a/n: From this point forward we're embarking together on a new adventure; I can't wait to share it with you! Here goes nothing. By the way, I borrowed the word Wizardkind and shortened it to wizkind in order to refer to magical people, so that I don't have to write witches and wizards every time.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything is J.K. Rowling's.

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~ The Crotalus Case ~

1. The visitor.

''Great, just perfect'' The witch grumpily mumbled to herself, as she swiped the dirt off her scraped kneecaps, and stretched her arm out to reach the stack of books that had slipped out of her hands in the graceless tumble. She silently cursed herself for opting for the knee-length skirt in detriment of her sensible work trousers that morning. Without looking up to see who had so unceremoniously crashed against her and her tower of books, Hermione picked up the last volume and started speaking.

''You really should watch where you're going, you know, it's not like I was hard to miss!''

She realized she had spoken like a jerk, and she felt a little guilty about the outburst, but the weight of the past weeks was pressing heavily on her shoulders and now the tiny sharp rocks in the gravel were painfully stabbing her shin and knees, and her precious borrowed books were all scattered aimlessly around her, and she really did not have the spare effort to try to care any more.

However, her accidental aggressor caught her off guard when an informal, familiar chuckle slipped out of him. A calloused hand appeared in front of her face for her to take and she blinked once as she stared a it. Then she snapped her head up.

''Harry!'' She exclaimed as she cast a levitating spell on her books and hastily grabbed his forearm to pull herself up into his arms. The wizard tumbled a little under her weight. ''Oh, dear Circe I'm mortified. Forget you just heard that, yes?''

As she spoke, Hermione pulled back from her friend's embrace and held her hands up to his face affectionately, taking in his appearance. His charcoal hair was as ruffled as ever and his tilted, round glasses still hung from his nose in the same haphazard way.

Harry laughed softly and rested his hands on her shoulders. ''That's alright, Mione. We both know you can be a bit of a brat when you want to.''

Hermione slapped his shoulder playfully and bit her lip. ''Arse.''

He responded by shrugging innocently.

His creased, deep blue uniform made his tan skin stand out more than usual; the rigid, high collar of the coat covered close to the totality of his neck and glimmered lightly under the afternoon sun, the light reflecting off the golden thread embroidery which decorated its sides and back elegantly. Hermione thought new Auror uniforms were indeed something to behold.

''Merlin, it's been too long! How are you holding up? Is everything going well?''

Oblivious at first, she now took him in a little more insistently, and noticed the purplish circles under his eyes and the slight hollow of his cheeks. She sighed lightly, concerned. ''Oh, Harry…''

''It's alright, 'Mione. Merlin, it's like you can read my mind, I swear.'' The wizard pushed his glasses slightly upwards and cleared his throat.

They'd bumped against each other right at the aperture of a small but crowded corridor of the Ministry that led straight to the ground-level outdoor patio. The new instalment had been built after the War; it was a large, round garden centred around the Hallows Monument; a grand sculpture dedicated to those whose lives were lost in the War. It towered amidst a garden of blooming roses and white daisies, representing the three Deathly Hallows in three angular bronze structures lined one after the other. First the stone, then the cloak, and lastly, the wand. Around it, various trails of lavender bushes formed eight paths leading straight to the sculpture. Around the patio, pensive witches scribbled on parchments and elder employees puffed thick smoke from their rusty wood pipes.

Harry looked around, placed his hand on Hermione's back and softly guided her towards one of the few empty benches. A soft, estival breeze sneaked its way into the garden, and rustled Hermione's hair lightly.

''Ginny's been keeping me up on your workload. I'm sure her fussing is well justified, however... Is it a wild guess to say she doesn't even know the half of it?'' Hermione lifted her hands and grabbed at the floating books which followed her, carefully pulling them down onto her lap. Their weight felt reassuring, as opposed to Harry's concerned expression as he answered her.

''It's not. Not at all. I wouldn't want - you know… This is Ginny. She's just gotten started on her Quidditch career, and she's happy as ever; the last thing I want is to worry her with all this mad stuff that's going on…'' Harry brought up a hand and pulled his hair out of his face clumsily. A pang of melancholy surged through Hermione as she recognized the nervous gesture he so often used to make during their turbulent school years. ''Hold on, how do you even now about this?''

