Rating:
R
House:
The Dark Arts
Ships:
Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter Hermione Granger/Padma Patil Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley
Characters:
Harry Potter Hermione Granger Lavender Brown Padma Patil
Genres:
Drama Humor
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:
Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 06/22/2007
Updated: 06/22/2007
Words: 14,934
Chapters: 1
Hits: 941

I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain

pstibbons

Story Summary:
Harry and Ron left Hermione behind on the Horcrux Hunt. She helped them anyway. They threw her into Azkaban. She escaped. Ten years later, they believe she was innocent. They'd like forgiveness. She'd like to destroy their society. "The pureblood Mudbrains think that Mudbloods should be kept out of Magical Society. They make a good point. Why on earth would we want to be part of it? Magical Society in Britain is like a dirty little pond contaminated with the excrement of the inbred three-eyed fish living in it.. Why would healthy fish like us want to swim and choke in it?" -- page 35, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H. J. Granger

I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain

Chapter Summary:
"British Pureblood Mudbrains think that Mudbloods should be kept out of their Magical Society. They make a good point. Why on earth would we want to be part of it? Magical Britain is like a dirty little pond contaminated with the excrement of the inbred three-eyed fish living in it. Why would healthy fish like us want to swim and choke in it when there's the ocean of the Muggle world available to us? Not to mention more civilized Magical societies. - page 35, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger...
Posted:
06/22/2007
Hits:
941
Author's Note:
This fic is dedicated to all those fanfic writers out there who think Hermione could ever betray Harry.


"Mudbloods! Enter the Magical World with your heads held high, your pose erect, your gaze curious, your heart proud. Cower not, for you are not entering a society where you are inferior. It is they - the Pureblood Mudbrains - who are at a disadvantage. For they know of only one society whereas you can be part of two - their tiny one and the much larger, much more interesting, Muggle one.

- page 1, "I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain" by Hermione Jane Granger, published by Unicorn Press, Vancouver.


Padma Williams walked into her superior's office at the Ministry. It was an ordinary office, with wood panelling and portraits and badly drawn stick figures with labels like 'dadi' and 'momi' and 'my kaffel' and 'my snich'. The door had a little plaque that said, if you rubbed it vigorously enough to see the lettering, 'Department of Tracking'.

It was a new department, formed in the aftermath of the wars, to deal with all the issues that a displaced and diasporic population entails. Like many others in it, Padma joined for personal reasons - she had lost track of people dear to her and only found most of them after a long and lucky search. They hadn't all been alive when she found them either - her husband certainly hadn't. She wanted to save others the trouble.

Her boss was an old witch with a weary smile. Caroline Winters, they called her. Perhaps she was born Caroline Summers, Padma mused idly. And she's on her second marriage now, and her first husband was called John Fall. Padma smiled slightly at her little joke before beating down her inner prankster and wordsmith.

She suddenly realized that there was a third person in the room; a cloaked figure wearing unmentionables.

Unmentionables were what Ministry employees called the robes that Unspeakables wore - at least when said wearers were not within hearing range.

Two and two were added. She realized that if she was about to be given an assignment, it would not be an ordinary one.

"Morning, Padma," said Caroline stonily. "Have a seat."

The younger witch did so, giving the Unspeakable a wary look.

"As you can see, we have non-standard company today. This is Agent Rush from the Department of Mysteries. He has an assignment for us. To do with Hermione Granger."

If Padma had been standing, she would have plopped on her seat. As it was, she nearly fell off it.

"Her domicile is a matter of public knowledge," began Rush. Padma started; Rush had a female voice! Not that that meant anything, she reminded herself. Unspeakables routinely used voice disguise charms in public. And even if everyone knew that voice charms couldn't change gender, that didn't mean that they knew that.

"What we want from you is to bring her back."

Padma recovered her wits, at least partially. "What makes you think she'd want to return?" she asked. "She helped bring down You Know Who, and then we promptly sent her to Azkaban. Have you even lifted the charges on her since she escaped?"

"I have something to show you, Williams." Rush held out a rather worn-out doll. One of its arms was missing. Padma thought it might be a representation of Venus de Milo, but then remembered that the doll had one arm left. Well. At least it was a Barbie and not a Raggedy Ann.

"It doesn't look very special," she said, peering closely at the doll.

"It's a f--king Portkey to the Department of Mysteries, Williams," said Rush.

She hadn't known eye rolling could be conveyed aurally. She did now. She glanced at her boss, who nodded at her to follow the Unspeakable.


The Mudbrains believe that Purebloods are superior to Mudbloods, that Blood Purity is important, that there is a fundamental difference between the magic of Purebloods and that of Mudbloods. Actually, the last bit is true. Our magic is wilder, stronger, harder to control. Their magic is domesticated, weaker, more controlled. We have wolves within us; they have dogs - all kinds of dogs, from Great Danes to poodles. Both types of magic have their uses - this is not a question of superiority, but of difference. But as long as their society is controlled by idiot Mudbrains who believe they are superior, the democratic Muggle societies that we grew up in are superior to their pathetic, provincial, inbred society.

- page 13, "I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain"


"They want me to come back?" asked Hermione in disbelief. She laughed. "Oh, good one, Pads! I was almost fooled there for a ... oh. You're not laughing. Smile? Chuckle? Snigger? Chortle? Please?"

Trust Hermione, Padma thought, to recover from her shock with a joke. A poor and formulaic joke, but an attempt at humour nonetheless. She had, like most precocious teens, mellowed in her twenties as she hung around more people of similar wavelength.

"Have they declared me innocent then?" asked Hermione. "New evidence and all that?" She got up and headed to the kitchen. "Come on, I've got eighteen bars of chocolate in here somewhere that are sending me telepathic messages urging me to finish them."

"Have I ever told you, Mione, that the more nervous you are, the longer your sentences get?"

"Who's nervous?" asked Hermione nervously as she poked through various cupboards. "Nutty, dark, milk, f--k, where are my bikkie chocs?"

Padma didn't bother answering the question as she followed Hermione through the kitchen. "The Unspeakables came to me."

Hermione halted for a moment. "Them?" she asked with a curious tone. "Oh. What did they tell you?"

"That they still employ you."

"Oh. So you know about that."

"And they know how you escaped from Azkaban."

"WHAT? How the hell did those wankers figure that out?" yelled Hermione, her search for chocolate covered biscuits temporarily forgotten.

"Would you believe, a Muggle-born Ravenclaw fourth year doing a research project? Oh, and they explained it to me. Nice job, you being an Animagus."

Hermione sat down. She idly grabbed a milk chocolate bar and stuffed it in her mouth. Padma didn't comment on the fact that Hermione wasn't a fan of milk chocolate.

"I'm surprised it took so long, actually," said the brunette. "It is a matter of public record."

"For the public in Israel, no doubt."

Hermione shrugged. She had discovered a loophole in Animagi registration when she was fourteen: all Animagi in Britain had to register, unless exempted by International treaties. International Magical law stated that all Animagi had to register in just one country that they were a citizen of. Hermione's Muggle mother was Israeli, so Hermione could claim Israeli citizenship - which she did when she was fifteen. Since Hermione was a Muggle-born witch, she could claim Israeli Magical citizenship as well since she had Israeli Muggle citizenship. Which she did when she was sixteen. And when Hermione became an Animagus shortly after her seventeenth birthday, she registered with the Israeli Ministry, and did not have to register with the British one.

But anyone willing to track her mother's ancestry, and check documents with the Israeli Ministry, could have worked it out.

Funny how another fourteen year old had done so before any of the adults.

She never told anyone that she was Israeli. She wasn't worried about the anti-Semitism. No, she wanted the secrecy. She had never trusted the British Ministry, and had always wanted a Plan Z if it ever turned on her. That meant telling no-one.

Actually, she had told Harry and Ron once. But they had been talking about Quidditch at the time and ignored it.

Thank goodness.

"Your form was surprising, though," commented Padma. "Thought you'd be an otter. Like your Patronus."

"That would have been more useful when it came to swimming across the sea around Azkaban, I suppose," mused Hermione, "but my form was pretty good at sneaking into boats." She paused for a moment. "Wait a minute. Why did you come to tell me this? Why couldn't they tell me directly?"

"I wondered the same thing," replied Mrs Williams (nee Patil). "Everyone knows where you live, seeing as you're our version of Solzhenitsyn and the best known political refugee in Canada."

"Magical Canada," corrected Hermione idly. "Guess they want me to come back willingly, and figured you were the best person to do that. Good luck." She smirked and waved a hand airily. "Give me your best shot." She stuffed the rest of her bar of chocolate in her mouth.

Padma shrugged and took out a piece of parchment from her denim robes. "Harry has been under a love spell for the past ten years."

Hermione's reaction was not the outraged "What!" that Padma expected. Instead she asked, "Oh, they finally figured that out, did they? Who was doing it? The Head of the Weasley Mafia or one of her minions?"

"Eh?"

"Molly, Ron, or Ginny?"

"It's more complicated than that," sighed Padma.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She'd figured, in retrospect, that Harry had been dosed with Love Potions ever since the summer before his sixth year. She wasn't sure if she herself had been. She hoped she had, since that would provide an excuse for her erratic behaviour that year. Unfortunately, she was perfectly capable of having a stupid teen hormonal crush on Ron by herself. And on Harry, of course, but he'd never shown any signs of seeing her that way even at the Yule Ball, so she'd long given up on that and moved on.

