Chapter Thirty-Two: Actions Have Consequences.

Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.

OOOO

The slap was expected, yet still painful. Her eyes blinked in the dark, muted light as she began to feebly struggle at her restraints, prior to slipping back into the gentle embrace of unconsciousness. Of course, her captors then decided to use cold water to achieve their aims. Gasping for breaths in the chilled shipping container, Cordelia sucked in deep, shuddering breaths. She had not been in a situation like this for years. Not since acting as a covert spy for the Aurors against Voldemort during the Blood Wars. Still, rather than gasping, and betraying her discomfort, the woman simply allowed her head to loll backwards. Entirely unsupported in the cold air. "Two-and-a-half weeks ago one of our operatives watched as you were apprehended by a Phoenix belonging to Albus Dumbledore. During the following two days you went off of the radar entirely. What transpired over the course of your time in his presence?"

He was a handsome young, French thing. Golden hair, green eyes, muscles that rippled with less threat than that of his magical presence. She spat in his face, or would have if not for a horrible case of cottonmouth. "Captivity, Walsh." Cordelia ground out despite the blood that had dried in her nasal cavity. "He has been watching me. I should have suspected. Britain has become a hotbed of foreign interference of late. I should have been looking more closely at those who purported to be my friends."

"Good. Some answers. We hardly had to electrocute you this time, Cordelia," The American shrew, Marnie Sableton, slipped into Cordelia's failing line of vision. "Now what did you tell him?"

"He had me beaten." She admitted, "Alastor Moody knows his way around a Cruciatus Curse or two. Snape had Veritaserum ready. Dumbledore wants to take my granddaughter from me. To control her. Just like your lot wants to." There was a deep breath as her eyes suddenly blazed. They hadn't contained so much light, so much defiance in ages. "Hermione is too smart to ever trust him. Not completely at least. Especially if I were to disappear. Much too analytical, observational. She is aware of my mannerisms. Behavior. Even if they kept me around for deception by Polyjuice, or simply transfigured one of his cronies into my form it would hardly deceive her for very long. He needs me just as much as you need me."

"You need us too, hag," Walsh snarled, pointing his wand in her face balefully.

"But you need me just the same as Dumbledore does. She may not be as pretty as you, Walsh," Cordelia smiled dangerously, "But Sableton knows this is the truth."

The aforementioned witch brushed a tuft of black hair behind her ear. "Put it away Walsh, and let her go. We need a full debrief before you can go back to London."

"Of course," Cordelia smiled, shining her blood-stained, perfectly straight teeth their way.

OOOO

First Years kissed her feet when she passed them in the Slytherin Common Room.

Pansy Parkinson brushed her hair in the evenings when she returned from a long day of classes.

Draco Malfoy and his goons guarded her as she walked the halls of Hogwarts.

Older boys of the purest blood suddenly seemed quite eager to talk to her, flirt with her.

None of it had been worth the sacrifice.

What many did not realize about Dark Magic was the price it exacted. There was innocence in an untainted mind. A perspective that had not yet been covered in the filth and grime of hatred, death, destruction. The Dark Lord might not have inhabited her body as he had Quirrell's, yet they were linked mentally. Tracey had been such a foolish child, imagining that he would be easier to manage without the threat of his once gargantuan magical core. She had underestimated how difficult it was to tame a berserk dog. He pelted her unprotected mind with the images he wished for her to see, distorted her reality, filled her soul with unwelcome knowledge. Before the Mabon ritual Tracey had not known how to skin a man alive with nothing more than her wand. Before she had not known what it was like to torture a young woman into insanity. Before she had not known what it was like to murder.

Now she did.

