Hermione on Holiday
Chapter 7 The Choice
Still kneeling on the floor of the stable, Hermione looked up at the faces of the Aurors. There were some Aurors who were friends and allies, and might give her a sympathetic hearing: Nymphadora Tonks, and Mad-Eye Moody. But she didn't recognize any of these three.
She rejected the temptation to fight her away out of the situation. Her wand was at home. Even if she had it, she doubted that she was a match for three Aurors. She had learnt self-defence from Harry, but these were professionals with a lot of training, and even the permission to use ordinarily taboo spells like the Imperius curse, if somebody pressed them too far. Hermione wouldn't.
Behind the Aurors themselves was the authority of the Ministry for Magic. Now that Fudge was out of power and Umbridge had been demoted, she had to respect the Ministry as the lawful wizard government. That didn't make anything any easier.
"What do you plan to do?" she asked.
"We will put an Obliviate spell on the Muggle. When he awakes, he will not remember anything about a strange girl who claimed to be a witch."
"No! Please! Let George remember me!"
"You need to focus on your own situation, Miss. Violating the Statute of Secrecy is a serious matter. You must come with us."
"NO," boomed a fourth voice. "Let me handle this."
Hermione turned to find a rather dignified wizard, beardless but with long flowing hair -- lionlike, not girlish.
"Minister Scrimgeour!" exclaimed one of the Aurors. "Sir, this is a fairly routine—"
"I'll judge that. Last year the wizard judiciary system made fools of themselves, over-reacting in the Harry Potter case. I don't want to repeat their mistake. Concentrate on the boy, and let me deal with Miss Granger myself."
"Yes, Minister."
"Phew, it stinks in here. Hold my arm, Miss Granger, and I'll Apparate you out to my office."
Realizing that there was nothing she could do here, Hermione took the arm of the Minister for Magic. There followed a dizzying moment during which they seemed to be whirling around a fourth dimension, then she found herself in an ornate office.
"I thought we were going to the Ministry," Hermione said, looking around.
"This is a spare office that I use during emergencies," said the Minister for Magic. "At the Ministry we'd have to go through the gauntlet of the phone booth, main hall, and lift with lots of officials watching. I wanted to spare you that, Miss Granger. You're upset, and naturally so. Please sit down. Would you like tea? Or something stronger, like butterbeer?"
She gave her choice and he waved his wand. A cup of tea appeared in front of her and she took it.
He sat behind an impressive desk, and Hermione took a chair on the other side and sipped on the tea, noticing it was exactly as she liked it. Physically, she was comfortable. Mentally, she was in turmoil.
"I'll have the secrecy-violation charges dismissed," said Scrimgeour. "As the Minister for Magic, I have that authority, and we owe you that much for catching the Death Eaters last spring. But we want some assurance that this won't happen again."
Hermione was scarcely listening. "You can have George's memory restored, can't you sir?"
"Magically, it's possible, but it would not be a good idea."
"Why not? George is a nice boy, harmless. He resented my lying to him, but he would never hurt us."
"Yes he might let the secret slip to others, as you did. It's better to plug potential leaks at the origin."
"Why is it so important to keep it secret, sir?"
"Muggles fear people who are different, particular when the difference includes possession of special powers. It was bad enough in the Middle Ages, when we were accused of deriving our powers from the devil. But in the 1700s, the age of Newton and the founding of the Royal Society, it was possible that Muggles might investigate the matter scientifically and start to realize that we were a hereditary group. As a group we would be perceived as far more dangerous. It was better to disappear and let Muggles think that we had been a medieval superstition."
"But that was 300 years ago!" protested Hermione
"Muggles still fear people who are different. In Germany 50 years ago—"
"Those were Nazis! This is the United Kingdom, a civilized democracy."
"Democracy is based on certain assumptions. 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal' – do you recognize the phrase?"
"The American Declaration of Independence."
"Good, you have a fine grasp of Muggle history, Miss Granger. Well, you are Muggle-born after all, but that's not the point. The problem is that we were NOT created equal. We have special powers that ordinary human beings do not. Can democracy handle a class that is permanently separate and superior? I would prefer not to try the experiment."
