Author's Notes: All right, I'm becoming more organized (for instance, I have the next chapter written out already!) because after looking over some of my previous chapters and the things I've screwed, I realized I am quite a sloppy author at times, if you can even call me that. So I've taken to writing down ideas for the chapters in a notebook, and I had about three more mini-stories to get through in chapter twenty, which, as you will soon find out, did not happen in the very least. The point of this paragraph is to say that I fear as if I'm dragging things out too much (I mean, for God's sake, it's been Christmas for about the past year now) and I'll end up with far too many chapters. Perhaps I'll end up splitting this fic into two installments. I dunno. I just didn't want to rush things in the beginning, and now it seems as if I went a bit overboard, and now I can't rush things at the end. So we'll see what happens.
Anyway, see, I promised that I would quickly follow the last chapter with another one! I'm feeling much more dedicated to this story now and have time to do some writing before my summer gets genuinely busy – traveling, birthdays, Bible School teaching, reading for English class. Yes, can't wait for that last one; honestly, why would any sensible English teacher assign their students to read Great Expectations over the summer holidays? I know I shouldn't judge a book before I read it, but to me, it looks like five hundred pages of boredom. At least we only have to wait a month for the Half-Blood Prince!
I believe this chapter is a bit more interesting than the last one. And honestly, I had quite a lot of fun writing several parts. (Not to mention this chapter was about eleven pages on Word. One of my longest of the whole story, if not the longest!) I realize that it's been December for a while now (meaning I've had the setting near Christmas for several past chapters) but I'm going to move the story on a bit more quickly now, so don't worry, we'll soon be getting to other holidays.
It has also come to my attention that I'm probably not getting many reviews because nobody remembers what's happened in this story. And yes, I too had to go back and re-read segments to remember things. If you would like a quick overview of what has been going on, just to freshen up without having to re-read the entire story, just tell me so and I can personally e-mail you a summary.
Sorry for the incredibly long Author's Notes. They're probably the reason there are so many pages on Word for this chapter. I promise shorter ones in the future.
And of course, thank you so much for all the reviews - I was afraid I'd come back and nobody would review anymore. It means the world to me and is what keeps me writing.
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CHAPTER TWENTY: A SLANDEROUS MEETING
Tall, foreboding, mahogany walls surrounded Hermione and Harry as they traveled down the corridor leading to the Ministry of Magic conference rooms. The time on Hermione's ticking watch was two minutes to twelve, which meant two minutes till the start of the doomed meeting where she was sure to be fired once and for all. The regal carpet and intricately-designed wall lamps would normally occupy any regular wizard's attention; after all, the Ministry of Magic was praised in many a magazine for its astounding interior. The two wizards in question, however, didn't care any more for the meaningless décor than they did for the frostbitten flobberworms back up at Hogwarts.
Hermione thought Harry vaguely mentioned something about having to travel down the very same hallway the day he was called in for the Auror meeting, but she was too busy having mild panic attacks to be truly interested. Harry had given her a pep talk on their journey to the school (she had refused to Apparate, claiming that she was too tense to concentrate and would probably end up in the middle of a troll's lair or something), brushing her up on what she was allowed to discuss and what would most likely be best "concealed", or, as Hermione liked to call it, "lied about". If there was one thing she could admit she did not succeed at, it was definitely lying. Hermione's parents raised her to always tell the truth, and when situations came up where she was forced to lie in order to help someone or something similar, she certainly failed miserably and almost always ended up disappointing someone on the other end.
"You okay?" Harry asked, glancing at her stark white face.
"No."
"Normally, I'd say something helpful," said Harry, "but seeing as we've just arrived at room 201, where McGonagall said we'd be expected at, there's really no point."
Looking up, Hermione realized he was right – they were standing outside a dark door with a brass plate hanging next to it bearing three faded numbers. She instinctively reached out to grasp the door handle, only to discover there was no door handle, or key hole, or anything even remotely logical that would allow for their entrance. Perhaps they had the wrong room, Hermione thought. Perhaps they were on the wrong floor entirely. Perhaps the whole thing was just a joke, and instead, they could turn around and travel joyfully back up to the school where two warm cups of hot chocolate would be awaiting them in the staff room. She turned her head to look at Harry, expecting him to seem just as relieved, but Harry only wore an expression of intense anxiety on his face. The absence of a door handle hadn't fazed him at all.
