I'm so glad y'all caught onto the locket. Fun fact, that was one of the newest things I was about to write for the old version before I swapped to this version. This chapter is definitely not the last in terms of hiatus, but the next one is. Remember how I said the last chapter was cut in half? Apparently, it was a good thing because this chapter is another long one, and over 5k. I don't know when we will go back to the normal size chapters, but it's fine. Most of this just came from the book for Hermione's part.
Story is posted on Ao3 under Fire is Everywhere.
Chapter 29: Ministry of Magic
Tom waited eagerly for Harrison. He wanted the boy to pick up the diary and write his thoughts into the book. He found it fascinating that such an incredible amount of hate, obsession, and coldness can be bottled up in a eleven-year-old-boy, a first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The boy was interesting as it seemed that he only served one purpose in the world and that was to wreak havoc on the magical world and bring it to its former glory.
He enjoyed it when the boy would pick up the diary, and tell him something from either what happened during the day, or Harrison's questioning of the world. He quite enjoyed the time how Harrison wrote how satisfying it was to hear the screams of his older brother, and feeling the rush of power that he had felt when his older brother felt powerless against him. It really amused him and reminded how much he relished when he had his own body and tortured his followers.
Tom relished into those thoughts. The cold, bitter feelings that followed the boy. It was probably one of the main reasons why he hadn't felt the compulsory need to possess the boy, to drain the boy so that he, himself, can regain his body once more. He had the compulsory need to get to know the boy when he was like this as he didn't bother opening up his past.
The only thing that Tom knew was that he did not really have a childhood. Tom wasn't going to push Harrison into telling him what happened, as it wasn't his story to tell.
Tom's thoughts were interrupted when he felt that Harrison picked up the diary. The conversation started up normally until Harrison had asked a question that he certainly wasn't expecting whatsoever.
Is it possible that there is more than one object of the Dark Lord's? Harrison wrote.
Tom froze as he read the response. There was no way that the boy could have found another one of his Horcruxes already. The rest of the objects should have hidden away and under a lot of protection to the point where if a culprit managed to figure out the locations, there would be certain death that would follow. The only exception was the diary, but that was only because Lucious Malfoy was being too careless with one of his most prized possessions.
So Tom wrote back,
What do you mean?
Tom watched as the words faded into the paper. He waited anxiously for Harrison's response. It didn't take long as words formed on the paper.
You told me that you were a fragment of a memory of the Dark Lord. However, today, I felt a similar dark presence to the one this has, just very less appealing.
He frowned. This was certainly troubling. There shouldn't be any reason for an Horcrux to have been in the possession of another dark family. Unless something had changed and his older self had given another Horcrux to another family.
It's certainly possible. Are you staying with a dark family?
I'm staying over at the Blacks, Harrison wrote back.
Tom was confused. He had no knowledge of his older self ever giving a Horcrux to his Black family. But he was only the version of his sixteen-year-old self, and his older self had never really talked to himself in a while. The only thing he knew was that his older self had created other Horcruxes, if he really wanted to try and communicate with them, and his older self. Still the question remained what type of object Harrison sensed.
Are you sure it couldn't possibly be a dark object that belonged to the Black family?
It felt similar in how this object drew me, Harrison wrote back.
Tom knit his eyebrows together in confusion, as he was drawing a blank. There was no way the Blacks could have another Horcrux of his. All of his objects were under protection and into places that had shaped him when growing up. There was simply no explanation unless… Unless a certain Black turned traitorous and managed to grab one of it. Brown eyes narrowed in thought, glistening with murder.
…
Hermione got up around sunrise when the sun started to come over the hills. She could hear the sound of bacon crackling in a pan downstairs in the kitchen. She looked over at Ginny who was sprawled on her bed, her fiery red hair sprawled on her pillow, who was lightly snoring. It looked like she wasn't going to get up anytime soon, and Hermione had no reason to just lay there and do nothing until Ginny got up.
She let out a yawn and got up from her position on the floor. She changed into some black slacks and a red sweater, and headed downstairs, carefully watching her head as the roof was narrow in some places. She headed downstairs, hearing the flipping of the newspaper page, the sound of breakfast cooking and the radio of some singer that Mrs. Weasley loved listening to whenever she was in the kitchen.
