Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, even if you're starting to wish she didn't these days.
A/N: If anyone wants to write Hermione and Georgina's Excellent Adventures, be my guest. The apprenticeship lasts three years, and only a smattering of it will be shown here, so there's sure to be plenty more to cover.
Chapter 10
24 June 2000
Hogwarts closed for its second year after the war, and Harry and Ginny met Sirius at King's Cross Station when the Hogwarts Express pulled in. Why he had taken the Express, Harry had no idea, but he'd learnt not to question Sirius's oddities.
"Hey there, Pup," Sirius said when he saw Harry. "What're you doing here?"
"Just wanted to say hi," Harry said. "We heard a rumour you were leaving Hogwarts. Is there a problem up there?"
"No, no problem. I just didn't want to do it anymore," Sirius said.
Harry frowned: "Why not?"
His godfather chuckled. "You think I wanted to be a teacher? Definitely not my style. I'm more used to sticking it to the Man than being the Man."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Sticking it to the Man?"
"Hey, I was a child of the sixties. Come on, since you're here, what do you say we get some dinner?" Harry and Ginny shrugged and followed him out of the station. "Anyway, my reviews weren't even that good," he continued.
"You were a decent teacher," Harry reassured him.
"Only 'cause look who you had for comparison. I can do the job, but the kids deserve better than me. I only did the first year for you, and I only did the second year to prove the curse was broken. I recommended Moony for the position for next year if he wants it. I really think he should take it."
Harry and Ginny had to admit Remus would be better teacher than Sirius, and Sirius seemed happy to be done with Hogwarts. "So now what're you gonna do now?" Harry asked him.
He shrugged. "Probably just kick back and enjoy my retirement."
"You're retiring at forty, you deadbeat!" Harry exclaimed.
"Hey, that's 'filthy rich deadbeat' to you. Besides, you haven't even had a job yet."
"Ginny and I have actually been doing stuff, though."
"We've done exhibition flying in three countries," Ginny agreed.
"And yet I'm the one with a Firebolt Millennium," Sirius retorted.
They stopped. "You've already bought a Firebolt Millennium while you were busy at the school?" Ginny said.
He grinned: "The better question is, why haven't you bought a Firebolt Millennium already?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I tried the Firebolt Millennium. They asked me to when it was in development. The handling is mediocre. Bloody fast, but too much of a hair-trigger. I don't know how that happened after the original was so good."
Sirius frowned. "Probably the war. Did they lose anyone who worked on the original?"
"I…don't know," he admitted. "I do know they were planning to release a Firebolt II in '98, and the war delayed them for a couple years."
"Hmm, might be that, then. Still, I'm good with the 'bloody fast' part."
"Of course you are."
22 August 2000
It had taken nearly two weeks from when Hermione saw the press release to contact the Swiss Ministry, convince them of just why this trip was so important, locate someone at CERN who was read into magic (they employed so many people that there were a couple), and arrange a trip for her to visit, but at last, she was in Geneva, where she could finally start up her work on antimatter.
They also asked her to kill a few dementors while she was in the country, but it was mostly for the antimatter.
Her contact, Dr. van der Werf, met her in the front lobby. He was an older man dressed far more casually than she'd expected. She'd never been around muggle scientists much before, but a surprising number of them at CERN were in T-shirts and jeans. He smiled when he saw her.
"Dr. Granger, it's an honour to meet you," he said, shaking her hand vigorously.
"Pleasure, Dr. van der Werf," she replied. "Thank you for meeting me…Just call me the Doctor."
Van der Werf gave her a funny look.
"Sorry. I can't get anyone in the magical world to call me that either."
"I can imagine," he said. "My son was so excited when he told me about your work on magic and radioactivity. I even read the paper. I didn't know the magical theory enough to understand it, but what I followed of the math was good work."
"Thanks. And you'd be the opposite of everyone else, then," she said. "They only understood the magical theory."
