Furthest Star

The stars looked different from up here. More menacing than dazzling. The once-calming glittering black of the night sky opened up before her like the jaws of a faceless monster, eager to swallow the Edinburgh whole, and all of them with it…

“Hermione,” a gentle voice ripped her from the claws of her existential crisis, and Hermione whirled around, away from the vast window of the spaceship’s control room. She placed a hand to her pounding heart, willing it to slow.

“Yes, Luna? What is it?” Hermione forced a smile, but she wasn’t sure why she bothered. She knew Luna had always been able to see through her courageous facade. For a Gryffindor, she really was quite the coward.

“The prefects are meeting in ten minutes, I was asked to come bring you down.” Luna offered her a hand, and a comforting smile to accompany it. Hermione took it gratefully, offering a quick squeeze before following Luna toward the door. She called over her shoulder to the team running the helm.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t run us into any black holes while I’m gone.” As if the entirety of space wasn’t already a black hole they were barreling into, without a damn clue.

“Aye, aye,” Fred and George saluted her simultaneously.

“Don’t worry, Hermione, I’ll keep these two in line until Ginny and Dean come in for the next shift,” Angelina reassured her, squeezing Fred’s shoulder in warning.

“This is what you get for putting Weasleys in charge of a spaceship,” Lavender rolled her eyes, flipping through the magazine on her lap, clearly still bitter about her spat with Ron the day before. The twins only snickered.

Hermione waved dismissively and the doors whizzed shut behind her. She had enough to worry about, and despite Fred and George’s penchant for fooling around, she knew they were the best pilots on that ship. They might not even have boarded if Ginny hadn’t rushed to Hogsmeade to collect them before apparating to the launch site. 

The rest of the family hadn’t made it.

She pulled out her tablet and flipped through her meeting notes. It had been a week since Mount Shasta had exploded, releasing an unstoppable cloud of methane gas into Earth’s atmosphere. It would only be one more week until the earth was completely, irreversibly uninhabitable. Although communication between Edinburgh and Earth had been completely lost since the eruption, Hermione imagined that of the 150-odd ships built, at least 70% were out there with them, on their endless journey to some distant planet they wouldn’t reach for another seven generations.

The spaceship had been built and based only ten miles from Hogwarts, and so the only ones who had managed to evacuate to the ship in time had been her schoolmates, broomsticks giving them the advantage over the muggles. None of them had reached the ship in time, before it had launched prematurely. Those aboard Edinburgh had been lucky. She wondered if her parents had boarded their own, or if she’d ever see them again.

She couldn’t worry about her parents now, though. She had nearly a thousand terrified witches and wizards on board to worry about, of which a large majority had never even heard of a spaceship their entire lives.

“Hello, Hermione,” Cho Chang patted Hermione’s shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts.

“Oh, yes,” she responded, waving to the empty seats before her. “Hi, Cho, Anthony. Please, take a seat.”

The others filed in behind them, filling the room with a nervous energy poorly masked by fake smiles and empty greetings. Hermione was almost relieved when the Slytherins finally showed up at the last possible moment with their solemn scowls. It was the only authenticity she’d seen among the prefects since the ship had taken off.

“Well, what is it this time?” Malfoy snapped, throwing himself into his chair. It rolled over Pansy’s foot. She hissed in pain, smacking him on the shoulder. Not many rolling office chairs in the wizarding world, it seemed.

Hermione cleared her throat and stood up, ignoring Malfoy and addressing the group as a whole. “Thank you all for coming on time today. If you open your tablets, I’ve sent you an outline of today’s meeting, as well as a PowerPoint detailing our next moves-”

“What’s a powerpoint? I thought we didn't have any powers?” Theo whispered, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What are we, Muggles?” Pansy sneered. “There’s a board right there. Write it out the proper way, won’t you?”

“Yes, Pansy,” Hermione snapped the cover shut on her tablet and set it gently on the table. “You’re as good as muggles now. Worse off, even, if I’m being honest.”

“How dare-” Malfoy began, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He stiffened and snapped his mouth shut.

“She’s right,” Tom Riddle, the seventh-year Slytherin prefect declared. “There is no magic here. We’ve all tried it. If you don’t have a better idea, perhaps you’d better stay quiet and listen.”

