Health and Safety

It was late in the afternoon, when there was a knock on the door to her rooms in the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione looked up from the parchment she was reading. "Come in."

Thomas Greene poked his head inside. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," she answered.

He surprised her by moving a stack of books from a chair in the corner of the room and dragging it over in front of her desk. It wasn't like Thomas to sit when he spoke to her. He wasn't generally one to linger. There's been a development with the new class of candidates.

Hermione felt ice run through her veins.

Reading her expression, Thomas held up a hand. "Art is fine. More than fine actually."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, I know we haven't spoken about the candidates as we normally would because Art is your son, but now that the first phase is over—"

"There's loads more testing to go, Thomas," Hermione said.

"Yes, but you and I both know, the first phase tells the tale. You should be pleased, really. He's exceptional and with Jones and Basra both retiring this year…"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and pressed a finger to the bridge of her nose. She didn't want to hear this.

Thomas paused to give her a moment. "Anyway, the reason I'm here is that next week begins the second set of practical magic and with that comes the—"

Hermione looked up sharply. "The safety lecture," she finished for him as she shook her head. "No, Thomas. No. That's not right. You can't."

"I have to. They have to understand the magnitude and that's the worst cockup the department has seen in over a hundred years. The impact will be far more significant than just looking at dusty memories from hundreds of years ago."

Hermione shook her head. "He can't see that. Excuse him from that bit."

"You know I can't. It's too major. Everyone has to see it, even Art, especially Art."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's a legacy recruit. We don't have many of those. He needs to understand that this isn't just his mum's job, that it's dangerous, that this kind of magic is unpredictable and can be deadly if every precaution isn't taken and sometimes even if it is."

"So, you're going to make him watch his mother blow up?" Hermione asked angrily. "Do you want to see your mum blow up?"

"Hermione," Thomas said gently.

"Because I saw my mum after she was murdered. My dad too and let me tell you it changes you. So, I get that I'm not dead, but only just, Thomas. You, of all people, know that and you're still going to make my son sit through it? Seriously?"

He cleared his throat. "Actually, we're all going to watch it. It was such a significant incident that the whole department is meant to be there. Although, the general consensus was that you could be excused from that bit."

She let out an agonized laugh. "Oh, well, if I'm to be excused that'll be alright then."

Thomas sighed. "No. But I'm telling you, so you can talk to Art first. Prepare him. Technically, that's out of bounds. You're not meant to discuss the trials at all with him, but I'm making an exception in this case."

"And I'm what? Meant to be grateful?"

He grimaced.

"Well, I'm not grateful. Why he even wants this bloody job, I'll never understand."

Thomas frowned. "You know why. It's the same reason you did."

"I was broken!" Hermione shouted. "This was all I had! He has options. Lovely options."

"You had all the same options," Thomas said quietly.

"No, I did not! You might have had them but I didn't!"

Thomas sat quietly and let her rant.

"I had the weight of the world on my shoulders for years with Harry. Years! There at the end I was making life or death decisions every day, casting complex spells that if done incorrectly would have had us found and killed. And then one day, I woke up, and I was torn to pieces and all of that was gone. So, excuse me if I didn't see going to work for bloody Gringotts as a viable option." She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing and calm down. "You can't show him."

"I can and I will and I'm doing it tomorrow. Go home and tell him what to expect."

They both stood and the air around Hermione crackled and there was a hint of ozone. Thomas smiled sadly at her and left. "You fucking bastard," Hermione shouted after him. He didn't respond.

She didn't go home. Not immediately. Instead she Apparated to the Scottish coast and then to the Outer Hebrides to walk along the shore of an isolated uninhabited island that was a bird sanctuary. The island was just as windswept and desolate as it had been when she and Ron and Harry had stayed there ages ago. It was raining but she didn't bother with a charm or even to pull the hood up on her cloak. She just walked until she was soaked through and too cold to continue.

She Apparated into the kitchen and stood shivering and dripping on the floor.

"Miss!" Winky cried and snapped her fingers and handed Hermione a cup of hot tea.

Ron stepped into the kitchen. "Where have you been? It's half eight. Bloody hell, why are you all wet?"

"I went for a walk."

Ron looked out the kitchen window. The sun was starting to set and there was a light breeze but not a cloud in the sky. "Where?"

"Sandray."

"In the bloody Outer Hebrides? Are you mad? No one even lives there."

