Exitus Acta Probat

Ch 1 Bickering and Snickering

"Does anyone disagree with the final model of the memorial?" rang out the perpetually wearied voice of Professor Remus J. Lupin, newly instated headmaster of Hogwarts.

"For God's sake, Lupin," snapped the perpetually annoyed voice of Professor Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts, "the bloody memorial is the least of our concerns!"

As Snape and Lupin got into the sixth row of the meeting, Hermione yawned and dropped her head on her left hand, tuning out the ever-rising voices. When she caught Harry's gaze, who was sitting slumped back in a chair next to her, he rolled his eyes and jerked his head at Mr. and Mrs. Bickerson. Hermione nodded in assent, and Harry mimed shooting himself in the head with a gun. While Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her sudden need to loudly snort laughter, her eyes drifted around the room. They were currently in a meeting of the (sadly diminished,) Order of the Phoenix. Lupin had been elected Headmaster due to the fact that 1. Almost all of the professors were dead 2. The public now looked at him as a heroic figure after the Diagon Alley massacre 3.Snape's cover had been blown when he had fought against the Death Eaters in Diagon Alley, and could now no longer leave campus without imminent death awaiting him. Hogwarts had opened its doors as usual this September, when it had come to light that Dumbledore had cast a number of immensely complicated protecting spells on not only the school, but the Hogwarts Express, Platform 9 3/4, and the nearby Hogsmeade shortly before his death. It was a spell of his own design, a take-off on the Fidelius charm, known as the Munimentum charm. It involved placing not a secret, but the protection of the school itself in the care of a person. The charm could only be broken if the person holding it was killed. Best of all, the charm could be placed on many people, but only if all were killed would it fail. Dumbledore had placed the charm in a number of odd places, only known to himself, Snape, and Lupin. Even the people the charm was cast upon were not aware of the identities of the other recipients. Harry and Hermione had a few shrewd ideas of who they were, (such as Dobby, Aragog, and Moaning Myrtle,) but even they did not know. As the Death Eaters had wiped out the Ministry, St. Mungos, and half of Diagon Alley, Hogwarts had become a safe haven for students past and present. Wizarding families from all over were pouring into Hogsmeade, building houses and even large apartment complexes, (a Muggle idea recommended by Hermione. ) Even the muggle families of some muggle-borns had moved in for their own safety. Hermione's own father had moved into Hogsmeade, and just started a dental business. Oliver Wood, Quidditch star forced into temporary retirement, had taken over for Hooch. Viktor Krum, also an involuntarily retired Quidditch star, was teaching Defense against the Dark Arts, as Professor Lupin was busy full-time with order business as well as headmaster duties. A sharp pain in her shin brought Hermione back to the present. She gave a suspiciously innocent looking Harry a dirty look, and pretended to be listening to Lupin and Snape, (who had now progressed to wildly gesticulating hands, flamboyant overreactions, and loud sarcasm,) as she glanced around Dumbledore's old office at the other members of the Order sitting around a large rectangular table. Hermione, Harry, and the twins had been allowed to join, (as it was quite ridiculous to insist on sheltering them after the events of Diagon Alley.) Percy was also there; he had luckily made up with the other Weasleys a week or so before the Ministry had been attacked, and had proved a valuable asset, in his anal perfectionism. Mundungus Fletcher, Arabella Figg, Hagrid, Sturgis Podmore, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were there as well. Those five, along with Lupin and Snape, were the only remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix's second membership. There were ten others there, bringing the grand total up to a measly twenty-two, all new recruits. Wood and Krum were there, sitting next to Professor Trelawney in all her be-dangled, mystical glory, elderly Griselda Marchbanks, Neville's grandmother Longbottom, Ludo Bagman, (who had finally shaken off the goblins and re-paid his debts,) Amos Diggory and his wife, and shockingly enough, former Slytherins Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint.

Flint and Pucey were the newest members of the Order of the Phoenix, and were filling in for Snape's former duty as a double agent, Death Eater and spy for the order. Unlike Snape, both had come to the order before becoming Death Eaters, and were subsequently talked into the duplicitous, highly dangerous job. Neither had been too keen at first on accepting, as they had come to the order to escape the pressure from their families to receive the dark mark in the first place. Lupin and Snape had persuaded them eventually, however, and they were now invaluable sources of information. While Hermione, Harry, Percy, Fred, George, and Oliver had never been particularly fond of Marcus and Adrian, (they had both been former star Chasers for the Slytherin Quidditch team,) the animosity between them had gradually lessened as of late out of a grudging sense of respect for the Slytherins' bravery. Flint and Wood had even held a long conversation about Quidditch tactics the other day that had been civil, almost bordering on friendly, until a screaming row had developed over the importance of Beaters vs. The importance of Keepers.