She saw Mr. Weasley in striped blue and white pajamas with a matching cap, reading the newspaper, drinking a cup of coffee. She saw Mrs. Weasley hummed in the kitchen as she flipped the bacon, and put it on a plate, all the while she was using magic to stir the eggs.
"Morning Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Hermione greeted.
She pulled out a chair from the table and sat in it, and looked briefly at the headline article of the Daily Prophet which didn't seem that interesting.
"Morning Hermione," Mrs. Weasley greeted back, "How would you like your eggs?"
"Scrambled fine," She told Mrs. Weasley.
Mr. Weasley looked up from the Daily Prophet and asked,
"Are you sure you want to come with me to the Ministry of Magic, Hermione? It's okay to change your mind."
"I'm sure, Mr. Weasley," Hermine said without hesitance. "Besides, you don't really need to worry about me too much. I'll make sure I won't wander off and won't go anywhere where I'm not supposed to."
The lie sounded reasonable as it passed her lips and it clearly did the trick as Mr. Weasley let out a small chuckle.
"Make sure you don't," Mr. Weasley said, "The Ministry of Magic is a big place and there are some things that probably should not be seen, especially for someone as young as you."
That was the end of the conversation as Mrs. Weasley strolled into the room, carrying pans and pots and set it on the table. She waved her wand and set the table. She served the plates equally with eggs, biscuits covered in gravy, bacon and small pieces of cut up potatoes.
"Ron still hasn't got up yet," she said, shaking her head. "That boy needs to feed the chickens."
She let out a sigh and started heading upstairs. Hermione could hear footsteps coming up the stairs, the shouting of Mrs. Weasley's voice is telling her children to get up and knock on doors. The response was a little muted, but Hermione paid no attention.
"I thought we might take the visitor's entrance," Mr. Weasley suggested. "Make sure that no one frowns at why there is a visitor at the ministry."
"That's fine, Mr. Weasley," she said with a smile.
Multiple steps of footsteps were heard, making their way downstairs. First came, Ron, Ginny, Percy and than Mrs. Weasley. They all sat at the table and started eating. She stared in disgust as Ronald inhaled his bacon and his breakfast and already had seconds within a couple of minutes.
Eventually, breakfast was over. The Weasley kids started doing their chores like weeding out the garden, catching the gnomes or feeding the chickens. Hermione and Mr. Weasley finished getting ready to head to the ministry and soon they apparated into an empty alleyway on a dingy street.
It was clear that this section looked very well-down, but the one thing that stood out as a broken-down, red telephone box. Mr. Weasley entered first with Hermione standing right behind him, feeling a little cramp from the lack of space. She briefly wondered how the broken down telephone box was related to the ministry of magic, but that answered her question when Mr. Weasley started dialing 6-2-4-4-2.
A ding was heard inside the red telephone box and than a woman's voice was heard,
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
Hermione watched as Mr. Weasley suddenly looked very less unsure of himself, and stood awkwardly as he stared at the receiver. She was about to help him, but he managed to hold the mouthpiece to his ear and said,
"Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and Hermione Granger, a visitor."
"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."
The sound of a click and a rattle was heard, and a silver badge came out of the metal chute. Mr. Weasley handed it to her and she pinned it to the front of her sweater, the name Hermione Granger, Visitor written on the badge.
The female voice spoke once more, "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."
The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking, slowly into the ground. Pavement rose up past the glass windows, and darkness was seen. Eventually, light returned and illuminated their feet first, then their bodies until it hit her in the face. Hermione had to blink rapidly from the amount of light that was sudden.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.
The door of the telephone box sprang open and they stepped out of the box. They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.
Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.
"This way," said Mr. Weasley.
They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment,others battered briefcases, still others reading the Daily Prophet as they walked. Small knuts glistened from the bottom of the water fountain, and next to it was a sign that was smudged.
She read it as they passed it: All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Hermione was almost tempted to give them a donation after what Saeviour told her of his entire ordeal, and they fixed him right up. They were worth it.
Hermione didn't had much time to think as she tried to keep up with Mr. Weasley's footsteps as they finally stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates, toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying security. A badly shaven wizard in dark blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.
"I'm escorting a visitor," said Mr. Weasley.
"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice.
Hermione walked closer to the wizard, and he held up a long goldenrod, thin and flexible and passed it up and down Hermione's front and back.