"It wasn't a Love Potion," said Padma.

"Bollocks!" retorted Hermione.

"It's a love charm."

"They don't exist."

"They do. His mother was part of the team that invented them."

"Is that what they told you?" asked Hermione after a suitable pause. "And you believed them? Sure, everyone knows Lily was an Unspeakable, but this is ridiculous."

"It doesn't really matter whether she was involved or not," Padma pointed out, "other than irony anyway. Point is, they exist. And they were cast on Harry to make sure he fell in love with a Pureblood witch so that he would remain in Magical Britain as a ... symbol."

Hermione's eyes widened. She looked down at her legs. They weren't showing any signs, such as a black-haired witch tugging on them, of being pulled.

"Who?" Hermione finally asked.

Padma shrugged. "Various Ministry people. Probably the Mysteries folks too. They neither confirmed or denied their involvement."

"Why tell me?"

"They don't want you thinking the Weasleys did it. In my contact's words, 'Ginny Potter is just as much a victim as Mr Potter'."

"That's a laugh. Ginny buys enough fur each month to feed Somalia for ten years. If she's a victim, then Azkaban is a bloody ski resort."

"I don't suppose this would be the right time to say that's in the works then?"

"What's in the works?"

"Turning Azkaban into Aspen."

"Give it up, Padma. Your attempts to crack a joke are more feeble than Umbridge's attempts to look huggable."

"Ow."

"Oh, shut it. Look, this makes no sense. So the Ministry tossers keep Harry from getting fed up with them and running away. What did they do, charm his wedding ring? Oh, I guessed right? Fine. Yay me. When did they start dosing him, and how?"

"Meals at the Weasley house and at Hogwarts. Medication."

"I thought you said the Weasleys weren't part of this!"

"I said Ginny wasn't. Never said anything about her father."

"Arthur?" asked Hermione, shocked.

"Told he's a good actor," responded Padma.

"Fine," huffed Hermione. "Fine. Fine, fine, fine, just bloody fine. What do they want from me? Why do they want me to return? If it's out of the goodness of their stone hearts, then I'm a f--king virgin. Last time I checked, that was technically impossible."

"Piffle. There are spells to restore broken hymens, as Parvati could well tell you."

"She did. To Lav Lav anyway. I just overheard. Say, how are those two whores?"

"You calling my sister a whore, Granger?"

"You do it often enough, Williams."

"True. Well, she's happily having threesomes with the Potters while playing the role of sorrowful widow to perfection. Her dream of slipping rat poison into Terry's morning cereal finally came true. Quite suave really, Imperiusing her cat to knock it over. And any judge will believe that regular housewives routinely keep rat poison at the breakfast table if you screw them enough."

"Miaow," said Hermione, clawing the air. "I'll give that story a six point five out of ten. You've made up better ones, Pads darling."

Padma shrugged. It was no secret that she and Parvati were on the end of the Twins spectrum opposite to Fred and George. "Meanwhile, Lav Lav is still with Won Won, being the perfect house mama and cook. She's a brill cook, I must admit. And number five is in the oven."

Hermione shuddered. It was a good thing her childhood crush (which, alas, seemed to be based on her own traitorous hormones rather than any Love Potions) on The Stupid Weasley Son had only lasted a few months - she had escaped a horrible fate. Children were great - which reminded her, Talitha would be home in an hour - but the idea of not having a career outside the home was terrifying. Unless you were the Lavender or Molly types, of course. Perhaps it was her Muggle morality, or having a mother who worked. Oh well. It took all types.

"I suppose Ron still hopes to name the next sprog Chudley. Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, you were about to tell me why they want me to come back."

"Guess how many of the ninety-six Muggle-borns in the last ten years have stayed in Magical Britain for more than two years after graduating from Hogwarts - if they even went there in the first place."

"Er - forty-two?"

"Wrong!" smirked Padma, punching the air victoriously. "Six! Na na na na na, I got you wrong on something! Na na na..." Padma began dancing crazily around the living room, narrowly missing knocking down an atrocious piece of modern art (also called The Remnants of Yesterday's Sandwich On The Mantelpiece).

Hermione's eyes widened. She'd lost count of how many times that had happened this morning. "That's rather low, isn't it? Why?"

"They're blaming you for it."


I have nothing against Purebloods. It's the Mudbrains I have trouble with. You don't even need to be a Pureblood to be a Mudbrain. Voldemort was a half-blood but definitely a Mudbrain. The Mudbloods who accept that they are somehow lesser because they don't come from a long line of Magical folks are also Mudbrains.

The Muggle world has plenty of Mudbrains as well. There is discrimination against minorities everywhere, against blacks, against deaf folks, against gays, against Jews, against Palestinians, against ... whoever you are, there is someone out there who thinks you're below them, and probably people out there who you think are below you. I'm no exception - I think Mudbrains, televangelists, and cat skinners are below me.

The obligatory 'Why Can't We All Get Along?' paragraph goes here.

-- page 27, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger.


"Huh?"

"Your book. It's banned in Britain, which means it's very popular. All the Muggle-borns and most Halfies have read it. And they give it to their parents to read. And then they decide they don't want to be a part of that society that kicks successful Muggle-borns like you in the arse - and they leave. The Ministry is getting very worried about new blood. Some factions are even talking about instituting a Marriage Law that forces Muggle-borns to marry Purebloods, but they're fortunately yelled out by the more sensible factions that realize that will merely encourage emigration."

"Hunh. I'm flattered, really. I was real angry when I wrote that. Channelled all my vengeance into it. Read it the other day. I cringed."

"But you don't disagree with the points it made?"

"Not fundamentally, no. But the delivery... whatever. So the Mudbrains don't think I'm - what was it - guilty of treason, collaboration with Voldemort, manslaughter, attempted manslaughter, and halitosis?"

"Look, Mione, no-one thinks you're guilty. Even the Ministry knows by now that you're innocent. They just haven't admitted it publicly, which makes them a laughing stock at the International Confederation of Magic meetings."

"Laughing stock?"

"Okay, maybe not a laughing stock. The closest Muggle equivalent is Apartheid South Africa. Morally condemned while still done business with."

"Humph. Serves them right, the silly buggers. Now, why would I want to return?"

"A million galleons? An Order of Merlin? Editorship of the Daily Puppet? Scrimgeour's head on a stick with a chocolate biscuit in his mouth?"

"You've been reading Lord of the Flies again, haven't you?"

"So I added the last one. How about Headmistress of Hogwarts?"

"All very tempting, Pads, but I just don't trust them. In fact, I'm wondering if Talitha and I should go into hiding again - do you think they'll try to harm her if I refuse? And will they harm you?"

Padma considered this. "I've been thinking about that as well. I don't know."

"So it's possible?"

"Sure it is. But if they had assassination in mind, wouldn't they have done it by now?"

"On Canadian soil? No, it's more than that. You know as well as I do that there are lots of factions duking it out at the Ministry. Whoever's on top right now wants me back. Others don't. There's no telling who'll be in control a year from now, and even if the status quo remains, factions who want to hurt us won't let a little thing like Not Being In Power get in the way. So you can tell our bosses Thanks But No Thanks. And that they can take me off their employee list. Now, let's talk about important things - I've got to go pick up Mini-Me from school - why don't you come with me and you can tell me how your two Mini-Yous are doing?"


The Mudbrains think that Mudbloods should be kept out of Magical Society. They make a good point. Why on earth would we want to be part of it? Magical Society - in Britain and a few other countries I could name (see Appendix E) - is like a dirty little pond contaminated with the excrement of the inbred three-eyed fish living in it. Why would healthy fish like us want to swim and choke in it when there's the ocean of the Muggle world available to us? Not to mention more civilized Magical societies.

--- page 35, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


Two Months Later:

Nymphadora Tonks had risen in the ranks since the war. She'd even grown less clumsy, though everyone still cast unbreakable charms on their possessions whenever she was in the vicinity.

Currently she was reviewing the case of Hermione Granger. It seemed a fairly clear cut case at the time. She had even been there at Hermione's trial.

"Miss Granger!" said Anthony Erinforth, the Ministry justice inquisitor for the day. "Did you cast a tracking charm on Harry Potter's invisibility cloak so that you always knew of his location while he was hunting for Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

"Yes," she said, "but I never..."

"You were jealous that he had taken Mr Weasley with him and not you, when it was in fact for your safety that you were left behind. Instead of being grateful, you let their location be known to the forces of You Know Who."

Hermione was too shocked to speak.

"How do you explain the fact that there were at least three occasions when Mr Potter and Mr Weasley were ambushed by Death Eaters, the last of which almost cost Mr Weasley his life? Someone must have informed them of the pair's location, and I put it to you that that someone was you."

"No! I..."

"Were you in contact with the convicted murderer and Death Eater Severus Snape?"

"Yes, but... "

"But what, Miss Granger? Surely you do not mean to say that Severus Snape was innocent? Not when Mr Potter was a witness to his murder of Albus Dumbledore? Let's face it - you knew of their location, you were in contact with a Death Eater, and the Death Eaters learnt of their location. It seems pretty clear to me what happened, doesn't it?"

