WARNING: Character death (again). But you barely know he/she/it, so I don't think it's too personal.
Ministry of Magic
Auror Office
Tuesday, January 2, 2001
2:17 P.M.
"What time does the game start?" asked Ron for the third time that day.
Harry sighed, accidentally showing his annoyance. "It's at 2:30, that's why I'm trying to finish solving this line." He motioned to the Ancient Runes on the table and the pen and notepad lying next to them. The notepad had three words written on it: I am in. The last two words in the sentence could not be deciphered – at least, not by Harry."I can't believe Kingsley said Hermione can't translate them for us. We're only trainees, it's not like we're cracking the most important case in the Auror office."
"That's no way to be thinking, Potter," called Courtney brightly from her desk. "'Course it's important. Why else would we give it to you?"
"I don't know, maybe because we're on our third year of training, so we're almost certified, and there's nothing else for us to do since we can't shadow all the other Aurors because they're working on some super-secret, super-complicated case that we're not allowed to know about?" said Harry tiredly, turning the page in the Rune Dictionary.
Courtney rolled her eyes when Harry and Ron turned away from her. "Do you know how much research I had to put into those damn Runes? I spent the past six months finding and putting those together, don't waste my effort."
"Six months?" Ron repeated. "Blimey, you do more work than I thought you did. I thought you were just the secretary."
"Nobody's ever 'just a secretary,' Weasley," said Courtney seriously.
Harry stood up, defeated, and closed the dictionary. "I give up. I'll finish it tomorrow, I want to go to my wife's exhibition game now." Waving his wand, Harry levitated the book to its shelf and the manila folder of Runes back over to Courtney's desk. "You coming, Ron?"
"Give a man a second!" said Ron, as he manually returned the notepad and pen to Courtney.
"The Harpies' exhibition game?" Courtney asked Harry, who nodded. "I was gonna go, but the Minister wouldn't let me off. Oh, well. Maybe I'll get to go to their game against the Cannons."
"You're a Harpies fan?" Ron said as he and Harry hurried towards the fireplace.
She shrugged. "I guess you could say that." Neither Harry nor Ron had time to reply, though, because they had already disappeared through the Floo Network.
Ron stepped out of the fireplace after Harry. "So. . .where are we? I just followed you."
"Oh, yeah, sorry," said Harry. "Getting up at 4:30 this morning has got my brain all foggy. This is the Dynasty Training –"
"'Dynasty'? Why 'Dynasty'?" said Ron.
"I dunno, maybe the Dynasty family were donors –"
"Excuse me?"
Harry and Ron turned to the dark-skinned woman behind the desk in front of them. "Sorry?" said Harry.
"I was just wondering why you two men were here?" she questioned.
"Oh, er, I'm – well, we're – here to get tickets," Harry explained.
"Sir, the ticket booth is at the stadium. This is the Training Center, no men allowed unless they have permission. . .no offense, of course, it's just for our players' privacy," said the lady.
Ron glanced at Harry and said, "Well, I'm Ron Weasley, this is Harry Potter, and apparently his wife reserved tickets for the Harpies' exhibition game this afternoon. So I think we might have permission."
The woman smiled. "Oh! Is the name under 'Potter' or 'Weasley'?"
"Potter," Harry answered.
"Ah, yes," she said, opening a file cabinet underneath her desk, and pulling out two tickets. "Level 1, Section 3, Row B, Seats 1 and 2." She handed them to Ron, who quickly pocketed them, before she outstretched her hand. "I'm Bobbi, by the way. The Harpies' receptionist."
Ron, then Harry, shook Bobbi's hand. "Nice to meet you," said Harry. "So how do we get to the stadium?"
"See that door?" she said, pointing down the hall. "Those are the stairs. Go down to the first floor – not the basement, mind you – and go through the doors in the lobby to the outside. You should be able to see the stadium's entrance, it's right across from the lower entrance here. When you enter the stadium, turn right until you see a sign that says 'Section 3,' then go into that entrance. You'll probably be able to find your seats from there if you've got any brains at all, and I think you do." Bobbi winked at them, referring to their defeat of Voldemort.
