The Ministry visit was almost as uneventful as Lucius Malfoy had claimed it would be, except for the small matter that Hermione had become a major celebrity practically overnight. Reporters had been lying in wait at the Ministry for days, correctly assuming Hermione would eventually be escorted through the main atrium to establish her official positions. While Lucius and Narcissa had assumed there would be some people present to see the biggest scandal of the century in person, they had underestimated just how starved the media was for sensational news. And thanks to the machinations of Rita Skeeter, they had been kept in the dark by their normal contacts at the Ministry on the size of the crowd that was gathering to see Hermione in the flesh.
The moment the Malfoys and their reluctant charge exited the floo, they were bombarded by bright flashes and shouted questions from scores of ravenous reporters. Draco openly gaped at the seething mass of flickering cameras and jostling bodies. His parents immediately put their placid, confident demeanors in place, and Draco quickly emulated them, used to observing his parents for social cues. However, Hermione was not so quick to react.
Hermione was quite used to receiving attention from teachers due to her academic excellence, but never in her life had she been hounded for something to the point of attracting a swelling crowd of people begging for her attention. She felt like she had been hit with a powerful confundus charm; her emotions and reactions were in disarray. She had no idea how to handle the questions hurled her way.
"Miss Astarte, how do you feel about being the daughter of a convicted mass murderer?"
"Heir Black, do you feel it is your duty to repopulate the House of Black?"
"Do you intend to press charges against your attackers?"
"Have you visited your father's cell in Azkaban?"
"Does your father know you exist?"
Hermione desperately wished for her wand to hex the words from every reporter's mouth. Narcissa noticed the growing tension in the young witch and clasped a firm hand over her shoulder. "Do not let them get to you," she hissed, too low for anyone to hear. "We can handle the Daily Prophet later. Focus on getting through today."
The witch was right. She knew enough about magical news to know it was just the same as muggle tabloids. The Daily Prophet printed for sensation, not fact. She could give them a bulleted list on herself, and every word would be misconstrued simply to write a better, more entertaining story. Later, she could volunteer for a formal interview with a reputable reporter, because feeding the frenzy now would only increase the drama. She needed time to sit and prepare herself to release her story, and she would not let any of these fiends pressure her into answering volatile questions on the fly.
That was another thing for which she would no doubt require Narcissa's help. She had never given an interview in her life, but she would bet galleons the Malfoys were used to the spotlight.
She couldn't help the gratitude thawing her heart toward her female cousin as she calmly and gracefully strode through the reporters, shepherding Hermione. Lucius, acting as the commanding Malfoy patriarch, thumped his cane against the floor and demanded an immediate auror presence to protect his family. Hermione did not miss the fact that he didn't single her out, he included her as his family.
She witnessed the power of the Malfoy influence and prestige firsthand as aurors swiftly descended on the reporters, threatening to restore peace with their wands if they needed to. It was a testament to how well-respected aurors were as the crowd quickly stepped back to allow the Malfoys and Hermione to walk past without issue. The Aurors couldn't stop the continued flurry of photos, but the screamed inquiries hushed to a more ignorable level.
"Do you know the names of those aurors that helped?" Hermione asked Narcissa quietly as they passed a massive, imposing statue in the center of the atrium. She didn't have time to inspect the monument as they walked at a clipped pace to a set of golden lifts.
"I only knew three of them on sight, but we can find out the names of the other two quite quickly," the poised witch assured. Hermione nodded in satisfaction.
They entered the lift alongside a stoic auror escort. The man didn't say a word except to nod his acceptance of Hermione's whispered thanks. Despite his silence, Hermione felt comfortable in his presence, relieved at the guarded escort after the tumult of the atrium.
Narcissa smiled at the auror. "We didn't have time to turn in our wands before the debacle. Is it acceptable for you to hold them for us, so we don't accidentally break any rules?"
