The Fabric of Magic

Reading Time: 7 Minutes

Title: The Fabric of Magic
Author: Keira Marcos
Series: The Master of Death
Series Order: 4
Fandom: Harry Potter
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Genre: Fantasy, Alternate Universe
Warnings: Discussion-Suicide, Discussion-Murder, Canon-Typical Violence
Word Count: 1,572
Author’s Note: As it’s been asked, these little shorts are basically character work for myself that I often do when I’m world building something that is new to me structurally. Normally, these short works either end up a work folder for the project or they get deleted. I’m sharing these because I think they’ll make the reading experience richer—consider it tapestry weaving of a sort.
Summary: Everyone in Britain suffers in one way or another for the crimes of Voldemort.

* * * * *

Hermione closed the door to her flat, then slouched down on the bench next to the door to pull off her boots. Before she could get the first unbuckled, her fiancé appeared and took a knee to help with the task.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Neville said. “You look exhausted. What’s going on?”

“Harry Potter.”

Neville looked up as he pulled the boot off and raised an eyebrow. “Was there some kind of incident? Did he get hurt?”

“No, well. I’m sure there has been some stuff, but you know they can’t or won’t report half of what the Protectorate gets up to,” Hermione said and slouched out of her coat. “Dumbledore has finally found someone who has enough power to persuade Harry to come back to Britain.”

“Wow,” Neville muttered. He took off her other boot, tucked them into a drawer under the bench, then stood. He offered her a hand and pulled her close when she stood. “That’s…. I really wish people would leave him alone like he’s clearly always wanted.”

“Most people don’t get it and won’t,” Hermione said. “His peers certainly do—maybe everyone else will never understand how it was to go to school with a brilliant and powerful wizard who had no time for anyone.” She scrunched up her nose. “That sounded unfair. I’m not complaining.”

“I know you aren’t,” Neville said and kissed the top of her head. “Come on, I picked up some food on the way home.”

“How is Augusta?”

“Considering a fifth greenhouse,” Neville said as he led her into the kitchen, where he’d already set out Chinese takeaway.

They could both cook, but neither particularly enjoyed it. She sat down and immediately reached for the beef and broccoli.

“A report was handed down from the Magical Protectorate that Harry wrote,” Hermione said. “They’ve been considering horrifying and drastic measures regarding the magical corruption in Britain.”

“I’m sure,” Neville said. “It’s their job to protect magic first and foremost, Hermione. What’s the current solution?”

“Magical blockade,” she said and frowned. “Purely regarding the flow of magic—not people, unless the person has become a vector for the corruption. So far, we’ve found precious few of those, and it’s happened less since people were discouraged from practicing ritual magic. Opening up our magic in that fashion is very dangerous in Britain right now. It might remain so. I understand why the Protectorate would consider it. But they’ve also….” She huffed and focused on her food.

“Mass execution?”

“Adults only—age range to be determined,” Hermione said grimly. “Clearly they’d seek to cut out the corruption while preserving as much life as possible, but it’s a fucking nightmare, Nev.”

“Yeah,” Neville said. “But their mandate demands a lot from them. If the tainted magic starts to spread outside of Britain, it would endanger the lives of millions. The Death Eaters ruined a lot of things—not just their own lives.”

“You agree with the idea of it?” she asked.

“No, of course not, but I understand how the Protectorate could get there both intellectually and magically. They are oathbound to protect magic, Hermione. Neither of us will ever understand how profound a duty that genuinely is. I’m personally glad for it. I don’t know how I could handle that kind of burden. I also don’t have another solution, to be honest. We certainly can’t allow the corruption to spread.”

“The report called it an enduring stain,” Hermione said. “I’ve never read a more damning and utterly honest document distributed by a governing institution before. I heard Croaker called it weaponized spite, and he’s not wrong about that part either.” She stabbed a piece of beef with her fork. “Do you ever wish we’d found some way to be his friend? To push past the wall that he created around his whole world?”

“Probably no more or less than his housemates,” Neville said. “But in the end, that was how he chose to defend himself, and I can’t fault it. This country did nothing but abuse and misuse the house of Potter, Hermione. They didn’t manage the Riddle issue with any kind of skill or finality, and they put his only living parent in a position that he felt no choice but to sacrifice his life in a ritual circle that still glows to this day.”