He never deigned to speak to her. They both knew what she had done on Mabon, how a halfblood had managed to foil the beginning stage of his inevitable resurrection. That alone was a punishment worthy of death upon his return. Tracey suddenly realized something a child born at the end of the Blood War would not have ever known. Lord Voldemort was unstoppable, ruthless, hungry for the world. She had crossed the Dark Lord, and he would hunt her across mountains, seas, and oceans. No ward would keep her safe from his wrath. Whenever the girl grew too arrogant, too defiant he would simply send her an image from when she had been no more than a babe. Of how he violated the Fidelius Charm that protected the Potters. Stepped over James Potter's corpse and stroked his dead face with a bare foot. Lily Potter's screams for mercy echoed in Tracey's ears every time Harry Potter came anywhere near.

So it came to pass that she found herself in the library one evening. Homework long finished, yet desperate to research some way in which the visions might stop. She raised her hand to brush back her hair only to glance at it in absolute horror. Coated in blood. Her eyes flickered forth, examining the dark dungeon, no longer a safe library, lit only by flames. They hung from the ceiling, dripping, dripping, dripping, dripping endlessly. Mudbloods, yet still of magical blood. Sitting there, in the middle of the ocean, was Voldemort. In his storied glory, from before Harry Potter had reduced him to little more than a phantom. Pale, grey flesh glistened nakedly against the slick, dungeon floors. Musculature as sleek and dangerous as that of a serpent's writhed about under the glistening coat of blood and gore. Eyes as red as blazing rubies peered into her very essence. Forgiveness. The single word soothed her rebellion, her prolonged agony. As he welcomed her into his embrace she knew what needed to be done.

So when she found herself sitting in the library again, blinking away the images of the Dark Lord, Tracey was not at all surprised to see Cassius Warrington sitting across from her. "What must we do, Tracey? What does the Dark Lord wish of us?" He asked so innocently, so very much uncorrupted.

"Sunset to sunset, and a Greenwood Marriage. Motherly maiden bathed in unicorn's blood. Unified with her husband, the strongest of your house, amidst a bed of burning thorns." The voice was high-pitched, cold, and gigglish. Not her's. Deigning only to give barely enough information to aid in the achievement of its desire. Cassius merely watched in shock and awe as she gripped his hand from across the table. Too stupid to run and hide, Tracey lamented silently, yet too powerful for his own good. The Dark Lord agreed.

OOOO

Freedom, Cedric realized as he studied with his girlfriend, suited Hermione Granger better than any color or piece of clothing ever could. Since the Mabon ritual she had been visibly liberated from beneath a mountain of pressure. Her hair wild, bushy mane crackled with untapped energy. The bags beneath her eyes had diminished to mild bruises. Despite the academic pressures she subjected herself to he was finally able to get her to eat again. They even went on runs together every so often when he didn't have Quidditch practice. He started to realize in that moment that perhaps marriage was not in their books. She wasn't something to be conquered or tamed, and strangely Cedric was quite fine with that idea. After all, he knew too well what it meant to be beaten into submission like a pet.

Wrenching the dark memories from his mind the handsome Hufflepuff peered at his notes. Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions were going as well as he could have hoped. Disastrously overwhelming yet still Cedric somehow was managing to compete a bit below the top of the pack. "I'm proud of you Ced," Hermione whispered suddenly, prompting him to look up, her pretty brown eyes flicking in Pince's direction carefully. "You decided to live for yourself and not your dad. Hell, you even managed to get Snape to put you into the NEWT classes. Quidditch Captain. Prefect. The most loyal friend I could have asked for." She reached over and placed her hand over his. Cedric was quick to intertwine his fingers with her's. They sat together that way for a long while, allowing the anxiety to leave their bodies.

This was comfortable, he realized, far more comfortable than he would have been with friends, or even in bed by himself. She certainly challenged him though. Cedric would have probably allowed himself to be browbeaten into a Ministry job had Hermione not helped him see his potential. Though despite the discomfort of growth it was something he enjoyed quite thoroughly. He wondered at how their relationship was such an odd set of paradoxes and unexplainable conondroms.

