Ch 85 the rise of a dark lady, Hermione Granger

Philip Granger stood in the door way to his daughter's bedroom and watched as she suffered through the latest nightmare.

Drugged into unconsciousness by her medicinal potions regimen, the poor girl still relived that horrible night she could barely speak of even now, almost three weeks later. His anger growing as he watched his precious daughter toss and turn in obvious terror as she experienced the running battle yet again.

Carefully, Granger closed the door and returned to his bedroom, where his wife waited.

"Not any better?" Elizabeth asked, looking up from her book as he entered the room.

"Not at all," the Dentist admitted, his jaw tightening in anger at what had been done to his only child. "You were right. I should have put a stop to this nonsense in her first year."

"No," she disagreed, "you were right. Our little mouse has blossomed at that school, growing in ways I'd always hoped she would. She's no longer the little know it all who must be right about everything, who slavishly follows every figure of authority, she's a courageous young woman willing to risk danger for what is right."

"And that willingness to fight brought her into conflict with adults who attempted to kill her," Philip noted, opening his wardrobe and pondering his tie selection for what was going to be a most important meeting.

"Which is why, now is the time for you to step in," Elizabeth said, returning to her book.

"Quite," Philip nodded as he selected his favorite school tie. "I'll try the direct approach first, and if that doesn't work, I'll have words with a few of the lads."

Seeing him struggling, Elizabeth marked her place in her book and rose from her bed. She crossed the room to stand behind her husband of almost twenty years and tied his tie for him. "There you go," she said once she was finished, punctuating her words by kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you luv," Philip pulled his suit coat on and checked his appearance in the mirror. "If Hermione wakes, let her know I've gone out to tend to a minor chore."

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded. "No sense worrying her."

oooOOOooo

The Dark Lord Voldemort glared at his assembled Death Eaters. He had tortured a few of the minor Death Eaters to death earlier for minor crimes, though everyone knew the real reason was his anger over the failure of his inner circle to succeed in capturing the prophecy, but seeing as there were so few of the minor Death Eaters left, that was really a counterproductive exercise.

He really needed to have a recruiting drive. He would put Bellatrix on that.

The Ministry Justice system was its normal revolving door, so after a few political donations, all of those captured at the Ministry had returned to the fold.

"My friends," he said, his voice echoing throughout the vast ballroom of Malfoy Manor, "The Ministry has been forced to admit that I have returned, fortunately, our groundwork is done, we are ready."

Voldemort moved to a map of Diagon alley. "We will make ourselves known here." A long boney finger pointed to Ollivander's. "I want the wand maker captured, alive. Kill everyone else you see."

Before the Dark Lord could issue his next instruction a parliament of owls flooded in the open windows, each owl sought out an individual Death Eater and dropped a letter.

Without thought and out of habit, Voldemort snatched the letter dropped for him out of the air, his eyes widening when he felt the telltale hook behind the navel sensation of a portkey.

oooOOOooo

Voldemort's wand was in his hand before he finished spinning to a stop at the new location. He noticed with disgust that none of his Death Eaters had arrived in any manner of preparedness.

"Put the wand away boy," a man said, breaking his focus, "before I feed it to you."

Voldemort spun to face the speaker and was shocked to see that he and his followers had appeared before a raised dais. A raised dais that he recognized. His jaw dropped in shock and his blood ran cold. Not them. He was in no way ready to face them.

He and his Death Eaters had been called before the Council of Evil. The six overlords of the inhabited continents. These six individuals held the personal power of life and death over every person in their fiefdom.

The man who had threatened Voldemort was the Overlord of Europe, the man Voldemort had petitioned for access to Britain in the late 1940s. He was known, in the manner of Dark Lords, as 'That Guy'.

"My Lord," Voldemort called out as he knelt before the dais. After a heartbeat his Death Eaters emulated his actions. The Dark Lord struggled to hide his reactions to the collection of powers sitting at the dais before him. In addition to That Guy, there was the enigmatic Who? the overlord of Australia whose face and indeed even gender was unknown. Him, the overlord of South America, known worldwide for his casual cruelty, and…

"You Know Who," That Guy asked, using his guild name, "how much of an idiot are you?"

Voldemort looked up in shock, but recognizing that the question was rhetorical, remained silent.

"You have attracted attention of the wrong people," That Guy continued. "Do you even know what you have done?"

"Of course he doesn't," the current overlord of Asia answered. This was a new face since the last time Voldemort had been before the Council, though he was aware of her. A woman from the Punjab known only as 'Her'. "I have had many reports of him from my agents at Hogwarts. He is provincial of thought, convoluted of plan, he schemes and plots against a school boy and consistently loses. His followers' children boast of his second coming to anyone who will listen. He is an idiot who leads fools who have sired morons."

"I said as much when you allowed him to attempt his conquest of Britain," the North American Overlord, a woman known as 'The Other Woman' said from her place to That Guy's right.

"You did," That Guy admitted. "We should have listened to you, it seems. You Know Who, when you attacked the Potter Boy, you also attacked a child with connections to an organization that even we respect."

"Oh, stop," a new voice said.

Every eye in the room fixed on the new speaker. Philip Granger paused to straighten his cuffs before continuing. "You're going to make me blush."

oooOOOooo

That Guy gestured causing Voldemort and Antonin Dolohov to be magically dragged bodily from the group of Death Eaters to stand before the man in Muggle clothing.

"This is the Dark Lord known as You Know Who and the man who injured your daughter," That Guy intoned. "Will their deaths suffice, or will you require more?"

Philip Granger seemed to mull the question over for several seconds. "My princess has been suffering quite a bit," he temporized, "but I suppose it will suffice, I understand your organization has its own needs and procedures. I understand your man has some sort of method of coming back from the dead…"

"I assure you, Doctor Granger," Her explained in a tone underlain with her terror of the dentist, "You Know Who's soul anchors will not save him this time."

That Guy nodded to The Other Woman who responded with a wave of her hand. Instantly Voldemort and Dolohov burst into flame and began to scream. The pair, frozen in place, unable to escape their fates, took seven long excruciatingly painful minutes to die.

