AUTHOR'S NOTE: Holy shit, I really thought I'd never find the inspiration or drive to write for this past the first chapter, but here we are! So after an exceedingly long delay, here's the second chapter. It's also cross-posted on AO3, if you prefer that platform.

Chapter Two: An Investigation into a Deviant Cabal

Hermione vividly remembers the day when she was bequeathed the honor of being the Head of a new House.

Historically, the Wizarding World honored the original thirty Ancient and Noble Houses, followed by the smaller Old Houses, the minor but socially important families of Muggleborn wizards, the everyday wizards, and then squibs. By 1930, there were twenty-eight Ancient and Noble Houses still intact. The Sacred Twenty-Eight. Traditions, though not as strictly followed, did very much rule the Magical political landscape. The Head of a House wore a signet ring signifying their status, the House crest engraved upon it. The Heir of the House bore a smaller ring that signified their status, denoting succession. The rest of the House wore the family crests to show their association, to be protected politically and socially. Vows between and within Houses forged alliances, disciplined members of the House, and dictated a general hierarchy. Minor families and Old Houses could be incorporated through vows to serve the Head of an Ancient and Noble House in various capacities, as could those in alliance who hoped to use the favor of the House to advance their standing. And, above all, blood purity meant everything.

But those long standing traditions were no longer a stable framework from which the Wizarding World operated. The second War clearly indicated that blood purity held back their society as a whole and allowed for more bloodshed and corruption to occur. All the Ancient and Noble Houses had lost too much, and those not a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had been in an even more dire situation. Financial funds were heavily displaced, properties in dispute, family members dead. Heir rings were redistributed, Heads of House suffering under the threat of House extinction. Already over half the Old Houses and ninety percent of the minor Muggleborn families were extinct. Everyone cried out for the Ministry to heal their collapsing community.

It was then that the new Minister made his first move.

Hermione had been set to return for her final year of Hogwarts, something she had not been able to continue due to Harry's horcrux hunt and the impending doom of Voldemort. Her parents were left in Australia, kept unaware of their true identities and safe from any backlash that could be aimed at them because of their daughter's success in ending the Dark Lord. Harry, contrary to everyone's expectations, turned to Magical medicine as his chosen profession instead of becoming an Auror. He confessed to her that he could no longer continue to participate in the violent aspects of the Wizarding World, hoping to save lives in another fashion than throwing curses at dark wizards. Ron took to the Auror profession with a vigor no one quite anticipated (though not surprising) climbing swiftly through the ranks thanks to all his experience as one of the Golden Trio.

So, really, the witch felt left behind by her two dearest friends while they determinedly pursued their goals. No definite direction, no specific talent beyond incredible smarts and an impressive memory recall.

But then Shacklebolt's vice-chair, Harold Dawd Fawley, shuffled his way into the Hogwarts library and immediately requested some of her personal time. A privacy ward had been erected.

And right at the fifth study table surrounded by dusty old tomes, the last name Granger became "a Youthful and Honorable House." All of the properties and funds formerly owned by the Crouch family, an Ancient and Noble House that went unfortunately extinct during her fourth year at Hogwarts due to the dark machinations of Voldemort's revival, were given to her. The former family's holdings had been in the Ministry's possession, stuck in limbo until the Minister chose to distribute them evenly amongst the Ancient and Noble Houses.

Except she was now the Head of a Youthful and Honorable House, wearing a heavy signet ring with a crest involving a river otter, a black and silver shield, a wreath of blue-gold leaves, and a ruby red star grasped in her patronus' paws. She owned properties in England, Wales, Germany, Scotland, France, Bulgaria, Egypt, and the States. Beyond the small vault she had started when she was eleven, Hermione owned seven other overflowing vaults in Gringotts. She owned an entire wing of the goblin bank. The witch held stocks in numerous reputable businesses within the Wizarding World, and owned a popular magical creature shop in Paris operated by a small wizarding family with the last name of Lefevre.

What would have normally been broken up amongst the Ancient and Noble Houses was all hers.

The responding uproar at the witch's change in status was not surprising. Hermione herself was overwhelmed. The Prophet dragged her through the mud despite the fact she was a member of the Golden Trio, while the Quibbler heavily praised the Ministry for the brave political step forward. Cameras flashed in her eyes, determined stalkers hindered her studies, and the constant ambushes by reporters nearly drove her to hex numerous important members of the press. Harry comforted Hermione, being all too familiar with the antics of the Wizarding news providers. Ron offered to personally hex the reporters himself.

