Chapter XXVIII: Answers and Questions

Hermione let Tonks and Moody lead her inside, to an abandoned classroom. Harry went with her to the door, as she wasn't going to let a stranger help her walk, but he wasn't allowed to enter. That was the first clue Hermione got that there were going to be some serious questions coming her way. Steeling herself for yet another round of being accused of being Slytherin's heir, this time by people who legally had the power to act on their suspicions, she bid Harry and Luna farewell.

She only meant until later that night, or probably on the morrow in Luna's case, yet there was a niggling worry she wouldn't be seeing them for a while. How long can the Ministry hold a suspect without bringing charges?

Tonks offered to guide her to a chair, to which Hermione simply had her tap the furniture in question a couple of times and found it herself. Her hearing may have been nowhere close to echolocation, but it was amazing what the senses could do if one only stopped to listen. Being treated as if her blindness made her useless didn't piss her off half as much as the half hour she had to wait, after the aurors had come to find her, before they bothered to interview her.

"Glass of water before we start?" Tonks offered, to which Hermione, having recently come from dinner, shook her head.

There was also the fact she didn't entirely trust them not to spike it with a drop or two of veritaserum.

"Alright then. We'll be recording this interview with a dicta-quill, so you're aware," the auror continued.

"Am I being charged with something?" Hermione checked immediately, because if so then she would be lawyering up before another word left her mouth.

"No," Tonks replied, quizzically. "Is there something we should be charging you with?"

The combination of gentle, probing tone and stupid question told Hermione she was dealing with adults who thought they were dealing with a child. They were, of course, but Hermione was quick to dissuade them of the notion that she was an average child.

"That's a 'no comment' question if ever I heard one," she deadpanned. "So: No comment."

Moody chuckled, seemingly in approval.

"Right, uh, we're just asking some questions about Penelope."

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about her disappearance. I can't recall ever speaking to her."

Hermione thought her response should make it entirely clear they were barking up the wrong tree.

"We did have some other questions, about the situation as a whole," Tonks replied, so quickly Hermione doubted she had intended to spend more than a moment on the disappearance anyway; directly, at least.

"Let me guess; 'am I the heir of Slytherin?" Hermione mocked, folding her hands in her lap and reclining as her small modicum of respect for the auror woman faded fast.

"And if I ask that question, I'm guessing I get a no comment?" Tonks shot back, re-finding her cheeky tone.

At least she isn't entirely useless. Although, since it feels like we're on opposite sides here, that might not be a good thing.

"Try it and see."

"Are you the heir of Slytherin."

Hermione let the question hang, her smirk slowly growing, before answering; "no comment."

"Do you intend to answer any of our questions?" Moody asked in a threatening growl.

"When you get to the sensible ones, absolutely," Hermione promised, spreading her hands in supplication.

She wasn't actually trying to piss the authorities off, because she enjoyed having her wrists not in handcuffs, or whatever it was magical enforcement used. Based on what she knew of their prison system, a full body bind wouldn't surprise her.

"Sensible questions then," Tonks agreed. "You had no relation to Miss Clearwater, correct?"

"Correct."

"Where were you on the evening of her disappearance."

Hermione started a little at how quickly they were after an alibi. She hoped they were only looking to rule her out as a suspect, but it didn't really matter whether they were or not, because her answer was the most suspicious excuse she could imagine. It was also true. And only she herself could be sure of that.

"I was in the library. Then I don't remember, because I hit my head on a flight of stairs."

She chose not to mention her belief she had been pushed just yet; no need to complicate a situation she was trying to figure her way out of.

"Yes, we have Pomfrey's medical report here," Tonks said, audibly leafing through a file. "She confirms that you have injuries consistent with falling down a staircase, and professor Lockhart confirmed he found you at the base of one," - Hermione realised then what the half hour's wait had been for, as they must have spoken to others about her - "but you presented with only a mild concussion?"

