Magical Mystery Tour
Disclaimer: I am not making money out of this. All characters you recognize belong to J. K. Rowling, and the plot as been kindly supplied by sophierom on WIKTT.
Chapter 1
In which Hermione Granger has very unpleasant news
Roll up, roll up,
Rol up for the Mystery Tour…
"Yes, Mr Dawlish…I know…of course, you're right…"
Hermione glanced at her watch. It was nearly one.
"Yes…However, the engagement was quiet clear. I admit it was not your fault that Muggle was hexed by your sister's purse, but it happened…Look, I'm sorry…"
Her stomach rumbled. She hated that part of her job. Her fingers started to fiddle with the newspaper on her desk, rolling and smoothing the front page, which titled "Ministry Employee hexes a Muggle thief"; "full story at page 3", promised Rita Skeeter.
How had the wretched woman known about it? And why, why had Hermione ever set her free from the glass jar?
"I've got a call on the other line," said Hermione, crossing her fingers. "May I call you later? Thank you, goodbye."
With a satisfactory click, the conversation ended, and Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. Earlier that week, during a tour in Muggle London, a thief had tried to steal Dawlish' sister's purse, with the obvious result that the purse had exploded in his face. The man had been promptly taken to St. Mungo, and the passers-by Obliviated, but Hermione had got an owl from the Wizengamot all the same. The Healers demanded a compensation for the treatment, and who should pay?
According to the contract Dawlish had signed, Hermione's agency, the Magical Mystery Tour, was not responsible for any loss or thefts the customers might undergo while on tour. Dawlish, however, was not of this opinion. The MMT, he'd said quite clearly to the press, was bound by the magical contract to deal with the Muggle world, allowing its customers, as it was said on the leaflet, to "discover new places and learn to enjoy them safely". It was to be expected that a wizard should protect his belongings with magical enchantments; it was also to be expected that Muggles should try to steal these belongings away (dozens of letters had been written to the Daily Prophet about this last statement); it was therefore, logically, the MMT's responsibility to deal with Muggle thieves.
Hermione got up from her desk and put on her jacket, frowning. Dawlish had just called, for the hundredth time, to state his rights. He seemed to think that what the Wizengamot had to say was irrelevant: the main thing was for Hermione to understand his position. The problem, he said, was that he had no money for the Healers. Well, Hermione understood it well: she had no money too. The small sum she'd borrowed from her parents had been used to set up her agency and to pay the rent for the small Muggle flat she inhabited; there had been not enough left to activate the Floo network, how could she afford to repay St. Mungo?
As she stormed out of her flat, she bumped into a person who was waiting at the door.
"Sorry, I – Harry! What are you doing here?"
Harry Potter had not changed much since his years at Hogwarts. He had the same striking green eyes, the same thin frame and the same boyish stubborness. Even his scar was still there, having not vanished, as many had predicted, with Voldemort's death. Harry had readily accepted this: it was a reminder of how much that battle had costed.
"Hi to you too," he said. "You were 30 minutes late, so I decided to come here and force you to the restaurant."
Hermione blushed.
"Harry,I'm so sorry!" she said, "It's just all this Dawlish business, it was him on the phone just now and – "
"Why don't we talk about it over lunch?" said Harry, gently stirring her to their favourite Muggle restaurant.
"Oh, we don't really need to talk about it, do we? It's all over the papers… What about you? Is Ginny okay?"
Harry grinned.
"She's more than ok! We felt the baby kicking last night!"
Hermione stopped in his track, her heart skipping a beat, then she forced a smile.
"Oh, that's wonderful! That's really…really…"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing…I'm just…Nothing, it's this whole Dawlish business…"
Later on, Hermione gulped down her soup while Harry droned on the baby, when he was due, how would his room be, how Ginny had finished a new purple little jumper. She couldn't understand why she felt so annoyed. Even seeing Harry, these times, was irritating at best. It was partly because of the baby, of course; but not only.
