My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.
Chapter 67: The Unspeakable
Lake Black, Scotland, April 20th, 2006
"It's a disgrace! A scandal! A crime against humanity, run by incompetents or sadists - or, possibly, both! Neglect, willful neglect, has probably done as much as deliberate cruelty!"
Ron was very glad that Hermione's anger wasn't directed at him. She was pacing in her lab and ranting.
Still, as much as he agreed that a little venting did you good, he wasn't entirely certain whether that also applied to wizards and witches. Accidental magic was a thing, wasn't it? Or so he'd heard. Supposedly, it was limited to kids, but… he'd rather not find out that was wrong the hard way.
So he cleared his throat. "Good thing the prison's going to be abolished, then."
She turned her head, glaring at him, then took a deep breath - he saw her chest heave - and slowly nodded. "Yes. But it should have been closed long ago! This is… barbaric! Callous! And my best friends could have done something about it, but didn't!"
Ah. Yes, that was the crux of the issue. This could get ugly. Real ugly. "Well, they weren't responsible for the prison - they're Aurors, not Hit-Wizards, right?"
And now she was glaring at him again. "They could have inspected the prison any time they wanted! They should have, actually - you can't use Azkaban as a dumping ground for the dregs of the Ministry, and then just assume they'll actually do their duty!"
Well, she wasn't wrong. On the other hand… "They also thought you had been killed by Death Eaters when they restaffed Azkaban."
She winced, and he felt guilty for doing this. It hadn't been her fault, after all.
Sighing, she sat down behind her desk. "I know that. But even if that excused their neglect, it's been seven years since - six, at the least. They should have visited the prison and checked on the prisoners."
Ron nodded. He could've argued some more, but… wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron could defend themselves when they arrived.
"But we did inspect the prison - we didn't see anything out of the ordinary," Ron's counterpart said.
"You didn't notice the prisoners' mental deterioration?" Hermione asked.
Ron's counterpart shook his head. "Well, sure we did - but that's normal for Azkaban. Not to mention that the Death Eaters weren't exactly stable to begin with."
Hermione glared at him. "And the thieves and other criminals? Some of them were so far gone, they couldn't understand that the prison would be closing."
"St Mungo's took care of those who were released," wizarding Harry said. "At least the Healers are supposed to," he added when Hermione turned towards him.
"We can't exactly control everyone," wizarding Ron told her. "We checked that the cells were remodelled and cleaned up, that the guards knew their duties and that the procedures had been changed. You should've seen the state the prison was in before we took over." The wizard blinked. "On second thought, no, you shouldn't have - it was ghastly."
Ron almost snorted. But then he remembered that Voldemort would have used the prison during the war. The horrors that must have occurred there… he shuddered.
"I can imagine. But even so - did you know that they kept Skeeter in a jar? In her beetle form?" Hermione put both hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at them.
"They said she was OK with it," Ron's counterpart protested. "And you know that the Dementors hurt animagi in animal form less."
"And did you check with her whether she actually agreed to that?"
The two wizards glanced at each other.
"I thought as much." Hermione huffed.
"We can't check everything ourselves," wizarding Harry repeated.
"Well, someone needs to check everything. An inspector general or something," Hermione snapped. "This lack of oversight means abuse and corruption won't be uncovered!"
"You'd be great for the job?" Ron's counterpart tentatively suggested. Hermione glared at him, but the wizard smiled. "Honest - not many wizards or witches know as much about so much as you do. If you know what I mean."
"You know that I've got my work here," Hermione replied. "Work that probably would've been completed already, if not for this… this mess!"
That wasn't entirely correct, at least as far as Ron could tell. They were close to finalising the wording for the Fidelius Charm but hadn't yet perfected it. And Azkaban had nothing to do with that. But mentioning that wouldn't be constructive. "Well, let me guess: no money for another department?" he asked.
In hindsight, that probably hadn't been very constructive, either.
His counterpart snorted, and wizarding Harry replied: "Even if there were money - it wouldn't cost too much, I think - most of the Ministry would fight tooth and nail against such a proposal."
"Oh, yeah." Wizarding Ron nodded. "The departmental infighting would become even worse. Everyone would try to use the inspector to damage their rivals. And no one would trust them." He grinned again. "That's why you'd be perfect for the job - you wouldn't be swayed."