"Alright, thank you," said Harry.
"And you might want to hurry, it's supposed to start right at 2:30!" Bobbi called after them as they ran to the doors she had directed them to.
"Doesn't she go to the games, too?" Ron muttered to Harry as they sprinted down the steps.
Between his panting, Harry replied, "Yeah, probably. But this is just an exhibition game."
They finally reached the ground floor and followed Bobbi's instructions when they arrived at the Dynasty Stadium, easily reaching their seats.
"These are good seats," Ron remarked.
"Apparently no press is allowed in Section 1," said Harry, looking around at all the people decked out in their Harpies gear, most commonly the family member's jersey who they had come to see play.
"I feel like an oddball, sitting here without a t-shirt on," said Ron.
"Don't say that or you'll make me feel like one," Harry said.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the annual Holyhead Harpies Exhibition Game!" the commentator boomed through the stadium. "Today we will be watching the team scrimmage against each other on two teams. So without further ado, let's welcome the Green Team! Chasers Delilah Gerrup, Estela Gardener, and Gemma Stoneson! Beaters Gianna Thomas and Harpies' Captain Gwenog Jones! Keeper Gennifer Kamari! And. . .Seeker Giselle Bennett!" The people behind Harry and Ron cheered when their player's name was announced and as they flew onto the field.
"Where's Ginny?" Ron whispered to Harry.
He shrugged. "She must be on the other team."
Sure enough, once all the members of the Green Team had flown onto the field, the announcer said, "And now for the Gold Team! Chasers Alice Garret, Ginny Potter, and Ivy Gauge! Beaters Gianna Thomas and Hannah Galilea! Keeper Michaela Goskey! And. . .Seeker Grey Shafiq!" The commentator paused as the Gold Team filled into their positions across from the Green Team. "Today's referees are Cyprian Youdle and Maurice Bloorgan!"
Youdle waved good-naturedly to the crowd while Bloorgan held the Snitch tight in her hand. Youdle shouted, "Let the game begin!"
Ginny and Gemma Stoneson came forward from their respective teams. Bloorgan released the Snitch as Youdle threw the Quaffle into the air. Ginny raced forward, grabbed the Quaffle from the air and sped off.
Fuming, Gemma chased after her and continuously jammed into her, trying to knock her off her broom. "Cobbing!" shouted Ron, standing up. "That's cobbing right there! And it's just an exhibition game!"
Ginny flew downward, throwing Gemma off. Ginny turned around and gave her a small grin as she flew back up and easily threw the Quaffle past the Green Team's Keeper, Gennifer Kamari. "That's ten for the Gold Team!" announced the commentator.
"That was a nice goal," said Ron, clapping while Harry cheered loudly next to him.
The Chasers did get dirty (even though they were really on the same team) during the game, but the referee waved them off. "They're just having a bit of fun!" Youdle called cheerily to Bloorgan after Gemma violently blatched Ivy Gauge, a Chaser on the Gold Team.
"Stoneson's got an attitude, doesn't she?" Ron whispered to Harry, somewhat amused by the woman's violence towards her own teammates.
Harry nodded. "She's not very fond of Ginny. They have a rivalry since Gweong upgraded Ginny to center Chaser and downgraded her to left Chaser. I don't know why she's so upset, though, it's not like she's a reserve. She still starts."
"Women," said Ron, shaking his head.
The game ended when Grey Shafiq barely snatched the Snitch away from Giselle Bennett. The final score flashed all around the packed stadium: 100-270 GOLD TEAM WINS!
Both teams returned to the ground, lined up, and shook hands jokingly. But for Gemma, it wasn't a joke. When she reached Ginny she purposefully nudged her, causing Ginny to spin around angrily and say, "Somebody's a sore loser."
Delilah Gerrup and Estela Gardener restrained Gemma from fighting back. "You little –!"
"Whoa!" said Gweong, pushing Ginny and Gemma apart as Youdle and Bloorgan rushed over. "What's happening over here?!"
"Potter here provoked me," said Gemma furiously.