A sharp click was all that alerted him to the fact that anything was at all wrong. Hermione had barely thrown herself from the chair before the table splintered as vibrant yellow light erupted across the growing crack. Nearby students began to scream. Madam Pince rushed forth with dark, angry eyes. "CEDRIC!" Hermione gasped in terror from her spot on the floor as a flash of golden light ripped across the library. He was barely clever enough to throw up a Shielding Charm before the legs of his chair twisted to the right with a sharp crack. The sheer force of the energy picked him up and threw him across the room.

Hermione's screams echoed above the rest as he descended into a hazy, golden cloud.

OOOO

"The attack was caused by an explosive pinned under the table with what must have been Spellotape. Too melted to even perform a trace on the brand or identify who enchanted the original stock, mind you." The Auror sounded quite excited to be in the middle of it all. "Our diagnostics expert has no idea what could have caused such a phenomenon to occur-."

"Your diagnostics expert is a fool, Auror Fobins." Snape sneered disgustedly, "I have been able to reverse engineer the Potion down to its ingredients. Septima and Bathsheda were able to determine the trajectories of the explosion and verify my findings." The Potion's Master crossed his arms neatly together. "A very simple mixture. Bound together with a presumably complex incantation. Nothing that has been invented, or claimed, as of yet. Far beyond the abilities of a bunch of school students. As determined as they are I highly doubt these Knights of Walpurgis are quite up to snuff."

"Well," Scrimgeour sighed from his seat, "Hermione Granger and her boyfriend were targeted in the middle of Hogwarts. Clearly someone has been observing their patterns of movement. Daphne Greengrass, after all, stated clearly for the record when questioned that they always study at that table. Could it be another instructor like Quirrell? Mayhaps this Remus Lupin, or even someone in this very room?" Though his eyes remained locked pointedly on Dumbledore, the insinuation directed towards Snape hung thick on the air.

"How dare you," McGonagall snapped shortly, "Professor Snape is nothing short of a professional. His actions in the war as a spy were nothing short of heroic. What he sacrificed is nothing close to your barbaric acts beneath the tenure of Barty Crouch, Rufus! A man whose own son was a Death Eater!" Then her lips grew even tighter, "Remus Lupin was a close friend of the Potter's. Why on earth would he want to murder their son's best friend?"

"The same could be asked of Sirius Black, Professor," Came the terse, cold response. "Hermione Granger and her beau, Diggory, was it? Yes. They are both nothing short of prodigies. Who is to say that Hogwarts is not simply producing students of a certain caliber again? Perhaps Professor Snape is merely underestimating the abilities of his own Slytherins. The Knights of Walpurgis are very much still under suspicion." He paused, "Truly, Albus, the Dark Lord under your nose in 1991, the Chamber of Secrets and Voldemort, again, in 1992. Now shall we round out 1993 with a sadistic terror organization?"

"You may leave, Mr. Scrimgeour," The Headmaster spoke out the words in a deceptively warm, light tone. "I must see to the wellbeing of any injured students. You likely must deliver a report to Minister Bones." He waited until the Floo had flashed its final, angry green sparks before speaking again. "What is the status of Miss Granger's health?"

"She is awake. Refuses to leave Mr. Diggory's bedside." Minerva answered in a raw, emotionally wounded tone. The last was clearly a dig at the Headmaster for forgetting to ask about a student, a Prefect in fact. "He managed to shield himself right before the explosion tossed him into a bookshelf. The cloud of light that engulfed the space, as you know, provided cover for another student to attack Miss Granger unawares. They were not expecting her to be ready, of course." She paused, "I must check in with Cordelia Morrigan and the Grangers before the Prophet catches wind of this incident. Poor family. They might even pull her from the school after this. Not that I would blame them."

Snape finally revealed his thoughts when McGonagall had left. "That Potion was unlike anything I have ever seen before. Carefully designed to cause just the right series of effects. Even the precision of a Master's understanding of Arithmancy and Runes could not accomplish such a finely tuned orchestration. The trajectory, the psychedelic effect meant to incapacitate any victims. If not for her premonition Hermione Granger might very well be dead."