But in reality, the bequeathment served multiple purposes. It was a sign of thanks from the Ministry for being one of the three instrumental fighters in the War, it was a progressive move to break the traditions of the Ancient and Noble Houses, and it gave Hermione a clear idea of what her future should be.

Politics.

Being a Head of a Youthful and Honorable House earned the witch a seat on the Wizengamot, and the ability to have a say in Magical law. She could form alliances and gain political weight, ensuring that none of the more traditionalist pure-blooded families did not set their society back ever again. Respect was now demanded of any notable magical family, something a Muggleborn witch such as herself would normally never receive. Playing at changing laws for house elves when she was younger was nothing compared to what she could very well accomplish. The opportunity to possibly become more, to take on the role of a consultant for the British Ministry, an influential member of British Magical society and an ambassador on an international scale… Oh, how it called to her! She could push forward the next great Golden Age for her people almost single-handedly!

Fifteen years later? Hermione Granger, Head of the Youthful and Honorable House of Granger, had built a formidable platform from which she could maintain the side of Light in more than just her government. The Dark still existed, but it was kept well in check across the Magical world. House traditions still existed, but no longer was it exclusively practiced by the Sacred Twenty-Eight. There were seven Youthful and Honorable Houses, Muggleborn or Half-blood houses with the same status as those of the Ancient and Noble houses, with hers at the top. Harry grew into his status as a Head of both the Black and Potter Houses, holding the most power amongst the Ancient and Noble Houses. He pioneered the realm of muggle-magical medicine, mixing potions with pharmaceuticals. He was also distinguished for possessing the Order of Merlin, First Class. Ron was the Head of the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in charge of the entire Auror Office. He held an Order of Merlin, Second Class. She served as both an official consultant to the British Ministry and an ambassadorial member of the United Union of Magical Governments for her country. She too, held an Order of Merlin, Second Class.

And now Hermione flooed to the United Union with the sole intent to assess the possibility of Hydra infiltration.

Much like the Ministry, it was near impossible to enter the international meeting place for Wizards beyond floo network or specialized secret entrances. Muggles couldn't accidentally stumble upon it. While many assumed that the Ministry was buried deep underground in Westminster away from prying eyes, it was in fact a large-scale magical construct. If Hermione was forced to explain it in more basic terms, she would say it was one extremely detailed Undetectable Extension charm that created something questionably like a pocket-dimension, if one ever read any decent science fiction Muggle novels. The United Union was created in the exact same fashion, though one could create an entrance to it instead of seeking a well-hidden entrance someplace on Whitehall street. If a United Union member wished to reach the meeting place, one simply spoke the phrase "with unity comes great power and understanding," tapping their wand five times against their head whilst spinning on their heels to apparate. Then they would find themselves transported to the United Union entry hall, in all its glaring white marble glory. Of course, one could also use the very complex floo network stationed there. It was much more convenient than dancing around and muttering a phrase. Wizards were peculiar like that.

Upon exiting the ornate fireplace, Hermione strolled through the nearest open doorway to the United Union entry hall, the green flames snuffing out behind her. Men and women crowded around in groups, though there were some like herself who maneuvered through the clot to pass through the high arch of carved obsidian. Magical creatures from all corners of the world frolicked about the pillars before melding back into the black volcanic glass. It gave the illusion of living stone. The ceilings, floors, and walls were pure white marble, with accents of various semi-precious stones decorating the pale rock. A short hallway from the main archway opened up into a breathtaking dome of rock. Doorways split off in various directions, made from varied types of stone found in differing parts of the world. The open rotunda was comparable to the center of the Earth, where veins of metal, precious stones, rock, and minerals blended together harmoniously into a single entity. At the center, a statue of a gnarled tree stood like a lonely tower. It was neither bark nor rock, flesh or bone, dead or alive. Some of the more ornery European wizards called it Yggdrasil, or a physical interpretation of it that manifested via raw magic. Wizards from Mexico called it the World Tree. Select representatives called it the Tree Mother. The tree brooded over all passing magical individuals, completely bare of leaves. It had a rough bark exterior with a topography capable of intimidating even the most hardy of men.

