Walkin' After Midnight (Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Life of Crime)

Chapter One: Fast Train

"Girl, you can't even think of calling this shit a war."

"Why not?"

"Wars end."

~The Wire, 1.01 "The Target"

I.

Hermione Granger graduated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after what felt like seven long years, seven, long hard friendless years, aside from the odd one-time fling with outsiders like Viktor Krum, who she had met in the library, and the oddity that was Luna Lovegood. She had passed by much in relative obscurity even though she managed to set the record for the highest marks on any written assignment since the Great Headmaster himself Albus Dumbledore, chiefly because of one person, Harry Potter. Or rather it was the distinct lack of Harry Potter that kept causing a massive conundrum at Hogwarts year after year, as each student expected him to show up one year later, and eventually, even Hermione lost faith that the Boy Who Lived would ever show up at Hogwarts at all, her hero-worship of authority figures mostly shattered by the idealistic dream of a boy who she had never met. A boy who had supposedly saved the world back when he was a baby, and a boy who the wizarding world had never heard from again.

"Please state your name and intention," the female voice of the operator of the lift that took Hermione Granger into the depth of the Ministry of Magic informed her. There was nobody else in the lift with her, or at least not yet, which made things a lot easier than it would have been otherwise.

"Hermione Granger, Protest," said Hermione, sighing.

"Welcome to The Ministry of Magic, Hermione Granger," said the female voice, and a badge slid out of the compartment. Hermione Granger, Activist, it read, and she realised she should have put down the name of her actual job title. "What floor would you like to proceed to, Miss Granger?"

"Level One," said Hermione. "I would like to talk with Amelia Bones."

"Level One it is," the announcer concluded, and the lift descended. Hermione eventually pushed her way out of the lift, avoiding the onrushing onslaught of people that included the likes of Ronald Weasley's father, who shot a quick look at Hermione's badge out of curiosity, raised an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't know we had activists working for us now…. What was it again, sorry?"

"Oh, no I'm not an activist," said Hermione, sighing at her poor choice of name-tag. "I've been assigned to the Major Investigations Office, but there must be some mistake, I applied for the Department and Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures which was initially accepted, I even did the interview…"

"Well, if you were in the Major Investigation Office, that's where you're meant to be," said Mr. Weasley. "I wish I could be of more help to you but the fact of the matter is that as long as I have worked here The Ministry has never made mistakes when it comes to matters like this. Oh, we may disagree from time to time, but it has never made a mistake. If you were assigned to the Major Investigations Office you are meant to be a member of the Major Investigations Office, and in which case, I must wish you good luck and good day to you! I need to introduce my son to his new job, if you'll excuse me…"

'Rude,' Hermione thought. She worked her way through the crowd, and eventually came across a door marked Amelia Bones. But the door itself was closed rather than open, and Bones' office had been largely empty. In Bones' place stood a man whose name she didn't know, but would later find out that he went by the name of Rufus Scrimgeour. "Activist?" the man's first word to her echoed that of Weasley's. "You know we don't have a job for any of those."

"It was by mistake," insisted Hermione, wondering how many more people would presume that her sole purpose was employment by the Ministry. "I was rather annoyed at your machine."

"What did the Ministry's machine ever do to you?" Scrimgeour said, and Hermione realised that she'd said those words too quickly to avoid directly insulting this man's organization right in front of him. She also noticed that Scrimgeour also boasted a stack of boxes in his hand, full of personal items, and began to put the picture together. "Never mind. I trust you are here for something, correct?"

"That would be correct, Sir," said Hermione. "I was wondering, is this office still Amelia Bones' office?"

"No it isn't, I'm afraid," said Scrimgeour. "You picked an interesting time to join the Ministry, girl. It's an election year. Whilst the election's underway…"

"No candidate running against the Minister is allowed to use the Ministry as a campaign headquarters, per the new law," said Hermione, putting the pieces together. "Does that mean… Merlin's Beard. Madame Bones is actually going to run against Fudge."

