Author's Notes: You know, it always starts out this way. I'll write a story fanatically for a few days with a surplus of updates, and then my dedication slowly starts to decrease until I discard the story for something else. Don't let this happen. YOU can reduce Fan Fiction Dedication Decrease Disorder (FFDDD… interesting) today by simply reviewing at the end of every chapter! It's honestly that simple! Saving lives one review at a time…
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far. It means so much to me. I've received a couple unusual reviews that I feel I need to respond to, so here goes.
blacktulip: Thanks for reviewing, but I'm afraid I'm a bit in the dark here. What did you mean by "you seem a bit cocky" and "hope it's as good as you say it'll be"? I'm not sure where I expressed cockiness. Sorry if I did.
Badbugz: I'm not sure if that post was exactly constructive criticism, but thank you anyway. You shouldn't jump to conclusions and ask so many questions just after two chapters. Perhaps I should have stated at the beginning of the story that more history would be revealed along the way, because that's the way this story works for the first few chapters. I hate stories that throw a ton of information at you right away, and I like working little flashbacks and snippets in slowly at different times, all right? Really, how can you say "it seems kind of dull" when it's just started? Don't a lot of stories get off to slow starts? You can't expect something to come along and just WOW you out of this earth. Thanks for saying that my story's pretty original… I think. You said most stories don't have the Golden Trio breaking up, but I guess my story isn't like the other ones out there. Why wouldn't I try to write something unique? You also say it's "too short." What, the prologue or the first chapter too? Yes, the prologue was short, I said it wasn't going to be long, but I hardly think the first chapter was very short. I guess it's just a matter of opinion on how short or long something is. "A prologue and one chapter is not enough to get me interested," is what you wrote. Well, a prologue and one chapter is usually just the start of a story, and most people usually begin to read a story from the start. Don't you want to wait in anticipation for an author to update a story, and don't you want to follow it along and try to guess at what comes next? That's the fun in the reading/reviewing process. I don't understand why someone would post their entire story at one time. Most readers don't have enough time to sit down and read a whole story all at once, you know? I hope you keep reviewing my work; I'd like to know what you think. I was just a little frazzled by your review.
I also apologize to anyone who wondered if this story was a one-short or not after reading the prologue. Obviously, it's not. I suppose I should have made that clearer at the beginning, but if you were paying attention, you would have realized nothing in the summary was included in the prologue. Hence, the words "PROLOGUE – LOVE IS BLINDING" at the top of the page. :p
And the "WIA" isn't very clever, I know. Only one letter changed. If anyone can come up with something better, you'll get a chapter dedication and a million dollars. (Kidding about that last one.)
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CHAPTER TWO – "YOU'RE BEING REASSIGNED"
Regular, customary confusion and hubbub was what Hermione encountered upon entering the Ministry of Magic main hall. Even in all its commotion, it still looked absolutely splendid. Of course, Hermione had seen this hall nearly every day for the past six years, but it never ceased to amaze her.
For a moment, Hermione stopped to watch wizards randomly appear out of the innumerable fireplaces lining the side walls. She tried to suppress a giggle when an extremely short wizard stumbled out of a fireplace and did an odd flip to catch his balance, only to land at a posh witch's feet. Another woman some fifteen feet away was walking backwards while trying to balance several cups of coffee and a massive stack of papers in her arms at the same time. She would undoubtedly soon collide with one of the other unaware wizards scurrying around (though Hermione was sure no one else was walking backwards quite like this woman was).
The fountain in the center of the room was still flowing grandly, as it always did. Hermione noticed several young wizards and witches leaning against the stone structure, all with silly grins plastered on their faces. Hermione recognized them immediately; they were fresh recruits for a new project opening in the Spell Damage department, and they obviously had no idea what they were doing (just last week Hermione had caught them in the cafeteria levitating the chairs and tables while their occupants were still seated in them).
Hermione knew the adolescents were supposed to be in training instead of socializing and was about to tell them off, but a nearby squeal caused her to stiffen in apprehension. She looked over her shoulder to see a young witch known as Josie Hacklebush, the frenzied and unorganized assistant Headmistress at Hogwarts, practically sprinting down the hall towards Hermione.
"Hermione!" she called excitedly. "Hermione, it's me, Josie! Hermione!"