Tonks remembered the look on Harry's face that day - it was a mixture of anger, sadness, and disbelief.

The Daily Prophet had already embarked on a campaign of rampant revisionism... Tom Riddle was a half-blood who had taken advantage of some Pureblood families' justifiable desire to protect their culture and then enslaved them with his Dark Mark... Hermione Granger was a Mudblood who had fooled the Boy Who Lived and a proud, if humble, Pureblood family ... who had thought herself too good for one of their sons whom she then tried to kill... somewhere, in all of that, they forgot that Harry Potter was a Halfie and that Lily Evans-Potter was a Muddy...

Tonks also remembered the shock that had happened when Hermione had disappeared from her cell in Azkaban a mere hour after she had been put in.

She remembered Hermione's parents, for whom Hermione had been Secret Keeper during the War. They were a nice couple, Tonks thought. Harmless. And killed by some vigilantee group of wizards after Hermione's trial. Even Harry had been pissed by that, though the words he'd said in public were formulaic and devoid of any caring. He'd never really bothered to meet them, after all, even when Hermione had been his friend.

A week after her disappearance, the Canadian Ministry of Magic issued a statement stating that they had granted political asylum to Hermione Granger. She had provided them more than enough information to clear herself of all charges, and they were willing to provide this evidence to any countries that wished to see it.

Hermione provided Pensieve memories of Snape swearing to her on his Magic that he had only murdered Dumbledore at the Headmaster's order. That was corroborated later by memories left behind by Dumbledore that Harry had ignored in his desire to be on the Horcrux Hunt as soon as possible. Snape had offered his assistance in finding the Horcruxes to Hermione, who had accepted it. Harry had no qualms in accepting her help in research, as long as she was safely at Hogwarts, and she had passed Snape's information - and the results of her own research and double-checking - on to Harry via a disguised Hedwig.

It was too late for Snape, though. He'd been Kissed the day after the last battle. Then again, he had probably expected it.

That still left the question of who had betrayed Harry and Ron to the Death Eaters. Hermione could have done it, since she knew Harry's location, and Harry and the Weasleys still believed it was her. His hatred of Snape knew no bounds, and just because Snape was innocent didn't mean that he hadn't hated Harry enough to hurt him by killing his best mate. Hermione hadn't been on good terms with the Weasleys ever since she had turned Ron down.

And what the Boy Who Lived believed, the British public believed.

And why would the British Ministry want to admit it had made another mistake? Admitting that Sirius Black was innocent had been hard enough.

Besides, it wasn't like Ron Weasley was a Death Eater.

But his girlfriend of the time, who he had turned to rather suddenly after Hermione had turned him down, was. She gave him a never-empty box of chocolate beans ... that also had a tracking charm.

And this was where Tonks was puzzled. Despite the cover story she had been told - that Turpin had confessed to being a Death Eater while under routine questioning for tax evasion in Spain and the Spanish Aurors had passed the information and suspect along to the Brits - she had a nagging feeling that the Ministry had known about this earlier. Or that they were making it up. True, she didn't believe Hermione had passed the information along - she'd sworn under Veritaserum to the Canadians, and they could usually be trusted.

Fact: Ron's box of infinite chocolate did have a tracking charm on it.

Tonks wondered how Harry would take this. The thought of Hermione being innocent was probably so painful to him that he would deny it for as long as he could.

Come to think of it, was even the Turpin evidence fabricated? That she had spread her legs for Ron several times and was his rebound girlfriend after Hermione had turned him down (a mighty sensible decision in Tonks' opinion) was not in question. But was she a Death Eater? Unlikely - even a thick idiot like Ron would have noticed that she had a funny tattoo while he was boning her. But it was possible that someone had placed the tracking charm on the box without her knowing? Tonks placed that thought on her shelf of Things To Do.

For now though, it wasn't relevant. She had the unsavoury task of breaking the news to Harry... and then explaining how Hermione had escaped from Azkaban. It wasn't as if that would ease his suspicions of her.


"A comparison of NEWT scores in the past fifty years of Mudbloods, Halfbloods, and Purebloods reveals some interesting differences when comparing average marks. Purebloods, thanks to their more controlled magic, score significantly better on Transfiguration. Mudbloods, thanks to their wilder magic, score better in the practical aspects of DADA, particularly in offensive spells. Purebloods do better in Herbology thanks to everyday knowledge they gain at home about Magical plants. There is no significant difference in the average marks for Potions, Charms, Arithmancy, or Runes, or Divination. Even the significant differences are a matter of a percentage point or two.

There is only one difference when it comes to comparing the marks of the best Mudbloods and the best Purebloods : the best Pureblood marks on Divination are higher - unsurprising considering that Seer abilities are well known to be inherited.

And the point of all this? There aren't too many differences worth mentioning (unless you count Muggle Studies). Those who say that Mudbloods don't deserve to be in the Wizarding world deserve to be flushed down the Loo of Life. Forgive them, for they are too ignorant to realize how ignorant they are."

--- page 45, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


Tonks watched Harry Potter's face carefully. She fingered the emergency Portkey in her pocket, ready to activate it in case he lost control of his magic and turned everything within a certain radius to kindling. She felt her mother wouldn't want to invite kindling to dinner twice a week, and Andromeda Tonks was a very good cook.

"She was innocent," he muttered. "She really didn't do it. I was her Wormtail... "

Tonks felt the magic around Harry sizzle a bit. What was the activation phrase for her Portkey again? Remus had once told her that the best activation phrase was 'aaaargh!' but in this case she was beginning to think that 'oh dear I think I hear Mother Nature calling' would be a better option.

"I always believed her initial confession, you know," he muttered, as if she wasn't there to hear him. "But we thought Ron would never walk again, and he had always been with me on the Hunt while she hadn't ... oh shit." He turned to her, a crazed look in his eyes. "What kind of snake is she?"


Why are Pureblood Mudbrains so proud of their History? Is it because they've contributed so little to it recently? Have they forgotten that the ancestors they are so proud of were less 'pure' than they are?

page 52, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


"Seven."

"Eight."

"Are you kidding? With a beak like that?"

"You're addicted to men with triangular noses, I swear."

"The nose makes the man, haven't I told you? Oh look look look - there's a nine walking right there!"

"Ew Granger, he's eight!"

"Jolly good, you don't think he's that bad either, eh?"

"For F--k's sake, he's eight years old!"

"So I'm looking out for future Mr Talithas. Sue me."

"Your daughter will be thrilled to know that her mother is matchmaking based purely on the shape of her prospective partner's proboscis. Especially given her father's snout - I bet you offer burnt sacrifices every week to the gods for making her get yours instead."

The two witches sat, as they always did on Saturday, outside the architectural masterpiece that was the Vancouver Public Library. Hermione sipped coffee (black, no sugar, no saccharine, no honey, no arsenic), Padma sipped tea (Earl Grey, thank you very much).

"Lavender wants to meet you," said Padma suddenly.

"Lavender? As in Mrs Won Won Weasley? She Who Must Not Be Quiet?"

Padma rolled her eyes. "Yes, that one. Don't be so hard on her, Granger, she's grown up. My sister was complaining about that the other day, so it must be true. Anyway, the Ministry told the Weasley Mafia about the new evidence in your favour, and they're feeling guilty."

"Oh good. Tell Lav Lav I welcome her offer to become a Necromancer and bring my parents back."

"Hermione!"

"Hmmm?"

"Never mind," sighed Padma, accepting the status quo that Bashing Lavender was Hermione's favourite gossipy pastime just as Bashing Parvati was Padma's. Not that Hermione had anything against Lavender, of course - if anything, Hermione was grateful to the Dumb Blonde for taking the Dumber Redhead off her. "Do you want to meet her?"

"What does she think?" asked Hermione, serious now. "What has she been told? Does she know about Tally?"

"She says - basically - everyone's feeling very guilty and that they want reconciliation. Unlike Harry, Ron, and Ginny, she wasn't really close to you, so her betrayal of you should hurt least."

"Lavender was my roommate for six years," said Hermione. She didn't really think Lavender was that dumb, by the way.

"And Lisa Turpin was mine for seven," retorted Padma. "Speaking of Lisa - "

"You think she could be guilty?"

"I was about to get to that!" admonished Padma. "Stop interrupting! Now, people change, of course, but I think she's only guilty of having a crush on the mo-Ron. Then again, she wouldn't be the first smart witch to suffer that fate," she pointed out with a grin. Hermione winced, embarrassed. "Hey, don't feel too bad. Ron was an inconsiderate, insensitive, boorish, jealous idiot, but he had a certain physical attraction - if he just had a speech impediment that kept him from saying anything, he wouldn't be a bad catch at all. Besides, he's grown up a little. Lav told me that Harry told her to tell you that Ron now has the emotional range of three tablespoons - she said he said you'd understand."

It took a few seconds, but Hermione did finally get it. She chuckled. "I compared his range to that of a teaspoon," she explained. "It was a compliment at the time," she added for habit's sake. "Or a teaspoon in a doll's house."

"Ah," said Padma sagely. "Trio joke. Got it. Now, what message should I take to Mrs Weasley?"

