Unofficial Portkey Archive

A Coven of Prefects - Harmony Version

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

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Chapter 6: So Now That You're A Camper... (part 2)

The matron of The Inn at Fort Quesnard stumbled upon a skyclad Hermione in the garden that afternoon. Stumbled, that is, in the literal sense...the elderly witch didn't see the Fifth-Year stretched out on a towel behind a raised planting bed, and tripped over her legs. A bucket of garden tools went flying when hands stretched out to keep her from falling.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed, as she scooted to her knees and began to gather the stray implements. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine dear, I just wasn't expecting you to be there," Helene replied. Noticing for the first time that Hermione wasn't wearing a robe, she added, "Did you know that there are notice-me-not charms protecting our beach? I saw a few of the other guests down there right after lunch."

"Erm...yes, we were told that, sorry," Hermione replied, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about her nudity. "I'll just transfigure the towel back into my nardy and get out of your way."

"Oh, please...don't feel that you have to on my account," Helene replied, placing a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. "If you feel more comfortable sunning alone, rather than with the other witches, then by all means, stretch out."

Hermione considered the older witch's words for a few moments, before she nodded.

"Thanks...are you certain that I won't be in the way?"

"Not at all...I was just going to do a bit of pruning on the opposite side of that planter, don't mind me."

Hermione smiled, then laid back down on her transfigured towel while the inn owner took out her muggle pruning shears.

"Are you adequately protected, dear?" Helene asked.

Hermione lifted her head and took in a sharp breath, before realizing that the older witch was probably not talking about a contraceptive potion.

"You mean from the sun, right?"

"Yes, dear."

"I took the sunblock potion this morning, thanks," Hermione replied. She turned her face away when she laid back down, hoping that the older witch didn't see her blush. Not that it was her fault that she'd been daydreaming about shagging Harry. How could she not, after having had some of her more elaborate and explicit fantasies exposed and replayed in her head during Occlumency training that morning?

"It's a shame that you can't work on your tan while you're here," Helene noted.

Hermione's eyes widened, but she kept her head down and turned away as the older witch carried on.

"I mean here you are, with the perfect opportunity...but it does make sense. Wouldn't do to have you head off to a nighttime prefect's meeting at Hogwarts and seemingly return an hour later with sun-bronzed bits."

"I guess."

"So you spent part of your hols on the Continent, then?"

Hermione turned to face the older witch.

"Erm...yes...Cote d'Azur...how did you know?"

"Your tan lines, dear," Helene replied smiling, nodding towards Hermione's torso. "Topless sunbathing and thongs are still outside of the norm on English beaches, no?"

Hermione snorted. "Yeah, I guess that you're right...so how is it here?"

"Here?" asked the inn owner. "Still rather Victorian, I'm afraid, especially when there's a mix of witches and wizards."

"No, I meant on the muggle beaches."

"Oh...well, as a matter of fact, my tan lines aren't much wider than yours."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "But I thought you said that swim costumes here are Victorian?"

"Oh they are, dear, they are," Helene said with a smile. "But the muggle beach down the road, well...it is a tad more tolerant."

"I see," Hermione said with a grin.

"If it wouldn't be so disgusting for you, I'd ask if I could you join you."

"What? Why would you say that?"

"Because you are young and beautiful, while I am old and flabby."

"Oh, hush," Hermione replied quickly. "I could only dream of having a body like yours when I'm your age." She looked down towards her chest and mumbled. "Or at my age, for that matter."

"Now it is you who is being silly," Helene replied. She looked around the grounds, then asked, "So would you like some company?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Sure."

"Thanks," the older witch said, as she slipped her robes over her head and transfigured them into a cushioned-charmed beach blanket. She got down onto her knees, and then called out, "Tizzy?"

A house elf popped up next to the two witches.

"Yes, Mistress Doe-Tell?"

"Some sunscreen, please...both the SPF15 and SPF50."

"Yes, Mistress Doe-tell, right away!"

