirius made a noise that sounded like a mix between a grunt and a sigh, but didn't press the issue. As usual, Kreacher had prepared breakfast already, despite the early hour.
"Where's Remus?" Harry asked. There was no need to ask where Hermione was; his best female friend used to sleep in whenever she could - and stayed up far too late, her nose buried in books. And Jeanne didn't get up before nine as a rule.
"Still asleep. He had a long night," Sirius said. Which meant Order business, Harry knew. And which he wouldn't be told about.
He felt claws lightly dig into his pants and looked down. Crookshanks gazed up at him with a familiar expression. Harry sighed. "Why are you always bothering me?" he asked as he used his spare wand to summon cat food. "You never bother Sirius or Remus."
"Because you always feed the not so little monster when he begs," Sirius said.
"If I don't feed him he'll shred my shoes again." And no matter what Hermione claimed, 'just use a Mending Charm' wasn't the answer.
Sirius snorted. "Cats can sense weakness, and he can sense that you're the weakest link in the household."
"Hermione's the crazy cat lady, not me," Harry said.
"But she knows enough about cats to understand that giving in to their every whim is bad for them," Sirius said, grinning at him over the Saturday issue of the Daily Prophet.
"And not catering to their every whim is bad for me," Harry retorted. He wasn't about to endanger himself to teach Crookshanks manners. Or the stray that Hermione insisted wasn't hers - even Crookshanks deferred to that cat, and Harry had seen what Crookshanks did to other cats invading his territory back at the Grangers'.
"What would Moody say about you being afraid of cats?" Sirius grinned at him.
"I'm not afraid. I'm just cautious." Harry finished his first croissant. "You never know if it's an animagus." Like Pettigrew.
Sirius coughed - he must have gotten tea down the wrong pipe. "I don't think you could placate an animagus with food," he said after clearing his throat. "But you can rest assured that I checked before I allowed strange cats into our home."
He would have, of course, and thoroughly, Harry thought as he nodded - Sirius knew best how dangerous animagi were. "Good."
"Of course, not all animagi are a threat," Sirius went on. "Although McGonagall definitely is a threat if you anger her." He was slowly nodding with a long-suffering expression.
"I'm not planning on angering her," Harry said. "And I know what her form looks like."
"But offering her catnip would be a laugh!" Sirius said, chuckling. "Imagine her reaction!"
"No catnip," Harry quickly cut in. "Hermione said that there would be hell to pay if 'any poor cat gets drugged in this house'." He shook his head. "She's really overprotective of the animals - if it were harmful to them, pet shops wouldn't sell it."
Sirius shrugged. "She probably simply doesn't want to deal with a drugged cat."
Harry snorted. "'Nothing a Mending Charm - or an Episkey - can't fix'," he imitated her.
Sirius nodded. "Rather callous, if you ask me." He took a deep breath. "But, speaking of animagi, there's something I…" Kreacher's arrival interrupted him before he could finish.
"Post for Master's godson and guests," the elf said, dropping a pair of envelopes on the table.
"The O.W.L. results!" Harry grabbed the envelopes at once, dropping Hermione's before staring at his. This was it. He took a deep breath, held it, then opened the letter. He sighed as soon as he saw the results.
"What did you get? What did you get?" Sirius asked, leaning in with an eager expression.
"An Outstanding in Defence," Harry replied.
"I expected that," Sirius said with a grin. "After all, I trained you. And the rest?"
"Exceeds Expectations in Charms, Transfigurations, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions and Herbology. Acceptables in History, Astronomy and Divination." Apparently, the examiners really weren't as easily fooled as Trelawney.
"That's great!" Sirius exclaimed.
Harry smiled. "But the best thing is I'll be able to take my N.E.W.T. in Potions!" And Moody wouldn't kill him.
Sirius blinked. "You want to spend two more years with the git?"
Harry frowned. "I don't want to, but I'll need a N.E.W.T. in Potions to become an Auror."
"You want to become an Auror?" Sirius stared at him as if that was a surprise. Hadn't he heard that Moody had said Harry would make a good Auror? His godfather was rather slow today. Probably stayed up too long with Jeanne.
"Yes," Harry said. "I'm already basically being trained as an Auror, remember? Moody said I'd be good at it, and that the Ministry needs all the good Aurors they can get." He smiled widely. He wouldn't let people like the Malfoys escape justice - or frame others. He'd clean up the system.
"Moody's training you in Defence," Sirius pointed out, still looking slightly surprised.
"And in spotting threats, and traps," Harry said. "I'll have to learn the procedures, but that's not as important." Moody had said so, and he had been training Aurors for years. "But you were about to tell me something…?"