Flint and Pucey were both in the lower ranks of Death Eaters, as they were newer members, so while they were not expected to do as heinous tasks as Voldemort's inner circle, they also received far less important information. Currently, Snape was scheming up ways that they could move up through the Dark Lord's followers. His list looked a little something like:

TOP TEN WAYS TO PLEASE THE DARK LORD

1. Foot massage

2. Be willing to endure torture

3. Make fun of Harry Potter a lot

4. Constantly talk about how he defeated Dumbledore

(Refer to Dumbledore as "crooked-nosed, Muggle-loving old fool" )

5. Never, ever, EVER refer to the Dark Lord as Tom Riddle

6. Pretend you don't know he's a half-blood

7. Spend ridiculous amounts of time on your hair (it's up to you whether you want to spend this time making your hair beautiful or disgusting)

8. Cower, whimper, cringe, and beg a lot

9. Whatever you do, don't let on to how repulsive you find him

10. Compliments, compliments, compliments!

Examples:

"My Lord, your eyes look particularly terrifying today!"

"Master, forgive me! I did not see you there! I mistook you for Brad Pitt!"

"No one can make me feel the Cruciatus like you can, My Lord."

It helped that a large portion of Death Eaters had been taken out last month in Diagon Alley, including such key figures as Rabastan Lestrange, Avery Nott, Lucius Malfoy, and Wormtail. The toxic Bellatrix Lestrange remained second-in-command to Voldemort, she had apparated away unscathed after the Diagon Alley fight. Hermione, Lupin, Harry, and the three remaining Weasleys were after her blood almost as much as they wanted Voldemort dead, as she had killed not only Sirius, but Tonks, Arthur, and Charlie as well.

At last estimate, forty-seven Death Eaters had been killed, a little over half of the Dark Lord's ranks. Adrian and Marcus, (who had not been a part of the attacking force in Diagon Alley, as they were considered too new to be trained properly in combat technique,) reported the grim news that Voldemort had already swayed thirty or so more to be branded with the Dark Mark, and his army was closing in on a hundred members.

The order had to keep their numbers low, to conduct their affairs with the utmost level of secrecy. Marcus and Adrian in particular had to be protected, as everyone else in the wizarding world thought them to be loyal Death Eaters. Only the members of the Order of the Phoenix knew that they weren't pureblood obsessed, homicidal maniacs, but heroic figures.

Currently, these heroic figures were immersed in a game of paper football with Ludo Bagman, Wood, and Krum (Hermione had taught them the addictive game her American Muggle cousin, John, had shown her.) As the "football" whizzed through the air, it narrowly missed smacking Harry in the head, not that he noticed, as he was asleep with his head down on the table, a faint trickle of drool escaping his semi-opened mouth. Wood raised his arms in a silent gesture of victory, and a scowling Flint flicked the football back his way. Normally, Snape would have acidly snapped insults at their "pathetic little prat-like antics," but he and Lupin were now thoroughly distracted by their ongoing row, which had now been reduced to the Professors drawing insulting caricatures of each other. Lupin was wildly waving about his rendering of Snape, a stick-figure that looked remarkably oily and bat-like, with a word bubble that read, "I'm a big, greasy git, who can't get over one freaking prank that Mooney didn't even have ANYTHING TO DO WITH, because I seem to have a perpetually lodged stick up my bum." Snape, for his part, had a badly drawn image of Lupin, complete with a mane of purely gray hair, exaggeratedly tattered robes, ludicrously overdone wrinkles, and claws instead of hands. Little Lupin's word bubble read, "Even though I am a nasty, evil werewolf, who is prematurely aging, everyone likes ME the best! I get to be Headmaster! All the middle-aged women love ME! Nyah, Nyah, Nyah-Nyah-Nyah, Severus!"