The house elf popped away, and quickly returned with a tube of muggle sunscreen in each hand.

"Neutrogena?" asked Hermione.

"Can't find a decent magical sunscreen," Helene replied. "It's all or nothing...either the total block, like you took, or go without and use a burn salve afterwards."

"Mistress?" asked Tizzy.

"Fifty on the white parts, fifteen on the rest," the inn owner replied.

"Yes, Mistress," the house elf replied. A moment later, the petite magical being's hands were kneading lotion into the older witch's skin. Hermione watched with a mixture of interest and concern.

There was a lull in conversation, as Helene relaxed in contentment as Tizzy undertook a full body sunscreen application/massage. The silence wasn't broken until the house elf started to scold.

"Why is Mistress been doing Tizzy's garden work, again?" she asked, after noting dirt underneath Helene's fingernails.

"Because gardening isn't work in my eyes, Tizzy...you know that."

"But work isn't work in my eyes too," the house elf replied. "And there be not enough to do."

Helene let out a sigh, and turned towards Hermione. "We have this discussion all the time," she explained.

The younger witch looked down towards her towel as embarrassment built inside her.

"It was hard for me to accept it too, if it makes any difference," said Helene.

"Accept what?"

"Bound house elves," the inn owner replied. "You know, I'd think less of any muggleborn who didn't object at first."

Hermione only sighed.

Helene then asked, "Have you ever heard the phrase about career planning...the one that says find a job that you love, and you'll never work a day for the rest of your life?"

"Erm...I think so."

"Well, the same goes for Tizzy," Helene said with a smile. "Except she loves every job...isn't that right, Tizzy?"

"Yes Mistress," Tizzy replied. "Every job except the job of keeping you from doing my jobs."

Helene's laugh morphed into a surprised "eep!" when Tizzy switched over to the SPF50 and squeezed a dollup of the cool lotion onto her bum.

"Did you do that on purpose?" she asked with a grin.

"Yes, Mistress," Tizzy replied matter-of-factly. "You asked Tizzy to use the fifty on your white bits."

Helene shook her head and flipped over.

"I'll do the rest myself…thanks, Tizzy," she said.

The house elf scowled a bit, but eventually nodded and left the sunscreen on the towel beside her mistress. Once she popped away, Helene sat up and placed some lotion onto her fingers.

"It would be easier just to use one sunscreen," Helene noted, as she rubbed the lotion onto her most sensitive bits of skin. "But there isn't a clothing optional beach on the island, and my husband rather likes the contrast."

Hermione snorted, and changed the subject.

"So your husband helps you run the Inn?"

"Yes, dear," Helene said with a smile. "Every week but this one...he gets to sail off on his own during Coven Camp."

"Oh...so the captain of the boat that brought us here..."

"Yes, that was John, my husband," Helene said with a smile. "Was he doing his best imitation of a foul-mouthed pirate?"

"Erm...yes, it was quite convincing."

Helene laughed, and then asked, "So does Harry fancy your tan lines as much as John fancies mine?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Harry Potter, your boyfriend?" Helene asked quizzically. "Or hasn't he seen them yet?"

Hermione blushed deeply at the thought of Harry inspecting her almost all-over suntan.

"Erm...despite what you might have read in the papers, Harry Potter isn't my boyfriend."

"Oh, I'm so sorry...how embarrassing," Helene stammered. "I had heard otherwise."

"Really? From whom?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," the older witch quickly replied. "Again, my apologies...I should know better than to trust gossiping witches and The Daily Prophet.

"Well, it is an easy mistake, if all you knew of us is what that rag publishes."

Helene nodded as her face turned serious.

"You know, Hermione...the French papers have been far more supportive of both Mr. Potter and Headmaster Dumbledore."

"No, I didn't...has there been much coverage?"

"A fair amount," the older witch replied. "The Third Task was front page news, of course, given the participation of Beauxbaton. And since then, the newspapers have been quick to cover the French Ministry's position on Voldemort's return."

Hermione was startled.