"Ah. Shame." He led her through the hallways to the control centre. It was almost like something she'd expect from NASA, albeit more stylised. Researchers bustled around long, semicircular rows of desks that were lined with a near-solid wall of computer monitors stacked two high, all showing various aspects of the equipment and data processing for the facility.
"So, you wanted to hear about the new Antiproton Decelerator?" van der Werf asked.
"Yes. They told you about my new project?" she asked.
"Did they ever." He lowered his voice. "I nearly had a heart attack when the Swiss Minister for Magic told me you were worried about using magic to create antimatter."
"Yes, but I strongly suspect it's impossible," she corrected. "And I also suspect the Swiss Minister was just parroting the words. I'm trying to prove it's impossible, but I need magical readings of actual antimatter."
Antimatter was extremely difficult to come by, for obvious reasons. Natural potassium produced positrons, but it was only one in a hundred million atoms in an element where the relevant isotope had a half-life of over a billion years, so it was almost undetectable. Hospitals produced short-lived positron sources for PET scans on the spot, but only in tiny amounts. University laboratories might have sodium-22 tabletop sources of positrons, but they were still just positrons, and seeing how electricity and magic interfered with each other, she wasn't sure they would give accurate readings.
There were no antiproton sources at all outside international facilities like CERN.
"Well either way, I'll help you with that any way I can," he said. "That isn't something we want to let lie."
"Yes. Let's start by seeing how the machine works."
"Of course." He led her to one of the desks, and she began taking notes on a small notepad. "We produce antiprotons by bombarding an iridium target with protons from the Proton Synchrotron," he explained. "We then feed them into another synchrotron ring to slow them down. It's quite simple; he just have to reverse the polarity."
Hermione gave van der Werf a sharp look.
"Sorry," he said. "I just like saying that. But it's the same principle. With the opposite polarity, the magnets slow the beam down instead of accelerating it. We keep it focused by bleeding off energy by synchrotron radiation and cool the beam from 25 GeV to 5.3 MeV where we can deliver it to other experiments."
She jotted down the numbers and made the conversion to both speed and temperature. They were numbers that could be considered "cool" only by the ridiculous standards of particle physics: nearly a tenth the speed of light and about fifty billion degrees. Not the best conditions to be working under, but she'd have to take what she could get.
After studying the setup for a while, she asked, "How close can I physically get to the beam?"
"You mean while it's running?" van der Werf said. "About a foot of metal shielding and equipment. It just runs through a pipe that goes through the tunnel. Although if you need to get to one of the detectors, you won't get anywhere close."
"The pipe should work if anything will. Would it be possible to put some temporary detection spells on it to get some readings?"
He looked around cautiously. "I probably shouldn't, but yeah," he said. "If they're short-acting, and they don't interfere with the equipment too badly."
Van der Werf took her down to the beam line, and Hermione tried a few spells. Unfortunately, when she actually took her readings, she ran into the obvious problem.
"Damn, I was afraid of that," she groaned.
"What? Was your theory wrong?" van der Werf said nervously.
"No, no, not that. It's the fact that the antiprotons are ionising radiation independent of being antimatter. Ionising radiation interferes with magic, and I can't get a clear read on them. I'd need neutral antihydrogen to do that, but considering you can only make a few atoms at a time…"
"Oh, of course, your original paper," he said. He was refreshingly quick on the uptake. "Yes, I can see how that would be a problem. I'm sorry I can't help you any more than this…There might be a chance, though. If you come back in two years when we have ATHENA up and running, we'll be able to produce cold antihydrogen in bulk."
Hermione twitched. "Define 'cold' and 'bulk'," she said.
"We designed it to run at fifteen kelvin—below the critical point—and we're hoping for on the order of ten thousand atoms in a shot."
"Oh. That's…actually pretty close to what I need. Contact me when I can come and see it, will you?" she gave him her card. "And thank you for your help."
