Hermione scrubbed her hands through her hair over and over viciously. The lavender scent hit her nose, but she kept going until the bubbles were sliding down her back in waves, following the curls to where they ended, and kept going, each movement of her hands through her hair making more and more bubbles. It all needed to go.
It was like someone had dipped her head-first into a puddle of mud. She felt dirty, no matter how many times she cleaned her hair or scrubbed her skin pink. The verdict had come in via owl.
This Wizengamot finds Hermione Jean Granger, age 18, guilty of all charges accused of. The Wizengamot finds the defendant unworthy of Azkaban, but is instead offered 31 days to reverse the magic used on Monica and Wendell Wilkins successfully. The Wizengamot recognises that these are the defendant's parents and that the actions taken were that of defence and protection.
Steam rose from the shower, filling the room with mist. It curled around the sink, holding it, and covered the mirror.
How was she meant to find her parents in Australia and restore their memories in under a month?
Sitting on the floor of the shower, Hermione let herself think. When she had performed the spell on her parents, she hadn't realised she would be walking out of the war alive, let alone her and her parents. The things she had seen happen to muggle-born's parents in the prophet frightened her, no matter how many times Ron and Ginny had owled her, telling her the order would help her. She knew that if it came down to it, the order would have to stop defending her parents to defend themselves. She didn't know what had frightened her more. The concept of her parents never recognising her again, or her parents being dead.
Hermione limply turned off the tap, and with newly scrubbed, bright pink skin, she exited the bathroom and got changed, but still feeling as muddy as Draco had told her her bloodline was.
Draco stared at the newspaper in front of him in disbelief, the paper shaking in his hands. The moving pictures confirmed the newspaper article's suspicions and cleared up any doubt that Draco may have had that his father was behind it.
Just when the world thinks that we are safe from the Dark Lord's reign, and back to our day-to-day lives, a break-in at Azkaban Prison puts the Ministry of Magic under the fire of the public, yet again.
Surveillance confirms suspicion of the last Death Eater, whom managed to escape from the war practically unharmed, breaking into the prison late last night, and breaking out one of his fellow Death Eaters, informally known as Yaxley. No one has spotted the pair since the break out was reported by one of the guards on duty, however it is suspected that they are on the run.
Ministry officials have been sent to Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry to interview Malfoy's son, Draco, who was also a part of the followers of the Dark Lord, to find his father's whereabouts. Another band of officials are being sent to Malfoy manor to inspect the mansion for any clues and also to interview the mother of Draco, Narcissa Malfoy.
A nationwide search has begun for the two wanted criminals. If you have any evidence or any knowledge that might be of help, see Gawain Robards, Head of the Aurors Office, or send an owl.
(Mugshots included to the side.)
"How dare he?" Draco spat out under his breath. "We're under enough fire as it is."
The paper was being scrunched under Draco's hands, which were curling into fists very fast. The hammering of the shower water against the floor of the bathroom stopped. A blanket of silence filled the dorms like ice.
Fiery eyes followed an oblivious girl from the bathroom into her room. Her mind seemed apart from her body as she made her way to her room at the pace of a snail. Draco didn't pay much mind to it, however, turning his gaze back to the paper.
Oh like hell those officials were going to try and accuse him of something else.
He'd like to see them try.
"Miss Granger! A word, if you will?" Professor McGonagall called out to Hermione as class was ending. She knew it was coming.
"Yes, professor?" Hermione answered, her eyes nervously watching people slowly leave the room. It was as though they slowed down on purpose.
"You have the verdict?" She said under her breath to Hermione, tilting her head inwards slightly so that the other students wouldn't hear her.
"Guilty. I have to find a way to find them and reverse it in 31 days," Hermione's exhaustion was evident, though her voice appeared strong.
McGonagall took a second to ponder upon this information. Hermione waited anxiously for what she was going to say. Time was passing like honey off the end of a spoon, which went to say stickily slowly.
"I have a proposition, but you're not going to like it." Hermione, at this point in time, was willing to try anything. Desperation was choking her like an iron fist around her neck. Her heart pounded faster at what McGonagall was going to say. She had tried coming up with things off the top of her head that might work, but still felt the urge to check her suspicions of the spell in the Library.