The accusation was wrapped up in gentle language and indirect questioning, but Hermione was good with words and their true meanings. They think I'm lying.

Her heart was starting to race by the time she answered; "I wouldn't know; I wasn't in much of a state to assess my own condition."

Immediately she cursed herself, and her damned verbose vocabulary; her answer sounded so structured they might think she'd rehearsed it, like a liar would have. Better to lose her composure and start babbling like a little schoolgirl, but no, anxious Hermione just had to be defensive, articulate Hermione too. She considered herself a girl of many talents, but playing dumb was not among them. It was simply too big a lie.

"So Madam Pomfrey says. Do you have any idea how long your loss of memory stretches for?"

Two hours or so in the library, Lockhart found me at… Sometime after curfew…

"Not a clue, sorry. Didn't check my watch when Lockhart woke me up."

Oh, and keep sassing them too? Stupid Hermione. Stupid.

"Lockhart gave us a good idea of when you were found," Tonks explained, which should have been logically obvious, though she conspicuously didn't say what that time was.

"Oh. Uh, I was in the library from, uhm, and there for… so the last thing I remember would have been at... about half an hour before curfew?" Hermione thought out loud.

"You left the library at that time?" Tonks prompted.

"No, I don't recall leaving. I was just moving on to-" Hermione cut herself off as she realised she was about to indirectly tell a pair of aurors, ex- and junior it didn't matter, she had been in the restricted section.

"Moving on to…?" Tonks repeated.

Hermione knew she had been caught. Had been too slow to check herself. The bait wasn't yet taken, but she had thrown herself into a net that would only get tighter until she relented.

"On to books on magical creatures. I was trying to find possibilities for 'Slytherin's monster', if such a thing exists."

"You think you'll find that sort of thing in a school library?" Moody grunted, unimpressed.

Hermione said nothing. There was no winning move, so she retained the dignity of not overtly making a losing one. Moody got to do it for her.

"Only place that might have that is the depths of the restricted section… which is where you were, isn't it?"

"Oops?" Hermione whispered, squirming in her chair.

"Fortunately for you, minor trespass is only a crime if the property owner opts to press charges," Tonks informed her, "and Hogwarts is so infamously bad at involving the legal authorities, we needn't even bother reporting it to them."

"You're not going to…?" Hermione gasped, in awe at her wildly pivoting luck.

"Not for a one-time event," Moody growled. "That place is restricted for a reason, child. Dark magic and its like are not to be trifled with. Best stay away in future, hear?"

Hermione could have launched into her usual lecture on the preposterousness of 'dark' magic. Instead she nodded submissively. Picking your battles is half the war.

"Not like Dumbledore ever lets us know what's going on inside these walls," Moody grumbled. "We're only returning the favour."

"You don't like the headmaster?" Hermione blurted out.

"He's a good enough man. Damn handy in a tight spot, I can tell you that. But his naivety… He thinks too highly of his fellow man, and it gets people hurt. Got people killed."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Hermione huffed, wondering how differently her last year could have gone with someone like Moody in charge of student safety.

"No kidding," he replied, sympathy entering his voice for the first time. "I know what it's like to lose an eye; can't imagine for both."

Hermione remembered then she'd heard his name once before, in St Mungo's. The healers had been trying to fit her with prosthetic eyes, 'like Alastor Moody's', until they found her optic nerves were shot to hell.

"I can't recommend it," she quipped, not minding the borderline pity so much when it came from someone who'd been there - or close, at least.

"Now, before we move on…" Tonks interrupted, a little impatiently, "I'll just say; if you were to be faking memory loss as a way to get out of trouble for sneaking into the restricted section, this is your one opportunity to admit it without being charged for obstruction of justice. Anything you'd like to tell us?"

Understanding the logic didn't stop Hermione rankling at the accusation.

"I'm not faking anything," she snapped. "I wish I could remember; I really do. Then I might know who pushed me."

Tonks inhaled loudly before asking; "pushed?"