"Because you pushed me," Ginny added.
Gwenog rolled her eyes. "You two sound like two-year-olds. Potter, come with me. Stoneson, see me after review, alright?" Gwenog grabbed Ginny's arm and dragged her off the field.
"What happened there?" Harry asked Ron, clearly confused. Both of them had not been able to hear what had happened on the field.
"No idea," Ron answered. "Looks like they got into a fight."
"But it's just an exhibition game!" Harry sighed.
4:02 P.M.
"What was that about, Potter?" Gwenog demanded when they reached her office in the stadium.
"Gemma's an arse with anger issues, that's what that was about," Ginny said heatedly.
Gwenog hesitated. "Look, that show-down you two just had? Terrible for publicity. And sure, I'll tell you a billion times I don't care about how popular our team is and that I just want us to win, but the owners will tell you otherwise. They're just trying to make money. Trust me, bad sportsmanship – especially within the team – does not attract fans."
"Well, I don't care about the owners' success. All I care about is playing," said Ginny, folding her arms across her chest.
"That's what I like to hear," said Gwenog, "unless it's a matter of money and promotion. And that's what this is, and I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep my job because the paycheck's pretty good."
Ginny snorted. "Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about."
"You do," she pointed out. "You're one of the best Chasers the Harpies have had in a long time. Probably the best of my time here. But now it seems like you've got anger issues or something – that's the rubbish the Prophet or Witch Weekly's going to make up about you, because that's what they said about me when I was a rookie and got in a fight with Dai Llewellyn – and that's either going to really hurt or really help the Harpies' publicity."
"What about that Witch Weekly article? Isn't that going to attract desperate men or something?" suggested Ginny. "That'll balance out whatever bad thing the Prophet says about me, won't it?"
Gwenog shrugged. "Possibly. I don't know what they're going to say about you. They'll probably criticize your husband for marrying such a wild woman."
"I am not wild –"
"I don't think you are," said Gwenog. "I'm just making something up. I don't want them to say that, because then there will be even more desperate men at our games, thinking how sexy it is that you're 'wild.' We've already got enough of those creepy-stalker wizard fans who try to break into the locker rooms. We'll get more with you. It could make money, but it'll give us, the Harpies, a reputation we don't want or need."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I don't care," said Ginny, standing up from her chair across from the Captain's desk. "Like I said, all I want to do is play Quidditch."
She sighed. "But you can't 'just play Quidditch,' Potter. Quidditch is a team sport, right? So if two members of a team don't get along, how can they get along and play together when they're going against other teams?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm not a two-year-old, Gwenog. I know that it's either going to hurt or help the Harpies franchise. I know that it's terrible for business if the team's two starting Chasers aren't getting along. But it'll work out before the game against the Cannons. We've got over a month."
"We've got thirty-nine days," Gwenog corrected. "And if you two can't fix whatever's up between you, then I'm going to have to demote one or both of you."
"God, it just started literally ten or fifteen minutes ago and you're already threatening my position? You've got to be kidding me," Ginny said. "Gemma and I haven't even had time to 'fix whatever's up between us.' I don't even know what's up between us!"
Gwenog hesitated. "You do know, Potter. It's because I gave you her former position as center Chaser. Now she's the left one. Don't ask me why it matters so much to her. I don't even know why she stayed with us after gave out positions. If she was so angry, she could have gone to another team that is in desperate need of a Chaser – like the Cannons."
"Has she played on other teams before?" Ginny asked.
"Yeah," Gwenog answered. "Stoneson started out with the Catapults. Then she quit with them because she said she wasn't getting paid enough, so I recruited her. And now she's all pissed off about being 'demoted' even though she has nothing to complain about. Gardener's a reserve now and I haven't heard one complaint come out of her mouth. Dunno why she's that way, but I really wish Gemma was, too."
"I don't know," Ginny sighed, sitting back down. "This whole thing's a big confusing mess about jealousy and physicality. I have no idea where I stand in it and why she's so ticked off at me. So you should be asking her about everything, not me. Why did you talk to me first?"