"Merlin, stop calling her that, I keep thinking of Molly instead." Hermione thought for a while. "No. I don't want to be close to any of them. I don't trust them near Talitha. Wasn't it enough for them to kill her grandparents?" Hermione broke down into Padma's arms and sobbed for a few minutes. Padma reached her free arm into her purse and discreetly cast a Notice Me Not charm around them. Even if Padma thought her friend was overreacting a bit, she was still her friend - and perhaps more, one day. Padma hadn't really found anyone since her husband had disappeared (presumed dead) during the war.


Let's think of a society like this : every person is a dot, and if two people communicate a lot, there's a line joining their two dots. The health of a society can be measured by the number of lines in it. Magical Society is small and has far fewer lines - it simply cannot compete with the much larger size of Muggle Society. It will never be as healthy as Muggle Society - unless it joins it. And that can be done without breaking International Secrecy Laws.

-- page 63, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


"She's a viper," said Tonks, after checking her documents from the Israeli Animagus Registration Office. "With light and brown stripes. The top stripe on her back is dark brown, some would say black, and it's surrounded on both sides by lighter brown. She also has a few blue splotches here and there... Harry? Harry, are you alright."

Tonks felt the magic ripple again, this time in a menacing Yippee My Human Can't Control Me Any More kind of way. She activated her Portkey just in time.


British Mudbrains should spend a day walking around Muggle London (or Edinburgh or Milton Keynes or Belfast or Cardiff or Coventry). Yes, Muggle cities are dirty and crowded. That's what being full of life does to a city.

-- page 69, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


"Harry also finally figured out that you were the snake who followed him on the Horcrux Hunt and gave him advice and bit a few enemies on their behalf. He felt so bad that he took out about three square miles of some deserted Scottish island."

"Wowsers!" said Hermione, inadvertently making use of her daughter's vocabulary. "Wait - island?"

"The Auror who broke the news to him - think you know her - Tonks? Oh yeah, you do! - Good - Anyway, she was smart - she expected something like that, so she took him there before telling him. She also made sure she had an emergency Portkey on her."

"Good on her. I take it that Lilac -"

"- Lavender -"

"- that Lemongrass knows this as well?"

"Yes," sighed Padma. "And she knows you're a snake. Ron was not impressed by that, I can tell you. She had to threaten him with no nookie to get him to stop ranting about how even if you were innocent, you were still a Slytherin in disguise while at Hogwarts."

"That's more of a punishment for Lilac," said Hermione after a while.

"Hermione," Padma sighed, "you're overdoing it. Lav's an easy target, how can she offer any challenge?"

"I've developed a strong allergy to challenges. Place a challenge in front of me and I'll turn it into sand so I can stick my head in it."

Padma coughed. Hermione looked at her. Padma raised an eyebrow. Hermione reviewed what she had just said, and reddened.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll turn the ground ahead of me into sand."

"This coming from the woman who's raising the daughter of the nastiest good guy of the last century."

"Yes, but I never f--ked him. That would have been a challenge. I respected Severus a great deal - he was principled, strong, sly, smart..."

Padma coughed.

"- but I never loved him or anything. It wasn't an option."

Padma raised an eyebrow, as if to say, 'What if it had been an option? What if the war hadn't happened?'

"He knew there was a good chance he wouldn't survive, regardless of who won or if there was a winner. His mother, Eileen Prince, was a Pureblood. He was the last Prince. The Prince Estate didn't have much money, but had a superb collection of Potions, Charms, and Dark Arts books and stuff. He also wanted his line to live on. So he asked me if I'd be willing to find a woman willing to bear his child by artificial insemination - that's what Muggles call the ingravesco ritual - in the event that he was incapacitated. I agreed."

"He didn't say anything about what kind of woman?" asked Padma after a while. She had suspected something like this, especially since Talitha Prince Granger was born three years after Snape died.

Hermione shrugged, which made Padma think that Snape knew he didn't have to specify anything other than 'someone like you'. Not that Snape loved Hermione or anything. They respected each other, and in times of war, that was enough. Hermione wanted to be a mother a couple of years after she fled to Canada and there were far worse sperm donors out there.

"You don't have any left, do you?" asked Padma.

"Any of what?"

"You know - his - his - stuff"

Hermione grinned wickedly. "Come on, Padma, you know me... let me know when you want some."

Padma grimaced. "Anita and Sasha are enough for me, Granger. As for you, however..."

Hermione had the decency to blush, before going to mutter something about if horses were wishes and what kind of airlines pigs used. Of course she had plenty of Snape's semen left.


I am not saying that Muggle Society has done everything right and Magical Society has done everything wrong. Most of my comments apply only to the Magical Society I have had most experience with, namely the British one. I'm told that the French and Spanish Magical Societies have a high percentage of influential Mudbrains as well. There are lots of Magical societies, and lots of Muggle societies.

Cases like Sirius Black, Rubeus Hagrid and myself - innocent people punished and sentenced to jail because people were unwilling to hear their stories - happen in the Muggle world too. But they don't have truth potions, while we do. Of course, they don't have the Imperius curse either.

-- page 75, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


The emerald-eyed man gazed at the thick folder his hired detectives - both wizard and Muggle - had put together on Hermione Granger. Her late parents had left her enough to buy a tiny apartment in Vancouver which she had then magically enlarged many times over. She had spent five years training to be a vet in the Muggle and Magical worlds, and now worked as a herpetologist. That hadn't made sense initially, but now it did. She could talk to her subjects / patients.

Hermione was a snake Animagus. In fact, she must have spent most of her sixth year becoming one - no wonder Harry hadn't seen much of her then. He wondered why she hadn't asked him to train with her ... on the other hand, if she had, then she would probably still be languishing in Azkaban since he would have told the Ministry to make her cell there Animagus-proof. Had she anticipated his betrayal of her that early?

The form itself wasn't particularly surprising - Harry had long known that Hermione was even more Slytherin than he was. She obviously had a thirst to prove herself, even if she didn't go about it in a particularly subtle way (hand raising in class, anyone?) and was highly ambitious when it came to pursuing knowledge or eliminating threats to her place as a Muggle-born in the Wizarding world. She figured out Umbridge's motive as soon as the Welcoming Feast in their fifth year, formed an illegal organization (complete with secret communication and punishment methods) under the toad's nose, blackmailed Skeeter ...

That the snake was an adder made sense too, considering Hermione's love for Arithmancy.

Of course, Hermione made mistakes as well - such as falling for Ron (Harry accepted that only a delusional neanderthal could pair those two together, though he'd never admit it) and being jealous of Harry's proficiency in Potions instead of trying to figure out why Snape's modifications to the potion brewing process made better potions. And not telling him about her Animagus training... even if had worked out well for her.

Harry didn't dare think of how guilty he would feel if Hermione had been languishing in Azkaban for the past ten years. It was enough that he felt guilty for the death of her parents.

But the thing he felt the most guilt about was ... how had he misjudged Hermione so? He thought of himself as a fairly loyal friend... but was he ever a good friend to Hermione? Had he ever even thanked her for the number of times she had lost sleep for him, that she had helped him out?

Well, maybe Lavender would be able to get through to her. They had all been very disappointed when Hermione had refused to meet her in person, and absolutely mortified when they heard her reasoning - "I don't trust you lot anywhere near me or my daughter." Hermione had offered to meet by video conference call, which Harry thought was quite interesting - Hermione was making her Muggle preferences quite clear.

In any case, he had other things to worry about right now, as one of the more influential Ministry Advisors and Wizengamot members. Draco Malfoy and his cohorts of Mudbrains - yes, even Harry used that term - wanted to introduce reforms that would ban Muggle-borns from Hogwarts. If they were leaving Magical Britain anyway, why bother educating them?

Harry could really use Hermione's advice on it.


Even if the British Ministry should declare me innocent one day, I have no desire to return. Most of the people I thought were friends were happy to believe that I could have supported Voldemort. I have no family left there that I particularly care about, thanks to British wizards killing off my parents. They even killed my familiar! (I suppose I should be grateful that they only skinned Crookshanks after he was dead.)

I am not turning my back on Magic - how can I? It's part of me. It would be like refusing to enter a bookshop or library - completely unthinkable. But the Magical Society I am part of right now - the Canadian one - welcomes me and people like me. Blood purity here is only important when it comes to measuring alcohol levels, as the many Don't Drink And Apparate campaigns have informed us.

-- page 83, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


A month later

"Are they up yet?"

"I'm hungry!"

"Come on, Tally, I'll make breakfast for you."

"Anita! You mustn't! Remember what Mum said!"

"Sasha! Mum said I should never use a stove again! This is breakfast - we can have cereal!"

"I'm hungry, Nita!"

Anita Jasmine Williams, being the oldest one there at the wise old age of ten (Alexander 'Sasha' Arun Williams was ten too, but he didn't count because he was a boy) took Talitha Prince Granger by the hand and led her from their twin bedroom to the kitchen.

Scowling, Sasha glared after them. Then he walked carefully to listen at the door of the room that their mothers were sharing. Unfortunately for the young eavesdropper, they had a Silencing Charm on. He scowled again and proceeded to follow his evil twin sister downstairs.

By the time he reached the dining table (which had several books and pens and a laptop scattered on half of it) Anita had already put three bowls out for their cornflakes. Tally was proudly carrying a small carton of milk out.

"Where's Nita?" he asked the younger girl.

