Whoever Hermione had expected Kingsley to name, it certainly wasn't Fleur Delacour. As far as Hermione was aware Fleur was a Gringotts curse breaker, who, while certainly might be familiar with various warding runes, was far more adapt at disabling enchantments and not at understanding the intricacies and subtle nuances of complex rune magic. Perhaps the ministry was concerned about live curses that hadn't yet been unearthed? But that didn't make sense either. Gringotts would never willingly lend one of their curse breakers to the Ministry.
She mused on this as she tackled packing. Having no idea how long she would be staying proved to complicate the task. She couldn't bring herself to completely pack up her cottage- it would feel too final, too permanent.
She decided to travel back to England on Saturday in order to give herself some time to settle in to her new accommodation and, hopefully, make some progress with the case file. If that also meant she would be avoiding weekday crowds in the Ministry, well, who could blame her?
It had taken just 10 minutes to pack her clothes, precisely eight of which were spent deliberating between packing her formal garb (she did), but her books were another matter entirely. She nearly postponed her departure to give another few hours to contemplate the merits of bringing the "Encyclopedia of Toadstools" (she didn't).
There were times throughout Hermione's life that she would find herself immensely grateful for being a witch. The ability to carry 106 books in her in a small bag was one such moment.
She spent the next several days surrounded by her muggle friends when she wasn't packing. Sarah flat out refused to allow Hermione to babysit on Friday night, despite Hermione's somewhat halfhearted protesting, and instead insisted she pass the night in much the same manner as she had a few nights prior. She told them she had been hired, managing to dodge questions about what she was doing by throwing out words like "microbial" and "abyssopelagic zone" that led to her friends' eyes quickly becoming glazed over. They nodded in earnest and changed the subject. Hermione could almost pretend she wasn't lying at all and simply bending the truth. Almost.
On Saturday, she erected several complicated, intricate wards and locked the front door the muggle way for good measure. Comforted by the protection her personalized wards promised, she gave the cottage one last cursory look through. The small home was nearly unrecognizable from when she first purchased it using the funds her parents had once set aside for University, back before they could have ever imagined the hidden world of magic. When she first moved there was only a small pine bookcase left over from the previous owner who did not deem it worthwhile enough to move himself, and instead graciously elected to leave the bookcase that should have found a new home at the dump. That first night in the cottage Hermione, completely plastered from a bargain sized fire whiskey, had told the bookcase that under no circumstances would she abandon it. The next morning she had painted it white and proudly displayed it in her living room.
The rest of the house had slowly been filled with various trinkets gifted to her by various thankful employers. A snow globe collection, charmed to never collect dust, was exhibited on white hanging shelves that wrapped around the living room. Both muggle and magic books were strewn around the room. Some were immaculately stored in one of the several bookcases, while others were stacked in piles of various states of precariousness on the floor.
It was a slightly mad sight. To Hermione, it was home, and she would miss it.
Unwilling to linger lest she lose her nerve, she apparated away.
The Portland office was the same as it was before, but with fewer people. Her portkey was not a normally scheduled journey, instead being requested by the Minister of Magic himself, and thus she did not have to endure any small talk with fellow passengers. Charlie, the travel official, was blessedly absent, a well groomed man in his stead. The man didn't attempt to interact with Hermione beyond giving her a forced looking smile and introducing himself as a support staffer. Not 5 minutes later, Hermione was once again clutching a portkey.
Like in Portland, the Ministry of Magic was nearly empty, allowing Hermione to reach Kingsley's office without interruption. The strict secretary Hermione had met previously was no where to be seen. His office door was propped open. She popped her head in timidly.
"Kingsley?"
"Come in!"
Instead of welcoming Hermione with a hug, Kingsley dropped a heavy, thick binder in her arms, causing them to drop slightly from the effort of holding it up.
"Everything we have on the site, the research the Unspeakable's have been doing, all staff involved, and all theories, viable or not."
"It all fits in here?"
