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Chapter 4: The Cunning Plan

She was too obsessive a student to neglect her assignments for two nights in a row, so it was Saturday morning when Hermione slipped away from her friends, carrying a peculiar and somewhat suspicious bundle. Potions, in the long and dreary Friday afternoon, had been a curious experience. Professor Snape had looked at her oddly several times, and had seemed on the point of keeping her after class, but had apparently changed his mind, and turned his back on her rather rudely, even for him.

Perhaps he wanted to ask me how to find the reading room again. Hermione felt comfortably smug. Her special corner of Hogwarts was still exclusively hers. No doubt Professor Dumbledore knew of it, but it was possible that he did not know that she did. There is, after all, a decided pleasure in knowing things known to no one else.

She turned her secrets over in her mind, handling them with the pride of possession. Professor Snape and Lily Evans had been friends—or something close enough to have no other obvious name. Hermione wondered what Harry would think about that. His dislike of the Potions Master, however just, had developed into a fierce and reflexive hatred that had already crippled the struggle against Voldemort.

Oldyfart, she thought, using Lily's contemptuous term, and smiled reluctantly. While it would be foolish to despise their enemy's powers, it was just as foolish to concede to him a name and a title that implied subservience. Perhaps Fudge's silly Lord Thingy was not inappropriate. Or maybe they should ignore their enemy's demands, and simply call him by his real, but loathed name. Why not just call him plain Tom Riddle? Why not just publish the truth of it—the orphaned, rejected halfblood, raised by Muggles, longing desperately for a place among the elite of pureblood wizarding society? It would humiliate and infuriate him, and expose the weak and perverse foundations of the Death Eaters and their idiotic bigotry.

That brought Lily's projected book to mind. Bigotry is always stupid, but expressing concern about a proven threat would not be bigotry. Lily's study was dangerous. However important the issue, it would certainly anger one faction or another, and pour fuel on an already blazing issue.

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Lily was delighted with the papers. Hermione had levitated them up into reading position; and caught up on her own classwork while Lily murmured and exclaimed as she leaned close, taking in the news of an unimagined future. Hermione had brought the copy of The Quibbler with Harry's interview as well. Learning more of his story had filled the simulacrum of his mother with indignation.

Hermione, concentrating on her transfiguration, half-heard the mutters of "Are they mad? It's just as I feared---the Ministry of Magic is worse than useless! Thick as planks! No, worse---malicious and willfully ignorant!" She learned on an elbow, covering an ear with her hand, until roused by Lily's raised voice.

"Hermione! Hermione! Over here! Hermione! GRANGER!"

Startled, Hermione looked up. Lily was standing in the foreground of the picture, green eyes blazing, a spot of bright colour on each pale cheek.

"Look here," Lily began, trembling with fury. "This won't do at all."

"It's been horrible," Hermione agreed. "A few of the worst Death Eaters, like Lucius Malfoy, were sent to Azkaban after the battle in the Department of Mysteries last year, but as you read, they didn't stay there long."

"Doesn't anyone know where they are?"

Hermione had her own suspicions, but naturally had been told nothing, 'for her own protection.' She told Lily this, and then confided her private fears.

"I think they're here in Britain, right under the Ministry's nose. Things have broken down—the Ministry doesn't seem able to monitor all the suspicious activity in the magical community. They watch for the easy things—like underage magic, or splinching alerts, or obvious public problems with Muggles—but real, sophisticated, complex Dark Arts are simply too difficult for them to detect or deal with. There's too much going on, and not enough competent people to call on."

"I think it's always been that way," nodded Lily, her anger changing to an air of determination. "The Ministry's always been full of people who like their thinking done for them. They're no good with the odd mad genius. Look at the whole Grindelwald debacle. The Magical Ministries of Europe were helpless against him, and it finally took a fellow eccentric original like Dumbledore to put paid to that lunatic."

Hermione decided she could tell Lily about the Order of the Phoenix. No one else was going to be here, talking to her, and Hermione had found it was helpful to discuss her thoughts with an intelligent friend. She briefly recounted the activities of the Order, Sirius' fall into the veil, the loyal people on their side; and then she decided to reveal Severus Snape's role as a double agent.