But she wasn't a man. Hermione absently glanced at the tall watcher without a single drop of fear before darting for the archway that lead to the representative offices of Africa. The witch kept walking past the various open doorways, wandering interns, snacking politicians, and flustered assistants. Her destination was located at the back of the wing in the biggest office. Wakanda was engraved and painted in gold over the vibranium archway leading into the open space.

Upon entering, there were four desks for four Wakandan politicians. Three were sitting in their chairs, one was absent. In the back of the room was a door leading into the private office of the King of Wakanda. A desk for his secretary was situated a foot away.

"Hello," Hermione greeted, walking up to the secretary's desk. "Is King T'Chaka in his office? I must speak with him about a recent development."

The woman shook her head. "No, Ambassador Granger. The King had urgent business at the palace. Prince T'Challa, however, is here in his place."

"Is he free? I need speak to someone from the royal family about this matter."

"He has no meetings today," the secretary said with a smile. "Go in."

Hermione quickly opened the office door and swiftly closed it behind her. She watched as T'Challa looked up from his kimoyo beads behind an aged oak desk, a smile breaking out across his face.

"Hermione Granger!" he exclaimed happily, "It's good to see you!"

The witch couldn't help but smile back as he stood, quickly walking around the desk to hug her friend's taller form. "It's good to see you too, T'Challa! How is Shuri?"

"Fine, though she wishes you'd get around to visiting her lab within the next year. She misses the intelligent conversation, or so she says."

The witch chuckled, pulling away. "I can't deny I miss our conversations. She completely outstrips that annoying American inventor. What was his name…?"

"Anthony Stark?" T'Challa offered. He looked close to laughing.

"Yes, that!" she exclaimed. "His name always slips my mind, you know."

"So says the woman whose job is to watch the developments of the 'advancing Muggles' for your government," he jokes.

She waved her hand dismissively, "It's always dramatic shows and scandals with him. Idle chatter with no real bite. You and I both know that between the Magical Community and Wakanda's unique hybrid technology, the billionaire's a stickman in a soup can."

"That is true. Now," T'Challa said, moving back to his place behind the room's dominating desk, "What has brought you to Wakanda's United Union office? You've not had the time or the need to talk to us for some time. My family does not hold it against you. You're an ambassador in high demand these last few years. But your abrupt appearance is... curious. Why now, my friend?"

Hermione, in that moment, wanted to cast every ward and charm she knew to ensure not a single word she spoke could be heard by anyone outside the office. However, she already knew every possible protective spell was in place in the room. It was protocol at the United Union, in fact. And she could feel the complex magic humming in the air, so there was no need. The witch wouldn't be surprised if there was also Wakandan security tech hidden someplace. But Merlin, was she as tense as a pressurized spring! All those papers, the recountings, the little red book… it all suddenly hit her at once. She grabbed the chair that sat opposite his, one meant for visitors, and dropped down into it like lead. T'Challa's serious face quickly morphed into concern.

"Hermione?"

She took a fortifying breath. "What I'm about to tell you is possibly the greatest conspiracy in all of American muggle history. So great, in fact, it has most likely affected numerous foreign governments as well."

T'Challa tensed in seconds. It reminded her of his station in his African kingdom, the Black Panther. He was a hunter keen to leap.

"Just what have you been doing all this time?" he questioned again, tone grave.

"I've been working with the usual suspects ever since 2012. MI6, various governments within the EU, anything the British Ministry requires me to consult on. The Magical World is very terrified of the unknown, especially when it comes to the Avengers and other enhanced individuals like them. Though, admittedly, you are exempt upon the grounds of your country being part of the Magical Community as much as the Muggle Community and a key political figure in the United Union."

"Then what has changed, Hermione? Speak plainly."

"Just yesterday, the Aurors discovered that one remaining follower of Voldemort was living in Cleveland, Ohio in America. The Department was hysterical upon learning this, and Ron was moments away from pulling his hair out. I intervened. I also personally wanted to handle this Dark supporter myself. He was a Russian squib, smuggling artefacts, rare potion materials, and utilizing muggle labor. We invaded his home, caught him. The Auror I was working with wanted me to locate the contraband and the documents pertaining to them. But instead…"

"You found more than that," T'Challa finished.

Hermione eyes almost watered with unshed tears. "So much more, T'Challa. I don't want to assume you have any foreknowledge of World War II history, but do you know anything about Hydra?"