The mysterious dungeon-like door abruptly began to creak open. Hermione held her breath and heard Harry inhale beside her; he stepped forward and, willing herself to be a strong, composed witch against whatever she was about to face, she quickly followed him into the dark room. The door closed behind them with a resounding clang, and just as Hermione's eyes began to adjust to the darkness, lights around the room were switched on, illuminating the unexpected and overwhelming scene before her.
She and Harry were standing at the front of a very spacious room obviously reserved for conferences, from the look of its interior. Lights lined the walls, shining down onto a polished, circular wooden table in the center, which was absolutely massive in size. Countless chairs surrounded the table, all facing one another, only to be occupied by an outstanding number of people. Hermione suddenly felt slightly awkward and self-conscious at the fact of so many eyes on her. She was accustomed to being at the head of a large classroom of students, but having people about twice her age with twice her knowledge glaring down upon her was something entirely different and much less comforting. And honestly, she really hadn't expected so many wizards to show up for this meeting.
Her eyes immediately connected with Ron's, who was sitting closest. A pale, sick countenance had replaced his usual cocky sneer. Hermione figured that Harry had asked Ron to come separately, for her benefit. She was momentarily grateful to Harry but decided she could spend time thanking him on much more cheerful occasion.
Seated next to Ron was Bella, looking not quite as nauseous as Hermione felt but considerably jumpy. Hermione wondered what she was doing at the meeting; Bella was in the dark about the facts Harry chose not to share with the public, so she could not possibly know of anything the Ministry didn't, such as the return of Lestrange. On the other side of Bella was Josie Hacklebush, who Hermione rarely had the pleasure of meeting with during the Hogwarts schooldays anymore. McGonagall was unable to make the meeting so she had, no doubt, sent Josie in her place (a rather stupid and pointless move on her part, Hermione thought). The frazzled witch was rocking back and forth in her chair, glancing into the faces of the people surrounding her every so often but carefully avoiding eye contact with each of them.
The only two Aurors other than Harry present in the room were Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody. Moody was whispering something to Tonks with a bowed head, as if attempting to conceal it from the others. It then hit Hermione that they were the allies in the meeting while everyone else, who Hermione had yet gotten to examining, was the enemy. Tonks and Moody were with them on this one; of course Harry had relayed all of their information, save for the Lestrange letter, to the Aurors, who were the only ones trustworthy inside the Ministry. It also hit her quite forcefully what exactly they were doing. Was she really going to get up in front of the most prominent people of the Ministry of Magic and lie? That was considered perjury… and, essentially, wizards were sent to Azkaban for perjury. She tried to comprehend this fact but its magnitude was just too much to bear. She honestly doubted she would be able to accomplish something like that easily.
There were three hooded figures next to Tonks and Moody not looking very keen to participate much in the meeting. Hermione remembered a story she once heard Harry telling about an encounter with these types of people and reasoned that these were Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries. Ron appeared to know these men, as they each gave him a nod and he returned them. Hermione quickly remembered Ron was the Head of the Department of Mysteries, after all, even though he didn't bear the title of "Unspeakable". To bring in Unspeakables was a difficult and rare task, only adding to the seriousness of whatever was about to be discussed. Hermione gulped. With each new face she took in, a deeper sense of misgiving descended upon her.
After the Unspeakables were a few more people Hermione barely remembered from her days at the Ministry. There was Joanne Kirk, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, who had sent her the lovely invitation to this meeting; the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, whose name escaped Hermione; the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot along with a severe-looking Elder (Hermione's nerves went on speed-drive at this surprise – she could very easily be convicted of perjury, tried, convicted, and shipped off to Azkaban all during the next ten minutes with such ominous members of the Wizengamot present, because why else would they have attended?); and several Ministry members Hermione had no recollection of that, with all the other significant wizards in the room, probably didn't have much importance at all.
But there were two more people seated at the table who made the situation all the more serious. These were two magnificent wizards Hermione feared, and she had never had any intentions whatsoever of lying to them. In fact, she would've rather wound up in the troll's lair than confront these men and commit perjury straight to their faces. Their presence at this meeting, which had quickly morphed into something far beyond what Hermione had imagined, laid it all out clearly for the whole room to see – what was about to be discussed was highly sincere, and nobody was to forget that.
First there was the Minister of Magic himself, Marshall Dempsey, seated in an impressive chair three feet higher than the rest. The respected man was one of the best British Ministers the country had seen in many years. Hermione had not seen much of him during her days spent in WIA Headquarters; he was known to keep to his office and work in solitude. The matters he attended to were surrounded by much secrecy and were also kept out of the public eye, but seeing Dempsey in the flesh alongside other such wizards was somewhat unusual. Hermione had never dreamed of ever coming in close contact with the man.
