East Wing, Potter Manor
Sirius found Harry in the study, drenched to the skin, standing in his feathered cloak.
"Are you planning to wear that to bed?" He asked, placing down a tray of snacks.
"I think it's rather fetching." Harry said, not turning around.
"Do you know the definition of insanity?"
"Don't start." Harry grumbled, carefully adding a drop of champagne to his identifying concoction. As the grey sludge started turning golden, Harry cried out in frustration, hurtling the bowl to shatter against the wall.
"Harry, calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down!" Harry spun on Sirius, eyes blazing.
"Someone has to!" Sirius slammed his fist on the counter.
Silence flooded the space between them, neither backing down.
"Harry," Sirius said, much more levelly. "You need to take a moment to breathe. Consider what you're doing."
"I'm bringing justice to my parents' murder." Harry snapped.
"Do you think that's what they would have wanted?"
"I'll never know!" Harry roared.
Sirius slowly closed his mouth.
"Harry, your parents loved you." Sirius leaned on the counter next to the younger man. "Their fight, in the Wizengamot, at Hogwarts, and against Voldemort and his cronies, they did that so that the world they brought you in would be a better one."
"Then what right do I have to do any different?" Harry demanded. "When their killers, the very injustice they fought against, gets to walk free while they-"
Harry ground his teeth, unable to finish.
"I might just be an old dog," Sirius sighed, running his left hand over the stump of his right arm. "Far past my prime… But I do remember, Harry. And I know your parents wouldn't have wanted you to waste away, poring over poisoned glasses of champagne."
Without a word, Harry watched Sirius go. After a moment, he waved his wand, reassembling the broken dish and vanishing the spilled decoction. He stood, regarding the tray Sirius had left behind. A spread of dips and sauces ringed the edges of a plate packed with cold meats, cheeses and crackers.
Harry gingerly lifted a cracker, running the edge through a tomato pesto. He paused. A thought cut through the miasma of his mind like a streak of sunlight lacerating thick fog.
He spun, grabbing a fresh batch of identifying decoction and pouring it out onto the dish. He bent, removing from under the table a small container, holding shards of glass. He selected a piece, correlating to one of the vials he knew to have been poisoned. He placed the piece of glass into the decoction and grinned widely as it turned a bright purple, emitting puffs of green smoke.
Harry brewed another batch of identifying decoction, storing half and pouring half into the dish. He selected a shard from the Minister's glass, placing it carefully into the dish, he nearly screamed in frustration as the decoction turned clear, bubbling gold. After a moment's consideration, he grabbed a serving from Sirius' tray, chewing idly as he studied his notes.
10:43 - RS enters ballroom, begins speech, takes potion.
10:51 - RS toasts using poisoned champagne
Harry went back to the pensieve. He watched the now extremely familiar memory play out from Sirius perspective.
A chime resounded through the hall.
"Honoured Guests… Your presence here, above all else, is a testament to the strength of Britain and her people."
An appreciative murmur among the onlookers. Champagne is distributed. Percy Weasley speaks to the minister, hands him a vial and glass of champagne.
"To your health." The Minister drinks the silvery potion. "Far be it from me to pretend a prime constitution."
Harry reemerged from the memory, rushing over to his sample box. In a clear, crystal vial, a finger of thick, silver liquid rested. He poured two drops into his remaining decoction.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. The substance spread, shining with an internal light, but blackened and smoked at the edges.
"Unicorn blood?" He whispered. The black edges thinned and disappeared. Harry sagged, head spinning with the revelation. It was clear that the champagne itself hadn't been poisoned, rather the glasses themselves were laced. But not the Minister's. Whatever had been in the Minister's potion, the Unicorn blood was overwhelming it now.
Harry turned, listening to the raindrops thunder on the roof. Why go through the effort of poisoning the Minister's potion if you were going to be poisoning the champagne anyway? And, conversely, why poison the champagne if you were already lacing the potion?
The odds of two disparate poisonings, both meticulously hidden, seemed thin, but not dismissable. Yet…
"Sirius!"
"Yeah?" His godfather's voice echoed from further in the hall.
"I think the Minister was assassinated!"
There was a pause, footsteps breaking the silence.
"Are the potion fumes getting to you?" Sirius rounded the corner, studying Harry with no small level of concern. "We saw it happen? We were there, remember?"