"Wizards aren't that superior! Muggles have things we don't. Telephones, aeroplanes, computers. Right now they're inventing something called the Internet. A lot of power just by pushing a button. What have we got? Owls, broomsticks, quills!"
"Yes, the lack of magic has inspired Muggles to be inventive in other ways. But they are still likely to resent somebody who can harness great power by the waving of a wand."
Hermione sighed. She was, in the eyes of the Ministry, a mere schoolgirl; she was unlikely to talk him out of ingrained attitudes that he may have developed years ago. "Can't you at least make an exception for George and me, and let us stay together?"
"Do you love him?"
"I – I don't know."
Scrimgeour fell silent for a long period. "There is an alternative. But I'd hate to suggest it."
"What?"
"We could alter YOUR memory. Remove your memories of being a witch. You would still have magical abilities, of course, but you would not be conscious of them or know how to use them. After that, it would be safe to erase just the boy's memory of today's accident, and you two will be safe together, just two Muggles. Of course we would not do that without your permission."
"You're joking!"
"This isn't a laughing matter, Miss Granger. I told you that I hated the idea. You're one of the most promising witches of your generation, and I can foresee a great future for you in our culture. But you have a choice, Miss Granger. Think about it for the remainder of the holidays. Live as a Muggle or stay a witch?"
So they had come right down to the question: what did Hermione want to do with her future? Commit to the Wizard World, or be a Muggle?
Picking Muggledom would mean giving up Harry, Ron, Hagrid, dozens of others, all for the sake of a boy she had known for a couple of weeks. She thought she loved George Hanover, but was it any more than a crush?
Picking Muggledom would also mean that Harry, Ron, and a few other friends would have to fight Voldemort without her help. And the elves would be left without a spokeswoman. Or was she over-valuing how much she mattered in the Wizard World?
Picking Muggledom would mean that the last five years of her life were one immense cul-de-sac, not even something to be remembered. The search for the Philosopher's Stone, trying to catch the Basilisk, the rescue of Sirius, standing up to Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy – all meaningless.
"I've decided now. I'll be a witch – and – and – never see George again." Her heart broke a little and she forced away a tear that wanted to break free.
"Good decision. It's for the best, Miss Granger. Do you want us to Apparate you back to the stables?"
"No! I don't want to be reminded. Just take me home."
"Very well. We'll invent a cover story, take care of returning your horse, and all that. Don't worry about that."
"That's not what I will worry about."
-------
The escort left her once she reached the front door. As Hermione walked in, she heard her mother doing some chores in the kitchen.
"Minnie? You're home early! I thought you were going horse-riding with your boyfriend," came Mum's voice.
"We – we had a fight, Mum – I don't want to talk about it." Hermione dashed up the stairs, run into her bedroom, and threw herself on the bed to cry. Home had at least one advantage over Hogwarts: she had a room of her own, and she could be miserable in privacy, instead of having Ginny Weasley or some other well-meaning roommate hovering over her trying to comfort her.
There should have been a third way, she thought. She should have been able to argue, that human beings were basically decent, that it was possible for wizards and Muggles to live together, if they only worked at it. But she hadn't been able to verbalize it, and certainly the Minister for Magic would not have thought of it. Voldemort had already corrupted everybody to that extent, that it was difficult to be optimistic, to think hopeful thoughts. So George Hanover would be hexed into forgetting that Hermione existed, and Hermione would have to do her best to forget what had been a lovely summer interlude.
Picking up her wand, she zapped the magic polo balls into non-existence. She would never need them again. Using that destructive spell might be illegal, but the Minister would appreciate the symbolic gesture.
And she decided to give up horses for the rest of the summer. Get in a saddle, and it would be an instant reminder of her loss. And if she was committed to being a witch, there was no point in learning more about computers.
She swore that she would do her best to bring down Voldemort. She resolved that, after that, she would do her best to get the elves liberated from their bondage.
Then, perhaps, today's sacrifice would be justified.
THE END