Datasets:
mickume
/
alt_potterverse

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
1
text
stringlengths
0
57.5k
Hermione showed the letters to Lady Merope, and together they began to make plans to accommodate the girls. Hermione wanted them to have the rooms next to hers, so that they could easily spend the night together if they chose.
It was not that she deliberately kept the news from Tom, but Tom was always busy plotting with the friends of his who remained at the castle—Avery and Nott, she thought—and she certainly was not going to interrupt their discussions. In fact, she wanted to keep her distance from him for as long as that charm remained in effect. So it happened that the day they arrived, Tom was ensconced in a side room with his friends.
She had been anticipating the girls’ arrival, so when they appeared hand-in-hand with an elf in the castle entrance, she rose grandly from where she was waiting and welcomed them. The sounds of Apparition startled Tom. As Hermione was offering her greetings and linking arms with them, he burst from the room. His dark eyes were wide with surprise at the sight.
"Oh, good afternoon, Lord Thomas," Luna said cheerfully.
"Good afternoon," he finally sputtered. He gazed at Hermione, eyebrows narrowing, but she merely smiled at him as she escorted her friends to the small family dining room for refreshments.
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.
"It won’t stand," Armand Malfoy declared, setting down his goblet on the table. "I won’t have it, my son."
Abraxas scowled into his own goblet. His father was out of control. He had no idea why anymore, either. He had gone to the family library and taken down the large tome that spoke of sacrificial magic in all its forms to try to find out what he could. It had plenty of information. It spoke of the incomparable power of human sacrifice to seal unbreakable charms of protection, to split the soul for earthly immortality, perhaps even—according to the ancient Celts—to open doors to the other side of the great Veil separating the living from the dead. The book also spoke of the power of sacrifice of non-human innocents. The potion that his father was taking was not supposed to rot his brains. It was meant to be a cure for physical ills. Whatever was happening was due to something else, and Abraxas was at a loss as to what.
"Father," Abraxas said patiently, "I beg you not to strip the High Master position of its noble title."
"I don’t mean to do that. We will need to install one of our own someday, after all—perhaps Carrow. I will sign an order that the High Master of Hogwarts cannot accept the oaths of anyone, since the title is not hereditary. That’s how it is, is it not, my son? Oaths pass through blood inheritance."
That was not so at all. One could swear an oath of loyalty to an organization, an order, an institution, and it held regardless of who led. Why was his father declaring otherwise?
"Of course, if it should become so, then I can revoke that order." Malfoy sipped from his goblet. "But I am tired of all these little rebellions. They irritate me."
You are going to have this entire accursed country in open revolt against you if you respond to everything that "irritates" you, Abraxas thought, glaring at his father as he guzzled again from his cup. These people are grasping at what little power they think they can. Perhaps it will even satisfy them if you leave them be. But if you take that away from them, they will retaliate. Why can’t you see that?
In a little while, after they rose from the private family table, Abraxas reluctantly drew his wand and pointed it at his father’s back as he approached the door to the little room. This was the fourth Memory Charm he had cast. He hoped that this wasn’t making the problem with his father’s mind worse, because it had to be done.
Castle Parselhall at Hangleton.
It was not easy for Tom to catch Hermione alone. For a couple of days, he didn’t see her without her two friends present. Finally, though, he caught her walking a pathway along the grounds by herself, and he seized the moment.
She noticed his approach and sighed inwardly. It was probably just as well that they have it out, but she would have preferred some time to prepare for the confrontation.
He reached her. "Hermione. I had no idea that your friends were coming."
She stopped walking and stared haughtily at him. "Your mother did, obviously. It is hardly my fault that you chose to hide away with your own friends and ignore what I was doing."
"I never said it was your fault."
"That is the implication."
He glared. "No, Hermione, it isn’t the implication. I just didn’t know they were coming. We don’t talk anymore...."
"And that is my fault?"
"Again, I didn’t say that. It’s not about blame. It’s just... a shame that we don’t...."
She gazed evenly at his handsome face. "You know what has to happen, Tom. Now that you are securing alliances with your friends’ families for your mother, are you finally going to apologize for treating me ill and swear never to do it again?"
For a beautiful moment, he appeared as if he wanted to. Then his face changed, hardening with a mask of pride. "I have not secured alliances with all of them," he said, "and in any case, you owe me an apology too."
Anger flared up in her. "Oh, do I? For what, exactly?"
"For involving yourself with this "Friends of the Founders’ group. I’ve already said that their agenda is something other than mine—my family’s—and you are part of my family. These witches are probably going to spy on us. One of them is a Weasley."