"People would assume I'm in your and Shacklebolt's pocket," Hermione told him.
"They'd assume that of anyone who Kingsley proposed for such a post," Ron's counterpart replied.
Not for the first time, Ron noted that, despite magic, office politics were the same in both worlds.
"Regardless, I don't have the time to do it," she told them, still glaring at them.
"Well, don't look at us - we're busy with our jobs, too," Ron's counterpart replied.
"We can't do everything. Even if we had the gold, we don't have the Aurors," wizarding Harry added.
"Though the gold wouldn't hurt," wizarding Ron added with a grin.
Hermione's frown turned into a deep scowl. "I'm not going to pay - or, to be more precise, let Dumbledore pay - for something the Ministry should have already had in place."
"Why not?" Ron's counterpart asked. "He's filthy rich, isn't he? Makes the Malfoys and Blacks look like the Weasleys, as I understand it. And you're working for him - his money bought this lab, didn't it?"
She grimaced in response - she would know what her friend had just implied. "Yes, he could probably easily afford to do so. Compared to the costs of running a prison, the gold needed to pay for an inspector general and support staff wouldn't be particularly significant."
Ron nodded in agreement. If they cut costs with enough diligence, shaved off some of the padding that every offer would have, they could probably free up enough money to pay for such an office. But…
Hermione sighed. "But he's not the Dumbledore you knew. He's a former spymaster. Current, actually - just these days, he runs his own organisation instead of MI6."
"Like the Order of the Phoenix?" Ron's counterpart asked.
"Somewhat, yes. But loyal to him and Grindelwald."
"Right." The wizard nodded. "Grindelwald. You don't trust him, and you don't trust Dumbledore."
Hermione sighed. "I trust him - to a certain degree. He, both of them, actually, have dealt with us fairly. But… I don't know if I would trust him with so much control over the Ministry."
"But you trust him with control over the portal?" Wizarding Harry raised his eyebrows.
"I am the only one, so far, who can open a portal. The only one who understands everything about it. He needs me as much as I need him." Hermione bit her lower lip. "But I don't want him to gain even more power - or leverage."
"Yet you arranged for him to pay for a new prison. That already gives him a lot of influence in the Ministry," wizarding Harry pointed out.
"Oh, yeah," Ron's counterpart agreed. "Dad said everyone's already very interested in the 'anonymous donor' behind the new prison. They smell more money."
"Well, it's supposedly my inheritance," Ron said, "so they'll set their sights on me, rather than Dumbledore."
"But it's still his money. If he cuts you off…" Wizarding Ron grimaced.
"We have secured enough money to pay for the prison and for running it for several years," Hermione told him. "We're not at his mercy."
Not completely, at least. Still… any influence Ron might be tempted to build up with his supposed wealth would, ultimately, be Dumbledore's.
Wizarding Harry frowned. "That sounds like he's got a hold on you. At least, it doesn't sound as if you'd have the upper hand, if things should become difficult."
"Yes," Hermione replied, not quite through clenched teeth, but Ron could tell it was a near thing.
"Couldn't you have found another source of money?" Wizarding Harry frowned a little himself.
Her frown deepened. "It would have taken me too long and threatened a number of urgent projects. Such as ensuring the safety of our families. Using Dumbledore's money means the current abomination of a prison will be shut down as fast as possible."
Her friend nodded with a slight smile. "We understand. Sometimes - often - you have to compromise, since you can't afford the perfect solution."
"Right," Ron's counterpart agreed with a grin.
Hermione glared at them. Hoist by her own petard, so to speak. Ron patted her thigh. It wasn't her fault.
"The situations aren't exactly the same," she said with a sniff. "There's a difference between juggling life and death decisions and negotiating a budget."
"If the Auror office doesn't get enough funding for training and recruitment, we'll become understaffed. And that means more people will make more mistakes - potentially fatal ones," Harry shot back.
