Auror Wing, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic
A junior Auror ducked away, white faced, as Cedric Diggory stormed through the DMLE cubicles. Without knocking, he slammed the door to his partner's office open.
"Cedric." Hermione greeted pleasantly, not looking up from her paperwork.
"What the fuck?" Cedric demanded.
"What the fuck, sir, please, Diggory." Hermione deadpanned. "If you're going to disrespect a superior officer, at least do it formally."
"Fuck you in advance, sir." Cedric continued, unperturbed. "Harry Potter. You greet THE Harry Potter and you don't even think to tell me?"
"Why Cedric," Hermione closed the door to her office with a flick of her wand. "I had no idea you were a fan."
"Are you kidding?" Cedric exclaimed. "The Wizarding World's most eligible bachelor within my reach and I miss the opportunity! I'll never forgive you for this. How am I supposed to get him to fall desperately in love with me if I never meet him?"
"I'm sure a love as profound and destined as yours will win out in the end." Hermione quirked a crooked grin.
"What was he like?" Cedric demanded.
Hermione paused, tilting her head consideringly.
"Strange." She decided. "He wasn't what I was expecting. Until he was."
"That's the Potter effect right there." Cedric shook his head somberly. "Has even you flustered. I've heard it's incurable."
"I'm sure I'll be alright." She levelled a stare at him as he leaned against the door. "You're not getting a copy of the memory."
"I'll do coffee runs for a month."
"Lunch runs too, and take out if we have to shack up for late nights."
"Deal."
Hermione jumped as the door burst open again.
She Sighed. "Doesn't anyone knock anymore?"
"No time." Christopher Fairview was one of the few Aurors on the force Hermione trusted. "Minister's here. Courtroom Six. Tribunal."
Hermione leapt up from her desk, face growing pale as she moved to follow after the red-haired Auror.
"Senior Aurors only I'm afraid, Diggory." Fairview preemptively replied as Cedric waved him off.
"How long?" Hermione asked.
"Only just arrived. Saw him in the Atrium as I was coming back from lunch. Came to call you as soon as I heard the call."
They wound down the dark stone staircase leading to the court chambers. Relief made Hermione's head spin as she saw a number of Aurors slowly meandering into the courtroom. Taking a moment to catch her breath, Hermione forced herself not to rush as she too entered Courtroom Six, noting the hushed conversation filling the room. Notably, The Minister for Magic was nowhere to be seen.
"All rise." Chief Auror Gawain Robards called. The courtroom echoed with rustling robes, like the thunder of a waterfall, as the senior Aurors stood.
Complete silence gripped the assembled Aurors as Minister Rufus Scrimgeour glided into the room. His black robes fell to the floor, dragging on the polished black tiles. Transparent tubes ran from behind the porcelain mask that covered the Minister's jaw. Hermione knew, from the redacted reports, that underneath the robes, the minister's legs ended in stumps, and underneath the mask, only half of the minister's bottom jaw remained. Where once a wild mane of hair dominated Scrimgeour's head, only thin strands remained, falling limply from the mangled flesh of his scalp.
A dragging, guttural rasp grated through the silence as the Minister applied a sonorous charm.
"Be seated." The Minister's charmed voice rumbled, clear of the strain of his breathing. "Death has not caught me. Your Ministry remains strong."
A rustle of cloaks temporarily overwhelmed the grating rasp.
"Avius Ostium." Scrimgeour waved his ebony wand in a slow, deliberate arc. The room thundered as the doors to the room slowly disappeared.
A burst of hushed conversation spilled through the room. Until the Minister himself undid the wards, no one could enter, nor leave the room.
"The Ministry calls to the floor, William Edward Pinescrew." Scrimgeour's enchanted voice intoned.
Pinescrew paled as he unsteadily got to his feet, his footsteps resounding in the stunned silence as he made his way down to the podium.
"Minister?" Pinescrew questioned. "What is it you need?"