"I'm amazed at how easily you say his name," she stated.

"It is just a name, no?" Helene asked. "I have never believed in this taboo business, and well...it has been a few seconds, and yet there are no uninvited guests in black robes surrounding us?"

Hermione snickered. "It is rather silly," she replied. "I'd say it myself, except that every time I do everyone around me screams and gets all fidgety. Accept for Harry, of course...but even he's tired of the response. So when he's not calling him 'The Dork Lord' he just calls him 'Tom'."

"Tom?" asked Helene.

"Yeah, Tom Riddle...that's his real name."

When the older witch's face turned pale, Hermione asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Are you saying that Voldemort is really Tom Riddle?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, he told that to Harry himself," Hermione replied. "Well, it was the diary that said it, actually, but..."

"I knew a Tom Riddle at Hogwarts," Helene whispered.

Hermione's eyes went wide, and then wider when she recalled her first conversation with the Inn owner.

"Of course," she said softly. "You said that you graduated in 1945...just a year before he did."

"How did you..."

"The trophy case," Hermione replied. "He's listed as Head Boy, and then there's that Special Services Award that he didn't deserve..."

"For the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Oh, yes...you would have been there during that time as well," Hermione replied. "Then you overlapped with Hagrid...did you know that he was innocent, and should have never been expelled?"

"Erm..no I didn't"

"And then when the Chamber reopened they expelled him, and broke his wand, even though he had nothing to do with me being petrified, or the basilisk set free..."

"Basilisk?"

"I guess the real story never got out to the public."

Helene nodded. "I would love to hear that real story."

Hermione took pause, and suddenly realized that she'd been blabbering on rather indiscreetly.

"Well, it's not my story to tell, I was petrified when most of it happened."

"Oh...that's alright," Helene said quickly. "I understand...loose lips sinks ships, and all that."

There was an awkward lull in the conversation, during which time Hermione considered just how well the war slogan applied to their own present day case. They really were in a war, now, and that was a pretty scary thought.

A stray thought flashed across Hermione's mind that broke her suddenly sullen disposition. She reached out and touched the older witch's arm.

"Well," she said with a slight grin. "At least I know that you aren't one of Voldemort's Death Eaters."

"How is that?"

Hermione squeezed Helene's arm and gently twisted it towards her.

"No Dark Mark," she said impishly. "Either on your arm or, as you've quite clearly shown, anywhere else."

The joke broke the tension that had built between them, and they both had a good laugh. Helene then stood and changed the subject.

"Well, I need to make a run into town...is there anything I can get for you while I'm there?"

Hermione sat up, then shook her head. "Can't think of anything right now."

"Maybe for later at Hogwarts, then?" Helene asked. "Won't have much access to a muggle store once you return to the castle."

Hermione nodded, and mentally reviewed her "To Do" list. She didn't need anything, really, unless...

"Harry fancies Mars bars," she stated. "I've got some muggle currency back in my room..."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Helene announced with a wave-off. "Anything else?"

"Well," Hermione replied, thinking of the small risk that she could take. Taking a good look at an Inn owner, she finally said, "This might seem like a strange request, but is there a bookstore or library in town?"

"Yes, both...what could I get for you?"

"I'm interested in learning Morse Code," Hermione replied. "If there's a book on that, or maybe a reference from an encyclopedia..."

The older witch looked carefully at the Fifth-Year for a moment, then nodded. "I'll see what I can do." She then smiled, and transfigured the towel into a muggle sundress. Once she slipped it over her head she said, "Thank you , Hermione...I very much enjoyed our conversation."

"I did too," Hermione replied.

"Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

Hermione snorted. "We'll have to see...I only had this time off because I tested out of meditation."

Helene nodded. "Of course, dear...then I'll see you at dinner tonight."

As the inn owner headed back towards the main building, Hermione thought back over their talk, and noted where there were lingering issues to ponder, such as the plight of house elves, Tom Riddle, and the French newspapers.

Helene Brixton was doing the same thing. She had much to consider, and a mobile telephone call to make.