Hermione winced. Josie had only been the assistant at Hogwarts for a short time and still wasn't sure how to handle it. She was given the job immediately after Dumbledore's unexpected death two years ago as there was no one else available for the post at the time. Professor Minerva McGonagall automatically became the head, naturally, but Hermione had to admit, Hogwarts was never the same after Dumbledore's departure.
And, from the looks of things, as long as Josie worked there, things would never be the same again.
"Hello, Josie," Hermione said in false exuberance as Josie skidded to a halt before her. The girl was around the age of twenty, only a few years younger than Hermione, and was possibly the most unstructured person Hermione knew. She was appropriately kind, of course – if not a little eccentric at times – but she absolutely worshipped Hermione almost to a point of obsession. "You're a living goddess," Josie told Hermione upon their first meeting. It was then that Hermione learned to evade spending excess time with Josie Hacklebush.
Josie brushed aside the frizzy blonde hair that was falling from her messy bun out of her eyes and pushed her glasses up the slope of her nose. "Did you hear about that fire this morning, Hermione? I saw it on the Muggle news and it's in the paper. Do you get the paper, Hermione? Did you read it this morning? The Daily Prophet did a really big article on it –"
God, how much coffee did she have this morning? Hermione thought impatiently. She had time to walk to work, daydream, and marvel at the magnificence of the Ministry hall, but she really didn't have time to stand around and listen to Josie jabber.
"Really, Josie? I –"
"Mr. Lawson had me come into his office this morning because he said that Minerva is going to be out for the next week for meetings or something like that, I'm not very sure, but he wants me to run Hogwarts while she's gone, and I couldn't believe it at all, because I've never run something before by myself and I don't really know what to do but Bella said she would give me some pointers in case the students get out of hand, which I hope they don't, because I don't really want to give Minerva a bad report when she gets back or she'll think I didn't do a good job running the school and I'll never get to fill in for her again or get a pay raise or –"
"That's quite a run-on sentence," Hermione corrected her without thinking. Josie blinked several times in question, most likely surprised at being interrupted in the midst of an important conversation. "Never mind. Listen, did Mr. Lawson say anything about me this morning?"
"You?" Josie asked, her eyes growing wide in idolism. "You, Hermione? Why would Mr. Lawson ever say anything about you? You're his favorite employee. He would never say anything about you. He was talking about that odd fire that sprang up this morning, though. Where was it? A tire barn? A grocery? And he mentioned something about Death Eaters too, I think."
"I was just wondering, since this morning he sent me a Ho –"
Hermione was cut off when an earsplitting scream followed by several loud thuds silenced the entire room. Looking behind her, Hermione found that the woman who had been walking backwards finally collided with someone and they were both lying tangled on the shiny wooden floor in a large sea of pieces and rolls of parchment.
"ROGERS!" shouted a boiling Mr. Lawson, the man that had collided with the woman (who was also Hermione's boss and the same Mr. Lawson Josie had been rambling on about just moments before). "I've spilled my coffee on your papers," he noted, bending down to look at one, "… which happen to be the recordings from this morning's Macadam trial!"
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Lawson," the backwards woman mumbled continuously while unsuccessfully trying to wipe the permanent coffee stains off the important parchment. "I'll just use a quick spell to get this off… I'm so very sorry, I'll be more careful next time…"
"There won't be a next time if the coffee doesn't come out of those recordings," Lawson spat, pushing himself to his feet. He examined the brown coffee dots on his white silk tie for several moments and shouted after the woman as she scurried away, "And you owe me another tie."
Duke Lawson was a tall and quite attractive man of around forty years. He didn't much look like a wizard; his expensive color-coded business suits would give a complete stranger the impression that he worked for a high-paying company somewhere in the heart of London. Hermione, of course, knew better than to think that of Duke Lawson.
He was the global head of the Wizard Intelligence Agency (or the WIA, as it was most commonly called), which was Hermione's department of specialization at the Ministry. Working alongside the Aurors, slinking around suspicious scenes, gathering clues, and catching the evil-doers was what this man lived for. No wonder he isn't married, Hermione thought countless times.