It was very clever of her to offer such an advantage, as it may have gone unnoticed that the Malfoys had retained their wands until much later, if at all. Narcissa was acquiescing to the power of the Ministry willingly. It showed she, and her family by extension, respected the Ministry's authority. From what Hermione understood of wizarding society, the political power of the Malfoys entitled them to get away with quite a few things, yet she was submitting to the law at her own disadvantage. While she understood the political power play, Hermione didn't think she would ever be able to pass up an advantage like that, especially when it came to her wand.
The auror nodded and accepted all of their wands, stowing them inside his over robe. Hermione's eyes were glued to the brief glimpse of her own wand as it transferred possession. She was still agitated to not have it in her own grasp, but she felt slightly better that now, no one had a wand, excluding the trained Auror.
Hermione missed whatever exchange brought the group to the correct floor, too focused on her wand. She followed Lucius diligently down a long hall lined on either side with glass cubicles. Each cubicle was populated by harried looking men and women dealing with mountains of paper work. Paper airplanes, flying under their own power, zipped by on their way to other office cubicles. The office spaces gradually grew larger, obviously belonging to more important people as they went on. Eventually, they came to the end of the hall and stopped before a wide set of ornate double doors. The glass to this office was fogged with a privacy spell, preventing a glimpse inside.
"Due to the high profile nature of establishing your official status, only the Head of the Department of Public Information Services himself is acceptable to handle your case," Lucius explained. "Any of these employees," he gestured at the long row of cubicles they had passed, "are undoubtedly able to help us, but I will have no one but the department head work with such an esteemed family as the Blacks, not to mention the famous le Fays."
Hermione scrunched her nose slightly at the heavy-handed flattery, but accepted it without remark. She could have sworn the Auror's mouth twitched in amusement, but his expression was so blank that she suspected she had imagined it.
Apparently satisfied that he had enraptured the young witch with his appreciation for her lineage, he strode toward the double doors of the head official's office. The doors opened of their own accord, either charmed to do it when someone approached automatically, or because the person within expected Lucius to arrive. Hermione imagined the doors slamming shut on the tail end of Lucius's expensive robes, and how amusing it would be if he fell to the ground, squawking in surprise. Alas, despite her ardent hope, he walked through without incident, and the rest of the group followed.
The auror took a post to the side of the doors once they closed, leaving Hermione to gaze around the richly appointed office in appreciation. Tomes on law, philosophy, and government lined handsome oak shelves from floor to ceiling. She knew herself well enough that she could admit any room would seem richly appointed to her if it contained a fair share of books, but interesting titles such as 'Foreign Politics on Magical Creatures' and 'A Treatise on The Application of Veritaserum' left her hands itching to get ahold of them.
Once her attention had wandered off the bookshelves, she noted the wingback chairs set before a hardwood desk. The back wall behind the desk was home to a portrait of a genial looking wizard with great tufts of grey hair sticking out around his head. The portrait was nearly identical to the man happily shaking hands with Lucius, his bulbous stomach barely contained by the straining buttons of his purple striped vest.
"Sir Malfoy! A pleasure, a pleasure I assure you! I always said you know, back when dear old Abraxas was around, that you would become a fine wizard!" Presented with nearly suffocating flattery himself, Lucius looked more annoyed at the festive handshaking and compliments than appreciative. While Hermione believed Lucius's flattery was more inclined to be for his own purposes, she had the feeling that the fawning man truly meant every word he said. He was just a round mass of positive sentiment.
The man turned his attention on Narcissa next, who graciously accepted his compliments on her beauty and charitable services. With Narcissa, Hermione couldn't tell if she was annoyed or not; the woman was a paragon of polite social interaction.
All too soon, it was Hermione's turn to be the center of his attention. While his bristly mustache accosted the back of her hand, she couldn't help but feel slightly smug that he was greeting her before the twit, Draco. She believed Draco Malfoy had never been passed over as the most interesting child in the room in his short life, until this moment. Oh, and perhaps until Harry Potter came around. After all, even she wasn't as famous as the Boy Who Lived.
