Chapter 1 Believe Them All
Hermione Granger furrowed her eyebrows, and pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, as she concentrated on the haphazard stacks of parchment scattered across the surface of her desk. There were three different sets of documents, the edges each color-coded blue, green and red, to avoid confusion, but the contents read with an eerie similarity. Three Muggle families, each with children attending Hogwarts, had been completely obliterated. Their homes nearly destroyed by fire and reduced to rubble within five days of the start of winter break.
The first fire had occurred the second day after the end of term, at the home of Martin Blackman, a second year Hufflepuff, hopeful house-team beater and fan of Puddlemere United. The Blackman family had lived in a modest home in Metheringham village. Mr. Blackman was a local schoolteacher and Mrs. Blackman a librarian. Martin was the first wizard in his family. He also had a younger sister, Jolie, who was expecting her Hogwarts letter in July.
The second fire occurred just hours after the first, in Pilchard. Molly Gladstone was a first year Ravenclaw, also her family's first witch. It seems she spent her free time in the library, reading whatever volumes found their way into her willing hands.
Hermione smiled reminiscently as she remembered the hours she spent exploring the seemingly endless library shelves. Many of those books became like treasured friends, solid, dependable and present. They were one of her greatest comforts as she struggled to find her place among the children of well established Wizarding families. Those books helped her fill many lonely hours until she befriended Harry and Ron, and many hours after as well, when Quidditch became the focus of the boys' conversation and activity. With quiet resignation, Hermione returned her gaze to the papers in front of her.
When away from school, Molly lived with her mother, Violet, who was employed as a shop assistant at a nearby dress shop. Molly was an only child.
The third fire occurred two days later in Little Whittleby. Robert Quaverley was a second year Ravenclaw who excelled in Herbology, mischief and pranks. He lived with his Grandmother and older sister, Anna. Robert's mother, Rose, the first witch in her family, also a former Hogwarts student, Ravenclaw, had mysteriously disappeared about seven years ago. Hermione had a vague memory of a shy, dark-haired girl with pink hair ribbons, who walked with a slight limp, several years ahead of her in school. The identity and whereabouts of Robert's father are unknown.
Given the circumstances of the "supposed" accidents, Hermione thought it rather odd that she was given these assignments. Ever since coming to work for the Ministry of Magic five years ago, she had worked as Arthur Weasley's assistant in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and hadn't investigated anything more dangerous than enchanted toasters or belching toilet seats, most courtesy of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.
The reasons Hermione ended up enmeshed in this investigation made her a bit nervous and uncertain. The papers had arrived, by owl, from the Minister at the end of the day yesterday in a huge envelope with her name written in large, dark letters across the front. It had also been marked confidential. Hermione had barely had enough time to scan the first couple of pages before it was time to go home.
The supposed accidental deaths of three Muggle families with magical connections in such rapid succession left little doubt of foul play. Obviously, the Ministry felt some kind of inquiry was in order. However, there being no obvious malevolent, magical connection, despite the children being students at Hogwarts, the Ministry was left in a quandary as to how to begin, let alone accomplish an investigation.
"But why me?" she whispered to herself. Although she didn't doubt for a minute she could do a more than adequate job of the inquiry, she wondered at the wisdom of allowing someone, with little investigative experience, to check into what would probably turn out to be multiple murder investigations.
Reconciling herself to the task at hand, she took out a quill and several clean sheets of parchment to begin taking notes from the myriad reports she was reading. Her goal was to find a few less obvious correlations between the students, their families and their experiences.
Glancing at the reports from the Muggle Fire Inspectors, Hermione noted that each of the tragedies began in upstairs rooms, probably the children's bedrooms. There seemed to be no presence of accelerants in any of the situations. Yet, as indicated, the fires each spread at alarming rates, so rapidly that there would have been no opportunity to perform rescue attempts for any members of the households even if the fire brigades had arrived in time. If fact, the fires burned so rapidly that they burned themselves out before assistance even arrived.