As soon as Lawson straightened his jacket and readjusted his splotched tie, he caught sight of Hermione standing next to Josie (who was currently bouncing from foot to foot and waving at various people around the room.) Hermione gulped and studied the suit he was wearing. He's dressed in gray today, Hermione thought nervously. Okay, gray, that means he's… anxious?
She shook her head, realizing she honestly spent too much time studying her boss's wardrobe.
"GRANGER!" Lawson shouted, turning several heads. "Granger, it's about time you showed up. And you're late again."
"How can I be late when we're not in your office?" Hermione countered.
"Don't get smart with me, Granger; we've got matters to attend to straight away. Follow me," he added, flattening his tie once more before marching away down the hall.
"Hi, Mr. Lawson!" Josie called merrily to his retreating back. She received no answer.
Hermione lamentably followed her still infuriated boss up several floors in the stuffy elevator, down two narrow hallways, up three staircases, down five more, and round a corner before they arrived at the entrance to the WIA headquarters. Lawson pushed open the sparkling glass doors that showed a reflection of an aggravated boss and a timid employee.
Inside was an entirely separate world from the rest of the building. Much like in the Auror headquarters, the room was split up into cubicles for each agent. Tall glass windows occupying two whole walls illuminated the busy room in brilliant magical sunlight (the Ministry was located below ground, and when it was remodeled four years ago, it was decided that fake windows would be installed to bring brightness into the gloomy workrooms). Owls of all breeds were constantly arriving and departing with official-looking envelopes in their beaks. Papers that really had no meaning to the agents were stacked against desks around the room while the agents themselves were busy scribbling in their notepads, hanging over the cubicles having heated conversations with their neighbors, or examining oddly drawn maps of different continents. Sometimes a day off from such commotion wasn't such a bad thing. Hermione, however, wouldn't want to work anywhere else for her life.
"Take them off," a blonde woman Hermione knew as Marcia was commanding a man across the aisle from her cubicle. "You look absolutely ridiculous, Dan."
"Why?" Dan asked. "Everyone's wearing them. Bertie over in cubicle twenty-nine charmed his so the lenses change colors every two minutes."
"Take them off!" Marcia repeated exasperatedly. "Dan, no one wears sunglasses inside."
"Muggle spies do," Dan protested, pointing to the dark glasses covering his eyes. "Haven't you ever watched those Muggle movies with the agents that wear black sunglasses while on duty?"
"No," Marcia said bluntly. "They look stupid. And no, I won't put a pair on, either."
Dan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Come on, Marcia. We're getting everyone to do it. Chris and Betsy put a pair in everyone's mailboxes yesterday."
The sunglasses dispute continued on while Hermione trailed behind Lawson to the other side of the room where the private offices were located. Along the way, she couldn't help but notice several other employees sporting the dark sunglasses. For a moment, she wondered why she hadn't received a pair in her mailbox.
"I didn't order two thousand leeches, Mildred, I ordered two hundred!" a woman was shouting into a nearby fireplace. The head of the other woman, Mildred, was moving her mouth quite rapidly to respond to the frantic woman's complaints.
"Don't know why you need leeches anyway, Karen. They suck the blood right out of you, they do," Mildred replied simply.
"I know what they do! Just cancel the order immediately or I'll have them suck the blood out of you!"
The joys of the office life, Hermione thought contentedly.
Bringing her eyes back forward, she noticed they had arrived at Lawson's office. Two doors down was Hermione's own private office. For a moment she felt rather proud at having her own office to herself and away from the leech lover and the sunglasses couple, but her moment of pride quickly disappeared as Lawson ushered her into his office.
"Take a seat, Miss Granger."
When Hermione had settled into one of Lawson's squishy green armchairs and Duke himself was positioned behind his notable chestnut desk, their eyes met and Hermione sensed a feeling of seriousness in what he was about to say.
"This morning at approximately five o'clock, a fire broke out at a shoe warehouse near Surrey. Did you or did you not know about this?"
Hermione gulped, remembering the Howler again. "I – I was sleeping at the time, but I did see it on the Muggle news."
"You were sleeping," Lawson stated incredulously. "I see. A good agent would have been sleeping at five o'clock, but a great agent would have been ready if an occasion that they were needed for came up."
Hermione nodded slowly, knowing she was a great agent, but great agents had to get their rest, too. She was quite unsure where the conversation was going, really.