"No, just stop and listen for a moment." Harry turned, showing Sirius the slowly dimming decoction. "Unicorn blood. Laced with something strong enough to persist days in contact with the strongest healing substance, short of the Elixir of Life, known to Wizardkind."
"But- that- why would someone go through the effort..?"
"That's just it!" Harry spun around, gaining speed, holding the decoction with a shard of glass still sticking out.
"Well, even I know that's glass."
"Glass laced with poison!"
"But the champagne…"
"Would have poisoned everyone in the ballroom if it was compromised. But if you poison just a few glasses…"
"That would still kill randomly?" Sirius massaged his temples. "Can you stop pacing? You're giving me a headache."
"What if that was the point?"
"You're making no sense."
"What if you poisoned all those people, but you only wanted one of them dead?"
"Can you just spit it out?"
"The attacker didn't care who was poisoned, that's why they poisoned the glasses. They would have no way of knowing who could get a laced glass or not. The only reasonable assumption is that they wanted to throw the investigation off."
"If a whole ballroom is poisoned, why look carefully at any of the victims…" Sirius' eyes widened as he caught on. "But Harry, that means…"
"This wasn't an attack on a number of Magical Britain's rich and powerful. It was murder."
Hermione settled into her worn leather office chair. She placed the feather, safely sealed in a conjured snowglobe, on her desk. She reached down, finally resigning herself to catching up with her paperwork. She paused.
Hermione had always been meticulous. The way she organised documents and paperwork had a very specific pattern.
"Cedric, have you been at my files?"
Her partner grumbled dissent through a mouthful of chinese takeout.
Hermione frowned, but continued on heedless.
"How was Snape?" Cedric swallowed. "Still a bellend?"
"Always. He did identify the feather for me. Apparently it's a petrified Phoenix Feather."
"I'm pretty sure a petrified Phoenix couldn't move, let alone plot a break in."
"Not like that." Hermione sighed. "The feather wasn't produced naturally from a Phoenix, Someone had to have made it. Apparently it's incredibly difficult and expensive."
"So..?"
"So," Hermione explained as if to a particularly dim witted child. "Petrified Phoenix Feathers are highly resistant to magic, and self regenerate any damage. Who would make such a thing and why?"
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid."
"Sorry." Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "It's been a long day. And despite how I made it sound, I'm completely lost myself. I've narrowed down my list of suspects to rich Wizard or Witch who would want to cause the Ministry harm, so basically the entirety of Magical Britain's elite."
"Well…" Cedric leaned forward slowly, brow furrowing. "There is one other clue you have."
"What do you mean?"
"Rich Wizard or Witch who would want to cause the Ministry harm," Cedric quoted. "Present in the Ministry on the day of the break in."
"The Ledger." Hermione's eyes widened.
Drops of rain dripped from dark green shingles. Harry watched the reedy man stumble down the alley before stealing down the wall. Harry entered the red phone booth, crouching so his father's invisibility cloak covered him completely.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic-"
Harry cut the female voice off with a quick confundus charm.
The booth slid down onto the floor of the Ministry Atrium with a hollow thump. Harry remained motionless as the guard walked up, muttering.
"Ministry Booth, maintenance."
"Useless charms." The guard stored her wand. "Whole place is going to the gutter."
Harry crept from the booth, closing the door silently. The guard sat back down at her desk, flipping open a magazine. Sticking to the shadows, Harry made his way into the elevator.
"Department of Magical Law Enforcement." He said, pressing himself against the side of the elevator. He heard the guard rise, footsteps clapped on the tiles, but the elevator was already away.
Harry remained hidden as the elevator came to a stop. After a moment listening, he stealthed out, darting to the nearest shadowed alcove in the smooth stone walls.
"We're on to something now." Auror Granger was completely focussed as she passed three paces from his hiding spot. "If nothing else we can narrow down our list of subjects dramatically."
From behind his spectrespecs, Harry watched Granger and Diggory enter the elevator and disappear from sight. Straining his magically enhanced hearing, he caught the last words of their conversation.
"What is it?" Diggory asked.
"I thought I saw…"
Harry darted from his hiding place, cursing his luck. His father's cloak covered him from head to toe, but did not extend invisibility to the floor beneath him. He hadn't considered worrying about Magical eyes looking at him from under the floor.