"Miss Astarte Black! I cannot describe the joy meeting you brings to me!" His mustache and ear tufts were quivering with palpable excitement.
Was it even worth the bother of continuing to correct people on her name? "The joy is all mine, Mister…?"
"Oh, I am Marcellus Murdoch, Head of the Department of Public Information Services. It is not a grand title, but it pleases me very much to hold it, as my father before me it so happens! Of course, you may call me Mr. Murdoch, no need for too many formalities here," he introduced himself. "Truthfully, knowing the prestigious houses of both Black and le Fay will continue to exist through you is such a joyous thing. There is so much history within your blood, Miss Black, that you must learn at the earliest opportunity! It is a crime, perhaps even an Azkaban offense, that your heritage has been concealed from you! You, the last Black and perhaps even the very last le Fay! A crime I say!"
"That is exactly what brings us to your esteemed office, Marcellus," Lucius smoothly interjected. Hermione had begun to worry Mr. Murdoch would wax eloquent all day about her family, so she breathed a subtle sigh of relief at the redirection.
"Yes, yes, of course! Please, sit!" He silently transfigured his desk into a rectangular table, and conjured two more chairs to draw up to the head placement. Despite his effervescent and almost vapid flattery, there could be no denial that the man was a talented, efficient wizard. Hermione was impressed by his evident skill as he summoned papers and a yellowed scroll from some hidden crevice, alongside a dagger from a velvet lined box. She had to restrain the very muggle urge to duck when the blade came zooming toward them, but it stopped neatly on the table.
"Miss Black, before you sit, let us go ahead and get the redundant blood test out of the way, shall we?" The portly wizard gestured for her hand, grabbing it with thick fingers to gently, ceremoniously prick her fingertip. "Excellent! Now, smear that finger right here across this parchment… fantastic, yes, that's a healthy bit right there, just perfect!"
The scroll now streaked with the bright red of her blood was clearly ancient. On the unrolled portion of the scroll, names were scrawled next to brown smears. Mr. Murdoch noticed her attention and explained, "Those are all the blood tests performed by Blacks before you, either when they were declared official Heirs or established as the Head of House. The last one was the blood test of Mistress Walburga Black, instating her as the official Head of House after her husband's unfortunate death. Before that, right there, is Orion Black, her husband and your grandfather."
Considering the thickness of the scroll, Hermione saw people were not exaggerating when they claimed her family name stretched back for centuries, if not a millennium or more. And she was now the last remaining bastion against extinction, excluding her disgraced and imprisoned father. Of course, the Black family had bred with every pureblood family in Britain, so the blood would go on. But unless she had children, the name would die with her, an ancient chain broken.
Mr. Murdoch completed the blood test ceremony, casting the spell that would magically compare her blood to the rest of the scroll. She held a breath when her blood began to shimmer, a niggling doubt taunting her that this entire fuss was some big, cosmic joke. What if she really wasn't a Black, and the books were wrong? Her looks were just a fluke? All of her planning, adjusting, choked politeness for nothing? She would have to return to Hogwarts, the humiliated almost-heir of the Blacks, just an uppity mudblood trying to ascend the social ladder.
She was the only that seemed to harbor a secret fear, for no one except herself closed her eyes in relief when the shimmer settled on solid gold before fading into a dried brown.
"Welcome to the family, officially," Lucius said, awkwardly patting her shoulder.
Narcissa embraced her, whispering, "It is good to know there is a smart, capable witch to carry on my family." Despite her surety that her cousin intended to use her for political gain, Hermione knew the words were sincere. Narcissa might be prejudiced and manipulative, but she was definitely a witch who valued her roots.
Draco, who Hermione had forgotten about, hesitantly stepped forward, looking to his parents for guidance. He finally made eye contact, his sharp face pinched with regret. Hermione believed he truly would not have raised a hand against her had he known they were possibly related. From her interactions with other Slytherin purebloods, she knew how highly they valued family. But she didn't let that belief blunt her anger with him. He should have avoided such drastic violence because she was his housemate, because the most important rule of Slytherin was to stick together. But he had chosen his prejudice over centuries of tradition. If the bond of being housemates had not protected her, then she would not let shared blood protect him.