"Well," Granger said, removing a handkerchief from his pocket to lightly dab at his lips, "that was unpleasant. I trust that nothing like this will be happening again? If it does, I'll have to have a word with a few of the Lads and things will become… serious."

"I assure you Doctor Granger," That Guy said nervously, "that there will be no repeat of the unfortunate misunderstanding. I'm sure that the late You Know Who's staff have learned from their master's painful demise."

"Painful?" Philip Granger asked with a small chuckle. "It is truly amusing that you would actually think that was painful. Ah, the innocence of amateurs." The laughing man made his way to the chamber's exit before pausing. "You will remember to deal with that other favor I asked?"

"Of course," That Guy assured him.

"Good man," the Dentist said, blinding them all with a gleaming smile.

The assembled Council of Evil breathed a sigh of relief when the dentist finally left their chambers.

oooOOOooo

Lucius Malfoy fought to keep his body under control. The Council of Evil. He was before the Council of Evil, an organization so dark that even his father had spoken of it in whispers.

And the Council was evidently so angry with his Lord and by extension, the Death Eaters that they had killed the Dark Lord? At the behest of a Muggle at no less? What was going on?

"Lucius Malfoy," the wizard sitting at the center of the dais said. I am the Dark Overlord That Guy. You were the Dark Lord You Know Who's second."

"I am to be the new Dark Lord?" Lucius gasped.

"No, you most certainly are not," the woman to That Guy's right snapped. "I am the Dark Overlady The Other Woman, there will be no Dark Lord in Britain for at least a century. You and your foolish former Dark Lord have angered the dentists."

"The what?" Lucius asked intelligently.

"The dentists, fool," the other woman on the dais spat. "I am the Dark Overlady Her. The dentists torture Muggles."

"Pfft," Bellatrix sniffed from Lucius' side. "Who doesn't?"

"Do the Muggles pay you outrageous sums of money to torture them?" That Guy asked. "Do they schedule torture sessions six months in advance and show up early so as to fit into your schedule? Do they present you with their children to be tortured with metal appliances in their mouths for months on end? Be silent Bellatrix Lestrange before you suffer the same fate as your idiot Dark Lord… or perhaps I'll give you to the dentists."

"Your son is the simpleton who has been publicly announcing the return of your idiot Dark Lord and antagonizing the daughter of a dentist, Lucius Malfoy," The woman called Her pointed out. "You will ensure he corrects his behavior and that he welcomes the girl to magical society."

"A Malfoy is to welcome a… mudblood?" Lucius asked in tones that did nothing to hide his disgust at the idea.

"Perhaps," The Other Woman suggested darkly, "your wife would be better suited to teaching such a lesson to your idiot son. Perhaps you and the rest of You Know Who's followers are too far gone to be salvaged."

"We will not have an organization as dedicated to the infliction of pain as the British Dental Association be made our enemies," That Guy declared.

"I have agents at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy," Her declared. "I will know if your idiot son disobeys our directives… likely before you do. Before you bring us into conflict with the unspeakable horror that is the BDA, the Council will exterminate all of your families to the last member. Remember that."

oooOOOooo

Hearing her husband enter their bedroom, Elizabeth Granger turned on her bedside lamp. "I couldn't sleep," she explained. "How did it go?"

"It turns out that they are an understanding and eager to please group," Philip said toeing off his shoes and loosening his tie. "I didn't even need to call in the lads. I did schedule a few appointments however. It seems that a common feature of magical organizations is appalling dental hygiene."

"Most organizations can be made to see the light," Elizabeth nodded, "once their mistakes are explained to them. Come to bed."

"Yes, dear," Philip said, as he finished removing his clothing and slid between the sheets.

oooOOOooo

On September first, Hermione Granger passed through the barrier of Platform 9 ¾ at a brisk walk, pushing her school trunk and Crookshank's carrier ahead of her on a baggage cart in heady anticipation of her 6th year. Immediately two hulking forms appeared on each side of her.

"We got that, Mz Hermione," Vincent Crabbe rumbled as he took control of the cart.

"Yeh," Greg Goyle agreed with a wide smile displaying a horrific need for her parents' services. "Wut he sed."

More than a little confused by this highly unusual display of helpfulness from Draco Malfoy's enforcers, Hermione could not stop herself from asking the obvious question. "What's going on?"

"After the unfortunat' misunderstandin' at the Ministry last May," Crabbe said in an obviously rehearsed statement, "we decided tha' you was be'n treated horri… horri…"

"Real bad," Goyle suggested.

"Yeh, real bad," Crabbe nodded happily. "You was be'n treated real bad, so we gonna, Greg 'n Me, make sure nobody does that no more."

Hermione wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so she decided to simply go with it and follow the two behemoths to the train, carefully palming her wand as she did so. She was a trusting young woman, but she was no one's fool.

Crabbe and Goyle led her to the carriage where she usually sat with Harry and Ron, which they knew as well as she did. Once trainside, Goyle shouldered her trunk and picked up Crookshank's carrier.

"I've got this Mz Hermione," he declared happily.

"Thank you Greg," Hermione said, deeply confused as she followed him onboard, accepting Vincent's hand in assistance to board the train. Once she reached her regular compartment, she found that Greg had place Crookshank's carrier on one of the seats and placed her trunk into the luggage racks above the seats.

"If you need anyfin," Vincent said as Greg joined him out in the passageway, "me 'n Greg'll be out here."

Hermione watched as Vincent closed the door and the pair took up positions on either side of the door, just as they had used to do when guarding Draco Malfoy.

Taking advantage of the privacy, she waved her wand, causing the windows of the compartment to go opaque. Once her privacy was ensured, she quickly pulled on her school uniform, making sure her prefect badge was clean and in position. Sitting down, she then allowed the windows to return to transparency and released Crookshanks from his carrier. The orange feline obligingly flowed onto her lap. "Crooksie," she whispered. "I have no idea what's going on, but I think this is going to be a very weird year."

oooOOOooo

After fifteen minutes there was a knock on the door of the compartment. Hermione looked up as Crabbe slide the door open. "Mz Hermione," he said, "Potter and the Weasleys to see you."

She wasn't sure what he expected her to say about that. "Should I let 'em in?" he asked.

"Yes please, Vincent, let them in."