"The Director shall treat the proceedings as the disciplinary tribunal it is." The Minister rumbled. From the wings, four red masked Watchforce Aurors appeared, identical black wands levelled at Pinescrew. "The Director shall surrender his wand."
Pinescrew's hand shook as he placed his wand in the grasp of one of the awaiting Watchmen.
"The Director stands accused of High Treason," Scrimgeour's words slashed through the crowd, lacerating the spectators with shock. "Against the Department of Magical Law enforcement, against the Ministry of Magic, and against the People of Magical Britain. How does he plead?"
"Not Guilty!" Pinescrew squeaked immediately.
"The Director's plea is noted." Scrimgeour rumbled. "Prosecuting will be Chief Auror Gawain George Robards. Does the Director wish to nominate a champion for his defence?"
"I- uh," Pinescrew stammered, then swallowed. "No."
"The Ministry will now hear from the prosecution." Scrimgeour settled into a high chair at the end of the room as Auror Robards came forward. He spoke clearly and quickly.
"After the disappearance of former Director Amelia Bones in 1996, Director Pinescrew was elected as temporary director, and after the three month grace period, took the position formally. In his nine year tenure, two hundred and fifty-eight Death Eater arrests have been made."
A murmur of surprised approval travelled through the room.
"Less than a hundred of these arrests," Robard cut off the clamour. "Ended with punitive measures being levelled."
The murmurs turned confused.
"Less than thirty with time in Azkaban," Robards allowed the voices to rise. "Only three of these remain in Azkaban to date."
Light from Scrimgeour's wand exploded in a thunderclap, silencing the enraged shouts.
"What says the Director in his defence?" Scrimgeour rumbled.
"There is no proof!" Pinescrew raised his voice to be heard above the shouts. "No proof that I am at fault for this! How can one man be blamed for the shortcomings of our entire system?"
"In seventy-three cases," Robards had no need to raise his voice, as every person present hung on his words. "The Director personally intervened to prevent punitive measures from being taken. In every single case, the Director intervened to have punitive measures reduced. Further, the Director personally intervened to ensure the emancipation of the incarcerated, before reasonable sentence had been served."
"Does the defence have anything more to add?"
"Not at this time." Pinescrew bit out. "Let's get this… this Witch Hunt over with!"
"The Prosecution may present the next item of order."
"This morning," Robards began with a respectful nod. "At approximately two-thirty AM, an unknown force broke into the Ministry of Magic."
As Auror Robards spoke, smoke swirled in the room to resemble the creature Hermione saw from the memory.
"The creature entered the Department of Mysteries," Robards continued. "Bypassing any and all security measures and wards."
Curiosity rumbled through the assembled Aurors.
"The Prosecution calls Senior Auror Hermione Jean Granger."
"Auror Granger," Robards began. "You were the principal Law Enforcement Officer on the scene of the event, yes?"
"That is correct." Hermione spoke clearly and evenly, desperate for her voice not to shake.
"Further, you were the Auror to present evidence of the break in to Director Pinescrew?"
"Correct."
"Can you recount the events leading up to speaking with the director?" Robards asked, remaining quiet while Hermione told the tale of her visit to the Department of Mysteries and her encounter with the Director. "Did the Director indicate the receiver of the Floo call?"
"He did Director seemed uniquely affected by the events in the memory. I assumed it was important."
"Thank you for your time Auror Granger." Robards nodded as Hermione resumed her seat. "The Director has erased the source of his Floo call from his office wards. Though we can confirm that no Ministry Floo channels were used."
"Does the Defence have any clarification to provide?"
"It was a personal call to a family friend." Pinescrew sagged with relief.
"Director Pinescrew," Robards asked, voice cold. "Would you consent to rolling up your left sleeve?"
Reluctantly, Pinescrew did so, revealing pale skin. Before he could react, two of the Watchmen physically restrained him.
"What is the meaning of this!?" Pinescrew cried as he struggled.
"There is a method to hide protean charms." Robards explained, touching his wand to Pinescrew's arm. The Director howled in pain as his skin cracked and split as if cut. The lacerations bled together, revealing the well known symbol of a snake-mouthed skull.