1 September 2000
Minerva McGonagall was ready for a new year at Hogwarts. It promised to be a good year, she thought. Finally, the echoes of the war were fading. The staffing lineup had stabilised with her three new permanent hires. She was grateful that Remus Lupin had agreed to come back, bringing his family with him. It had been a long time since they'd had young children visiting the school. She'd almost forgotten what it was like seeing a toddler run around the castle, but it was a nice change.
Minerva had also scored a major coup by finally getting rid of Binns. She'd had to reach out to the continent to find a replacement, but it would be well worth it.
And finally, she made one more major shake-up at the school. Looking back at the whole of the past decade and her part in it, she concluded with a heavy heart that she had not been as effective as she could have been, and it was because she'd been trying to take on too many duties. So she decided its was high time for Hogwarts to have a full-time Deputy Headmaster. For that position, she'd managed to convince Phoebus Penrose from the Ministry of Magic to join the school this year.
Maybe this would truly be a normal year. Wouldn't that be strange?
25 December 2000
Percy stood up at the Weasley Family's Christmas dinner with an important announcement. Audrey Sprayberry, the girlfriend he'd brought home a few months ago and whom he'd met during his brief stint as Acting Minister, stood up with him.
"Mum, Dad…the rest of you lot," Percy said.
"Oi!" Ron and Fred protested.
Percy ignored them. "We have some news for you," he continued. "Audrey and I are getting married next spring."
That got plenty of applause from the family. Molly practically squealed over the prospect of another daughter-in-law, of course. Ron, who was currently unattached, congratulated them politely.
Only Fred didn't look immediately happy for them. Instead, he looked around at the table and said, "Well…this is awkward."
"What do you mean? Why?" Percy demanded.
He broke into a grin: "Because Angelina and I are getting married, too."
1 July 2001
Georgina Vector, newly graduated of Hogwarts and the proud holder of an Outstanding N.E.W.T. in Arithmancy, stood tall as her heroine regarded her. She had expected some more ceremony for this—maybe a shadowy room where Arithmancers in billowing robes chanted…something. She wasn't sure where she was going with that. But instead, Hermione seemed relaxed. She had invited Georgina over to her and George's flat for dinner, and the place looked…lived in. Nothing fancy, even though they could afford it, with half-finished pranks and arithmancy projects stacked on one side table, with the promise of more in the back room. There were even a pair of house elves tending to a tiny, squeaking elf baby—house elves in proper clothes, no less.
"So, Georgina, you want to be my apprentice?" Hermione said. "You can relax by the way. We're friends."
Georgina tried to calm down. "Er, yeah," she said. "I want to follow Aunt Septima, and honestly, who else could do it but you, Hermione?"
"Oh, any Master Arithmancer could," she answered. "And keep in mind, I won't be like a normal mentor."
"I know! That's why I want to study with you—because you're the best in the world."
Hermione chuckled. "That might be true, but it also means I'll expect a higher standard of work from you. For any apprenticeship, it would mean three more years of education, and difficult years at that. But by my standards, your seventh year is when you're just starting to do real maths. You've only learnt the basics. And there'll be quite a bit of travel, too. We'll be investigating interesting arithmantic cases around the world. I'll need you as an assistant for that as much as an apprentice."
"Sure," Georgina said. "I understand." Plenty of masters made their apprentices do the menial tasks, or so the stories said. She was prepared for that.
"And there'll be some risk—not like in the war, but it will mean exploring old, abandoned buildings, possibly encountering curses and magical traps. And of course dementors. I'm still killing dementors regularly, and I'd be remiss if I didn't teach you that, too."
Her eyes widened. "You'd teach me how to kill dementors?"
"Do you know how many of those things there are around? I need more people to be able to kill them if we're ever going to be rid of them—people I can trust. Any apprentice of mine is going to need to be able to do that."
"Wow, that's great."
"Uh huh. You cay that now. But mostly importantly of all," Hermione said, "you should know, I have no idea what I'm doing."
She froze. "Uh…what?"
"If you want to do this, you need to know what you're getting into, Georgina, but the truth is, even I don't know yet. I'm still learning myself what being a professional arithmancer is like, and for being a freelance arithmancy consultant, along the lines of a cursebreaker? I'm completely making it up as I go."