"I will admit that I had not taken much interest in war history during my schooling in America, but I have some idea of what Hydra is. It was an extremist group that wanted world domination as much as Adolf Hitler's Nazis, correct?"

The witch nodded. "At one point, Hydra had been a branch of the Nazi regime. Science, specifically. That was until its head, Johann Schmidt, decided his plans were better than the Fuhrer's and broke away. The Allies fought a war against the Axis and Hydra. Schmidt believed that the only way the world could ever reach perfection was through creating a world of super humans upon the remains of modern civilization. Hyper-superiority and the like."

"Hadn't Captain America, the leader of that new Avengers team, almost single-handedly destroy Hydra? Or is that an American exaggeration?"

"Captain America had a team of men―the Howling Commandos―that destroyed countless Hydra bases and fought in pivotal battles during the War beside him. Not including the Captain, there were six soldiers. Four American, one British, and one ex-French Resistance. Together with an MI6 agent named Margaret Carter and the Colonel in charge of the operation, they stopped Hydra."

"But it doesn't sound as though you think they are gone," remarked T'Challa, his eyes steadily trained on her face. Hermione wasn't surprised he picked up on it; he was always a painfully observant man.

"No. And that's what I learned from those papers, T'Challa," the witch said with growing anguish, "Hydra never died. Instead it waited until the right moment and latched onto the American government like a parasite! The western world has this intelligence collective known as the World Security Council. It's a mockery of a war council, one that waits until the next big crisis to act from the shadows. All of the intelligence agencies are involved. MI6, CIA, all of them. I've attended their meetings, met the personnel. I represented the Magical World under the false title of 'Head of the ESEI,' to maintain the Statute and keep watch over things. The representative for SHIELD, America's intelligence organization for enhanced individuals and would-be threats, is the current ringleader of Hydra! I never even gave that ridiculous acronym of an organization a single moment of consideration, but I should have! Morgan's girdle, I should have! They have the Winter Soldier! Hydra has, quite honestly, shaped the world as it saw fit while claiming they were protecting the world!"

"Hermione, slow down! Who is the Winter Soldier? And what kind of acronym is ESEI?"

"ESEI is horrible short-hand for European Surveillance of Enhanced Individuals. It sounds like some poor bloke is demanding an essay, with the way it's pronounced. It's completely fake, just some rubbish thrown together for a cover. That's not important. The Winter Soldier, T'Challa, is a Muggle-killing machine."

"What do you mean?"

"In 1945, one James Buchanan Barnes fell from a speeding train in the Swiss Alps while Captain America and the Howling Commandos were running a mission to capture a key Hydra scientist. He was Captain America's best friend since childhood and second-in-command. By unknown forces or luck, James survived what should have been a fatal fall. He lost his arm. From what the documents said, Hydra-affiliated Russians found him and kept him. They tortured him, experimented on him, and turned a soldier from New York City into an emotionless one-man army. They gave him an advanced prosthetic meant to withstand anything and destroy anything. It's made out of steel-vibranium alloy, which I can only assume they somehow stole from Wakanda. He has over fifty kills recorded, but the documents comment that only high-profile targets were ever given written reports. And what's worse, this American hero is still within their clutches! Hydra is still using him to create their new world order! They keep him in a glorified icebox, for Merlin's sake!"

T'Challa reached out a calming hand, gripping her arm. Hermione couldn't help but grasp at it back, trying yet again not to cry.

"I have no words for what you have just told me. This changes everything."

"I know," she chokes, "I know. The United Union, when they find out about this, will want to cut ties with Muggles entirely. Ron and all the other Auror departments involved in the United Union are going to be running catch and clean-up for decades. The Union will want to pass laws that force Muggleborns to never return to their families once they come into their magic, and all my work with the Minister will be thrown aside for conservative, pureblood-supported policies, both in my Magical government and internationally. If I want to resolve this, it has to be done carefully."

"Then why did you come to me, Hermione? It's not that I won't do my best to help you, but Wakanda's policy in the realm of politics has always been careful. We do not offer our technology or magical knowledge just because we can; you know this."

