Thanks to s and h forever for her undying faith in this story, or, as we like to call it, my baby.
Thanks also, to those of you who have reviewed. I would love to hear from more of you!
"You're moving too fast for me, and I can't keep up with you. Maybe if you'd slow down for me, I could see you're only telling lies… When will you learn?" (Lies, by Glen Hansard)
If Harry, Ron, and Hermione had held any hopes for a calming of activity in the weeks following their final flight from Privet Drive, the Golden Trio was sorely mistaken. On the contrary, it felt as if time itself were speeding up and there were fewer and fewer hours in each passing day. It had started almost the second they arrived safely at the Burrow. Plans were quickly being made, remade, and carried out in preparation for Bill and Fleur's fast approaching wedding. Molly Weasley's sixth sense of motherhood was in overdrive, and having the distinct feeling that they were up to something, she had Harry, Ron, and Hermione doing every task imaginable around the house.
About mid-week, on Harry's birthday, in fact, their celebrations were interrupted by a visit from the current Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. Without any interpersonal conversation, inquiries as to the Weasley family's health, or gratitude for their forced acceptance of him into their home, the Minister demanded a conference with the Gryffindor Golden Trio. The three friends weren't very obliged to meet his request; there was something in Scrimgeour's demeanor that seemed highly suspect. After Dumbledore's death, they had all been put on edge, not knowing who their true allies were. Each of them made a mental note to be on guard, especially against the Ministry; the agency had betrayed their trust far too many times. Over the past years, they had enough experiences with various politicians in the Ministry to know the sort of tactics they utilized. Harry, especially, was sure that Scrimgeour would likely criticize someone or something he, Ron, and Hermione felt strongly about, in order to incriminate them with their exuberant defenses. As would be expected, they were hardly looking forward to Scrimgeour's attempts to manipulate them, and the three friends followed him quietly into the room which Molly deigned acceptable for such a meeting.
"Well," Scrimgeour began, almost monotone in his formality, "I have some very pressing matters to discuss with each of you. Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, if you'd please wait outside, I'd like to begin with –"
Hermione cut the Minister off abruptly, not even bothering to think that she was interrupting one of the most powerful wizards in Great Britain. "I will do no such thing, Minster! I'm sick of being trifled with; you can have nothing to say to which we couldn't all be privy."
Ron and Harry both stared at her in quiet amazement; they hadn't seen this much confrontational passion from her since the morning she had punched Malfoy in class.
"Fine," Scrimgeour acquiesced tersely, clearly not in the mood to argue. "Since you're so apt to speak up, I'll start with those matters pertaining specifically to you, then. Miss Granger, describe your interactions with the recently-in-hiding Severus Snape. I understand that he was your independent study advisor; we found the necessary academic credit forms among Dumbledore's possessions. I'm sure you can deduce that working in such close proximity to a turncoat renders you suspicious as well. Nothing a little elaboration can't clear up, I'm sure."
Hermione availed herself of a sharp intake of breath. Of all the things she had considered being questioned about, Severus was not one of them. She had never thought that her loyalties would be called into question; she had been just as betrayed by him as the rest of the wizarding community. She responded to the Minister's inquiry quite plainly, albeit slightly fabricating the truth.
"There was nothing more than what you saw on the forms. I undertook an independent study in Potions and became Professor Snape's apprentice. I created a potion currently being utilized by the Order of the Phoenix and, most likely, would have succeeded in the development of a second if my studies hadn't been interrupted by Dumbledore's untimely murder." She looked into Scrimgeour's eyes throughout her entire response, hoping that he saw her determined resolve to acquit herself.
"That was all, Miss Granger? I merely ask because in earlier, more primitive times of wizarding history, mentors were allowed certain… liberties with their apprentices. It was all contractual and unavoidable, mind you. The accepted norms of apprenticeships have certainly changed since then; however, some professors see fit to continue the practice."
Hermione smirked at the way Scrimgeour had tried to talk his way around his accusation, as if he were afraid of being too explicit. She seriously doubted that the Minster was trying in any way, shape, or form, to be delicate with her; she wasn't about to let him make her feel uncomfortable. Luckily, Hermione had no problem being frank.
"No, Minister. I never, during the time of my study or otherwise, had strictly sexual relations with Severus Snape, in any capacity."
Harry and Ron audibly gasped. Clearly, they hadn't been paying attention to Scrimgeour's line of questioning; they had no idea as to what he had been implying. They were, however, certainly relieved to hear Hermione's resounding 'no'.
The Minister arched an eyebrow at Hermione's response in a fashion quite reminiscent of Severus Snape himself. "So, you would consent to a medical examination by the staff at St. Mungo's?"
Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock, and she clenched her fists in rage. "I most certainly would not!" she exclaimed, her voice rising steadily in volume. "I have absolutely nothing to hide, Minister, but I refuse to debase my body to fulfill your superfluous request. If you would care to use Legilimency to prove my virginity, so be it. But I will not put myself on display for the sake of your twisted investigation. I was just as surprised by Professor Snape's betrayal as the next Hogwarts student. I had no prior knowledge of his plans and, like Dumbledore, thought him to be a faithful spy for the Order. If he and I had the sort of deep relationship you imply, do you really think he'd leave me here while he's kicking back with Voldemort?" She smiled vengefully at the way Scrimgeour flinched when she said the name. "I thought not." Hermione finally sat back in her chair defiantly, silently daring the Minister to press the subject further.
"Legilimency will not be required," the Minster replied curtly. "I have no reason to doubt your testimony. Now, let us move on to the more pressing issue at hand. Miss Granger, I'll start with you again. Could you please explain to me why Albus Dumbledore would leave you his copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard in his will? And why he would see it fit to leave you a book completely written in Ancient Runes?"
"Well I suspect that…" Hermione stopped short after actually comprehending the question. "Wait, his will?" The surprise in her voice was evident.
"Yes, Miss Granger, you heard me correctly. I was not surprised to discover that he left some things of value to Mister Potter, here, but I was a little stunned when I saw both you and Mister Weasley mentioned. Out of the thousands of students Albus Dumbledore came in contact with during his years at Hogwarts, he only mentioned the three of you in his will. I want to know why."
Hermione was quickly becoming perturbed by the nasty tone with which Scrimgeour was speaking to her. Her self-control failed her as she responded to his comments with disdain. "I suppose you only thought to ask us now, nearly a month after his death, because the thirty-one days you are allowed by law to retain our items have expired. Am I right, Minster? I know all about your bloody law. You figured we were partners in some sort of conspiracy with Dumbledore and that he was sending us signals embedded in the items he left us, didn't you? You could only keep our items if you were investigating them for signs of Dark magic. I can only assume you found nothing, seeing as you're here with us today."
"You're certainly well read, aren't you?" Scrimgeour rebutted violently.
"I like to keep myself informed, Minister. I can only assume that's the very reason Dumbledore left me the book of which you speak. He saw it fit to look after my education by initiating my independent study, so he must have thought I would generally enjoy the book. He knew that I practically live in the library when classes are in session. I took Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, so the Headmaster must have thought I'd appreciate the challenge of translating it. As for Ron and me being mentioned in the will, I'm sure our close relationship with Harry endeared us to him."
Scrimgeour frowned in defeat, unable to find any holes in Hermione's explanation, and passed her the book. Hermione found herself incredibly touched but confused by the late Headmaster's gift. Albus was a master of ulterior motives, and Hermione was certain there was, in fact, some sort of message in each of their gifts. Hermione eagerly waited to hear what had been left to Harry and Ron.
"Mister Weasley," the Minster continued slowly. "Apparently, Dumbledore wanted to you to come in to possession of his Deluminator, for you to, and I quote, 'remember him when you use it'."
"That's odd –" Ron immediately replied. "I wouldn't even say Dumbledore and I were –" The rest of his thought was cut off prematurely, as Hermione kicked him underneath the table at which they were all seated. Clearly, he hadn't picked up on her subtle exaggeration of the sort of relationship she and Ron had with Dumbledore. He began to improvise. "- even talking about his Deluminator recently. He must have thought I would find it useful in sneaking around Hogwarts. Though he never said so himself, he always seemed to silently approve of all the trouble the three of us wandered into."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Ron's impromptu answer, impressed that it made sense. She was sure Scrimgeour would be satisfied.
"Very well," he snapped, as he tossed Ron the Deluminator. "No matter. If Dumbledore is, in fact, sending you messages through these gifts, I'm sure we'll be given explicit proof with this next item." Scrimgeour looked at the Golden Trio vengefully, as though he had already found them all guilty of some tremendous crime. Slowly, as if meaning to increase the already palpable tension in the room, he pulled a tiny Golden Snitch out of the bag he carried with him.
Ron and Harry looked at the Minister confusedly, but Hermione instinctively knew from where Scrimgeour's confidence had stemmed.
"Of course," Hermione whispered, "the flesh memories."