At the angle and speed the elevator descended, Harry doubted Granger caught more than a glance at his feathered cape, but he couldn't take any chances. He stowed his father's cloak in an enlarged pouch on his belt, forgoing the stealth advantage for higher mobility.
He sped through the DMLE landing, rushing towards where he remembered the Evidence Chamber to be from his stolen blueprints. An Auror appeared in the hall ahead of him, going white faced. Harry didn't bother to slow, he leapt, grabbing the Auror by the face and smashing the back of her head onto the stone floor.
He didn't slow, rolling back into a run. Voices cried out, rushing into the hallway behind him as Harry turned a corner. He flung his invisibility cloak over himself, just in time, as a group of Aurors ran past him.
"Merlin, it's Smith." A voice drifted from the hallway.
"Let's get her to the infirmary. Who knows what that thing did to her."
Harry slunk away in the opposite direction, quietly opening the door to the evidence chamber. He passed three doors before finding what he was looking for. Rows upon rows of shelves packed with piles of glass shards, each labelled, and at the end of the hall, the dark blue dress robes the Minister wore when he died. Harry searched the shelves, breathing a quick sigh of relief as he found a small pouch of potion vials, still stoppered.
Samples of each potion carefully secured in his own potions pouch, Harry made his way back out in the hallway. Aurors kept watch at both ends of the hall, but neither noticed him leave. He rushed forward, focussed only on getting to the elevator.
"He's gone right past you, you blind idiots!"
Granger's voice. Harry cursed.
He turned the corner, seeing a group of Aurors waiting in the mouth of the hallway. He grit his teeth, slipping his fingers into twin iron knuckledusters. He leapt through the air, covering his chest with his cloak. Stunners splashed against the feathers futilely. He snapped out a leg, lifting the nearest Auror off his feet with the force of his kick.
Careful to keep his cloak covering him, Harry burst forward, sending two more Aurors to the ground with blows from his fists. Diggory was the last Auror left, sending blasting, cutting and rending curses Harry's way. With a knee to the chin, Diggory joined his fellow Aurors on the ground.
Harry panted heavily, sucking in air from behind his mask. He jogged forward, hearing the second group of Aurors nearing on his heels.
"Aurors down!"
"See to them!" Granger's voice. "I've got the perp!"
Harry sped up, heavy boots skidding on polished stone floor. Finally his destination was in sight, a single dark haired Auror all that stands between him and freedom.
The Auror saw him, whipping his ivory wand in a slash.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry's eyes widened, spinning to avoid the pale green projectile. He had recognised Alex Chambers from Weasley's memories, but hadn't expected him to blatantly use an Unforgivable Curse in the middle of the Ministry, surrounded by Aurors.
With a precise blow, Harry knocked the man's wand into the air, snatching and snapping it between the fingers of his other hand. He knocked Chamber's breath from his chest with a blow to the gut, sending the Death Eater gasping to his knees.
Harry had dispatched the other Aurors quickly and efficiently, making sure not to cause too much harm. With the Death Eater he would take his time. He sent Chambers sprawling to the stone floor with a hammer fist before grabbing the man's wand arm and snapping it at the elbow. Chambers gagged breathlessly, unable to scream without air in his lungs.
"I know you'll just heal." Harry growled, grabbing the man's limp arm and crushing the bones of his index finger. "Skelegro for the bones, Trembley's Tendon cure, restoration charms."
Harry punctuated each word with a blow on Chamber's face. He felt spells splash onto his cloaked back.
"So I'll leave you with the memory." Harry sent the full weight of his rage behind his blows, feeling the thin bone of an eye-socket give. "Memories never heal."
A desk impacted Harry, sending him flying across the room. Spots danced in his vision. He struggled to his hands and knees, forcing himself to breathe evenly.
Hermione levitated a chair, white with fear, and banished it at the black feathered monster. It rolled out of the way, but she noted how much slower its movements were. Despite knowing that underneath the mask and cloak, a human being hid, she could only see a demon, leaving bodies in its wake. She summoned the heavy wooden desk from behind it, trying to catch the thing off guard again.
It jumped, rolling in the air, deftly avoiding the desk. Hermione threw herself to the ground, the summoned desk flying over her head and crashing into the wall behind her.
"I don't want to hurt you. Stay out of my way." Harry's voice reverberated through the room.