Hagrid was doodling pictures of a suspiciously familiar looking dragon while sporting a misty, dreamy look in his eyes. Harry had begun to loudly snore. Fred and George were trying to sneak their newest invention, Hair-raising Honey, (which made the unlucky victim look as if they had stuck their finger in a light socket,) into the pumpkin juice of everyone in the room. Percy was raptly taking fevered notes on the meeting, and was now copying Snape's and Lupin's caricatures in detail. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sturgis Podmore, Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, Mrs. Longbottom, and Griselda Marchbanks were huddled together having the actual meeting of the order. Professor Trelawney was dealing a set of tarot cards and casting long, mournful sighs and pitying, melancholy gazes in Hermione's direction. Hermione had been her new target for death predictions ever since Harry's Quibbler interview had been printed; she adored him. Plus, Trelawney seemed to be harboring a grudge for the whole walking-out-of-her-class incident in third year. Mrs. Figg was looking at an album full of cat pictures, and attempting to regale a still loudly snoring Harry with tales of their furry exploits. Mundungus Fletcher was throwing furtive looks around the table while "confiscating" a few items of value. Hermione was finishing up her Astronomy essay, (Astrology: Truth or Hoax? Discuss) thus completing all homework assignments due in the next two weeks. She had brought it to do in case of the event of Snape and Lupin getting into a huge scream-fest. They didn't always disrupt the meetings with their arguing, but since Snape had made a particularly nasty comment regarding werewolves and the fact that they should all be "put down" last week, he and Lupin had been extra catty with each other . Of course, the Remus Lupin of six months ago would have ignored all petty remarks uttered by Snape effortlessly, but since the death of Sirius he had taken a page out of Harry's book, (Anger: How to Thwart Others With Your Completely Justified Rage) and became much more confrontational. The first hint of Lupin's changing persona came when he informed Harry and Hermione that he had sent Narcissa Malfoy Kreacher in a box. Or at least, Kreacher's chopped up remains in a box.

Lupin, who seemed to finally have come to his senses, passed out scrolls of elaborate plans to the members of the order; (Harry awoke with a startled squawk when Hermione kicked him,) and after explaining them in minute detail dismissed the meeting.

Hermione and Harry descended the revolving staircase, while snickering loudly with Fred and George over their success in getting Snape to eat some Hair-raising Honey. The slimy git in question was obliviously stalking down the corridor some ten feet in front of them, his trademark sinister scowl and billowing robes in place. Luckily, as it was Saturday morning, there were no students about in the second-floor corridor, so Fred and George hurried way with a hasty set of goodbyes to their shop in Hogsmeade before Snape could notice his current predicament and attempt to hex them in retaliation.

"Harry," Hermione muttered out of he corner of her mouth, "we need to go to-"

"Library gents! Hermione and I hope you won't miss us too much!" Harry called cheerily to the order members departing in every direction to their various tasks. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and setting a brisk pace, steered her towards the library.

Madam Pince gave her usual vulture like glare of impending doom in their direction. She had been irritable even more so than usual with the two of them. Lupin had given them free reign in the restricted section, his reasoning to Madam Pince being, "Harry's destiny is to defeat Voldemort, after all." So she had taken to popping up randomly between shelves and under tables, apparently convinced she would find them making origami out of the pages of her books. After pouncing upon them and finding no reason for punishment, she would hover around them as long as possible, until in a fit of exasperation they would loudly stage a conversation saying the word "Voldemort" as much as possible. After Madam Pince would shriek and drop books a few times, she eventually would give up and stalk away, intent on finding misbehaving students to yell at.

They plopped down at their usual corner table in the back, both laden down with a towering stack of books. Hermione pulled out a large pile of parchment, and shuffled through until she found the mound labeled, "Life in the 1940's: Clothes, Sayings, Politics and Magical Innovations." Harry was immersed in a heap entitled "Time: The Final Frontier," and was hurriedly scratching notes with a furrowed brow of concentration. Hermione was flipping through an old Muggle fashion magazine from the forties, and sketching styles with her quill. They had been quietly working for a few hours, pausing only for a quick lunch of apples and turkey sandwiches that Hermione had stowed away in her satchel. They had to gulp the food down in turns, one keeping an eye out while one inhaled food, since if they were caught, Madam Pince would have their heads. Hermione was just rolling up her third roll of parchment with a yawn, when she froze, her eyes darting to Harry. He was immobile as well, his head cocked to the side, listening intently. That's when they heard it again, much clearer this time, shrill screams from the direction of the Great Hall.

