Disclaimer: Mr. H. Potter and the universe in which he resides belongs not to me, but to it's author J.K Rowling.
Chapter 5
August 3, 1998, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, London
The meeting has been set for 10 o'clock sharp. A rather vicious looking goblin is sitting across the table, staring at Hermione, Ron and Harry.
'So, I hear you have plans.' he says at last.
They all half-nod nervously.
'I rather think you should know our plan first. You three have quite a debt to pay.'
August 7, 1998, Great Eastern Highway near Boorabbin National Park, Australia
The sky is large in the Australian desert, stretching out endlessly above Hermione as she flies. She is following the road loosely, letting her mind wander without needing to pay too close attention to where she is going. She's cast a Disillusionment charm, and gotten her broom outfitted with one, as well.
She spots not a soul as she glides along. Her parents have agreed to let her stay with them for the time being.
'How are we even supposed to explain who you are? How are we to get our papers in order?'
'How did you forge our papers, anyway?'
'Where are our original passports? Are we even here legally, Hermione?'
Of course she had lied to Harry. Not about them being upset she'd done this, that wasn't it. But she hadn't known all one needs to know about muggle paperwork and about being an adult, and as such had made some blunders. She had been 17, and in spite of the dangers she had faced, living in a boarding school leaves one rather sheltered, after all.
'This isn't some witness protection Hollywood film, Hermione.' her father had scolded her.
So now, she would have to fix it. Luckily, this is the sort of thing the Ministry of Magic can help with, if one knows who to talk to. Relocating the Granger family seems prudent now that the the Wilkinses will cease to exist. There is a man she needs to see.
August 25 1998
'Well, Bellatrix. How are you settling in?' the Healer asks her.
She just stares at her. There is absolutely nothing to say.
'Alright, let's get started then. Can you recall for me a happy memory?'
She can indeed. I have just the thing to show you, you silly witch. She grins as she lets the Healer into her mind.
...
October 1997, Diagon Alley, London England
Bellatrix Apparates and lands decisively on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley for her first public shopping trip in a very long time. I suppose it must have been... 16 years? she muses. Her legs stretch and she can feel the wind on her face and the sun burning in her eyes as she makes her way through the dilapidated shopping area. The streets bear unmistakable signs of war, of despair. It will get better, once my Lord has some time. The future will be glorious. She smiles.
The elation she feels as she giddily strides up the street is not even slightly marred by the wandless people moaning and screaming at her. Despair hardly registers anymore. She kicks a man, hard, when he tries to grab her. His face bleeds, and she grins. It's a beautiful day, and she is free.
...
'Alright, that's... well. So, you're not settling in so well, then?'
She smiles her most poisonous smile.
July 27th 2002, Port Musgrave, Mapoon, Queensland, Australia
The harbour of Port Musgrave is a bustling wizarding area completely unknown to muggles. A small Aboriginal community exists here, but since long before their arrival, and before the arrival of the British, before even the Statute of Secrecy, this port has been a specifically magical area, founded by Aboriginal wizards. To the muggles, it appears as a shallow bay important mostly as a breeding area for saltwater crocodiles. To wizards, it is a vibrant harbour and a bustling town with renowned magical educational institutions and Australia's largest Portkey connecting point.
To Hermione, it is home. Ron and Harry have left again for Britain after a wonderful week together, and she still has another week before her next excursion will commence, so she is curled up in her favourite wing-backed chair preparing to read, for the first time, Madman at the door: A critical history of the British Wizarding War by Griselda Twiddleberk, eminent magical historian. It is thought, at least outside of Britain, to be a definitive volume on the subject, if the reviews are to be believed. Within Britain, people are rumbling about unflattering portrayals and the opening up of old wounds.
Hermione has been forwarded a complimentary copy of the text by the author herself, although Twiddleberk has preferred to work almost entirely from the Pensieve Depositions and older interviews for any information Hermione (and everyone else) might possess, and has only conducted a short interview regarding Hermione's feelings on the whole mess now rather than go into any depth of her past experience. She doesn't mind, really, but is curious to see how accurate Twiddleberks information truly is, and to perhaps catch a glimpse of her younger self viewed firmly through someone else's retrospect.