When Hermione looked up, the cloaked man was gone. She scrambled to her feet, sweeping the room with her wand. Finally her eyes landed on Chambers. His face was swelling, blood running from his nose and broken teeth, but her eyes froze on his left arm, sleeve ripped off roughly, the black mark stark against his pale skin.
Daphne Greengrass checked the enchanted parchment again. In the days that followed the break-in, the other Unspeakables had moved on as if break-ins by creatures no one had so much as heard of were commonplace. Daphne could not move on.
Commissioned by Minister Artemisia Lufkin in 1799, the creation of the Ledger had long since been lost to time. It recorded every Wizard, Witch and many magical creatures that came into contact with the Ministry's wards. Once per day, it records all the names for the day in alphabetical order. For this to happen, it needs a few moments where the wards don't actively connect to it.
The Intermission, or rather, the seven minutes in a day where the wards refreshed, time where critical ministerial functions that required specific wards to be down occurred. One such function was the update to the Ledger.
Daphne was not arrogant. She was well aware of her shortcomings. As such she was confident in saying there wasn't a single witch or wizard alive that knew as much about the Ministry's wards as she did.
It was for this reason that she was frustrated. Her colleagues in the department reversed the visitor's enchantment on their notes the moment they could. Daphne copied her notes onto new parchment, keeping the enchanted notes for further study. The sheets of paper whirled inside their transparent container. She allowed herself a moment for her mind to wander, speculating on why a House Elf would enter the Department of Mysteries at 2:03AM.
Her thoughts drifted to Harry Potter. She had been rather proud of herself for avoiding him at the fundraiser, despite Astoria's constant hints and glances. Then he had surprised her at her weekly lunch with her sister and brother-in-law. She had been taken aback, retreating into the persona she had developed to survive her years at Hogwarts.
A soft chime brought her out of her reverie. She checked the enchanted paper. Runes and cyphers traced even patterns across the page, interrupted by a jumbled splash of new symbols. Daphne sighed, placing the sheet of parchment aside before running her wand over it in what had become a very familiar pattern.
Bright, glowing glyphs lifted from the page before slowly dissipating. Daphne compared the results with her previous batch. She frowned. As usual, she quickly found the connection between the parchment and the Minister's office, the wards and the Minister's office, and finally the House Elf and the wards. Unlike usual, a fourth connection spun from the parchment.
She cast the diagnostic spell again, taking careful note of the last set of glyphs.
Daphne Greengrass was not arrogant. She was capable, and intelligent. And she knew the glyphs for the caster of an enchantment when she saw them. Now all she had to do was determine the magical signature that created that specific set of glyphs. It would take time and more than a little luck, but she was confident that she could do it.
Besides, she could always just run through the names in the Ledger one by one until she found a match.
Sirius hung the feathered cape in its place, slid the hidden door closed, and left the study. He took the long way to the kitchen, silently looking in through the door of the second bedroom. Harry was still fast asleep.
He'd be pissed as all hell when he woke up, but Sirius was prepared for it. Harry would shout and frown but in the end he'd appreciate what Sirius had done for him.
Sirius found him in the study at the alchemy table, having removed his cape and shirt, revealing a severely bruising back. And so Sirius, finding his godson injured and trying to brew a healing salve, had made the only logical decision presented to him.
He swapped a Pepper Up potion Harry made with a Dreamless Sleep potion and dragged him off to bed after healing his injuries.
In the kitchen, Sirius began brewing a pot of tea. Despite the fact that they kept teabags at Harry's insistence, Sirius always brewed a full pot. Likely as a product of his upbringing, Sirius couldn't stand the taste of bagged tea.
Tea was a lot like politics. There was the very superficial engagement, the bagged stuff, surface level intrigue, knowing who knew and supported who, and who they disliked. Then there was the deeper artform.
Statecraft, his grandfather had called it, and it was a testament to how good Sirius was at it that to the present day, Narcissa still believed she was the Old Man's protege. Arcturus the Third had seen Sirius' potential and taught him how to read the landscape and factions of politics the way a skilled general studied a battlefield.
Despite how much Sirius despised his family's reputation and values, he had to give the old man credit. He taught Sirius well. Belying the show he put on, and his reputation for being unintelligent, Sirius doubted there was anyone in Magical Britain that could match him.