“Yeah, now shut up and open your bloody tub-lit, Malfoy,” Ron chimed in, puffing out his chest as if he, too, hadn’t had a lifetime of magical education rendered completely useless the moment the spaceship broke through Earth’s atmosphere.

It was something Hermione had always wondered, really. If magic was so powerful, could it make space travel possible? Had any wizard been to space? There was an entire area dedicated to it in the Department of Mysteries, but had they made any headway? If only the experts had made it to the ship in time… Hermione wouldn’t be leading this group of reluctant teenage witches and wizards into a vague, bleak future with no idea what she was doing herself.

“I understand that this is frightening for all of you,” she attempted to console the tittering group, leaning toward each other and fumbling with the unfamiliar technology. “But we have no choice. Whatever mattered to you on Earth, at Hogwarts, it means nothing anymore. All that matters is that we band together and survive. I’m not sure how many people are out here with us, in the same predicament, but we may well be all that’s left of wizardkind.”

“Are we really witches without magic, though?” Padma Patil blurted, voice edged with panic. The rest followed suit, muttering to each other with renewed fervor.

“We’re nothing without magic, nothing!” another girl cried shrilly.

“Why didn’t I take that Muggle Studies N.E.W.T. class?” lamented Terry Boot.

“Please everyone, stop it,” Hermione cried, clapping her hands together to draw attention, wishing she could cast a Sonorus. “This isn’t the time for philosophy. We need to survive first, or it won’t matter what kind we are. We’ll be nothing but extinct.”

That silenced the room. She felt the weight of nearly three dozen eyes on her, waiting for her brilliant plan to save their race. She hoped her presentation would be enough. It was 134 slides, after all.

“Open your tablets, and let’s go through the process, one by one,” she instructed, lowering her voice to as soothing a tone as she could. “It will take us time, and a lot of effort, but we can do it. Together.”

-

Manning a spaceship with a crew of clueless teenagers would be hard enough even without the fact that most of these teenagers had been living in the technological dark ages for the last decade. Had Hermione known their ship would leave Earth without a solid crew of professional muggles equipped to train them, or even that magic did not work beyond the bounds of Earth, she never would have led them to the ship. Perhaps they wouldn’t have perished if they’d remained. They could have found some magical way to stop the impending crisis. If the Department of Mysteries already had a plan, then… well, no use crying over spilled milk now. Hermione would simply have to rely on the prefects to organize their houses into smaller groups according to their non-magical talents and interests, if any. Anyone left over would be placed where needed, and trained rigorously through the content the tablets provided.

Hermione had asked for a list of muggleborn and half-blood students, figuring pre-sorting them into groups and pairs would save time they didn’t have. There were diagnostics to run, engine checks to do, seeds to plant so they would have food before rations ran out… So many factors to consider, yet so few qualified to manage the tasks. She clicked and dragged Neville’s name into the Agriculture column, hesitating before adding Theodore Nott and Hannah Abbott along with him. Herbology was relatively the same with or without magic, right?

Having spent years creating schedules and study plans for Ron and Harry, she’d thought she was well qualified to take on the task of assigning jobs to students herself. But now she was beginning to realize that she simply didn’t know the students of the other houses and their strengths the same way she did her own. Imagine if she assigned someone with a black thumb to agriculture? She would never live it down. She felt panic rise as a lump in her throat, but she pushed it back down again. She had to keep it together, for everyone’s sake.

 She pulled out her tablet and considered the names to fill the positions of Social Architects, those assigned to determine life, work, and education on the ship. Cedric Diggory was the Hufflepuff seventh-year prefect, but a pureblood. Susan Bones, however, was a half-blood, so that might be a better choice. She sent a message to meet the next morning, along with Anthony Goldstein, another half-blood from Ravenclaw. He was mature for his age and had a good head on his shoulders, as far as she knew.

She’d worried that Slytherin would be a challenge. She knew the dungeon-dwelling snobs of Slytherin wouldn’t take kindly to being paired off with those from other houses. It was by some incredible stroke of luck that the one Slytherin who happened to be their resident half-blood was also their Prefect, and Head Boy.

Tom Riddle.