Lily listened in tense silence, pacing the light-filled space in front of the library table. She picked up her quill, twirled it between her fingers, and tapped it nervously. Finally, her eyes suspiciously bright, she choked out, "You mean he's a hero."

Putting aside her own very great dislike of Professor Snape for the moment, Hermione quietly agreed. "Yes. He's at risk of a very painful death constantly. He's our best source of intelligence about Voldemort."

"I knew it." Lily's pale face was enraptured. "I always knew that Severus would show them all, someday. There are all sorts of good things in him—he's clever and brave and loyal—and I thought only I could see it." Her face clouded over. "But you say the boy hates him."

"They've never gotten on. Professor Snape is horrible to the Gryffindors—horrible to nearly everyone but the Slytherins. Some of it is necessary, I suppose, for his cover story, but he was miserable to Harry from the first. We always assumed it was because of his dislike of Harry's father and his friends."

"Well," said Lily acidly, "it's no more than they deserved. Those bullies tortured him at every opportunity. That smug James and his friend Sirius, who thinks—thought--himself so irresistible—and their horrible little toady Pettigrew. And then Remus, who turns a blind eye to anything his friends do. I've always wondered if they have something on him, and that’s why he never challenges them." She stopped pacing, and turned an intent look on Hermione.

"I've got to get out of here. I've got to help."

Hermione stared, and began to sputter a weak objection. "I don't see how it could be possible—"

"Don't tell me it's impossible. I was put in here: there must be a way for me to get out."

Hermione stared some more, and then began to feel the irresistible urge to research, to accomplish the amazing, to show the wizarding world again what a Muggleborn could do. Her spirits rose at the magnitude of the deed, but then her inner Hermione, the one who obeyed the rules and respected authority, whispered to her words like "create terrible complications," "might be unethical," and the dreaded "could be construed as Dark Arts."

Lily must have seen the conflict in Hermione's face, for she snapped impatiently, "Don't start about misuse of magic. You need me. You need everyone who can help. Severus is my friend, and he needs me."

"How far are you prepared to go—"

"How far?" Lily made a powerful, sweeping gesture. "All the way!" She was radiant and fierce, pressing against the boundaries of the canvas. "If you care about people, I mean really care about them, you should never put limits on what you'll do for them. It doesn't matter what'll they'll do for you. It doesn't matter if they ever know what you've done. You've got to do everything in your power for them, and you can't stop and count the cost, because you're doing the right thing." She paused, and took a deep breath, still glowing.

Hermione was still too, at last seeing the Lily who had faced Voldemort and given her life for her baby.

Hermione squared her shoulders, and said thickly, "I'll do it."

"You'll help me? You mean it?"

"Yes." Hermione's mind was racing. They had the full resources of the Hogwarts library. They had the combined wits of two powerful, clever, and determined Muggleborn witches. They had a private place to work undisturbed. Hermione might have to attend class, but Lily had all the time in the world for research. "And we'll start right now."

---

Lily found several books about magical art in the Restricted Section. She also located a few in the non-restricted area, which Hermione declared she would bring here for the project.

"It seems plain to me, " said Hermione, in her most didactic manner, "that the key to this is knowing all about Master Praetorius: how he mixed his paints/potions, and what charms he used."

Lily tapped her quill thoughtfully. "I'm going to write down in detail everything I remember about the process. It was only a short time ago for me, so it's quite fresh in my mind. However, knowing what he did isn't enough: we have to discover how to turn the process inside out and release me from the picture."

"If it can be done," conditioned Hermione.

"It must be possible," Lily said firmly, "I can't spend eternity in here reading Pride and Prejudice, no matter how pleasant it is. The other me is gone. I've got to get out there with you and join the fight."

Hermione had an uneasy moment. "What about Harry?"

"The boy? What about him? Of course I'll help him, but I'm not his mother!"

"He'll think you are."

Lily smoothed a stray lock from her forehead, and fastened her hair more securely. "Well, we'll deal with that when the time comes. Maybe he won't recognise me. I hope he's not much like his father, because James Potter is really irritating—always dancing attendance, and smirking in that 'I know what you need' way." She dimpled placatingly at Hermione. "Who knows-- maybe we'll be friends. Anything can happen." More seriously, she went on. "What I do know is that the more people he has on his side, the better chance he'll have."