The huge boy nodded happily and stood aside from the door, allowing Ginny to enter, and her girlfriend was followed by Ron and Harry. As soon as Harry was through the doorway, the door slid shut and Crabbe took up his position again.

All three of her friends were clearly confused. Ron perhaps most of all. "Hermione?" he asked, "what the hell?"

"Language Ron," Hermione corrected automatically. "and I have no idea. When I got to the platform, Goyle and Crabbe were there, telling me that I had been treated badly and that they were going to make sure it didn't happen any longer."

"Goyle and Crabbe?" Harry asked, looking to the door where the pair still stood post. "Seriously?"

"Would I make something like this up? It's already shaping up to be an odd year. But enough about my odd life, how are you Harry?"

"Better," Harry said running his hand through his hair. "I started to crawl inside my own head with Sirius and everything when I got to my relatives' house, but Ron, Ginny and the Twins showed up and kept kicking my butt until I cheered up."

"You went to Harry?" Hermione asked the Weasley siblings in surprised. "But Dumbledore said…"

"If the Headmaster had told me to stay away from Harry at school, where he can actually tell me what to do, I'd have ignored him," Ginny sniffed.

"The summers are our time," Ron agreed. "Mum read us the riot act but I think she approved, really. I know Dad did, he did his 'I'm very disappointed in you, good job' thing when Mum wasn't listening."

"I was going to do the same thing," Hermione admitted, "but I didn't want to get you into trouble. Then my parents all but grounded me because I got hurt at the Ministry, so I couldn't get away."

The Express jerked as it began to move.

"Well, I guess that means we need to go to our Prefect meeting," Hermione pointed out.

"Are you bringing your escorts?" Ron laughed.

"Oh, goodness. I hadn't thought of that. Rising from her seat she opened the door. "Greg, could you and Vincent come in here please?"

"Yes Mz Hermione?" Goyle asked when he and his friend crowded into the compartment.

"Are you two intending to escort me all day?" Hermione asked.

The pair nodded enthusiastically in response. "I'd thought as much. Look, I have to go to the Prefects' meeting, and you can't come."

"We always went wit' Draco…" Goyle started.

"I am not Draco Malfoy," Hermione said with finality. "And I still don't know what this is all about, but we'll be talking about it after the meeting. I want you two to stay here. Inside the carriage, not out in the passageway, all right?"

"But, Mz Hermione…" Crabbe protested.

"Sit!" Hermione commanded.

Instantly the pair sat down on either side of the doorway, looking so very forlorn. The looks on their faces tugged at her heart, causing Hermione to sigh. "Ron, Ginny and I have to go to the Prefects' meeting, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep Harry company, all right?"

Again the pair nodded. Hermione paused for a moment, then went to her purse and pulled from it an orange cylindrical package far too large to have been contained within the small bag.

"Would some biscuits make it easier to wait?" she asked.

Vincent accepted the package with a nod.

"Digestives?" Ron asked. "What are they?"

"Ron, we need to go," Ginny said, opening the door and leading her brother out into the passageway.

Hermione offered Harry an apologetic shrug and followed the siblings out of the compartment.

"You never get me biscuits," Ron said plaintively.

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione sighed.

oooOOOooo

The compartment was silent for several minutes other than the steady crunching of Goyle and Crabbe working their way through the sleeve of biscuits.

It finally got to be too much for Harry. "So," he said, desperate for any conversation. Then he flashed to the Cannon's season opener that Ron had insisted they listen to on the Wizarding Wireless the night before. "How about those Bats?"

"Rebuilding year," Goyle said as he paused from the biscuit he was working on.

"Yeah," Crabbe agreed. "Good keeper, lazy seeker, best beaters in the league, but their chasers… "

"Last night against Chudley wuz prubly the only win this season," Greg said as the door slid open, surprising all three of the boys.

"Hello Harry," Luna said in a sing song tone. "Hello Gregory, Vincent." If Luna was surprised to find Draco's bookends in a compartment with Harry she didn't seem to find the need to mention it.

"Hello Luna, how was your summer," Harry asked the quirky blond as she took the seat between him and Goyle.

"Utterly lovely and more than a little perplexing," she said. "Even now the Quibbler is trying to sort out what has happened, and inform our readership of the new reality. Do you have any insight on our new Dark Lady?"

"New Dark Lady?" Harry asked.

"Why, Hermione of course," Luna explained.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yes Harry," Luna confirmed.

"Hermione Granger is a Dark Lady?" He asked again.

"Of course she is, Harry," Luna said with a shake of her head. "Don't you pay attention?"

Harry almost had this entire idea written off as the latest of Luna's odd ideas when he noticed Crabbe and Goyle nodding.

"Won't Hermione being a 'Dark Lady' cause problems with Voldemort?" He asked hoping to get the punchline to the joke.

"Considering Hermione had the nasty so and so killed," Luna temporized, "I would hardly think so."

"It t'wern't Mz Hermione wot had th' Dark Lord kilt," Goyle protested, "t'were her da."

"Gregory," Luna said with a disapproving frown, "Are you still doing that? Why are you still doing that?"

The large boy blushed. "I'm not sure what y' mean Mz Luna."

"Gregory," Luna sighed. "When you and Vincent were bound to serve the Malfoy family, acting the idiot made a certain amount of sense, given that Draco isn't the brightest Lumos in the wand and he hates anyone smarter than him. You will find that Hermione Granger, for all her faults, is quite the opposite. Once she's around you enough to see through your village idiot guises, she will be furious that you are wasting your potential."

Greg and Vinnie exchanged glances.

"Do you really think so?" Vinnie asked. "Can we actually achieve something in class?"

"Hermione is likely to give you both hell if you don't," Luna nodded. "She's the type of Dark Lady that expects her subordinates to be skilled, competent and thoughtful. Just look at Harry and Ron if you don't believe me. You can expect her to go over your homework assignments with you and point out your mistakes so that you can correct them before you turn them in, just like she does theirs."

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry said, interrupting, trying to get the subject off the crazy idea that he and Ron were Hermione's subordinates. "Voldemort is dead?"

Both Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

"And Hermione's dad did it?" he asked.

"More had it done than actually did it himself, but yeah," Crabbe agreed.

"And because of that, Hermione is now a Dark Lady and you're her… thugs?"

