Fundi Hogwarts | By : sappysappysappy Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4364 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not profit from the writing of this story. |
Vice and device
Go hand in hand.
Vision and division
Are one and the same.
From The Booklet of Hermione Granger
Chapter 1 – Hermione Granger, Feminist
"Who do you think our DADA Professor will be this year?" Harry asked his friends.
"Dunno mate," Ron answered. "But did you hear? Professor McGonagall won't be the Deputy any longer. My dad told me just before we boarded."
"What, you mean Hermione Granger actually won?" Neville piped in.
"Could be," Ron chuckled. "You never know what that girl is capable of." His eyes became unfocused and a goofy smile stole over his face.
Harry kicked him.
"What'd you do that for?" Ron whined.
"You know why. If you don't watch out, Ron," he told him, "one of these days, the Hex will get you. She may not be a 'proper' Hogwarts girl but your package would still end up hexed off. You don't want that to happen, do you?"
Ron gulped, looking ill, before putting his grin back on. "I didn't say anything improper, Harry."
"You were thinking it. Admit it, you're in lurve." Harry puckered his lips. "Oh, Ron! Forget about your package. Kiss me, my fool. You know you wanna. Smooch smooch smoo-!"
Ron shoved him away. "Stop it, mate. That's not funny. For the last time, I am not in lurve with Hermione. I can take care of 'my package' by myself, thank you very much… mates."
Neville was in stitches. "Oh Ron," he joined in, "I'm such a progressive girl. I'll still love you if you lose your package. Do it for the Cause. Be brave and kiss me!"
"Shut up! I'm telling you, that's not funny."
"Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are," Harry managed to say between bouts of giggles.
Ron turned away from them in a huff.
"Come on, Ron. Stop sulking. We're just trying to look out for you like good mates should."
"And for your package. We mustn't forget your package," Harry butted in.
Ron snorted before he could help himself. "Fine, fine, but I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself, guys."
"Oh yeah? Then what were you trying to pull off last Halloween? I saw the way you–"
Ron's face reddened.
"Guys!" Neville yelped. "Guys." He looked red as a beet. "Look," he muttered and nodded his head at the compartment door. It was open. Hermione Granger was standing there. She didn’t look amused. Then again, she rarely did.
Harry closed his mouth. How much did she hear? Better play it straight. "Hi, Granger. What are you doing down here? If a prefect discover you traipsing in a boys’ carriage, you'll get detention again, before school even starts!"
Ron Chuckled. "And for your information, young miss, we two are prefects this year, so you better watch your step with us."
Hermione glanced up and down the corridor and entered quickly. "Hi, guys." She took a seat next to Ron. "You're prefects now? That's perfect. Now we can use you to take the war to their turf. If you learn any new passwords you must give them to me right away. The things I could do with the password to the Deputy Headmistress' Office… but even the Prefects' Bathroom might prove useful. I found some new Sticking Charms for my posters that even Flitwick might have a hard time undoing. Imagine –"
"Whoa, hold on, Hermione. We never agreed to help you. We're Prefects now. Mother would skin me alive if she learned I was helping you sabotage school property. She ordered me to have no contact with you."
"Like you'll listen to her this year. Ron, the Cause is too important, you cannot slack off now. It is wrong to limit the girls' freedom to their own bodies. It is wrong to put bounds on their freedom of movement. It is wrong to give the girls different curriculums! I've checked, you know. Witches in other countries can learn the same spells as wizards in their schools. We're not living in the Middle Ages for fuck's sake. They have to see that. It's just plain wrong. You have to keep faith and be strong. I just know that if we keep on trying, eventually the Ministry and the teachers would realize their errors. I made a whole bunch of new pamphlets. I had my mother help me with them. She was a feminist activist as well when she was young, you know. She had some old pamphlets stored up from her rallying days. Here, let me show you. I've got loads and loads of them. I'm sure that with these pamphlets and your help I can recruit a whole bunch of students. See, this one says 'Witches are people too' it explains what a load of hogwash their excuses really are and this one, look, it's titled ‘END SEGRAGATION! Separate is NOT Equal’. McGonagall will have a fit when she sees it. I like this one best: 'Freedom, Equality, One Curriculum!' Read it. Go on, take them. I told you, I've got loads of them.”