"Flesh memories?" Harry questioned, facing Hermione while keeping Scrimgeour in his peripheral vision. "What are you talking about?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. She was quickly getting tired of having to explain things to people. She had more important things to worry about, like the book Dumbledore had left her. "It's a defining feature of Snitches, Harry. It's an enchantment, actually. Snitches are never touched by bare human hands before the games during which they are played. The enchantment allows the Snitch to identify the first person who touches it. The identification process has been used very rarely but was very effective in a handful of Quidditch matches to determine the outcome of disputed captures."
"That's actually a brilliant idea! But why would this matter to Dumbledore?" Harry looked back towards the Minister, not liking where the conversation was going at all. Scrimgeour looked far too happy for Harry to be comfortable.
"Because, Potter, the bodies of Snitches have the required space in which to hide small objects, like messages. This Snitch is the one you caught during your very first Quidditch match at Hogwarts. If there is, as I suspect, something inside of it, it will open at your touch. So… here you are, Harry." Scrimgeour held out his palm, the Golden Snitch resting gently in it.
Harry felt sick to his stomach. He could think of no way to avoid accepting Dumbledore's gift from the Minister. He was sure Scrimgeour was right about the Snitch; there was little doubt in his mind that the items the Minister presented to each of them were specifically chosen by Dumbledore in order to send information about Voldemort's Horcruxes. If Harry refused to take it, or made some attempt to cover his hand when reaching for it, Scrimgeour's suspicions would be given credibility. The last thing Harry wanted was for some sort of formal investigation to be initiated against them; not only would it deter their quest to destroy Voldemort, it would likely deliver them into the hands of the Dark Lord himself. For years, Harry had believed that the Ministry was being corrupted, and now that Dumbledore was gone, it seemed to be an obvious assumption that Voldemort would make some move to gain control over the Ministry. Harry wasn't willing to take that sort of chance and slowly extended his arm to receive the Snitch. He held his breath as the tiny, golden ball fell into his palm, waiting for it to open. He waited, but nothing came. The Snitch merely continued to flutter its wings within Harry's grasp. He looked up to smirk at the Minister.
"Well, then. Now that we've taken care of your delusions, we'll just be going…" Harry's response tapered off as he, Hermione, and Ron stood to leave. Their movements were interrupted by Scrimgeour, who bade them to sit down.
"Oh, I think you'll want to stick around, Potter. Dumbledore left you something else. I'd ask you to guess what it is, but I doubt you'd have the foresight to think of it."
Harry acted with indifference towards this snide jab at his intelligence and simply stared back at the Minister. "Alright, what is it, then?" Harry was losing patience with Scrimgeour; it was becoming difficult for him to be polite.
"The sword of Godric Gryffindor." The Minster sat back and watched the looks of amazement creep over the faces of the Golden Trio. Hermione's audible gasp drew his attention, and Scrimgeour began his questioning once more.
"Does that mean something to you, Miss Granger?"
"No, Minister," Hermione replied truthfully. "It's just a very valuable item."
"Indeed," Scrimgeour remarked snidely.
Hermione flinched as his tone reminded her of the countless bantering conversations she had with Severus during their time together. However, there was no jest present in the Minister's comment; theirs was not a friendly exchange. She was about to retort, but Harry's interjection cut her off.
"Yes, we all know it's valuable. So, where is it?" Harry was looking forward to getting on with his birthday celebration. He would need some sort of diversion after this uncomfortable encounter.
"Unfortunately, I do not have it for you."
Harry continued to stare at Scrimgeour, not amused in the least. It was clear that the Minister did not consider his news to be unfortunate, and his words offered no sentiment of remorse. He raised an eyebrow as Scrimgeour continued.
"The sword is not actually Dumbledore's to bequeath. Yes, Potter," he was forced to stop his narrative to address Harry's look of questioning, "I'm well aware that the sword 'chose you' your second year at Hogwarts. However, the lore of the sword dictates that it may present itself to any worthy and courageous Gryffindor. It seems, in this light, that you are not as remarkable as may be assumed. The sword no more belongs to you than it does to Dumbledore."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Hermione exclaimed, her frustration getting the better of her. She looked up quickly and stared wide-eyed at Harry. "I just said that out loud, didn't I?"
"Why, yes you did, Miss Granger," the Minister noted before Harry or Ron had a chance to respond to Hermione's question. "I must admit that I find this hostility from the three of you rather off-putting. I believe I've served my purpose here. Do try to work on your social skills; it is generally in bad taste to spout off expletives and snide remarks while entertaining company. You ought to remind yourselves of that, Miss Granger, Mister Potter. Well, I'll see myself out, then. Do keep yourselves out of trouble; we'll be watching you."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't even turn around as the Minister left the room behind them; they were far too infuriated by his threats and insults to care. After several minutes of contemplative silence, Hermione turned in the direction of her two best friends.
"What the fuck just happened?"