And finally, seated straight across the room from Hermione and staring at her with a look of something resembling disappointment – or could it be wrath? Either way, it was certainly dismaying – on his face was none other than her boss Duke Lawson. She didn't know what to make of his attendance; all she knew was that she was in serious trouble. Lawson would never be dragged from his work for something like this. She was now counting on getting fired from two jobs, all in one day. That was quite a record, she had to admit.
Harry made a small choking noise beside her. Apparently, he was just as flabbergasted as she was.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," Marshall Dempsey called out in an authoritative voice. "Thank you for joining us. If you'll kindly take your seats, we'll finally be able to get this meeting under way."
Hermione and Harry simultaneously sunk into two empty seats beside Ron. The Minister raised his hand and Joanne Kirk automatically took out a quill from her bag, along with a jar of ink and several long scrolls of parchment. She licked the tip of the quill, dipped it in the ink, smoothed out a parchment roll, and poised the quill just above the paper, looking to the Minister.
"On this day of the twentieth of December, everything discussed from this moment on will be officially noted by the Ministry of Magic," Dempsey announced to the awaiting table. The Undersecretary lowered her quill and began scribbling away on the parchment.
"Right. I am sure you are all aware of why this meeting has been called today," said Dempsey. "For the record, this meeting is being held to discuss the matters that have recently occurred at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now that the details have been taken care of, we'll get straight down to business. I do not intend to keep you all too long this afternoon, as I myself still have last-minute Christmas shopping to do."
There was a small chuckle that rippled around the table. It passed over Hermione, who was sitting as still as a stone statue, like a cold wave. She was getting annoyed by all the formality. If she was going to have to lie to the Ministry in order to cover up the happenings at Hogwarts connected to Bellatrix Lestrange, she wanted to get it over with before her nerves caused her a heart attack.
"We have been tipped off by an undisclosed source," Dempsey continued, "that the infamous Death Eaters have indeed returned."
"Who the hell…?" Harry whispered beside Hermione. No one else heard him, but Hermione was thinking the same thing.
"The Death Eaters, who disappeared shortly after the downfall of You-Kn – of Voldemort, as we all know, were recently spotted in Eastern Europe. It seems they have had a revelation and for reasons yet to be determined, have decided to appear back in public view."
"Upon further investigation," commented one of the wizards Hermione was unfamiliar with, "or, as I like to call it, during a raid of the Auror Headquarters, we discovered maps closely trailing the Death Eaters' path. Of course, the Ministry is dumbfounded as to why the Aurors would attempt to hide something of such value." The man finished his brief report with a nasty smirk directed clearly at Mad-Eye Moody, who was staring back placidly while his magical eye whirled furiously in its socket.
Harry's hand began to clench and unclench on the table next to Hermione. There was a fire blazing in his eyes like she had never seen before. She herself was shocked to hear the Ministry was conducting raids on the Auror Headquarters; how much had they managed to uncover, exactly? And who was the cause of all this – who was the rat that tipped the Ministry off? Naturally, the Ministry was bound to become much more interested after the death of the girl in the Forest, but someone had to have told them what they already knew.
"Thanks to these maps, which can now be found in possession of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the back of a vault nearly impossible to break into," continued another man with a sneer of pleasure on his face (it was obvious that the wizards were enjoying reprimanding the Aurors), "we learned that the Death Eaters are making a steady route westward. The members of this group in question are still unknown, as is their leader, but rest assured that his information won't go missing for long."
"In fact, it would save the Ministry quite a lot of time," remarked the first man, "if we just put together the missing pieces now. I must say that I believe you Aurors know more than you are letting on. Weasley, we'll try you, seeing as you're with the Department of Mysteries – you must have some idea as to who's behind this Death Eater uprising."
Ron looked the man in the face with a steely glare and said aloud for the entire table to hear, "No, I don't."
"Interesting. Miss Granger," the man said, moving his gaze to Hermione. She gulped. She just couldn't do this. "You're a wise girl. You didn't win the Most Valuable Witch award three years in a row for nothing, now, did you? Tell us – who is it the Death Eaters are following?"
"I – I don't know, sir," Hermione said quietly.
"Is it one of their own? Or is it a Dark Lord from another country?"
