A/N – As some of you may have noticed, I have changed the rating on this story to 'M'. I recently finished the storyboard for this fic and it gets a lot darker than I had initially planned, so I decided to just change the rating now.

Also, a huge thanks to The Sinister Man, who recommended my story in a recent chapter of his phenomenal story, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin. To any of you who have somehow not heard of this gem, I suggest you take a look.

Chapter 8: Calm Before the Storm

"You know, I am going to be so glad when I turn seventeen and can finally use magic outside of Hogwarts," Hermione remarked, letting out a soft groan as she placed a box filled with canned soup on the small pile in the storeroom of the safehouse.

"I can believe it," her dad replied with a smile. "Being able to levitate all of this would be much easier than carrying it." His smile turned mischievous. "But then you wouldn't get as much exercise, and I know that's very important to you."

"I'm getting plenty of exercise, thank you very much," she responded primly. It was an old disagreement between the two of them.

The minutes flew by as they continued to unload the food into the safehouse, until eventually they were finished. By that time, Hermione was covered in sweat and could already tell that her arms and back would be very sore the next day, but there was still a sense of accomplishment that made all the fatigue and discomfort worth it.

"Mellon," Hermione clearly enunciated, and the doorway into the safehouse shimmered and disappeared, leaving the teenage girl looking at a plain, rocky surface once more. Turning around, she saw her father looking on in amazement.

"It doesn't matter how many times I see it, that's still incredible," he commented.

"Yeah, Tonks does good work," Hermione agreed. The metamorph had played a pivotal role in establishing the safehouse network since Hermione was still underage. While there was an anti-scrying ward built in that should prevent the ministry from detecting underage magic use when the door was shut, all of the initial work on placing the wards and expanding the interior had to be done by someone of age. And of all the people Hermione knew, Tonks was the one she felt most comfortable asking for help in her scheme. Not just because she got along well with the other woman, but because she was confident that Tonks wouldn't report it to Dumbledore.

This thought made Hermione sigh, bringing so many conflicting emotions to the forefront of her thoughts. She had always respected the headmaster, but now she was beginning to see a different side of the man. Not that he was evil, but he was convinced that his way was the only way, refusing to consider other people's ideas and counsel, a tendency which had led to her best friend running away and his godfather Sirius being killed. Given that Sirius had been Tonks' mother's cousin, the young Auror had not been any more pleased with Dumbledore's schemes than Hermione had been.

She pushed these thoughts away as she climbed into the car with her father.

"So, how many more of these safehouses are you going to try to make?" he asked as they pulled onto the small dirt road that would lead back to civilization.

"As many as I can," she said truthfully. "I have a feeling we're going to need them." A few moments of silence passed before she continued. "I'd still like you and Mum to consider leaving the country." In truth, there was a part of her that didn't want to just ask. In a month she would be of age and could use magic to remove their memories and compel them to go somewhere safe. A year ago, she might have even gone through with it, but after seeing so many times in the past year where her initial thoughts and ideas would have been detrimental, or even disastrous, she had learned that she didn't always have the answer to every problem.

Her friendship with Susan had been helpful in that regard. While Harry and Ron would normally just go with whatever she said, Hermione had learned that Susan was perfectly willing to challenge her when some of her ideas had flaws she hadn't considered. So now, though it was difficult for her to admit, she had come to the realization that she didn't have the right to make choices for other people. Looking back, it was somewhat embarrassing that she had ever thought that, especially considering her fervor for freeing the House Elves (a cause that she still supported, but had been forced to put on the backburner given more pressing concerns).

As always, even a tangential thought relating to Harry brought a wave of sorrow as memories of her deceased friend sprung to mind. It was his money that was funding this network of safehouses, as well as many other purchases that Hermione felt would be useful given the impending war. She'd spent the past few weeks stockpiling potion and healing supplies, maps, food, magically expanded wizarding tents, and other such things. She just wished that he was still here to see it.

"I'm running a little bit low on funds," she said after a few minutes. "Can we sell some more jewels soon?" To get around the strict laws regarding exchanging magical and non-magical currency, she had taken to purchasing jewels in the magical world and then selling them the non-magical jewelers. Maybe not the best approach, but certainly better than just conjuring muggle money, as she was sure many in the wizarding world did. After all, how else would the perennially poor Weasleys have been able to pay for three taxis to drive them for hours from the Burrow to London during the summer before her fourth year?

"Sure, let me get in touch with Charles and we'll set something up," her father replied easily.

"Thanks," Hermione said, then settled back in the comfortable seat as she thought over the additional tasks she still wanted to accomplish before returning to Hogwarts next week. I'm meeting with Fleur at lunch on Monday. After that I could go to Diagon Alley, see about purchasing some extra brooms for transporting people between the safehouses. Maybe stop in and see Fred and George's shop…

Her father's classical music filled the silence in the car as she continued to plan.

