The Prefect's Portrait

"I suppose it's still the same now," Lily began. "I can't believe things have changed much. Everything changes so slowly in the wizarding world. It's still the purebloods, the halfbloods, and, if you'll forgive the expression, the mudbloods."

Hermione shrugged. "The expression has been thrown in my face a few times. Voldemort's supporters all believe in pure blood. They think Muggleborns are ruining the wizarding world."

"Well, are we?"

Hermione started to object, and then stopped, confused.

Lily raised her brows. "You see. Everyone's full of opinions on the subject. People say they know one thing or another, but it all comes down to a childish "Is so!" and "Is not!"

"But it's ridiculous! Not to boast, but my O.W.L.s---"

"And that's my point! One witch doesn't prove anything. Someone who doesn't like Muggleborns would use someone else who didn't do well as an example, and consider you an aberration. You may have a true opinion, but you haven't offered any hard evidence." Lily tapped her quill against the parchment on the library table. Hermione decided it was a mannerism that bespoke a thoughtful mood. Lily, after considering how to continue, went on. "My father's a teacher, and you know there's always some new study or other about education in the Muggle world. He asked me if I knew of any proper research done on Muggleborns in the magical world, and when I looked into it, I found there wasn't--there were only a lot of silly opinionated books with nothing behind them." Lily paused a moment, and asked, "Do you know if my parents are still alive?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think so," Hermione confessed. "Harry's never said anything about any grandparents."

Lily looked rather sick. She sighed, and tapped her quill again.

"Anyway, what matters is establishing the impact of Muggleborns on the magical world. It wasn't that hard to design such a study. There's plenty of data: the Hogwart's registry gives parents' names, and it's possible to track down if they're purebloods or halfbloods or whatever. We have O.W.L. and N.E.W.T scores going back centuries. Further examination of the birth registry indicates children of Hogwarts graduates and whether they were invited to study at Hogwarts or not. Once I buckled down to it, it wasn't that hard to start compiling figures on whether Muggleborns had lower scores or were giving birth to more Squibs."

"Were you doing this in Professor Binns class?"

"Oh, no! It was an independent project for Muggle Studies. I know it sounds silly, a Muggleborn taking Muggle Studies, but my schedule was such that it was that or Divination, and I couldn't stick that."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. Lily shrugged. "It was just a preliminary report anyway, using the last ten years of O.W.L and N.E.W.T scores, but I was going to continue work on it, and put something together for publication after I graduated and had some academic credibility." She sniffed. "Apparently, I was distracted." A new thought occurred to her. "Do you suppose the boy knows what happened to my notes?"

"Harry? Not very likely--and from what I heard, the whole house was destroyed when you--I mean--when his parents were killed."

"All that work..."

Hermione was still waiting. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What did you find out? Are Muggleborns the bane of the wizarding world or not?"

"Oh, that! Well, it was impossible to say for certain, but genetically, it seems probably not. There was no obvious difference between Muggleborns and purebloods in Squib-producing, but the test scores for Muggleborns tended to be slightly higher."

Hermione flushed with self-vindication.

"Of course," said Lily, "It was only a very slight total variation, and it might not mean that Muggleborns are uniformly better students or more magically powerful. There's more to it. Further study seemed to indicate that the Muggleborns who actually come to Hogwarts have manifested magic very strongly prior to entry--and most Muggleborns never study magic at all."

"Why?"

"Well, think! A lot of Muggleborns have parents like my sister, who hates magic. Or they think it's all a silly confidence trick. Or they're very religious, and they think it's evil. From what I gather that's always happening in the States. Why else are there those outbreaks of hysteria, where parents say their children have been abused by Satanists? Every year, scores of young witches and wizards around the world are killed by their families, sometimes during exorcisms. That's why in the States and in some places in South America and Africa the wizarding authorities have a policy of removing talented children from abusive homes, and those children simply vanish from the Muggle world. They didn't do that here at Hogwarts in my day, though. Has it changed?"

"I don't think so. But when Harry first got his letter, the Dursleys destroyed it, and the Headmaster had to send hundreds more letters, and then finally Hagrid to deliver one."

"Well, the Headmaster really must think he's special, because I happen to know that the usual policy is to send one letter and then drop the subject. Occasionally they send out Obliviators if the family starts kicking up a fuss. In short, my girl," Lily looked at her significantly, "Muggleborns don't even get to Hogwarts unless they come from supportive, liberal-minded families--the sort of family that would create a predisposition for the child to do well, in any school."

Hermione thought a moment, and then said, "Purebloods also complain about the corruption of wizarding customs, and about security--"

"With that last they may have a point. I haven't looked into that yet. It would be interesting to track down serious security breaches and see if any of them had any real impact. I'd need Ministry approval, though, for that--"

"And that's not likely," said Hermione, tartly. "The Minister of Magic is an idiot. Last year he sent a representative to take over Hogwarts and she was the vilest, wickedest creature--" Hermione felt a flash of rage, remembering the odious Umbridge. "I'll tell you all about her someday. She was the worst person I have ever known--even worse than the Death Eaters, because she seemed normal at first---anyway--let's not get into that now. I hate thinking about it."

"Well, let's talk about someone more pleasant--like Severus Snape," Lily suggested.

Hermione made a face. Lily laughed.

"Oh, don't go all Gryffindor on me. Severus is all right. We've been partners in Potions since the beginning of the year. A new policy of inter-house co-operation. It hasn't worked for everybody, but in N.E.W.T Potions everyone's serious enough about the class to make an effort. None of Potter's gang is in the class, thank goodness. Severus is sort of odd-man-out, even in his own House, so I think he likes having someone to chat up on his favourite subjects." Lily smiled mischievously. "I never thought he'd grow up so--interesting, though. The other night he was quite impressive in the black robes, sweeping about ever so grandly. He wasn't so tall when we were in Potions together. He really does the tortured Heathcliff thing rather well, I think. And his voice!"