"I understand that," she said, straightening herself, "But I've come to you, T'Challa, because I need to know where my allies' loyalty lies. I can't let the ship sink so soon after it has left harbor. Wakanda has unfailingly stayed uncorrupt and on the side of the Light, and Wakanda's skills in surveillance outclass every intelligence agency on the planet. I came to you because I needed to tell someone, and Wakanda needs to be prepared for anything. If Hydra has its hands in the muggle governments, it won't be long before their pro-superiority ideals entice the purebloods. With the changing times, those old-fashioned fools might actually think those insane muggles could actually help them! Then anyone within the United Union is at risk, including Wakanda. I want your country to be safe and I want to be warned when the thrice-damned sea monster is about to rip the Magical World into shreds."

The prince sat silently, staring, for a time. Hermione felt like she might fidget into oblivion. Eventually, he spoke.

"I thank you, Hermione, for telling me," the prince said earnestly, determinedly. "Your trust in Wakanda and my family is not misplaced. I will tell my father, our wardog officials stationed in this office, and the tribal heads. Expect me or my father to contact you in the coming days. While Wakanda's isolationist policy still stands with the muggles and we are conservative towards those within the Magical World, you have proven over the years to be the one loyal foreign ally we truly have. I am sure my father will feel as I do in this matter. And Hermione? If you at any point fear that you have been discovered, use this."

Opening a drawer from the king's desk, the prince drew out a polished panther fang tied to a woven braid of leather. Shiny little vibranium beads littered the intricate pattern. He placed it in her small hand.

"It is a specialized portkey that will send you directly to the throne room of the palace upon saying an assigned safeword. Do not hesitate to use it, my friend. And, even if you appear when there is no cause for concern, Shuri and my mother will be quite happy to entertain you after so long."

The witch squeezed the item tightly. "What is the word?"

T'Challa smiled. "Ramonda."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Your father is ridiculously romantic. Of course his way home is her name."

T'Challa chuckled, patting her shoulder. "Please, Hermione. Stay safe."

She nodded firmly, walking towards the door. "The same can be said for you. Constant vigilance, and tell your father as soon as I leave! I have well over twenty offices to politely interrogate, and I dearly hope none of them have been infiltrated. It will make my job easier, and this entire mess much more manageable."

"I will. Good luck, Hermione. Ikhefu ngoku."

Hermione guffawed. "Ha! I will need that in spades!"

It takes Hermione a little over two weeks to determine the state of the various magical offices in the United Union of Magical Governments building. King T'Chaka of Wakanda contacts her long before her task is finished via floo, conveying his serious gratitude for the information she imparted and agreeing to alert her if anything exceptionally dire occurs. The witch is happy to know that her close friends in the United Union, including those in the Wakandan offices, are still with the Light. She feared that one or two British Magical officials had been bought, or perhaps persuaded with Hydra propaganda. But she didn't have to worry, thankfully. And T'Challa had unleashed his sister on America's private government servers. It was almost guaranteed that Shuri would find piles upon piles of evidence to prove the existence of a Hydra infestation.

But Hermione did have some cause for concern. Some officials she talked to who kept in contact with their muggle colleagues had been approached a handful of times with… money dealings. Nothing explicit, but there were questionable topics implied with each hinted bribe. With a little subtle Legilimens, Hermione confirmed that none of them had been lying when they told her muggle money held no sway over them. Some of the officials had been pushed more than others, such as the Russian, Romanian, German, Spanish, and Moroccan ambassadors. It made sense to an extent, seeing as the most likely wizards and witches to turn on the United Union of Magical Governments were usually from those countries. Russia, Romania, and Germany were known breeding grounds for dark wizards. One didn't have to be a witch or wizard to know that. Spain had always been quick to take bribes and ask no questions. The behavior of their muggles during World War II was evidence enough for that. Morocco held the reputation for having the most talented duelists in the Magical World, with Britain as a close second. Hermione didn't completely understand why Hydra would target Morocco, but there was a chance they thought the ambassador was a push-over. The poor man was only just over five feet.

Even worse, however, was the American Magical politician and what he had to say.

"I haven't been in contact with my muggle liaison in three months, Granger. My colleagues and I have been keeping it on the down-low, but everything's a fucking mess in our departments. Aurors have been going missing, and a few have been found dead. I was told by Bill-my muggle liaison-to go radio silent. He was beginning to suspect that some of the officials in his offices were acting as informants for an unknown party. Bill's no dumbass, and if he thinks people are trying to find out about the Magical Community, he's probably not wrong."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Why haven't you come forward and told me any of this sooner, Mr. Walker? Are you yankees that desperate to save face in front of the other countries? I can be discreet."