"Wand," grunted the security wizard, holding out his hand.
Hermione pulled out her wand from her pocket, and the wizard dropped it on a strange brass instrument that looked almost like scales, but not quite. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.
"Ten and a half inches, dragon heartstring core, has been in use for nine months. That correct?"
"Yes," Hermione said.
"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back," he added, thrusting the wand at Hermione.
"Thank you," She said.
Hermione pocketed her wand and followed Mr. Weasley into the stream wizards and witches walking through the golden gates and into the smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. Hermione and Mr. Weasley joined the crowd around one of them.
A lift descended in front of them, with jangling and clattering coming from it. The golden grille slid black, and Hermione and Mrs. Weasley moved inside of it, along with the rest of the crowd. She found herself against the back corner of the lift as the grilles slid shut and the lift ascended slowly, with chains rattling.
The grilles slid shut with a crash and the same female voice was heard once again,
"Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."
The lift doors opened and Hermione managed to get a small glimpse into an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls. A wizard got out of the lift and disappeared within the corridors.
Once more, the doors closed and the lift juddered upward again, and the woman's voice said, "Level six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center."
The lift doors opened and several witches and wizards stepped out as several airplanes swooped into the list, all of them a shade of pale violet color and had the ministry of magic stamped on the edges of the lift.
"Just Interdepartmental memos," Mr. Weasley whispered. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable . . . droppings all over the desks . . ."
The memos flapped around the lamp in the lift's ceiling, as they clattered upwards again to reveal another floor,
"Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."
The doors opened with memos zooming out along with a few witches and wizards. Several more memos zoomed in. The light flickered and flashed as the memos darted around it.
"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."
No one got out on the floor and once more the doors clanged shut again.
"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."
Everybody left the lift on this floor, besides a couple of people. Hermione was starting to get anxious as she waited for what the next floors would bring her as the only reason she was tagging along was because she desperately needed to talk to Madam Bones.
"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."
Mr. Weasley stepped out of the lift and into a corridor lined with doors.
"My office is on the other side of the floor," Mr. Weasley told her.
They passed by a window where rain was noticeable, even though they were clearly underground. Magic never truly ceased to amaze her.
Hermione followed Mr. Weasley as they turned a corner, walking through a pair of heavy oak doors, and emerged in a cluttered, open area divided into cubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read auror headquarters.
Hermione looked through the cubicles. The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favorite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. Aurors looked over reports with quills in their hands and talked to the other aurors.
Mr. Weasley didn't really bother to stop and chat with the aurors too much, but one of the aurors- dark skinned, and brown eyes gave Mr. Weasley a stack of papers.
"A report about teapots attacking muggles," he said.
"Thank you," Mr. Weasley said, taking the stack of parchments with him.
They continue to head through a second set of oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor, and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading misuse of muggle artifacts.
Mr. Weasley's office was smaller than a broom cupboard. Two desks had been crammed inside it and there was barely room to move around them because of all the overflowing filing cabinets lining the walls, on top of which were tottering piles of files. The little wall space available bore witness to Mr. Weasley's obsessions; there were several posters of cars, including one of a dismantled engine, two illustrations of postboxes he seemed to have cut out of Muggle children's books, and a diagram showing how to wire a plug. Sitting on top of Mr. Weasley's overflowing in-tray was an old television set that was currently vibrating on the desk, and teacups that were currently twirling. A photograph of the Weasley family stood beside the in-tray.
"We haven't got a window," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, taking off his bomber jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. "We've asked, but they don't seem to think we need one. Have a seat." Mr. Weasley beckoned Hermione to sit at a chair in the cramped room and she did.
Mr. Weasley's partner, Mr. Perkins showed up a couple of minutes later. He didn't really bother talking too much as he sorted through a stack of parchments on his desk, and wrote notes. She corrected Mr. Weasley a couple of times and asked her questions about what objects these were, things like that.
Hermione didn't mind it, but eventually she was getting antsy and she wanted to go find Madam Bones. She crafted a plan in her head and she hoped that Mr. Weasley wouldn't notice her extended leave of absence too much.
There was only one way to test it.
"Mr. Weasley, I'm going to be right back," she said, getting up from the chair. "I'm going to use the loo."