Outrage dominated the chamber. Scrimgeour had to silence the amphitheatre to be heard above the roar.
"Defence, do you have anything to say in justification?"
"The Dark Lord shall absolve me." Pinescrew murmured, still in pain. "You do not realise how meaningless this is."
"Honourable members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Scrimgeour bellowed. "On the charge of High Treason, do you find the defendant guilty?"
The vote was cast. An overwhelming majority of wands shone with light.
"William Edward Pinescrew." The Minister continued more quietly. "You are hereby stripped of rank and station. You will be transported to the maximum security detainment cells and remain there until sentence is rendered."
Pinescrew held on to some dignity, walking ahead of the Watchmen escort instead of being dragged along.
"Court adjourned." The Minister said, the guttural rasp of his breathing cutting out as he disabled the sonorous charm.
"Mental." Fairview breathed as they milled out into the hall. "Looks like Robards got tired of being Chief Auror and started aiming right for the Director's chair."
"If so," Hermione sighed, her magical eye picking out all the glares aimed at Robards' back. "He just made the single biggest mistake of his political career. Death Eaters have friends in high places, friends who tend to not look kindly on their own being outed."
Sirius entered the Potter Manor second bedroom to find a frustratingly empty bed. He sighed, nudging the door closed with his walnut cane. His footsteps echoed stonily, bouncing from the gilded pillars of the manor, resounding on the glass domes. He pulled the lever hidden in the lamp, and entered the space beyond the bookshelf. In stark contrast to the rest of the manor, Harry's secret sanctum was cramped and stuffy. Piles of books and notes were stacked on the floor and corners of the room, while a large workbench, cluttered with shavings and twigs and all manner of fine metals, dominated the space, leaving little room to move around its edges.
"I will never understand why you insist on the second bedroom." Sirius said, summoning a tray adorned with vials, setting it down on the counter near Harry.
"You know why." Harry said, not looking up from where he was carefully carving runes into a golden ring.
"You don't want to sleep in your parents' room." Sirius nodded. "But considering how little sleeping you do, one would think it wouldn't matter in which room you don't spend the night."
"Take you long to think up that one?" Harry deadpanned, swearing as the ring cracked. With a sigh of frustration he hurtled the shattered metal into the far wall. Without a word he swallowed the offered vials' contents in quick succession. He shuddered as the last one went down. "Did you really have to make the pepper up with Grey Thistle?"
"No." Sirius admitted. "Though perhaps the taste could be a motivator to stop taking potions as a supplement for actual rest."
"How long do I have?" Harry asked, already undressing as he left the workshop.
"Around ten minutes." Sirius handed Harry a pressed dress shirt as they walked. Nipsy popped in and handed Sirius a pair of black socks. The elf popped away reappearing a moment later, holding two tailed coats. "The Burgundy I think. Thank you Nipsy. Unless you want to be fashionably late. In which case you have twenty three minutes."
Harry pushed his arms through the velvet lining of the coat, kicking off his trousers as he went. In a moment, Nipsy reappeared, handing Harry a pair of sleek, black slims. At the fireplace, Harry stepped into a pair of dark ballroom shoes.
"Time?" Harry asked as he snapped on a pair of gold framed spectacles.
"Punctium." Sirius lifted his left hand. "One Minute, twenty seven seconds. Personal best."
"Nipsy?" Harry called, causing the elf to appear in front of him, standing stiff as a board. "Extra cakes tonight. You did very well."
The elf nodded vigorously, vanishing once again.
"You really think the red is the way to go?" Harry asked, regarding himself in the mirror above the mantlepiece.
"Burgundy." Sirius corrected. "As eye catching as the rest of your wardrobe is, tonight is a somewhat sombre occasion. And your castellon green might give the wrong idea regarding your standing on the current state of affairs."
"Fair enough." Harry allowed, crossing his arms as he waited for the timer spell to tick down.
"Something on your mind?" Sirius poked.