"There's a prophecy," Hermione blurted out. Lily looked at her curiously. "Harry told me about it. It's what the Death Eaters were looking for in the Department of Mysteries. They don't know what it said, but Harry does. It says that Harry and Voldemort must face one another and that only one will survive."

"All the more reason to throw in with the boy. He might have to face Oldyfart, but if enough of us are there to watch his back and fight the idiot Defecators, he can at least face the toerag alone, and not worry about the mob of flunkeys." She drew breath, looking righteous.

"Defecators?"

Lily had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Yes, well—why not?"

Exhausted from strong emotion, they both began shaking.

The walls echoed with shrieks of laughter from two overwrought witches.

----

Hermione found that it was actually quite easy to discover Master Praetorius' techniques. It was all neatly laid out in an unrestricted book that required only a witch who read Latin. She wondered again at the Hogwarts curriculum. Latin had been a required part of it as late as the early 70's, but had been dropped at the retirement of the last Latin teacher. The current Ancient Runes class gave only a journeyman's smattering of dozens of ancient languages and their symbols. Hermione was thankful that she had had a good grounding in Latin at her Muggle school, and then had continued studying it on her own in the summers. In many cases, such as the Patronus charm, knowing a little Latin prevented some stupid and even dangerous mistakes. Once again, she wondered if it was deliberate. An unreadable book might as well be in the Restricted Section, or might as well not exist. Translation charms were unreliable at best, and a disaster at worst.

Master Praetorius' techniques themselves were not so easy. They required great skill in Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration, as well as an exceptional ability to concentrate and visualise. The potions involved were named, but Lily found the actual recipes hidden away in a dusty, crumbling codex (also in Latin) that had not been read in decades. Even more excitingly, there was information concerning reversal of the process, which had been used by the Egyptians as a last resort if a mummy were destroyed.

"No wonder Ramses II ruled for over sixty years," Lily laughed. "His faithful priest Satipy kept bringing him back, using tomb paintings. In the end, there was no one capable of bringing back Satipy himself, and Ramses met his long-delayed end. Satipy must have had extraordinary powers, for I can't see most wizards being able to cast the charm alone. It needs a witch or wizard both inside and outside the image for it to work really well."

"How can you cast the charm?" asked Hermione. "You don't have a wand."

"Of course I have my wand!" Lily pulled the object in question from her sleeve, gave it a flick, and then dropped her voice into a fey, confidential imitation of Mr. Ollivander. "Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

----

After an intense weekend of research, it became clear that there would be some difficulties in completing the project. A Seba potion must be brewed. The potion, which when painted onto the picture itself would open a door (seba) between the world of the image and the outside, was tricky enough; but it would also require some ingredients not found in the standard Hogwarts potions kit.

"We'll need blood—not much, but some," stated Lily flatly. "We might be able to use yours, in a pinch, but we'll get better results from Harry's, since he's actually related to me." She cocked her head to one side. "I'd rather use Petunia's. Serve her right to be used for potions ingredients." She shrugged, "All right, I know. Harry's here, and Petunia isn't. Too bad though. Do you think you'll have any trouble getting some?"

"Not if I make up a good enough lie," Hermione said, feeling rather wormish. The whole thing was sounding more and more like Voldemort's Dark resurrection spell. "I can always tell him I'm working on a special project, and I need boy's blood. Ron will look so horrified that Harry will help me out."

"And it's not really a lie," comforted Lily. "You really are working on a very special project."

"All right then," Hermione sighed. "What else is on the list?"

"Lots of water—a great tubful. What odd things....a cup of Professor's Sprout best potting soil should do for the earth, I think, and then some myrrh, some scarab beetle eyes, the blood you already know about, fresh lotus petals, a piece of gold—jewelry or coin—either will do….. Oh, and this is curious. The potion needs to be mixed with the breath of the living. Apparently you have to blow on it continually while stirring widdershins, while the whole thing heats to just the temperature of human blood. You must immediately paint the door onto the picture, using a brush made from the hair of a cat. We say the Sinuhe charm together, and I walk through the door before the potion dries. If all goes well."

"If all goes well," Hermione repeated, thinking about all the ways it might not.

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Next Chapter: The Feather of Ma'at. What came of reading books.
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