"And Percy will gladly entertain you with all sorts of anecdotes about what ugly accidents will happen if the Ministry cannot enforce, say, the regulations about the thickness of cauldron bottoms ," Ron's counterpart said. "Though, to be honest, he isn't wrong. And any accident that could've been prevented means more work for St Mungo's - and if the Healers start to get overworked…"
"Yes, yes, I understood it the first time," Hermione said. "But we're talking about torture! Do I have to show you my memories of today's visit?"
"That won't be necessary," wizarding Harry quickly told her.
"We were there shortly after the war," his friend added.
"Good." Hermione glared at both wizards. "Because we're going to destroy Azkaban, and I need your help for that."
Her tone brooked no argument.
Of course, her friends argued anyway. "Destroy Azkaban? How?" Ron's counterpart asked. "It's a cursed island. I mean, you could destroy the prison piece by piece, but…"
"You're not planning to use muggle bombs, are you?" Wizarding Harry's expression told Ron that he was thinking of certain bombs in particular.
"What? No. That wouldn't work. They tried that with Heligoland, and it didn't work despite the enormous amount of explosives used." Hermione shook her head.
"You looked into it," wizarding Harry said in a flat voice. "Of course you did."
"Of course," she confirmed. "In any case, destroying the island isn't the problem. The Dementors are the problem. The main problem."
"And how do you plan to deal with them? Not literally dealing, I hope?" wizarding Ron asked.
"Certainly not," Hermione retorted with a huff. "You'd have to be a fool to make a deal with those monsters."
"We didn't make the deal; it goes back to the founding of the Ministry," Ron's counterpart retorted. "Well, almost. Close enough."
"It doesn't matter when exactly the deal was made," Hermione said, "what matters is that it's time it ended."
"So how do you plan to deal with them? Leave them on the island?" wizarding Harry asked.
"That's a short-term solution at best. While they cannot leave the island by themselves, it'll require constant surveillance to prevent others from making a deal with them."
And taking them off the island. The Dementors were the perfect terror weapon, especially against muggles. Ron shuddered again. The idea that he could be killed by something sucking out his soul, yet he wouldn't even realise, much less see his killer…
"No, they need to be destroyed," Hermione went on.
"And do you know how?" wizarding Harry asked. "I'm no Unspeakable, but I know that pretty much everything was tried on them, and nothing worked."
"We're working on that," Hermione told him with a frown. "And yes, everything was tried against the Dementors - in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Both magic and technology have greatly advanced since then."
"Actually, I think Percy mentioned that the Unspeakables regularly try new spells on Dementors," Ron's counterpart said. "At least for a while now. It might've been someone's pet project - I don't remember the details."
Hermione leaned forward. "Really? We need the documentation of those experiments! This could save us so much time!" Then she frowned. "I should've thought of that myself! Of course, the Department of Mysteries wouldn't just ignore an apparently immortal - or, depending on how you define living and immortal, at least indestructible - creature!"
"Well…" Ron's counterpart looked at his friend. Both seemed to be a little embarrassed, Ron noted.
"We'll have to check. When we took over the Ministry, a number of Unspeakables either fled or were arrested, and between them destroying evidence of their crimes and collateral damage from the arrests, the department suffered somewhat," wizarding Harry said.
Hermione gasped. "You mean…?"
Wizarding Harry winced. "Yes, some of their books and notes were destroyed."
"It wasn't our fault," wizarding Ron hastily added. "We couldn't let them go, not after what they…" He shrugged.
Hermione nodded. "Yes. It's obviously their fault. But we need to check what knowledge they gathered - and kept secret - about the Dementors." She frowned. "Who is the current Department Head, anyway?"
"Saul Croaker. He was the Head Unspeakable before the takeover, and he went to ground during the war," wizarding Harry told her.
"Well, he says he did," Ron's counterpart added. "We haven't any proof - but we don't have any hint that he didn't, so to speak."
"And he's in charge again?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"He was the only one available who knew enough to do the job and wasn't a confirmed Death Eater or Death Eater supporter," wizarding Harry explained. He winced as he added: "There were hardly any Unspeakables - at all - left at the end of the war."
"Office politics there were literally murder," Ron added with a snort. "Percy loves to say that. I bet he's slightly jealous of them."
Ron chuckled. "I understand the sentiment. I had to work with Dawlish in CI5."
Hermione frowned at them both, then sighed. "Let's hope that Mr Croaker is cooperative."