"You're the rookie," she shrugged. "I thought I should give you a stern talking to. Besides, I already trust you more than I trust Stoneson."
Ginny grinned. "'S that a compliment?"
Gwenog smiled back. "Yeah, Potter, I think it is."
Ministry of Magic
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures
Being Division
2:44 P.M.
"– it was miserable," Hermione sighed. "George and Angelina's house-elf died – oh, and a man by the name of Thomas Burke did as well. But his wife didn't seem to hardly care. Actually, I think I was more upset than she was."
Kayla McMarcus, Hermione's coworker, (not Katy Markham, which was what Ron thought was her name) rolled her eyes. "Oh, pure-blood marriages. Why marry people for a higher class in society instead of who you actually want to spend the rest of your life with?" Kayla said.
Hermione nodded. "I know, it's just stupid. Anyway, eventually I just couldn't stay calm and let it all out at her. I could tell she didn't support us during the war just by the way she looked at us with disgust. She seemed like a very unpleasant person."
"That's why I don't work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Kayla seriously, taking a bite of a cookie she'd brought to work as a snack. "I've got a friend from Hogwarts who works there, she said that pure-bloods always come in trying to make laws against Muggles or Muggle-borns. I can't stand it when people discriminate against us. People like you and me are even more magical than they are. I just don't get it!"
Kayla was a middle-aged witch with wavy brown hair that was always pulled back in a ponytail. Her simple sense of style – normally just a nice blouse and formal skirt – made her quite unnoticeable to the average person. However, she stood out in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with her strong opinions and popular solutions to pending problems and issues.
"Yeah, I'd probably work there," said Hermione, "if it wasn't for the stupid pure-bloods. I can stand 'blood traitors' since they don't brag – well, of course I can, I married one – about their lineage – well, I probably know more about Ron's than he does – as much, if they do at all."
She nodded, taking a sip from her mug of butterbeer she had gotten in the break room. "See, that's –"
But what it was, Hermione never got to know.
Godric's Hollow
Potter Cottage
5:06 P.M.
"I'm home!" Ginny called as she stepped out of the fireplace. She was startled to find Ron sitting on the couch in the living room. "What are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you, too," Ron snorted and put down the Quidditch magazine he had been reading. "I'm here because I went to your game and want to know what that postgame fight was about."
She rolled her eyes. "Gwenog says that Stoneson's jealous of me, but I think she's just a sore loser who has anger issues. Where's Harry?"
"A sore loser with anger issues, eh? That's not a very kind opinion of your own teammate," Ron remarked.
"Where's Harry?" she repeated.
He sighed. "He's upstairs in your bedroom taking a shower. And by the way, you had a nice performance out there."
"It was just an exhibition game," said Ginny, shaking off the compliment. "It makes no difference. Gwenog would've been pissed if a starter got hurt in an exhibition game – she actually asked that we not play to our full abilities."
"Are you really that good?" said Ron, surprised by his own sister's abilities.
Ginny grinned. "Actually, I ignored her. But I really appreciate your trust in my talent," she added sarcastically.
"Ron!" hissed a voice.
Ron looked around, both of them recognizing Hermione's voice but not knowing where it was coming from. Ginny, meanwhile, rolled her eyes at her brother and pointed at the fireplace. "She's right there, stupid," said Ginny, heading upstairs.
Sure enough, Hermione's head sat in the fireplace. "My God, this is uncomfortable!" said Hermione, wincing. "I'm going to say this quickly, I've got to get back to Kayla's room."
"What's happened?" Ron asked.
"I was talking with her this afternoon when she took a sip of butterbeer that apparently had five drops of the Death-Cap Draught which apparently causes a slow and painful death but I didn't know that so when she started choking and coughing I didn't know what was happening which was really stupid because I SHOULD have recognized the symptoms but I didn't and so now it's all my fault that she's dying!" said Hermione quickly.
"I'm sure it's not your fault that she – are we talking about Katy? – is dying," said Ron, not knowing what he should do as he had never been in a situation quite like this one.