She fingered her wand, not pointing it at him, but still glad it was there. "They are not spies. They are my friends. The only thing on their "agenda’ that they have done is to swear Hogsmeade to Hogwarts—and the parents of one of them did that. They aren’t doing anything against you, Tom. They are acting against the Wizards’ Council—you know, our common enemy?"
"They’re up to something else."
"You have no evidence of that, merely suspicion. And if that’s what you believe—if you think my friends are spies—why don’t you go before them and read their minds? See for yourself."
"I don’t mean that they would be deliberately coming here to spy, but if they overheard... certain things... then they would surely find that very interesting and report back to their families."
"Certain things’ such as your intention to seek a hidden chamber, Tom? Or—a crown? "Things’ like that? Perhaps you should be more careful of your discussions, if that’s what you are worried about, or even better, stop talking about such things."
"Hermione, whose side are you on?" he snarled, his voice dark and angry. He reached for her shoulders. She did not attempt to move away—she was sure she knew what was about to happen, and she wanted it to, wanted him to get a good hard shock for once. He met her eyes with his and looked deeply into them.
There was a brief moment of invasion as she felt his mental presence—but in the very next moment, the very next thought, she slammed him out of her mind. He drew back as if a wave had crashed, gaping at her in astonishment. With almost involuntary reflexes, he put a hand to his forehead as if the violence of her Occlumency shield had given him a headache. Then he tried again.
The second time was more subtle and expert. She faced him calmly, gazing back into his dark eyes, seemingly allowing his mental presence entry—but not really. The seeking tendril of his thought darted about the surface memories in her mind, the superficial thoughts, but whenever she felt him trying to get to something deeper, she closed the door.
Finally he drew back and gazed at her, his face sour and deeply resentful. "You have been studying Occlumency with Lord Severus." It was almost an accusation.
"I have indeed," she said smugly.
"You—alone in a room with Lord Severus—"
"Your mother approved it, the door was always left open, and...." Hermione hesitated, deciding not to reveal the interest in Lady Merope that she had seen in Snape’s mind. She had promised, and it was not her secret. "He was always a perfect gentleman to me... at least in that regard," she muttered, well aware that no one who knew the dour, sarcastic wizard would believe that description of his overall personality. "I never felt that he had the slightest interest in me in that respect. I merely learned Occlumency from him with your mother’s permission, as if he were a professor at Hogwarts."
"You want to block me," he said, disbelieving. "You don’t want me to be able to know what you’re thinking. You really have joined these "Friends,’ haven’t you?" he accused. "You have sided against me—betraying me—"
Hermione was incensed. In a flash, she had the tip of her wand an inch away from his nose. "That’s enough, Tom Riddle. That is a very serious word, and you shouldn’t toss it about recklessly. I became an Occlumens because you need to learn to ask instead of merely taking what you want from me—from my mind. I am a witch, and you are going to treat me with respect if I have to use my magic to make you."
He glared. "The people who haven’t treated you with respect are the Wizards’ Council, the filthy Normans, and the Saxon Muggles. My people have always honored witches."
"Then perhaps you should start to be more like them, should you not?" she said cuttingly. "You could start with honoring the privacy of my mind. If you want to know something, and you will treat me well again, then you can ask, and I’ll tell you. I might even let you see for yourself, since you like that—if you ask."
Tom ignored this. "The Friends of the Founders—if you haven’t switched sides, then they are using you for some purpose."
She laughed. "Tom, I doubt that your secret meetings with your friends, your discussions of crowns and chambers, are even a gleam in their eyes. If anyone outside your little circle even knew about it, you would be in deep trouble. You aren’t the one they are fighting."
"After my mother secures formal alliances with all my friends, that might change."
"If it does, if the Friends of the Founders ever act against your family, I will stop associating with them, simple as that. I honor our contract, Tom. But the fact is that they haven’t done so, so I am not "betraying’ you. We are bound by the Codex of Wizarding Law, Tom, and under our law, witches are not required to obey every little order that their husbands give—and you are not even my husband." She put up her hand when he opened his mouth to argue. "Not in the eyes of the law, Tom. But if that’s how you see our relationship, then what does it say that you treat me as you do? I will be happy to reconcile when you’re ready to do what you know, in your conscience, that you ought to do."
With that, she turned on her heels and continued on her path, leaving Tom standing in the grass staring after her. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to follow her, but that moment passed. His eyebrows narrowed, he huffed in derision, and he stalked back to the castle.