"Oh…" Georgina said. "But you know the arithmancy, right? Even if you don't know what you're doing, I know you can teach. And even if the rest doesn't work out, your name on your resume will look pretty damn good. I'm sure about this."
Hermione nodded solemnly. "Very well. There will be restrictions, of course. Advanced arithmancy can be very dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. I've invented a lot of new techniques myself: atomic rearrangement, soul magic, analytic ritual-craft. You are not ready for those…In fact, you shouldn't even try to do spellcrafting on the fly like I do. That takes the same kind of mental discipline I use to do complex calculations in my head. I can teach you those skills, but it will take more time and effort, so don't go running off trying to do them on your own."
"Okay, Hermione, I get it," Georgina said. "I've seen what you can do. And I've heard stories of people who delved into things they weren't ready for. I'll be careful of my limits."
"Alright, then," she replied. "You know, I think its time I finally arranged that trip to Russia. I could use your help there."
"Ooh," George interrupted from the side of the room. "Making sure she serious?"
"A little. But I really have put it off too long."
Russia? What's the big deal about Russia? Georgina thought, but she answered, "Sure, I can do that."
"Excellent," Hermione said. "Welcome to the team…my young apprentice." George chuckled for some unknown reason.
"Yes…Mistress," Georgina said.
"Don't call me that."
18 July 2001
Hermione, George, Georgina, and Hagrid made up the group that entered the valley. They had considered both Grawp and Madam Maxime to join them, but the giants dealt with small groups better, and between Hagrid and Hermione, they should be able to deal with any trouble.
"Me and my big mouth," Georgina mumbled.
Most witches and wizards feared the giants, and with good reason. They were big, aggressive, and magic-resistant, and that meant bad news for any wizard anywhere near them. With Voldemort's half-dozen giants in his army, the Battle of Hogwarts could have gone much worse if Snape hadn't started using Killing Curses on them. No sensible person wanted anything to do with them.
And yet Hermione wanted to save them. Georgina had heard her mention this idea over the past three years, but she'd never explained it in detail to her until now. The giants were going extinct, she said. There were too few of them left to sustain a viable breeding population, and they would all be gone within their lifetimes. But the muggles, she claimed, had ways to save their race—to create new giants from nothing but their blood.
That was hard enough to believe, since it sounded like something only a powerful alchemist or a seriously dark ritual could do, but beyond that, Georgina just didn't see the point. "Why bother?" she'd said. "Just let them go—"
She was cut off by the most awful look she'd ever seen on Hermione's face—not angry, as terrifying as that was to see, but contemptuous and disappointed. To see that from her as either a friend or a mentor hurt. It was a small, probably unconscious glance as her scarred arm that made Georgina see her mistake. She apologised profusely, and she still feared Hermione would end her apprenticeship on the spot, but she didn't.
Hermione was silent for an uncomfortable long time, and then she said, "I don't think we think the same way, Georgina." And before Georgina could interrupt, she added, "I don't blame you. It's just that it's easy to forget sometimes that we do come from different worlds…I'm invoking my authority as your Arithmancy Mistress here. I could tell you all about it, but I think the trip itself will do you more good."
That felt a bit ominous. Georgina would have gone on the trip anyway, but that shut up any objections she'd had.
And she didn't like to think about it, but she thought Hermione was right. They didn't think the same way. What Voldemort and the Death Eaters had done to muggleborns—their fellow witches and wizards—was horrendous, and she wouldn't wish that on anyone, but if the giants died out on their own…well, she didn't have that visceral reaction that Hermione did. She just wasn't used to thinking about the giants like that.
Which was why Georgina was now descending the mountainside to the camp of the giants deep in the Ural Mountains, and she was shaking. This was not how she'd expected an arithmancy apprenticeship to go. She was already running on Pepperup since it wasn't safe to sleep near the giants' camp (not to mention the snoring could deafen you), so they had to keep a watch. And going to meet the giants really was dangerous. Hagrid had emphasised that very well.
