Furthest Star

Mount Shasta was half a world away, but the incredible boom of its explosion echoed across the grounds of Hogwarts. Hermione just so happened to be outside studying by the lake when a sound like a gunshot sent a ripple of fear through her. She knew instinctively it wasn’t a gun, of course, and she looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Several students on the lawn were craning their necks, looking for the source of the noise.

“You hear that?” Ron asked through a mouthful of sandwich. “Think Fred and George are at it again?”

“They’re at the pitch,” Harry shook his head, bright green eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Could’ve been anything, really…”

Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest. “No, it couldn’t have.”

Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she would rather be wrong than unprepared.

She fumbled with her bag, digging out her mirror. She regretted storing so many things inside, and promised herself that she’d reorganize the moment exams were over. She sighed with relief when her fingers closed over the glass.

“Mum?” she called into it, failing to keep the panic from her voice. She held her breath as she waited, one minute, then two. “Mum, can you hear me?”

“Hermione,” a frazzled response came through the glass, followed by her mum’s pale face. She mostly disapproved of Sirius, but she couldn’t thank him enough for gifting her a pair of two-way mirrors last Christmas.

“Did you hear that sound?” Hermione asked, concerned. “Was it coming from your direction?”

“It’s not here, it’s-” her explanation was punctured by the sound of sirens, “-erupted, we’re ev… ship now. Can’t you….us there?”

“Erupted? You mean…” Hermione began, but she put the pieces together before her Mother could even say a thing.

Terror froze her in place. Mount Shasta wasn’t meant to erupt until the following year. She’d been planning on it, had her bags packed at home, ready to go. So why…

“Erupted? Is it Iceland again?” Harry whispered.

“That bloody country is always-” Ron began

She shushed them more aggressively than she intended, but this was an emergency.

“I’ll Floo there right away,” she assured her mum, springing to her feet. She wasn’t sure if the message got through, but she’d be there quickly enough to confirm.

“It’s Mount Shasta,” she cried, tears pricking her eyes. “We have to go. My parents-”

“Quick, Ron, the bags,” Harry ordered, leaping up and drawing his wand. “Don’t worry, Hermione. We’ll get you home.”

They sped toward the castle, hardly noticing the eerie orange-tint horizon looming behind them.

-

Hermione repeated the last words she heard from Dumbledore in her head like a mantra. Only because calm was the hardest thing to be in this situation.

Two weeks had passed since the launch, and 

Avoiding looking out the portholes lining the hallway from her room to the command room helped a bit, she thought. Limiting group meetings, keeping most communication restricted to mass texts and announcements, leaving it up to the prefects to disseminate the news to the other frightened children.

She felt calmer today for the simple fact that Tom Riddle had agreed to sit down with her and sort things out. She was grateful that anyone had even offered, when everyone else had been too occupied wallowing in their own self-pity to contribute much else. 

She wasn’t being fair, she knew that. It had been a tough week for everyone and they were all drained and daunted by their unclear future. But a little help would have been nice. 

“Is the meeting today?” Harry asked as soon as she entered the control room.

“Yes, in half an hour. Do you have the sorted list of the Gryffindors from the prefects?”

“Here. Should be accurate enough to get you started. We can rearrange jobs later, can’t we?”

“Of course, all except yours,” she shot him a look. Harry frowned, dejected. “You’re an elected official now, Harry.”

“I never asked to be elected,” he dropped his voice so the others chattering away by the controls couldn’t hear. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know how to be a leader. I could barely swing Quidditch captain.”

“People look up to you,” she explained, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You were at the center of every fiasco that plagued Hogwarts for the last six years. You led Dumbledore’s Army when that cow Umbridge showed up and tried to water down our education. Then when the basilisk started petrifying students, and you went looking for it… You saved a lot of people, whether you meant to or not. And that’s what we all need. Someone who would put his life on the line for our survival.”

“Thanks for saying that,” he patted her hand comfortingly.

“I meant most of it, but please don’t put your life on the line again. I have no time to get you out of your heroic messes with my new responsibilities. Understood?” she warned

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry saluted with a sheepish smile.

“Thank you. I’ll be back after the meeting.” She patted him on the shoulder and set off down the cold, steel halls.

-

Papers were spread out over the table, organized into neat little packets, when she arrived in the room. 

“I hope you don’t mind the hard copies,” Riddle greeted her without looking up, shuffling packets around. “I don’t mind the tablets but there’s something calming about the smell of parchment.”

Hermione gave him a small smile, and plucked a quill and her own set of parchment from her bag. “I couldn’t agree more.”

She’d woken from the launch surrounded by the items she kept stashed inside the beaded bag she once used scattered this way and that. The magic must have been purged once they broke the atmosphere, but she was thankful she didn’t lose anything, at least.

“I put the Slytherins to work last night, and they created name cards for every student. We found some Blue Tack as well, here,” he handed her the putty. “Will you put these up on the wall there?”

“You’re awfully… productive,” she said, feeling the most inadequate she’d felt since boarding the ship. Why hadn’t she thought this far ahead? She began pressing the tack onto the walls begrudgingly. Riddle followed close behind her, slapping papers onto each to create a makeshift planning board.

“I find giving the others a task distracts them from the devastation of having their magic stripped from them,” he shrugged. “You forget I’m in a house of Purebloods.”

“Yes, it must be tough on them,” she said with more than a little sarcasm.

