Chapter Twelve
The Ministry of Magic was teeming with activity when Hermione arrived the next morning. Ministers, Aurors, and staff members, were rushing about with an air of self-importance that Hermione found laughable. Not one of them had any clue how to fix the mess the wizarding world had become. They were simply trying to stick a giant bandage over the whole nightmare, in the hopes that it would go away. If they'd asked, she could've told them that it wouldn't work. That it would never work. But they would only look at her with mild distaste, and tell her that a muggleborn would never truly understand the magical world and its politics.
Hermione sighed and weaved her way past swishing robes and muttered conversation. She was alone, having left both Scabior and George back at the tent to fend for themselves. She was more than grateful for that. She had no wish to be anywhere near the Snatcher. Not after the kiss.
Or, as she was now calling it: The Mistake.
And it was. A huge, stupid, awful mistake. One she didn't have any excuse for. Not like with Ron. Where the euphoria of destroying the Horcrux had overcome them, and resulted in a reckless kiss. All she'd felt during that wet press of lips was relief mixed with regret. Relief, because they'd just destroyed a part of Voldemort's soul. And regret, because she hadn't felt anything but soft skin. She could honestly have been snogging her own arm. That feeling of regret had only increased when she'd seen Ron's wide-eyed look of awe. She'd known instantly that he'd felt something that she never would.
That was until last night, and The Mistake. Hermione had definitely felt something when she'd kissed Scabior. A restless, needy something that she didn't have a word for. That feeling had only increased when he'd taken control and showed her what a skilled kiss could make you feel. And that's why it was a mistake. That feeling. It was dangerous and had trouble stamped all over it. Hermione Granger could not fall for a Death Eater.
Her plan now was to pretend that it hadn't happened. Not that it would be easy. What with the knowing smirk Scabior had been sending her way all morning. But that was exactly what she was going to do. Ignore it. Deny it. And never, EVER, let it happen again.
The churning thoughts circling her brain, quietened down, and she was able to breath a little easier. At last she was able to focus on her meeting with Kingsley and not the Mistake. She made her way to a flight of stairs and began to climb. She was halfway up when she first noticed the tension filling the air. She slowed, catching snippets of the conversations going on around her.
"...it's only a matter of time before he's gone..."
"...need someone new..."
"...can't trust his decisions..."
"...heard the rumours about..."
"Look it's Harry Potter's friend."
Hermione's startled gaze rose to meet the eyes of the female Auror who'd spoken. She didn't look much older than her, maybe two, three years. She had pale blonde hair and sea blue eyes. Next to her stood another Auror, the same age, but this time male. He, too, had blonde hair, but darker, more wheat coloured, and his eyes were a muddy brown. Hermione didn't recognise either of them from Hogwarts.
She offered a shy smile.
They returned it with a sneer.
And she returned that with her back.
Things never changed. She sighed and resumed her walk to Kingsley's office. This time she ignored the people around her. Instead, she counted her steps. It took five hundred and seventy four to get there.
Tabitha Burlap, Kingsley's secretary, was sitting behind a tiny wooden desk. As soon as she spotted Hermione, she leapt to her feet and ran towards her.
"Hello! I'm so pleased to see you again!"
Hermione smiled politely, "it's good to see you too, Mrs Burlap." She held out her hand for the older witch to shake.
Burlap grabbed a hold and used it to pull Hermione into an unexpected hug instead. Hermione blinked and awkwardly patted the petite witche's back, whilst trying not to breathe in the cloyingly sweet smell of her perfume. For some reason she reminded Hermione of Dolores Umbridge. Not that she wore pink or was fond of cats or anything, but there was just something about her. Like she was too eager to please.
Hermione pulled away, "Minister Shacklebolt is expecting me." She gently nudged Burlap back towards her desk.
"Of course!" She rushed to the Minister's door and entered without knocking.
Seconds later she reappeared. "He'll see you now, Dear."
Hermione nodded and made her way over to the Minister's office. She passed Burlap, who remained by the door and entered Kingsley's cluttered workspace. She was again drawn into another hug, this one more welcome, before perching herself on a wobbly chair.