"I – no, it's –"
"Could it be a follower of Voldemort risen from the past to finish his work, even?" the man asked, a maniacal glint now in his eyes.
"I said I don't know," Hermione burst out a bit more roughly than she intended to. She was beginning to feel irked with all the questioning but, at the same time, was apprehensive she might let something slip. "Er, sir."
"Right. We'll see to that," said the wizard. He sat back in his chair and scribbled something on a small notebook in his lap, shooting suspicious glances at Hermione.
"During the said raid," continued on another man, apparently associated with the other two who had already spoken, "several valuable pieces of information were collected. However, various large chunks of information also appeared to be missing… or, at least, absent from the possession of the Auror Headquarters. It seems that something along the lines of, say, a records book," the annoyingly sly man emphasized, now staring directly into the face of an infuriated Harry, "was not present. You, Mr. Potter, wouldn't have any idea where to locate something of the sort, would you?"
"No, I wouldn't," Harry said through clenched teeth.
"And remember, Mr. Potter," said the Chief Warlock in a booming tone, "lying in the presence of the Minister of Magic is considered perjury in our justice system. It would be such a shame to be convicted of something so unnecessary."
Hermione was beginning to feel legitimately frightened. This "meeting" was not at all what she had expected. Instead, it was turning into something dark and nasty. It appeared as if the whole room was out to get Hermione, Ron, and the Aurors, force them into committing some sort of crime in front of members of the Wizengamot, and then ship them off to Azkaban so they'd be out of the way. And truthfully, that seemed to be very close to what was happening. The Ministry members, including the Minister himself, seemed to think Hermione and the others were conducting an investigation of their own against the Ministry when their backs were turned – but in all actuality, that was precisely what was happening. The Aurors didn't want the Ministry to intervene in fear of the situation going public; they felt they had a better hold on matters when the Minister and his men weren't involved. And the more Hermione thought about it, the more she realized that they were actually forming an alliance against the Ministry of Magic. She was vividly reminded of her fifth year at Hogwarts, a time when the Ministry was more foe than friend. How was it that her past was coming to repeat itself in different disguises? Any way she looked at it, she knew she and the others were in trouble… if raids were being conducted on the Auror Headquarters, then perhaps it was time to give everything up to the Ministry and let them solve it.
But you've come too far for that now, said a voice in Hermione's head. You can't let the others down. The Ministry may be experts in these situations, but you and the Aurors are the elite. Don't give it up.
"You have no need to enlighten us on the matters of perjury, sir," Hermione said suddenly, astonishing herself. All heads turned towards her again, many wearing expressions of surprise. "We have not come here today with intentions of committing any crimes, if you will."
The Chief Warlock gazed back at Hermione with an unreadable countenance, but the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement only broke into a wide smirk. "In that case, Professor Granger," he said with far too much cheekiness, "would you care to tell us what your position actually is up at Hogwarts? Duke Lawson, Head of the WIA and also your boss, has informed us that you were sent to monitor the strange happenings of Hogwarts students and, ultimately, put your acclaimed Agent skills to good use and come up with an answer. So far, we have yet to see any progress. Actually, the students only seem to be getting worse. Tell us, Professor – is it true? Are the house-elves really putting something in the students' drinks?"
Now it was Hermione's turn to clench her teeth and glare at the disrespecting moron across the table laughing at his own joke. She was absolutely livid. The letter written to her had failed to mention that during the meeting, she and the others would receive criticism, be publicly made fools of in front of more than a dozen prominent members of the wizarding community, and have their authority questioned by blokes who could hardly call themselves wizards. She wondered if any of this was legal and how in the world the Minister could actually sit through this with a mere grin on his face. Her opinion of the man had rapidly changed for the worse since the start of the meeting. And they all thought this was funny.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," the Minister said suddenly, breaking the tension that was amounting in the room. He had wiped the smile off his face and had taken to staring the three down quite seriously. "It has come to our attention that – er – you are not fully living up to your potential on your case at Hogwarts. We cannot put the students at risk or afford to lose any more lives in unfortunate accidents. Perhaps it would be best if you were removed from the school and replaced by wizards less distracted and more focused."
There was silence in the room. Hermione's worst fears were finally confirmed. She could very easily be a Divination teacher, she reasoned, with how well she had predicted that oncoming blow.
"Sir, if I may speak," said a voice a few seats down from Hermione. She craned her neck forward to see Bella, who had remained quiet up until now, staring meaningfully at the Minister.