"Don' use any magic unless it's an emergency," he'd said. "They don' like it. Don' surprise 'em. And when we walk up to them, keep yer eyes on the Gurg. That's the key: keep yer eyes on the Gurg. It's disrespectful if yeh don' before he recognises yeh, and the others won' bother yeh while he's talkin' to yeh."
That didn't make her feel any better. As they drew closer to the camp, some of the giants stomped out and roared in challenge, beating their breasts. It felt like an earthquake. But Hagrid was on it. He held up the roll of cloth high and called out, "We bring a gift for the Gurg!"
Some more roars sounded from around the valley, and after a minute, the giants backed off. The four of them walked forward and quickly located Hraudung, the Gurg, lounging beside the lake with a giantess beside him. He was massive. Grawp towered over Hagrid, but Hraudung would be half again as tall as Grawp if he stood up. Dutifully, Georgina kept her eyes on him as they approached, no matter how much the giants they were passing made her nervous.
They arrived before the Gurg, and Hermione snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground. Hagrid set the roll of cloth down in front of Hraudung. "Greetings, Gurg of the Giants," she announced. "I am Hermione Granger of Britain. I bring you a gift."
Nice and simple, like Hagrid said. You didn't want to confuse them because a confused giant was an angry giant. They stood motionless, watching Hraudung. Georgina itched to pull out her wand, or to look around and keep an eye on the other giants, but she didn't. In the corner of her eye, Hermione stood calmly, or was very good at faking it with Occlumency.
Hraudung roared something that sounded an animal braying at a deafening volume, and Georgina flinched, but she stood her ground. Moments later, another giant came over, shorter and leaner, but still big enough to make the ground shake when he walked. Hagrid nudged her with his boot when she started to look that way, and she quickly turned her eyes back to the Gurg.
"Gurg says, 'What did you say?'" the smaller giant rumbled.
Hermione repeated her greeting, word for word, and the smaller giant translated it into their deep, braying language. On hearing this, Hraudung's eyes lit up. He lazily rolled the cloth to him and inspected it. It was black, thick, and incredibly tough—not dragon-hide, but at least as strong physically and charmed against damage from casual or accidental contact with fire. It had taken a lot longer than Georgina had expected to make, too. Hraudung examined it, soon noting its strength, and he rumbled a question.
"Gurg says, 'What is it?'" the translator said.
"It's called nanofibre." Hermione enunciated the word. "I made it."
Hraudung passed the cloth around, though only to what seemed to be a trusted few. They also examined it and tested its strength. They had knives of some sort, but they still had a very hard time cutting it. Finally, the Gurg made a pronouncement.
"Gurg says, 'Nan Fibber is a good gift. I am pleased.'"
"Thank you, Gurg. I am glad," Hermione said. "I ask the Gurg to speak with us when we return tomorrow with another gift."
Hraudung agreed, and they left, walking backwards until they reached the edge of the camp and then continuing to a nearby cave. Georgina nearly collapsed as the adrenaline left her system. She hadn't even done anything, and she was completely on edge. "Bloody hell, is it always this tense?" she gasped.
"Worse when there were Death Eaters tryin' ter compete with us," Hagrid said. "I think that went well."
Georgina groaned and flopped onto her back.
19 July 2001
The second day in the mountains was nearly as tense as the first to start with. Hermione led the way down into the valley and presented their second gift, a giant-sized burning glass for starting fires, charmed unbreakable and made from…actually Georgina wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't normal glass, though. Hraudung seemed pleased that they'd done what they'd said, and he invited them to sit and talk. That was when things finally relaxed—as much as they could around giants, anyway.
Once they sat down, they were allowed to look around at the camp. It wasn't much. There were campfires and a few lean-tos, but most of the giants, if they had anything at all, slept on what looked like nests of small branches and leaves that actually must have taken serious time and patience to make. Apparently, they were big enough that the elements didn't bother them. Hermione claimed gorillas in Africa did the same thing, which again didn't inspire Georgina with confidence.