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Hermione couldn't decide why Cho Chang was smiling as the Ravenclaw prefect buzzed by her perch on the Fort's parapets. It could have simply been the fact that Cho was close to capturing the snitch during a pick-up game of Quidditch. Or, it could have been that she'd just pulled off a perfect Wronski Feint, and sent the other seeker splashing into the notice-me-not protected waters. But Hermione thought it more likely that the witch's cheerful disposition came from the fact that she was playing on the "skins" side of the "robes on skins" game, and riding bare-arsed on her broom. This likely provided not only some pleasurable crotch-on-broom handle friction, but the chance to once again flaunt her perfect nude form in front of the competition for Harry Potter's heart.

Though she didn't play the game, Hermione had seen enough of Harry's matches to know that a seeker didn't restrict their search patterns to the airspace directly in front of the audience. They didn't wiggle their bum for the crowd, or simulate giving the handle a hand-job, or lewdly thrust their hips up and down as they hung in a sloth hold.

An impartial bystander might have thought that Cho was revealing an interest in Hermione, given her focus and the prevalence of lesbian behavior within the Coven. But Hermione knew better...she knew that Cho was a gay-friendly straight, like herself, and she knew that Cho's interests lay in getting laid by The-Boy-Who-Lived. This was alpha-bitch behavior...Cho was showing off her body and marking off her territory. Harry was hers, and a bushy-haired witch with B-cup breasts and a bit of a tummy could not do a damn thing about it.

Unless, of course, the bushy-haired witch had a secret weapon.

Hermione whipped out a vacuum cleaner hose, switched on the power, and sucked Naked!Cho and the other Quidditch-playing Coven members into
the canister.

She would have enjoyed the sensation more if emotions hadn't inhibited the ability of a witch to properly condition her Occlumency shields.

Her thoughts thus cleared, Hermione waited for the next idle thought to pass by.

...She now was back at Hogwarts, holding her how-to-wank book in hand as she tickled her G-spot behind the closed curtains of her dormitory
bed....

An embarrassing memory, for certain...but not one that endangered the Coven, and a memory that a teen-aged witch would be expected to have readily available for prying mental eyes. Hermione had no choice but to release this memory, and let it roam free.

...She is now sunbathing alone, and fully nude for the first time. It's making her adventurous and horny, so she spreads her legs and gives her bits their first clear look at the sun...

The Gryffindor prefect reviewed the memory dispassionately. It had happened two days before, right before Helene had joined her, and all memories of the Fort and Coven Camp needed to be fully protected. But there wasn't anything within the memory that pinned down her location, unless....

Hermione couldn't think of an "unless," but she'd left enough explicit memories out there for Snape and Dumbledore to perv on. The vacuum cleaner came out, and Sunbathing!Hermione got sucked behind shields.

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It had only taken four hours of instruction and fourteen hours of practice for Hermione to develop the kind of impervious "lock-down" shielding that she wrongly assumed was the beginning and end of Occlumency. Her instructor had been most impressed by the nested defenses...a stone-walled island fortress guarded by dragons that a Legimency attack would reach only after spanning a near-infinite ocean. But then she gave Hermione the bad news...that these kind of Occlumency barriers weren't enough to guard the Coven's secrets.

The problem involved managed expectations. Occlumency training wasn't part of the standard Hogwarts curriculum, so it would look highly suspicious if Dumbledore or Snape probed a Fifth-Year student's mind and suddenly ran up against impenetrable walls. Why would a female student occlude her mind, unless she had secrets to hide? Not that there weren't uses for secure, inclusive shields..."lock-down mode," when deployed during a duel or in battle, would keep an opponent from anticipating spell selection. It also served as a last-resort "fail-safe" under a full-scale mental assault. But in a situation where legimency was employed more as a surveillance tool than a weapon, a different set of shields were required.