However, she revised her revenge to become a more private matter. Slytherin upheld family loyalty, so publicly humiliating Draco would be counterproductive to her plans within her house. She would have to teach him a lesson in private. Marcus Flint she would destroy quite publicly; no blood relation protected him from her vengeance.
"It's good not to be alone," he said quietly. Like his mother, Hermione sensed the honesty of his words. It was something she would have to think about later.
Mr. Murdoch clapped Hermione heartily on the shoulder, nearly breaking decorum, judging by the way Narcissa's soft smile tightened. "Not a surprise at all! You're the spitting image of your cousin, Mrs. Lestrange! Except for those glorious eyes of yours, of course, but I've heard through department gossip that those are a famous le Fay trait. Of course, we can do that blood test after these papers are all in order."
Excitement over for the moment, the group all sat at the transfigured table. Hermione and Lucius sat on either side of the official, Draco and his mother taking the other two seats next to them.
The next hour was a blur as the Black witch signed and noted countless Ministry documents transferring her title and assets to her. Much to the combined pride and impatient frustration of the Malfoys, Hermione insisted on thoroughly reading every single paper. Mr. Murdoch was thrilled to answer each of her detailed questions at length whenever she read a confusing line of legal jargon.
"Mr. Murdoch, what if some properties and assets were claimed by other families or liquidated by the Ministry? I assume both happened when my, uh, father was imprisoned." Eventually, she would get used to referring to Sirius Black as her father, for the sake of situations where it wasn't prudent to refer to Daniel Granger as her father.
The department head stuttered in obvious surprise. "Well, Miss Black-"
"Those will be returned to me, yes? After all, even though the Ministry didn't know there was another heir at the time of my father's imprisonment, the Decree of 1648, also known as the Inheritance Law, states that the Ministry and/or any other houses cannot claim assets of any kind should the last known blood born descendant of a house be deemed unfit due to death or lifelong imprisonment in Azkaban, until twenty years have passed without the official instatement of a new Head of House."
Mr. Murdoch's mustache quivered in distress. "Why, Miss Black-"
"Of course, twenty years certainly have not passed. I believe it has been only around, say, a little under twelve since my father entered Azkaban? Since I have now been recognized by the foremost Ministry official on public records as the official Head of House Black, I am well within my rights to have all of my assets rightfully returned to me."
While Mr. Murdoch gaped silently, Hermione thanked whatever gods watched over her that she had taken notes on that random tidbit from Professor Binns's droning lectures.
Lucius grinned like a shark and tapped his cane. "Well, Marcellus? Answer Miss Black's question."
Mr. Murdoch's gusty exhalation gave him a moment to gather his thoughts. "You are correct, of course. I will have to speak to the Minister himself, as I believe the Ministry liquidated the contents of your father's personal vault immediately after his arrest. I know Gringotts wouldn't allow the seizure of the Black's family vault, so rest assured, that will not be replaced."
"Lucky for the Ministry that the goblins refused," she replied lightly, "I'm sure the family vault would have been very difficult to replace. I have heard it is extremely valuable."
The official toyed absently with a gold button on his vest, belying his anxiety. Hermione half worried he would twist the button off and destroy the structural integrity of the vest, releasing the straining wall of flesh from its pinstriped prison.
"Do not worry, Marcellus," Lucius silkily joined, "I will accompany you to the Minister's office myself, to explain the unsettling overextension of Ministry powers. Our society has laws like the decree in place for reasons such as this, does it not?"
Turning pale beneath grey whiskers, Mr. Murdoch was swift to agree. "Of course, of course! There must have been an error, made by a dimwitted secretary in another department, I'm sure," he said, quick to deflect blame.