They stayed and spoke to the giants for a while. Hermione introduced the rest of them and explained the George was her husband, Georgina was her "servant," and Hagrid was the son of Fridwulfa, though hardly any of the giants remembered who she was. Then, they explained in simple terms that the new Ministry in Britain wanted to be friends with the giants and that all but one of the bad wizards were dead or captured. All of them said their piece then, including Georgina, which was nerve-wracking, but Hraudung and some of the others seemed to like what they had to say.
Hermione also carefully broached the topic of what life was like for them in the valley. This elicited the expected grumbling about it being too crowded and some of the giants not liking each other. Then came the first big play: they asked where the giants would like to go if some of them could leave and said they would talk to the Russian Ministry about doing it. This was risky because it wasn't certain they could follow through, but Hagrid took the lead there and explained it all in a way he claimed satisfied everyone. With that idea planted, they promised to come back with another gift tomorrow and left.
20 July 2001
Today, Georgina was far more relaxed than she'd expected, able to really pay attention now that the third meeting had started smoothly. Hermione's third gift had been a surprise—a hunch based on Grawp's love of the bits and bobs around his hut, especially the noise-making ones. It was a musical instrument: a set of tubular bells that was the size of a child's toy piano to Hraudung—big enough that Hagrid was needed to carry it. You could play it by flicking the little mallets that were attached, but the really magical part was that it was enchanted to play multiple songs on its own at the touch of a lever.
Hagrid thought it was a good idea, and Hraudung loved it. He also insisted on playing it and listening to it for quite a while before settling down to talk to them again, but they eventually got back to business.
"There aren't enough giants left," Hagrid explained it. "Yer all one tribe, and yeh can't get wives from other tribes like yeh should."
Hagrid had Dumbledore's old notes about the giants. Apparently, they used to practise exogamy to prevent inbreeding because they lived in such small tribes. But now, there was only one giant tribe left, even though it was bigger than normal, so they couldn't do that anymore, and inbreeding was worsening.
That was partly the Russian Ministry's fault for making them all live in one valley. Hermione had speculated that the Russian Ministry wanted them to go extinct, and Georgina could believe it. But of course, to someone like Hermione, that was Dark Lord stuff, and she wasn't going to stand for it.
"We have some of the old tribes," Hraudung said through his translator, and he rattled off some of their names in a feat of intellectual prowess that surprised Georgina. "We can still follow the Rules. What else can we do?"
"But tribes can die out," Hermione said. "Just like families for us. If something bad happens, and there are no more sons."
"I saw the tribal marks of the giants Voldemort took ter Hogwarts, Gurg," Hagrid said. "They were the last of Tribe Gogmagog, weren't they?"
They were? Georgina hadn't known that—or even what that meant. "Excuse me. What's…Tribe Gogmagog?" she spoke up.
"The giant tribe that lived in Wales before they were expelled," Hagrid said. "Me mum's tribe. I reckon they wanted ter go back fer revenge."
Through some gentle prodding, they eventually convinced Hraudung that he had a problem. He wasn't happy about that, but Hermione said she knew a solution.
"There's a new ritual called 'cloning,'" she said. "It uses giants' blood to make more giants. It's very powerful, and that means it takes a long time, but we know it works because people tried it on smaller animals. We can use cloning to make more giants who will be a different tribe. And if we have blood from many giants, it will make them stronger."
Slytherin that she was, Georgina was sure Hraudung would be suspicious of this whole thing—and not without reason. From what Hermione had described coming out here, she was massively overselling what cloning could do, but she was certain continued research and magical help would solve the problems. As for the giants, they looked a little leery, but the group had already proved their good intentions by bringing gifts, so that gave them a lot of trust.
Hermione explained what she needed, and Hraudung ordered his translator to try it first. It was simple, if mind-numbingly dangerous, and not for the giants. Hagrid cut the giant's palm with his super-sharp dagger, the one Hermione had given him that would cause very little pain, and Hermione collected a small phial of blood from the cut and labelled it.