"Her name is Katy. Anyway, I'll be late tonight, maybe nine o'clock or so," said Hermione, disregarding her husband's attempted words of comfort. "Possibly later," she added. "And why aren't you at home, you said you were coming straight home after Ginny's game?"
Ron shook his head. "There was a feud at the game, I wanted to hear Ginny's point-of-view and opinion of it," he explained.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack, at least leave a note next time!" she urged. "I've got to go now, I'll see you later."
Before he could say anything else, she was gone.
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Third Floor – Potions and Plant Poisoning
8:37 P.M.
"We have investigated the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' break room," said a gruff looking Auror to a Healer by the name of Scout Higgins in Kayla's private hospital room. "Traces of the Death-Cap Draught have been located; however, the criminal was not careless, leaving no DNA behind for our recognition. We have identified every speck of DNA as welcome in the Ministry."
Hermione, who was sitting anxiously in a chair by the window, piped up, "Which means whoever is was is part of the Ministry."
The Auror eyed her, his eyebrows raised. "It is not polite to eavesdrop on confidential conversations, Ms. Granger," he said.
"Actually, this is not a confidential conversation, as you are telling a Healer in the room or Ms. McMarcus here. As a matter of fact, I thought I would be of use to you," said Hermione. "After all, I was the only witness of her death."
He didn't speak for a moment. "Very well, then. You're the one who suggested being interrogated. When Ms. McMarcus – passes, we will escort you to the Auror Office."
"Can I not just go there myself? I work in the Ministry, and my husband and best friend are Auror trainees," said Hermione angrily. "I am perfectly able to 'escort' myself there."
"It is traditional protocol for us to escort our witnesses to our office, Ms. Granger," said the Auror tiredly. "We know you can walk."
She was tired. No, exhausted. And grumpy. And she had not been planning on being at the hospital, watching her coworker die slowly and painfully. So Hermione could not help but retort, "Most of the witnesses you have for crimes have committed some sort of crime in the past. However, my record is completely clean, so I think you can trust me. And I know I can walk, thank you for telling me, though."
The Auror didn't hesitate to say, "Come with me, Ms. Granger. I think we're going to have your interrogation a bit sooner than usual."
With one last glance at Kayla, Hermione left the room. Her stomach turned regretfully as she realized that was the last time she would see her friend alive.
Godric's Hollow
Potter Cottage
5:42 P.M.
"You're staying for dinner, aren't you?" said Ginny, poking her head into the living room where Harry and Ron sat.
Ron glanced at Harry. "If that's alright with you."
She shrugged. "It's not a big deal. We always have extras, so I guess it's fine." Ginny headed back into the kitchen.
"So you said that Hermione's coworker's butterbeer was spiked with drops of the Death-Cap Draught?" Harry said.
"Five drops of it, yeah," said Ron. "Though I dunno why it makes a difference. . . ."
"Hey, Ginny?" Harry called.
"Yeah?"
"Where are all of our books from Hogwarts?"
"In the attic."
Harry stood up, motioning for Ron to do the same. "Come on. You were wondering why five drops of the Death-Cap Draught made a difference."
"Where are we going?" asked Ron cautiously, standing up as Harry had beckoned him to.
"Just the attic," Harry assured him. "The answer should be in one of our old potions books. Problem is, I dunno which one."
Ministry of Magic
Auror Office
8:43 P.M.
"We've got our first suspect of the murder," said the Auror who had escorted Hermione back to the Ministry.
The Chief Auror, Joshua Henderson, nodded but looked surprised. "Hermione Granger?" he said.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "To be honest, sir, I'm just as confused as you are. I'm a witness, not a suspect, but somebody here –" She gave the grumpier Auror a pointed look. "– seems to think otherwise."
Henderson looked up at the other Auror. "Simpson, you can leave the room."
When the door shut, Henderson said, "Alright, let's get this over with. I'm exhausted and just want to go home like everyone else. I'm gonna ask you three questions and then you're free to leave. First question: what were you doing when Kayla McMarcus. . .er, coughed."
"We were sitting in her office, talking about pure-bloods and the whole New Year's fiasco," Hermione answered promptly. "Then she took a sip of butterbeer and the rest is history."