"Yes," Hermione said as she tugged off her cloak.

"Yes what?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I was in the Outer Hebrides, yes, I'm mad, and yes, no one lives there."

"Bloody hell, you're soaked through," he pulled his wand and cast a drying charm on her clothes, followed by a warming charm. What, you forgot how to cast an umbrella charm?"

"No. I just had other things on my mind. I need to go see Art, but I need to tell you something first." She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs.

Ron sat opposite her. "Alright."

"Thomas told me today that Art made it through the first round of trials."

Ron sat back. "Oh. But, he's still got loads more to do, yeah?"

Hermione took a sip of her tea. "Technically yes, but the first round often tells the tale of who will and who won't make it. So much so that sometimes all the candidates are dismissed after the first round. This time, there are two left."

"And Art's one of them."

Hermione nodded.

"I take it Thomas thinks Art can go the distance."

She nodded again.

Ron ran a hand down his face and over his beard. "Bloody hell."

"I know you don't want this for him. Neither do I, but—"

"It's his choice," Ron finished for her.

"Yes."

"Fuck," Ron said.

"I know, but there's more."

Ron looked at her. "More?"

"Tomorrow is the first day of phase two and that always starts with a review of departmental safety procedures followed by time with a Pensieve looking at the magical accidents that have occurred over the years."

Ron didn't say anything for a moment, absorbing what she'd said. Then he shook his head. "No. No. They wouldn't make him watch that. How could they even? Just don't give them the bloody memory."

"It's not my memory he'll see. It's the memories of the two wizards that drew the circle and were conducting the experiment and probably also Thomas' memory of what he came in on."

Ron grimaced. "And you can't stop this?"

"No." She looked down at the cup in her hands. "Maybe it's for the best anyway."

"Are you mad?"

She looked up and gave him a weak smile. "I thought we'd already established that."

He frowned at her.

"Look, this might be just what he needs to deter him from this career path entirely."

Ron pulled at his beard and quirked his lips. "But…"

"I know," she said softly. "I know." She stood. "I've got to go talk to him."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No."

He took her hand. "Are you sure?"

She sighed. "No. But this is an Unspeakable conversation."

He stared intently at her. "I love you."

She ruffled his hair. "I love you too."

xXx

Hermione Apparated to the alley next to Weasley's Enchanted Electronics and made her way up the rod iron staircase to the flat above the store. She knocked and waited.

Art's girlfriend Emma opened the purple door. "Professor?"

Hermione smiled. "I'm not anyone's teacher anymore Emma."

"Sorry, Hermione, habit."

"I know."

Emma stepped away from the door and gestured Hermione inside. "Come in. What brings you out?"

Hermione followed her into the parlor. "I need to speak to Art."

"About what?" Art appeared at the bedroom door, pulling on a T-shirt.

"Work," Hermione said grimly.

"Oh," Emma said. "So, it's a private conversation. I'll leave you to it then. She went into their bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Hermione flicked her wand at the closing door and said "Impreturb."

"That wasn't necessary," Art said, scowling. "Emma's not a snoop."

"No, but it's not a thick door," Hermione said.

"Fine, what's this about then?" he asked, irritated.

"To begin with, congratulations on making it through the first round of trials. That's very impressive."

"Thanks," Art said.

"Right," Hermione said. She stood there fiddling anxiously with her wand. She wondered briefly if Art and Emma had a bottle of Ogden's in the flat.

"Mum?" Art prompted. "What's this about?"

"Tomorrow at the Ministry will be all about safety."

"I know. They already told us that."

"Right," Hermione said. "What they didn't tell you is, that at the end of the lecture, you'll be going into a large room with an enormous Pensieve in it and there you'll be made to watch the memories of all the magical accidents the DoM has bottled.

"Oh," Art said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. "So, I guess that will include…"

Hermione sat on one of the wing chairs across from him. "Yes."

Art pushed his fingers back through his hair. "Shit."

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"Bloody hell, Mum."

"That's a fairly apt description of what you're going to see," she said grimly.

"Fuck," he hissed and ran a hand down his face. "I can't just skip that bit?"

"Thomas says no."

"So, this is Director Greene's decision."

Hermione shook her head. "Not entirely, no. The other Unspeakables as well as the Minister of Magic and the head of the Wizengamot also weigh in on what's included in the Pensieve."

"Didn't you say no?"