"Getting cereal," replied Talitha, shortly before there was a thud from the kitchen, followed by the sound of a thousand rice krispies doing their best to carpet the kitchen floor.

"Bugger."

...

Fortunately, an hour later, their mothers were still upstairs and they had managed to clean the mess up.

Normally, Anita ate faster than Alexander. Today though, she was too busy speculating. It had been a week since Padma had brought them to visit Hermione and Tally in Canada. She knew it had something to do with the British Ministry declaring Aunt Hermione innocent. Her mum and Aunt Hermione had always been friends, and the kids saw each other every month... but something felt different this time. She thought it had something to do with them sleeping in the same room. Adults only slept in the same room when they liked each other, right? That's what June Ponce had said at school ("My parents used to sleep in different rooms and they're divorced now") and she would know. She was twelve.

It said a lot about changing social norms that the comment "But they're both Mommies!" never entered Anita's head.

Meanwhile, Sasha's thoughts were more mundane. He liked this Canada place. The air was nicer. And Aunt Hermione had an interesting collection of books.

Talitha thought that it had been quite fun to step on all those rice krispies and hoped she would get to do it again soon.


Any small isolated society develops quirks that solidify into traditions. There are tons of examples in the Muggle world. Pureblood Mudbrain society is typical of this as well. It's bad manners to Apparate into someone's living room. That's a good custom. It's bad manners for a witch to wear black socks. That's a stupid custom.

Why not throw away all Pureblood customs and start afresh? It's a tempting thought. But we have to remember that Magic is not Science. Scientific Knowledge has expanded, while Magical Knowledge has diminished. It's easy - and possibly even justified - to blame Mudbrains for this, but that's neither here nor there. It is worth looking at Pureblood History and Customs, for we might find out more about Magic that was once lost.

Besides, some customs make sense. I really don't want people Apparating into my living room. It takes ages to clean the gore off the walls after my defensive wards have done their work.

-- page 90, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger.


The witches got up eventually.

While Hermione busied herself in the bathroom, her bedmate organized the cheering section.

"Alright you lot," said Padma, speaking to the three youngsters in front of her. "Your Aunt Hermione, or your mum, is going to have to make an important phone call in an hour." They nodded. They had picked up, through various watered down accounts from their mothers, boring perusals of newspaper archives in the Magical section of the British and British Columbia Public Library systems, and the tried and trusted method of eavesdropping, most of what had happened to Hermione ten years ago and in the last two months.

"Hermione is kind of ..." Padma glanced at Talitha and hoped Hermione would forgive her (or better yet, never hear of what she was about to say) "... scared."

Curiously, Talitha didn't have much trouble accepting this. The ten-year-olds looked a little surprised though - what they had seen of their brunette aunt didn't lend itself to being scared of anything. She even killed roaches barefoot!

"She has bad dreams sometimes," said Talitha when her two older friends looked at her inquiringly. "I asked her about them. She says she gets scared of the things in them." She paused, before adding, "She's also scared of mongeese."

"Mongooses," muttered Padma absently as she made a note to ask Hermione about her nightmares. She suspected Harry and Ron screamed at Hermione in the ones that didn't include watching battle scenes or the Grangers dying a grisly death. "Anyway, you two," she gestured to her two spawn, "are going to stand at the door and stop her from leaving. Look menacing. Fold your arms - yes, good job Sasha, no Nita, stop holding your hands up like a monster. Yes, nice claws - we're going to talk about your fingernails tonight, young lady. Now, Tally dear, you are going to hold your mummy's hand, alright? And if she ever gets fidgety or nervous, squeeze it hard, okay? We want her to know that she's not alone, that we're all together for her. Understand?"

Tally nodded her head vigorously.

"Group Hug!" yelled Anita.

"Oh ick ewwww," muttered Sasha shortly before his mother's arm snaked out to drag him into it.


Give a man a fish and he will be full for a day.
Give a man a fishing rod and he will be full for the rest of his life.
Give a woman a fish and she'll find a man with a fishing rod and swap.

- bumper sticker on H.J.Granger's laptop


Lavender Weasley's first impression of Hermione Granger in ten years was that the bushiness of her hair hadn't changed a bit, but it was much shorter. She was also surprised at how casual and Muggle Hermione looked. Though she didn't think Muggles usually wore yellow tracksuits. Come to think of it, Hermione looked pretty attractive. And was that her daughter? The kid who the media had occasionally speculated on the father of? Wow, the kid really had the glare thing going well. And were those Padma's kids in the far doorway? This Muggle technology was pretty good...

Hermione's smirking voice broke into her reverie.

"Yo, Lav."

How was it, Lavender wondered, that she could be all dressed up and standing, while Hermione was lounging around in those casual pyjama substitutes sipping on a cup of ... something, and yet Lavender felt she was the one who had not read the invitation dress code properly? The Hermione she knew had a tough mask that hid an insecure interior. This Hermione was... different. Softer on the outside, harder on the inside.

Hermione hissed at her, and Lavender backed up.

"Sorry about that, old roomie of mine," said Hermione with a smile, "You looked so out there that I thought that greeting you in Parseltongue might make a difference. You can check with Harry for the translation later. You guys are recording this conversation, right? Don't worry, so are we. How are your kids? I hear you're quite the cook."

Lavender was so surprised at this that she failed to notice Talitha give her mother a squeeze. The kid knew her mother asked lots of questions when she was nervous or excited.

"Hello, Hermione," said Lavender. "It's good to have you back."

"Back?" asked Hermione in mock confusion. "I hadn't known I had gone anywhere. You guys never came to visit!"

"Er, right," replied Lavender. She suddenly seemed to realize Hermione's game. "Oh come on, Mione! YES, WE F--KED UP AND ARE SORRY! We're really, really sorry!"

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "No worries. You're forgiven."

Lavender was about to delve into new ways of saying sorry when she caught herself. "What? You forgive us? You mean it?"

"Of course not," Hermione replied. "Not in the way you want me to. It's old history for me. I've moved on. I've got other friends now. I'll never trust you folks again - you Weasleys - Harry included - stick together, and since I refused to become one, you all hate my guts."

"That's not true!" screamed Lavender.

"No, I suppose not," agreed Hermione after a thoughtful pause. "My apologies. Hate was the wrong word to use. The right word is trust. I'll never trust you guys again. If the situation ever rises again where it's the word of a Weasley against mine, I don't expect any Weasley to take mine. Which is fine with me, really - as long as I know what to expect."

"We were blinded by the evidence, Hermione. You did place a tracking charm on Harry's cloak. We didn't know about Snape. And Ron almost died."

"If it's any consolation," replied Hermione, "I wasn't the first to place that there. Dumbledore did it before me." She smiled, and wondered what Harry's reaction was. He was obviously listening in on the conversation, probably just behind the door behind a one-way Silencing Charm. "And if any of you had spent any time listening to me, I could have told you - under Veritaserum and with a Pensieve - what Snape told me. And if Harry had been less hot headed in rushing off on the hunt ... if it hadn't been for Snape and I, Ron and Harry would have been dead. Did Harry tell you that I was on the Hunt with him and Ron?"

Lavender shook her head, shocked again.

"Curious," said Hermione. "Ask him about it." She then turned into a snake for five seconds before morphing back. Talitha didn't mind, she'd seen her mum do the trick before. "Ask them about the snake that gave Harry advice on the trip, and who bit the legs of more than one Death Eater during an ambush. Anyway, I do have a couple of questions for you. You won't be able to answer them all yourself, of course."

Lavender nodded.

"I'd like to know what Ron said to Harry to make him leave me behind on the Horcrux Hunt."

"I can actually answer that," replied Lavender. "Ron said - "

"Wait," interrupted Hermione. "I'd rather not hear what a compulsive liar like Ron told you, because I doubt it's the same as what he told Harry. And I want Harry to explain to me why he believed it, because I don't buy this Keeping Hermione Safe shit at all. Everyone knew I could kick Ron's arse in a duel. Sorry," she added when she saw the look on Lavender's face.

"It's okay," said the blonde. "You've got the moral high ground here. We thought you didn't want to speak to Harry, Ron or Ginny because they were closest to you."

"Padma was right," said Hermione with a genuine smile, "you have grown up. I may have to stop insulting you when you're not around."

Lavender smiled, stopped smiling, and then smiled uncertainly.

"I don't want to speak to Ron or Ginny again," said Hermione seriously. "I think they only tolerated me because Harry did. They'll try to listen, and then their temper will get the better of them, and then I'll fight back - yes, I can fight back now! - and we'll have a screaming match and then Talitha will learn lots of new words and I'll have to spend ages getting her to unlearn them. Oh, and I'll probably say something I'll regret, and they definitely will. But I would like to speak to my old crush again."

Lavender's eyes widened. "Harry? You crushed on Harry?" For a moment, Hermione could see the Lavender she had roomed with again. Surprisingly, the experience was not unpleasant. "How come we never guessed?"

"I'm a snake woman, remember? The Sorting Hat would have placed me in Slytherin if I hadn't been a Mudblood. I can act when I have to. Besides, I knew Harry only wanted athletic pretty Quidditch girls. Not boring bookworms like me. Come to think of it, weren't those your words, one night when you were talking with Parvati and thought I was asleep?"