A ringing chime gave him pause. The gate wards were enchanted to alert him and Harry both when someone arrived, as long as they were on the property. Sirius walked out of the manor doors and followed the cobblestone path down to the enchanted gate, knuckles white on his cane.
Dreamless sleep wasn't as strong as the Draught of the Living Death, even if it was made through nearly the same process and with many of the same ingredients. Sirius knew his potion brewing skill was average at best, and as such he knew to contact a private brewer to make the potions for him.
The Half-Blood Prince demanded anonymity, which Sirius was fine with, considering he ordered the items under a pseudonym anyway.
A perfect Dreamless Sleep potion would normally last 10 hours. Considering Harry's natural resistance against mind-control, even against the Imperius, Sirius wagered the potion's effects would be wearing off in another hour or so.
Which meant that at least Harry would die in his sleep if there were Death Eaters breaking down the gates.
"Sorry," The voice was sincere and polite. "I'm quite sure I have the right address, but this doesn't look like Potter Manor."
"Riddle?" Sirius narrowed his eyes.
"Please, call me Tom." He smiled. "I was quite impressed with your political acumen, Lord Black."
"Sirius." He insisted, lifting his cane.
"Now that's better." Tom breathed. The illusion that made Potter Manor look like overgrown ruins rippled and lifted as he passed through the now golden gates.
"More to your taste?"
"I suppose." Riddle admired the scenery. "Though it's a bit rich for my blood."
"Is there a particular reason you've arrived on my doorstep?" Sirius asked. "Or are you just here to admire the scenery?"
"I was hoping to speak to Potter."
"Could've owled."
"I wanted to thank him for saving my life."
"The way Harry tells it," Sirius recalled viewing Harry's memories. "You already had the Bezoar on you."
"Ah, yes." Riddle grinned acidly. "I've carried a bezoar in my pocket since my very first potions class. And when the day came I was actually poisoned, my arms cramped so stiff I couldn't so much as touch it."
"The best laid plans." Sirius shook his head in sympathy. "Well, Harry is… out at the moment, I'm afraid."
"That should teach me to arrive unannounced." Riddle smiled. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Lord Black. Have a nice day."
"Riddle…" He mulled the idea over. "Tom. I've just brewed a pot of tea, and the rest is going to waste. Would you care to join me?"
Riddle considered for a moment, then nodded.
They walked in companionable silence, the glass domed splendour of Potter Manor just visible beyond the sculpted hedges and flowers of the gardens. Sirius led the way to a secluded stone picnic table, ringed by hedges sculpted like birds and creatures. At a snap of Sirius' fingers, Nipsy popped in and placed a tray with tea on the stone table. Sirius took his already poured cup while Tom fixed his own.
"You take your tea black?" Sirius asked idly.
"Seemed appropriate." Riddle smirked. "Considering present company."
Sirius grinned roguishly.
"Sirius, knowing what I do about House Black, is it safe to assume you had a reason for inviting me in?"
"You're very perceptive…"
"For a half-blood?"
The silence stretched on for a moment before Sirius sighed.
"Tom, who are you?"
"I don't think I follow."
"I was raised studying bloodlines."
"Including the Most Noble line of Gaunt." Tom sneered. "My maternal family. I didn't realise you had such an interest in me, Lord Black."
"Our current Minister for Magic nominees include a Blood Supremacist and a known Death Eater sympathiser. Given your competition, I'd wager most Light and even some of the neutral Houses consider you a shoe in."
"But you want to know who you're voting for?"
"Is that too much to ask?"
"Some would consider it so."
"A trade then."
Riddle quirked an eyebrow.
"What would you offer me?"
"An endorsement." Sirius bartered. "And a fundraiser for your campaign. Unless Hogwarts salaries have drastically changed since last year, I know you'd need it."
"All that, in exchange for a few answers?"
"I am feeling generous."
"The backing of a Most Noble House would legitimise my campaign in the eyes of many."
"Even a notoriously disreputable House such as mine." Sirius smiled.
"Especially a house such as yours." Tom smiled back. "Very well, Sirius. I'll bite."
"I know about Tom Riddle Senior, killed by Morfin Gaunt." Sirius began. "Relative of yours?"
"Yes." Tom felt his stomach squirm. Black was well informed and, Tom reminded himself, incredibly cunning. "What the papers won't tell you is that Tom Riddle had a son with Merope Gaunt."
Sirius whistled.
"Nasty business. A half-blood Bastard. Your father, I assume?"