"It would appear so," said Scrimgeour. "As a result, I have been assigned to fill her role during her time away, and if she fails, well then this will likely become my new permanent position. Fudge doesn't like people who try to undermine his power. Bones is no newcomer to politics too, this election could get messy indeed if both sides go out fighting."

"So I suppose I should speak to you directly if I had come to address any matters concerning my employment?" Hermione said, hopefully.

"What, want to quit already? You haven't even been here a day yet."

"No, sir, I don't want to resign just yet," said Hermione. "I came here to bring up an error in my application form. It says I was assigned to the Major Investigations Office rather than the Department and Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which I initially put my name down for and was interviewed under the assumption that I would be getting that job."

"Interesting," said Scrimgeour, taking the sheet of paper that Hermione had pulled out of her pockets, inspecting it. "I trust you are aware of how skilled and proficient the Ministry of Magic is at matters such of these. It is a very grave accusation indeed that you are making against the Ministry, I'm afraid, Miss…"

"Granger, sir," said Hermione, looking dejected. "So, am I to assume that it's a no?"

"You shouldn't automatically jump to conclusions," said Scrimgeour. "Far more people these days want to join the Magical Creatures Regulation Team because they hope that they might see a Dragon, or experience a Veela Coven for the first time on active duty. Very few join because they want to make a difference. The same can be said for the Major Investigations Unit. Very few join because they want to do the actual street-work that Aurors need to crack the higher profile cases. You however, seem to be a peculiar case indeed."

"You've read my file, sir?"

"I know you started a House-Elf Rights group at Hogwarts," Scrimgeour said, pausing slightly, as if trying to remember something, "SEW, was it?"

"SPEW," said Hermione.

"SPEW," said Scrimgeour, annoyed at being corrected. "A bold idea, employed with the tactics that would make you a perfect fit for both organizations. You have the knowledge for the deskwork of both, and the field experience for the latter. But you must understand you cannot walk into the Ministry, or even Hogwarts, with a wand and a way with words and hope to convince people to abandon something as complicated tradition when the beings who you're trying to free don't want to abandon it themselves."

"It's slavery, sir. Not tradition. There's a difference."

"Here's what I'll do," said Scrimgeour. "I received a request for you to be put in the MCU by Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. He recognises your potential."

Hermione almost let out an awed breath at this comment. Shacklebolt was the legendary Auror responsible for getting Aurors to sign up for the Auror taskforce in the first place. They joined up because they wanted to be the next Shacklebolt. Few knew however what had happened to him, and fewer still believed that he was even working with the Ministry anymore. Despite his frequent activities in the years following the War, recent years had seen a sharp decline on his on-street activities. Curiosity alone was why Hermione wasn't going full on rage-mode, or Full Hermione, as Ginny Weasley used to taunt her when she got deeply passionate about a subject that she was invested in. "Mr. Shacklebolt, sir?"

"Yes," said Scrimgeour. "Now, here's what I'll do. I'll give you a case to solve in the taskforce. Nothing too complex but nothing too simple either. Test your waters, see if you like it or not. If it feels your kind of thing… Then you can maybe stick around a bit longer. However, if you don't like it, or want to move anyway, then report back to me and we'll see what we can do. Don't let Kingsley down, Granger. He used a lot of leverage to get you here."

"If you think it will benefit me…" said Hermione, with a reluctant sigh. "Where can I find Major Investigations?"

"Courtroom Ten," said Scrimgeour. "Level Ten."

"Courtroom Ten, Sir? According to Hogwarts a History, it hasn't been used since War Trials. Is there any particular reason why it' being used today? I thought it had been decomissioned."

"Let's just say you'll find out," said Scrimgeour. "I'll allow Kingsley to handle that area of the talk. Go. He's waiting for you."

"Yes sir," said Hermione, respectfully bowing. "One more thing, Sir? Should I change the badge? It doesn't look as though I'm going to be partaking in any social activism anytime soon."