Lavender had the decency to look embarrassed, even though she couldn't remember the incident in question. She had no trouble believing she said it, though.

"I really am enjoying this," said Hermione, taking the time to stretch out her arms sinuously. "Oh silly me, I really should introduce you to my Tally." She knelt down to pick up Talitha who, thanks to Padma's spellwork, was now wearing a miniature version of Hermione's yellow tracksuit. "Talitha Granger, this is Lavender Weasley, an old schoolmate of mine. Say hello!"


If the International Secrecy Treaty was really working, why is it that Muggles have so many tales of witches and vampires and werewolves and dragons? Even their religious books talk about it - Moses in the Old Testament speaks of the magicians in the Pharaoh's court who Transfigured their staffs into snakes. And if it's not working... is it fair to humanity to deny them full knowledge of Magic?

Think about it. We need three generations of mages thinking about it before anything will ever get done about it.

-- page 96, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


In the room next to where Lavender spoke with Hermione, Harry paced.

Ron had long left, furious. Ginny had left a minute ago, greatly hurt. Harry was angry at Hermione at that, for Ginny had genuinely thought of Hermione as a friend. Harry wasn't sure about Ron - Hermione's accusations that Ron had only tolerated her because Harry did did have a kernel of truth. But to throw that at Ginny as well...

Trouble was, if Harry yelled at Hermione for hurting his wife's feelings, she could just turn off the connection. He had to calm down.

The tracking charm on the cloak... he wasn't surprised that the Headmaster had put it on him - it made a lot of sense really, especially considering that Albus had given it to him in the first place.

And she had had a crush on him? He'd never suspected it.

Her daughter was a sweet kid. Harry wondered who the father was. He was a bit surprised her middle name was Prince. He wasn't sure if that was a reference to Snape or Snape's book...

Hang on, she was calling for him. With a sigh, he headed for the door to the conference room. Lavender was there, looking confused.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" she asked. "Hermione's been hissing away the last min - oh. She was speaking Parseltongue and calling you. Got it. I'll leave you to talk then." She turned around to wave to Hermione and Talitha. "Bye Hermione - if you ever want to talk, let me know!" She even sounded genuine, Harry reflected. "And bye Talitha!"

The little girl waved as Lavender left the room. Then she turned her attention to Harry.

"You're the bad man who hurt mummy a long time ago, aren't you?"


If the Muggles ever discover the science behind magic without us telling them about it, we'll be in deepest, darkest, doodoo.

-- page 103, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


"Er," said Harry intelligently. Admittedly, the sight of Hermione and a mini-Hermione wearing hot yellow tracksuits was rather disconcerting. But he recovered. "Yes, that's me. I made a big mistake. I want to say sorry for it."

"Say sorry then!" demanded Talitha.

"I am very very sorry, Hermione," said Harry with a straight face. After all, it was what he had come here to say.

"He said sorry, Mummy," Talita informed her mother. "Do you think he means it?"

"Yes," said Hermione thoughtfully. "He probably does. Thank you for handling him for me. But now Mr Potter and I have a few nasty things to say to each other and I don't want you to hear them. Please go play with Nita and Sasha, alright?"

Talitha was unconvinced. "But you said he can speak Snake, mum? You can say nasty things to each other in Snake!"

Harry was, despite himself, amused. He was glad Hermione had such a good daughter.

"Pumpkin, there aren't enough nasty words in Snake for what I want to call Mr Potter. Please?"

Reluctantly, Talitha agreed, and headed for the door where Sasha and Anitha were still assuming their 'guard' positions. She grabbed both of them by the hand and dragged them off.

Padma gave Hermione a look, asking if she wanted her to leave too. Hermione, after some thought, nodded. Padma blew her a kiss, and toodled off to supervise the sprogs.

Harry shifted uneasily as Hermione turned her attention to him.

"Right," she said. "You're sorry. Great. Better late than never, and all that. Now, I'd like some questions answered. What the f--k did Mr Ronald Weasley say to you to make you leave me behind? And why in f--k's name did you obey him?"

Harry sighed. Part of him was grateful for him to Hermione for getting to business right away. The rest of him - well, the rest of him didn't want to be there at all. "I've asked myself that a million times, Hermione.."

"Granger."

"What?"

"Call me Granger. You may have apologized, but that doesn't mean you're a friend of mine. You were once, but I was obviously no friend of yours. I was the research girl, the walking encyclopaedia, the one you took for granted. If you want my friendship again, you'll have to earn it. Until then, you call me Granger. Kapeesh?"

"Right, Her - Granger," said Harry, who was both hurt and relieved. It kinda sounded like he had a second chance. "Ron was pretty cheesed off at you for turning him down at Bill and Fleur's wedding. He didn't tell me he was already screwing Turpin. He said it would be uncomfortable with both of you there, and said that you would always agree to do research for us from a remote location. And that you'd be giving up your Head Girl position for the Hunt and that you really needed that to give your ambitions in the wizarding world a better shot. And - that's it, really. I know it's all rather stupid in retrospect."

"Yes," said Hermione, "it was. I don't suppose I can say much to you that you haven't already said to yourself. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You always favoured him over me. What did I have to do to get you to listen to me? Become Quidditch mad? Throw away my c-nt and add an f--king p-nis?"

"It wasn't like that, Her - Granger," Harry protested.

"Oh, really? Name me one instance where Weasley and I argued and you supported me. And I don't mean standing aside, saying nothing. At best, you remained neutral - when you knew I was right. That's the same as supporting Weasley, and you know it."

Harry paused. "I may need to get back to you on that," he admitted after said pause.

"You do that, Potter. And I apologize for placing a tracking charm on your cloak. In case you wondered, I always thought there was a chance you'd go all noble on us and leave us both behind."

"And you thought I couldn't have done anything without you," said Harry.

Hermione was taken aback a bit. "Was I completely wrong?"

"I suppose not," said Harry. "I have a question for you - when did you become an Animagus, and why didn't you ask if I'd be interested in training along with you?"

"It was rather petty of me," Hermione admitted. "It was during the summer before sixth year, when you started showing an interest in Ginny. I was furious with you - I had always looked out for you, I'd spent hours helping you, and this wasn't enough for you? I took a step back, and decided that I'd have to start looking out for myself. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with you, you know. I would have taught you how to become an Animagus once I was done myself. But then you took off without me, and you lost your chance. Besides, I knew from Sirius that having a form was a very useful thing and I wanted a way to escape Britain in case Voldemort won. Every person I told was a security leak, since the information could be Legilimensed out of your mind. So it was fine to tell no-one."

Harry had trouble taking in all of that at once. "I see," he said, before adding, "sorry about the crush thing. I never knew."

"I made sure you didn't. I'm a good actress. Ginny probably guessed, but you males are f--king idiots. Wait, I take that back - Viktor figured it out. I should have stuck with him, but I was too young at the time."

"Right," said Harry. "Well. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Sure there is," she replied. "Keep Ronald Weasley away from me. Your friend has caused me more unhappiness in life than anyone except Voldemort. I don't intend to ever speak to him again. I don't ever want to hear his voice. If I ever happen to be in the same room with him, I would like you to cast a Silencio on him. His temper and stupidity cannot be trusted."

Harry winced, but agreed she had a point. If it wasn't for Ginny, he probably wouldn't hang around Ron much either nowadays.

"Second, I would like a public apology from you to me - and Snape too, while you're at it - in the Daily Puppet. Take out a full-page ad, and have it run a couple of times. In case Talitha ever wants to visit Britain one day, I don't want her vilified as the daughter of an escaped convict. I also want credit for my role in the war, including the bits about the snake who helped you out on the Hunt."

Harry was a bit surprised, but agreed.


Living in both the Magical and Muggle worlds is the optimal existence. At worst, you can have a good time observing all the points of contact of the two worlds and the mutual misinterpretations. When I was three, I believed in Santa Claus. When I was six, I didn't believe in Santa Claus. When I was twelve, I found that Santa Claus was very real - and a cautionary tale about a wizard who ate too much and got stuck in a chimney without a wand.

-- page 111, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger.


"I have political ambitions, Potter. Get used to me not being willing to be taken for granted."

"You're coming back to Britain, then?" he asked, brightening up.

"Why would I do that?" she asked. "I'm a Canadian now. And an Israeli, as you well know. What does Britain have to offer me? You defeated Voldemort, but the Mudbrains are still in power. I'm in touch with Mudbloods who've left; they complain of the difficulty in getting promoted and recognized. No thanks, I'm leaving that place behind."

"For a visit, at least?" he asked, almost pleading. "Molly would like to see you - and Talitha."

"Your mother-in-law is lying - she's never forgiven me for refusing to be shackled to her lump of a son. She sent me a Howler when I turned him down, saying that I should never darken her door again. Sounds like a mighty fine idea to me."

"Hermione! I mean Granger! Molly's left that all behind! And she's very sorry!"

Hermione looked rather surprised by that. "Forgive me if I have a trust problem with Weasleys, Potter. I don't plan to visit Britain any time soon. I do not trust the British Ministry one iota. I'd probably be placed under compulsion charms to stay once I got there. I'm not in exile. I'm home now."

"Do you think you'll change your mind in a few months?"

"Are you happy, Harry?"

Harry was thrown off by the subject change. "Happy? With what?"