Hermione curled up on the window seat, hugging one of the cushions. "Heathcliff! I see what you mean. But it's Heathcliff from the later part of Wuthering Heights, after he's lost Cathy, when he's all twisted and cruel and horrible."

"And did he?"

"Did he what?"

"Lose Cathy! You know more about grown-up Severus than I."

"I don't know if there ever was a Cathy."

"That could be just as bad, I suppose."

Hermione had been thinking about the picture and the library, and a new idea struck her. "This is a bit of a non-sequitur, I'm afraid, but can you read any book in the library?"

A little at a loss at the change of subject, Lily-in-the-picture stared at her, and then said, "Well yes, I suppose so. I hadn't thought about it. You must understand that time isn't the same for me. It really seems like I've been here only an afternoon, but from watching you I can see it's different outside. I'm still reading the book I had when I was being painted by Master Praetorius." She held up a smaller book hidden inside a large magical tome. Hermione peered closer, and saw that it was Pride and Prejudice. She beamed, delighted to meet so unexpectedly another fan of Jane Austen in the environs of Hogwarts.

"I love Jane Austen too. Nobody else here has ever heard of her."

"Have you ever read what passes for a wizarding novel? The most awful trash. They tend either to be feeble, insipid romances, or gruesome tales of curses and lurking horrors--and not at all well written. The purebloods go on and on about Turlough Niggle, but his stories are out-and-out thefts from Poe and Lovecraft."

Hermione had given this some thought. "I suppose the wizarding world is so small that there's not a large pool of talent. When a person has magical talent, it would be too much to expect them to have artistic talent as well. Their excuse for music is pretty grisly, too. What about this Master Praetorius?"

"Well, he's the exception that proves the rule. I'm surprised you haven't heard of him. He's one of the few magical artists working now. There was quite a drop-off after the invention of the magical camera in 1871." Hermione secretly vowed to do some research. Lily went on. "The Headmaster brought him in to paint some places in the school: the library, the Great Hall, the quidditch pitch, and a few others." She leaned toward Hermione confidentially. "I think there was something special about the pictures--something linking them to the magic of Hogwarts. I was chosen pretty much at random to be in the library picture--or at least, only because Master Praetorius liked my hair, and needed people to be in the pictures for scale purposes."

"Did it take long?"

"The sitting? No, only a few hours. But," she said, "it wasn't like sitting for a Muggle picture. His paints were more like potions. He used samples from the library--a bit of dust, of bookbindings, of ink and parchment. And then he wanted samples from me, and that was not so pleasant--hair and nail clippings, and some skin from my cuticles were no problem-- but then he also wanted some blood, and then," she said, with a look of distaste, "he insisted on removing a little of one of my back teeth."

"Eew," managed Hermione, thinking of her dentist parents. She was also uncomfortably reminded of the spell Voldemort had used at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament to reincarnate himself.

"Anyway," said Lily, "that tied me to the picture, because Master Praetorius said it was useless to have a person in a painting for scale, if that person were to go wandering off. But I think," she said, weighing every word, "that it also made me very much---me."

Hermione was fascinated, determined to find out what kind of potions and incantations were involved. A long conversation ensued, continuing late into the night. Lily wanted to know everything about Hogwarts, the wizarding world, and the Muggle news. She wanted to know the date, and who was Prime Minister, and if the Prince of Wales had ever married. They discovered mutual interests in ancient Egypt, in museums, and in the books of J.R.R. Tolkien. Hermione had never talked so much at a stretch, and felt herself growing hoarse.

With a shock, she finally became aware of the time. Reluctantly, she said, "I must get back to Gryffindor Tower."

"You'll come back, won't you?"

Hermione gathered up her belongings. "Yes, of course. We have so much more to talk about." They both laughed.

"Please don't forget." Lily-in-the-picture seemed very anxious. "Come back as soon as ever you can. And bring some recent Daily Prophets and a Muggle newspaper, too. If you hold them close enough I can read them. Time has got so far away from me!"

------

Hermione cracked open the painting and peered out cautiously. Slipping away, she was struck by how eerily silent the castle could be at night. Echoing footsteps resounded faintly, and she was startled by odd shadows, but her luck held good; and within ten minutes she giving the password of "Longbottom Leaf." (Neville had not understood the reference, but had been pleased when Hermione had proposed it.)

It was late, and the common room was empty but for Harry, slumped in a chair and gazing off into empty space. Ron had told her that Harry's sleep was constantly disturbed by nightmares and visions. It was hardly surprising that he submitted himself to as little slumber as he dared. Earlier in the year, Hermione had urged Harry to ask for sleep potions, and had been rewarded with a furious tirade for her pains. He had worked through the worst of his grief over the summer, but he still suffered dark moods.

She wondered if she should tell him about the painting or even show it to him. Lily-in-the-picture was not Lily-who-was-Harry's-mother. The girl in the picture was a sixteen-year-old student, engrossed in her studies, friendly with Severus Snape; and she despised the boy she would someday marry. No, thought Hermione, struggling with the paradox. Lily-in-the-picture will never marry James. She hasn't even shown any interest in Harry. After all, he's not her son.

Hermione murmured a good night to Harry, who nodded absently, still intent on the nothingness before him. She crept into the dormitory, trying to be considerate as she shivered out of her robes and into her pyjamas. Alone in her bed, listening to the soft breathing of the other girls in the room, she herself looked into the darkness, searching for answers.

-----

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.

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.

----

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 got 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.

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 exciting, 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--jewellery 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.

-----