"Of course," Lucius agreed. The predatory grin had not left his face. Hermione realized that this was Lucius in his element: subtly threatening and maneuvering Ministry officials to obtain his goals. It was hard for her to imagine that maybe he had once been like his son, snobbish and inelegant. There was a world of difference between a school bully and a political predator.
"Would you mind summoning the documents detailing the exact assets claimed by other houses or the Ministry, including an itemized list of the contents of Sirius's vault?" Narcissa politely inquired, joining her husband in the slaughter.
The rotund wizard hastened to scrawl the request and send it off with a wave, the paper airplane slipping through the door's crack before rocketing off on its mission.
"While we wait on those papers, which will be enlightening, I am sure, let's finish this process," Lucius suggested.
"Of course, of course," Mr. Murdoch chortled awkwardly, trying to regain his ease. "Just a few more things to sign, and everything will be in order!"
The other documents described the assets being returned to her from entities that had already given them up, such as business holdings. Some assets had been tied up in bureaucratic red tape for as long as Sirius had been in Azkaban. So far, she had been released three properties: a townhome in London located at Grimmauld Place; a chateau in France, which had been kept by a Black-affiliated share in accordance with the Decree of 1648; and a villa in Greece, which had been kept by a different share for the same reasons. Also released to her was the Black family vault, which she happened to know firsthand was not maintained by any Ministry actions, despite what the document claimed, and was actually managed by the goblins. She imagined it would absolutely gall the goblins to know the Ministry had claimed their own actions were releasing the vault to her.
"Since you aren't of age, you can't claim your Wizengamot seat just yet, so we can skip this paper," the official advised, removing the pertinent document from the stack. "And of course, your company shareholders and business associates, who have been very excited to learn of your existence, will meet with you themselves to go over anything they need you to sign."
"Those meetings will occur later this week in privacy at the Manor," Lucius informed.
"Excellent, wonderful," Mr. Murdoch gushed. "Then I believe that is all!" He gathered the papers and straightened them with a dramatic flourish. "Since your request has yet to be answered, we can begin the official recognition of your le Fay House." With a wand wave, he summoned even more documents, along with another scroll.
The scroll for the le Fay blood test was even more ancient looking than the Black scroll. The nicked edges of the parchment were outlined in gold leaf. While she had been nervous about the first blood test, she only felt collected confidence this time around. After all, the beast prowling inside her ribcage recognized the wild power of Morgan le Fay's blood rushing in and out of her beating heart.
"There has not been a recognized Head of House for the le Fay family in centuries I believe, so the Decree of 1648 no longer applies," Mr. Murdoch said while he pricked her finger once more. "Any assets from a house believed extinct for so long have been absorbed into other houses, and I am afraid are unrecoverable. Should the blood test confirm you are a direct descendent, only protected holdings will be released to you, should any exist."
"I understand," she answered, smearing her finger on the potion treated scroll. She could feel everyone in the room leaning in curiously as Mr. Murdoch cast the final spell of the ceremony. She suddenly realized that no one present truly believed the portrait's claims. What was the likelihood that the nearly extinct Most Ancient and Noble House of Black would be resurrected by a witch who was also the last heir of the mythically infamous witch Morgan le Fay? The convergence of the Black and le Fay lines was like the plot of same fantasy novelist: perhaps an interesting theory, but impossible to believe as fact. Likely, everyone had held their tongues on their own thoughts to humor her, on the small chance the portrait had been correct.
The red smear began to glimmer, and then turned to solid gold.
Identity confirmed, Mr. Murdoch returned the scroll and dagger to their proper places. The room was heavy with surprise and disbelief, even though the proof had just been magically evidenced for all to see. Narcissa gathered herself first.
"Well," said, the word falling from her lips like a stone, "you are certainly a special witch, Astarte."
Hermione didn't bother to correct her cousin, even though the woman knew better than to call her that. She was almost growing used to adults blatantly ignoring her chosen name in favor of the traditionalist Black name.
