Author's Note: Man I just like to string you guys along... :)
Chapter 15
April 2000
Hermione was busy at work when a scarlet interdepartmental paper airplane whizzed into her office and landed on her desk.
"Is it about the troll proposal?" one of her co-workers asked eagerly. Hermione just smirked and shook her head as she read the request from Kingsley to meet after normal hours that evening. "No, unfortunately not. Just a sort of personal request," she said and left it at that. She liked the people she worked with, but she didn't need them to know all of her business. Hermione wrote her reply that she'd meet in Kingsley's office at six that evening. With a wave of her wand, the paper folded back up and zipped from the room.
At six on the dot, Hermione entered the office of the Minister of Magic and sat across from him at his desk. "Going to quiz me on safety exits?" she asked with a laugh.
"No, Hermione, I think you've learned them quite well. As a matter of fact, I think you're ready to take the visit you've been requesting."
Both of Hermione's eyebrows raised so high they nearly met her hairline. "You're going to let me go?" she practically squeaked, clearing her throat immediately. "I mean, yes! I'm ready! I want to go. When?"
"In a week's time," Kingsley replied calmly, reviewing a piece of parchment before him. "You'll be making the journey during normal working hours. You won't tell a soul. I've sworn a couple of Aurors to secrecy. They're going to escort you since in general travel to Azkaban is not safe. The dementor's already have orders to bring you to Draco's cell. You will be allowed your wand and will have a half hours time to discuss the points we've gone over in the past few weeks. You will cast a patronus when you arrive since a dementor will be observing in case Mr. Malfoy, well, snaps. You must focus on the task at hand, Hermione, again as we have discussed. You want closure from Draco and you want to inform him that the spell he thinks is invincible is slowly breaking. Focus, keep your patronus strong, and you should be fine." He set the piece of parchment he was referring to back onto his desk and looked up at Hermione who had been listening intently.
Hermione took a deep breath in, digesting the news she had just received. She reached into the pocket of her robes and removed the remembrall that Ron had given her in an effort to get her to remember who he was. She held it in her hand and cardinal red swirls of smoke, not nearly as dark as when she first received the ball, engulfed the small glass orb. "Ron gave this to me two months after the accident. He apparated into my flat one night and left it for me. It was much darker back then," she said, referring to the intensity of color of the smoke inside. She held it up so Kingsley could see it closer. "You know, Neville Longbottom would always get these from his grandmother while we were at school. He was the only one I can remember ever actually having one. His never changed color." She looked up so her eyes met Kingsley's. "Mine does. When I remember things, you can see these wisps of white smoke flash around in there before mixing with the red and dulling its intensity. It knows what I'm trying to remember, and it's tracking my progress." She let out a soft laugh and shook her head. "And I thought these things were bogus."
"Remembrall's are interesting pieces of magic, Hermione. Most people believe that you're always forgetting something and therefore the smoke inside will always be red. But if its possessor knows what they are forgetting, in a sense, it actually works quite clear. For example, if a student was trying to remember the twelve uses for dragon's blood, they could hold the device in their hand and recite the uses. Upon reciting the twelfth correctly, the smoke inside would be a pristine white. So many people fail to realize its true use that it's gotten quite a bad reputation as a joke."
Hermione smiled, looking again at the remembrall in her hand, more determined than ever to see the pristine whiteness of the smoke inside. Hell, she'd settle for a dull pink.
A week later, she and Ron were having breakfast in her flat before work. Hermione had not spoken a word to him about the trip she'd be making that day. If she did, she probably wouldn't be able to go. If Ron knew, he'd surely do anything possible to make sure she didn't go.
"Busy day ahead," he murmured with his mouth full as he scanned an article about the last round of Quidditch games in the Daily Prophet. "We'll have lunch, though, as usual."
Hermione wasn't really listening to a word he said, her mind was focused already on the tasks of the day. "Mmhmm," she murmured before getting up to clear their plates. "We should go." Ron agreed and they both took the floo one after the other to work. As usual, Ron walked with Hermione to her office, which made her extremely nervous today. Two of Ron's co-worker's would be taking her to Azkaban today and she didn't want them to run into each other because Ron would surely inquire as to why they were there. She let out the breath she was unknowingly holding when they rounded the corner to the hallway leading to her department and there were no Auror's standing guard waiting for her. They made it to her office unscathed and he ducked down to give her his usual goodbye morning kiss.
"See you later," he smiled and she forced a smile back. She watched him walk back down the hall and nearly collide with two Auror's as all three of them tried to take the corner at once. She saw the odd questioning look on Ron's face before it disappeared around the corner.
"Miss Granger," one of the men spoke. "We're scheduled to leave in ten minutes."
Hermione nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm ready." She swallowed hard and took a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart. Suddenly a million doubts rushed into her mind. What if the trip itself was too dangerous and she didn't even make it to Azkaban? What if she got hurt during the travel? What if the dementor's had an uproar and attacked her? What if Draco attacked her? What if she tripped and fell and hit her head and the dementor's put her in a cell until she died? This was a horrible idea, a stupid idiotic idea. What could possibly make her want to do this? Her hand instinctively went to her throat and her fingers wrapped around the locket that sat beneath her robes. Her racing heart settled and she remembered why she was doing this. "I'm ready," she repeated.