While most of the stores in Diagon Alley were plain and subdued, likely in an attempt to not draw the attention of the "troublemakers" the Ministry had recently begun to warn the population of (no mention was ever made of Voldemort in official Ministry notices), the Weasley Twins' new store was so eye-watering it was almost painful to look at. Quite a number of passersby had stopped to stare at the display window where an assortment of products could be seen bouncing, flashing, popping and shrieking.

With some trepidation, Hermione pushed the door open and entered the strange shop. Customers were everywhere, with people having to push through the crowded aisles to reach their desired products.

As she took a few moments to browse through the various inventions Fred and George had created, Hermione was unwillingly impressed with their creativity and skill. She was particularly fascinated by the daydream charms, though, as usual, she couldn't help but feel a small frisson of frustration that they had taken such an incredible idea with limitless possibilities and chosen to use it on something so… juvenile.

"So, the delectable Miss Granger has emerged from wherever she's been hiding all summer to come visit us?" Fred said in mock astonishment as he appeared suddenly, startling Hermione so much that she almost dropped the box she was holding.

"I haven't been hiding, I've just been busy," she retorted as she placed the item back on the display. Not an entirely true statement, but she really didn't want to think about that right now.

"And what is it that brings you to our humble establishment today in spite of your incredible busy-ness?" George asked as he turned a corner.

Hermione shrugged. "Just wanted to see how the store was going. You've got some pretty impressive magic here."

Fred glared at her. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger? She would never approve of pranking products." The stern tone of his voice was completely at odds with the amused expression on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I still think that it's a waste for you to use your talents just for jokes and pranks, but I do acknowledge that you have the right to choose what to do with your lives, and making people laugh is not a bad thing so long as it's not at other people's expense. But if you thought about it, I imagine that you could find uses for many of these products that are far more useful, and thus, more lucrative."

The twins shared a look before turning their attention back to the bushy-haired girl. "For example…" George prompted.

"Like these daydream charms. Could you modify them so that they last longer and control what a person dreams about at night?" Hermione inquired.

"Yes," Fred responded slowly, obviously confused. "But giving people wet dreams doesn't sound like what you were talking about."

"NO, that's not what I meant," Hermione objected, flushing at Fred's comment. "If you can control the content, instead of having something… erotic, what if you put in an informative lesson to help people revise for their OWL's or NEWT's? If it's just for a fun daydream, people are going to be very limited in what they're willing to pay. But if it helps them do better on tests that will have a major impact on future job opportunities, many people will think it worthwhile to pay fifty or a hundred or maybe even more galleons for it." Given how much students had been willing to pay for tutoring as the tests drew near (not to mention the supposed 'study aids' that had been so common) Hermione was confident that her idea would be quite a money-maker.

Glancing up, Hermione couldn't stop the smile that spread at the gob-smacked look on Fred's face. "That's brilliant!" the boy exclaimed softly.

"Come with us," George instructed as the twins each grabbed an arm and all but dragged her past a curtain and into a side room. There were still plenty of products on the shelves here, but the packaging was more subdued.

"This is our more serious line of products, mostly things for defense," Fred explained. "We got a big order from the Ministry for our Shield Hats, and we're looking at expanding into other areas as well, but we have come to the realization that our ingenious minds are focused primarily on pranks. We just don't have the mindset necessary to see more serious applications."

"But you, however, do," George continued, picking up right where Fred had left off. "How would you like a job as an independent consultant helping us develop a more mature line of products?"

"Which reminds me, we also need to talk about something related to the business," Fred said much more seriously.

Hermione looked at the two redheads suspiciously. "What would be involved in me being an independent consultant?" she asked, her tone wary.

"We've got a whole bunch of stuff in the back that we haven't figured out how to use yet. We'll send you some of that, and a bunch of our regular products, and you see if you can find someway to make something out of it that people like you would buy."

"People like me?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

Fred was not an all intimidated as he explained his earlier statement. "Yes, intelligent, hard-working and serious people like you."

Hermione doubted that's what he had actually meant, but she couldn't deny that the idea of developing new products piqued her interest. "I'm still busy now, but once I'm back at Hogwarts I'll have more time, so send it to me then and I'll take a look at it," she finally decided.

"Cheers!" George exclaimed. "Glad to have you on board."

"Indeed, it will be great to have you helping to expand the business that you own 20% of," Fred added casually.

"That I what?" Hermione demanded.

Both twins looked much more somber now. "Harry gave us our start-up money, so we decided that he deserved 20% ownership. And since you inherited almost everything from him…" George's voice trailed off.