"And what if he isn't?" Ron asked. "Or asks for a bribe?"
"He won't - he knows that we would immediately arrest him," wizarding Harry said. "But he might ask for help with something, claiming that he is so busy, he can't find the time to help us, but if someone helped with his workload…" He scowled.
"He's pulled that with Harry often enough," wizarding Ron explained. "He wanted to experiment on the scar. Something about a defence against the Killing Curse ."
"Hah! As if I'd let anyone do that," his friend spat. "Much less on such an obvious pretext. He wanted a look at the remains of one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."
"He sounds like a mad scientist," Ron commented. And a stereotype of one, to be honest.
"Oh, that fits him," wizarding Harry confirmed.
"Great." Ron sighed. A mad scientist who could shape reality at will. That was only funny if you read about it in those ham-fisted old sci-fi novels. But to meet one?
And God help them all if Croaker found out that dimensional travel was possible.
Perhaps he should sit this one out - he couldn't protect his mind, after all. He cleared his throat. "I assume that he can read minds?"
"You mean Legilimency?" Hermione corrected him while looking at her friends.
"Well… we don't actually know. But it's safer to assume that he does than that he doesn't," wizarding Harry said with a slightly sheepish smile. "There's no register for Legilimens."
"And if there were, people wouldn't register anyway," Ron's counterpart added. "It's just like with animagi: if others know you can do it, you lose most of its benefits. Although both are very rare."
"But you think Croaker is skilled at Legilimency," Hermione said.
"It would fit him. He sometimes tries to act like a distracted old wizard - a little like Dumbledore - but he also likes to make cryptic remarks," wizarding Harry replied.
"Or cheap philosophy," wizarding Ron said. "Anyway, he's never tried to read our minds. Or if he has, then he's so good at it that we never noticed. And it would've been wandless, too - he wouldn't have been able to draw a wand without us noticing."
"A wandless Legilimens, skilled enough to slip past your Occlumency? That does sound a little far-fetched," Hermione said. "We should be safe, then."
"You might be safe - but I can't protect my mind," Ron pointed out. "And I wouldn't notice an intruder, I don't think." Croaker would know Ron was a muggle and, therefore, vulnerable, too. And if he read Ron's mind, he'd know everything about the portal - and about their friends and families. "I don't think I should meet him."
"Well, mate, that does sound like a good idea," his counterpart agreed.
"There's an easy defence against Legilimency," Hermione said. "Just wear mirrored shades. Or any other shades that won't let them look into your eyes."
"Would that work?" That would be so simple…
"It should," she replied. "I don't know any Legilimency techniques that don't require eye contact." She looked at her friends.
Both wizards shook their heads. "I don't know any, either," wizarding Harry said. "I'm no expert, though - but 'avert your eyes' is a standard tactic for Aurors faced with a potential Legilimens."
Ron's counterpart grinned at Hermione. "Well, if you don't know of any, then I think we can safely assume that that'll work." After growing serious, he added: "If there is a way to bypass that tactic, it'd be a nightmare, though."
"No one and no secret would be safe - we'd have to make Occlumency mandatory at Hogwarts," wizarding Harry agreed.
Hermione snorted. "It should have been an elective, anyway. Taught by a decent teacher, of course. Not someone like… Snape."
Both her friends nodded in agreement. "But finding one would be a chore and a half. To teach Occlumency, they would have to enter your mind - to test you. Can you imagine people like the Greengrasses and Boneses allowing anyone to read their kids' minds? The kind of secrets they'd discover…" wizarding Ron scoffed. "They'd never trust a teacher not to abuse that. Obliviation might help, but..."
"That would require the teacher to trust someone not to remove more than merely the memories of the lesson," his friend added. "Or alter them."
"Yes." Hermione nodded. "But it still should be taught for those, like us, who need it."
"No argument here," wizarding Ron agreed. "It would certainly give those families without dark secrets to hide an edge."
It would be quite ironic if those who didn't have much to hide would be able to learn Occlumency, while those who had dark secrets wouldn't dare take public lessons. Still… "Can we test the shades?" Ron asked.
"We need a Legilimens for that," Hermione said. "And as Ron explained, they generally don't advertise their talents."