They were called "stealth shields"...a hidden set of defenses that protected only a small subset of memories. This left almost all of a witch or wizard's mind open to mind probes, so that the casual mental eavesdropper would think that there were no defenses at all. But hidden underneath all of the random stray thoughts and memories that criss-crossed a person's mind was a barrier that didn't look like a barrier.

It was protection through deception.

Vacuum cleaners were often the easiest mental construction for a muggleborn witch's stealth shields, and Hermione had dozens of available memories of this type. So with the instructor's help, she had chosen one specific memory and brought it to life.

It had been earlier that summer, about two weeks after returning from Hogwarts. She had wanted to work on her base tan before hols in France, but her mum had insisted that Hermione do some house cleaning before she used their outdoor pool. As a result, Hermione had spent fifteen minutes pushing the upright vacuum cleaner around the house whilst dressed in her new two-piece bathing costume.

The bikini made it easy for Hermione to distinguish this vacuum cleaner memory from all of the others. The vacuum cleaner (and its various attachments) made it easy for Hermione to visualize the process. Any memory that required safeguarding would be "sucked" into the vacuum cleaner and stored there for safekeeping. The only way to gain access to these memories was to mentally empty out the vacuum cleaner bag. And since anyone raised in the wizarding world wouldn't know how a vacuum cleaner operates, they wouldn't know how to attack the vacuum...or even realize what it did and what it could stand for.

Once her "Hoover shields" were established, Hermione spent several hours mentally sucking up any memories associated with the Coven. Once that bulk job was complete, she needed to test the effectiveness of her stealth shields by monitoring her idle thoughts. And this is why, in the early morning hours of her fourth time-turned day, Hermione was in a deep meditative state, sifting through stray thoughts.

In real life, she sat in a lotus position on the Fort's walls, wearing an unfastened white robe. Mentally, she was dressed in her string bikini, and standing guard with vacuum hose in hand.

...Helene Brixton giving her a chart used to learn Morse Code...hoover.

...Walking into the girl's showers and catching Lavender performing cunnilingus on Parvati...definitely hoovered.

...Her dad's reaction the first time she removed her top at the beach this summer....reluctantly let go.

...Having the Inn's owner approach as she meditated and hoovered up sensitive memories...not just something that needed protection, but something that was happening in real time!

Hermione opened her eyes, turned her head and smiled.

"Good morning, Helene."

"Happy Saturday," the Inn owner replied with a smile. She looked out over the Channel and said, "Don't suppose you can tell me if it rains today?"

"What, and risk paradox?" Hermione said with a smile. "You'll just have to be surprised."

"Ah well, worth a shot... so how's the training going?"

"Well, I think," Hermione replied. "Hope to move on to the Obliviate spell today."

"And the dots and dashing?"

"Dah-dah-dee, dah-dah-dah, dah-dah-dah, dah-dee-dee," Hermione replied brightly.

The Inn owner snorted.

"I'll assume that means something."

"So what's got you up with the sun?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, just some pesky owl that kept at it until I opened the window for him," Helene replied. She glanced over her shoulders, and not seeing anyone, slipped an envelope into Hermione's hand.

"Erm...wow...so soon? You just sent it yesterday!" Hermione asked.

Helene shrugged. "It was only a domestic trip for the owl, no?"

Hermione nodded. "Thanks again for your help...it really means a lot."

"It was nothing, and yet something that friends do for each other, n'est pas?"

Hermione snorted. "Your French is showing."

Helene shook her head, reached out, and closed the front of Hermione's robes.

"And so are your bits, mon cherie," she snarked.

"And this is a problem?"

"Have you had the sunblock potion yet today?"

"Erm...good point," Hermione decided.

"I'll leave you to the correspondence, then," the Inn owner said with a smile. "Don't miss breakfast."

"I'll be there," Hermione replied.

As the older witch walked back towards the main building, Hermione shook her head with wonder. She would have never have thought that she could gain a friend as quickly as she had with Helene...especially a friend who was old enough to be her grandmother. Or her Head of House, for that matter.