Harry leapt up without so much as a backward glance. "Typical," muttered an exasperated Hermione. As Harry sprinted towards the library door, she cast the concealment charm (made so popular when Educational Degree Number twenty-six had been in effect,) on her's and Harry's notes, (they now appeared to be History of Magic notes, which nobody in their right mind would read,) crammed them into her bag, and ran after an already long gone Harry.

As she dashed through the corridor, down two staircases, and through a winding, crowded corridor, her heavy bag slamming painfully into her leg, Hermione wondered how on Earth Harry, who was so underfed and stringy looking, could possibly move so fast. She pushed past a crowd of Hufflepuffs- which Ernie Macmillan, Prefect badge agleam, was leading- stumbled through a group of hysterical first years, and skidded down the marble staircase leading into the school's entryway. There were tons of students and Professors packed into the entryway. She spotted Harry, who had somehow managed to make his way to the front of the surging, panicked crowd, all of whom were shouting incoherently. Everyone appeared to be trying to shove their way outside, until suddenly, an eerie hush descended, and the mob stilled. Hermione, who was crushed between two Slytherins and the hyperactive Creevey brothers, impatiently hopped up and down to try and see over the two enormous heads of the Slytherins in front of her.

"What's going on?"

Hop. Hop.

"What is everyone looking at?"

Hop. Hop. Hop.

One of the gigantic Slytherins in front of her (who Hermione now recognized as Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode,) roughly grabbed her arm to step her incessant hopping and yanked her down a step between them so she could see what all the fuss was about. Hermione opened her mouth to thank them, but her voice died soundlessly in her throat at the looks on Crabbe and Millicent's faces. Both were pale- though Crabbe was more a sickly green and Millicent an ash gray-and both looked on the verge of vomiting. Hermione whipped her head around to look at what the still silent crowd, (which Harry was now at the front of,) was staring at. A small, strangled moan escaped her throat as she recognized what she was seeing. This noise broke the spell everyone seemed to be under, and several people screamed, while many more shoved forward through the crowd, and the rest turned their heads and heaved up their last meals. Hermione was one of the shovers, and she again, like in Diagon Alley, seemed possessed by an unknown force as she vaguely noticed she was now at the front of the crowd with a dumbstruck Harry and an enraged Professor Snape. (He seemed to have discovered his Afro earlier and performed the counter-charm, and it was now back in all its greasy, lank, glory.)

There were bodies. Dead bodies. At least fifty, and all kids. All Hogwarts students, who each had been tied to a wooden stake that was planted in the ground, some had the stake stuck through their bodies as well. All of them had a glazed stare, face frozen in an expression of horror, pain, or both.

Hermione, who had felt Harry's hand close like a vice onto her arm a second before, staggered and almost keeled over as she looked at their faces. They were all Slytherins. Silver and green ties were neatly round their necks, the Slytherin crest on their robes. Some had prefect badges on. As Hermione looked into the nearest face, she felt her legs give out and she slid to the ground, a boneless Harry falling into a heap next to her. Pansy Parkinson, dead. Her prefect badge gleaming, a trickle of blood exiting her mouth. Goyle. Draco Malfoy. Practically the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Captain Montague, keeper Miles Bletchley, and chaser Warrington. The other Slytherin sixth year girls, Patrice Jugson, Adel Mulcibur, and Irene McDonough. At least six of the Slytherin's first years. As Hermione's gaze fell on little Walter Sims, a sweet first year that she had come upon crying in an empty corridor the first week of school because he didn't have any friends, she felt herself dry heave and turned to retch onto the stone stairs beneath her that lead up to the door of the castle. Harry was shaking next to her, and had his head buried in his hands as he sobbed. Hermione dimly realized her pile of vomit had a neon green glow to it, and she wearily cast her vision upwards and looked upon that mark she was growing to hate more every day, the Dark Mark.

As she sat observing the Professors attempting to pry down the corpses of her classmates in the grass below, a sobbing Wood struggling to tear a hysterical Crabbe away from Malfoy and Goyle, a ghostly white Madam Pomfrey rushing about desperately checking to see if anyone was still alive, Hermione again thought of her plan. The plan she had mentioned only to Harry, the one they had been researching all this afternoon, but never really seriously considered. Now, she was serious. She would do it. She would not sit back and watch her family, friends, classmates, and even her old rivals die. She would not let Harry be placed with the burden of the entire wizarding world' s fate on his shoulders. She would not watch him fight Voldemort to the death. She was going to go back in time and stop Tom Riddle any way she could.