"Thank you Tabitha," Kingsley said, taking his seat. "If you wouldn't mind closing the door?" He waited until the door swung shut before switching his attention back to Hermione, "are things going to plan?"
The witch nodded, "yes. I know the location of the Revel. Swinside circle. The Lake District. And one of the Death Eaters wanted a book on summoning"
"You think they plan to try and bring back Voldemort?"
Hermione eased forward, making the chair lift and almost tipping her onto the floor, "I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter even if they try. They won't be able to bring him back. His soul is gone, his body is gone, he's gone."
Kingsley frowned and folded his hands, "I agree, can the information you heard be trusted?"
She hesitated, "I wouldn't fully trust any words that fall from a Death Eater's mouth. But I'm honestly not sure we'll have much choice."
The Minister swiped a hand across his face. "I'm afraid you may be right." His hand dropped to the desk, "I'll inform the Order and we'll go from there."
Hermione agreed. This wasn't a decision they could make on their own. It was too big for that.
"Have you heard anything about this new Dark Lord?" She asked.
Kingsley looked troubled for a moment, "No, but I'll continue to ask around."
"And what about the other Order members? Are they any nearer to tracking the Death Eaters?" Hermione said.
The Minister tapped the desk. "I spoke to Remus last night and he said they were ready to begin rounding them up within the next few days."
Hermione's heart clenched in fear and a familiar worry crept up on her. The one she'd constantly lived with during her time at Hogwarts. It wasn't for herself, she never had time for that, but for the people around her. Friends and family. Those awful sleepless nights would return. Her thoughts would be filled with Ron. Ron who didn't even search a room when he was looking for someone. Ron who wouldn't have her or Harry to keep an eye on him.
"And how goes your hunt?"
Hermione blinked herself back to the present, "Ah...we'll know more after the Revel, I think."
"Scabior?"
"Fine...umm, he's behaving," she said fighting the blush rising to her cheeks. "That's all I can say for now."
The Minister smiled wryly. "Molly was...upset...when she learnt of George's injury."
"Only upset?" Hermione said sarcastically. "Well that at least is a relief!"
Kingsley chuckled, a warm dry sound that eased her nerves. "Yes, you may wish to prepare yourself for the next time you see her."
Hermione grimaced, dreading seeing the Weasley matriarch again. She drew in a deep breath and eyed the Minister. He looked tired. From the new lines bracketing his mouth to his robes that hung just a little bit looser. She though about the stuff she'd heard on the way up. That strange tension that hung in the air.
"How are things here?" She asked softly.
Kingsley winced and that was all the answer she needed, "they get worse everyday." He flipped a dark hand at the papers surrounding him, "my staff seek to drown me in paperwork, they question my every decision and when they aren't arguing with me, they're spreading rumours."
"What kind of rumours?" Hermione asked, a warning bell clanging in the back of her head.
"Dangerous ones." Kingsley muttered.
"Do they know about Scabior? About the binding curse?" She asked.
Kingsley shook his head, "not yet, but I suspect it will only be a matter of time before they do."
"And when that happens?" She said.
"Let's hope it never does." He grimaced when he saw Hermione's alarmed look, "I will be Minister no longer, and at this point it will actually be a relief, Miss Granger."
"But if they find out about the curse, they'll put you in Azkaban!"
He shook his head, "that will never happen. They may find out about Scabior's release, but they have no reason to suspect me of using Dark Magic."
Hermione wanted to feel reassured, but his words felt hollow and forced. "But you have to remain as Minister! We need someone in charge who'll treat all magical folk equally!"
Kingsley smiled sadly. Really more of a stretch of lips than a smile. "I am starting to doubt that day will ever come."
They both stared miserably at the parchment strewn desk. After a few moments in which Hermione honestly felt like she would burst into tears, she remembered the promise she'd made to herself about mentioning Azkaban. It seemed pointless to say anything about it now, she doubted Kingsley would have the power to implement any changes, but she couldn't not say something.
"Minister?"
Kingsley's eyes rose to meet hers. "Yes?"
"The prisoners at Azkaban are being tortured," She said it all in one rushed breath.
"I know." he replied bitterly. "Simbleton informed me. I have ordered an investigation, but it will not take place for at least six months."