"Yes, I was… I think I was pushed. I don't fall down stairs; it just doesn't happen, I'm always so careful. And I have this, this feeling, like… Like a half-remembered dream. A hand on my back, a sense of fear, then nothing."

"Not much to go on," Moody said, "but I'll get Bones to open an inquiry. With all the sniffing around she's finally allowed to do here, maybe we'll turn something up?"

"Thank you, that would… that would be good," Hermione muttered.

Her theory sounded lame out in the open air, but the aurors were taking it seriously. It was their job, she supposed, to investigate a crime as serious as this, yet she hoped they would treat it as a little more than a formality.

"Why would someone do that to you?" Tonks asked, audibly shaken. Clearly their casing of me didn't turn up everything.

"I've been bullied ever since I found Mrs Norris petrified. We thought it was mostly stopping," Hermione lamented, hanging her head as it occurred to her just what it could mean.

Someone was still out to get her, and maybe Harry too. Someone was scared, or angry, enough to go to desperate measures, and she had no idea who. The Gryffindor girls hadn't told her why they were spending the whole day in the infirmary with her, but she had figured it out, which warmed her heart even as it froze over in dread.

"Sorry to say our hands are mostly tied when it comes to bullying here… short of actual assault, that is," Tonks told her, sounding none too happy about it.

She was young, probably only a couple of years out of Hogwarts herself, and Hermione wondered if she had her own fresh memories of poor treatment. Something must have inspired her to go into law enforcement.

The three sat for a moment, until Moddy coughed pointedly.

"I think we're done with our questions," Tonks said at the prompting. "Is there anything you'd like to volunteer, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stopped and thought for a moment, with a feeling she had forgotten something. It came to her quickly enough; lost in her emotion, she had forgotten the whole conversation was recorded.

"What happens now? With the recording and whatnot?"

"Don't worry about that," Tonks laughed, "the filing system at the Ministry is an absolute mess - within a week we wouldn't be able to find this if we wanted to. I'll have to fill out a separate bit of parchment just so your stairs-incident-thing doesn't get lost too."

"There won't be any… action, against me, will there?"

"Officially, I can't say."

"No, of course."

"You're happy to end the interview then?"

"Sure."

"Alright. Interview ended; dicta-quill ceased."

Hermione relaxed, but Tonks wasn't quite done.

"Unofficially…" she picked up, "I don't think you've got too much to worry about - unless you really are guilty, in which we're totally going to get you."

"Tonks," Moody growled, menacingly.

"What?" she exclaimed, "don't tell me you really think she did it? I mean, when's the last time a felon threw themselves down a bleedin' staircase for an alibi?"

"Nineteen-sixty-eight," Moody replied. "Wasn't a schoolkid though. And she does seem to lack motive… Clearwater's pals only knew of Granger because… Alright, she seems clean enough."

"Thank you," Tonks enthused, with Hermione quietly echoing her. "Now we can focus on catching whoever really is the heir, eh?"

"You can," Moody retorted. "I'm telling Bones if she wants any more from me, she can pay me triple what she offered before I quit."

"Budget can't support that, Moody."

"That's the point."

"Sorry," Hermione interjected, "can I go? Only I expect Harry's waiting for me…"

"Oh, yes, of course," Tonks apologised, "we'll be in touch if we need you again. We know where to find you," she added with false menace, ending in a barely controlled giggle.

Hermione shook her head at the antics. Nice as it was to feel the woman was trusting her, 'bad cop' was definitely Moody's part.

"Say, actually," Tonks continued, "think you could introduce me to Harry properly?"

"He doesn't appreciate Boy-Who-Lived fans," Hermione warned.

"What? Oh, on it's not that. I'm his cousin, see? Second cousin once removed or somesuch, never could get my head around how that works, and most pureblood families are related somehow, but I thought I should check in, say hi, you know?"

"You're related? I didn't think Harry had wizarding family."