"Nothing," Sirius said in an offhand manner. "Just an anecdote." He pointed at the other envelope on the table. "Besides, we need to wake Hermione. She'll want to see her results."
"Yes." Harry grabbed the envelope. "I'll get her."
*****
"Hermione?" Harry Potter asked, knocking on her door. No answer. "Hermione?" he repeated, louder. She might have used a Silencing Charm on the door, he thought. He could simply stick the envelope to the door or slide it through the cat-flap she had installed and go back to the kitchen… but he was certain that she would want to see her results as soon as possible.
"Hermione, the O.W.L. results arrived!" he called. Still no answer. He took a deep breath and tried to open the door. It wasn't locked. She wouldn't have left it unlocked if she didn't want anyone to enter, he told himself as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Sirius had extended her room after she had moved in full-time, and, as expected, most of the additional space was taken up by bookshelves.
He grinned until his gaze fell on the bed. Then he stared. Hermione, still asleep, lay sprawled on her bed, her sheets kicked to the side, with her arms and legs wrapped around her pillow. Her bare arms and legs, he noted - she was wearing a thin T-shirt and equally thin shorts that didn't hide much, especially as her T-shirt had slid up, revealing her midriff. Her hair hid most of her face, but he could see her mouth, lips slightly parted.
Her body was toned, he realised - her muscles were on a par with those of the girls in the Quidditch team; thanks to their shared locker room he could easily make the comparison. And her chest seemed larger than he had expected as well, although it was hard to tell without using his glasses' enchantment… He swallowed. He shouldn't be staring at her! It was wrong. He still stared, though.
And he couldn't wake her up like this. She would be terribly embarrassed. He would be terribly embarrassed. He turned away. Best to wake her up while hiding behind the door, so she could slip on her bathrobe or something.
He turned away, then froze. Crookshanks was padding towards the bed - the cat must have followed him and Harry hadn't noticed! Moody would curse his hide for such a lapse! He stopped berating himself, though, when he realised where Crookshanks was heading: straight towards his sleeping owner.
For such a massive cat Crookshanks was far too quick when he made the effort, and before Harry could react, the tomcat had leaped on to the bed - and on to Hermione.
*****
Hermione Granger was rudely woken up in the middle of a pleasant dream, involving a library, stacks of rare books that needed to be read and a handsome assistant whose face she couldn't quite remember, by a sudden weight slamming into her side.
"Ooof!" She rolled on to her back while her pet slid off of her. "Crookshanks! Did they forget to feed you again?" she asked, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. Then she noticed Harry standing there, in the middle of the room, staring at her and Crookshanks. "Harry?"
He blinked, then held up an envelope. "Ah. I brought your O.W.L. results!"
She froze for a moment, then leaped out of the bed as if she was pouncing on a stupid dog trying to escape its justified chastisement. Her O.W.L.s! She barely noticed Harry taking a few steps back as she grabbed the envelope. A second later, she had ripped it open - without even using claws! Then she unfolded the letter. And winced.
"Hermione?"
She had known that she wouldn't excel in all her subjects. Certainly not in Muggle Studies and History of Magic, which she hadn't actually studied, and had only crammed a few days for each. But she had still hoped she'd do better in History than 'Acceptable' - she had read the books, after all. But Muggle Studies…
"Hermione?"
"'Muggle Studies' is a farce!" she spat. "Apparently, half of the grade is knowing how wizards see muggles!" They must have done that to keep muggleborns from easily getting good grades. Or, perhaps, to stop them from correcting the Ministry answers.
"What grade did you get?"
"Acceptable," she answered. Then she winced again. "Same in Herbology… I thought I would reach Exceeds Expectations there, at least." But theory was only half the grade there, and she simply hadn't had the time or opportunity to study the actual plants.
"Oh."
She glanced at Harry. He was staring at her with a rather pitying expression. She didn't want his pity! "Exceeds Expectations in Potions." Take that, Snape! Claim she had no talent, would he? "Exceeds Expectations in Care of Magical Creatures." She had been lucky there that the bigots had chosen a Crup for the practical part - she knew how to deal with uppity dogs. But if it had been another animal… well, she was familiar with most guard animals. But still… she didn't like to depend on luck for her grades.
"That's good. And the others?"
"Hm?" She looked at Harry. "Outstandings in Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes." Though she had been lucky again with the last two, she knew - her knowledge was more specialised than good for a test.
"That's great!" She found herself in his arms, lifted off her feet. "Four Outstandings!"
Belatedly, she hugged him back, then winced. She hadn't freshened up - she had jumped straight out of her bed at him! She didn't even have her wand to quickly clean her teeth!
He set her down. "And Defence?"
"Acceptable," she answered, looking at Crookshanks and willing him to fetch her wand from under her pillow. Her cat was ignoring her, though - he must be really hungry, the poor thing. She sighed and went back to get her wand.