That last realization brought a smile to Hermione's lips. Over the past two days she had swapped many different stories with Helene Brixton. She had come to trust the older witch enough to share her experiences at Hogwarts...from First-Year's Halloween troll to that year's bow-headed toad. Helene, in turn, had recounted her years at Hogwarts, telling the younger which everything she could about not only Tom Riddle, but her Gryffindor classmate "Minnie" McGonagall (including the story behind her pubic-perched tabby cat tattoo).

It had gotten so that Hermione was spending more time with the Inn's owner than with any of the other coven members, including the Fifth-Years. This wasn't an intentional slight, mind you...Hannah always seemed to be glued at the hip (and lips, and bits) with her girlfriend, while Padma had been corralled into mandatory study sessions with the other Ravenclaw prefects (who took seriously their house's reputation for academic success). And Pansy...well, she was just as busy, doing things behind closed doors that Hermione could occasionally hear from the hallway, but didn't want to imagine.

Hermione looked down at the letter that Helene had left her. It was both the latest favor, and the biggest favor...an unsanctioned paradox-tempting correspondence with the Headmistress of Beauxbatons.

A quick check over her shoulder told the Fifth-Year that she was alone on the ramparts. Yet she was till a bit nervous, so Hermione hopped off of the wall and slipped into one of the fort's many unused outbuildings and ripped open the letter, which was written in French:

29 August

Dear Madame Brixton,

Thank you for your letter dated today, and your interest in the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, expressed on behalf of your friend. Respecting your request for a timely response, I will provide answers to your questions that may be incomplete (although they are, to the best of my knowledge, accurate).

Yes, it is certainly possible for students to transfer from Hogwarts to Beauxbatons. It is always easier when the student(s) in question are younger, but there have been Fifth-Year students that have successfully made the transition. We prefer that the students make the change at the start of the school year, but recognize that there are special circumstances that would justify mid-year transfers. Please note that while the Hogwarts term begins on the first of September, our classes are already in session.

Regarding the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts, our current professor has been at his post for fifteen years. He is a retired member of the French Auror Corps, and has produced many, many outstanding graduates who have gone on to successful careers both in law enforcement and the dueling circuit. As for the specific subject matter, I have attached a syllabus summary for each year. You will note that practical wand work is considered to be an integral part of the DADA tutelage.

The costs to attend Beauxbatons are comparable to those at Hogwarts. Our boarding fees are slightly higher, but one would expect that given the dreadful quality of the meals served at Hogwarts (on this point I speak from personal experience). Mid-year transfers to Beauxbatons would be charged on a pro-rated basis. I do not, unfortunately, know anything of the refund policies at Hogwarts. Scholarships may be available to students who demonstrate both financial need and strong magical potential.

Individual students who wish to transfer must make a request in writing, using the attached forms. Non-native speakers also need to demonstrate proficiency in the French language prior to their admittance.

Please let me know if you have any other questions or comments.

Sincerely,

Madame Olympe Maxime, Headmistress
Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

After finishing the cover letter, Hermione quickly skimmed through the attachments. The admissions forms appeared fairly straightforward...the only thing that stood out was the need for the signature of a student's parent or magical guardian. She wondered whether Sirius would be able to sign for Harry, should it come to that.

Thinking it best not to be absent for breakfast, Hermione used magic to shrink the correspondence down to the size of a postage stamp. She then hid the documents inside the hem of her robes, and made her way towards the dining room, trying to hide her nervousness.

She hadn't done anything illegal...hadn't even violated the rules of time travel, as it had been Helene who had written the letter, and received the response. Still, it was probably bad form for her to be thinking about transferring to a different school while she was receiving special training as a Hogwarts prefect. And the adage about "loose lips" could well apply...Hermione hoped that it wouldn't be necessary for them to leave Hogwarts and Britain, but she had promised Harry that she'd look into the option, just in case. And she wouldn't put it past certain people to try and block their escape.

In that regard, Hermione stopped short of the main building, and took a moment to hoover the memories of the letter and response to a spot safely behind her mental shields.