Georgina got up and touched George's shoulder before they started. "I think we should be ready for trouble," she whispered to him. He looked around and quickly agreed. The two of them walked a short distance away to where they could draw their wands quickly in case the giants suddenly decided they didn't like this.
But the translating giant (they never had learnt his name) seemed okay with it. Then, Hraudung ordered another giant to give his blood, and they repeated the process. Through some cajoling and appeals to his pride, Hagrid soon convinced Hraudung himself to do it. Hermione was determined to collect the blood of every giant in the valley, and…honestly, it wouldn't take that long. There were so few of them.
That thought was what made Georgina see the whole situation with new eyes.
There were so few giants anymore. She looked around and really paid attention. The giants were a simple folk, but they were still people. Hraudung's conversation made that increasingly clear. Their size made them look more numerous than they were, but these few, sixty or so in number, were all that were left in the world. Worse, they were shunned by all, and they were battered and bruised, which according to Hagrid was from being forced to live in a (for them) confined space where they constantly butted heads with one another.
These were the last of a once-great race that spanned the globe: pushed to the margins of society, wanted killed by some, and then exploited by Voldmort for curse fodder, which lost them six or eight of their already small numbers. Even now, they were rapidly dying out with little chance to recover.
She didn't fully understand it, it came up on her so unexpectedly, but Georgina suddenly felt very sad about it. She began to see where she'd gone wrong with Hermione, and that something truly valuable would be lost if the giants were allowed to die out.
"Georgina?" Hermione said, breaking her out of her musings. She'd paused in her work, watching her with concern. "It's something wrong?"
Georgina collected herself. She knew what she needed to do. "How can I help?" she said.
14 September 2001
"Georgina, I need my notebook on Extension Charms," Hermione said. Her apprentice quickly retrieved it from her luggage and handed it to her, and she began leafing through it.
Harry was attempting to lighten the mood a bit, talking to some of MACUSA's Aurors. "It was right after we got here this morning," he said. "People were already asking for my autograph. I mostly ignored them, but then, this little kid came up to me and said, 'You're Harry Potter, the stunt flier!'"
Hermione and George both laughed inappropriately. The American wizards around them were stone-faced.
Ginny giggled a little: "I know it sounds daft, but Harry nearly started laughing and crying at the same time. It was the first time anyone's ever said that to him," she explained for the benefit of the bystanders.
"I'm sorry," Hermione composed herself. "Really. It's, er…that would have been a lot funnier in Britain."
"Eh, I can understand," one of the Aurors said. "Living lives like ours, you get by anyway you can. By the way, Mr. Potter, I believe we may be distant related. I'm Senior Auror Eliakim Potter."
Harry and Ginny both stared. "Er…pleased to meet you," Harry said. "I've never met another Potter before. We're the last ones in England."
Hermione let them catch up because at that moment, David Anderson from the American Arithmancy Association arrived to help her team. "It's good to see you again, Professor Anderson," she greeted him. "I wish it were under better circumstances."
"Indeed. Likewise, Professor Granger."
"Oh, and this is my apprentice, Georgina Vector," she introduced. Georgina shook his hand. "How bad was it here at MACUSA?"
"One wizard died," Anderson said. "Muggle-born. We're pretty sure he was in the North Tower right where the first plane hit and didn't have time to Apparate away. There was some damage to the upper floors of the Woolworth Building, but at least no pieces of the planes went through it. All the utilities are out, and of course, you can see the mess outside."
"Damn. I'm sorry to hear that," she said.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Anyway, I assume you've been told, we need to get the Woolworth Building in shape so we can keep running MACUSA out of it without attracting muggle attention. And it needs to be extra-safe for this afternoon. President Bush is coming to tour the site, and security's going to be a nightmare."