Hermione grimaced guiltily. It shouldn't be surprising that she'd been following the news on the Prophet; everyone had. A bunch of allegedly random but substantially suspicious deaths in the course of a few weeks was sure to catch anybody's attention. Hermione was no exception; she'd followed the story avidly ever since it'd started back in February. Her instincts had kicked in and tugged at her from the moment she'd set her eyes on it during an early breakfast at her London home.

But in addition to the short reports on the Daily Prophet, for past few weeks she'd also been secretly popping by the Law Enforcement Department every now and then, trying to force some answers out of the few workers she knew were informed on the case.

''Oh, you know. Just the perks of the Head Auror being your best friend.''

Undoubtedly, she could've asked Harry for a more detailed and reliable source of information, but the wizard always seemed so busy and stressed that Hermione hadn't wanted to add her nosey mingling to his plate.

It may also have had to do with the fact that she was absurdly concerned about it. Though four years had almost gone by, the scars the War had left ran deep within Hermione. And not just the physical ones, like the fading angry slashes on her left forearm or the white gash which travelled from her right earlobe all the way down to her collarbone. No; the deepest ones were the ones you couldn't see. The twenty different types of wards which guarded her London townhouse; the anxiety she felt whenever she accidentally Apparated a few meters away from where she intended to; the way she jumped out of her body every time thunder struck. At least it didn't happen with the camera flashes anymore.

It was little things, and at the beginning she kept waiting for them to fade, just as her other scars had. It had taken a while before she'd realised that some things were never going to leave her.

''Unfortunately, it's just getting worse.'' The corners of Harry's mouth dropped and he looked away from Hermione's wide eyes. ''I see you've been trying to keep up with the case, so I might as well just tell you. I don't know where to start, 'Mione. This – everything is just so frustrating. There's been – ''Harry anxiously looked around and scooted closer to her, lowering his voice '' – we've been warned of a possible attack.''

Hermione's head shot up, her heart racing wildly. She thanked Circe she was sitting down, otherwise her backside might have found the floor for the second time that afternoon.

''A – what?''

''An attack. An organized attack. We received notice this morning; apparently, someone's going around spreading rumors that there's an organized group of wizkinds that are going to blow something up.'' Harry pushed his glasses up once again and pointedly avoided her befuddled expression. ''I – this is taking a dangerous turn, Hermione. We've taken preventive measures and reinforced security in what we hope are strategic locations, but if the rumors are true and something like that happens we're going to need a serious contingency plan or we're completely fucked.''

Hermione was at loss of speech. After a few moments in which she desperately tried to pull herself together, she spoke. Or she tried to; the words were more like a nervous breath than an actual articulate sentence.

''You can't be serious''

''Merlin knows I wish I wasn't.''

An oppressive sensation settled in her gut, as Hermione took in Harry's words. Her mind was turning and her heart racing almost painfully inside her ribcage. She looked up from her lap and stretched out her hand towards Harry, resting it over his fiddling ones. She thought it'd be reassuring, but her hand was shaking lightly and she thought perhaps it would have the opposite effect.

''Harry,'' She started, and she found his emerald eyes already staring worriedly into hers. The fear in them almost made her lose her breath ''I want to help. Please. Let me help with the case. I– I can't just stand on the sidelines. Let me share this with you.''

''No, 'Mione, that's not an option.''

''What? Why?''

''Because! It's not your job, Hermione, it's mine! And you've had enough of these matters to last for a lifetime.''

''And you haven't?''

''Again, it's my job!''

''Then I'll make it my job!''

''Hermione, there's no plausible connection between your department and the Auror office, and you know you can't possibly work for two departments at the same time. They won't allow it, even if it's you.''

''Then I won't. I will work for you, in Law Enforcement. I'll be there with you.''

''Hermione, I won't drag you into this like I've dragged you into everything else.''

''Excuse you, Harry Potter, but I think I'm smart enough to drag myself into whatever situation I choose.''

Harry sighed, his hand combing through his hair stressfully.

''Look, Harry. I'm scared, alright? And I know you're scared, and hopefully not, but perhaps soon everyone will also be scared.'' Harry dragged his eyes away from her and stared absentmindedly at the Hallows Monument sitting meters from them. ''I'm very smart, and great at dueling, and you know that I can help in so many different ways.''

The charcoal haired wizard didn't speak, and so Hermione went on. She didn't think she'd wanted his acquiescence more in her life.