"Well… yes," Goyle nodded. "The elder Granger can't be a Dark Lord because he's a Muggle, so it falls to Miss Hermione. We have high hopes… Though, truth be told, as far as job titles go, I've always preferred 'minion'."

"I disagree, minion is so plebian. 'Hooligan' has a certain classic appeal," Crabbe argued.

"Does this mean that Hermione is going to be trying to kill me this year?" Harry asked, surrendering to the insanity.

"Oh, no," Crabbe said with a shake of his head. "You and the Weasley family are on the Do Not Annoy list as well. And a good thing too."

"Yeah," Goyle agreed. "Bellatrix Lestrange didn't take the Dark Lord being killed very well. She couldn't find Miss Hermione or her parents, so she decided to take it out on you."

"My dad and Pansy's Mum were on watch that afternoon, and they caught her and the other Lestranges and turned them over to the ministry," Crabbe explained. "They're all in Azkaban again."

"There's an excellent write up about the encounter in tomorrow's Quibbler Harry," Luna noted. "In case you're interested in the details, I mean. On an unrelated note there's also a story about the horrible and untimely death of the Ministry's undersecretary in charge of the Dementors."

"That had nothing to do with you or Miss Hermione," Crabbe said.

"Her 'educational' decrees weren't popular," Goyle noted. "Not even among the Slytherins, whom she supposedly favored. Lowest DADA scores in a century, except for the participants in your covert study group. To say parents weren't pleased would be something of an understatement."

"So, now I have Death Eaters… protecting me?"

The door slammed open and an irate Hermione stormed into the compartment, flinging herself into the seat across from Harry and staring out the window in an obvious fury.

oooOOOooo

Harry knew he should say something to his friend, but her noticeable anger caused him to hesitate. Ron standing in the passageway leaning against the outside window to keep himself from collapsing in laughter really didn't help.

"Hello Hermione," Luna said, producing a notepad and self-inking quill before continuing, "could I possibly interest you in an interview with the Quibbler about your impending reign of terror?"

"I," Hermione ground out through clinched jaws, "am not a Dark Lord."

"Of course you're not," Luna said, leaning across the aisle to pat Hermione's knee. "Dark Lords are men, usually ones who have emasculated themselves through dark rituals. Your proper title would be 'Dark Lady."

Luna paused for a moment before continuing, "You haven't done anything to your reproductive system have you? While it is traditional among Dark Lords, it never really caught on among Dark Ladies."

"Luna," Harry whispered, "you're not helping…"

"I'm not supposed to be helping Harry," Luna said in her normal conversational tone. "As member of the Press, it is my responsibility to be neutral, objective, and nonjudgmental."

"Harry," Ron giggled as she stumbled into the compartment, struggling against his laughter. "Have you seen any of the Slytherin girls?"

"It's not funny Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"What isn't funny?" Harry asked, knowing that he shouldn't ask but anything that had Ron laughing that hard was likely worth knowing.

"The Slytherin girls…" Ron laughed, losing the ability to speak for a few seconds. "The Slytherin girls… they've… they've…" it was no use, he slid off his seat into the aisle, laughing incoherently while Hermione glared at him murderously.

"What did the Slytherin girls do that was so funny?" Harry asked imploringly.

"I'm not sure what Ronald found so funny, not many of the girls in Slytherin have much of a sense of humor," Luna noted. "Oh, but several of them have adopted a new hair style over the summer, one that honors the new Dark Lady."

"I am NOT a Dark Lady," Hermione insisted.

"It doesn't really do much for most of them," Luna continued as if Hermione hadn't spoken. "But Pansy… I must say, the bushy look really suits her."

"Bushy!" Ron giggled from the compartment floor. At least until Hermione kicked him. Several times.

oooOOOooo

Albus Dumbledore's eyes narrowed when he spotted Hermione Granger being escorted into the Great Hall by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, with a clearly concerned Harry Potter and an even more clearly amused Ron Weasley trailing behind. The sight of the Slytherin pair having apparently shifted their allegiance to the Granger girl seemed to lend credence to the story Severus had been telling since he had returned from a Death Eater meeting reporting that the Dark Lord was no more.

Of course the Lestranges being turned over to the Aurors by Augustus Crabbe and Millicent Parkinson for attempting to attack Harry Potter at his Uncle's home had already served to confirm his Potion Master's tale. It struck Albus as being particularly odd that Severus showing no interest in the number of young women in his house who had seemingly decided to emulate Miss Granger's hair style. That was just the sort of thing Albus had come to expect to drive Severus into a rant.

Albus directed his attention to the Slytherin table, where so many of the young women were suddenly emulating Miss Granger's hair style.

Did this sudden mass change of coiffure mean something? Was it important? He would need to speak with Minerva about that. The minds of young women had never been understandable to him.

oooOOOooo

The Welcoming Feast completed, the serving platters and dishes had disappeared, the Headmaster finished his welcoming speech, and was about to release the students to their prefects when he was interrupted in a most unexpected manner.

"Headmaster," Severus Snape said, "if I may address the students?"

Albus really was not sure what to make of this. Other than that horrible woman Umbridge the year before, no member of the staff had ever asked to address the students at the welcoming feast. Still, Severus would not be asking without a good reason.

"Of course, students, your attention, if you please. Professor Snape."

"Over the holidays," Snapes said in his normal sneering tone that carried to every corner of the Great Hall, "it was pointed out to me that I lacked certain… attributes of a successful teacher. It was also suggested that I might be treating some students… unfairly."

Severus paused for a moment while the students and staff digested this announcement. Albus was mildly surprised to see that not a single student was surprised in the slightest by either of the Potions Master's points.

"As such, I have decided to tender my resignation, effective immediately."

The room erupted into chaos with those words. Albus blinked away his surprise at Severus' unexpected resignation as the Gryffindors rose to their feet and began applauding. He would have to speak with them about that.

"I have contacted my predecessor, Professor Slughorn, who has agreed to take my place for this school year. He arrives in the morning."