"With the way your life turned out. Forget me, I'm talking about you here. Are you happy with your family, your kids? Is it what you'd dreamed of when you were with the Dursleys?"

Harry brightened up at the word 'kids', and immediately went into a long description of them. Hermione could tell that his family life was good - even Ginny, she had to admit. Ignorance really was bliss. She decided that telling him about the love spells cast on him and Ginny would do more harm than good.

They talked about other things, about recipes for meatballs ("Whatever you do, don't allow your six-year-old to add peanut butter to the meat."), about her book ("Please don't get it unbanned, because then people would stop reading it."), Ginny ("I was rather unfair to her, I guess - please send my apologies - she was a good girlfriend most of the time."), Fred and George ("They want to know if you're available as a consultant."), Parseltongue ("Snakes moan a lot about the temperature, don't they?"), yellow tracksuits ("Go watch Kill Bill, Potter."), Padma ("We dated in seventh year, yeah we shagged too, but her parents didn't approve of her being a dyke and I was too busy with war shit so we settled for being friends with occasional benefits."), Padma ("I think you're in love, Granger!"),...

"Hermione," said Hermione. "You can call me Hermione, if you like."

Harry smiled, a big wide genuine smile. "Thanks, Hermione. You don't know what that means to me."

Hermione smiled back. Twisting knives in wounds took a lot out of one's conscience. She was glad she didn't have to do it any more.

After some more talk, Harry asked uncertainly if he could ask for some advice on a political matter. Hermione groaned, muttered something about how certain things never changed, and then motioned for him to go on.

"Have you heard about Draco Malfoy's motion to ban Muggle-borns from Hogwarts?"

"Mudbloods, Harry. We're Mudbloods."

Harry winced. "Sorry, Hermione. I know you're used to that word, but I'm not. Anyway, about his bill..."

Hermione said she hadn't heard of it, and asked him to explain. He did so. She listened, asking a few questions here and there. She was impressed - Harry had grown up as well. His grasp of politics was a lot better now. Perhaps it was because she hadn't been around to always do the thinking for him and he had to learn to do it for himself. Or Ginny and the twins had trained him well.

"And that's what I'm worried about," said Harry. "Malfoy knows that this bill will fail. We've got enough votes to stop him. So what on earth is he up to?"

Hermione was thoughtful before saying, "I'm going to give you a very biased answer, Harry. Hear me out. But first, conjure yourself a glass of water."

"Er - what?"

She demonstrated the wand movements with a smirk.

"I know that!" he responded heatedly. "Oh. You've developed one of them sense of humour things. Bugger. They're overrated, I tell you!" he replied, happy to be bantering again. He conjured a glass of water. She motioned to him to start drinking. He looked at her strangely, and started to drink.

"Support Malfoy's bill," she said.

He spat out the water, and she clapped delightedly.

"I always wanted to see that!"

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd suspected something like that, and had made sure to make his spray extra theatrical for her benefit.

"Seriously," he said after joining her in a good chuckle, "I'd like this explained to me. Using small words, please."

Hermione nodded, and began pacing, in full lecturer mode. Harry, like any good non-dead non-gay male, followed the curve of her arse as she moved, resolving to watch this "Kill Bill" thing.

"First, there's no way Draco will expect that. Second, there is an international regulation that states that if a Magical school refuses to accept a student, any other Magical school can actively recruit that student. Otherwise, they aren't allowed to unless the student comes to them. Which most Mudbloods - sorry, Muggle-borns - don't know about."

Harry got the idea surprisingly quickly. "You want Canada et al to get all our Muggle-borns, eh?"

"Absolutely," said Hermione with a grin.

"And you know what that will do to Magical Britain?" he said. "It'll start a bloody avalanche! Soon all the bright youngsters will leave - we'll collapse within two hundred years!"

"Oh yeah." Hermione tossed her hair. "Told you I was biased."

Harry shook his head. "Look, I know you think that our society is beyond fixing, but isn't this a bit extreme? I think it can be fixed."

Hermione shook her head. Her hair was shorter than Harry's so the effect wasn't as impressive. "When is the vote?"

"In a week," he replied.

"Sleep on it," she said. "Let's meet again tomorrow and talk about it. If you're free, that is. I've got to go check on my clients. One of my anacondas swallowed a diseased rat and hasn't been feeling very good about it. Quite silly, really. I mean, even stupid human me knows how to distinguish a good rat from a bad rat."

"I didn't need to know that," said Harry after giving her a look. "It was bad enough hearing about Sirius having rodent munchies. And yes, I'm free, I'll come. Can I bring Ginny?"

"I was actually going to invite you to Vancouver," she said, "and I'm not willing to let my anti-Weasley wards down yet. Sorry, I wasn't kidding about my trust issues."

Harry winced, especially when he realized - from the look on her face - that Hermione's wards weren't metaphorical. She really had protections on her house that ensured that no Weasleys could enter it.

"Alright, I'll come to Vancouver - alone. Thanks for the invite," he added. "It's more than I expected."

"Don't get your hopes up - I've got all kinds of wards and shit to make sure you really come alone."

Harry looked disappointed again.

"It's not that I don't trust you," she said. "It's just that... okay, I don't trust you. And I don't trust the Ministry to not follow you. Haven't you wondered why this Turpin evidence turned up now rather than earlier?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've got some sources within the Ministry," she replied. "They suggested - suggested, mind you - that the Ministry had known about the tracking charm on Weasley's chocolate box earlier, but didn't care until the current faction in charge wanted me back because of the Muggle-born exodus. And it is not at all obvious to me that Turpin knew about the charm."

Harry frowned. A large part of him wanted to believe that it was all the Ministry's fault, but he realized that he shouldn't have needed the Turpin evidence anyway. "I've got my people too," he said. "I'll check on it. And if she's innocent, I'll do my best to make sure she gets off."

Hermione nodded in gratitude before looking at her watch. "Look, I've got to be going. Do you want to talk with Padma or something."

Harry nodded, and they said their mutual goodbyes before Hermione left to find Padma.


Muggles have visited the Moon several times, starting in 1969. Admittedly, this was nearly a century after us Magic folks did. But they did so without Magic and in a few more decades will be able to visit other planets. They have already sent their own robots - their equivalent of Transfigured House Elves - to explore Mars and Saturn's Moon Titan. There is no known Magical way of visiting Mars.

Of course, that does not mean that there is no Magical way of visiting Mars. But how many wizards and witches are willing to explore that possibility? The Age of Magical Discovery seems to have slowed to a trickle since Morgana Le Fay. Why are creative Purebloods like the twin founders of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes so exceptional? Why are the most progressive Magical economies often the ones that welcome Mudbloods the most?

- page 122, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


It was a subdued Wednesday night at the Burrow. Molly and Arthur were there, along with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Lavender, and George. Fred was away in Macau on business, while the remaining Weasleys were either dead or lived abroad.

Harry and Lavender, the only non-Weasley-borns at the table, had explained most of what Hermione had said. That included, after much prodding from Molly, the extent to which Hermione held on to her grudges against the Weasleys. Molly was wiping her eyes - apparently Hermione remembered the words of her Howler far better than the Weasley matriarch did - Ginny was very quiet, and Ron was fuming.

"How dare she!" ranted Ron. "Sure, we made a mistake! But she kept so many secrets from us - we should be angry too! If she'd only told us that her form was a snake, then..."

"Shut up, Ron!" yelled Ginny finally. "This is your fault! You made us all turn our backs on her because she turned you down! She helped Harry save us all, and what did you do? You just went along and got hurt! You were useless! You didn't even make good cannon fodder! Hermione now wants to destroy us all, and you know what? I bloody well agree with her! She was right not to trust us with telling her about her form! If she had, she'd still be in Azkaban!"

Her tirade took everyone by surprise. By the time Molly had recovered enough to reprimand her, Ron had already turned red and Apparated out.

"Sorry," said Ginny to Lavender, "I guess I went overboard there a little. My mind was desperately trying to catch up with my tongue."

Lavender shrugged. "Yeah, but at least you have a mind. Perhaps some of that got into his dense noggin. I'll go see him after a few minutes. I think I know where he's gone." She gave Harry a glance, as if to say that she now understood why Hermione didn't want to see either Ron or Ginny. In fact, she was having trouble trying to remember why she had fallen for Ron in the first place. Then she remembered why, and blushed. Prat or not, he was good in bed...

Harry stayed silent.

"So you're going to visit her tomorrow then, Harry?" asked George.

"I can give you some pies to take for her," offered Molly with a sniffle.

"She'll probably think they're poisoned or charmed," muttered Ginny. Harry nodded in her direction, mutely refusing Molly's offer.

Molly sniffled some more.

"She's awfully paranoid about compulsion charms," commented George thoughtfully. "Maybe we should start watching out for them ourselves."

No-one saw a worried expression flash across Arthur Weasley's face for a fraction of a second.

"She was looking awful cosy with Padma," said Lavender.

"Good for her," said Ginny. "They were good together in seventh year. Think I yelled at her for it."

Harry looked at his wife curiously. "Because she was bisexual?" he asked. "I thought that wasn't a big deal in the Magical World."