"Of course. Seeing as you are Junior Head of the Wizengamot, I would be delighted."
I knew she was involved in the Wizengamot! Hermione thought triumphantly. That explains what she's doing here.
"Thank you. In my opinion, it would be a very foolish mistake to remove Potter, Weasley, and Granger from the case," Bella said smoothly. "If you do recall, it was I who supported Minerva McGonagall in their recommendation. I cannot think of any three wizards more qualified for this job. And if you were present at Hogwarts as I am, you would find the mission to solve this case a very trying one. With anyone less skilled on the job, the entire school would be behaving like a zoo in no time, if you understand what I'm saying."
Another silence followed Bella's speech. Hermione's head was whirling; there just may be a chance that she'd get to keep her job. She had never appreciated Bella much before, but now, she felt a warm wave of affection towards her co-worker. She made a mental note to pick up a very nice Christmas gift for her before the holidays.
"Well." The Minister of Magic was clearly at a loss for words. "Miss Levrero, I – I take your advice to heart, I really do. I just don't know if, this time, it would be wise to listen to such –"
"I agree," Tonks spoke up. "That woman's right. I've known those three since their school days and there is nobody else you'd want for this job."
"Only an idiot would replace Potter, Weasley, and Granger," Moody added in a snarl. "You wouldn't want the public to think of you as such, would you, now, Marshall?"
"I – I, well, of course not, Alastor, but –" Dempsey was beginning to stutter and chuckle. All eyes were on him, some warning him not to make a stupid decision, others begging him to declare the meeting adjourned (Hermione among these few). Finally, Marshall Dempsey smoothed down his robes calmly and narrowed his eyes at the trio.
"Fine. It seems as if I am being overruled here. And I do know it is wise to heed Miss Levrero's counsel. You three won't be fired, today, at least. But just know that the Ministry is not impressed with your work at the school. I believe it is safe in saying that this will be all over tomorrow morning's issue of the Daily Prophet, so in about twenty hours' time, our inboxes will be flooded with outraged letters from the community concerning the return of the Death Eaters. It will now be known publicly how much danger we are all essentially in. What I'm saying is, this case at the school is becoming very tedious and it willbe wrapped up soon, understand? We will be focusing all our strength on the upcoming challenges dealing with the news of the Death Eaters and I do not need to be worrying about some mentally ill adolescents."
Hermione, Harry, and Ron all nodded, very much relieved to still be clinging onto their jobs with the case.
"But there is one thing you must remember," Dempsey said in a threatening voice. "You will not interfere with this, agreed? I'm talking about the Death Eaters. It is not your concern so you will see to it that you stay out of it. Am I clear?"
The trio nodded again.
"Right. I believe it is a good idea to have Ministry officials check in on the status of Hogwarts often, don't you think?" the Minister asked, looking to the Chief Warlock, who nodded his head furiously. "Then it's settled. We'll have daily reports coming back to us from the officials we send up to the school. Oh, and one last thing before this meeting is officially finished," he added as an after-thought, looking towards Moody again. "No more of this secret information being kept from the Ministry, understood? I very rarely conduct raids on our own Auror Headquarters, as it is a nasty business, and never hope to do so again. The items we confiscated will remain under our watch until further notice. Wouldn't want anything to happen to your job either, Alastor."
"Too right," Moody muttered.
"I believe that's everything!" said Dempsey, as if the past hour had been spent playing a pleasant game of chess, not rebuking the trio and the Aurors into blazing fury. "This meeting is now adjourned! Hope you all have a wonderful holiday, and perhaps we'll have another one of these nice little meetings sometime soon…"
"Don't bet your life on it, mate," Ron said under his breath as he, Harry, and Hermione quickly got up from their seats and exited the room, soon to be followed by the other members of the meeting. On their way out, Hermione caught the gaze of her Duke Lawson, who was giving her a perceptive look of discontent; her heart sank. She had never once before disappointed her boss so.
In the corridor outside the conference room, Tonks and Moody met up with the trio as everyone else shuffled past, jostling them slightly. Moody was muttering furiously under his breath with Tonks, whose hair had been a sweet shade of blue at the beginning of the meeting but was now a violent purple to match the color in her cheeks, behind him.