After Ron's death, Hermione had been overwhelmed by a through disgust of the Wizarding World. She'd given the best years of her life, her best friend to the cause. It was enough. She wanted out. Hoping in some freedom, she'd founded a small tourist office, the Magical Mystery Tour, keeping company to inexperienced wizards as they visited famous Muggle places. But now, on the eve of the Dawlish vs. Granger hearing, even this tiny opening to freedom seemed doomed. What if she lost? She'd have no money left, no customers; she would be back in her parents' house.
"Hermione?"
"Oh…sorry, what were you saying?"
Harry pushed his plate aside.
"Is this really worrying you that much?" he asked gently.
Hermione didn't have to think about the answer.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, absolutely. I will almost certainly lose, I admit myself that Dawlish is right. I should have been more careful."
"And what will you do if you lose?"
Here it was, the straightforward question Hermione had avoided to ask herself since the first owl from Dawlish.
"Well…" she stammered, "I suppose I'll…I'll go back to my parents' house."
Harry looked at her very seriously.
"Are you sure about it?"
"I know, I know, but what can I do? What can I do? No boyfriend, no job, no nothing! What do you want me to do?"
"Well, I've done some research on this subject," Harry admitted.
"Research?" said Hermione, stunned. "You? Sorry," she added, seeing the expression on his face, "I didn't want to be rude, it's just…"
"Well, I am pretty bored in playing Quidditch all day," Harry said, mockingly.
Hermione blushed, but before she could say anything he rushed on.
"Why don't you continue your business – abroad? After all, many wizards know Muggle London, but you said yourself you were surprised at how little they knew about other countries. As it is," he continued, ignoring her disbelief, "I have a colleague working in Italy who said he'd help you. What do you say?"
Hermione gaped, and Harry laughed.
"Italy? And where – what – how should I pay for everything?"
"I'll be your first customer," said Harry quietly, waving for the bill. "And I'll pay you a lot."
"I – I – "
"Wonderful. I'll speak to Mr. Weasley tonight, he said yesterday it would look good if you had detailed plans for your future."
Italy.
Hermione knew she ought to be listening to what Dawlish was saying, but she found she just couldn't. Was Italy a mad idea? Italy was very appealing for English wizards, but few of them chose it as a journey destination because it was ill-equipped for magical lifestyle. The Inquisition had drawn out of the country most of its magical community, and wizards were not accustomed to journey staying in Muggle hotels overnight.
"The Magical Mystery Tour, represented here in the person of Miss Hermione Granger…"
Hermione tried to clear her head and listen to the Chief Warlock, but his speech seemed to consist in significant, isolated words, which were not connected, in Hermione's brain, by actual sentences.
"…guilty of charges…Hogwarts…excellent student…war…merits…young people's possibilities…"
What did that mean? What was he saying? Maybe famous Hermione Granger, friend of much more famous Harry Potter, would not be condemned as a common fraud after all.
"…because of all these reasons, the Wizengamot has decided that you should take part in the Wizarding Social Program for the Unwanted; particularly, you are asked to employ and form through your agency a person who…"
Hermione lost track again. Social work. That was not so bad. She pictured Stan Shunpike, and imagined to show him her office and bring him around to Downing Street and the Tube. It would be annoying, but apparently there would be no money lost.
"The Wizengamot approves of your plans in expanding your business abroad…"
Hermione sighed. Had Harry told everyone? She had not decided yet, for God's sake!
"…and identifies in the person of Severus Snape…"
Hermione's whole body gave a jolt. What where they talking about? Snape? Snape? She'd not heard from Snape since the day Voldemort was defeated, and she surely didn't miss him.
"…most suitable for the job, as he masters four languages and has studied at Palermo's Alchemical School…"
The Chief Warlock suddenly stopped reading his document.
"Would you need a glass of water, Miss Granger? You look rather pale."