Mr. Weasley only nodded and kept his head down, sorting through reports, about various incidents involving muggle items.
Hermione headed out of Mr. Weasley's office, remembering how she got to Mr. Weasley's office and retraced her footsteps. She was about to step out of the auror headquarters when she realized she had no idea where Madam Bones office was at.
"Excuse me," She said, asking an auror.
They looked at her like she was interrupting something important as they were just standing against a cubicle, talking to another auror.
"What is it?" They asked in a snippy kind of voice.
"Can you show me to Madam Bones's office? I have urgent business to discuss with her," She told her.
The auror rolled their eyes and begrudgingly took Hermione to Madam Bones's office. Apparently, her office was a couple of turns away from auror headquarters and Mr. Weasley's office. The auror walked away, heading back to the auror headquarters.
Hermione took a deep breath before she knocked on the oak door, and stood there, hoping that Madam Bones was in her office. If not, she had no idea what she was going to do.
It seemed like she was in luck when she heard a voice come through the other side of the door,
"Come in."
Hermione opened the door to see Madam Bones sitting at her desk, looking at several reports. She had her hair pulled in a bun, and wore black robes. She looked over her shoulder to see Hermione standing in the doorway.
"What is it?" She asked.
Madam Bones stacked the papers and put them in the corner of her desk.
"Have a seat." She beckoned Hermione to take a seat across from her, which she did.
"What do you need?" Madam Bones asked again.
"It's about Elladora Lestrange," Hermione started.
"What about her?" Madam Bones asked in a neutral voice.
"I want to know why you won't reopen her case, when it is unfair," Hermione pressed.
She watched Madam Bones' face for a reaction. She was stoic, and watched as the look for recognition dawned on her face. She hoped it was because of the fact that Hermione wrote her a letter back in January.
"Are you the same person who wrote to me about the possibility of a trial for her?"
Hermione nodded, "It's the reason why I came here today."
"Miss Granger, as I have already told you before- I'm not seeking to reopen her case. It's one thing if she was sent to Azkaban and she was innocent. However, she did kill muggles and she is considered a threat to the magical world."
"But Madam Bones, she was three," Hermione pointed out. "She was only protecting herself against the muggles who were cleansing her. They were the same muggles that abused her."
"It was one of the reasons I thought about when I looked over her case, however," Madam Bones continued, "The fact that there was visible evidence and eyewitness accounts from muggles who were there. It was a headache for many of the aurors who had to clean up the mess."
"It was self-defense," Hermione argued, her voice rising slightly. "She was displaying magic because she felt unsafe. Instead of taking her away, and putting her to a magical family that could have helped her. She was punished and taken to Azkaban, where criminals are at… Isn't that hypocritical of the magical world?"
Madam Bones remained silent, startled by the fact that Hermione was arguing with the head of the department of magical law enforcement.
"Madam Bones. I'm a muggleborn, that means I come from a non magical background. I had bouts of accidental magic when I was growing up, trying to protect myself from bullies at times. I have never once seen a letter or anyone from the ministry, claiming I was dangerous to society and I should be locked up in Azkaban, of all places."
"Miss Granger," Madam Bones said, "Your case and hers are totally different."
"It's still the same thing, almost. I didn't kill muggles, but she did. And yet, you guys have a history of sending children- children to prison, because they didn't fit in the mold that you wanted them in. You put a six year old child without a trial based on evidence that he did it.
"The ex-Potter boy's case was different, and we eventually released him based on the fact that new evidence came to light."
"Madam Bones, Elladora Lestrange was removed from her home by Albus Dumbledore and put into that orphanage. This could have been prevented if Albus Dumbledore simply put her with her relatives that she had… Which makes no sense on its own."
Hermione went silent for a few minutes, as something clicked. It made no sense why Albus Dumbledore put her in the orphanage. He couldn't have been at complete fault. There had to be something more to the story that she was missing.
"Who was the one who pushed Elladora Lestrange to Azkaban?" Hermione asked.
Madam Bones responded after much thought, "Millicent Bagnold, Barty Crouch and Albus Dumbledore who pushed for some type of punishment for her."
"Madam Bones, is it possible that Albus Dumbledore could have been the ringleader in all of this? Maybe he wanted the child out of the way, and thought it wouldn't look good for a child who killed muggles to be free?"