"Actually, keep it," said Scrimgeour, glancing up at her as she left the room. "Merlin knows, the Ministry could use a few more activists around here. For all of our sakes, let's hope that you're as good as your reports say you are…"

Hermione did not stay around long enough to hear Scrimgeour conversation with his assistant, a man named Percy Weasley. If she had, she would have not only remarked that those Weasleys were getting everywhere, but she also would have been rather offended by Weasley's comment to Scrimgeour in return that went along the lines of; "Do you think she bought her speech, sir?"

"It appears so," Scrimgeour said. "Merlin knows Kingsley needs more help down there, and his name is a big draw. But if she finds out that she's still expected to show up at the Magical Creatures Relations Team for an interview in the next few days, there'll be hell to pay. Can you get a favour from them? I don't know, give them Flint or something to keep them satisfied. They've been wanting him for a while, apparently he's good with animals."

"Yes sir," said Percy, taking few notes.

"And for Merlin's sake, get rid of any official documentation about this. Last thing we need right now is another scandal, this close to election year. And did you bug Bones' new offices successfully?"

"I think so, sir. We'll be able to hear everything she says momentarily."

"Good. Remember, this is strictly off the books. Nothing goes in or out of this room."

"Yes sir."

II.

By the time the lift reached level ten, Hermione Granger was the last person on it. Several people had got on and got off along the way, she was pretty sure she recognised a few old classmates, but none stopped to speak to her, all far too busy minding their own business. She wished for a book to read on the wait down, something portable and easily switched on and off would have worked, something that could have carried multiple books in one place without her dragging multiple around in a bag would have been a nice addition, but at the moment she had just paid out enough money for a small flat in North London, not too far from Highbury Stadium, and as a result, didn't have enough money to spend on other things right now. She worked part time as a receptionist at her parents' dentists for a year to finance some muggle tuition in case the magical world didn't work out for her, and as a result, she now was closing in on qualifications both in the magical and muggle world.

Not that it mattered to either side that she had both, unless she was lucky to get a job at either a muggle-friendly wizarding company or a magical-friendly muggle company, which were few and far between. So, she was stuck at the Ministry of Magic, in their Major Investigations Department. Hopefully for Hermione's wellbeing, they wouldn't still be tackling cases as serious as they had been in the past. However, she was quickly proved wrong as soon as she entered the courtroom, which had been transformed almost completely into something that looked straight out of Law and Order. There were several desks arranged in the courtroom, with the room having been enlarged. The chair itself where prisoners were held during trials was still there, creating a physical and intimidating presence.

There were three other people in the room, Hermione noted, and two of them were currently observing a wall of potential suspects in a currently ongoing case, which had moving, small portraits of them. "Well if we take a look at it this way," one of them was saying, a white man in his late thirties, overweight, and looking like how a muggle would expect a standard, satirical portrayal of an American police detective to look, complete with doughnut in hand. "There's three men, as far as we can tell, who work Knockturn. For the purposes of this exercise we'll call them Queen, Jack and Ace. Ace works outside. Jack works inside and rotates with Queen. Whenever any ministry official comes anywhere near them, they vanish, and if there was ever any crime in Knockturn happening at the time, it stops like someone snapped the fingers. Crime is listed at zero per cent in Knockturn in the Ministry records because of this… but I think we both know that the opposite is true."

"They're playing by new rules," said the other, a woman. "It's hard to tell what they'll do next. It's like whoever this guy is, this Man in Black… he's changed them completely. How they work. What they do. He's done what the last five Ministers never could."

"You almost sound as though you admire him," said Hermione, glancing up at the dark-skinned woman from behind her. She turned around, and Hermione recognised who it was almost immediately, a former Slytherin student named Daphne Greengrass. "Greengrass."

"You say that as though you didn't recognise me from behind," Greengrass said. "I know that voice anywhere, Granger. What are you doing down here?"