Hermione looked up. "Oh? I hadn't heard that bit. But I've been thinking about it." She showed him her notes. "Look here; there should be a way to overlap the spaces more seamlessly. Connect them to a switch like a muggle-worthy compartment in a suitcase instead of just hiding it behind a wall."
"Maybe. The power requirements, though…" Anderson said.
"They shouldn't be much more than you need to hide the magical part of the building anyway," Hermione said.
"Hmm…yes, I can see that. And it's mostly the areas around the doors we need to worry about anyway. Okay, I think we can implement this in the time we have. Come on, there are some folks from Magical Accidents and Catastrophes who are supposed to help us. Ah, and there probably aren't any here, but we need to keep an eye out: if we find any human remains, we're supposed to put them in evidence boxes, label them, and hand them to the muggle cleanup workers or police."
Hermione frowned. That reminded her uncomfortably of the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, but there was always going to be something somewhere. She and Harry had agreed to send a letter to MACUSA asking if they needed any help the day of the attacks. To their surprise (perhaps because they were war heroes), MACUSA said yes. Hermione was lending her Arithmancy experience. Anderson was right; it would be difficult. President Bush personally was in the know, but the Secret Service weren't and wouldn't be so easily distracted by the magical equivalent of, "Look over there!"
Harry mainly wanted to help people in need here, but MACUSA had him doing threat assessment. Ginny and George were helping with what cleanup there was in the magical part of the building and its surroundings. The debris clouds from the collapse had reached the Woolworth Building and beyond, so there was plenty to do there.
"I'm kind of surprised MACUSA's getting involved at all," Georgina said after everything was explained to them. "Everything I've heard says they take separation from muggles very seriously."
"I imagine it has something to do with the attack happening three blocks away from their own headquarters," Harry said. "And they're still hardly doing anything to help the muggles," he grumbled.
"I know you want to help, Harry, but it kind of is a muggle thing," Ginny said. "Not everything bad that happens is caused by dark wizards."
Hermione didn't like it much, either. She knew why it was necessary, but people needed help out there. "Well," she suggested, "when we have a bit more time, it seems like there's always a nest of dementors around somewhere that need killing. And Georgina needs the experience."
"Oh, that's right," Eliakim Potter said when he overheard. "You're the Demonslayer, aren't you, Ms. Granger?"
She raised her eyebrow. "Is that what they're calling me now?"
"Well, some people. Discovering how to kill dementors is no small feat."
"Hm. I'm not sure why I didn't expect to get that from humans," she admitted. "Now, the dementors, of course—my reputation has spread among them?"
"Really? How do you know?"
"The last nest of dementors I cleared out? They'd heard of me. When I walked in, they panicked and said, 'It's the Angel of Death.'"
Auror Potter whistled long. "Damn," he said. "When even the demons call you that, you must be doing something right. I'd like to see that."
"Well, maybe in a few days when things calm down in New York, we can arrange something. George? Are you interested in staying a bit longer?" she called.
"I think we can squeeze it in," he agreed.
It seemed like a good plan, and they made arrangements. The next morning, however, Harry and Ginny announced they were going home early for health reasons.
"Is something wrong?" George asked with concern.
"I'm pregnant," Ginny said.
31 October 2001
The good mood lasted six weeks.
Molly was over the moon, of course. This was only her second grandchild. Sirius and Remus tried to give Harry a celebratory cigar as a joke, which Ginny was not happy about. Remus was also excited because he and Tonks were already expecting their second, so their child would have a friend going to Hogwarts. Although that didn't portend well for Hogwarts.
Things were going pretty smoothly until Arthur burst into Hermione's and George's flat from a dreary Halloween rain. He was out of breath and looked pale as a ghost.
"Arthur?" she gasped.
"Hermione, you're needed at the Ministry. Now," he said.
"Dad? What happened? Is someone hurt?" George said.
"Not yet, but it's bad. There's been a mass breakout at Azkaban!"
Hermione blinked in confusion. "But there are no prisoners in Azkaban."
"Not prisoners. Dementors! Over five hundred dementors smashed through the wards and scattered all over the North Sea."