"We need a trustworthy Legilimens," wizarding Harry corrected her, grinning when she scowled at him.
"That was implied," she said. "Or should've been. Now, do you know anyone who would fit?"
"Ah…" wizarding Ron sighed. "No one alive." He winced at his own words, "I mean… Sorry."
Hermione nodded, and for a moment, everyone remained silent and made Ron feel like an outsider.
Damn. "I don't think we should risk it," he said. Even though he really wanted to see the Department of Mysteries - who wouldn't, in his place? Vaults full of ancient wonders and magical items…
Hermione frowned. "You can't try to hide from potential Legilimens whenever we are in Wizarding Britain."
"I don't plan to," he replied. "But risking Croaker finding out about us..." He shook his head. "It's not worth it."
"If he's willing to invade your mind, then he'd come after you anyway - he knows you're a muggle," his counterpart pointed out.
"But if I show up with mirror shades, he'll know I've got something to hide," Ron retorted.
"Well, he already knows that - you're with Hermione," wizarding Ron replied. "And you've been seen with us. And you're a Weasley." He shrugged. "Just use the shades."
Ron wanted to curse under his breath. Not about getting to see the Department of Mysteries, but because he'd just realised he'd be a person of interest for all sorts of wizards and witches for the rest of his life. He could only hope that Hermione's Fidelius Charm would solve that as well.
Which meant they would have to go over the wording again.
Great.
Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 22nd, 2006
"Croaker must have wanted to meet with you," Ron said after recovering from his trip through the fireplace - he was still getting used to the Floo Network.
"What makes you think that?" she asked as she used her wand to clean some soot from his clothes. Her own already looked immaculate.
"He's meeting with you just a day after the request was made - and on a Saturday," Ron told her. That wasn't a good sign in his book. If important people bent over backwards to meet you, they usually wanted something - something urgent or significant, or both.
And if the Head of the Unspeakables, whose department oversaw all sorts of dangerous and often questionable research, wanted something from you... Yeah, you didn't have to be an archwizard - did wizards and witches use that term? - to realise that wasn't a good thing.
"Yes, I'm aware of that. On the other hand, if he's anything like other researchers I know, he would've been working on a Saturday anyway," Hermione replied.
"Researchers like yourself?" Ron asked with a grin. "I do remember a cot in your office…"
She pouted at him. "I had very good reasons to work as much as possible on my projects. Reasons that are still valid today," she added. "We really need to finish our research."
"I know," he replied as he pulled his shades out of his pocket. Mirrored shades. In 2006. Indoors. Ginny would never let him live it down if she heard about it. And she probably would. "I'm still not sure about this," he said. "If it's so easy to block a Legilimens, why hasn't it been done before?"
"Legilimens are rare. Occlumency exists. And - for wizards and witches, at least - mirrored shades, as well as other sorts of shades, are relatively new," Hermione replied. With a grin, she added: "And wearing them would announce that you had secrets worth protecting in your mind."
Which was exactly what he was doing, of course. But then, Croaker would already suspect that - as Ron had been told, stupid people didn't become Unspeakables. Or, if they did, they didn't survive for long. He sighed. "Well, let's go before we get kicked out for blocking traffic or something."
"What traffic?" Hermione snorted and pointedly looked round the Atrium. Except for three Hit-Wizards, two of them at the fireplaces, and one Auror at the lifts, it was empty.
"Wouldn't stop a cop with a grudge." And Ron had a feeling that he and Hermione weren't the Hit-Wizards' favourite people right now.
"Really. You'd think they'd be glad that they won't be forced to guard Azkaban any more," Hermione said with a huff.
"With the Ministry strapped for gold, they might fear being sacked," Ron replied. "And without Azkaban, more people might apply to become Hit-Wizards. More qualified ones."
"You should hear what Harry and Ron have to say about the Hit-Wizards," she told him with a sigh. "It's like listening to football fans talking about their team's rivals."
"Well…" Ron coughed. Bitching about other agencies was a way of life. Or about superiors. Or colleagues. And Parliament, of course. Not to mention the Treasury.
She sighed, shaking her head at him - though her lips were twisted into a smile. "Let's go."