"You haven't heard?" the man addressed Greengrass, who had transferred in the Summer before Hermione had, by the looks of things. "She's the new recruit. Word on the street is, Shack asked for her to be transferred here…"

"Well, Merlin Knows we need more people down here," said Daphne. Hermione observed her, the way she moved, the way she walked, realizing that beyond her structure, she didn't actually know that much about the Slytherin student during her time at Hogwarts. She hadn't quite been one that had brought into the Death Eater propaganda but at the same time she wouldn't speak out against one of her own either, keeping a low-profile throughout the year, always under the radar, to the left of the painting, just out of sight. She had a cigarette in her mouth, something which felt odd to Hermione, she'd met a few people from magical backgrounds who smoked cigarettes, especially muggle ones. And what made things more interesting was that for the first time she properly paid attention to the music playing in the background, and whilst she was not overly familiar with the artist, the lyrics betrayed its origin of New York Dolls' Stranded in the Jungle. "Not what you were expecting, huh, Granger? Activist, right? They run out of letters or something for Major Investigations?"

"If I had a galleon for every time someone's brought up my badge today," Hermione said, with a sigh. "So… is there anything that I need to be aware of before I start? I didn't bring my bags with me because I wanted to work out what I was working with first."

"Well, you don't have your own private office, so you can forget about bringing in your own copies of Witch Weekly," said Daphne. "My desk's over there, Shack is the only one who gets his own office, if you'd call it that, up there where the chairs used to be, and we've got another new recruit coming in who's going to take point opposite you. That desk there belongs to Auror Tonks, but she's taking maternity leave, so we're going to have to be without her for a while. And that desk there belongs to this man, John Dawlish. Say hi, John. That Doughnut's still going to be there when you finish your sentence."

"Um, yeah, right," Dawlish babbled. "Hi, Granger, right? Good to meet you. I handed Shack the file with your name in it when we met, by the way. Without me, you might not have got the job at all."

"And I'd be working in the department where I initially applied for in the first place," said Hermione. "Sorry, but you weren't exactly my first choice."

"We're never anyone's first choice," said a strong but firm voice from behind her and Hermione blushed, turning around, recognising the sound of the voice, her face reddening with embarrassment at having insulted the office in front of its head on her first day. "Investigations has been understaffed and underfunded for years. Fact of the matter is that they don't need us anymore, when most of the Death Eaters are taken care of by the Aurors. I'd be surprised if any of us lasted until the end of next year, so if you had your hopes up for a long career in the business then you're going to be disappointed. But that doesn't stop the rest of us from trying to do some good before we go so I suggest Granger, if you want to actually make a difference here today, now might be the perfect time to stop standing there and do some work."

"Yes sir," said Hermione, her face red. "I didn't mean…"

Kingsley Shacklebolt burst out laughing at Hermione's ashamed reaction, his voice hoarse. "Don't worry, Granger. Nobody wants to be here. I remember Dawlish wanted Muggle Relations, and what was it that you wanted Greengrass, Press?"

"You're right, Shack."

"She was going to be a reporter," Shacklebolt said. "Well let me tell you this. The world needs good reporters, but Greengrass here, her talents were a perfect fit for the Major Investigations Office, so I had her transferred. Already working really well. Who knows, keep this up, maybe you'll reach Commander of your own Division one day, and get paid far more than being a simple reporter. A much more honourable task, too."

"You're too kind, Shack. Any word from Scrimgeour? Know who we're getting yet?"

"Seamus Finnegan, apparently," Shacklebolt said, and Hermione could see Daphne roll her eyes in distaste.

"One Gryffindor was bad enough, but two?"

"That reminds me," said Kingsley. "I'm going to need a word in private, please, Greengrass."

"Yes sir," said Daphne, throwing her cigarette and then obliterating it in the air with a spell as she did so, before it hit the ground. Kingsley and Daphne climbed up towards the courtroom seats, but no matter how hard Hermione listened, she couldn't make out what they were saying.