Again Albus looked out over the students, many of whom appeared to be only seconds away from a massive celebration, only to have Severus continue. "And finally, I would like to recognize the change of status of Miss Hermione Granger, and express my hope that she accepts my apologies for how I have treated her over the last five years and that she isn't moved to use her new position to enact bloody vengeance upon me."

oooOOOooo

"Susan," Hermione protested, as she allowed herself to be pulled along toward one of the castle's many 'unused' classrooms. "I don't have time for this. Our N. E. W. T.s are only two years away, and I am scandalously behind in my revision…"

"There are somethings you need to make time for Hermione," the Hufflepuff explained. "Greg, could you and Vinnie make sure we're not disturbed?"

"Of course, Miss Susan," Goyle said with a grin as he and his best friend took their normal position on either side of the door.

"The Slytherins want to have a meeting with their new Dark Lady and I need to keep an eye on you and your evil plotting as part of my DMLE internship for my Auntie," Susan explained as soon as the door sealed behind them. "If I'm going to get into the Aurors after Hogwarts, I'm going to need the work study credits I get from my undercover work in your evil organization. Nepotism only goes so far."

"I am not a Dark Lady, I don't have an organization, evil or otherwise, and how can your work be undercover if you tell me about it?"

Susan paused to look over Hermione's appearance. With a critical eye, she vanished an accumulation of paper dust the Gryffindor had picked up in the library, removed an ink smudge from her cheek and straightened her friend's tie. "Hermione, I'm saying this as a friend. Pull your head out. You know you're not a Dark Lady, I know you're not a Dark Lady, but a whole lot of people believe you are. You can beat your head against the wall protesting the unfairness of it all, or you can use it to your advantage."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Did you enjoy being called a 'Mudblood'?" Susan asked. "Have you noticed that has suddenly stopped? Are you telling me that you don't enjoy seeing Draco Malfoy in his current state? Do you miss Snape? Hell, your two biggest fans are Vinnie and Greg, who came to you expecting to be little more than slaves and are thrilled to be allowed to actually achieve their dreams and not play act as idiots. All of this is happening because some very stupid people think you're capable of being evil."

"You said you were watching me for your Aunt, is she stupid as well?" Hermione asked bitterly.

"Auntie Amelia's job is to be suspicious of everyone and everything," Susan said soothingly. "Tom Riddle managed to gain his position of power because no one took him seriously when he started while in school, and Auntie is hell-bent on making sure that mistake isn't repeated. Before I talked her into my 'work study' fiction, her first inclination was to assign Auror Tonks to shadow you."

"Who?"

"I know that you know very well who she is," Susan laughed. "Tonks is anything but subtle. She said to tell you hello, and that she is far too busy house breaking her Wolfie to waste her time following a goodie goodie like you around."

"All of this is such a horrible invasion of my privacy," Hermione sighed. "And when you see Tonks, tell her I'll show her 'goodie goodie'."

"I'll do that," Susan laughed. "Now then, chin up, imperious attitude, your minions await."

"I hate you," Hermione said as she allowed herself to be pushed through the door toward her destiny. "All right. Tell the Slytherins I'll speak with them tomorrow. If we're going to do this, we need to stop by the Hufflepuff dorms."

"The dorms?" Susan asked. "Why?"

"If I'm going to be a Dark Lady, I need to recruit my most important advisor."

oooOOOooo

The meeting stretched on interminably.

Hermione was almost ready to commit herself to evil just so she could torture Pansy Parkinson into shutting up. The newly bushy haired girl was still droning on and on over organizational details for an organization that existed only inside her imagination.

It really stuck in Hermione's craw that her signature hair style looked really good on Pansy.

"And that brings us to the uniform designs for your Dark Legions, and of course, your Dark Mark," Pansy said, still bright eyed despite having wasted three hours of Hermione's life.

"My Dark Mark?" Hermione asked horrified. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Susan was struggling not to laugh. Again.

"Yes, the design committee has several examples for your considerations. Daphne?"

Daphne Greengrass stood up. Unlike Pansy, Hermione's natural bushy hair did not suit the tall girl. It rather made it look like she was wearing a fright wig for some reason, and wisps of hair were continuously falling into her eyes.

"Our first thought for the Dark Legion Uniform was the classic mysterious robes and mask ensemble made famous by the Dark Lord Derkolm in 1622, adopting, of course, the Gryffindor color scheme," she produced a detailed drawing of a wizard in blood red hooded robes, with a golden belt and mask.

"No masks," Hermione said in spite of herself.

The assembled Slytherins blinked. "But… masks are traditional," Daphne pointed out.

"Masks," Hermione insisted, "are stupid. They allow outsiders to easily infiltrate your organization. If my people need face protection, let them use a shield. No masks."

Daphne looked doubtful, and then fearful. "I'm sorry. All my designs have masks."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said, waving off her concern. "You were thinking traditionally, and there isn't anything wrong with tradition, unless it's tradition simply for tradition's sake. Show us what you've got, we'll ignore the masks."

"Uh, the next is a ceremonial uniform for the men in your Legion of Terror," Daphne said as she displayed a drawing of an exceptionally well-muscled man clad in a loincloth and a pair of leather straps across his chest in an X fashion.

"And what ceremony did you envision needing that uniform for?" Susan asked.

"Assuming we had men built like that," Tracey Davis sighed, "any ceremony we could think of."

"Yes…, well…" Hermione said, dragging her eyes away from the artwork, while wondering if it would be gauche to ask for a copy. "Perhaps it would be best to set out some guidelines for proper uniforms," maybe Susan was right, she mused. With a bit of guidance, this might turn out to be a worthwhile group. "I think we should forego any uniforms based upon Nazi storm troopers, Roman foot soldiers, Mongol hordes or former magical overlords. All of them were eventually defeated and I want my Legions of Doom to have a more positive mind-set."

Daphne looked like she was going to protest, but before she could Hermione continued, "And I would like everything to be in bright, cheerful colors, as that will throw our enemies into confusion. You might consider consulting with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil."

"Moving on," Pansy said as a dejected Daphne took her designs and retreated back to her seat, Millicent will present our preliminary designs for your Dark Mark."

Millie Bulstrode took her place at the head of the table and without introduction began her presentation. "Everyone is familiar with the Dark Mark of the last Dark Lord," the large girl presented an image of the all too familiar Snake intertwined with a Skull. "This is of course unacceptable as it was the mark of a failed campaign, and one personally offensive to our new Liege Lady."