"It's charmed. Featherweight and expansion. I believe the actual number of papers in there is around 180,000."
"Lovely."
"A bit of light reading for you hm?"
"Where should I be apparating to?" Hermione chose to ignore Kingsley's jab.
"We set up a portkey for you." He held up an empty tin can. "An official is waiting for you in Cowgate, right near your new flat. We just need to perform the vow and you'll be on your way."
Hermione nodded and dumped the binder into a nearby chair. The pair clasped left hands. Kingsley raised his wand.
"Do you, Hermione Granger, vow to not speak nor suggest nor write about any classified research conducted by the Unspeakables to any individual, corporation, or group not directly involved in the investigation."
"I do."
A red glowing tendril of magic wrapped around both their wrists.
"And do you vow to not speak nor suggest nor write about any findings you or the investigative team may discover to any individual, corporation, or group not directly involved in the investigation until I, Kingsley Shacklebolt, give you express permission to do so?"
"I do."
"So mote may it be."
"So mote may it be."
The tendril of magic tightened uncomfortably around their wrists before fading to white and vanishing.
"Excellent. The portkey leaves in exactly one minute. Is there anything else you wanted to ask?"
Hermione was about to shake her head when a thought occurred to her.
"Why is Fleur Delacour on the case?"
Kingsley motioned for Hermione to grab the tin, when she did, he spoke.
"I suspect you'll find out rather quickly. She's one of the most clever witches, or wizards for that matter, that I've ever met. You'll have your hands full with that one, she has… présence"
The tin started to glow just as Hermione opened her mouth. She disappeared without so much as a pop.
Kingsley sat back down behind his desk, a smug look on his face.
/
Hermione was quite pleased with herself when she landed on two feet. It took her eyes a moment to adjust from the well lit office to the shadowed alley. A man stepped towards her. He spoke in a thick Scottish brogue.
"Ms. Granger, it's an honor to meet you. I'm Auror Jerald Jones"
"Nice to meet you, Hermione's fine."
He smiled broadly.
"Alright then, Hermione, your flat is just this way." Jerald said motioning behind him.
"Where are we exactly?"
"Right now in we're in a close. The flat's in Grassmarket, about a five minute walk."
They exited the alley and walked along a tight road, passing several packed bars as they went.
"Big rugby game." The Auror said conversationally.
Hermione merely hummed.
He asked Hermione questions about her time in the war as they walked. Hermione evaded the questions as best she could, but by the time they stopped in front of a slightly downtrodden looking building she was more than slightly annoyed. The Auror opened the door using a muggle key and led Hermione up three flights of stairs to number 54.
"This is it. Nothing special, but should get the job done."
The flat was a simple one bedroom with a small kitchen and a generous sized living room. It was lightly furnished: just one modest looking couch, a large armchair, and a coffee table. The bedroom had a queen sized bed, a spindly side table, and a bureau.
Hermione, who had resorted to ignoring the Auror's attempts at conversation, turned to the man and curtly thanked him in a way that left no room for doubt that it was a dismissal.
The Auror apparated with another round of thanks, leaving a set of muggle keys on the coffee table.
Hermione let out a sigh as he disappeared.
/
The sun had just set when Hermione finished unpacking. She called for takeaway from an Indian restaurant whose menu was pinned to the cork board in the hall, and collapsed into the couch with the case file.
Someone had thoughtfully put a summary at the beginning that covered all pertinent points, and outlined the contents of the less essential information. The summary was nearly 30 pages. The intercom rang when she was on page 20.
She got up to pay and settled back in. She could see why the Unspeakables were out of their depth. According to whomever wrote the summary, the runes found at the site were not at all similar to the ones at other ruins of the same period around the country. It was not unusual for ancient ruins throughout the UK to have different runes and magical signatures as the country had a storied history of invaders, but it was unusual to have no overlap at all. In fact, if Hermione was looking at the report without any knowledge of the location of the site, she would never have thought it to be in Europe, never mind in Scotland.