"Special and rare indeed," her husband added, inspecting Hermione even more closely than he had that morning. His eyes lingered on her own, not to invite serious eye contact, but in a detached way that let Hermione know he was inspecting the color of her irises. He was probably changing his assumption that the startling shade of gold was a muggle fluke to what was clearly the truth: her eyes were her direct physical inheritance of the le Fay line.
"Only a few papers to sign this time, since there isn't much to transfer," Mr. Murdoch said, offering her the quill. "Everything's the same as the Black papers, including that you can't yet assume your Wizengamot seat. Other than that, the only difference is this document," he slid a paper to her, "which releases into your possession the le Fay vault, the only remaining asset of your house."
The documents were quickly in order and placed atop the Black papers. Mr. Murdoch put the stack in a folder, which magically vanished when he tapped it with his wand. "The folders are charmed to immediately appear in the filing room to be put away, unless of course you ever need to access those files, in which case you can request an official document review from the Ministry," he informed. "Now that that's all taken care of, you can go and-"
The expedient entrance of an airplane halted his words. Huffing at the interruption, he grabbed the plane from the air and unfolded it to read the contents. His face immediately lost its color once more.
"My request, I assume?" Narcissa asked sweetly.
With a defeated sigh, Mr. Murdoch nodded. Hermione had zero doubts he had been keen to escape the predatory presence of the Malfoys, and perhaps even her, as her own observations had played a part in his obvious interest in escape. She didn't want to flatter her arrogance, but she didn't doubt her own words would have the man twiddling his vest's button for hours to come.
The official reluctantly gave the documents over for Hermione and the Malfoys to read. She was very curious to learn which families had tried to claim the Black wealth for themselves, in however small a portion. She also wondered at just how much the Ministry had obtained from her father's vault. A part of her hoped that the galleons they had stolen had at least been put to good use, rather than lining some politician's pockets.
The Notts had claimed the art pieces and historical artefacts the Black family had loaned to any museums, citing a distant relation with Arcturus Black II through a third cousin. The Bulstrodes had claimed a French distillery for elven wine, citing relation by marriage through fourth cousins, 130 years ago, despite the union producing no children. The Greengrasses had assumed the Black shares of St. Mungo's Hospital, and also now helmed the Black seat on several charitable causes, citing relation through an illegitimate child born from an extramarital affair of Orion Black III and Guinevere Greengrass that occurred 413 years ago. The MacMillans, who Hermione remembered had penned her an extremely snide letter welcoming her to the wizarding world, had claimed a lucrative mining operation for opaline salt, an expensive ingredient key to creating pensieves and storing memories, by citing emotional distress and irreparable harm caused by the Black family reneging on a marriage contract that had been proposed 347 years ago. The contract had been voided when the intended MacMillan man had eloped with another wizard. Finally, the value of Sirius Black's personal vault, which had been happily confiscated by the Ministry and doled out to several department heads and one undersecretary, fully amounted to 700,000 galleons worth, enough to keep a wizarding family comfortably wealthy for a century.
"This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever read in my life," Hermione burst out, unable to contain herself at the preposterous lengths these families had gone to in an effort to leech off her family's wealth. "The degree of relation between me and the first three families is so tenuous as to be negligible! And the MacMillan claim doesn't even have a drop of blood to back it, just hurt feelings over something that happened 347 years ago! Not to mention that the Ministry divided my father's personal vault amongst themselves!"
Lucius managed to contain himself from such an emotional outburst since he had been perfectly aware of the families' financial scheming, but also questioned the legality of the asset seizures to support Hermione. "None of these claims are legitimate enough to be granted by the Ministry. Yet, the Ministry chose to go forward, outright ignoring the Inheritance Decree. Tell me," Lucius leaned forward, eyes glittering with malice, "who did all of these houses bribe to have these claims honored?"
