Story Name: Dust and Bones
Synopsis: Life never ties itself up so well that good wins completely. The fact is, true evil is a shadow not even the brightest light can eradicate. It waits for when the light is turned off before it can come out and reclaim dominance. The mark of true evil left by the Dark Lord, has done just that. It bid its time, and has now expanded its influence enough, that it could safely return.
Pairings: None. I don't think people should read a story based on its pairings. If some evolve, then fine. But there aren't any inherent ones.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and yes, I'm aware this isn't the most creative story plot. I found it on my harddrive, like another recent story of mine, and am publishing it for the hell of synopsis will be made better later, I really just don't care enough right now to fix it.
Paranoid. The perfect word to describe Minister Granger's current feelings towards the situation at hand - a feeling
she learned to respect, as it had kept her thriving in the years following the war - where others had gone missing
or fallen along the way, she had prevailed. Though people hadn't always agreed with her methods, she had
done everything out of necessity. What choice did she have, after all, given the surprisingly numerous cells of
sympathizers and supporters of Voldemort still latched onto the woodwork of society? They could damn her all
they wanted to for it, she had a greater responsibility than they did, she had to protect both of her worlds - she
was a muggle and a witch, after all. Hermione twitched to the left in her walk, her mental rant ending abruptly.
Oh dear, not good, people didn't need to see such as that...
Swiftly she fixed the papers that had shifted in her episode, her face never loosing that plastered public smile. Mini-
ster Hermione scanned every face in her view. Looking for malcontents. Despite her greatest efforts, things had
only been getting worse. It was honestly only a matter of time before something genuinely -
A scream pierced the great hall, down near one of the farthest Floo Network Chimney's. Hermione stopped,
whipping her bushy head about to look behind her. What was that? An accident? Did someone fall? Or had some-
one been attacked? The flow of the crowd began to move around her, zombified in their dedication to daily
work routines that hearing such a noise didn't even phase them. Hermione snaked a hand down behind her papers,
reaching into her robe for the comforting length of vine wood, eyes darting around that end of the hall, looking for
something out of place. Had she been the only one to hear it?
She supposed that was possible... lately there had been... things such as that happening. No, there it was,
more screams, and flashing lights. Spells were being cast, a variety of deep, rich greens. That would be her cue,
then. Discarding the paperwork in her arms, Hermione started to fight against the crowd, which had finally picked
up its speed in attempts to escape whatever was happening on the other end. The crowd surged against her, mak-
ing it hard to fight her way through.
Hermione pulled out her wand, aiming for the air and casting off a spell with a wrist flick, "Signumallus Educo!"
It spiraled into the air, going through the ceiling - that would get Ron here sooner, with his little group of specials.
The crowd cleared out faster than she could have imagined, by the time she looked back down, only handful of other
brave souls had remained behind, wands drawn. She recognized a couple of them, diplomats who had no business
being out here in a fight. The others, she assumed - no, hoped - were Aurors.
And then there were the trouble makers, the malcontents. A pile of innocent corpses surrounded them, the seven
darkly clad figures, a light mist floating at their ankles. They were role playing, as... Dementors? Though they o-
bviously were not the dreaded creatures, the room rather lacked that soul sucking feeling of pure despair - they
had gone out of their way to make themselves seem the part. What an odd choice... she couldn't think of any cells
of malcontents that had taken up such a mantle...
More importantly, how dare these people intrude on her domain, on her ministry. The Ministry of Magic,
only moments before, had been bustling with magical life; colorfully adorned people had been going to and fro
within its tightly packed halls. Now a good portion of that color lay on the floor, dead.
Bastards.
The two groups of witches and wizards stared each other down for a short time. Hermione shifted, eyes narr-
owing. What were they waiting for? They had made such a big show of it... They were recollecting, perhaps,
she couldn't let them have time to do it -
Dzzt.The closest Dementor-impersonating terrorist - dubbed such as they had clearly come with the intent of causing,
wait for it, 'terror' - whipped his wand out from under the long clock, a bolt of green flying out. They had skill, to
be able to cast spells without speaking the magical words...
Everyone reacted, though sadly, despite her own paranoia and alertness, Minister Hermione Granger was not
quick enough, and the killing curse struck her, taking the breath of life from her.
A/N:
Well, hoped you enjoyed this ages old thing I just found on my harddrive. I dolled it up a bit, so it's not totally old work.
Please review.
A/N End