They went to the lift. The Auror there, a young witch, had been eyeing them since they had arrived. Ron knew the type: rookie, stuck with a mind-numbingly boring and mainly pointless assignment, but oh so determined to do a really good job so they would be assigned to better work.
Some of them didn't realise for the longest time that their performance didn't really matter. It hadn't for Harry and himself - they had to go through this like everyone else, and for the same amount of time. Especially since they had been famous for the Riddle and Pettigrew incidents. Now, once they had started doing actual police work, things had changed rapidly, of course.
The witch stood straight, almost at attention. "Ma'am. Sir."
"Good afternoon," Hermione replied with a polite smile.
"Good afternoon." Ron was tempted to comment on shit jobs but managed to rein himself in and nodded at her. As a rookie, he hadn't liked civilians or retired cops being jovial with him, so he wasn't about to inflict that on others. He did grin at the way she stared at his shades, though.
The Auror cleared her throat. "Ah… what are you doing here? I mean…" She blushed, then straightened some more. "I have to log any visitors."
At the lifts? Ron would have expected that to be done at a reception desk. And he remembered one, from his last visit.
Hermione, though, didn't seem to be surprised. "We've got an appointment with Saul Croaker," she told the Auror.
"Oh." The Auror nodded. "I wasn't told who would be arriving. I'm sorry."
Was Croaker playing more games? If they checked your identity at the lift, then it couldn't have been an attempt to keep their visit a secret. Unless it was merely to prevent rumours from spreading in advance of today.
Or it might be an attempt to keep them guessing and wondering. A psy-op lite.
Ron almost wished that Dumbledore were here with them if only to see him face off with the Head Unspeakable. That would be a fun experience.
At least Hermione looked less than fashionable either once she put on her own mirrored shades in the cabin of the lift. "We look like rejects from the Eighties," he commented with a smirk as he pushed the button for the lowest level. He noticed that the button didn't have a plaque next to it, unlike the other buttons.
"Function before fashion," she countered. "Besides, compared to what's fashionable in some wizarding circles, this is positively elegant and understated."
Well, he couldn't really argue with that. Not after what he had seen in Diagon Alley. So he nodded. "Although it's a different country," he said. A different world, even. "Can't expect them to dress like home."
She frowned before replying: "Some basic sense of fashion should still be present. Especially when borrowing elements from another culture."
"Well, where was that in the Seventies?"
She had no answer to that, judging by the deep frown she aimed at him. He shrugged with a smile. "Different cultures, different tastes."
"Are you quoting a novel or a TV series at me?"
He laughed. "At most it would be paraphrasing." Tolerance was a common theme in many works, after all.
Before she could answer, the cabin stopped - they had arrived.
The entrance to the Department of Mysteries looked almost ordinary. It was done in the same style as the rest of the Ministry, although devoid of any decor, signs or anything else on the bare walls and the polished stone floor. The massive door, though, would've fit a Swiss bank vault. Or Fort Knox in some movies.
"I'd have expected guards here," he commented as the two of them stepped into the room.
"Me too," she said. "The things they keep here would certainly deserve them."
"Did you ever break into this department?"
She shook her head as she walked over to the door. "No. But I did read up on it."
"They've got books on the department?" Ron wouldn't have trusted any book written about such a place. He'd have expected disinformation.
"No. I read Dumbledore's notes."
Her Dumbledore's, of course. "Ah."
She tapped her wand three times on a completely unremarkable spot on the vault. A moment later, Ron heard a disembodied male voice which seemed to come from the centre of the room. "Yes?"
"Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. We've got an appointment," she said.
"Welcome," the voice answered.
A moment later, the vault door started to slowly swing open.
"The entrance to Diagon Alley looked more magical," Ron mumbled.
"This might just be for show. Dumbledore's notes mentioned that this floor wasn't 'fully settled', Hermione told him.
"What does that mean?"
She grimaced. "I don't know. Dumbledore was a great wizard, but he was also eccentric."
"Ah." Ron felt like grimacing as well. A mad wizard. Or, to be more precise, a mad archwizard. Unless it had all been an act, of course. Which wasn't very unlikely, given what he knew about the wizard's counterpart in Ron's world.