Suppressing the sorrow that always came when she thought of Harry, Hermione frowned at this information. "As much as I appreciate it, I have plenty of money now. Maybe it would be better to give it to Ron," she suggested.

The twins shared a look. "Are you sure you want us to do that?" Fred asked. "We know the two of you aren't exactly getting along right now."

That was an understatement. Ron had not been pleased that Hermione had been Harry's primary beneficiary, and though she tried to ignore it, it hurt that her sole remaining friend of so many years was getting jealous over her newfound wealth.

"Maybe if Ron feels like he got something it will help to smooth things over," she suggested.

Both of the older boys looked a bit dubious at that, but neither made any comment.

"Well, I need to go," Hermione finally said. "Send whatever you want me to look at to Hogwarts and I'll see what I can come up with."

A week later she was back on the Hogwarts Express. Though it seemed strange to be riding in a separate compartment from Ron, Hermione was grateful that Neville, Susan and Hannah had all joined her. Conversation was still stilted, however, as Susan was still concerned about her Aunt, who was still in Saint Mungo's after barely surviving an attack in her home a few weeks earlier.

It was just one of many signs that things were going very wrong in the Wizarding World, though, of course, the Minister still refused to even consider the possibility that Voldemort had returned. More and more people were asking questions and demanding answers that he didn't want to give. According to Neville (or more accurately, according to Neville's Gran) it was only a matter of time before the Wizengamot kicked him out of office. The problem then would be who to have take over?

Given that Hermione had never heard of any of the possible candidates the other three were discussing, she had nothing to contribute to the conversation, but she was pleased to see that at least some people were starting to take notice of the catastrophe they faced. It wasn't much, and it certainly wasn't enough, but at least it was a start in the right direction.

A few days into the school year Hermione found herself in the office of her head of house, wondering what could possibly have caused Professor McGonagall to be looking at her with such a stern expression.

"Is there a problem, Professor?" she asked levelly, forcing herself to remain calm.

"As you may recall from the Headmaster's comments at the opening feast, all packages intended for students are being inspected for any suspicious items. I cannot even begin to express how disappointed I was when I saw what sort of items you had purchased, Miss Granger," the teacher said, now glaring.

"I… what, I didn't…" words failed her as Hermione tried to understand what she was being accused of.

"Skivving Snackboxes. Confunding Curios. The Complete Prankster's Package? Love Potions? Good heavens, Miss Granger, what you possibly want with all of these?"

The Weasley Twins! Hermione opened her mouth to try to explain but shut it again when she saw a mischievous glint in the professor's eye. Apparently, Fred and George weren't the only ones pranking me, she realized.

"Really, Professor, is this how you've taken to entertaining yourself now?" Hermione huffed in frustration.

The stern expression melted into one of amusement. "If you're going to associate with known pranksters, Miss Granger, you'll need to get used to it."

"Yes, I fully expect that Fred and George will not hesitate to play practical jokes on me. I just didn't expect that a teacher who is well known for disapproving of such behavior to join in."

"Despite my usual serious demeanor, I am not entirely without a sense of humor," the professor stated dryly. "Though I must admit I would still like to know why the most notorious pranksters Hogwarts has suffered through in recent years have decided to send you so many of their products."

"I agreed to help them develop more serious merchandise," Hermione explained simply.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I suppose given the current situation we could all use a little more laughter in our lives," she muttered before taking a deep breath and looking once more at the girl in front of her. "Very well, Miss Granger, I will let you keep these items. Know that if you do use them to disrupt classes, I shall be very cross with you."

"I would never do such a thing," Hermione promised fervently.

Now it looked like the professor was fighting an inner war with herself. "And in the future, I suggest that you have the Weasley twins send future products to me, and I will pass them on to you," she said with obvious reluctance. "That way we can avoid any false alarms in Mister Filch's monitoring of the mail."

"I'll let them know," Hermione responded. "Now, unless you have any more pranks you'd like to play on me, I'd like to request a meeting with the headmaster."

The stern Scotswoman was clearly startled by this declaration. "May I ask why?" she inquired.

"I have certain matters that I need to address with him," Hermione said calmly.

"The headmaster is a very busy man," the professor retorted. "I'm sure I can help you with whatever you feel needs to be… addressed."

Hermione made no effort to soften the blow against her once-favorite teacher. "Given the fact that you never once stood up for Harry when he was mistreated by the others students, and even worse, by your colleague Severus Snape, nor did you make any effort to oppose the measures Umbridge used to oppress the muggleborns and other 'undesirable' students last year, I have absolutely no faith in your ability to resolve these issues satisfactorily."