"The man who spawned me, yes." Tom grinned, giving the comment a depreciating edge. "I never knew my parents. My mother died in childbirth and my father not long after."
It wasn't a lie. Voldemort had created the Diary, from which Tom resurrected, and then perished trying to kill the Potters. Tom was merely bending the timeframe.
"You grew up with your paternal family?"
"An orphanage, actually."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Sirius said, feeling a fool. Riddle shrugged.
"It was a hard life. Hogwarts was the first place I ever really felt at home."
"I grew up in a manor. Not like this one, not even close, but I still grew up a pureblood heir. Yet Hogwarts was the first place I ever felt welcome."
"I know how you feel, feeling safe in those castle walls…" Riddle smiled.
"It wasn't the castle for me, it was the people. The escape from-"
"Being an outcast?"
Sirius regarded him discerningly.
"Satisfied, Lord Black?"
"I think I've misjudged you, Tom."
"Oh, I wouldn't dwell on it too much." Tom smiled over the brim of his cup. "Sirius."
Sirius met the other man's gaze. After a moment's keen consideration, he shook his head, smiling ruefully.
"If you turn out to be a Dark Wizard, I will never forgive you."
"No promises." Tom's warm smile broadened as he revelled internally at the success of the exchange.
"What a fucking mess." Cedric sneered. He and Hermione had found Pinescrew dead in his cell while investigating the night's attack. "I'd give my wand arm to know how that thing found out where we were keeping him."
Hermione didn't admonish him for his language. Her partner had been in a foul mood all morning, and considering recent events she didn't blame him. Like most of the Aurors their assailant had knocked out, Cedric had been dispatched with swift precision. Unlike most of the other Aurors that had been attacked, Cedric had insisted on still coming in for work.
His injuries were minimal, just a dark bruise colouring the side of his head, so he had even refused healing.
"Something doesn't add up." Hermione sighed, watching indifferently as Pinescrew's corpse was levitated away.
"The thing arrives, gets caught trying to sneak in, then AKs Pinescrew in his cell before attacking the Aurors trying to stop it from leaving again. Seems pretty cut and fucking dry to me."
"Then why take such care to merely incapacitate the Aurors, while brutalising Chambers?"
"I don't fucking know!" Cedric threw up his hands. "Maybe it and Chambers are rivals for the Dark Lord's affections? Why does it matter?"
"I don't know yet." She admitted. "But my gut is telling me there's more going on."
"Granger?" Auror Fairview called.
"Good morning, Christopher. How's the family?"
"What happened here? Eight Aurors injured?"
"We had another visit from our DoM guest."
A shining terrier Patronus drifted into the area, speaking with Robards' voice.
"All senior Aurors to the briefing chamber."
Cedric scowled after Hermione and Fairview as they left.
"Leave me with the paperwork." He grumbled. "As usual."
An hour later, Hermione and Fairview reseated themselves in the briefing room. Robards had called a vote for Director, as expected. Also as expected, he was not elected. The auburn haired man was currently seething in the corner of the room, having been stripped of his rank of Chief Auror to stand for election. The newly elected Director John Dawlish walked up to his podium, laughing and waving, clapped on the back as he went by his fellow Aurors, Corban Yaxley and Prinsilla Avery among them.
"I don't want to say you chose the right man," Dawlish leaned on the podium casually. "Because I'd hate to disappoint any of you!"
The assembled Aurors laughed and jeered as glasses of firewhiskey were passed out. Hermione lifted a hand to deny the offered drink, her mouth tightening. She knew of John Dawlish by reputation only. By all accounts he was lazy, crass and more likely to ask a bribe than make an arrest. The fact that he was so friendly with known blood purists in the department boded ill as well.
"We all work too hard." Dawlish toasted, downing his glass in one swig, shuddering as steam wafted from his ears. He shook himself, vanishing the conjured glass before clearing his throat once more.
"We'll have to delay the initiation to after work. As you all know, there's a rather eager press waiting for me in the Atrium. If I ever find out who leaked this bloody farce, I'll snap their wand myself."
Less cheering this time. Hermione quirked an eyebrow. Dawlish bared a yellow toothed grin.
"As such, I need the right Chief Auror. Someone I know will be at my side, no matter what."
Yaxley smirked, looking around at the other Aurors regarding him with clear envy. Yaxley had nominated Dawlish, and was a clear shoe-in.