The holding cell that Sirius Black had died in had been locked for twenty years, but automatic reports to the ministry regularly confirmed that the ritual circle that he’d drawn was active. It was a magical mystery the likes of which had baffled most researchers all over the world since it was found. Neville’s hand settled on her arm.

“We could leave the country while we still can,” Neville said quietly. “There is a family property in Italy. Gran can pass the physical to travel easily enough. The wards on the estate have protected her, and neither of us has had any problems so far.”

“That doesn’t seem…right,” she admitted. “Magically. I know that probably doesn’t make sense. But I don’t think any of us can run from this, love. Whatever is here, it’s sliding around inside of us just as much as it is the fabric of magic. I’m not saying the corruption would follow us, but it lingers in us in a way, regardless. We’re not free, and we won’t be until Riddle is handled permanently.”

“I can’t disagree,” Neville admitted roughly. “I just wish they’d leave Harry Potter out of it. Hasn’t he lost enough?”

“Dumbledore seems to think practically everyone should sacrifice as much as possible.” She paused. “Well, everyone but him. I noticed he was wearing an alchemy-based ward today. I’m sure he has some explanation about protecting us by staying strong or whatever, but if he can do that for himself, why hasn’t he focused that ingenuity on solving the problem?”

Neville made a face, sighed, then patted his thigh. “How about you come over here?”

She laughed but left her chair in favor of his lap and pulled her plate across the table. He took a deep breath against her hair as they settled and exhaled slowly.

“It’ll be fine.”

“I’m prepared to ritually disown this entire fucking country, Hermione,” Neville said. “I’m not going to let Riddle or Dumbledore ruin us.” He paused. “Would that even work?”

“No clue, but it’s certainly worth doing for the hell of it,” she muttered and stole a piece of chicken from his plate. “And you probably aren’t the first to consider it an option.”

“Hannah Abbott says we’re co-dependent,” Neville said as he stabbed a piece of her broccoli.

“Whatever, she didn’t group up in a house of bastards pretending to be lions,” Hermione said. “Not that any other house at Hogwarts was better. Looking back on it, the whole school was oppressive as fuck.”

“Some people blame Harry for that, you know,” Neville said. “No matter how unfair that is.”

“Unfair and stupid since the school was depressing to be in before he was sorted, and it continued to be after he left. No one wants to admit the truth of it—it’s Dumbledore. I can’t even say he’s genuinely dark, but he’s corrupt, nonetheless.”

“Being around him is just disgusting sometimes.”

“Nearly all the time for me,” Hermione admitted. “It’s like he’s being….” She huffed. “Punished. He’s being punished, and it’s spilling out all around him.”

“Punished for the murders of the Potters?”

“And Sirius Black’s death,” Hermione suggested, and Neville nodded. “It makes sense, right? Everyone knows that the headmaster promised the Potters protection and set their wards. He set the Fidelius, so he knew that Sirius Black wasn’t the Secret Keeper. He told no one until after Peter Pettigrew went crazy and tried to murder the whole Weasley family.”

“Those two youngest kids should’ve been at Hogwarts with us,” Neville said. “I’ve often wondered if they would’ve been our friends or if they would’ve turned out like Percy.”

“Ugh, don’t bring up that prick,” Hermione muttered. “He’s been a genuine son of a bitch since he was promoted in the minister’s office. I don’t know why Madam Bones tolerates that kiss-arse.”

“It’s a favor for Arthur,” Neville said. “He never really recovered the losses, and everyone else at the ministry in his generation basically coddles him. I can’t really blame them, even if I could set Percy on fire. I mean, I won’t because I wouldn’t want to hurt Arthur more, which is what Percy banks on.”

“I think…we should just be resolved to support whatever Harry Potter says in all of this,” Hermione said finally, and Neville nodded. “Dumbledore doesn’t care about anyone or anything as long as his vision of the future happens. That means the rest of us have to have Harry’s back, whether he wants it or not.”

Neville sighed. “Gryffindor to the core.”

“Don’t act like you’re any different,” she said and nudged him with her elbow. “We’ll be fine.”

“Of course.”

“But ritually disowning the shite out of everyone but Augusta is absolutely on the table,” she said, and he laughed, then kissed her neck.

“Of course, love.”

The End