"The levitation charms." Harry sighed. "I can't understand what I'm doing wrong. I've followed the instructions down to the letter. I've had more luck with wandcraft."
"You can't be perfect at everything." Sirius placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Besides, that Nimbus you recreated worked brilliant. Even though it crashed."
"You crashed it, you mean." Harry smiled.
"I can't help the fact I'm not a lefty." Sirius wiggled the fingers on his remaining hand. "Maybe you should go over the basics again?"
"Yeah." Harry sighed. "I'll scrap the shaft and brush when I get back tonight. Start fresh. Try the Black Oak again."
"You know what I think it needs?" Sirius coaxed.
"What?"
"Racing stripes. Can't have a racing broom without racing stripes."
"Really?"
"It's in the name, isn't it?" Sirius grinned, just as a soft chime cut the silence.
"See you on the other side." Harry said, stepping into the fireplace. "Argent Lakes."
A wall of sound enveloped Harry as he caught himself on the polished tiles of a spacious ballroom.
"Mr Potter."
"Auror Granger." Harry gave his most dazzling smile. "I wouldn't have thought this kind of occasion to your taste."
"It isn't." Neville Longbottom said conspiratorially from Hermione's side. "I just didn't want to suffer through it alone. Neville Longbottom."
"Pleasure to meet you." Harry shook the offered hand. "Sirius has told me a lot about your parents."
"Sirius Black?" Neville wondered, covering a flash of pain. "I never knew. My grandmother, well, she didn't tell me much about them, outside of all the ways I failed to live up to them."
"She sounds delightful." Harry quirked an eyebrow.
"Oh she was, back in her day." Sirius slung an arm around Neville's shoulders. "Hips like a sawmill! Face like a battleaxe!"
"Should that not be checked in, Mr Black?" Hermione said softly, running a finger along the cane.
"You would deprive a weary old man his walking stick?" Sirius gasped. "You truly are as cruel as they say…"
"Interesting date you brought, Potter." Neville grinned.
"He couldn't afford me." Sirius winked.
"Besides," Hermione smiled crookedly. "Wouldn't do for Magical Britain's most eligible bachelor to be seen with an escort."
"Second most eligible." Sirius insisted.
"Well as delightful as this conversation is," Harry laughed. "I'm going to go rub elbows with the rich and powerful. See you later Neville, Auror Granger. Keep out of trouble, Sirius."
"Trouble?" Sirius feigned hurt. "Me? The audacity of young people!"
"Mr Potter, Romilda Vane, Witch Weekly." A buxom brunette inserted herself in Harry's path. "Is it true about you and Miss Delacour?"
"Wouldn't want to break any hearts." Harry gave a wink and a grin. "Excuse me please."
Tom Riddle watched the tide of the crowd for a moment, studying its ebb and flow. Potter was laughing loudly, surrounded by hangers on. He would wait a while longer. Albus was speaking to Lucius Malfoy, who was doing a remarkable job pretending he didn't despise the old man, while young Draco spoke politely with Theodore Nott Jr.
Thirteen years subtly guiding the minds of Hogwarts students have made a profound effect. Draco Malfoy was one of his proudest achievements. The pinnacle Slytherin cunning, yet none of the crass rudeness Severus had unknowingly inspired. Hogwarts had changed much in his years as professor. Inter house rivalries were much more playful, and it was a common occurrence to see groups of students from the different houses together.
"Heir Malfoy, Mr Nott." He nodded respectfully. "How have you been?"
Nott sneered and walked away, while Draco merely watched him go.
"He doesn't care for me much." Tom noted.
"It's the name." Draco sighed. "Despite your maternal heritage, professor, he cannot see past your muggle blood."
"Draco," Tom chided fondly. "I am no longer your teacher. You need not call me professor."
"I may no longer be in school," Draco allowed. "But I am still your student. I still use what you taught me each day."
"You flatter me." Tom laughed, relishing in the reverence the boy showed. "How is Astoria?"