McGonagall was obviously taken aback by the blunt statement. "What?" she finally managed to utter.

"Did you do anything about the insulting badges Draco Malfoy passed out to the other students during the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Hermione countered. Inside, Hermione was startled at the confrontational turn this conversation had taken, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Months of anger and frustration were finally floating to the surface. "Or what about when everyone thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin? While he was being shunned for being a parselmouth, I don't recall you ever taking any action on his behalf, nor do I recall you ever intervening when Harry was being insulted and belittled by Snape. And while I acknowledge that my willingness to follow Dumbledore's instructions not to share any important information with Harry prior to fifth year played a part, I think that your poor performance as Head of Gryffindor in seeing to the welfare of all the students in your care was also a very large factor in his decision to run away." As she finished her rant, Hermione cringed internally. McGonagall had a well-deserved reputation for being unyielding when challenged.

Instead of anger, however, the professor's face was one of remorse. "I will arrange for you to meet with Professor Dumbledore," she said quietly.

Hermione paused at the top of the spiral staircase to gather her thoughts, then took a deep breath and knocked.

"Ah, Miss Granger, come in," Dumbledore called.

"Thank you for seeing me, Headmaster," Hermione said politely as she entered. Her thoughts wandered for a moment as she remembered the last time she had set foot in this room, the night that she had learned that her best friend had been murdered. Despite the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, she knew now was not the time for distractions.

"Of course," the old man said jovially, but his eyes didn't seem to match the tone of his voice. "Now, what can I do for you?"

No sense beating around the bush now. "I would like to know why there has been no punishment for the members of the Inquisitorial Squad, especially Draco Malfoy, who is still a prefect despite everything he's done."

Dumbledore studied her for a moment. "And why do you feel this is any of your concern?" he inquired.

Hermione looked straight in his eyes, refusing to be cowed. "As a student in this school, I am concerned that someone who has demonstrated a propensity for victimizing his fellow students has been allowed to retain a position of authority over the other pupils. And as a prefect, I find it insulting to be considered on his same level."

A moment of silence followed this bold declaration. "Mister Malfoy was following someone he believed to have proper authority," the headmaster finally replied.

"That's the exact same excuse the Nazis used. Mister Malfoy was excited at the idea of me being tortured," Hermione snarled. "He knew full well that Umbridge was acting far outside of what was legally permitted. He didn't care. He wasn't following her because he respected her authority. He went along because she allowed him to do exactly what he wanted to do – torment those he saw as being less than him. I wouldn't be surprised at all if he'd already joined the Death Eaters. And I don't understand why you don't seem to care."

"I assure you, Miss Granger, I take the safety of my students very seriously," Dumbledore said gravely. "The faculty and I are watching out for all of the students in this school to ensure there are no threats, whether that is from the outside or the inside."

"So, you're not going to do anything?" Hermione asked, her voice deceptively calm.

"The disciplinary measures for the actions of the Inquisitorial Squad was handled last year," the headmaster replied, his voice no less calm. "The matter is over and done with."

Though she had suspected it would come to this, Hermione still felt a pang of regret as she unpinned the prefect's badge from her uniform and set it on the desk in front of her. "If Draco Malfoy represents the type of student you want as prefect, then I refuse to continue to serve in a position that is obviously far beneath me."

"Thank you all for coming," Hermione said, looking around at the room where the Defense Group was gathered once more. "It's clear that, if anything, our world has gotten even more dangerous in the past few months. We need to learn to defend ourselves now more than ever."

She glanced over at Susan and Neville, who were standing in the front with her. "The three of us have discussed this, and we want to continue to teach those who are willing to learn. But we also need to make sure that we are not teaching people who will use what they have learned to support the Death Eaters. So, anyone who wishes to continue meeting with us will be required to sign a magically binding contract that they will not support Tom Riddle, aka 'Lord Voldemort' or any of his followers, commonly known as the Death Eaters," she said, holding the contracts up so the other students could see them.

"Why not just say we have to obey the Ministry, or follow the law, or something like that?" one of the smaller students in the front asked.

"Laws can be changed," Hermione said bluntly. "And I have absolutely no trust in the Ministry. In case you've all forgotten, this group was started because they didn't want us to learn how to defend ourselves."

"Can we really protect ourselves if they try to kill us?" someone wondered, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

Hermione thought for a moment about how much she wanted to reveal. "I have been making some preparations just in case things get very bad," she admitted. "But we all need to learn enough to do our part. Anyone who signs can stay. The rest will have to leave."

While most of the students willingly signed the contracts, there were a few who left instead. Looking over at the serious expressions on her friends' faces, she could tell that she wasn't the only one who would be remembering exactly which students had refused to sign.