She finished the summary, convinced she would have to see the site in person before being able to make any semblance of significant progress. With Anne's nagging voice in the back of her head telling her she needed more sleep, she resolved to look into the report in more depth tomorrow.
Sunday was spent getting accustomed to her new city, adjusting to the time difference, and trying to make a dent in the report. Her flat was quickly dissolved to a state of disarray. Of course, if you were to ask her to describe it, Hermione would say it was organized chaos.
She went to bed that night excited and slightly nervous for the morning. She wasn't used to running an investigation. Hermione had always made a point to work alone, as she found that others only served to slow her down. She was slightly comforted by the knowledge that she'd be working with Unspeakables, people who were undoubtable intelligent.
/
Someone was knocking at her door. Hermione groaned, still not yet used to the time change. A quick spell told her it wasn't yet 7:00 am. The knocking, which had paused momentarily, resumed, causing Hermione to fall out of bed and hastily jump into the first pair of pants she could find.
"One moment!"
She rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to clear the sleep from the as she walked through the living space. She hit the corner of the coffee table in her haste, causing a pile of books that had been balanced on top of it to topple, a thick tome hitting her toes. She swore as she hobbled to the door and wrest it open.
"Sorry abou- Fleur?"
The woman facing her didn't seem to have aged a day in the last decade. Fleur wore comfortable black jeans that hung from her hips and stopped just above black Blundstones and a dark grey oversized raincoat that fell nearly to her mid thigh. Her shimmering silvery-blonde hair was contained by a blue beanie that contrasted the rest of her dark outfit. Hermione thought bitterly that no one deserved to look that good this early in the morning in such casual clothes.
Fleur's eyebrows were nearly at her hairline as she took in Hermione's disheveled appearance. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards.
"'ermione. I 'ope I didn't wake you."
Had her voice always been this velvety? Hermione thought. Velvety? What does that even mean?
"No of course not, I was just… reading."
Fleur gave her an amused look, staring at the right corner of Hermione's mouth.
"You have a little something…" She motioned to her own mouth.
Hermione rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, embarrassed to feel the remnants of dried drool. She could feel the blush surfacing.
"Right. Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what exactly are you doing here?"
"I thought it might be better if I saw you before we were with the others, in case seeing me brought up any unwanted," she paused, "memories."
Hermione blinked. She was surprised the woman had thought of checking in with her in such a way. Logically, she knew Fleur was more than capable of caring as it had been her that single-handedly nursed her back to health in Shell Cottage, but Hermione had always thought it was done more from an obligation to Harry and the cause than any genuine concern for Hermione herself. She had, after all, treated Fleur with thinly veiled contempt every time they had interacted before Shell Cottage.
"Oh uh, I'm alright. I mean thank you." Hermione managed to stammer out as she motioned inside. "Do you want to come in?" She remembered her manners, opening the door wider.
Fleur smiled and nodded.
"So. You've been elusive the last few years." Fleur said as she passed. She eyed the apartment, unimpressed.
"Yes, well, I've been working nearly constantly, makes it difficult to come back. What have you been up to?" Hermione had asked mostly to divert attention from herself, but found she was genuinely curious about Fleur's life. She noticed that Fleur's accent was barely noticeable anymore. She missed it.
"Work mostly."
"What exactly do you do? Last I heard you were at Gringotts?"
"Oui. I started as a curse breaker, I think you know this, no?" She continued at Hermione's nod. "I was with them for about five years. I found the goblins… unpleasant. I left to do consulting for various ministries for a number of years. Minerva offered me the Ancient Runes professor position when she heard I was looking for work. I just finished my third year."
"What's teaching like? I wanted to be a professor my first year at Hogwarts. I thought they were the most amazing people."
"Thought?" Fleur said, a teasing glint in her eye.
"Think." A small smile appeared on Hermione's face.
"It's wonderful. Mostly. I think they purposefully neglect to tell you about the mandatory patrols for junior Professors."