"We must consider the safety of our students." Dumbledore sighed, "It is dangerous business allowing the Ministry a foothold into this school. Even Minister Bones cannot control the propagandists who are in her employ. Had they attacked Mr. Potter, or Miss Greengrass… Well I doubt that either are as talented as Miss Granger in the art of evasion. The only way to keep control is to bring in a stronger deterrent. Aurors must be allowed to guard the grounds." His brow furrowed, "Keep your ears to the ground. Severus. Perhaps Rufus was correct. Maybe your Slytherins are rifling through their parent's libraries."

"I'll try my best," The oily man sighed, "Though how many times must Granger bleed before we finally send her to Beauxbatons?"

"There is worse to come," Dumbledore answered stoically, "Beauxbatons will not prepare her for it."

OOOO

Johanna Smith perched at the table in a dark silence. Her husband had yet to wake for work, breakfast had still not been started, yet she could not peel her eyes from Witch Weekly. '...Mistress would get mad when Sippy was not fast enough. One time, when Sippy was pregnant with her fourth baby, Mistress was disappointed that Sippy had not brought out tea in time. Sippy remembers their eyes, all of those ladies and their eyes as they watched. Some of them smiled, Mistress laughed as she poured the kettle of hot tea over Sippy's head, and punched Sippy in the stomach. When Sippy miscarried, Mistress clothed her for spilling 'filthy blood' on the floor.' Sippy did not allow herself to die, though sometimes, Sippy admitted, the idea crossed her mind. Instead Sippy survived anyway she could. Working for slum lords in the shadows of magical Britain, running drugs such as Powdered Dragon Claw, and eventually finding herself forced into prostitution. Sippy never quite knew why she persisted on through such misery. Until an early afternoon when the Elfish Advancement Organization, EAO, brought her into one of the safehouses established by none other than Hermione Granger and her co-President, a Free Elf named Dobby Proud-Free. They recorded her story, examined her health and treated any injuries sustained during her period of homelessness. Sippy now oversees a chain of the fastest, most reputable Wand Polishing Stands in magical Britain. Though, according to Mr. Proud-Free, Sippy is most happy about something simpler. A dignity many of us take for granted. Her name. 'My name is Sippy Belt-Beaten. Si-I, Sippy Belt-Beaten, shall never forget where I come, or the belt that gave Sippy her freedom. I's will fight until I find my babies whose were stolen from me and sold.' We stand behind you Sippy. You will never be forgotten, or left behind again.

*Transcribed from the official archive of the EAO, as originally recorded by Dobby Proud-Free. Interview conducted by Selene Sallow. Next week in a continuation of her exploration into the dark world of slavery on the British Isles, Ms. Sallow shall interview Mr. Proud-Free himself, and investigate how he grew into such a revolutionary leader for the freed Elfish community.

Johanna wiped the tears from her eyes as she quivered with indignity. Mostly anger at her own lifetime of inaction. Elves, viciously enslaved and abused. Though now it was quite obvious that the little creatures she had dismissed as odd were so despicably mistreated. Fingers splayed out over her pregnant belly, the witch wondered how she would feel if the shoe had been on the other foot. Fingers clenching into fists she swiftly peeked at the address for the EAO. Perhaps volunteers were needed, and there was ever so much spare time during the day after Gerald left for work.

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I am SO close to getting a fanfic over the 1000 mark. I seriously need to just stay consistent. (I can hardly be faulted for having wanted this achievement under my belt since I was like, eight.) Also, I am sick of people in the community trying to lambast Hermione for supporting Elves. I don't care if they were brainwashed into liking it, or 'enjoyed' serving their owners. It is WRONG. This is going to be a big theme in this story down the road. Harry Potter was a kid's book, but can you imagine the atrocities that our eyes were likely being shielded from? Beheaded Elves indicates other awful, horrendous atrocities. Mixed Elf-wizards in Fantastic Beasts means that Elves have probably been assaulted too. Fictional rant over, I really appreciate everyone reading. Even if the chapters are a bit shorter I will do my best to stay current. Stay safe, calm, and well, I am sending love and light y'all.