"No, he's got loads! No one close, I don't think; pretty sure he's the only Potter, but his nan was Dorea Black. My mum was a Black too, once, that's how we're related. Not that I think either of us would want anything to do with the main Black line, dark buggers the lot of them."

What Hermione said was: "Oh, right. I'll, uh, introduce you then."

What she thought was: Where in the actual fuck have you been for the past decade? The Harry I know only has a few relatives, and he hates them so much he never says more than a few words about them. Oh, and it's likely one of them was the one to push him down the stairs at some point, which has recently become a sore point for me. So frankly, how fucking dare you show up now, out of the blue, and only want to speak to him as an afterthought? If you didn't otherwise seem like a decent sort, I'd be hexing you right about now, auror or not.

Her pain potion having worn off and not being allowed another for an hour or so had nothing to do with her annoyance, she was sure.

"Brill," Tonks beamed.

"This isn't a social visit, Tonks," Moody reminded her.

"Good thing you aren't my boss then, Moody."

"Remind me why I like you again?" he muttered.

"I wasn't aware you did," she joked as she stood from her chair. "Come on then, Granger, I'll get the door."

Hermione followed her out the room, repeatedly reminding herself that her opinion of Harry's family wasn't as important as his; if he wanted to know them after all this time, that was his choice, and his alone. She would support him in it, albeit silently and reluctantly. If he didn't want Tonks there, she would help that come to pass quite happily, too.

Harry tried not to pace outside the room. He didn't put his ear against door, only because last time he tried it had been unnaturally silent, as though someone had erected privacy charms, which was blindingly obvious in hindsight. Luna wasn't much company, having decided to spend some time staring into space and humming. Eventually his mind wandered, though never far, and so he did jump a little when the door opened without warning.

"Hermione, are- ah, sir, ma'am," he tilted his head respectfully on seeing and remembering the company she was in.

"Wotcher Harry," Tonks chirped with a broad grin, making him feel even more awkward about his instinctual stiff formality.

"Uh, wot-cha," he replied.

"It means hello," Moody grunted, limping past the mousy woman who had stopped in the doorway, incidentally blocking Hermione's exit. "Apparently."

Harry just nodded at his helpful explanation, as his focus shifted to Hermione. She looked very severe, with a grimace and an upright but tense bearing about her. It wasn't always easy to read her, with only half a face to go by, but right then she was clearly and undoubtedly annoyed. Angry, even.

"You ok, Hermione?" he asked.

She stepped to Tonks' side and gestured like a waiter serving wine.

"Harry, this is Ms Tonks," she said through gritted teeth. "She's your cousin, through your grandmother. She'd like to meet you. Finally."

Of all the responses he had spent the past half hour imagining, that one took him by surprise, and it had a lot to unpack. Why was Hermione more interested in introducing the auror than saying how she was? Did that mean she was fine, or so bad she was refusing to talk about it? Since when did he have family outside the Dursleys? And why did Hermione not seem at all happy, not just in general, but about delivering that news specifically?

He tried to buy himself a little more time to think by extending a hand in wordless greeting. Tonks took it, more energetically than she had earlier, and gave it a vigorous and deeply unpleasant shaking. He looked to Hermione for help of some kind, but she had gone over to join Luna.

"Harry, sorry I didn't say anything earlier, but business first, you know?"

Being a schoolchild, he didn't. He could suppose it was akin to chores before dinner, or homework before Quidditch - a rule Wood vehemently opposed, with Weasley support - so he went with that and smiled knowingly.

"Hi," he eventually said, as it became clear it was his turn to speak and that wasn't changing any time soon. He finally got his hand back as a reward.

"Hi," Tonks parroted. "So, uh, how are you?"

"Fine? You know, considering," Harry addended, waving his hand around to indicate everything that was going on.

"Mm, nasty business. I'll get to the bottom of it though, or my name isn't… y'know, scratch that thought, but we'll have it all sorted."

"I hope so. I'm sick of all this… well, this," Harry bemoaned, aborting at the end before he spilled his heart out to a stranger.