If she were being honest, she didn’t know much about Tom Riddle. He was a year ahead of her, and their interactions had been limited to Prefect activities and polite greetings in the hallways. She only knew that he was brilliant, if his marks were any indication, and that the Slytherins treated him with more reverence than Professor Slughorn, their own head of house.

Judging by the way he’d shut down Malfoy earlier, he seemed to be reasonable as well. She hoped to enlist his help in taming the panicked purebloods, who were entirely out of their element. She wanted to feel sorry for them, thrown into a world they were unfamiliar with and separated from their families, but she couldn’t help the sense of smug satisfaction that they were relying on a “Mudblood” like her to lead them. 

It was the perfect retribution for the years of torment she’d suffered. She could allow herself a few days to gloat about it, considering the circumstances.

She sent an invitation to Riddle as well and turned back to her computer screens, clicking furiously, dragging this and that student into pairs and groups according to what she already knew about them, if anything. Best to get a head start.

“Up late again?” Hermione jumped out of her skin when an unexpected voice pierced the silence.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, Harry,” she gasped, hand pressed to her chest to calm her heart for the second time that day.

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack from overexertion, anyway,” he chided, sitting beside her on the sofa. “What’s a few hours sooner?”

“Imagine if that happened. You’d have to run the whole ship yourself,” she teased, which proved to be more sobering than anything. Harry snatched the tablet from her hand.

“You know we’d be dead in days if that happened.” He was only half-joking, and they both knew it.

“Aren’t you already on your ninth life now? It’s about time.”

“I’d take a Basilisk over a mob of magic-deprived wizards any day,” he shuddered. Hermione laughed despite herself, and Harry patted her on the shoulder comfortingly. 

“I know I’m not much help with your organizing and planning, and Ron and I are sorry for that. Katie and Ginny are doing their best, but they’re burned out, and I know you are, too. Don’t try and carry the burden all on your own.”

Hermione sighed. “I know, but I can’t help it. We need to get a move on, get things sorted quickly. We all need stability before we can make a life here, and I won’t be able to sleep until we have that either way.”

Harry looked at her a long moment, gaze laden with pity. A strange look for someone who was just as pitiful and helpless as she was at the moment.

“Fine, have it your way. But once things settle down, you’re taking a week off, and that’s an order.”

“Yes, Captain,” she chuckled, nudging him with her elbow. He’d been voted captain unanimously by the population (if you exclude the Slytherin vote) and she couldn’t think of anyone better to be the face of the 

—

“I’m sorry to say this, Granger, but the assignment groups are heavily biased and, frankly, inefficient,” Riddle criticized the moment the meeting began. While Hermione admitted that she didn’t know much about the students before assigning them, the indignance that wriggled in her chest like a flobberworm was very difficult to push down.

“As per my email,” she explained through gritted teeth, fighting to maintain a polite smile, “I simply pre-sorted them based on blood status to create an even distribution. Your job is to help rearrange them into groups that are more in line with their strengths.”

“Really? Blood status?” Riddle murmured, flicking his stylus to remove Slytherins from multiple groups. Hermione ignored him and turned to the others, who were nodding at their screens.

“I think the Hufflepuffs are well-placed, for the most part,” Susan praised with a relieved smile, likely glad she didn’t have much work to do. “I’ll just move Owen to supply management– he’s quite good with Arithmancy – and shift Grim to engine mechanics. He’s a pureblood, but he has a strange fascination with cars…”

“I noticed the Ravenclaws are concentrated in software. Have you considered that Theo might be better suited for that than agriculture?” Riddle asked without looking up from his tablet.

“Has Theo even touched an electronic device before this week?” Hermione asked, genuinely surprised. Why would someone place a Slytherin in tech? It would be like hiring an 80-year-old man to code an AI program.

“He could learn,” Riddle insisted, finally meeting her gaze. She noticed for the first time how dark and intense his eyes were, freezing her where she sat. She shivered but found she couldn’t look away.

“Well, let me have a think on these. Do you mind if I hold a meeting with my house and ask for their opinions?” Anthony piped in, looking uneasily between Hermione and Riddle.

“Of course, just see to it that there is someone in each group who has some muggle experience,” Hermione ripped her eyes from Riddle’s, grateful for the excuse to do so. “You three are the Social Architects, so I’ll leave the rest of it up to you. I’ve already sent you your responsibilities.”