"Six months?! That's outrageous!"
"I agree: my Minister's do not." He said, more bitterly than before.
Hermione scowled down at her shoes. Why the hell was she fighting for these people? Were they really worth it any more?
"Miss Granger?"
Kingsley's voice broke through her depressing thoughts. "Do you need anything? It would be prudent to get it now if you did."
She closed her eyes. Were things really that bad? They must be or he wouldn't have said. Her lips tightened as she began to make a mental list. "I could use a couple more portkeys. I also need to restock our healing potions and whatever books you have on Snatchers." At his raised eyebrows she elaborated, "I want to know exactly how they track someone. Is it magic? Or instinct? Or just guess work?"
"Of course," Kingsley said sounding amused, "perhaps a visit to the vaults are in order?"
"Yes. Thank you," she said.
The Minister rose from behind his desk, "I'll have someone escort you." He ducked out of the office for a moment, leaving Hermione and her churning thoughts alone. Worry nibbled at her, but she ignored it, focusing instead on her task of finding Bella and Peter. Once they were behind bars, she could concentrate her efforts on making the magical world a fairer place to live. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she would get Ron and Harry to help.
She was still thinking about what she would need to do when Kingsley returned, followed by an Auror.
"Hermione you remember Auror Pippit?"
"Yes, how are you?" She said, grinning at the dark haired wizard.
He smiled politely, "I'm fine thank you, yourself?"
"Good." She turned to Kingsley, "I'll see you soon?"
"Yes. I'll contact you in a few days," He drew her into another hug, "be careful," he whispered into her ear so only she could hear.
Hermione nodded and pulled away. Before the office door closed she saw the Minister drop tiredly into his chair and slump his shoulders in defeat. When she turned away from the sight, she came face to face with Burlap. The older witch was grinning at her and she looked on the verge of pulling Hermione into a hug again.
"It was nice seeing you again Mrs Burlap, goodbye," Hermione quickly said, side stepping the witch and frantically waving for Pippit to start walking.
The Auror smiled, "If you'll follow me Miss Granger?" He said backing out of the room.
"Yes, of course!" She rushed after him. "Thanks," she muttered when she caught up.
He glanced down at her, "not a fan of Mrs Burlap?"
Hermione grimaced, "it's not that, she's just so...grabby. I don't even know the woman, we've only met three times and she treats me like we've known each other forever!"
"She can be a little enthusiastic," he said wryly. "So, what brings you here today?"
Hermione ducked her head. "Just visiting," she said, hating to lie to him. Pippit was one of the good guys. Every time they'd met he'd always been incredibly kind to her. She knew he was one of the few people that Kingsley trusted within the Ministry. He also happened to be quite handsome. With dark brown, almost black hair, and deep brown eyes that glowed with intelligence. He couldn't be more than five years older than her.
He didn't ask her any further questions as they made their way down to the vaults. Perhaps knowing she wouldn't, or couldn't, answer him. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable between them, it never had been, ever since they met four weeks ago. Hermione was hoping that she could get to know him a little better after Bella and Peter were captured. But not yet. She had too much going on to be thinking those thoughts.
The Ministry vaults were located in the basements. Huge cave like rooms with row upon row of shelves stacked with all manner of things. It was cold and dimly lit and Hermione could have happily gotten lost in there for days. There didn't appear to be any sort of order to the vast amount of items. They were just placed in the area that they matched. Dark items to dark magic, potions to the massive table that ran along the back, even stray wands had their own shelf.
In charge of it all was a pale wizard with washed out grey eyes and cropped grey hair. His hands were spidery and constantly moved. He was in his mid fifties and had repulsive breath. But he was clever, far too clever for Hermione's liking.
He grinned when he saw them, offering Hermione a half bow. "Miss Granger, a real pleasure to see you once more, and you've brought Mr Pippit with you."
Hemione smile politely. "Hello, Mr Larson, how are you?"
"I'm well. All the better for seeing you my dear. I get so few visitors down here you know." His cool voice echoed off the distant walls.