"Bloody bastards," Moody said once the five had formed a tight circle some five feet down from the door. "Raiding Headquarters. Wish you would've been there, Potter. I'd like to have seen you trying to blast them right up the –"
"We can't talk about this now," Tonks whispered, looking over her shoulder. "There's no place safe enough in the Ministry, either. Listen, Harry," she said seriously. "We'll come up on Christmas after the feast, all right? I reckon not too many students will be round for the holidays this year, and there aren't any bloody Ministry officials around to raid our offices. Damn them. I'll Owl you the time we'll arrive, so don't make any plans."
Harry, still speechless from the lengthy meeting, nodded.
The two Aurors disappeared down the corridor with the rest of the members of the meeting, leaving Hermione, Harry, and Ron alone outside room 201. All three of them looked from one to the other, all unable to form any words to meet their shock and rage. Instead, they slowly followed Tonks and Moody to the end of the corridor where, from there, they made their way home back to Hogwarts, as thankful as ever to be able to depart still holding onto their jobs.
"You've got to be kidding."
An astounded Ginny Weasley was staring back at Hermione with her mouth hanging open and her eyes alight. The two were sitting at a disorganized table in the back of the Hogwarts library, their heads bowed in conversation. Hermione had returned to the school not long ago and learned of her friend's whereabouts; she traveled to the library to find Ginny hunched over the little table, feverishly scribbling on paper after paper, muttering to herself about ridiculous second-years. When asked, she said that she had taken refuge in the library because Braedon Keleher, the obnoxiously handsome flying teacher, was parading around the staff room in a Father Christmas outfit, passing out butterbeer and singing carols at the top of his lungs. "These compositions aren't going to grade themselves," she had said shrewdly.
"No, I'm absolutely serious."
"They actually raided the Auror Headquarters?" Ginny asked, aghast.
Hermione nodded.
"But they can't do that!" Ginny shouted. Hermione shushed her and told her to keep her voice down. "Sorry. How is that legal, though? It can't be. And now the Ministry's confiscated everything valuable and they don't seem very keen on letting the Aurors use it?"
"Right."
Ginny let out a groan of exasperation. "This is mad, Hermione! You don't just wake up one morning and decide to raid the Aurors into insanity."
"Well, they were keeping information from the Ministry," Hermione said sensibly. "But you're right about that. Someone had to have tipped them off about the information they were hiding. The Ministry doesn't like to be kept in the dark about things going on within their own walls, you know. Dempsey seems to be the type of man who needs to be in control of everything all the time. Before the raid, the Ministry only knew a small portion of the whole situation, and now they know almost all of it."
"What else is there to it?"
"Erm – nothing, really," Hermione said quickly. She had almost forgotten who she was talking to. Ginny knew nothing of the missing records book, the letter, or even Bellatrix Lestrange, and she had strict orders not to tell her. As trustworthy as she knew Ginny was, there were always ways for information to leak out and others to overhear. "Just a few things Harry mentioned. I don't know much, really, I suppose it's a couple of details they didn't bother telling the Ministry. But in the end, we're still in the same amount of trouble. You know, the Ministry's going to be sending people up to check on the school?"
"No," Ginny gasped. "They don't think you're competent?"
"Not at all," said Hermione. "I think the first official is to arrive this evening, or in the morning, I'm not sure. So now it feels as if we'll have people watching our every move."
"Spying on us."
"Exactly."
Ginny sighed again. "Don't take this the wrong way, Hermione," she began hesitantly, "but we really need to find out what's happening here. I'm scared for everyone's safety. Just – just do your best, okay? You and Harry and Ron."
Hermione nodded. Ginny was right… time seemed to be running out. Who knew where Lestrange was now? She could be behind the bookcase on Hermione's left for all they knew. And solving the case at Hogwarts meant solving the case of Bellatrix Lestrange and the Death Eaters, because even if the Minister and his men didn't know it, Bellatrix was most certainly connected with the strange occurrences.
And the Minister was wrong if he thought the trio was going to stay out of the Death Eaters business, because anyone who knew Harry, Ron, and Hermione also knew that it was impossible for them disregard such mortal affairs.
Two evenings later, Hermione threw open the front doors to Hogwarts, clutching her wool cloak close to her body and trying to push the doors shut while the wind forcefully worked against her. The great wooden doors finally closed with a resonating boom, shutting out the intense snowstorm raging across the Hogwarts lawns. Hermione shivered and shook her head, watching the snow fall out of her hair and onto the floor, melting into the marble. Her boots were soaked, as were her robes all the way up to her knees; as she walked along, her shoes made a squelching noise, leaving behind quite snowy footprints.