He nodded. "Alright, second question: how long have you know Ms. McMarcus?"
"Since I began working at the Ministry right after I graduated from Hogwarts, so about a year and a half."
"Alright, and last question: why were you in Ms. McMarcus's office when she died?"
"I was in Kayla's office because she had a question for me about a report that I am working on. We got a bit off topic, and then. . . ."
"Alright, thank you, Ms. Granger," said Henderson. "You're free to go home now."
"Thank you," she said, hurrying out of the room.
Godric's Hollow
Potter Cottage
6:13 P.M.
"Oh, this is useless," sighed Ron, tossing another potions book back into a box. "We're never going to be able to find anything."
"Sure we will," said Harry, faking positivity as he opened Moste Potente Potions. There was no table of contents, leaving him to flip through every one of the six hundred pages of the book to find the Death-Cap Draught.
Ron came over and peeked over his friend's shoulder. "Those potions aren't even in alphabetical order, and you have no idea what page it's on. How the hell are you going to find the Death-Cap Draught? What if it's not even in there?"
"It's got to be. . .I remember Ginny owled me in her seventh year about how complicated the potion was. . .this was their only potions textbook," said Harry, everything coming back to him.
"Then why didn't we look in this bloody book first?" Ron demanded.
"It was at the bottom of the pile, I'd completely forgotten," said Harry.
"Hey, you two! Dinner's ready!" Ginny called up the stairs.
"Got it!" Harry called back. "Be there in a second! It's got to be in here somewhere. . . ."
Ron shook his head. "You sure you're not thinking of, I don't know, the 'Draught of Death' or something like that? Because I'm pretty sure the Death-Cap Draught and the Draught of Death are two completely different things."
"I'm sure, you can go through those letters Ginny wrote me in that crate over there," said Harry, pointing to a large crate full of inky parchment on a shelf.
"I'd rather not," said Ron, muttering something about how he "thought Hermione wrote essays, but Ginny wrote Harry books."
Three hundred pages and fifteen minutes later, Ginny yelled again, "Are you two coming or not?!"
"Sorry!" said Harry. "We got a bit caught up."
There was a pause, a pop! from downstairs, then an even louder POP! in the attic as Ginny Apparated to the dark room. "Caught up doing what? Reading?" she said, looking at Harry and Ron, who both sat against the wall looking at Moste Potente Potions open on the floor between the two of them.
"Your dinner's going to be cold, then," she remarked, folding her arms across her chest. "Can't your reading wait? Why even are you reading?"
"One of Hermione's coworkers died this afternoon because her butterbeer had five drops of the Death-Cap Draught in it," Harry explained quickly. "We're trying to figure why five drops makes a difference."
"She didn't tell you why?" said Ginny, raising her eyebrows. Ron shook his head. "It was on our N.E.W.T. exam. The number of drops of the Death-Cap Draught one takes changes its result."
"Really?" said Harry. "Then what does five drops do?"
Ginny shut her eyes tightly, trying to remember. "Well, the potion itself only makes seven drops," she said slowly, opening her eyes. "If someone takes all seven drops, they die over two days. Apparently it's really painful. If someone takes one drop, they die immediately." She closed her eyes again. "With two they die in exactly thirty minutes. Three, they die within an hour. With four they die in three hours. With five, they die in six hours. Six, one day."
"So five drops means the person poisoned dies a slow and painful death over the course of six hours," Harry repeated.
"Oh, Hermione said that!" said Ron.
Harry laughed. "So we've wasted forty-five minutes looking for something you knew already?"
"Well, she didn't say how long it took for five drops to kill someone," Ron said. "She just said the thing about a slow and painful death."
"Whatever," said Ginny. "Anyway, it's a very complicated potion. Whoever brewed it must've been really committed to killing Hermione's coworker. It takes two months to make. Now will you two please come down for dinner? I haven't eaten since breakfast."
"Blimey, Ginny," said Ron, levitating Moste Potente Potions back into the box it had come from. "Why? I don't think I'd be able to survive."