Another strange notation was that the fires themselves seemed to be selective entities, about what and where they burned. Chasing rapidly through bedrooms and sitting rooms where the family members were located, but leaving untouched hallways, stairwells, snugs and small box rooms that separated the much larger spaces. Selective fires, almost as if they could think for themselves.
Hastily written in blue ink at the bottom of one report was the notation that a neighbor of the Quaverley's, a Mrs. Heaney, noticed that before the fire burned itself out, it acquired an almost greenish glow. Next to that was penciled another small note about the "poor, old dear imbibing in too much cooking sherry."
She became so absorbed in her task that she didn't notice as she worked her way through her lunch hour. It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon before the rumbling of her stomach became too noisy to ignore. Shelving all thoughts for a minute, Hermione made her way through the noisy chaos that always greeted her in Auror Headquarters. She smiled and waved absentmindedly at Tonks who greeted her from inside her small cubicle.
Hermione entered the lift and pushed the button for Level Nine. Level Nine, she thought it fitting that the staff canteen was located on the same floor as the Department of Mysteries. Looking down at her plate of food, she noticed that today's Shepherds Pie looked remarkably like yesterday's Hangleton Hot Pot. With a sigh, she pushed herself away from the table and returned to her office.
Just as she was about to re-attack the tangle of documents, the sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted her reverie. Hermione looked up annoyed at the interruption, then her eyes widened in shock.
'Professor Dumbledore…"she began, startled at his appearance, as he entered the room and discreetly closed the door. She hadn't seen Professor Dumbledore since the morning after Harry had defeated Voldemort at Godric's Hollow nearly ten years ago, three years after they left Hogwarts. They had all lost a lot of friends that night; Remus, Seamus, Cho, Professor Flitwick. Madame Hooch suffered so severely from a Crucio curse that she had been living at St. Mungo's ever since.
"Please stay seated, my dear," Dumbledore began in his slightly raspy voice. "Also, forgive me this interruption, but I fear this is not a social call." He seated himself in the chair opposite her crowded desk. His eyes had lost their distinctive twinkle. In fact, his whole demeanor seemed very grave.
"Of course, sir." Hermione returned. She already knew what was coming, but asked anyway. "How can I be of assistance to you?"
"I know, Ms. Granger, that you are aware of the unfortunate situations that have arisen."
Hermione nodded in acknowledgement. Dumbledore continued, "I know you understand that any concerns I have about the repetition of those events which occurred in the recent past have reawakened with this current onslaught of violence."
"Are you saying, sir, that you think Lord Voldemort has returned?" Hermione was aghast at this revelation.
Hermione remembered Harry's recounting of how Voldemort used a portkey to kidnap him from the center of the Triwizard Tournament maze, took his blood to perform a rebirthing ceremony and once again tried to kill him. That small amount of blood nearly brought about the destruction of the entire world.
It seemed that Voldemort finally had enough human in him to die. But the outcome of Voldemort's actions would seriously wound one of the Wizarding world's greatest heroes. For late that October night, when Harry faced and destroyed Voldemort ten years ago, he had nearly destroyed himself.
During the final showdown, when a badly bruised and battered Harry took aim and launched his final blast at the Dark Lord, the Wizarding world was shaken to it foundations. In that moment, the minute amount of Harry's blood, absorbed by Voldemort, screamed out for its source, and a severely wounded Harry, blood cells screaming from the final release of energy, energy given by his mother's sacrifice, was driven mad from the rebounding synergy.
The world changed that day, too. It shook as if being pummeled, and twisted as if trying to turn inward upon itself. People screamed out in distress, fear and agony. The mass destructive chaos was over in less than a minute. The buildings could be rebuilt. Most of the people continued their lives, without even acknowledging the events of that night; but some, the warriors who faced down that ultimate evil, were irreparably scarred.