By now the vault door had fully opened. There was no airlock behind it - but then, wizards probably had other ways of achieving that. Although there was… "A waterfall?" A tiny one, but large enough to cover the entire hallway's length.
She nodded. "The Thief's Downfall. Goblin-made, to deal with magical disguises and spells of all kinds." She waved her wand for a moment, then nodded and stepped through the waterfall.
He followed her. If this was a trap, then they were probably screwed anyway. The hallway after the waterfall seemed to go on forever. "Let me guess: more smoke and mirrors?" he asked.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "Dumbledore mentioned this trick in his notes. We just have to keep walking and we'll arrive at a rotating room."
That was reassuring.
The walk still felt like it was longer than it should've been. "I wonder what they do if they ever need to evacuate. Pull a Tarkin?"
She snorted at that, just as a door suddenly appeared in front of them - and opened right away, revealing a smiling old man in black robes, though with the hood down. And no beard, just thin white hair on the fringe of a bald plate.
"Saul Croaker," he introduced himself. "Welcome."
The voice didn't match the one they had heard, Ron noted.
"Thank you for having us," Hermione replied.
"On a Saturday," Ron added.
"Oh, to meet you I would have sacrificed my entire weekend - if I didn't spend most of my weekends here, anyway," the wizard told them as he stepped aside - and the hallway behind him transformed into an old-fashioned office. "Please, have a seat."
As if on cue, a couch appeared out of thin air.
As he followed Hermione in, Ron couldn't help wondering whether the hallways outside would disappear as soon as the door closed behind them.
"You seem to be very used to magic," Croaker commented, nodding at Ron. "Or you have remarkable self-control."
"A bit of both, if I'm honest," he replied. He grinned at Hermione. "It comes with the territory, so to speak."
She frowned in return. "His humour needs some work," she said.
Croaker chuckled politely. Probably at both of them. "Would you like some tea?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Ron said. He wouldn't trust the Unspeakable's tea even if he could brew it himself.
"As am I," Hermione agreed.
"You're very cautious. Which is laudable, of course, especially considering your profession." Croaker made a point of looking at their shades. "Quite an ingenious device. It's not even enchanted, Is it? Or spelled against Transfiguration?"
"Should it have been?" Hermione retorted. "There could only be one reason to tamper with our shades, after all."
Ron nodded. A clearly hostile reason.
Croaker laughed in return. It sounded genuine - which rang all sorts of alarm bells in Ron's mind. The Unspeakable obviously wasn't worried about them threatening him.
And, as Ron should've expected, Hermione didn't like it at all. She pressed her lips together until her mouth formed a thin line, and, presumably, she was glaring at the wizard behind her shades.
"I can assure you, the rumours of what happens in my department are vastly exaggerated," Croaker said. "We don't sacrifice muggles to dark forces."
"Not any more, you mean," Hermione retorted.
And the wizard raised his eyebrows. It looked like an honest reaction, but it was hard to tell. "I don't acknowledge the actions during the occupation as my department's," he said. "The crimes committed seven years ago were done on behalf of the Dark Lord, not the Ministry."
"Convenient," Ron commented.
"Should you be held responsible for what someone who sneaked into your home and forced you out then proceeded to do?" Croaker shook his head."I think not. The whole Ministry would be guilty in that case. Or the whole of Britain, from a certain point of view."
He had a point. Hermione huffed anyway. "I wasn't talking about the most recent 'unfortunate episode'."
Croaker finally lost his smile. "You've read Albus's notes, then. Those are his words."
Hermione nodded. "It was enlightening."
"Albus had quite rigid views sometimes. Surprising, given his own past."
"I wouldn't call it surprising. 'Understandable' seems more fitting;" Hermione replied. "He knew better than most what he was talking about."
"I cannot contest the truth of that statement." Croaker nodded. "And did he talk to you about those things?"
"Only to cover what was needed to defeat Voldemort."
"That's a very vague statement. Almost evasive in its uncertainty. Some of my past colleagues would've found that reason enough to justify the worst of experiments."
"But you knew Dumbledore, so you know better." Hermione wasn't quite smiling, but the corners of her lips were twisting upwards.
"Touché." Croaker nodded again, more slowly. "You're hard to unbalance. No doubt a result of your history."