Beside her Pippit shuddered. She didn't blame him. Larson had that affect on people. He was like the boogeyman come to life. It was the way he looked at you. Like he could climb into your skin, and make you do all manner of things. It had earned him the name of puppet master. Only ever whispered behind his back, never to his face.
"Minister Shacklebolt said I may collect a few things," Hermione said, shifting closer to Pippit.
Larson tipped his head. "Of course, my dear. What is it you need?" His hands fluttered towards the shelves beyond him.
"Oh, no. That's quite all right, I can find whatever I need myself." She headed towards the nearest shelves, "Thank you."
As she disappeared Pippit gave her a filthy look, which made her want to giggle. It wasn't as if she'd have it any easier searching amongst the potentially explosive items stacked around her. First she headed to the right where the portkeys were stored.
The watery light dimmed the further she got from Larson's desk, but not enough that she needed to cast. She ignored the shelves as she passed, knowing that if she stopped to look, she'd lose several hours very easily. The portkeys were kept in a large glass fronted cabinet. There must have been at least a thousand inside, each one different from the next. A small piece of parchment lay underneath each portkey, letting the user know where it was keyed to spit them out. Hermione dithered for a moment, and then decided to pick two at random. The first, a pebble, was for a coastal town in the north west of Scotland, and the second, a pine cone, would take them to a forest in Wales. She carefully tucked them in her bag and made her way to the potions table.
It took her several minutes to get there. And when she did, it was to see that new stock had been added. She knew because the bottles were clean and free of dust. The table was long. Longer even than the ones at Hogwarts and full to bursting. She took five each of; anti burn, pain relief, sleeping draught, scar cream, and bruise dissolver. They were all placed in the bottom of her bag, next to the portkeys.
Lastly she went in search of a book on Snatchers. She'd looked the last time she was here, more out of curiosity than need, but had been unable to find one. She didn't want to ask Larson. Scabior helping them was supposed to be a secret. And she didn't trust the puppet master to keep it.
In the end she spent an hour searching and finding not one thing. Not even a reference. She sighed and gave up, aware of Pippit's increasingly loud voice. Clearly he was ready to leave. The bookworm in her begged to take a few of the more interesting titles, Kingsley had given her permission after all, but she didn't want him accused of showing favouritism to her. Even if he was.
Pippit's look of relief when she emerged was hilarious. He actually ran towards her.
"Are you finished?" He asked.
Hermione smiled, "Yes." She turned to Larson, who was sitting behind his desk, "I took some potions and a couple of Portkeys." She didn't actually have to tell him what she'd taken but she was too much of a rule follower not to. Besides the moment they left he'd be walking the stacks to see what was missing.
His eyebrow arched, "no books?"
Hermione shook her head and fought the urge to flush. Not because she was lying, she hadn't taken any books, but she'd wanted to. And Larsen knew that.
He gave her a secret, almost intimate smile, "then perhaps you'll take this one." He withdrew a small leather bound book from beneath his robes and held it out to her.
She didn't want to take it. But Larsen had the knack for giving her books that were full of some very interesting stuff. He was the one who'd steered her towards the sections on dark magic that had led her to the books that contained the spells that Bella had used.
Reluctantly she took the book. Almost recoiling when she felt the oily texture touch her skin. She put it in her bag with the rest and gave Larsen a smile, "Thank you."
His hands curled and fell to his side. "You are most welcome. Please come see me again soon."
Hermione nodded but didn't verbally agree. She very much doubted that she would be welcome at the Ministry once Kingsley was displaced. And that was looking to be sooner than they'd anticipated.
Pippit practically ran out of the vaults, Hermione rushing to keep up with him. By the time they reached the upper floor she was laughing. "You're supposed to be a big bad Auror!" She gasped.
"I am! Just not around Larsen," he answered.
"He is pretty scary," Hermione said, becoming aware of the looks being sent her way. Not all of them were friendly. "Well, I should be going," she said backing away from Pippit.
"Maybe I'll see you around?" He asked, a slight blush staining his cheeks.
"I'd like that," Hermione said, giving him a small wave, before disappearing behind a large purple-robed witch.
The smile refused to leave her face the entire day. Helped in part because she was able to keep out of the Snatcher's way.