"Miss Granger, you're not saying that Albus Dumbledore is the one who is behind this, are you?" Madam Bones accused.
"No. I'm just trying to draw a conclusion on why Elladora Lestrange had no trial and went straight to jail," Hermione told her.
"You are very persistent for a young witch," Madam Bones said. "Look, I'm not going to say she will be let out, but I will push for a trial for the Wizengamot to decide what to do with her fate, in case someone might actually be at fault for this."
Hermione smiled.
"Really? Thank you so much for hearing that out, Madam Bones."
"Miss Granger, do not let anybody know until it is official," she warned. "I don't want word getting out about this."
"I won't."
…
Multiple books lined the table, with the sound of pages being turned every couple of minutes. Two figures sat in the Black family library, hunched over, with looks of concentration on their faces. Sirius and Harrison were still trying to find something about a ritual to use the elixir of life in a book.
Sirius looked up from the book from what he was reading, his hair pinned back in a man-bun, and sad in a rather impatient tone.
"Have you found anything?"
"Nothing yet," Harrison said.
"Ugh… This is hopeless," Sirius said.
He snapped a book shut with a thud and placed it into the stack of books that they had looked at, but contained nothing about the elixir of life or how to get the Philosopher's stone to the elixir of life.
"Out of all these books, there is nothing that is mentioned about the elixir of life," Sirius sighed. "What good is our extensive collection of books if it contains nothing that we need?"
Harrison didn't bother to respond. He wasn't really listening as he couldn't keep his thoughts away from the object that he felt in the drawing room. It plagued his thoughts day and night, but Harrison still really hadn't a chance to sneak into the drawing room, and figure out what that said object was. They had spent the last couple of days looking over ancient scrolls and books that could have possibly contained the potion or the ingredients mentioned. They spent most of the days and evenings until the sun was replaced by the dark sky, obsessed with trying to find it.
Sirius got up from the chair and headed towards a section of the library. Harrison watched him briefly, his green eyes watching his movement before he summoned the diary.
The black diary laid flat on the book that was opened. He grabbed a quill from inside and started writing in it. Maybe Tom would know the answer. He doubted it, but at the same time, they were at a loss, and was tired of looking through almost the same books that had almost similar contents.
Do you know anything about the recipe for the elixir of life? Harrison wrote.
He watched as the ink bled into the pages, and the answer came suddenly. It didn't surprise Harrison one bit, he kinda figured but he still had to try.
No.
Harrison sighed. He heard footsteps coming back and Harrison banished the diary. Sirius came by, carrying a stack of books, and scrolls.
"Hey, SIrius?" Harrison asked once Sirius set the books and scrolls down on the table.
"Hmm?"
"Why don't we ask Lord Malfoy and see if they have something? Lord Malfoy is probably bound to know something," Harrison suggested.
"That's a good idea," Sirius said, after a couple of seconds of silence.
Sirius and Harrison stopped what they were doing and headed towards the nearest fireplace. They grabbed a handful of floo powder and went up in green flames as they swirled around until their feet met the soft carpet.
"Oh Lucy!" Sirius cried out.
Sirius sounded like a child, and Harrison watched as Sirius wandered through the corridors of Malfoy Manor until they entered the drawing room, without knocking first. Harrison's eye twitched as the disrespect, but he didn't want to say anything as the older blonde was sitting at his desk, reading over something.
"What is it, Black?" Lord Malfoy said. "Must you call me by that childish name?"
"You know I have to," Sirius said.
"You really don't," Lord Malfoy said in a cold tone, "Now, seriously… What do you want, Black."
"Can't I just say hi?" Sirius said.
Harrison watched the two go back and forth, with great amusement. He had a small smile on his face.
"Typically, Black. When you show up here, uninvited… It's because you have some interesting news or you want something," Lucius pointed out.
"You caught me," Sirius sighed, "Do you know anything about the elixir of life?"
Lucius's face blanked, "No I don't, besides the fact that it's supposed to give the drinker immortality."
Sirius sighed in disappointment.
Sirius was about to turn to leave before Lucious said something,
"Have you two seen this?" Lucius said, holding up a piece of parchment.
Both of them shook their heads no, and headed closer to look at the piece of parchment that was in Lucius's hand. Harrison read it and a large smile blossomed on his face.
It looked like the mudblood did something right.