From what Hermione had heard of school gossip, she knew Lucius was acting the hypocrite, since Ministry officials all over the departments were deep in his pocket. However, she couldn't complain when he threatened to expose corruption for her sake. She noted that he didn't mention Sirius Black's vault being ransacked and wondered what that meant. For now, she would take what help she could get in reclaiming her lost assets from pureblood families. Those families would respect Lucius Malfoy's requests long before they ever acknowledged her own.
"Now, now Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation for this, this clear violation of the law, absolutely repugnant disregard for common decency, really!" Mr. Murdoch was quick to defend, with much stuttering.
"Some oversight of the Ministry allowed these clearly illegal forfeitures of Miss Black's family property," the Malfoy patriarch stated. "I want to know the names of everyone involved in passing these documents without flagging them for illegitimate asset claim. I expect the list by owl no later than midmorning, Marcellus."
"Of course! Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I'll devote the rest of my day to the task!"
"You have kept my wife and the children long enough, Marcellus. You and I will go see the Minister right now to discuss illegally seized and liquidated assets." Lucius turned to his wife, dismissing the nerve-wracked wizard. "I am afraid I will not make our lunch plans. It seems something has come up that requires my attention."
"No worry," Narcissa said charmingly, allowing him to kiss her knuckles in goodbye. "We will manage well enough on our own to make a Gringotts withdrawal and do some shopping."
The auror, who had remained silent during the hours long exchange, followed Narcissa, Draco, and Hermione back to the lifts, leaving Marcellus Murdoch to endure the wrath of Lucius alone. Hermione pitied the man. He was one of the only adults she had met so far that she felt wanted only to genuinely help her, not use her for political gain.
"That was certainly eventful," the blonde witch sighed. "The poor Minister is going to catch an earful for this, I'm afraid. Lucius has never dealt well when the transgression is against family."
Hermione rolled her eyes when she was claimed as family, uncaring if anyone saw. "If you're my closest relative, why didn't you claim anything?" she asked, voicing what she had been wondering since she read that ridiculous document. While it listed the sins of pureblood families she recognized, the famously conniving Malfoys had been conspicuously absent.
"It didn't matter. Through me, Draco would have inherited everything once twenty years passed. There was no need to engage in the petty competition when in eight years, everything could be reclaimed by us anyway," she answered frankly.
Hermione preferred the honesty over what she had expected: a flowery exposition on not descending to immoral manipulations for material wealth. She supposed she was becoming rather cynical in how she expected the Malfoys to act, but she couldn't help herself. Their son had planned to grievously hurt her and nearly killed her in the process. She was entitled to distrust them, and the society they helmed.
Suddenly remembering her earlier inquiry, Hermione turned to the auror. "What are the names of all the aurors who helped against the crowd?"
When posed with a direct question that couldn't be answered by a nod or head shake, the stoic auror spoke. "Aurors Kingsley, Mayfields, Smith, MacDonnell, and Tonks."
"Is it possible for me to thank them in person, before we leave?"
He blinked in surprise. "Yes, I can take you to them."
"Is that a good idea?" Narcissa asked hurriedly. "Surely, the aurors are too busy to speak to us."
He gave her a look Hermione could not decipher. She got the sudden feeling that there was something she did not know. "They will make time," the auror replied. "It is little trouble."
Narcissa pursed her lips in unhappiness. Whatever it was that got under her skin must be a big deal to cause her future wrinkles, Hermione thought to herself.
Quickly, the auror stopped the lift on the floor housing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was much less hectic that the other department, populated only by stern looking men and women, walking at clipped paces to wherever they were ordered. The auror escort led the group to a set of five aurors that were clustered around a magical recording. Once she got closer, Hermione realized the recording was of earlier, when the crowds had gotten so raucous that aurors had stepped in.
"—should have moved out of this adjoining Flu room also, to cover the bulging side of these reporters here," a redheaded man said, gesturing to a group of rowdy reporters with the tip of his wand. "Containment would have been more efficient if an actual scuffle had started."
Hermione was impressed. The aurors were going over the recording to see what they could have done better to learn improvements for crowd control. As soon as she stepped closer to inspect the recording herself, the five aurors whipped around.