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes at that. The Slytherins as a group seemed to think that mindless flattery was required at every turn.

"The traditional Dark Marks tend to be violent or at least phallic in nature, that didn't seem to be appropriate for the new Unending Regime, so I decided that our new marks should announce the implacable strength of femininity.

The first image presented was a massive cliff face facing a storming sea. "This is my first suggestion, symbolizing the feminine ideal of strength during adversity."

Hermione nodded in spite of herself. That one was pretty good.

The next image was the classic Venus symbol crossed with a wand.

"Not bad," Hermione nodded.

"I only have one more," Milly said in an embarrassed tone, "and I'm not sure it really fits."

The image changed to a black and white kitten with its front left paw raised.

"A kitten?" Daphne asked.

"I like kittens," Milly admitted.

"What do you think, Karen?" Hermione asked the young girl at her left.

"I like kittens too," the first year admitted. "We can always say it's a Nundu kitten to make it more frightening."

"Why is she here again?" Pansy asked, eyeing the young Hufflepuff suspiciously.

"In my research of Dark organizations," Hermione explained, "they all seem to fail, not so much from their enemies, as to bad planning. To combat that, I have decided that all of our meetings will have a Hufflepuff first year in attendance. If he or she can spot an obvious flaw in our plans, we can fall back and make changes before we expend any treasure or energy toward our goals."

"That's… brilliant," Tracey said, clearly meaning it this time. "But why a 'Puff?"

"Simple practicality, really," Hermione explained. "A Slytherin would place his or her own personal ambition over the needs of the group. A Gryffindor could be equally blinded by his or her innate heroism, and go 'Hey, it's a Dark Lord!' and try to sabotage us. Don't even get me started on Ravenclaws, they're too smart for this job and would set out to prove it to us."

"Oh. And that leaves the 'Puffs," Tracey nodded.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "Nonjudgmental, loyal to a fault and worth every knut your pay them," Hermione leaned over to hug the beaming first year. "So, everyone wants a Nundu kitten on their left forearm then?"

"Well, no," Pansy said. "We've discussed this, and we believe that we've got a better place for the Dark Mark than on the arm. We were thinking that they might go better on the small of the back."

The room filled with silence for several seconds before Hermione spoke again. "There is no way in hell that a tattoo meant to symbolize me will ever be used as a slag tag."

oooOOOooo

Hermione stood before her assembled acolytes, wondering once again, precisely what it was her father had done that had resulted in her being in this position.

"All right, everyone," she began, "I'd like to start by saying good meeting, and then follow up with a few thoughts and try to answer a few of your questions."

Hermione paused to look over the group. All girls, mostly Slytherin, mostly her year, with a few from the years above and below. "First I'd like to say, I'm flattered by the new hair styles, but honestly, it's clear that many of you are simply miserable with them. I totally understand that, having lived with this mop my entire life. You don't need to keep them, unless you want to."

A palpable wave of relief swept through the room.

"I'd like to have some options for the location of our Dark Mark by next week meeting," Hermione continued, "so if the Design Committee can work on that, I'd appreciate it. Daphne, if you find the time, I was serious about speaking with Lavender and Parvati about your uniform designs, they've both got an eye for fashion and are planning on opening a consultancy after they finish school, I think you'll find their ideas helpful. There's no rush on uniforms, take your time, wait until you've got something you love, then show it to us. Okay, that's all I've got, who has questions for me?"

Tracey hesitantly raised her hand. "When do we start our tribute?"

"I knew I'd forgotten something," Hermione sniffed, digging in her pockets for a moment, before brightening and withdrawing a coin. "We're going to need a treasurer. Any volunteers?"

"I suppose I could do it," Padma said. "I keep the books for my father's business over the summer to give my Mum a break."

"Padma has volunteered," Hermione noted, "any objections?"

After waiting several second, Hermione continued, "With no objections Padma Patil is now the treasurer for the Dark Organization that is still without a name. Pansy, since you called this meeting and have been acting as the recording secretary are you willing to remain in that position until we have a full organizational meeting to select officers and committees?"

"I am," the Slytherin nodded.

"Excellent, remind me to set up a committee to select a name for our organization at the next meeting. Okay, contributions. I'm thinking to start with a galleon a month, per family should be adequate."

"A galleon?" Pansy gasped.

"Too much?" Hermione asked.

"The Dark Lord was demanding hundreds," Daphne explained.

"And he failed," Hermione noted. "I want to be clear on this: I don't want a tribute. Any funds we accumulate are not for me, they will be for the organization that I am evidently heading. Right now, we, as an organization, have no expenses. That may change in the future, but right now, we owe no one and we are owed by no one." She reached over to place a galleon coin in front of Padma. "And the contributions to the organization's coffers starts with me."

There was silence in the room as the assembled group digested the idea that a Dark Lady would contribute to her own funds.

"If anyone has trouble coming up with a galleon each month, talk to me, we'll work something out," Hermione continued, never noticing the stir she was causing. "Any other questions?"

"I…" Daphne hesitated, "I have one. What are your end goals? Immortality?"

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione sighed. "No. A thousand times no. I can't believe that anyone who ever put any serious thought into the idea ever truly wanted to be immortal. To not die, sure, but to live forever? That sounds like a nightmare to me. What I want is power."

"Power?" Susan asked, egging her friend on.

"The power to make things better," Hermione explained, fully aware of what Susan was doing. "Voldemort's attempts at obtaining power were wasteful and short sighted."

"How so?" Pansy asked, furiously taking notes.

"His way got people killed," Hermione pointed out. "Some Muggleborn and halfbloods, but for the most part, Purebloods, the group he was supposedly attempting to glorify."

"But if you're going for power," Padma asked, "won't your rise result in the same thing?"

"Voldemort's problem was he thought small," Hermione said. "I want political power. It will be the goal of our organization to place our people into positions of power in the Ministry, and with that power, make the changes that will guarantee us all opportunity and the chance to make things better than we found them. We won't do this through the power of the wand, but through the power of politics. We won't be raising an army to over throw the Wizengamot, we will, through the political process make the Wizengamot our own."