"Are you kidding? If we admitted this sooner than now, you'd have crusaded through our departments and left no one alive! Between you and the rest of the Golden Trio, you'd rip us apart in the name of maintaining the equilibrium. It'd be the biggest scandal since the Crusades. But now? After you've dug up evidence yourself? We don't look so bad."

Hermione scoffed, eyes alight with a queer glimmer as her wild hair seemed to come alive.

In three days, she had Eric Walker sacked, reorganized his offices with a better politician in his place, and quietly slipped instructions to a very powerful American House head to clean up their United Union wing under threat of very damning blackmail. Magical America was cowed, and three other countries-Mexico, Canada, and France-stayed clear of her office out of fear. They knew better to stand in her sight. Such an action was asking for Death to drag them to Hell.

But that proved to Hermione that there was indeed a problem in America, and it was attempting to find its way into the Magical Community. It disgusted and worried the witch so much, she took five days leave to try and calm her nerves. The witch had plenty of holiday time saved up.

The day she returned from her break, Harry called her via the floo.

"Malfoy visited me just two days ago, said you were causing a right uproar in the Union."

"Hello to you too, Harry," the witch said with a smile. "How's St. Mungos?"

"All well and good, surprisingly. A number of my new treatments are working, I've only been yelled at by four mediwizards this week, and all the sister hospitals seem to be flourishing. Kreacher swiped some of the silverware. But enough of me, just what are you doing to make Malfoy threaten to throw you in the Thames?"

"Muggle America's causing problems for Magical America, and their problems could very well leak into other countries if I don't kill them off at the source. I had Eric Walker sacked and reorganized the American Offices at the Union."

Harry chuckled, the kind of laugh that managed to sound both amused yet intimidated. "Merlin, Hermione, you're still as terrifying as you were back in fourth year."

"Politics is cut-throat business, Harry. And I wasn't that bad back in those days."

"...You kept Rita Skeeter in her animagus form inside a jar. The woman lives in an entirely different country because she's still terrified you'll come after her for more favors."

"Serves her right for writing all that ridiculous slander during the Tournament," Hermione huffed, taking a sip of tea.

He sighed. "Either way, you need to be careful. Malfoy's been hearing some questionable chatter from his American pureblood friends, and none of it is at all encouraging."

Hermione dropped all pretenses. "Like what exactly?"

"More vemenant discussions about purity and the strength of their bloodlines, having contact with like-minded folk who also agree with hyper superiority. The name Hydra came up, and Malfoy has no idea who they are. He tried to ask, but they talked around him. They know he talks to me, and that you'd come knocking if you caught wind of them."

The witch felt her veins turn to ice.

"...So they are trying to sway the purebloods..." she muttered, expression hardening.

"Hermione?"

"Are you completely sure Malfoy said Hydra? Absolutely sure?"

"Yes, of course. Hermione, what's going on?"

"Nothing you should get involved in," Hermione answered shortly. "With your habit of rushing into disasters, you'll actually get yourself killed this time."

"And you won't?" Harry's face in the flames held that famous frown of his. He was getting agitated.

"I've had my fair share of assassination attempts. None of them have succeeded. After all we went through during the War, do you really think I'm helpless?'

"You need backup."

"I have backup," she insisted.

"Who?"

"T'Challa and the entire Wakandan royal family. And their War Dogs, from what I understand."

"Merlin's beard, Hermione!" He yelled, "What did you bloody stumble upon, an international conspiracy?!"

"Actually, yes."

Her best friend stared, face blank. "...You're not kidding."

"Unfortunately no."

"Merlin's hairy ass," her friend cursed, his floating visage looking rather frustrated. "Just promise me you'll ask us for help. Me, Ron, any of our friends. If it's got anything to do with dark magic, Lupin would happily help out his favorite student when he isn't taking care of Teddy. Hell, Neville would probably take paid vacation time away from Hogwarts for you. Maybe even Luna."

"Malfoy's not on the list?" she joked.

"You would need to send him a box of Mrs. Weasley's treacle tarts first."

"Fair enough."

"... Stay safe, Hermione."

She sighed, feeling the weight of her over thirty or so years rather suddenly. "Bye, Harry."