"I would have, had I been consulted, but I was excluded because you're in the trials. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. It's the worst accident in over a hundred years, of course, it'll be in the safety review."

"There's no way around it then?"

"No."

"Bloody hell," Art said again.

Hermione sighed. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I thought you loved your job," he said.

She sighed. "I love you. I love your father and our family and friends. I don't love my job and based on today, it doesn't love me either."

He frowned at her. "You know what I mean."

"I do and yes, it's compelling, but also problematic. I just want you to be sure this is what you want."

Art pushed his fingers back through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath. "Well, you have set a high bar."

"But I haven't," his mother argued. "There is no bar. You walk your own path."

"Oh, please," Art scoffed. "There is so a bar. You have no idea what it's like to be your son. At every turn there are comparisons."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Chase me. It's not a competition."

"Of course, you think that, you've already made your place in the world. It looks far different from where I am," he said, scowling.

Hermione sighed. "Do what you like but do it because you want to do it and not because you think it's what I expect or what other people expect. My path to this job was very different from yours."

"Yes, I know. Everyone knows. Life in the shadow of the Golden Trio isn't exactly a picnic. Just ask Clive and Devin."

Hermione frowned at him. "Being in the Golden Trio is no picnic either. But it's not as though any of us knew that ahead of time. I didn't know what my life would be like because I made friends with Ron and Harry. Just like I didn't know what your life would be like when I had you. We make the choices we make and then events happen around us and we react to them. That's life: you do what you can and then roll with the things you can't control."

Art frowned at her. "That's a very different tune from the one you used to sing."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"You used to go on quite a bit about choices and making good decisions and thoughtful living. Now what? You just roll with it?"

Hermione chuckled. "Yes. Sometimes you just roll with it, because while making thoughtful decisions is always a smart move when you have a choice, you don't always have a choice. I'm afraid you're going to see that played out rather graphically tomorrow."

Art leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair again. "I don't want to see it."

She sighed. "Me either, but it looks like we're going to."

"What?" Art said, clearly appalled. "They're making you watch too?"

"It's an all-hands meeting for safety this year to review and debrief the accident."

Art shook his head. "And they won't let you out of it?"

"They said I didn't have to watch, but I'm obviously a critical part of the debriefing, so I think I'm going to."

Art looked horrified.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I should go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Art nodded numbly and she saw herself out.

xXx

Thomas delivered the safety lecture for the Department of Mysteries and Hermione thought it was the least dry lecture she'd heard on the subject in the last two decades. When it became apparent that he was coming to the end of his speech, she could feel her hands start to sweat, her chest tighten, and her mouth go dry. She watched Art walk out of the room with the other remaining recruit followed by the Unspeakables in order of seniority youngest to oldest. She and Thomas weren't the oldest Unspeakables but as Director and Assistant Director they were last out of the room.

Thomas paused at the door. "Are you sure you want to do this? We could just meet you back here for the debriefing."

Hermione frowned at him. "Of course, I don't want to do this? Do you?"

He shook his head. "Right. Come on then."

They went down the black tiled corridor to a vast room with a Pensieve large enough for thirty people to stick their heads in at the same time. All around the enormous, shallow, stone basin was a cushioned kneeler. Hermione knelt next to Thomas. Across the room she could see Art kneeling, but he wouldn't look at her. She didn't blame him. Just being in the room was hard enough. Thomas announced the first memory, an incident from four hundred years ago.

They looked at fifteen memories before it was time to view her accident. She was already exhausted and distressed as she looked around at the faces of everyone else in the room and could see they felt the same. Despite the fact that she'd seen the other memories before, none of them were easy to watch. All the accidents were horrific and some resulted in gruesome deaths, but none of the people in those memories were in the room. She looked at the two young Unspeakables that had cast the spell that lead to her accident. They both looked rather green. She knew how they felt. She didn't look at Art. She couldn't and get through the next few minutes.

Grim faced, Thomas said, "And now we're at our final memory for the day. As most of you know, this is an incident that happened at the end of last year. Two of our members submitted a proposal to cast an enhancing circle for another spell they were constructing. The proposal was reviewed and approved, but during the execution two runes were transposed: the rune for wind and the rune for fire." A disturbed murmur ran through the group. Thomas produced the bottled memories. "This is an amalgamated memory from three of the people involved." He tipped the silvery liquid into the Pensieve. "Faces in."