She had just been down to visit Hagrid, as she hadn't seen him in quite some time. Harry had gone with her, but Hermione was desperate to finish grading the sixth-years' essays before Christmas, resulting in her early departure. Honestly, she was grateful to get away from Hagrid's rock-solid "cakes", or as she liked to call them, "miniature boulders". She had apologized to Hagrid for not taking to heart what he had said about the Death Eaters and Lestrange on her first visit to his cabin, but he didn't seem to mind. Since Hagrid was an old friend and, more importantly, a respected and valued member of the Order, Hermione and Harry felt it was safe to give him a report of the Ministry meeting. He was just as flabbergasted as Ginny had been, and if he had been there, Hermione had a notion none of the Ministry officials would've walked out on two stable legs.
The castle was eerily quiet; nearly all students save for a handful of unfortunate ones had traveled home for the winter holidays. Needless to say, none of the students had any inclination at all to stay at the school, nor did their parents want them to – they all feared for the safety of their children. Hermione wouldn't be surprised is several parents decided to keep their children home for the remainder of the school year.
She momentarily wondered where she had left her stack of papers when Harry had dragged her off to Hagrid's… it came back to her that they were last seen mounted high on a desk in the middle of the staff room. She began to head in that direction, slightly agitated at the prospect of probably having to grade well into the night again, but halted suddenly when voices began to drift in her direction.
"Are you really a nationally famous… what did you call it?"
"No, internationally famous Agent for the WIA. I'm quite esteemed, actually."
The two voices seemed to be coming from the end of the hallway near a tapestry. Hermione slinked along the corridor until she reached the other side, just feet away from the voices, but was still unable to see their speakers. An ancient but massive statue nearby caught her attention and she dashed behind it, finding she was in perfect view of the people speaking. They were not, however, people she had expected to find in the very least – or wanted to find at all, for that matter.
"Ahh, I zee. Does zat mean you have caught many bad wizards?"
"Oh, loads. You wouldn't believe the outrageous numbers. Some of them even escape after they've been caught, and then we have to go capture them again… so much bloody work, you know."
A tall and slender witch with remarkably perfect blonde hair and stunning magenta robes was leaning against the wall, a smirk playing across her doll-like face. Ron was standing beside her, a strange look present in his eyes, as he spewed out exaggeration after exaggeration to the striking blonde. Hermione was positively appalled; not only was this another female, she knew this to be the most recent Ministry official that Dempsey had sent up to the school for reports. The witch had been hanging around for the past two days, walking around with a quill and small notebook in hand, stopping to stare at random blank walls or dull portraits, only to walk away scribbling. Hermione and Ginny had both suspected she had no clue what she was doing and was obviously writing pointless comments, such as, "Highly suspicious painting on fourth floor – occupant takes to shouting out rude comments to passerby. Report will be filed for confiscation of painting obviously containing dark magic."
"You must be very brave," said the witch, twirling her wand in her hands, "going up against all zese dangerous zings. Per'aps you can spend more time later telling moi zese fascinating stories?"
Ron looked like he was about to melt right there on the spot.
Hermione felt a sudden wave of fury – and, could it be, jealousy? – come upon her. Just what exactly did Ron think he was doing? This was practically fraternizing with the enemy; he could be spilling out all of their secrets about the whole case to this woman from the Ministry just because she had nice hair. And, was it possible that he was trying to seduce her? Or maybe it was the other way around. The brainless witch seemed –
Then it hit Hermione. The flawless face, the perfect blonde hair, and the accent, which Hermione finally realized to be French, could only mean one thing. This woman was definitely part Veela. That explained why Ron was putty in her hands, clinging on to her every word and boasting about ridiculous things – honestly, him, a WIA agent? – as men often did when in the presence of Veela. That genuinely sent Hermione over the edge. Shows how shallow men really are, she thought bitterly.
The couple continued talking but Hermione had tuned them out and, seconds later, the Veela-witch departed down the corridor in Hermione's direction as Ron sauntered off the opposite way. There was a certain way about his swagger that made Hermione think Ron was very pleased with himself. She had an urge to whip out her wand and curse him from halfway down the hall but stopped herself. It could wait for another time.
Hermione waited till the witch was a good distance away before getting to her feet, only to smash her head into a suspended part of the statue. She heard the stone crack and swayed for a moment on the spot, the corridor coming in and out of focus rapidly. She silently cursed herself for being so clumsy and when her eyes readjusted, standing in front of her was the blonde Veela-witch, a look of amusement on her face.