"Someone who will… let's say uphold the values of this fine institution." He paused, waiting for a round of laughs and jeers to die down. "As such, it will be my first official act as Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to elevate Hermione Jean Granger to the position!"
Someone actually gasped.
"Granger, follow me." Dawlish strode out confidently, not allowing the assembly of shocked Aurors to regain their balance. Hermione took a moment to snap her mouth shut, and then hesitantly followed after the new Director.
"Sir?" She asked reluctantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Granger, I'll be frank, we don't have time to gaggle like schoolgirls. I don't like you, and as a result of my reputation, I expect you don't like me much either."
"That is accurate, sir."
"None of that matters. What matters is your reputation, and more importantly, your record. I want you to know that I will stand behind you, give you access to any and all resources you need to bring as many Death Eaters to justice you can. If they're high blood, just keep it quiet so we can avoid a scandal."
Hermione's head spun. She struggled to focus on following after Dawlish, while taking the mental impact of his words in stride.
"I'll be upfront with you Granger. I fully intend to take the credit for the startlingly low crime rate the country will enjoy with you cutting away the rot. You will do all the work, I will receive all the praise. As a mudblood, you can expect to be hated, or even outright attacked for bearing down hard on blood purists. As a pureblood myself, I have a level of protection. I won't stand in the way of you doing what you do, and in exchange I ride the publicity highs and lows. Do we have a deal?"
"I can live with that, sir." Hermione knew this was likely the best opportunity she would ever get as a muggleborn in the ministry. "But why? By all accounts you should be doing the opposite?"
"Don't discourage me now." He barked a laugh. "The minister is tits up, our chief suspect in the murder a very recent corpse, and we've no real leads. Anti Death Eater sentiment is practically religious after the Argent Lakes fiasco. I'll throw the vultures something to keep them from ripping me a new one instead."
"What did you have in mind, sir?" Hermione chose her words carefully while following the Minister into the elevator to the Atrium.
"Tell me everything, and I mean everything, we know about our uninvited guest last night."
"Well for one thing," Hermione chose her words carefully. "He's no creature. It's a wizard."
Lavender Brown sucked on the end of her quill. The quick quotes quill and floating notepad next to her were doing most of the work. Having apprenticed under the greatest journalist of their time, Rita Skeeter, she knew the true value of a story wasn't found in what actually happened or what was really said, but rather what could be implied and inferred.
Unfortunately, what could be inferred in her current situation was dreadfully dull, which is why she let the quill record it verbatim. Granger, the crusty hag, was giving the driest possible account of the new Director of Magical Law Enforcement.
Granger being promoted implied a DMLE more willing to do their job. There was no drama in doing what you were supposed to.
"-and now," Granger said in her nauseating monotone. "It is my privilege to introduce our new Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, John Dawlish."
"Thank you, Auror Granger." He nodded to her as she took a seat next to the podium. "Now that we're all, uh, more well informed-"
Lavender perked up as a small laugh permeated the assembled press.
"-I won't bore you with all the details about how proud I am to have been elected or how much I look forward to it or any of the other tosh my predecessors did."
Cameras flashed.
"All I'll say is this: I've had enough."
A murmur of surprised approval.
"The people of Magical Britain have had enough. If you are one of these cowardly slugs who target proper, upstanding citizens, know that we are coming for you. The gloves are off."
Quills rustled as the journalists took notes.
"I'll take questions now. State your name and the paper you represent."
A hand flew up.
"Yes?"
"Hector Spectre, Crystal Ball. We've heard startling reports of a break-in in the Department of Mysteries, any comment?"
"The perpetrator of the break-in has already been linked with three other crimes. We are hot on its trail. You, in the tube hat."
"Hilda Skilter, Foreign Oracle. Can you comment on the other events in question?"
"We believe the creature to be linked to another recent break-in, and the Argent Lakes attack. We do not yet understand the creature's connection to You-Know-Who, but given his history of working with and utilising Dark Creatures, we are confident it will be made clear soon. You, in the dead rabbit."
"Lavender Brown, Daily Prophet." She bristled as she adjusted her fur stole. "You called the culprit a 'creature'. You don't believe it to be human?"
"It is our understanding at this time," He presented a smoking, black feather. "That the creature in question is an unknown subspecies of Chimera."