By the time the end of summer came, Hermione was more than ready to return to Hogwarts. Ginevra and Luna had only been able to stay for about a fortnight, and after that, she had been lonely again. Her confrontation with Tom had accomplished precisely nothing that she could tell. He had continued to avoid her, interacting with her strictly when it was proper to do so, and without a hint of warmth when he did. Over the course of the summer, she had also observed as more and more nobles came to swear defensive pacts with Lady Merope. She kept a tally, and at the end of the summer, the only family of his friends who had not allied with Merope was the Wilkes family. It was only a matter of time, she supposed.
At last the day came for them to go back to Scotland. Hermione clutched the house-elf’s thin hand as it Apparated her there. I am going to focus on my studies, she told herself as she stood in the courtyard of the school. I will achieve mastery of magic—perhaps even earlier than Tom does. I have been here for two years, and I want to become a master after a mere two more. Tom has had three. This spiteful competitiveness comforted her, in a sad kind of way; it gave her a goal to work for. Tom would respect her, one way or another.
She recognized that ethereal voice. A smile formed on her face as she walked over to where Luna stood, leaving Tom standing by himself as he waited for his friends to arrive.
Castle l’Etrange.
Lord Rodolphus and Lady Bellatrix Lestrange did not have a happy marriage. Lestrange’s ailing father, who had died at a very young age for a wizard, had been determined to see an heir of the family born before his death, and he had made the arrangement with the Black family, the "token" English family that the Malfoys and Lestranges had decided to seat on the Wizards’ Council. Rabastan, the younger son, seemed to have some sort of "problem" that the family did not like to talk about; the old—well, not so old—man had been very insistent that Rodolphus must sire the heir. So the marriage had taken place, but Rodolphus had never cared for her. He had done his duty, and relatively soon, Adelaide was born, but after that they had rarely been intimate—and then it had ceased altogether because he took his pleasure elsewhere.
Some noblewomen would tolerate mistresses because they knew that they wore the ring and they would be the mother of the heir. However, Bellatrix had objected to her husband’s regular trysts. It was not because she was jealous of the women—she hardly cared about her husband’s affections—but rather, because Rodolphus had turned to Muggles. He had been unable to find any witches who would destroy their reputations and future marital prospects by agreeing to be a married man’s mistress. That was not surprising; young witches’ assumed capacity to bear future magical children made them extremely valuable, and even the poorest of the poor could find a wizard husband if they wanted a family. They did not have to settle for disgracing themselves. Bellatrix’s objection to the behavior was that it was dirty for a wizard to mate with a Muggle woman. She recalled the one time that an outraged Muggle mother had demanded audience with her, asserting that her daughter had been raped—but that was a joke. Witches could be raped. Muggles were inferior creatures that were there to be used as witches and wizards saw fit—even if Bellatrix disagreed with Rodolphus’s use of them. How she had screamed, under Bellatrix’s Cruciatus Curse.... Torture was enjoyable, a nice substitute now that Bellatrix did not want to touch her husband after he had sullied himself with Muggles....
At least Rodolphus had avoided siring any half-blood bastards on the Muggles, Bellatrix consoled herself. He had forced them all to take the potion, which worked on Muggles as well as witches. In fact, it worked better, since Muggles could not use the inner magic of their force of will to undermine the potion’s effects. And she herself had a lovely daughter, who was more a Black than a Lestrange. Her dear Adelaide looked more and more like her with each passing day, and she had robust health. The Black blood would increase in the next generation, since Draco Malfoy was her first cousin through Bellatrix’s sister. Meanwhile, Rodolphus was approaching the age at which his father had taken ill. Before long, Bellatrix hoped, the blood-traitor would manifest the hereditary weakness of his family, and then, under cover of his illness, she could end the deterioration early. Yes, in Bellatrix’s opinion, the future was bright.
But there were some problems in the present that had to be resolved first, political problems, and Bellatrix was entirely in agreement with Rodolphus on politics. The blood-traitor Lady Riddle was a thorn in everyone’s side—really, that entire family was. She herself had attempted, a year and a half ago, to assassinate the Mudblood that Lady Riddle had brought into the magical nobility, to avenge the harm to her beloved daughter’s reputation. It had not succeeded. Then Lord Malfoy had apparently declared that Lady Riddle should marry Caractacus Burke, only to discover that the blood-traitor had protected the dirty Muggle to whom she had been married with a shield that only her own blood could pass through. Rodolphus himself had been involved in the murder attempt, and the whispers were that the Wizards’ Council were working on a plan to deal with that shield in some way....