"It's a spell," explained Dawlish. "Muffliato. Greengrass found a diary in Snape's quarters before she left. Has loads of new spells that he may have invented. Of course, he doesn't know it's stolen, she cloned it, but the point still stands, we have access to some prototype spells that nobody else does, apart from Snape, of course, and Merlin knows who he told about them. But they're most likely prepping Greengrass ready for an undercover assignment, I wouldn't get used to her staying around for long."

"Undercover?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We're sending her into the hornet's nest," Dawlish said, moving the pictures of the board containing the mysterious members of the criminal organization in Knockturn Alley over, replacing them with that of the Death Eaters. These names were more frequent, more popular, "At least we know who these people are. The Devil You Know, and all that, right?"

"Sending Greengrass into the Death Eaters to spy, isn't that a bit… suicidal?"

"Well, Snape got away with it before so we're hoping to try a similar tactic," said Dawlish. "Look at them. We can't see what they're saying, but they're arguing. The boss will want word spread that it looks like they fell out so he can fire Greengrass, giving her the backstory that she needs to join the Death Eaters and get away with it. Once she's inside, we'll know everything she knows."

"It's dangerous. Does she know her legilimens?"

"Fully proficiently trained by none other than Snape himself," said Dawlish. "She was something of a prodigy to him in the mind arts. They're going to have to wipe my mind soon so I don't give anything away, and now that I've told you, they're going to have to wipe your mind as well. At least of the double agent part, anyway. Can't have a Death Eater reading your mind on a case."

"If that's true, why did you tell me?"

"I'm terrible at keeping secrets," said Dawlish. "My number one weakness, I get mind-wiped every time I leave the office and then my memory restored when I return so I can continue the days of my activity. I can't spill too much to my wife, she's more of a chatterbox than I am."

"That… must not be healthy."

"It isn't," Dawlish said. "But I'm paid handsomely for it. And I love my work. There's nothing they can't take away from me."

"Apart from your memory."

"Apart from my memory," nodded Dawlish, as the spell concealing the conversation was cut short, and Greengrass faked storming out of the room, leaving an exhausted Shacklebolt behind. Moments later, the newcomer, Finnegan, entered the room, spotting Hermione and cautiously waving.

"Granger!" his Irish accent was clear. "I didn't expect you to be starting here too. Lucky me that we got someone from Gryffindor as well. What happened to that Snake?"

Hermione wondered if part of Finnegan knew that he wasn't in Hogwarts anymore, but then again, given how steeped the Wizarding World was in tradition, most of the higher-ups still hadn't gotten used to the fact that they were no longer at that school either. "Oh," Dawlish covered for her. "Some people just can't take the stomach of working for the taskforce. You must be the new kid, right, Finnegan?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, good. Because I've got a case for you two to solve," said Dawlish. "A missing girl. Reckon you can work together on this? Two Gryffindors shouldn't have a problem."

"No sir," Finnegan shook his head as Dawlish handed Finnegan the files.

"Think of this as an initiation test," said Dawlish, with a smile. "Sally-Ann Perks. Cold Case, every other department has officially given up on her."

"She wasn't there for her OWLS," remembered Hermione, instantly. "If Harry Potter had gone to Hogwarts, his name would appear after the Patils. I remember they kept Potter's name on the register in case they expected him to randomly show up at Hogwarts one day. It was Patil, Patil, Perks, Potter, all throughout our first four years. I'm pretty sure Snape deducted points from Gryffindor for Potter not attending his class even though he was never at the school in the first place."

Dawlish chuckled. "Snape can be like that. So, here's the thing. Somewhere between her fourth year and her OWLS exam, Sally-Ann Perks disappears completely. It's like she slipped out of view from everyone's minds. Forgotten, and never mentioned again. We tried following up at Hogwarts but nobody seemed to know, not even her friends, and then her parents? They didn't even realise she was missing until we told them."

"That must have been harsh," Finnegan said. "So, we're searching a cold case, several years old. This must be impossible to find, right? Even by wizarding standards. So, what's changed now? Why the sudden re-interest in the case?"