"She is…" Draco paused. "As well as can be expected."
"She's healed?" Tom frowned, concern painted on his features.
"Physically, yes." Draco said quietly. "The emotional wounds, however, are another matter. She was devastated to lose the child."
They watched a young woman, dark of hair, laugh brightly in the company of a few friends of friends.
"Well, well, well!" A proud voice called. "Who do we have here?"
"Mr Potter," Tom put on his very best smile. "Our new celebrity. Tom Riddle, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"I'm sure it is." Harry smiled widely. "Draco! I haven't seen you since, what, Ministry Yule of '87?"
"Oh but I have seen you." Draco quirked a smile. "Witch Weekly, Sorceress Supreme, Warlock's Bliss…"
"The swimwear cover." Potter laughed. "That was a lot of fun. Viktor Krum has a remarkably sharp wit."
"I'm surprised you managed to get him talking." Draco admitted. "I met him at the '94 world cup, and I couldn't get a word out of him one way or another."
"I reckon the scanty trunks helped." Harry grinned. "Really does make modesty seem secondary."
"I can imagine." Tom smirked, hiding his annoyance at being ignored.
"Sorry, got caught up catching up." Harry smiled. "Mr?"
"Tom Riddle." Tom repeated. "Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."
"Got any idea who'll replace you next year?" Harry joked.
"Actually," Draco broke in with a frown aimed squarely at Harry. "Professor Riddle has been teaching DADA for the past eleven years."
"Really?" Harry laced his voice with surprise and respect. "I thought the post was cursed by…"
"Yes." Riddle smirked, finally feeling a hook find flesh. "A simple curse really. Rudimentary affliction of misfortune, tied to the dragon skeleton in the classroom. Found it while conducting my interview."
"Sure you're not overqualified to be teaching at Hogwarts?" Harry smiled.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
Harry turned to find a dark haired woman with her arms crossed playfully.
"Astoria?" He smiled. "Wow. You've grown. Last I saw you, you didn't have teeth yet."
"Keep badmouthing Hogwarts and you won't have any teeth left, mister." She groused as she hugged him in greeting, standing on her toes to reach. "How have you been, Harry?"
"Kept busy." Harry winked. "With one thing or another. You?"
"Ever the lecher, Potter." She laughed. "Believe it or not, work has kept me from doing much else."
"That's because you work double shifts." Draco mumbled into his glass.
"People need help, Draco." Astoria chided. "I have the ability to help, so I'm going to help."
"Besides," Tom interjected. "It's not exactly her fault St Mungo's is as understaffed as it is."
"Move aside." A raggedly dressed, red-headed man spat, shoving Harry out of the way as he made his way from the hall.
"Weasly." Draco noted sourly. "What's got him in such a rush, I wonder?"
"Looks like something's happening." Harry motioned to the end of the hall, where the assembled witches and wizards parted. Harry's eyebrows lifted. "What is that?"
Hem of his robe trailing the ground, the Minister tilted his head in greeting as he moved through the crowd.
"That," Tom said conspiratorially. "Is Rufus Scrimgeour. Our Minister for Magic."
"He looks like he's wrestled with a lawn mower…" Harry turned his nose up dramatically as Astoria smacked his arm in mock scorn.
"Do you think you'd look better after surviving over a dozen attempts on your life?" Draco's voice was fraught with obvious respect. "Curses, assaults, basilisk venom to the face…"
"Bloody hell…" Harry breathed, not needing to feign admiration.
A chime resounded through the hall, and every eye that wasn't already fixed on him turned to the Minister.
"Honoured Guests…" The words seemed quiet against the gravel scrape of the Minister's breathing. "Your presence here, above all else, is a testament to the strength of Britain and her people."
An appreciative murmur went up among the onlookers. A troop of wait staff dispersed throughout the crowd, handing out glasses of champagne. A young man with horn rimmed spectacles and strikingly red hair whispered in the Minister's ear while handing him a small vial and a crystal glass.