Everyone leaned forward and dipped their faces into the stone basin.

xXx

The memory started out benignly enough. The two young Unspeakables were drawing a glowing circle on the stone floor with their wands. When they were done, Hermione stuck her head in the door.

"I'm going to pop out for lunch. I'll be back."

"Alright," one of the young men said. "We're about to start casting."

Hermione glanced at the circle on the floor. "Sounds good." She closed the door behind her and the two wizards raised their wands.

Less than a minute later the door was yanked open and Hermione shouted, "Stop!" but it was too late. They had finished casting the spell. The floor in the middle of the circle began to buckle.

"What the hell?" one of the wizards said.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. She pulled her wand and threw herself into the circle. She cast a shield charm and it covered the circle with a shimmering dome. Inside, she could be seen casting spell after spell. At first, she seemed to have it under control, but then the floor burst up and into the shield. It wasn't flame that buckled the floor and pressed her against her own shield but pure magic. Her body seemed to absorb it all but then it blew out of her, shattering her wand, and then tearing through her scars, her mouth, her ears, every available exit, but the shield held. The younger wizards had the presence of mind to draw their own wands and were reinforcing Hermione's shield to keep the raw magic from blowing through the entire department, but the effort over taped them and they both Spliffed and fell unconscious. Finally, the shield collapsed and Hermione dropped in a bloody heap to the floor. The resulting shock wave alerted the rest of the department. Thomas was the first on the scene. He shouted Hermione's name and dropped to his knees next to her. He cradled her in his arms and shouted to the witch behind him, "Get those two to St. Mungo's." With that he Disapparated with Hermione.

The memory ended and everyone pulled their faces out of the water. They all continued kneeling there in stunned silence.

Thomas cleared his throat. "There will be a debriefing in the conference room in ten minutes."

There was a palpable sense of relief as people began to exit the room. Finally, only Art, Thomas, and Hermione were left. Hermione stood and straightened her robes. She looked at Thomas. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"No need," Thomas said. "Just doing my job."

Hermione hugged him. "You saved my life."

"You saved mine and everyone else's first."

She smiled. "Including my own."

"Right," Thomas said, smiling back. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Hermione nodded. Art was walking around the Pensieve toward her. Thomas closed the door behind him as he left the room.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked Art. He shook his head. She held out her arms and he leaned down and hugged her. He was an inch taller than Ron now but he tucked his face into the crook of her neck as he'd down as a child.

"Oh, Mum," he cried.

"My beautiful boy," she whispered and held him for a long moment.

He stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve. "I knew it would be awful. I didn't expect it to be that awful."

She stroked his cheek with her fingers. "I know, but I'm alright now."

He nodded. "But still, that was rough."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll watch it again next year," she said.

"Do you think they'll make me?"

"So sure you're going to make it all the way, are you?"

He gave her a cheeky grin. "I am your son."

She snorted softly. "Right. Well, I'll see what I can do about seeing that neither of us have to watch it again."

"Thanks, Mum."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off. "You should get in there. I'll be along in a moment."

When Art had closed the door behind him, Hermione sat down hard on one of the kneelers. A shiver ran through her and she leaned forward with her head between her knees and breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth until she could calm down. Despite knowing what had happened, she had been unprepared to see herself come that close to death. Somehow it was worse to watch it from someone else's point of view. When she could, she stood and smoothed her robes before walking into the conference room. She took her seat at the head table between Thomas and one of the young wizard's who'd drawn the circle that had led to the accident. He looked away when she sat down. On the other side of him the other wizard who'd been involved had his head down.

Thomas gave her a sympathetic look before taking the podium.

He spoke briefly about what they'd all just seen and then asked if there were any questions for Hermione or the other two wizards. Every hand in the room shot into the air except for Art's. He sat hollow-eyed at the back of the room.

Thomas called on Ellis, the oldest witch in the room. She stood and said in a clear voice, "Once you cast the shield you continued casting spells beneath it. What spells were those?"

Hermione took the podium and cleared her throat. "I cast several spells to stop the fire and control the heat, a dowsing spell, a cooling charm, and a freezing charm. After that, I cast Protego and Impervious on myself." The old witch nodded. She muttered, "Very clever," as she sat down.