"Didn't see that," Hermione mumbled, rubbing the top of her head where a very large bump had now formed. The witch only stared back, a ghost of a smirk on her lips and a snicker rising in her throat.
"So, er, from the Ministry, are you?" said Hermione, now suddenly aware of how awkward and embarrassed she felt. Really, she had no intention to stay and chat with the annoying woman, and decided she could either smooth it all over with a polite comment or two, or dash down the hall, never to look back. She knew the second choice would perceive her as an idiot, so she went with the first.
The witch nodded again, her immaculate blonde hair reflecting the candlelight of the hall.
Hermione was just about to turn her back and quickly return to the staff room, giving some sort of improvised excuse, because it was quite apparent between the two that Hermione had been listening on the encounter between the woman and Ron, when she spoke, a much more visible smirk now on her lips. It was obvious she wasn't attempting to hide it from Hermione.
"Impressive job, Agent for ze Ministry," she said. "One woman would be lucky to 'ave a man with such skills, no?"
"Er – yeah, sure?"
"I cannot say zat I myself possess such skills. Not many wizards do. 'ow often does one come across an esteemed man with, how do you say, such expertise?"
Hermione wasn't sure where the woman was going with this pointless conversation, so she spoke up, voicing an opinion that was sure to knock this pretty half-Veela. "Looks and skills aren't everything," she said matter-of-factly. "When it comes to men, as most women know, their occupation isn't what matters; it's the attraction between the two."
"I thought zat you were a Transformation professeur, not one of philosophy."
"It's Transfiguration."
"What I am merely trying to say 'ere is zat it must hurt knowing the man you want doesn't want you back," said the witch, whose face was now displaying a fully sarcastic grin. "But you must learn not to take zat so personally, oui? After all, you are but a mere Transformation professeur while uzzers are out saving ze world with zer skills. I 'ave heard from certain men zat being an Agent ees much hard work – but, zen again, you wouldn't know much about zat type of work, would you?"
The Veela-witch flashed one last sneer at Hermione before turning her back and strolling down the corridor, twirling her wand between her fingers again. Hermione had half a notion to shout after her, "I think I know more about being an Agent than you're leading yourself to believe, you half-wit!" But instead she too left the statue in the hallway and headed for her original destination, the staff room, only this time, attempting to blink away the warm tears in her eyes. She wasn't going to let some Witch Weekly poster girl tell her about men and the kind she, a mere professor, deserved. Oh, if only she knew, Hermione thought. If only she knew that I myself know the very spell to fry that bloody wig on top of her head. Agent training definitely came with some side bonuses Hermione figured she would never find the opportunities to use.
And then there was Ron, drooling at the feet of this faux beauty, possibly using Hermione's own experiences as a member of the WIA – honestly, couldn't he be a bit more original? – to attract the woman to him. "Pathetic," Hermione spat aloud, pushing aside the thought that it mostly wasn't Ron's fault as the woman was part Veela. That was no excuse.
Hermione finally reached the staff room and swung open the door to find it bustling with activity. All of Hogwarts' professors seemed to be milling around the room before dinner hour. Ron, thankfully, was no where in sight, so Hermione rushed towards her favorite armchair and sunk into it, only to find that Harry was seated in the adjacent one.
"Did you get lost or something on the way back up here?" he asked. "You left Hagrid's before me and arrived here after."
Hermione, slightly thankful at having someone nearby to spill her thoughts to, explained to Harry what she encountered in the corridor. She fought back tears when retelling the part of the awful half-Veela dishing out criticism, and when she finished, she felt considerably better, like a bad secret had been lifted off her chest.
Harry listened without commenting and when Hermione wrapped up her short story, he remained silent for several long seconds. Hermione was beginning to think that perhaps he hadn't been listening at all when he said, "You know what, Hermione? You need to go out and have some fun. No, I'm not talking about shopping at the bookstore, that doesn't exactly qualify as real fun. Tomorrow night, Christmas Eve, I think I have just the thing in mind."
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Author's Notes: Yes, these again. Sorry, but I must say that I am genuinely beginning to feel pissed off. First, this stupid website won't accept my A/N breaks (resulting in the now dashed lines as you see above) and now I can't add in asterisks in the middle of the story! I had to replace them with a ruler, which I am not too fond of. Is anyone else having this problem? Is there a way to rectify this problem? Because if so, I would truly like to be let in on it. I'm afraid I'll end up letting out my frustration on something unfortunate, say, my computer screen, any minute now.