"True, there wasn't much you could have accomplished had you been there. Any simpleton could've figured out the fire was started by Death Eaters."
"What?" Hermione asked, taken aback by Lawson's last two words. She then remembered Josie mentioning Death Eaters in their short encounter earlier, but Hermione never really took anything Josie said to heart.
Lawson nodded, picking up the coffee cup on his desk and bringing it to his mouth while simultaneously glancing down at his spotted white tie.
"But - but there haven't been any Death Eater sightings around here since…" Hermione trailed off, knowing what she wanted to say but unable to say it. Since my parents were killed were the words she couldn't speak. Since I graduated from Hogwarts. Since Voldemort was defeated. Since I stopped talking to my two best friends and went off alone in the world.
"I know," Lawson said. "We all know. That's why this is so serious. You can't be slacking off now, Hermione. We think – we're not sure, but it could be possible that they're returning."
"Oh, my God," Hermione uttered. "You can't be serious. Why? They disappeared for six years and now because a shoe store caught on fire, you think they're coming back?"
"You were the one we gave that case to," Lawson reminded her. "We gave you the task of finding out why they fled and why we couldn't find them. But you couldn't solve it." Hermione flinched at the word couldn't, and Lawson added slightly more delicately, "No one could."
Hermione began rocking back and forth, trying to pound all this new information into her brain. "So… so you called me in here today to tell me this? Because, honestly, after that Howler, I thought I was going to get f –"
"We're not done," Lawson said crisply, cutting off Hermione's weak attempt at a laugh. "I called you in here today because I'm reassigning you."
"WHAT?" Hermione exclaimed, rising to her feet and nearly knocking her chair over. A large portion of the outside room swiveled around to peer in through the glass windows of the office.
"I said I'm reassigning you, Granger."
Damn it, Hermione cursed to herself. Why did I ever say anything? This is his way of saying I'm getting fired. I knew it.
"But – I didn't – I mean –"
"I'm reassigning you to work at Hogwarts for the remainder of the school year," Lawson said loudly in an effort to override Hermione's incoherent stutters. "You're not loosing your job. You're working undercover. Odd occurrences have been reported at the school lately, concerning some of the students and teachers, and I want you there on the scene to conduct important investigation."
"But – Hogwarts?" asked a puzzled Hermione. "What the hell is going on up there?"
"That's your job to find out, now, isn't it?" Lawson said curtly. He gathered a group of parchment rolls in his arms and walked to the front of his office. Hermione, who still hadn't sat back down, followed him as he opened the door and exited the private room. The WIA headquarters was still as busy as an anthill. Vociferous noise met Hermione's ears once again as more sunglasses-clad agents approached her all at once, asking what happened in Lawson's office.
"Wait!" Hermione called after her boss, who was making his way back to the other side of the room. She pushed through the small crowd that was forming around her and stubbornly went after Lawson. "I'm going back to Hogwarts? What, am I just going to supervise the classes?"
A mental image of Hermione tailing Josie all day long with a clipboard sent chills up her spine.
"No," Lawson said. Hermione waited for a more elaborate answer, but when she didn't receive one, she continued to persist.
"Then what will I be doing? How am I going to investigate? Will I have to hold conferences with the students? And where will I be staying? I won't have to travel back and forth from my home to the school every day, will I?"
"You're starting to sound like Hacklebush," Lawson snapped. "Everything has already been arranged and you're due to arrive at Hogwarts next Monday promptly at noon. Any clues or information you obtain during your stay will be mailed to me and only me when appropriate."
The two were nearing the door and Hermione was beginning to grow impatient. Her most important question still hadn't been answered. "Mr. Lawson, you haven't told me what exactly I'll be doing at Hogwarts."
Lawson reached for the knob and opened the door, but instead of leaving, he turned around to face Hermione with a calm expression on his face.
"Doing? You'll be teaching, of course. Transfiguration to be exact. They never did find a good teacher after McGonagall was appointed Headmistress. You'll receive an owl tomorrow with more information. Good day, Miss Granger."
And with that, Duke Lawson disappeared behind the door, leaving Hermione completely dazed and confused in a room filled with dozens of people wearing absurd, dark sunglasses.