But the worst offense of all was when Lady Riddle had declared the Lestranges—naming Bellatrix by name!—as her enemies, because they had accepted the oaths of the Carrows. That act was what the forced marriage to Burke was supposed to punish, but since they had been unable to kill Sir Thomas, there had been no punishment for it. That was wrong. It was an affront to the proper order of things. She and Rodolphus were at least in agreement about that.
A loud thud sounded, and Bellatrix looked up from where she sat in her parlor. Rodolphus was finally here. His robes were unkempt. Probably fresh from a Muggle wench’s cunt, she thought with disgust—but it didn’t matter. They had important things to discuss. She reached for the pitcher of wine that sat on the side table and poured herself a goblet.
He sat down, smoothing his robes, and peered at her. "How are you, my lady?" he said stiffly.
She sipped her wine. "Very well. I have been waiting for you."
"I have been occupied. But since I am here now, let us begin." He stretched his bony arms in front of him. "I have returned to the manor of that Muggle Riddle since the first night, with Burke along to inspect the blood shield further. It is definitely the second-strongest possible, which can only be cast with her own lifeblood to anchor it. Burke has confirmed, too—he suspected, but he has now confirmed—that the shield can be penetrated only by the witch herself or one who shares half that blood—in other words, a parent, a full sibling, or a child."
"Her parents and brother are dead!" Bellatrix exclaimed.
"They are indeed." Rodolphus let that sentence hang in the air, the unspoken implication weighing heavily. "I have discussed a plan with Abraxas and Arcturus... though Arcturus is reluctant." He gazed at her, his dislike for her apparent in his eyes as he spoke of her relative. "And that brings me to the next point."
"Your suspicion that Arcturus is plotting against Lord Malfoy," she said reluctantly, the words sour on her tongue. He had mentioned that idea to her before. She did not believe it; she was sure that he merely resented the influence of someone from her family on the Head of the Council.
Rodolphus smiled evilly. "You don’t like to hear of treason in your family, I see. Well, in that case, I have good news for you, my lady."
A suspicion suddenly dawned in Bellatrix’s mind. "You don’t say that—"
"Lord Armand Malfoy is a great man and a great wizard," Rodolphus said, true admiration in his voice. "I believe that, in the worst case, he will someday have a great statue of himself in this country, to mark how he led the wizards here to civilize this land. In the best case... well," he said, smiling to himself. "However, there are those who resent his long life. Those who have ambitions. Those who... would like very much to be "Lord Malfoy.’"
Bellatrix’s eyes widened. "Abraxas," she breathed.
Rodolphus nodded. "I had the great honor of speaking with his high lordship alone, and sadly, his memories are... muddled somewhat at times. Coincidentally—or, rather, not so coincidentally, I believe, these are times when he apparently decided to choose a weak course of action against our enemies. He believes that Abraxas has persuaded him to these decisions, sometimes with Arcturus’s presence, sometimes not." He glared outward into the room. "I should have seen it. He lives with Abraxas, who is getting old in his own right. Meanwhile, Lord Lucius rules Godric’s Hollow, while Abraxas has to wait on an old man instead of ruling the family estate, as he undoubtedly thinks he should at his age. If my suspicion is right, Abraxas also has to supply something that will prolong his lordship’s life even more. It is obvious what is going on."
Bellatrix’s eyes were glittering. "And my noble cousin...?"
"Arcturus is probably trying to stick to his own affairs and play both sides as well as he can, not wanting to get in the middle of a family fight. I do think that the inconsistent behavior from his high lordship is due to his own son’s actions."
She breathed deeply. "If you can prove that Abraxas is a traitor, then it will be a great thing for this family. His high lordship will make you his most trusted advisor...."
"He should, yes."
She grinned. "Then get to it, my lord."
Hermione sighed sadly as she ate her dinner. This was her fifteenth birthday, and although she had not had observations of it before she entered the wizarding community, she had still become accustomed to it for the past two years. This year, without an affectionate word, Tom had left her a perfunctory gift of a book—a fine thing, certainly, but she rather doubted that he had chosen Witch-Magic of the Celts because he thought this was a topic of special interest to her. He was trying to make a point.
If you really do respect me, she thought sullenly, then you yourself have to show that. You can’t simply give me a book about how people with your blood respected witches and expect me to find that good enough.
At the end of the meal, she arose from her seat and prepared to return to her common room. As she filed out of the Great Hall, she felt a tap on her arm. She turned around to greet Ginevra and Luna.
"We have a meeting," Ginevra said quietly. "And I think there is something special planned."
Hermione’s heart lifted, as her friend appeared to be implying that the group had done something to mark her birthday. A smile bloomed on her face. "Of course," she said. "The meeting is right now?"