Harry, Ron and Neville exchanged long-suffering looks and held out their hands to receive arm-loads of pamphlets, stickers and pins. Harry eyed Hermione’s bag suspiciously. “It’s bigger on the inside, isn’t it?”
Hermione beamed at them. “It is. It’s a bottomless bag! I bought it this summer when I went to Diagon Alley. It’s got all the space I need for studying and,” she crowed, “fighting the Cause. Isn’t it great?”
Ron hurriedly scooched away from the bag. “Yes. Great,” he muttered through a rictus of a grin.
"Oh, don’t mind him,” Harry told her. “I’m sure you’ll do great. With your new pamphlets, other girls will soon flock to your cause.”
Hermione’s grin dimmed, noticeably. “They will. Those blind fools won’t be resting on their precious laurels this year. I will make them understand! I won’t give up. You’ll see. This year will be different. I’m older now. McGonagall and all her fool hens won’t manage to dismiss my opinions so easily now. This year McGonagall will be routed!”
Harry cleared his throat. “Actually, she already is. She’s been sacked.”
Hermione stared wide eyed at them. “She’s… sacked?”
Harry grinned back at her. “Yes, sacked. Ron told us the news, just before you arrived.” Personally, he rather liked their strict, no-nonsense Head of House, but Hermione Granger was almost a pal and she loathed McGonagall. Harry always supported his pals. “Say, Ron, do you know who will replace her? Will one of the other professors be our Head of House now? And who will teach Transfiguration?”
Ron pumped his chest out self importantly at their combined attention, especially Hermione’s. “Well, dad said she’d still be our Transfiguration Professor and Head of House. She just won’t be the Deputy Headmistress any more. This year’s Hogwarts letters will be the last ones she signs. And,” he grinned expansively at Hermione, “she won’t be saying ‘as long as I’m Deputy Headmistress of this school, this will not stand, Miss Granger!’ to you ever again.”
Hermione grinned back. "It’s a shame she’s still our Head of House but emancipating the Deputy office from her clutches is a great blow to the Powers of Oppression keeping us down,” Hermione crowed, finally finding her voice again.
"How did it happen?” Neville butted in.
Ron scratched his chin. “I’m not sure. No offence, Hermione, but I doubt your campaign had much to do with it.”
Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.
"Though, come to think of it, dad didn’t look happy. He tried making light of it, but I reckon he was mad. He even told me, before I bordered, to obey my Professors and be respectful. Something’s up.”
They couldn’t decide what made Mr. Weasley mad. In the end they tabled the subject and talked about their various summer vacations instead.
"And then, we all went camping,” Harry told Neville and Granger. “It was great! You have to be in one to appreciate what a magical tent is, Granger. It’s not just bigger on the inside. It’s like a secret house, with plumbing and rooms and everything, all inside this ordinary seeming tent. And Mr. Weasley said it was a modest model with just the bare bones. Just imagine…” Harry got starry eyed.
Hermione eyed him pityingly. “You’d like to have one yourself, don’t you? You could live properly in one and not be dependent on those horrid Dursley relatives of yours.”
"You bet your ass I would.” Harry nodded. “I hate them, even if they did take me in after my parents died in that car crash. Always rubbing my nose in how much I owe them for every little thing they did for me. If I have a magical tent, I can set it up in my room and it would be like, living in my own home. If I buy enough preserved foods, I won’t even have to see the Dursleys.”
"Why didn’t you? Buy a tent, I mean,” Neville asked.
"Oh, well, I don’t know. I should buy one, shouldn’t I?”
"Definitely,” Hermione replied. “Are they very expensive?”
"Depends on the model. I went to the store when we were in Diagon Alley. There were so many types. Some are even custom-made! They’re not as expensive as some brooms.”