''There's no point in having gone through everything that we have, that you have, if someone is just going to come and take it away from us. Please, Harry, let me fight this battle with you, as we have fought every other, together.''

Harry's green eyes jumped around her face, and from her intense scowl to her hands, tightening around his own hopefully. He released another long, tired sigh and slumped his shoulders.

''You do realize you'll have to go through try-outs. It takes an awfully long time to become an Auror, and we don't have that sort of time.''

Hermione frowned, the gears inside her head turning.

''Then I won't be an Auror; I'll learn to fight like one, and train like one, but maybe I can take a different position in the department, a more discreet one, from where I can do research and investigate without calling too much attention to myself.''

''Are you sure? What about the werewolves? And the centaurs?''

''Well, they can't be helped if there's no one left to help them so… I think they'll have to be okay with it.''

''I don't want you to abandon your cases, 'Mione. Also, this… this is no quiet life. I know you've put so much effort into going back to normal, living away from the spotlight, keeping everything at an arm's length… This mission might change that, for good''

Hermione looked away from him, focusing on the swaying daisies which surrounded the bronze sculpture a few feet away from them. Harry was right, she had worked so hard to remain normal; she'd put all her effort into seeming absurdly ordinary, carrying out such a plain lifestyle that the gossip columns and restless reporters had finally tired of following her around. She'd wanted nothing but to retreat into a peaceful and easy life, filled with boring daily tasks and boring weekend routines.

But this; she wouldn't step away from this for the mere sake of her privacy. If that was a sacrifice she had to make in order to be able to help Harry like she wanted to, then she didn't even need to think about it.

Hermione smiled and pulled her hands away from the wizard softly.

''Harry Potter, are you afraid that you'll be once again seen around with the swottiest-witch-of-her-age?''

The genuine laugh that came out of Harry made her heart wrench tenderly.

''There couldn't be a greater honour, Hermione. After all, whether you like it or not, you are the Golden Girl. The witch who changed the course of war.''

Hermione snorted, and shook her head lightly.

''Let's pray to dear Morgana it wasn't just beginners' luck.''

''Mr Malfoy, here you have today's Prophet''

''You received an owl from the Ministry this morning, Mr Malfoy, it's signed by the Department of Magical Travel and Transportation…''

''Mr Malfoy, there're five documents on your desk which should be approved and signed off by the end of today…''

No less than seven people were trailing him hastily down the long corridor, each blurting out a different message, as Draco Malfoy sauntered carelessly towards his office. His black dragonleather suitcase was floating closely behind him and his shoes were clicking against the hardwood floors loudly as he pointedly ignored the voices around him.

When he finally got close enough to the polished ebony door, he sharply stopped on his tracks and turned around on the spot. The wizkind who were closely following him halted and more than one had to lean back to avoid tumbling onto the one in front of them.

''For any requests this afternoon, you'll send a memo, and pass it by Iloius before it arrives on my desk. I want the door to my office closed at all times; save for emergencies.'' He took in the nervous expressions of his employees as they threw short glances his way. He couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at their hesitancy. ''I suggest everyone finds a suitable definition for emergency, that will refrain you from bothering me directly.''

With one last bored look around, Draco Malfoy turned and barged into his office, closing the door behind him with a strong thud.

Friday mornings were usually a complete nightmare. The stock market closed for the weekend every 2:00 pm on a Friday, and didn't open back up until Monday morning, which predictably made it the busiest most stressful moment in the entire week, as everyone tried to wrap up the week on profiting ciphers.

For some reason, this Friday seemed different. The office was buzzing with energy, but it was offbeat. Something which he apparently didn't know about was going on, and Draco had a strange, itchy feeling in his gut.

Still standing right behind the slammed door, he let out a short breath and snapped his fingers. His suitcase slid across the room and fell onto his desk heavily. As he made his way towards it, he side-glanced at the cover of The Daily Prophet sitting on one of his sofas and curtly flicked his hand, opening the first of the drawers on his mahogany desk.

He was pouring himself a short glass of firewhiskey when he finally registered what he had just seen on the cover of the paper.

He left his glass on the table so sharply it almost shattered and rushed towards the sitting area, grabbing the Prophet violently.