"I'm barely hanging on to life here, Ron, because you two wouldn't come down the damn stairs!" said Ginny.
"Is she always this grumpy?" Ron whispered to Harry, who laughed. "What did you do to her?!"
Ginny glared daggers at both of them. "Come on, you slowpokes! I'm hungry!"
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Third Floor – Potions and Plant Poisoning
8:52 P.M.
"She passed eight minutes ago," said Healer Scout Higgins sadly. "Her father has been notified of her sudden death by Healers, but they did not explain that she was poisoned. Instead they said she was in a car accident. Apparently her father is making arrangements for a small funeral as we speak, but I don't know why any offices would be open. Anyway, we'll have to Obliviate him of the whole incident of course, and that he ever had a daughter." Hermione just nodded, too exhausted to say anything. "Are you okay, Ms. Granger?"
She shook her head. "No, I –" She yawned. "– I think I'm going to go home. Thank you for what you did tonight, and –"
Healer Higgins patted her back comfortingly. "Go on, sweetie. You're tired, you deserve some rest."
Hermione nodded slowly as Higgins gently pushed her out the door. She Flooed home, and didn't even realize her husband was not home as she crawled into bed. Right before she dozed off, however, a furious tapping on the window above her bed brought her to her senses. She pushed the curtains aside a bit and looked out the window to find a Ministry owl staring back at her. Reluctantly, Hermione opened the window and allowed the owl inside, also sending a whoosh of cold air into the room. Her teeth chattered as she untied the letter, stamped with the Ministry emblem. When she unrolled it, her tired eyes were barely able to stay open as she read:
Dear Ms. Hermione Jean Granger,
In light of recent events, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Mr. Amos Joseph Johnston and other authorities in the Ministry of Magic and the department have made the decision to promote you to Director of Awareness of Magical Beings.
Please report to Conference Room 401 at 10:00 A.M. tomorrow, Wednesday, January 3, 2001 so you can officially accept your new position and to discuss the new endeavors you will take on as the Director of Awareness for your chosen division.
Thank you.
She sighed and managed to drop the letter on her bedside table before her head hit the pillow, asleep.
Godric's Hollow
Potter Cottage
10:43 P.M.
"– and then she said, 'I can't believe you did that!'" Ron said. He and Harry both roared with laughter.
"Will you two keep it down?!" Ginny demanded loudly from hers and Harry's bedroom upstairs.
"Sorry, Ginny!" Harry called. "What time is it?"
Ron glanced at his watch. "Fifteen till."
"Till ten?"
He shook his head. "Eleven."
"Eleven?" Harry repeated. "It's already eleven and Hermione hasn't come here demanding why you're here and not at home?"
"'Parrently," said Ron, shrugging. Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure she's fine. She's probably just staying at work late or something, she stayed until three one morning. Actually, one time she fell asleep in the office, I brought her breakfast the next morning on my way to training –"
"Ron, her boss died this afternoon. I don't think she's 'fine'," said Harry concernedly.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course she is. Harry, this is Hermione we're talking about. When has she not been fine?"
"I can think of a few times," Harry pointed out.
"Well, those during the war don't count. Whether she's fine or not," said Ron, changing the subject, "I should still probably be getting home."
"I should probably be getting in bed," Harry consented. "But I'm pretty sure Ginny brought home elfish wine a few nights ago. . . ."
"Oh, thank God," said Ron. "You know Hermione and how she is about stupid elves. . .she'd never let me even touch a bottle of that."
Harry grinned. "Then let's hope she's not going to come looking for you."
Sorry for the slow update! Three weeks. . .I'm a terrible person. I'll try to be faster next time. This was a longer chapter than usual, but I hope this will become the "norm" in future chapters.
Also, would you all rather me a) update as soon as I finish [as I've been doing] or b) have me update, say, the Thursday after I finish the chapter? Oh, and would you like previews to the next chapters, hints, anything. . . ? Please let me know - not everything's about me.
Questions, comments, and concerns are welcome! Thank you all for your support of "Breakaway" (and me)!
~Sunny