"’Course not,” Ron cried out, outraged. Neville nodded his agreement, all belligerent. “No tent could equal your Firebolt or even a Nimbus 2000! The mere idea’s absurd,” Ron pronounced. Neville nodded once more.
Harry conceded their point after a moment. Nothing could upstage riding his beloved Firebolt. Not even a magic secret home inside a magical tent.
"Be that as it may,” Hermione interrupted the boys’ silent ruminations on the greatness of Harry’s Firebolt and flying brooms in general, “I’ve got a great idea. What do you say we all go to Diagon Alley during the Christmas break and buy Harry a tent as a joint present from the three of us? You can come too, Harry, and help us pick the tent you like best. That way you won’t feel awkward buying it.”
Harry looked, wonderingly, from one face to the other, “you would really do that for me? I’ll pony up the money. Don’t worry. I’ve got enough in my account,” he added after a moment.
All three of them agreed. Of course they would help him. Hermione felt warm inside. These three were her only friends in school. She’d made no friends among her fellow witchlets. Buying a magical tent for Harry Potter with the others made her feel included. If only they weren’t segregated over stupid gender in school!
Pretty soon, Hermione had to leave. The chances of discovery by Agents of the Authority were simply too great. With a final wave, she exited the compartment and quickly disillusioned herself into her newest costume: a bearded, dirty boiler-man, complete with worn out uniform, heavy gloves and, of course, coal stains. It was fun, walking confidently up the corridors and watch anyone she passed make room for her. Much better than furtively sneaking invisibly like a thief in the night. She even doffed her fake cap to a couple of them in mock respect. She reached the girls’ section just in time. She was the ostracised, studious, Miss Granger, alone, as usual, in her compartment, when Angelina Johnson, the new Head-Girl, opened her compartment door to check her off on the roll call list.
Hermione stared moodily at the door after Angelina left. She could hear giggling from the neighbouring compartment. What were they so happy about? She wanted to march over there and smack some sense into them. That’d show them! That was not the way, Hermione scolded herself. Violence achieved nothing. If anyone should know that, it was her. She had the stripes to prove that. She’d just soldier on. But it was so frustrating. She felt so futile. What were the chances her campaign would make a shite of difference this year? Even with horrid McGonagall thrown out of the Deputy seat, would any of her classmates listen to her message? She grit her teeth. No matter how much she talked, they remained so stubbornly apathetic. The fools. Couldn’t they grasp how demeaning Hogwarts’ gender segregation policy was? The only issue they complained about was how restrictive the Chastity Hex was. In theory, of course. They were good, proper Hogwarts witches, after all. Silly girls with their lowly concerns. Fitting, really. For Hermione, the Hex was just an extreme symptom of how deplorable the system in Hogwarts was. The gender-oriented school curriculums were the rub for her. But the others were not like her. Maybe that was the angle she should concentrate on, especially now that straitlaced McGonagall was weakened. Freedom over their own bodies. Access to the hex’ rumoured unlocking-phrase. Now that they were fifth years those restrictions really chafed.
All alone in her compartment, Hermione filled her time as the train drove through the Scottish highlands hatching plans to propel her cause forward. The French were supposed to be more loose in those areas. At least, that was what Muggle wisdom said. Would appealing to the French section of the student body finally give her the in she needed? Would it be the chink she’d been searching for all this time? There would be risks in venturing in that direction but surely the Cause was worth it. Yes. She needed to craft her plans and devise the right approaches.
^^^^^
It was a while after Hermione went back to the girls’ carriages in the front half of the train, that the three boys were interrupted once more. This time it was Draco Malfoy.
"What are you doing here, Grub-Eater?” Ron snarled.
Malfoy made a moue of distaste. “You better watch your tongue, Weasley. You won’t get away with it this year. My dad, is the new DADA teacher and,” he paused, smirking triumphantly, “he’ll be the Deputy Headmaster from now on.”
"What?!” Ron shouted, outraged.