Thomas called on a young wizard next. He stood and said, "So you controlled the fire then?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but not the magic. It was an enhancing circle. I was able to convert the conflagration back to pure magic but there was nowhere for that all that magic to go except into me because of the shield I'd cast over the circle."

"Ah," the young wizard said and sat down.

Hermione swallowed hard and waited.

Thomas called on the next Unspeakable, a young witch. "Why didn't Protego and Impervious protect you?" she asked.

"They did," Hermione said quietly. "Or I wouldn't be standing here."

"But the magic blew through you," the witch said.

"Right, along easy paths. Had I not cast Protego and Impervious, it simply would have blown me to bits. The spells maintained my physical integrity as well as they could. My wand didn't have the same coverage and you saw what happened to it."

The witch nodded in understanding and sat down.

The next few questions were for the wizards who'd drawn the initial circle. They took a beating for the cockup, but in the end the whole thing was just a typo.

When all the pertinent questions had been asked and people were just starting to pile on, Thomas called an end to it and sent everyone home.

xXx

When Ron arrived home that night he found Hermione in the parlor sitting on the sofa with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her hands. She was staring at a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey that was on the coffee table.

"Hullo luv," Ron ventured.

"Hi," Hermione said, her eyes not leaving the bottle.

"I take it your day was as rough as you thought it would be," he said.

"Rougher," she replied.

"Thinking of having a drink, are you?" Ron asked as he sat down in one of the wing chairs.

"No. I'm thinking of having the whole bottle or as much as I can down until I pass out."

"That doesn't seem like a good plan," he said.

"I know. That's why I've been staring at this bottle for over an hour."

"Right," Ron said, nodding.

"I'm lucky to be alive," Hermione said.

"Yes, you are."

"Why can't I just appreciate that? Why did I go buy whiskey?"

Ron sighed and stroked his beard. "I reckon you can be grateful and still have a day rough enough to send you running for the bottle. Do you want to drink that?"

"No, but I don't want to be sober either."

Ron nodded. "I know that feeling."

She looked at him. "I know you do. Winky?" The little elf appeared. "Could you take that bottle of fire whiskey and pour it down the drain?"

"Yes, Miss." Winky said. She and the bottle both disappeared.

"Good call," Ron said.

"Thanks. I'll likely buy another one tomorrow," Hermione said.

Ron shrugged. "Lucky for you, I've got money to burn. Pour all the whiskey you want down the drain."

"And if it doesn't all go down the drain?"

Ron shrugged again. "Then we'll dry you out and start again. We've done it before."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I don't want to do it again."

"Me neither, but we can if we have to."

She nodded and reached for his hand without opening her eyes.

He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "You're going to be okay."

There was a knock on the front door.

Ron groaned and stood. "If this is Viktor with more mementos from your time together—"

Hermione snorted. "Stop it."

Ron chuckled and went to see who was at the door.

Art and Emma were standing on the front stoop.

"Why didn't you just Apparate into the kitchen?" Ron asked as he ushered them in.

"Because Mum's had an awful day. I never know how you two are going to handle that and I've been traumatized enough today," Art said dryly.

Ron paused for a moment and then said, "Yeah, that's fair." Art was holding a small box in his hand. "What have you got there?"

"A gift for Mum. I was going to bring flowers, but…I don't know…and wine was out, so…" He held up the box.

"Right," Ron said. "Come through, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. It seems like the sort of evening for family."

"That's what I thought," Art said as he and Emma followed Ron into the parlor.

Hermione stood and hugged them both.

Art held the box out to his mother. "I thought you needed this."

Hermione was surprised he'd shown up with a present. She opened the box to find a folded black T-shirt.

"I think you should skip the formal robes at work from now on," Art said. "And wear this shirt and jeans instead."

She set the box down and pulled the shirt out. On the front in white lettering in a gothic font was written 'Badass Witch.' She laughed.

Ron did too. "I think that's the perfect work shirt."

"I don't think Thomas would approve," Hermione said smiling.

"Oh, please," Art said. "After what you've done, you could show up barefoot in sackcloth and no one would say a thing. Besides, there's that old guy who's in his pajamas most of the time."

"He's a hundred and forty-five years old and still actively engaged in projects. He can wear what he likes," Hermione said.

"The Department of Mysteries sounds completely mental," Emma said. "You know that, right?"

"It's not as weird as it sounds," Hermione said.

"No," Ron said. "It's weirder. Come on, let's see if Winky will make us dinner."