"I can imagine Professor McGonagall doing that. Do you mind if I change? There's tea in the kitchen, feel free to help yourself."
"Not at all. Would you like any?"
"Please. A breakfast tea would be lovely."
Hermione retreated to her bedroom. She let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. Had she always been this flustered around Fleur? She didn't think so. She thought it must be the thrall. Naturally, this led her to question what exactly the thrall was. She knew she was not affected by it in fourth year and only slightly during the summer preceding Harry, Ron, and her Odyssey. So why would the thrall only be affecting her now? Was it dependent on the effected's cognizance of his or her sexuality? And if that were the case, would people questioning still be effected? And how would the thrall even be able to surmise an individual's interest?
Hermione vowed to research more on the Veela when she returned home that night. In the interim, a stealth investigation would have to do.
Realizing she had not moved for the last minute, she hurriedly put on a chunky sweater, green cargo pants she had gotten as part of a costume several years ago and decided to keep after discovering their practicality (and comfort), and a sturdy pair of boots.
After halfheartedly brushing her teeth in a way that surely would have resulted in reprimand as a child, Hermione turned her attention to the unruly mess on top of her head. If she took slightly more care in managing her hair, well. It's not like anyone would know.
She walked back out to the living room much more composed than she was when had left.
"Fleur?"
"In 'ere! Just finishing."
She emerged a moment later holding two mugs, a smirk in place.
"I think this is yours?"
Fleur handed Hermione a black mug that had "#Bottom" in rainbow letters. Hermione reached for it, mortified.
"It's not mine! I mean, it is mine. I didn't buy it. A, um, friend did. As a joke. It was a joke." Hermione sputtered.
"It's ok 'ermione. I certainly won't judge." She winked.
Hermione gaped slightly before snapping her jaw shut.
"Right. Well, um, let's sit?" She gestured to the couch.
Fleur gracefully walked by her, passing closer than what was strictly necessary. Hermione noted she smelt faintly of fresh lilacs. Determined to regain some semblance of control, Hermione sat on the opposite end of the couch.
"So, why did the Ministry call in a Hogwart's professor?"
Hermione swore Fleur's face was permanently amused, or maybe it was just that way around her.
"Well, I am the leading expert on criminal warding."
"You are?"
"No need to sound so surprised."
"I'm not surprised," Hermione said slightly annoyed, "I'm just didn't know you were involved in things like that. Why didn't you work for the Ministry? Surely the DMLE would want you then?"
"They did. I didn't want them. I had exactly one conversation with the 'ead of the department. Arrogance is something I have little patience for."
"But you do for teenage boys' hormones?"
"They at least can recognize brilliance when they see it." Fleur tossed her hair back, but the motion was restricted by her hat, diminishing the effect. "Even if it is misguided"
"So you consult for them?"
"I used to, after I left Gringotts. Nowadays they know only to contact me if they have absolutely no other option. And this case," Fleur's tone turned more serious, "it's not like any I've ever seen. I'm out of my depth, that's why I insisted they contact you."
"You were the one that requested me?"
"Of course. I've been following your work. Ancient Runes and their Modern Implications was very well written. In fact it was that book that made me realize the site had more to it than what first met the eye."
"You read it?" Hermione couldn't help the surprise in her voice.
"I wouldn't be a very good professor if I didn't, seeing that it's one of the required readings for my NEWT students."
"Oh. Right."
They both jumped when a beeping noise rang around them. Hermione waved her hand and the beeping stopped.
"Sorry about that, it was my reminder alarm to leave for the site. Want to head over together?"
She motioned a hand and both Fleur and her empty mugs floated to the sink. She looked back to Fleur who was, for some reason, staring at her with an incredulous expression.
"'ermione, did you just perform wandless and silent magic?"
"Yes?"
Fleur's face was quickly schooled. "I suppose I should have expected that. What did they call you? The smartest witch of 'er generation?"
"Something like that. The site isn't far right?"
"It's about a 20 minute walk."
"Lead the way."