"To your health." The Minister's voice rumbled as he lifted the vial, containing a thick, silvery potion, in a three fingered hand, and downed it in one swig. "Far be it from me to pretend a prime constitution."
An uneven laugh meandered through the spectators.
"As I was saying, tonight, is our annual lament," The minister paused, sending a rough cough echoing through the chamber. "Our annual lament, for the loss of one of Britain's cherished sons, Remus John Lupin."
This time the murmur was mournful, cut off by another discordant cough.
"Sixteen years ago to the day," The Minister continued, unperturbed. "Remus, who I considered a dear friend, was torn to shreds in his home by the very people he campaigned acceptance for. On that day we swore, never again. In recent years, a more severe disease than Lycanthropy has infected Magical Britain."
Draco noticed Harry tense, nearly imperceptibly.
"A disease of the mind." The Minister's enchanted voice growled. "We have always had to contend with dissent from the bigots and lunatics, Dark Wizards, who would rather see our proud society burn than share it with those they deem lesser."
Silence gripped the hall like a vice.
"And the worst of these," The Minister hacked. "These Death Eaters… No potion can cure their ailment. No spell can reverse their blight upon our soil. Only together can we see them struck from our culture like the rotten infection they are. And in the spirit of that sentiment, I am proud to rectify an egregious lapse in judgement, perpetrated by the Ministry over a decade ago, and proudly welcome back, Lord Sirius Arcturus Black, and Britain's Golden Son, Lord Harry James Potter."
Harry lifted his glass, smiling and winking. Harry watched a portly man drink deeply from his champagne.
"To a stronger Britain." The Minister swore, moving aside his mask to pour his champagne down his gaping throat.
As the assembled wizards and witches drank in toast, a piercing scream cut through the hall. Harry spun around, noting the portly man, red faced and clutching his throat. The man dug deep, bloody tracts in the skin of his neck with his fingernails as he began frothing at the mouth.
Harry watched in horror as more guests began crying out, falling to their knees, writhing in agony. The red-headed man by the Minister's side toppled, landing face down on the marble steps.
The room erupted in uncontrolled chaos as more wizards and witches screamed, throwing their glasses to the floor. Harry searched the room, finding Sirius next to Auror Granger, pressing his cane to the side of a seizing Neville Longbottom.
"Potter!" Tom shouted, finally breaking Harry's stupor. He was sagging, foam spurting from between his clenched teeth. "Left… inside… pocket!"
Harry watched in horror as the dark haired man started convulsing, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. After a moment of shock, Harry dug around inside the man's jacket, pulling a rough, round stone from inside it. Harry shoved the Bezoar into Riddle's mouth, watching as the man's body went limp. After finding the man's heartbeat, and making sure he was breathing, Harry turned the older man to his side, making sure he couldn't swallow the Bezoar behind his clenched jaws.
Harry stood, taking in the wails and screams as people bent over their dying loved ones. Harry spun slowly, taking in the massacre, before landing on the Minister. He sagged, held in the air by his levitating robes, blood dripped from behind his mask onto the broken shards of his champagne glass at the hem of his robes.
Back in Potter Manor, Sirius hurtled a vase at the nearest wall, watching as it shattered.
"Where the hell are you going?!" Sirius yelled after Harry, already disappearing into the study. With another curse, Sirius stormed after him. "If you think for one bloody second that I'll stand by as you-"
He cut off as he entered the study. Harry's face was hidden behind a black mask like an owl's face, his eyes replaced by glowing white orbs.
"I need samples." Harry threw a black feathered cape around his shoulders, trailing an oily smoke.
"Samples?" Sirius exclaimed. "Harry, just stop for a moment and-"
"NO!" Harry bellowed, shoving past Sirius. "I can't just let this happen. I have to do something."
Sirius stammered, trying to think of anything that would stop his godson. Harry mantled the handrail, landing on the tiles of the Foyer soundlessly, before storming into the fireplace and disappearing in a flash of green flame.
Harry landed in a crouch, listening for a sign that his arrival was noted. Hurried footsteps approached. Harry silently rushed behind a marble pillar, watching as two Aurors entered the entryway.