"Many others were touched as much by the war as I was. Many more suffered worse."
"But few were taken into Albus's confidence." Croaker steepled his fingers. "Messrs Potter and Weasley were remarkably tight-lipped about their work with Dumbledore. Their refusal to go into details about the Dark Lord's defeat was most vexing. Almost as vexing as Mr Potter's refusal to help with the research into a defence against the Killing Curse - on an academic level, of course. As we all know, hiding behind a wall works very well against the Killing Curse. For a time, at least."
For someone who kept referring to Dumbledore by his first name, Croaker certainly didn't seem to have had the wizard's trust.
"I wasn't present when Voldemort was killed," Hermione replied. "I had my accident before that."
"But you were privy to Albus's plan." Croaker didn't ask - he stated. "While no one would dare claim that your friends were ordinary wizards, they weren't what we would call academically inclined. You, on the other hand, were amongst the brightest students to attend Hogwarts."
"Dumbledore told me nothing that he didn't tell my friends as well," Hermione replied. She didn't sound merely annoyed, though.
"Oh, I assume so. But that's not what I was talking about. Your life came under quite the scrutiny after your apparent and heroic demise. Between all the well-deserved praise, although undoubtedly heaped upon you in part by people you never knew existed, enough actual information could be found to study your character." He grinned. "You were never content with merely knowing something. You always wanted to know everything."
"There's a huge difference between wanting to know something and being able to learn it," she retorted.
"And that is where Albus would've come in. Did you know that his personal library was never found? The Ministry searched for it after his murder, as did the Dark Lod after he took over, but no one found it."
"I'm sure Dumbledore took steps to settle his estate before he was murdered," Hermione replied. "As was his right."
"Indeed. Will you emulate his example, then?"
Hermione shrugged. "I'm more concerned with current events than my death in the hopefully distant future."
"Which won't happen for several decades," Ron added with a glare - at both of them.
Hermione grinned, then leaned forward. "Was that why you wanted to meet me?"
"The chance to secure Dumbledore's private library for future generations certainly crossed my mind," Croaker replied.
"You mean bury it in your vaults," Hermione retorted.
"Only those works which are too dangerous in the wrong hands."
"Everything is too dangerous in the wrong hands." Hermione snorted. "Even Flobberworms."
Croaker winced. "Professor Hagrid is a little too enthusiastic at times."
Ron winced in turn - he didn't think Hagrid anything on the Lunas or the twins - either set - when it came to dangerous enthusiasm.
The wizard sighed. "But that wasn't my main motivation for seeking this meeting - merely a welcome side benefit."
"And what was your main motivation?"
He beamed at her. "Recruitment."
Hermione tensed up.
"Recruitment?" She frowned, blinking. Had she heard correctly?
"Yes, my dear! I'd like to recruit you for the Slug Club." Professor Slughorn beamed at her.
"Me?" She narrowed her eyes.
"Of course. You are one of the most brilliant students in your year, after all."
She scoffed. "I wasn't aware that you counted being born a pureblood as a sign of talent."
His smile faltered a little. Just a tiny bit, but she caught it. "I don't know why you'd have that impression, my dear."
"Really?" She cocked her head at him. "It took you how long to go through all the purebloods for your gatherings before you decided to invite me?"
"That's no slight on your talent."
"Of course it isn't. But it's a sign of what matters more to you - and in Wizarding Britain: talent or blood." She leaned forward, uncaring about the other students who had dropped all pretence of not listening in on her conversation. "Although that would be unfair. You haven't invited Ron Weasley, either - even though he's a pureblood and a better wizard than most of your house. And he's well connected:. the best friend of the Boy Who Lived, his brother is one of Gringotts' best Curse-Breakers - and currently courting Fleur Delacour - two other brothers just opened a successful shop in Diagon Alley, one is a talented Ministry employee, another is a Dragon Handler and his father a department head at the Ministry." She shook her head. "You really shouldn't have listened to the Slytherins, Professor, when you picked your first candidates for your club. Their biases make them poor advisors." She nodded curtly at him and left the room.
She had no time for a bigot who couldn't spot talent if it hexed him in the arse.
And, really - 'one of the most brilliant students'? Pfft!