She hardly had time to react to their quick movements before her escort ordered them to stand down. "She has something to say," he explained, gesturing for her to talk.
Slightly nervous at the rapt attention each auror was giving her, she tugged at a wild curl. "I wanted to thank each of you personally for helping me and, uh, the Malfoys. Earlier, that is."
At her soft thanks, each auror relaxed. "It's our duty, ma'am," a tall, dark skinned auror told her. His deep voice resonated through her bones, authoritative yet calming.
The other three men nodded in agreement, but the woman caught her eye. Her bright pink hair shifted wildly to purple and back again, leaving Hermione gaping in shock.
Of course, Hermione had read about metamorphmagus abilities, but seeing it was quite something! She wanted to ask endless questions, but doubted the woman had the time or inclination to act as study subject.
"I'm Tonks," the woman introduced proudly. Her auror badge gleamed brightly, as if Tonks was brand new to the ranks. She winked at Hermione, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially, "But anyone in the family can call me Dora."
Hermione blinked in confusion, distantly registered Narcissa's hand clasping her shoulder sharply. "We must go now," her blonde cousin demanded.
"Wait," Hermione said, looking at Tonks, seeking to look behind the pink hair.
"This is my natural face," Tonks announced, facial features crunching and hair dulling to a mousy brown. Her nose was sharp, freckles spattered over her cheekbones. It was the eyes that caught and held Hermione's attention—they were large and almond shaped, crowned by arched brows.
"Are we related?" Hermione questioned. She saw those eyes and brows, save for the color, in the mirror each day.
"You haven't told her about my mom, have you?" Tonks demanded of Narcissa, suddenly angry. Her hair flickered wildly between red and black. "She deserves to know all of her family, not just you lot!"
"I was not disowned, so I was the logical choice," Narcissa answered stiffly. "If you are so concerned for her, why didn't you or Andromeda come to Hogwarts when the news broke? I was there within hours to meet my cousin and welcome her into the family."
Hermione's mind was whirling at the implications. "Are we related?" she asked again, this time impatiently.
"I'm your cousin too," Tonks answered, glaring at Narcissa. "My mum is Andromeda Tonks nee Black, this woman's sister."
Hermione recalled Dumbledore's casual comments in his office. She had brushed aside his question because she had been impatient, and now she realized that action had been to her detriment.
"Unfortunately," Narcissa broke in, unwilling to let Tonks control the narrative, "my sister was blasted off the Black family tree, making her ineligible to be your legal guardian. If she had wished to contest my guardianship, she could have come to Hogwarts herself. I was there the moment I received word you had awoken. I had even wished to introduce to your true heritage myself, but the headmaster beat me to it."
Tonks's twisted her face and opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but was silenced with a wand wave from the auror escort. "This is certainly a matter for later conversation," he said, his gaze fixed on the wayward auror. Tonks blushed, but set her jaw in indignation at being silenced. It was apparent to Hermione that the young auror was a spitfire, but Tonks clearly valued her career enough to let the subject drop. However, Hermione sensed it wasn't the last she would hear from the technicolor witch.
"I agree wholeheartedly, Auror Banks," Narcissa nodded. "Nymphadora," she said the name with a palpable amount of distaste, "if your mother has any objections, she can contact the appropriate Ministry officials. Now, I must insist on going. We have things to do before the day is done."
With a quick smile thrown Tonks's way, Hermione hastened to follow the Malfoys back to the lift, leaving the circle of bemused aurors behind. She had no choice at the moment but to follow Narcissa, but she would certainly look into everything that had been said. Was it true that Auror Nymphadora Tonks was her cousin? Why had Andromeda Tonks been disowned? Why was Narcissa trying to conceal the rest of the Black family, disowned or not? Her curiosity prickled her, but the time for research and brainstorming was later. She had a list burning a hole in her pocket, demanding completion. As soon as things settled, she would make a new list of goals, and society would shiver when she achieved them.