"That's unacceptable!"
What? She looked at Harry. He was now glaring at her. "What?"
"Acceptable in Defence…" He shook his head. "You're in danger! They're targeting you! That's why your parents had to leave! 'Acceptable' won't cut it in a real fight!"
Well, she knew that! But she couldn't show off her real skills - which would hurt her N.E.W.T.s in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, when Curse-Breaking-related questions would be tested - without endangering her cover. "But…"
"No buts! We'll start your training today!" He nodded at her. "I'll tell Sirius."
"What?"
*****
Harry Potter flicked his wand and sent a volley of Stinging Hexes at Hermione. He saw her start to move, then freeze up, and two of the hexes hit her. She yelped and dropped to the floor, rubbing her thigh.
"No, no, no!" He shook his head. "You can't stop and think about what you want to do - you need to move and keep moving. It's hard to hit a moving target. Think while you're moving, and add random changes of direction so they can't predict where you'll be in the next few seconds."
"I'm trying!" Hermione said, glaring at him.
He glared back. "Get up. We're trying this again." He didn't like treating her so harshly, but it was for her own good. She could do it, he knew. She was smart - who else would manage so many O.W.L.s while studying at home? - and he was now very much aware that she was fit enough for this exercise as well, even if her baggy exercise clothes hid her body. Although seeing how she kept getting hit, he was tempted to use his glasses to check whether he had imagined her body this morning. He shook his head - he wouldn't peep on his friend. "Ready?"
"Yes."
This time he sent three hexes at her in a wide pattern so at least one would catch her when she tried to dodge.
She managed to get hit twice.
Harry closed his eyes and wondered if his teachers had ever been as frustrated with him as he was with his friend right then.
*****
Hermione Granger was in pain. Her whole body hurt, especially her thighs and her rump - Harry must have hit her there dozens of times with Stinging Hexes - and the ointment she was using on her bruised skin wasn't helping much. And, of course, the cursed dog was enjoying her suffering! She glared at Sirius, who was seated behind his desk, but not doing any work. The wizard had barely managed to contain his laughter when he had seen the end of Harry's training session. He wouldn't be laughing at all if he had been hit with so many hexes, she thought. Perhaps she should demonstrate that to him. Teach him a lesson in compassion.
"Forget it!" Sirius suddenly said.
"What?"
"Whatever you were thinking," he answered. "You had that evil glint in your eyes." He twirled his wand between his fingers.
She huffed. "We have to tell Harry."
"What? That you're actually not hopeless at Defence, but screwing up so much because you are hiding your actual skill - which, incidentally, isn't that much better."
She glared at him. She knew that she wasn't in his, or, as today had proved, Harry's, league, but she was far from hopeless. "Yes. He knows Occlumency, so he won't be a risk. And he'll worry less about me, and so can enjoy his holidays more, if he knows the truth." And she wouldn't have to suffer daily torture at the hands of her well-meaning but far too harsh friend. His teachers had a lot to answer for!
Sirius sighed. "We can't do that."
"Why not?" She finished smearing ointment on her thighs and started on her arms.
"We would have to explain why you're hiding your skills. Which would lead to telling him what we're doing when he's at Hogwarts."
"I think the Headmaster would understand," she said.
"Dumbledore's not the problem," Sirius retorted. "Harry is."
"What?" She was saying that entirely too often today.
"He wants to become an Auror after Hogwarts. Told me so today." Sirius sighed again. "He wants to clean up Britain."
Hermione blinked, then frowned. Why would that… "Oh."
"Yes, 'oh'." Sirius shook his head. "He'd be a hypocrite if he covered for a group of thieves while hunting other criminals."
"We're not exactly common criminals," Hermione said. Their victims deserved it, after all.
"But we're still criminals. He would be a corrupt Auror if he protected us while hunting others - such as corrupt members of the Ministry and the Wizengamot." He stared at her. "I won't ask him to sacrifice his ideals for me. Or for anyone else. He deserves better."
Hermione met his eyes. He was serious. And, she had to admit, he was correct. She sighed. "I'll expect compensation for my suffering."
"What?" He gaped at her. "It's your own fault! You should be able to fake being an average witch."
"Harry won't accept being average as good enough," she pointed out. "And it's hard to fake being average instead of being awful."
He frowned, then shrugged. "Well, it's only about six more weeks until he's back at Hogwarts. You can endure for that long."
He shielded her hexes long enough to escape the study, and with her limbs hurting, she couldn't give chase. Not even as a cat.
Hermione hissed in frustration. She'd get him back, though. As soon as she could again move without pain.
Which, unfortunately, would not be for some time.
*****