"So, you aren't intending for this to be a Dark Organization?" Millie asked, disappointment clear in her voice.

"I didn't say that," Hermione said with an evil grin. "It just seems to me that you can get away with doing much darker things, when you do them legally."

oooOOOooo

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, "Are you okay? You haven't been this busy since third year with the time turner."

Hermione collapsed onto the sofa in between Harry and Ron, laying back and going limp. "I know, organizational meetings, committees, conferences, it never stops. If I'd known how much of a pain forming a Dark organization was, I'd have stayed in bed."

"You'd be getting more of my sympathies if I didn't know you have been planning to do exactly this with Harry and me anyway," Ron grinned.

Hermione blushed in embarrassment at that. "I didn't know you knew about my plans."

"Of course we knew," Harry snorted, passing her an ice cold bottle of butterbeer. "The only thing that kept us safe from your plans was the constant threats to our lives."

"Voldemort saved us," Ron laughed reaching across Hermione to clink his bottle with Harry's. "How many people can say that?"

"Just us, mate," Harry agreed. "Fortunately, just when Hermione's dad offed the bastard, Hermione got a new set of minions so we're safe."

"I am going to put you both back on the Undesirables list," Hermione sighed.

"No you won't," Harry said, laying his head on her shoulder.

"You love us," Ron added. "And we tolerate you. You're the scary psychotic sister I've always wanted."

"Excuse me?" Ginnie asked as she sat down on the squashy chair across from the trio. "I seem to recall you already having a sister. In fact, I seem to recall being that sister."

Ron sat up straighter on the sofa and hurriedly crossed his legs. "Oh, come on Gin," he said hastily, "You're the scary psychotic sister I've always had. You didn't understand the context of what I was talking about."

"Context?" Ginny asked, an evil grin on her lips, "that's a big word for you big brother."

"Ron uses words," Harry pointed out as he handed Ginny a butterbeer, "and he knows what some of them mean too."

"What is this?" Ron asked plaintively, "pick on Ron day?"

"Since when have we needed a special day for that?" Ginny asked sweetly.

Hermione looked back and forth between the siblings in confusion. "I don't understand you two, I really don't. Why are all your brothers always so frightened of you, Ginny? I mean sure, your Bat Bogey hex is nasty, but…"

"You think we're all scared of the little psycho because of her Bogey hex?" Ron asked incredulously. "The twins taught her the Bogey hex to calm her down and get her to stop what she had been doing."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"When Ginny was five or so, we might have picked on her a bit," Ron admitted.

"A bit?" Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.

"A bit, and you deserved it," Ron continued. "But Bill didn't see it that way, Bill was always much more protective of Ginny than the rest of us. One day, he caught Charlie and the Twins pranking her and he took her aside to teach her to defend herself."

"Good old Bill," Ginny said with a fond smile.

"Yeah, good old Bill," Ron said sarcastically. "He taught her how to defend herself against boys, never thinking that his sweet baby sister might be not be the angel he imagined her to be."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Bill taught Ginny how to defend herself against boys," Ron said again, emphasizing the last word.

"I am the world's leading expert in 40 different testicle based attacks," Ginny said with a side smile.

Harry winced and emulated Ron's crossed legs, while Hermione's interest suddenly piqued.

"38 different attacks, Gin," Ron sniffed, "don't exaggerate."

"I've learned two more since the school year started," Ginny explained. "Wanna see?"

"Bloody hell, no!"

"Ginny," Hermione said tentatively, "I know the Weasleys are a historically Light family, but could I possibly interest you in a position in an entirely legal Dark organization?"

"What would the position be?" Ginny asked.

"Enforcer."

"Intriguing," Ginny said.

Ron and Harry watched in silence while the two girls wondered off to discuss Ginny's career opportunities.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, mate?" the redhead responded.

"You know how I said that I was thinking about asking Gin out?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I don't think I'll be doing that anymore."

oooOOOooo

"Miss Granger?" The uniformed Auror asked.

Hermione stood holding the door she had opened when the doorbell rang, trying to remember if any of her magical visitors had ever rung it before. Always a first time. Perhaps her Christmas Hols wouldn't be completely boring.

"Yes?"

"Auror Lincoln," the older woman said to identify herself. "Director Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement asked if you wouldn't mind coming in for a bit of a tour?"

A tour? That surprised Hermione. She hadn't heard of anyone being offered a tour by the DMLE before. Still, Mum and Dad would be out until late, some official holiday dinner they attended as part of the BDA, leaving her to fend for herself, so, why not?

"A tour sounds interesting, let me get my coat."

oooOOOooo

"You," Susan said quietly, "have made a mistake." She sat back in the chair facing her Aunt's desk. She had always loved her Aunt's office. It had been a place of honor and courage, a place where stories of great battles between the forces of right and wrong were told and retold. After today the office would lose a lot of its shine. "A huge mistake."

"There are times when lessons must be taught," Amelia Bones disagreed. "I have given Miss Granger every opportunity to walk away from this Dark Lady nonsense, and all she has done is build her organization."

"An entirely legal organization, with published membership, school sponsorship, and which, by the way, has done absolutely nothing wrong, Auntie Amelia," Susan pointed out. "In spite of all of that, you sent Hermione to Azkaban."

"For a visit," Amelia laughed. "It's an idea I've stolen from the Yanks. They call their program 'Scared Straight', but I think I'm going to call it 'Scared Light'."

"What you're going to call it is 'unmitigated mistake'," Susan sighed. "You persist in thinking that Hermione Granger is just little girl you can bully into behaving."

"She's not?"

"No, she's not," Susan said. "Have you forgotten that she and four others followed Harry Potter into an obvious trap last year? They ended up facing off against Death Eaters that would have had the majority of your Aurors pissing themselves, and she was still ready and willing to spit in Voldemort's eye if it kept him away from Harry."

"Susan," Amelia sighed, "I know she's your friend, but really, you can't possibly believe half the stories going around about Potter, Granger and the Weasley boy, can you?"