''What on Salazar's grave–''

The front page had been taken over by a series of gruesome pictures. At the back of the picture, flames crackling as they ate up the frontage of a series of houses provided a warm and dreary atmosphere to the scene. Up front, he could see there were a few spell craters on the torn-up ground and a few terrified, dishevelled muggles seemingly being swept of their memories by blue-clad Ministry Aurors.

On the margin of the page, a smaller pictured called to his attention. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he watched Harry Potter kneeling on the ground, helping a muggle woman to her feet and turning his head to look around him. A concerned frown topped his exhausted expression, and Draco watched as sudden rush of rage took over his face. He could only admire the photographer; he'd captured a heinous momento.

On the top of the page, read the headline: ''Violent attack in mixed London neighbourhood leaves Wizarding community discombobulated''

Draco stared at the paper blankly, temporarily unable to put his thoughts together as he looked into the muggle woman's terrified eyes.

He continued scanning the page.

''…death count is up to 6 muggles and 2 wizkind…''

''Bloody hell…'' Draco muttered to himself. He dropped the paper far away from himself on the sofa and made his way towards his desk.

After seeing that, he definitely needed his firewhiskey.

It'd been such a peaceful four years since the War ended; no disturbances, no incidents, no deaths… What the fuck was going on? An attack?

He felt suddenly filled with unease as images from the war started flashing before his eyes.

Who are these wizkind and what the fuck are they up to?

The blond wizard shook his head incredulously and leaned back, taking one last sip of his drink. He'd have to look closer into it; any situation of that nature could easily affect his work in a very negative way. After all, this… attack really looked to Draco like the start of something else. And just as it had for him, he was sure the news would spring up memories of the sodden war to anyone who'd lived through it.

And with memories of the war, came memories of his part in it. And that didn't benefit his job either.

Not everyone was so keen to work with that who had been the youngest Death Eater in history; and he didn't want anyone to be reminded of that.

For the last four years, Draco had taken over the family wizarding-banking business and had dedicated his every breath to bringing honour back to the Malfoy family name, earning them a fair share of forgiveness. It had helped that he'd been absolved of all charges at the Wizengamot War Trials, thanks –much to Draco's changrin– to Harry Potter vouching for him and a few of his Slytherin peers during the entirety of their hearings.

After the Trials, with his father dead and his mother falling temporarily ill, he'd had to find his way around a new world and a new business alone. Fortunately for him, Draco was a fast learner, with a quick wit to him and with a lot to lose if he didn't do things right. It was the combination of those things which had been the key to his slowly growing success. Soon after his business was on track, he'd started to work with the Ministry of Magic. The result was a fair amount of work, very little time for whining and a lot of patience and endurance.

Draco sighed and forcefully put his mind to rest. It was no use dwelling on the past or wondering about the future. He had a lot on his plate, and he had to deal with it as he always had; diligently and boldly.

After a while, a sharp knock on his door interrupted him, making his head spring up.

Didn't I tell them to leave me bloody well alone?

He sighed, irked, and leaned back on his leather chair.

''What.''

His secretary Iloius popped his head through the door to the office and nervously cleared his throat. Iloius had been working with him for the better part of his short career; he was a middle-aged squib with extraordinary aptitude for organization and undeniably unending patience. It was the latter which was most helpful in his position.

''Mr Malfoy, you have a visitor.''

''Tell them I'm busy.''

Draco watched him with bored eyes as he turned his head back to the hall, his hand still holding the handle.

''Sir, as you can hear, Mr Malfoy is currently engaged–''

''Well then tell the wanker to disengage himself–''

Draco recognized that voice instantly. He quickly got up from his chair and walked over to the polished door, pulling it open with such force he almost ripped Ilous' arm off.

''Zabini?''

''Well, Malfoy, they weren't kidding in the papers. Your hair does look as luscious as ever.''

Drawing a sneaky smirk and following the sound of an incredulous chuckle coming from Draco's lips, Blaise Zabini sauntered into his office.

Author's note: Well! Here it is! I hope you enjoyed it! I should try to keep my chapters shorter, I have a tendency to make them way too long; but since its only the beginning of the story, I 'm trying to keep the first part from taking up too many chapters and becoming too tedious.

On a side note, I have yet to determine my update schedules, although since I'm on COVID-19 lockdown, you can expect faster updates than usual for the time being.

Can't wait to keep developing the story.

Until next time!

PS: The Crotalus is a type of rattlesnake