"That didn't matter," mumbled Ginny. "I was just very angry with her for refusing Ron. I didn't know he had already moved on to Turpin. Maybe in sixth year, Hermione was trying to make herself fall for a guy to prove to herself that she was bi or het." She shrugged. "I don't know, of course. I'm guessing here."

Lavender shifted. All this talk about ex-girlfriends of one's husband would make anyone shift. Besides, she had been Hermione's roommate for six years and never suspected anything lesbian about her, which (especially given what she had been wearing earlier that day) was a great pity. She and Parvati had had some good times...

Harry put his expressionless mask on again. He had really lost touch with Hermione after dumping her on the Hunt. He had thought Hogwarts was the best place for her. After all, she did get her Head Girl position.

"She became very secretive," said Lavender. "She did her duties precisely, and then disappeared into her Head Girl Room. Zabini was Head Boy; he said he hardly ever saw her. Now we know she was probably with you guys or meeting Snape. Or - as you thought she was doing - going to the library and getting clues for where the Horcruxes were and sending them to you via Hedwig."

"Is it true she was offered the Headmistress post at Hogwarts?" asked George, changing the subject to the present. Heads turned to look at the quiet patriarch.

"Informally, yes," Arthur admitted. "The Ministry offered it to her via Padma. She loved Hogwarts once, after all. But she refused point blank. She's refused anything to do with returning to Britain. The foreign press is loving it. The Prophet has said very little on the topic."

"I've got a headache," said Harry suddenly. "I'm really sorry Molly, everyone, but I've got to go home." He stood up at the table.

Surprisingly, Ginny - who would normally have belaboured him for such rudeness - also stood up to join him. That was Lavender's cue to go find her husband's ears to pull. It wasn't surprising when George said he had to make sure that the shop accounts hadn't been thrown into chaos with Fred's absence.

All this happened within ten seconds. Molly made to protest, before giving up.


The Muggle Studies syllabus at Hogwarts is about as useful as sorting coins in alphabetical order.

- page 125, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


"You alright, Harry?" asked Ginny softly as they exited the Floo of their Manor.

"Would you follow me, Ginny?" he asked suddenly. "Wherever I went, would you follow me?"

"What's going on, Harry?"

He paced for a while. He wasn't the assertive one in their marriage, but both of them knew that in the rare occasions that he latched on to an idea (usually involving saving people), it was easier to fall in love with Umbridge than to drag him out of love with that idea. All that mattered was the level of latching.

"What did you think about Hermione's book, Gin? Did you find it... offensive?"

Ginny thought for a while. "At the time, yes. I sometimes felt that I was included in the Mudbrains. She would make references to Muggle things that I had no idea of, and that made me feel excluded. But a lot of that was because I hated her at the time. I'll have to read it again. She did make lots of good points though - and I never realized what a change Muggle-borns had to go through."

"Do you know what Neville thought?" he asked. Neville Longbottom had been one of the few people who protested adamantly in favour of Hermione's innocence. He considered her explanation via the Canadian Ministry ten years ago to be adequate proof of her claims. He hadn't exchanged any words with Harry in ten years other than basic greetings and weather comments ("The weather's muggy today, isn't it?" "Yeah, slightly muggier than yesterday." "Yeah. Not as bad as the day before though." "Yeah. Do you think it will be muggy tomorrow?").

Ginny shrugged. It wasn't as if she and Neville had talked much either.

"I asked Hermione what she thought of Malfoy's bill," said Harry, running his fingers through his hair. "She asked me to support it."

Ginny turned to him in surprise. He related to her what Hermione told him.

"She's changed," said Ginny. "So much anger ... was she always like this?"

"Edgecombe and Skeeter would say so," Harry pointed out. "Ron did get one thing right at school - Hermione is brilliant but scary. Or was it scary but brilliant? Whatever. Now we that we're all grown up and stuff, she's scarier. And I honestly don't want to be on the wrong side of her. If there's another prophecy out there that predicts that I'm all that stands against the Dark Lady Granger, I'm heading straight for the Fated Heroes Department and requesting a redeployment to Ulan Bator."


What Mudbrains know about the Muggle World can generally be written on a postage stamp with a thick-nibbed marker.

- page 130, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


"Do you think I should tell Harry and Ginny about the love charm then?" asked Hermione. She was lying in bed, her arms wrapped around Padma. They were both in bed, having tucked their sprogs in. They were still in nightclothes, though this was doubtless a temporary state of affairs. "I mean, Harry seems happy, and perhaps Ginny is too, though I don't really care about her."

"You're not still hung up on him, are you?" asked Padma. Her hand was slowly making its way up Hermione's right leg. The leg moved to give her hand better access.

"Hell no," replied the Potential Dark Lady. "Ooooh, that feels good. Gods, Padma! It's just strange dealing with those people again after so long... ignorance is bliss - aaaahhhh!"


Salazar Slytherin's maternal grandmother was a Muggle. She wasn't very nice to him. Ditto with Voldemort's father. And for that, thousands of wizards and witches paid the price.

Adolf Hitler's propaganda chief Goebbels - without whom the Nazis would not have been as successful, or even in power - was a wizard. And for that, millions of Muggles paid the price.

- page 139, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


"They're screaming again," said Sasha downstairs. "Shouldn't we tell them that their Silencing Charms don't always work?"

He was reading one of Hermione's books, some Muggle story about a spaceship that operated on probabilities. Bizarre stuff. His sister was plaiting Talitha's bushy brown hair. The hair was really black, but Hermione found that she got more 'Oh you two are so cute!' comments when she was walking with a brown haired Mini-Me instead of a black haired one.

"Are you kidding?" asked Anita incredulously. "The longer those two are up there, the longer we get to get to keep the telly on!"

"I don't think I've heard Mum that loud before," said Talitha with a thoughtful look. "Not even when I put Jamie in the microwave."

"Who's Jamie?" asked Sasha, perking up immediately.

"My old goldfish. He was feeling cold."

Sasha was about to ask further questions, but was dissuaded by the look on Anita's face.

"We buried him at sea," Talitha added nonchalantly. "I put him in a box made for fishes and we wrapped it in a little flag I got from the fair and Mum lowered him into the Pafisik with her wand."

"Pacific," corrected Sasha and Anita in unison. They looked at each other and mutually and wordlessly decided that what had just happened actually hadn't.

"Yeah, that," said the goldfish murderess. "I said the eu - the eulo - the euli - I said the prayer," she added proudly.

"Do you remember what the prayer was?" asked Anita.

"Yep! It was ... O Great Fish God, Please Accept This Fish In A Tin, For Thou Art Great And Stinky."

Anita and Sasha looked at each other.

"It was good of you to get a Thou in," said Anita uncertainly.

"Stinky?" asked Sasha, genuinely confused.

Talitha gave him a look. "Everyone knows fishes are stinky."


Mudbrains suffer from mental constipation - their brains are full of shit.

The moral compass of a Mudbrain is highly reliable. Ask a Mudbrain what to do in any situation, then do the opposite.

Mudbrains think they are gods. This makes sense, since deities make excellent thingies to blame.

A Purebrain and a Halfbrain walk into a bar. A Mudbrain would be there as well, but got lost before the joke even started.

Mudbrains believe in eugenics, which makes you wonder why they procreate.

-- insults to throw at a Mudbrain insulting you. (Caution: only use if you can run faster or hex better than they can)
-- Appendix H, I'd rather be a Mudblood than a Mudbrain, by H.J.Granger


Epilogue:

Harry voted for the Muggle-born Exclusion Bill, and then left Britain with Ginny and their small brood. Ginny lost her hand in a motorcycle accident, and realized that she didn't love Harry any more. Suspecting something, she asked Harry to take his ring off for a while, and they discovered that they had been under a love charm for ages. Fortunately, they were good friends and decided to stay together for the sake of the kids. It is alleged that they are falling in like - at least - again. They never did find out, despite much trying, who put the charm on them. Neither Hermione nor Padma ever admitted to knowing.

With Harry finally freed from Ron's pernicious influence, he and Hermione became better ... acquaintances and colleagues, though never quite becoming fast friends.

British Muggle-borns were given a much better education at various other institutions, and Hogwarts declined. Britain became a shining example of why Muggle-borns were important.

Talitha enjoys having an older brother and sister - Anita adores her younger sister and often plays dressup with her. Sasha won't admit it, but he likes having someone to boss around, and having a mum who's as crazy about reading as he is. Padma and Hermione were married two years later. Hermione has written two books with Harry : one on Parselmouths and one on snakes (with lots of interviews with said animals). Padma is a Charms expert for a clothing company, adding charms to all kinds of clothes from baby nappies to Auror uniforms.

Lisa Turpin was found to be guilty, but was murdered by unknown assailants on her way to Azkaban.

Ron and Lavender separated soon afterwards, and are now divorced. Ron now plays Quidditch for a second league team in Japan. He enjoys Japanese Muggle food greatly. Lavender opened a Muggle bakery and a wizarding catering business with Molly Weasley that is unsurprisingly successful. Arthur takes care of the accounts (and his role in the love charms on Harry and Ginny was never discovered).


"My feelings for Ron Weasley are purely homicidal." - H. J. Granger.



I make no apologies for Hermione never telling Harry about the love spell. It's also intentional for loose ends like Arthur and Who Killed Lisa and Ministry Plots to remain loose. That's how things work in real life, except with even more loose ends.