"Because look at this," said Dawlish, handing Hermione a paper of The Guardian, a muggle newspaper. "I know the pictures don't move, but look. Take a real look."

"Arsenal sign Frenchman Thierry Henry on a club record fee?" Finnegan said, raising his eyebrow. "What's that got to do with Perks?"

"Oh, I'm always getting the muggle papers muddled up," Dawlish said. "That was the sports paper, look on the front. The headline isn't important, people like The Dursleys get murdered every other day in the papers. What is important is the picture. Look there. What do you see, in the background?"

"Huh," said Finnegan, glancing at one particular girl, about Finnegan and Hermione's age, who was turning about in the photo to look at the camera. The girl herself had dyed blue hair, but was still otherwise looked the same age as Sally-Ann Perks would have done, with exactly the same facial features.

"So, she's alive," Hermione said. "But isn't this the first time she's been spotted?"

"Yes," said Dawlish. "I don't know what she's doing back here, but obviously, the press were running this article about something happening in Surrey, Little Whinging, some murders of their own being discovered, a relatively obscure muggle family, and, in the picture of the nearby street, crowded of course, Perks shows up, out of the blue."

"That's interesting," said Hermione, noticing something. "Look at the photo. Everyone else is looking off to the left, not directly at the camera. They're all looking at the house, but Perks? She's looking directly at the Camera."

"Good observation," said Dawlish.

"I'm just spitballing ideas here, but why show up, why now, after all these years in hiding?" Hermione said. "All these years off the grid, you'd think she'd want to remain hidden. And she's done a pretty good job so far. But why throw it away in an instance? Surely, she knows there's going to be cameras there."

"So what you're saying is she wants to be found," realised Finnegan.

"It would appear so."

"But why? Why now?"

"And isn't that the question of the hour," said Dawlish. "It seems you two have a field trip. Go to Little Whinging. See what you can find out about her, ask around, is she local? Or just passing through. Don't let me down."

TO BE CONTINUED…

And we have our mystery. Don't worry, it won't be long until Harry shows up. This story is set in 1999 at the turn of the new millennium, but I'm going to take a liberty and say that some song titles in the chapters will come from after 1999 like with Solomon Burke's Fast Train, which is a nod to The Wire which proved to be a source of inspiration for this fic, along with other crime dramas like The Warriors, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Reservoir Dogs, The Departed and more. I'm not 100% sure how Ministry Election campaigns work in canon but I'm going to be using my own method for this and you'll start to see both sides of the Fudge and Bones campaigns over the course of the fic.

I'm aware of the many interpretations of Daphne Greengrass and the fact that she speaks very few words in canon. I've decided to do something different with her character who isn't exactly a standard "Ice Queen with a heart of gold," and you'll get to see more of her going forward. My baseline for her character is kind of a combination of personalities of Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica and Detective Kima Greggs from The Wire. I like using side characters who don't have much page time in my fics and fleshing them out a bit more - like Fletcher in the last fic and Greengrass and Finnegan in this one, so you'll see more of the same going forward. But at the centre, this will be a story focused on Hermione with Harry paying a key role which I don't want to specify yet, but it shouldn't take much of a leap to work out where he will factor into things going forward, especially if you've been paying attention to my author's notes in the previous fic. And there will be no bashing in this one, as much as it seemed like the slight toward Arthur Weasley when Hermione met him earlier. Ron Weasley will play a part, but not a huge one.

The end goal is 13 chapters, but that may not be possible depending on how long it goes on for. I know exactly how it's going to end already, and it's going to, like Have You Ever Seen the Rain? serve as a standalone story with no sequels, at least for now. As usual from that fic where possible I'll be doing a fanfic/film recommendation for each chapter.

Fanfic Recommendation of the Chapter: A fairly old one-shot fic As Long as You Know That, Potter, looking at Harry's first occlumency with Snape.

Film Recommendation of the Chapter: A Fistful of Dollars. The start of one of the greatest trilogies ever, a badass Ennio Morricone soundtrack and Sergio Leone's excellent direction really elevates this film.