"You can hear all about it during the Welcoming Feast if you don’t believe me,” Malfoy added, false conciliatory. “Come, Crabbe, Goyle. Lets leave these plebeians to their,” he sniffed, eyeing the half finished Cauldron Cakes they got from the food-cart earlier, “meagre meal.” He fished a pack of Chocolate Frogs from his pocket and munched one, ostentatiously, while it was still squirming around. “Here. Enjoy,” he handed Crabbe and Goyle a Chocolate Frog each. “We need to disseminate the great news some more.”
“Ugh, how much more disgusting can you get?” Ron exclaimed after the threesome left their compartment.
"I can’t understand how anyone can be proud of eating live frogs,” Harry agreed.
“He’s a Frenchie. A frog-muncher. It’s what they do,” Ron ground out. “You wouldn’t catch me eating one of those things even if I was starving all day and you know how much I like to eat.”
"So now we know what your dad was on about,”Neville said.
Ron shook his head angrily. “How can Professor Dumbledore let Mr. Malfoy teach in Hogwarts and be the Deputy Headmaster?! Hogwarts is a Saxon school!”
"Aye!”, “Aye,” Neville and Harry followed suit.
"Why are Vince and Greg with him, anyway? They’re from good English stock, aren’t they?” Harry asked his friends, to break the tension.
"Well,” Neville replied, “the Malfoys own their families’ lands. I thought you knew.”
"If I were in their shoes,” Ron butted in, “I’d leave and get my own place. I couldn’t bear to have a Malfoy lording it over me. Better to be poor and free than depending on a Frog’s favours.”
"They’d have to abandon their homes, maybe even all their things and keepsakes. That’d be hard.” Harry disagreed, his voice small.
"You really think so?” Neville asked him.
"No English Wizard should let a Frog deprive him of his home and family properties,” Ron overrode them, “it all belonged to us, once. We should throw the Norman Wizards back where they came from! Britain belongs to the English.”
How shocked, Harry mused, would his aunt and uncle be to learn that the Anglo-Norman hostilities were still very much alive in the Magical World? For them, it was all about their good old humdrum ilk versus the tacky, freaky magic-people. If they ever stopped to think what wizards and witches could argue about amongst themselves, they’d probably extrapolate that into a freaky versus ultra-freaky struggle, maybe Muggle-raised wizards versus Magic-born wizards. They’d be called good old English Mud-Bloods and Freaky Freaky Pure-Bloods. What nonsense! Only a Dursley could come up with that. Harry suppressed a snigger. "So what do we do about Mr. Malfoy?” he asked.
Ron smacked his fist into his palm. “We can’t have a Frog as the Hogwarts Deputy Headmaster. I don’t care what my dad says. This will not stand! This means war!”
Neville and Harry whooped their enthusiastic agreement. They all hated the Frogs, and the Malfoys in particular, with their hoity-toity ways and their girlie looks. This year, they swore, the Malfoys were going down.
Author’s Notes:
Thanks for the review, ChaosLady.
In case it isn’t clear an enchanted year passed between last chapter and this one so this is the beginning of Harry’s and his friends’ Fifth Year. The Triwizard Tournament never happened.
Why did Harry say his parents died in a car crash? Snape is responsible for this. His selfish, unspoken wish, wasn’t some revenge against Harry as you suggested ChaosLady, it was actually a great wish. He asked for the eradication of Voldemort and all possibility of his return. Now Voldemort and all his Horcruxes are destroyed, including the one in Harry’s forehead. What’s more, knowledge of his deeds and very existence was deleted as well. So Harry is just an ordinary orphan with no prophecy hanging over his head. (The curse over the DADA position is annulled as well.)
Snape is also responsible for the changes in Hermione Granger. His spoken wish really rankled Hermione.
And why the sudden, strange tensions over Norman/Frenchness? That is all Lucius Malfoy’s fault. He demanded the anti-Slytherin sentiments be unmade but, unfortunately, the horn simply replaced them with an equally bad sentiment and for some inexplicable reason Malfoy is still part of the hated group.
Harry Potter did not watch Dr. Who. The Dursleys would have none of that.
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