Six months Harry spent in a coma, healing spells and potions daily applied to and forced down his slowly, recovering body. The physical bruises disappeared; that the mental ones would was much less certain. In the end, it was Ginny Weasley who was finally successful in ascending into and pulling Harry from his dark pit and Dumbledore who gave Harry a pensieve into which he could dump the worst of his memories. Hermione could only imagine the thoughts that shallow basin contained.
After the destruction of Voldemort, Harry had spent nearly four years as a resident of St. Mungo's. Now, the wounded but still recovering hero was married to Ginny Weasley, a girl who had grown into a loving, patient, compassionate woman.
Harry was slowly returning to normal. Although he still suffered from the most unimaginable nightmares, even the frequency of those were becoming less and less. It had been a long time since Hermione had been to visit them, Ginny kept in touch though, mostly through her father and regular owl post. Hermione looked forward to those letters with melancholic furor.
Hermione turned her attention back to the conversation.
"No, my dear, what I am saying is that Voldemort had many loyal followers who may very well feel it is their obligation to continue his work. In that light, and given the current circumstances, I have requested that the Ministry provide additional support to ensure the security of the muggle-born students at Hogwarts."
"But Professor . . . ," Hermione interrupted, finally realizing the direction of Dumbledore's thoughts.
Dumbledore ignored the interruption as if it hadn't occurred. "The Minister has agreed but not without reservation. We feel that the placement of an Auror would cause undue concern among the school Governors, unchecked excitement among the students and call unwanted attention from outside organizations. We want someone who can perform her duties without calling remarkable attention to herself. Someone who can discreetly investigate this situation."
Hermione shook her head vigorously up and down realizing that his comment about outside organizations referred directly to sources of media like the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler.
"We need someone who is familiar with the school routine, someone who can participate in daily activities and functions, and interact knowledgably with the students both wizard and Muggle born. More importantly, we need someone who is discreet, trustworthy and will put the welfare of the students before any other concerns. It seems, my dear, that you are the logical choice for such a task."
Hermione sighed heavily, knowing she had little choice in the matter. Obviously, Dumbledore had made his decision.
"When would you like me to arrive, sir?" she asked.
"As soon as possible, tomorrow morning at the latest." Dumbledore replied.
"I will Floo into Hogsmeade tomorrow before breakfast." Hermione replied, her mind already flying to the myriad chores she had to accomplish before leaving in the morning. Somehow she felt as if there were something more Dumbledore needed to say.
"Is there anything else, sir?"
Surprisingly, Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a look of trepidation crossed his face. He stood abruptly and walked toward the doorway, reaching for the knob before making his exit. As if a thought suddenly occurred to him, he turned dramatically and sighed. Hermione waited on tenter hooks, if Dumbledore was choosing to tell her this way, she knew it wasn't going to be good.
"Yes, Ms. Granger, there is one more thing…" Dumbledore hesitated, as if the idea had suddenly popped into his head.
Hermione knew better, but waited expectantly.
"You will be serving as an assistant to Professor Snape in the Potions lab. That is the one area in which I could justify to the School Governor's the employment of an additional staff member. No one but you, Severus, the Minister and myself will know your true reason for being there. Let us hope it remains that way. Good day, Ms. Granger."
Hermione made no reply to his hasty farewell. She sat there in dumb silence, the shock of the situation pressing in on her. She sat there for a long time, fingertips pressed to her eyelids, coming to grips with the job she had to perform.
Totally unaware of what she was doing, she began stuffing the documents scattered upon her desk into a sturdy, leather portfolio. She stood, put on her jacket, and collected a tote bag into which she stuffed her handbag, the portfolio and several memos that, before Dumbledore's arrival, had been destined for the dustbin. The name Professor Snape echoed in her mind, while it tried to deny the truth of the situation. Walking down the corridor toward Auror Headquarters, Hermione paused to take a steadying breath before, once again, entering the chaos.