“They’re completely useless, if I’m being honest, unless it involves reading and writing. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She paused and turned to look at him curiously.

“I know you had planned to concentrate the muggleborns and half-bloods in the technological tasks, and scatter the purebloods according to their capabilities, but… I am worried for them. Not just my own house, but the others as well. I think we need to integrate them into all areas of work here, let them learn.”

“While I see your point, the situation is a bit dire at the moment,” she protested. “We’re better off getting those who can learn quickly into the essential departments, and have people who are less… skilled do the general duties. At least until we’re in the clear. And besides, once they take the placement test through EdSys, they’ll likely be deemed unqualified for, well, anything.”

Tom huffed a laugh. His smile was too sad for it to be mocking, but she could read into it well enough. He didn’t agree with her. Luckily, she had anticipated this, working with a Slytherin. She had six years of experience with them, after all, and though their brand of manipulation was different from person to person, it was inevitable. But she’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, for the sake of peace on the ship.

He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall, looking very much like a model from an advert for form-fitting space suits. 

Somehow, they only looked good on him.

“In the spirit of house unity, let me tell you a little anecdote about my experience as a first year,” he began, looking off across the room, as if reminiscing over a simpler time. “I came in straight from the foster system. I didn’t even know magic existed until they came to bring me to Hogwarts. So imagine when a boy with a muggle last name and no connections in the wizarding world is sorted into a house composed completely of Purebloods.

“I was made to feel lesser, beneath them. Even when I excelled at every subject, well beyond any pureblood from any house, I was excluded from their little club. And it made me angry, Granger.”

His eyes met hers then, glittering with rage, and she could almost imagine how he’d felt in that moment. She shuddered and averted her eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever like to be on the receiving end of that fury.

“Now, luckily, I had so much to learn. Books to throw myself into, spells to master, professors to impress. I channeled that anger into bettering myself. This way, half-blood or no, they would have to respect me, even if they didn’t like me.”

Hermione felt a pang in her chest. Not only for him, but for herself. It had been hard enough for her, proving herself as a muggleborn, and being criticized for just that her first year. She was so fortunate to have been sorted into Gryffindor, where she was welcomed and cared for. Tom, on the other hand, had been alone.

“Now, the point of my story is not so you’ll pity me,” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she flushed guiltily. “It’s so you can consider how the purebloods might feel right now. Yes, they’re frightened, and confused. But they’re also being told every day how little they can do. How pointless their existence is here. How worthless they are without magic.”

Riddle straightened up and turned back to the wall to resume his posting. She quickly followed suit, peering at him sideways as he continued.

“Now take that group of proud, sheltered teenagers, and put them in laundry, or inventory, anywhere that doesn’t challenge them or distract them from their unfortunate situation. Any job that might draw the ridicule of those who they once viewed — still view — as inferior. They’ll be bitter, resentful, vengeful… And where do you think they’ll channel that anger?”

“Mutiny,” she answered at once. Riddle flashed her a pleased smile, and her cheeks heated yet again.

“Precisely.” He placed the last square of parchment and turned to face her completely. “And we don’t want that, do we?”

“God, no,” she laughed nervously. She hated to admit it, but he was right. So horribly right. She hadn’t even considered that they would feel belittled by all of this. She tried to summon some sympathy for them, but it fizzled out before it materialized. After what she’d suffered by their hand the past six years, it took all she had in her to even dim the petty satisfaction it brought her. But in the current chaos of this uncertain future, the last thing she wanted was an all-out blood-war… in space. Under her leadership.

“Then you see why I’m so adamant that we assimilate the purebloods into every aspect of this new society,” he stated. “Purebloods with a purpose are much more docile than those harboring a grudge.”

“Docile?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“What I mean is, you can leave the Slytherins to me,” Tom smiled reassuringly, “and the rest of the Purebloods will fall into line.”

Although it was meant to be comforting, a strange sense of foreboding settled over Hermione. Whether it was the thought of Purebloods “falling into line” with the Slytherins, or the thought of them not doing so, she wasn’t sure.

Tom raised a hand and pointed to his neatly lined parchment pieces. She followed the path of his finger to the organizational chart he’d set up. It was as if he’d plucked it from her own head magicked it onto the wall.

The box on the very top was titled “Command” and listed hers and Harry’s names. It branched off into the other tracks determined by EdSys, the computer system designed to train passengers in their chosen careers through prerecorded classes. Social architects, maintenance, medical, agriculture, and so on… each one assigned two prefects to lead, and teams of students organized into perfectly blended groups based on house, blood status, and gender. She’d been expecting to have to do it all herself, but here it was, ready to go.

“You did all this in two days?” she gasped.

“Like I said, I had some help,” he shrugged. “But I thought it would be a good foundation, and we can adjust it after the placement tests.”

“Well done,” she turned to look at him in awe, and his self-satisfied grin lit up his face. “I have the list of Gryffindor suggestions here, but you somehow already have them just where they need to be. How did you do that?”

“Magic,” he quipped, and she laughed for the first time since the ship had launched.

“Well, I do appreciate it. This saves us all so much time. Speaking of time, I have the testing and training schedule for the next year drafted, if you wouldn’t mind looking over it?” She plucked a stack of parchment from her bag and held it out to him.

“I’d love to.” He took it from her with another of his easy smiles, and Hermione felt the blooming warmth of relief in her chest.

Finally, someone she could rely on.