She has come to accept, after many visits back to Britain, that her involvement was instrumental and that she will figure fairly prominently in all histories of the matter. She's been forwarded copies of plenty of other histories of the war, and of her role in it, before. However, she has not had any interest in reading any of them, still busily trying to hold on to her ownership of a difficult past. Her experience should be, such as it is, her own. It should be uncoloured by the official accounts, she has always maintained.
Twiddleberk is, of course, a whole other matter. Hermione will not let this be the only text of hers that she does not read. She is also actually interested in Twiddleberks interpretation of the situation.
She runs her hands carefully across the cover, admiring the engraved symbol of the Hallows, flaming red against a black background where one can see, in the right light, a ring of the six Horcruxes surrounding it, engraved. It is ominous, but beautiful. The back cover has an angry golden slash shaped very much like a familiar lightning bolt scar.
She begins to read, scanning quickly through Twiddleberks' foreword wherein she explains her intention with the book (to shed light on a complex and oft misunderstood tragic political reality) and to discuss the implications. Some proceeds from the sale will be donated to St. Mungo's Hospital, Hermione is informed, and she smiles, remembering the kindly Healers who have provided so much help and relief to everyone she knows, herself included.
When she at last starts on the main text, she is indeed quite surprised at the portrayal she finds. It is hauntingly familiar, though she is jolted ever so often with information she never knew. It often throws her own memories into such a sharp new context that she becomes quite uncertain if she truly wants to read what Twiddleberk has to say about her exploits.
A sudden knock on the door interrupts Hermione, and as she flings herself toward the door she barely registers that already the cogs in her mind have started turning the situation around, preparing her for yet another set of nightmares. They have gotten more intermittent over the years, but they are still prominent enough that she has never had anyone sleep over and not comment, except fellow nightmare sufferers. When Harry, Ron or Ginny visit, they often stay up through the night, drinking butterbeer and quietly sharing memories. When she visits her parents they bring her tea and water in the middle of the night, and they sit with her, always looking worried and gaunt. They know now roughly what has happened, and their accusations of her rashness when concealing them have entirely subsided.
She flings open her front door, and is left speechless.
She is confronted, at this of all possible moments, with Andromeda Tonks towering in her doorway looking very much like her malevolent sister, and she is thrown so forcefully into her own history again as to almost slam the door in Andromeda's face.
'May I come in?' Andromeda inquires as Hermione steadies herself.
'Of course.' she answers after a beat, leaving the door open for her guest.
They settle quietly in the sitting room, Hermione in her chair and Andromeda on the sofa. Hermione summons tea. The noon sun is beating brightly against her windows, and Andromeda casts a silent spell that Hermione assumes is some sort of cooling charm.
'I haven't much time, so I'll just be direct. This isn't a social call.' Andromeda deadpans. 'I've come to offer you a job.'
'I... I already have a job.' Hermione hesitates. Andromeda snorts.
'Is that what you call it? Retrieving treasure for the goblins? Do you know how much an ordinary curse-breaker in this part of the world gets in wages? You're hardly to be considered an employee. You are merely paying a debt.'
She casts a scorning look at Hermione.
'A debt which, I might add, should have been paid in full by now.'
Hermione swallows, feeling her cheeks grow hot and her heart beating loudly in her ears.
'I... might have re-negotiated my agreement to include some... opportunities to secure my financial situation.'
Andromeda laughs.
'Oh, I know all about the agreement you have with them. Nevertheless, you have been fully trained for years, and this treasure hunting is useless now. You're needed at home, you see.'
Hermione finds she is almost speechless.
'Hermione, I am here to offer you a position in the Department of Mysteries effective immediately, should you choose to accept. You'd be trained as an Unspeakable. Continuing down the path of curse-breaking is of course not entirely optimal for you. You can be so much more! We've kept our eye on your progress, you see, and have decided to... requisition you. You've a keen mind for research. You've a keen mind for a lot of the things we do, in fact.'
'I... I didn't even know you worked for the Department of Mysteries.'
'I'm the Head of Department now, actually. No one knows apart from those who need to, as is customary, although I'm sure some have guessed. It's usually one of us old purebloods, you know, and one without the usual politics attached. You didn't think all those pureblood supremacists were protecting secrets of no importance, did you?'
This is such an entirely unexpected and intriguing confession that Hermione already knows she will accept the offer.
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