Ginevra nodded. Hermione smiled again and linked arms with her friends, as they began to make their way up the many flights of stairs to the seventh floor. When they entered the Come-and-Go Room, Hermione’s eyes lit up at the sight. There was a plate of spiced sweets and several pitchers of cider. She gazed around the room at the others—her friends, she thought warmly. Ginevra, Luna, and Harry, of course, but also Neville, Susan Bones, Ernest Macmillan, and—who was that?
Ginevra noticed. Taking Hermione’s arm, she whisked her over to the new boy. "Ron," she said, her voice tense. "This is Lady Hermione Granger. Lady Hermione, this is my brother Ronald."
The red-haired boy had an unpleasant, blatantly jealous and resentful sneer on his face at the sight of Hermione’s costly robes. It only heightened when his sister introduced Hermione by her noble title. "Delighted to meet you," the wizard finally spat insincerely, extending his hand briefly for her to shake. He withdrew it quickly and peered at her, his gaze darting from the emerald ring on her finger upward to her face. "Are we soon going to be joined by your noble betrothed?"
Hermione stared at him, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. Just what was his problem, anyway? "I highly doubt it," she said coldly. "But if we were, I hope that would not be a problem. Ha—Potter and I are, after all, in the same House with him, and the three of us have associated. He is certainly not a friend of the Malfoys, either."
"His mother swore the oath of fealty to Armand Malfoy."
Ginevra was glaring at her brother. "We welcome anyone who wants to be an ally," she said pointedly. "I myself learned to accept Slytherins if they are on our side. You can too, Ronald."
He sneered back. "They have to prove themselves first—prove that they care about something more than fine robes and titles." He glared at the brocade on Hermione’s robes, though the look was obviously tinged with bitter jealousy.
"I beg your pardon," Hermione said hotly. "I do not have to prove anything to you. I have been attending these meetings for some time, whereas this is your first." She gazed levelly at him. "Now, if you please, I think we all should enjoy those sweets. It is my birthday, after all."
"Yes, let’s certainly celebrate the birthday of a noble girl," Ronald sneered under his breath as she headed toward the front of the room—but she heard anyway. She just ignored it.
She took a plate from the stack that the room had apparently generated for them and helped herself to food. As she went back to take a seat, she noticed that the red-haired wizard had greedily piled his plate high with sweets. Shaking her head, she began to eat her birthday candies.
Finally Harry and Neville ascended to the podium and called the meeting to order. "First of all," Harry said, "let us all wish Lady Hermione a happy fifteenth birthday."
Hermione smiled at him as the small group applauded. He met her eyes and smiled back awkwardly. As she met his green eyes with hers, a strange—no, she realized with alarm, a very familiar warmth and coziness formed in her. It’s only because he did a kind thing for me, she told herself. That’s all it is. She fingered the ring on her hand as if it were a talisman, forcing herself to think of Tom and the intimate moments they had shared in the past. To her relief, that flood of memories overwhelmed the unsettling thought that she had just had.
"I would also like to welcome our new member, Ronald Weasley, Ginevra’s brother," Harry said, his words and smile forced. "I am told that the Weasley family is taking some important steps to improve our position, and anyone from the family is welcome here."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at that. What did he mean? Was it only what Ginevra had told her already, that her brother William was seeking an alliance with goblins? Or was there something else afoot?
"In the meantime, we called the meeting tonight to make an important announcement about our own goals and... intentions. As you all know, Neville’s parents have sworn fealty to Dumbledore. We don’t yet know what the Wizards’ Council will do in response to this. It is a perfectly legal and normal act, but Lord Malfoy is a vindictive person who does not like any challenge to his power. In short, we think that we should practice defensive magic and pool our knowledge for our own good."
There were rumblings of concern at this. "Are you suggesting... practice to fight against the Wizards’ Council?" Macmillan said, rather alarmed. Hermione rather wondered the same.
"We would only do that if we’re attacked first," Harry assured him at once. "Only if Malfoy breaks his word first. I’m not advocating treason. There are serious repercussions to a wizard or witch breaking an oath. I’m only suggesting that we should be prepared to defend ourselves."
In a bit, the members of the small group partnered to practice defensive spells with each other. Reluctantly Ginevra turned to her brother, Harry with Neville, and Ernest with Susan, leaving Hermione to partner with Luna. She felt a bit guilty about this; Luna was such a small, fairylike, innocent witch—
Hermione almost didn’t react in time to the stunning spell that came her way. Startled out of her patronizing attitude, she turned to Luna and began to duel.
Castle l’Etrange.