"Don't blame ya, kiddo. Now, sorry, but I'm technically on the clock, so… gotta dash," Tonks apologised.

"Oh, that's fine," he sighed, equal parts disappointed and relieved at the conversation ending prematurely. "Another time," he suggested, polite on autopilot.

"Yeah, catch ya later, alligator," Tonks sang before scurrying after Moody, who hadn't stopped stomping away.

"Bye," Harry called out weakly after her.

"Well that sounded painfully awkward," Hermione observed, leaning on a wall. "I'll bet you're glad she's gone, though."

"Why?" Harry asked, puzzled at Hermione's combative attitude. "She's family."

"Family that only just bothered to introduce itself."

"Oh," he huffed, the implications not lost on him, and a familiar disappointment descending over his mood. "I didn't think."

"Good thing I do that for the both of us," Hermione joked, but her voice stayed flat, and hard.

"I'm sorry," Luna suddenly said, "did you say something, Hermione?"

Ginny was there to meet them on returning to the common room, acting a lot more lively than at dinner; too lively, in fact. Her glumness had turned to anxiety sometime in the past hour.

"Hey, Hermione," she called as they entered, surprising her to be singled out over Harry, or even Luna who entered with them as not to break the three-person rule. Ginny was only really her friend through them, after all.

"Hey Ginny."

"So, uh, you talked to the aurors then?"

It sounded like she was fishing for something; subtlety wasn't the girl's forte.

"Yes. Turns out-"

"What did you say to them? About Clearwater?"

"I, uh, nothing much."

"You didn't tell them?"

"Tell them what?"

"I don't know, how would I know?" she snapped, weirdly defensive.

"Well I didn't tell them anything because I don't know anything, do I?" Hermione defended herself in turn. "I hardly remember a thing."

"Oh," Ginny said, audibly deflating. "Sorry. I'm really sorry, I just… It's just… She was Percy's girlfriend, you know, and he won't say but I think he wanted to ask, so I thought I should ask, and just forget I said anything, please?"

"It's alright Ginny," Hermione sighed, too weary to get annoyed. "We're all stressed out."

"I'm not," Luna contributed quietly.

"Yeah. Stress. Definitely stressed," Ginny agreed. "So you don't know anything about it? And your library research?"

"Turned up nothing. All I got for my efforts was this," she moaned, pointing to her slung arm.

"Oh. Oh, sorry. Really sorry."

"Not your fault; don't apologise."

"Right. I'll uh, let you sit down… you look a bit pale," Ginny pointed out cautiously.

"You don't look too flush yourself," Harry said, concerned.

"I'm fine," she squeaked. "Just stressed. Tired."

"I find sleep is good for tiredness," Luna suggested. "Or eating coffee beans, but they taste terrible."

"Yeah, thanks Luna," Hermione huffed. "Actually, sleep would be nice. I think I'm going to go collapse on my bed."

She wouldn't admit it, but the simple act of walking was taking its toll on her. Pomfrey had prescribed considerable bedrest, and the matron obviously knew what she was talking about. All Hermione's energy was going to the magically accelerated healing process; the potions didn't provide energy for regrowing shattered bones and knitting together flesh, they only caused it to happen faster, making a mess of Hermione's metabolism as a result.

She climbed the stairs slowly on three limbs; it would have been all fours had she possessed four that worked. When she reached her bed, there was no bothering to change, brush teeth or even undress; she collapsed just as she said she would, and the impact of head on pillow knocked her out cold.

A/N

Merry belated Christmas everybody. Except you. Yes you, you know who you are. :P

Having a junior auror in training and a retired auror handle arguably the most important interview seemed like a highly illogical idea when I first thought of it; I just wanted those characters in the story. Then I remembered it's the Ministry, so logic be damned, and went with it. This ain't a Logic!fic... too hard to write one of those properly whilst remaining true enough to canon to call it Harry Potter.