"I could have sworn…" One said quietly, holding his wand to illuminate the dark room.
"I told you, didn't I?" The other Auror sneered, neither noticing the dimly glowing white eyes as they passed Harry's hiding place. "Who'd want to come here anyway? Place gives me the chills."
Harry crept into the ballroom, now devoid of light and silent as a crypt. He walked slowly, taking in every detail with his modified spectrespecs. As he went, he took samples of broken glass, casting preserving charms to keep what liquid still clung to the shards. Finally he reached the place where the Minister had died. As he crouched to collect three samples, he noted something strange. On the ground where the Minister's blood pooled was a silvery residue. Using his wand, he carefully sampled the smoking residue as well.
His head snapped up as a light entered the room. A tall, white haired Auror he did not recognise entered the room, methodically making his way over the floor, stopping periodically. Silent as a ghost, Harry retreated, hiding among the thick, hanging curtains. He watched the unknown Auror stop at the foot of the stairs, placing shards of glass into small, transparent vials, then mounting the stairs to sample from the Minister's glass.
Harry watched the Auror leave, stealing out from his cover once again. He stopped in the centre of the ballroom, careful to take in every a moment's pause, reflecting on the night's events, Harry left the scene, quiet as a shadow.
From behind a wall of enchanted glass, Hermione watched as the blue-robed healers cast spells on Neville's body, running their wands along his neck and chest with meticulous care. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
She did not blame herself. She knew very well that if it hadn't been for the anti-toxin potion she carried in her purse, Neville would be stone dead, not recovering in a hospital bed. Hermione blamed Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and the vile, corrupt system that spawned them. Seething in rage, she vowed to bring the ones responsible to justice, no matter the cost to herself and her career.
"He'll be alright."
Hermione started, so focussed on Neville she hadn't noticed Tom Riddle's approach.
"You should be resting." She snapped, voice harsher than she intended.
"So should you, arguably." He smiled fondly. "There's nothing to be done now. Not for you, not here."
Hermione's jaw worked as she tried not to shout.
"Let the healers do their job." Tom implored. "He's a wealthy pureblood with a seat on the Wizengamot. If nothing else, that should assure you that he'll receive the very best of care. I've heard they even have foreign toxicology experts Portkeying in."
Hermione sagged, letting her head land against the enchanted wall.
"I just don't know what to do." She admitted quietly.
"We all work through these kinds of things in our own ways." Tom soothed. "I can't speak for you of course, but I find keeping busy to help me."
Hermione slowly straightened, her eyes pinning the professor.
"Remind me again," She said quietly. "How it is you recovered so quickly?"
"Potter gave me a bezoar." Tom sighed. "I always keep one on hand. Call me paranoid but… my post doesn't inspire complacency. It counteracted the small dose of the poison I drank. If it wasn't for that, well…"
He watched Neville breath raggedly through the glass.
"Send your patronus to find me if there's any change." Hermione spun on her heel, striding from the room.
"The very moment." Tom promised.
In a flash of green, Hermione stumbled to a halt inside the dark entryway.
"Lumos." She lifted her wand ahead of her, and made for the ballroom.
"Oi!" One of the guards came around the corner. "Who goes there?"
Hermione levelled a glare at the man.
"Sorry, sir." He gulped, tipping his cap. "Didn't know it was you."
Hermione narrowed her eyes further, turning her head directly at the man, inadvertently causing the mangled scars on her face to eerily catch the light from her wand. The other Auror gulped, and, with a stream of apologies, left to rejoin his post.
She walked slowly, taking note of every copper knut in the room. As they couldn't leave the bodies to rot on the scene of an investigation, Auror protocol was to leave a knut where the bodies lay, enchanted to make a faint glowing line, representing where a corpse had lain.
As Hermione made her way through the room, something near where the Minister had died caught her attention. She knelt, brow furrowing, as she studied a strange black feather, emitting a thick, oily smoke.