"I'll try anything." Hermione felt guilty of ridding herself of her parents. Who did she do it for? Herself or them? And were they hurting? She didn't know, and it killed her inside.
"Mister Malfoy is well-trained in memory charms and locks."
Darkness had fallen upon the castle, the forbidden forest no longer visible from the castle walls. The sun had fallen, and the moon had arose. The coldness of the winter was beginning to set in for the fall. Not yet cold enough to begin bundling up, but cold enough to feel it on your skin, like a breeze, but constant. The pitter patter of the first year's feet upon the cement floors echoed as they scurried to make curfew.
Hermione wasn't too bothered about curfew. She was on patrol duty around the castle. Before she could really start, she needed to drop off her library books to her room, the books piling almost over her head. Memory Charms with Gilderoy Lockheart was not in the mix, thankfully. All of his books had almost been banned since it leaked that he wasn't really the heroine in the stories and tales he told.
"You know that you can just levitate them, right?" Neville's voice broke out from behind Hermione as she began struggling up the stairs to her room.
Her books almost fell as she turned, eyes wide with alarm.
Neville walked quick-paced towards her, picking up the top few books and examining the covers. "Memory charms, huh?"
"Yeah," Hermione quickly thought. "They sounded interesting to me when Professor Flitwick brought them up today, so I thought I could do some light reading on them."
Neville's eyes widened. "I'd hate to see what you call heavy reading. Do you want some help carrying these back to your common room?"
"Please." The relief was evident on the young Witch's face. "I'm on patrol in a few minutes, so I have to be quick." Neville nodded as he carried a few more books.
As they reached the third floor, Hermione spoke up again. "I can take them from here. We're not really allowed other people in our common room."
Neville nodded in understanding. "I'll see you in the morning, then?"
Hermione nodded, leaning down a little to let Neville put the books back into her arms. She was going to do this without Malfoy's help. She could show McGonagall that she could be just as capable.
Neville walked away, and Hermione attempted to waddle to the common room in silence, her footsteps echoing off the walls.
Hermione thought to herself for a moment. What if McGonagall was right? Do I need Malfoy's help?
No, she was going to do it herself, and show McGonagall that she could. I don't need a pureblood's help.
Draco was seeing red, as he entered the common room, slamming the door loudly behind him, waking the sleeping witch on the floor.
"Wake the hell up!" He yelled at her, pushing her shoulders angrily.
"What?" She groaned, her hands setting on her wand securely. She was surrounded by books, school books and otherwise.
"Where the hell were you? I had to do patrol on my own! Do you know how much crap I had to put up with because you weren't there?" His vociferating voice seemed louder to her than it probably did to him. His feet were still aching from wandering the dungeon on his own.
"Crap!" Hermione shot up like a bullet. "I forgot."
"Yeah," Draco spat, "I think I noticed that!" He looked down on her with steely eyes, towering over her.
"Sorry," She said sincerely, getting out of the chair and meeting his eye. She returned the glare. "Shouldn't you be happy your air won't be contaminated by a mudblood?"
For some odd reason, Draco felt like telling her off for calling herself that, but fought back the urge. Instead, he huffed and stormed over to his room, his eyes still fixed into a glower. He slammed the door behind him with a bang.
"Stupid Granger," He muttered under his breath, pacing the room and tapping his wand on his leg.
That night seemed particularly bad for patrol. Many of the students were out of bed, wandering the halls and Draco had to take up the dungeons by himself. The lingering Slytherin students were waiting to get their hands on him. It was like they knew that he was going to be on patrol and caused as much trouble as they could.
Draco knew that he had lost the school's respect during the war, and lost all of his friends consequently. But when your parents are on one side and you've taken the dark mark, there's no turning back. Unless you want to end up dead, that is.
Regulus Black had done it, and see where it got him at Draco's age.
The morning's paper winked at him from where he was standing.
Hermione Granger, spotted in the ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Miss Granger, close friend to Harry Potter was spotted last night at the Ministry of Magic, around 11am. Miss Granger refused to answer all questions and was hurried away by none other than her Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.
Why was she at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? More on pg 3.
Well this was certainly interesting.