“Oh, Social Architect sounds so important,” Susan giggled nervously. “What are you, then, Hermione?”

“I suppose I’m Chief of Personnel,” she shrugged, twisting a curl around her finger. It felt presumptuous to say the title, but truly, she was the only one who’d read up enough on the initiative to really manage the ship.

“No one better for the job,” Anthony beamed, standing up. “I’ll have these back to you by tonight, along with some questions and notes about the rest of the duties, if you don’t mind?”

Hermione relaxed, relieved by their cooperation. “Anything you need. Thank you both.”

She turned to Riddle the moment they left, smiling tightly. Her first in-depth interaction with him, and it was already not going well. She shouldn’t have expected much more from a Slytherin. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

“Not exactly,” he replied slowly, fingers still dancing over the screen. “I only want to get this finished and submitted before I announce the decisions to them.”

“Aren’t you going to discuss it with them?” she asked, confused.

“They trust me to make these choices on their behalf,” he stated. He glanced up at her, and his eyes didn’t look quite as cold as they had earlier. “Thank you for putting this together, by the way. The sorting was atrocious but the process is well-organized.”

Hermione flushed at his unexpected compliment, choosing to ignore his opinion of her sorting. She’d been bracing herself for harsher words than that, considering his attitude earlier, but now she was convinced he was acting more discerning than critical. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad for a Slytherin.

“I followed the guidelines in the manual, though there were only about 340 pages on social programming,” she began tentatively, gauging Riddle’s reaction. He nodded, his frown of concentration tilting up to become an encouraging smile. Harry and Ron’s eyes had glazed over at the same words, but Riddle seemed… genuinely interested. She sat back in her chair, swiping the screen of her tablet.

“I thought we needed to tweak it, considering our circumstances. The career paths are meant to be led by trained experts, but none of them made it before the ship took off. Now all we have is a skeleton crew of children, many of whom, well… I don’t think I need to explain that to you.”

She flipped her tablet around to show him, and he leaned forward onto the table, resting his chin on his entwined hands. She’d never taken the time to look at him closely before. He was almost like a statue. Calm, cool, collected, chiseled. She cleared her throat and drew her focus back to the conversation.

“I was up late last night drawing this up,” she pushed the tablet in his direction.

“A schedule?” he raised an eyebrow. “It’s rather… expedited, isn’t it?”

“Our N.E.W.T.s aren’t at stake now,” she said seriously. “Our lives are.”

He seemed to consider her words for a moment before straightening up in his chair. “And you’re going to continue doing this all by yourself?”

She was taken aback by the question. She hadn’t really thought about it before, only because it had been such a given. Someone had to take the lead, someone who knew about the program enough to take it on.

“Well, no one else really had the knowledge, or wanted the responsibility,” she admitted, uncomfortable opening up to someone she barely knew.

“I can help you, you know,” Riddle offered, surprising her yet again.

“You… can?” she repeated, eyes wide.

“This is just between us, but… I grew up with Muggles,” he confessed, lowering his voice despite being in a closed meeting room. “And didn’t make Head Boy without good reason.”

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears, against her will. She’d normally be embarrassed by it, but the relief was so overwhelming. She suddenly reached out and clasped her hands over his hands without even realizing she’d moved.

“Your help would be so welcome. Thank you,” she gushed, hoping beyond hope that he was as meticulous as he seemed. She loved Ginny with all her heart, but if she had to fix another typo…

Riddle smiled warmly and squeezed her hands back. “No need to thank me. Like you said, it’s our survival on the line. Now, send me a copy of that manual and I’ll get caught up.”

She pulled her tablet back toward her and began tapping away, quickly wiping away a single tear that had escaped. “Perfect. If you have any fixes or adjustments to streamline the process, message me any time.”

“Let’s reconvene Wednesday morning, shall we?” he suggested, standing smoothly from his chair.

“See you then,” she agreed, suddenly feeling the weight of all the last week’s all-nighters settle over her.

Somehow, as she watched him leave, she thought she might actually get some sleep.

—

The absolute sweetest, most beautiful cover art by Miyoshikurumi. Thank you and this is PERFECT!!!!