"Which of the stories should I discount Auntie?" Susan asked acidly, "the ones I directly witnessed, or the ones people I trust implicitly directly witnessed? The children of the surviving Death Eaters all claim that Hermione's father was instrumental in the fall of Voldemort, " Susan ignored her Aunt's reaction to the name and carried on, "if you recall your reasons for asking me to monitor her actions. Hermione did not start recruiting followers, she was content with guiding Harry and Ron Weasley through school. They came to her, and what did she do? Go on a rampage of crime and terror? No, oh horror of horrors, the Dark Lady Hermione Granger formed a club that could laughingly be called 'dark'. One committed to acts of public service and good grades, with the ultimate goal of its members taking their places in society as contributing adults with a common goal."

"Susan," Amelia sighed, "your naivety is endearing, it truly is, but I've been doing this job for quite a while now, and I know what I'm doing."

A paper airplane darted into the room and landed in Amelia's in basket. She opened the missive and smiled. "Miss Granger has arrived. I'm going to ask you to remain silent or leave. I cannot have your affection for the girl interfere with what I am trying to do."

"Oh, I'll be quiet Auntie," Susan assured her aunt. "I wouldn't miss this for the world.

oooOOOooo

"Madam Bones," Hermione Granger said in greeting once she was shown into the office of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Miss Granger," Amelia nodded. "I trust your visit to Azkaban prison was educational?"

"Oh, entirely so," Hermione agreed. "With whom do I file my charges?"

"Excuse me?" was all Amelia could think of.

"Madam Bones," the girl said, digging into the satchel she carried and extracting a thick bound book. "This is for you, I think you might find it interesting reading."

Amelia accepted the book, glancing at the cover for the title, European Convention on Human Rights

"I find myself confused, Miss Granger, what has this," she asked, gesturing with the book, "have to do with your visit to Azkaban prison or your question about filing charges?"

"As I said, you will find the European Convention on Human Rights to be interesting reading," Hermione pointed out. "A quick review will show you that the mere existence of your Azkaban prison is a blatant violation of international law."

"Muggle law," Amelia pointed out.

"Madam Bones," the girl said in a condescending tone, "are you claiming that Magical Britain is a separate nation not subject to the laws of the United Kingdom?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you claiming, that your oath, and indeed the oaths of all office holders of the Ministry isn't to the Monarch? Are you claiming that the Minister of Magic, who's other title is the Queen's Wizard, doesn't report to the Prime Minister?" the girl continued.

Amelia was taken completely off guard by this line of questioning. She struggled to reassert her authority. "Miss Granger, Witches and Wizards are not subject to the laws of Muggles."

"Excuse me, Madam Bones, but I believe you are incorrect," Hermione Granger said coldly. "Nothing in the Statute of Secrecy offers that immunity, nothing but generations of undeserved arrogance. You sent me to Azkaban in an incredibly transparent attempt to teach me a lesson. Congratulations, you succeeded. I had, of course, heard stories about that horrible place, but I never really believed them. After all, we're British. It's almost the 21st century. We're better than that."

Amelia found herself locking eyes with a clearly furious young woman. "Clearly I was wrong. Innocent people have been sent to that horrible place without trial. Innocent people have been sent to that place so that the Minister could be seen to have been doing something. And you, the supposed Director of Magical Law Enforcement stood by and did nothing. You go on about the Dark and the Light, allow things like that to happen, and pretend there is a difference. Explain the difference to me Director, tell me how you and Lucius Malfoy are in any way different."

Amelia shot out of her chair in fury. "You cannot come into my office and speak to me like this!"

"And what happens if I do?" Granger hissed. "Will I be sent to Azkaban? Will a Ministry appointed Undersecretary have me do lines with a blood quill? We've been there, Director. We've done that, we've bought the tee shirts. The 'laws of Muggles' as you put it are the laws of our Queen, to whom you swore your oath of office. The poor primitive Muggles have somehow managed to follow these laws since 1953. Surely we all powerful Wizards can manage to pull ourselves out of the 13th century to match their achievements, no?"

"This meeting is over," Amelia shouted. "Get out of my office."

"It is over," the girl nodded. "Just know this, Madam Bones, both the Prime Minister and the Queen will be made aware of your failure to abide by the Queen's laws."

"You expect me to believe that you know the Muggle Queen and Prime Minister?" Amelia asked.

"I don't know them personally," Hermione admitted, picking up her satchel. "But I do know their dentists. Susan, have a happy Christmas, I'll see you at school in January."

oooOOOooo

"Happy Christmas to you as well Hermione," Susan called after her friend as the door closed.

"Well, that could have gone better," Susan said as her aunt sat down behind her desk again. "If only someone could have predicted that the meeting might have gone like this. If only someone might have called it an 'unmitigated mistake' before it ever happened."

"Susan," Madam Bones said pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, wait, someone did say that. It was me. If only someone had listened to me."

"Susan, that is quite enough," Amelia snapped.

Silence filled the room for several minutes. "You were right," Amelia admitted. "How did you know how she would react?"

"I've known Hermione Granger for almost six years now," Susan explained. "At first we thought she was a bit odd, hanging out with a pair of boys all the time, but she is our cohort's swot of all swots. Whenever anyone, from any house needs a concept from class explained, she is the one who can explain it. When you speak with someone that much, you end up talking about more than assignments. Hermione loves the magical world, she truly does. She loves all the things we do better than the Muggles, and is amused by the things we do the same."

"I see," Amelia nodded.

"What infuriates her, is the things we do worse than the Muggles. What she calls our 'fixation with the 13th century'. Centuries of unchanging robes rather than the far more comfortable, durable and frankly more attractive Muggle alternatives for example. As soon as you told me you had her taken to Azkaban yesterday I knew you had made a mistake."

"Why?"

Susan smiled, "I went to primary school with Hannah, remember? You and Da had a huge argument about that because homeschooling was good enough for your family forever, but Mum thought that seeing how the Muggles live would be good for me and Da always goes along with Mum. We use torture at Azkaban. It is so routine that even Light Families like ours think of it as normal. British Muggles don't use torture… At least they're not supposed to, it's part of how they see themselves. I knew that what you were trying to frighten Hermione with was going to make her insanely angry."

Susan stood up and crossed the office to the door. "I should be going. Mum asked me to remind you to bring your famous cheddar mashed potatoes for Christmas Dinner."

"I will," Amelia nodded.

"Bye, Auntie Amelia," Susan waved on her way out the door.