A/N: Thank you for the feedback! We're moving toward the heart of things now...
A wave of her hand ignited the fire and the flames leapt from the hearth in a familiar burst of warmth even as Minerva shivered.
Her office seemed impossibly quiet and as much as her body wished to return to her rooms and simply fall into the deepest depths of sleep to forget about her day, she could not.
"Albus?"
It was a quiet summons, but a summons nonetheless and Minerva looked up at the circle of portraits to find clear blue eyes gazing down at her solemnly. The surrounding portraits remained asleep… a few of them, such as Phineas and Severus, remaining conspicuously empty.
Minerva watched him for a moment, wondering again how such a powerful man could have left his legacy to her… before rounding her desk and sitting down with a not-so-subtle exhale of air. She closed her eyes against the wave of nausea that flooded through her.
"Shall I fetch Sylvie?"
"No, thank you. I have a potion awaiting in my chambers," she replied succinctly, taking a breath and crossing her legs carefully.
"I take it from your manner of dress that you went to see her this evening," Albus said softly, looking at her silken robes with a hint of sadness. Minerva fought the wave of nostalgia that rose at his comment and simply nodded. What a strange trio we were...
"I did."
"And? How is she?" Albus was watching her carefully, eyes briefly hidden by a sheen of his spectacles.
"Doing well. She has built a rather wonderful life for herself… I was pleased to hear of her work in both Athens and Thessaloniki, and though she will never admit it, it's clear she's garnered a rather impressive reputation for her Mastery curricula," Minerva shook her head and smiled lightly. "Indeed, it seems that Hermione is benefiting from her vast reservoirs of knowledge in a number of equally wonderful ways."
"Hermione?" The voice registered surprise.
"Miss Granger has grown into a lovely witch," Minerva said softly, amending the name even as her mind replayed the woman's charming laugh and the deep, soulful way she had grasped Diamantina at the end of the night.
That kiss...
"You do not have to conceal your feelings, Minerva. It's perfectly understandable," Albus said easily, shifting absently even as he fiddled with something outside of the portrait frame.
"How do you mean?" The question came out a bit more defensively than she would have liked.
"You have always harboured a soft spot for Hermione throughout the years, dear. I'm sure seeing her as an adult has shifted your perceptions of her. It's perfectly all right for you to view her in a different light," he replied, peering down at her over half-moon spectacles. Minerva fought the urge to scoff.
"That is beside the point, Albus," she replied tiredly, not wishing to engage in such foolish chatter. Her sternum ached. Carefully, Minerva took her memories of the young witch and shuttled them away into the organized chaos of her other thoughts.
"Is it?"
They let the statement hang in the air for a moment while Albus popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and Minerva rested her eyes. Without opening them, she sighed… letting her head fall backward to rest against the back of the chair.
"Do you really believe I need to reinstate the Order, Albus?" she asked quietly. It was little more than a whisper.
"Yes, Minerva."
She opened her eyes to see her friend watching her patiently, his expression a tired mix of resolution and defeat. He looked down at her seriously and Minerva felt her stomach swim with the weight of unmade choices.
"I shall consider it," she replied softly, already knowing that the die had already been cast.
"That's all I ask, Tabby."
With a tired wave of her hand, the lights went out.
Hermione was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with her hips even as her eyes gazed out the bay windows unseeingly.
Dia sighed internally, still berating herself for losing control of her emotions after dinner. This is the second time in two days, Diamantina. First with Ana, now with Hermione. This is unacceptable.
"Master?" The quiet plea tugged at her heart and she found herself turning.
"Yes, darling?"
"I apologize for upsetting you…" The statement was so soft that Dia had to strain to hear it, and abruptly she shielded the witch from the spiral of her own embarrassment.
Smiling instead, she crossed the kitchen and placed a reassuring hand on the witch's shoulder.
"There is nothing to apologize for, Hermione," Dia said honestly. "Your story and actions resonated more strongly than I had anticipated… you displayed immense bravery and foresight regarding the safety and protection of your parents. I can only imagine how difficult a decision it was to make and then carry out. I am incredibly happy that you found them and managed to restore all that was lost."
There was a long pause while Dia waited, unsure of what to make of the stormy emotions flooding the younger witch before her.
"Min…. Minerva explained some things to me," Hermione admitted quietly, caramel eyes suddenly fixing her with a penitent expression. Ah, Athena...
"I know, darling. I appreciate her consideration," Dia murmured, drawing the witch into a gentle embrace. Though she was a bit shorter than Hermione, their bodies fit together comfortably… resting against one another in a shared moment of warmth.
She sighed softly.
"It is I who should be sorry, my darling… there are parts of my life for which I have yet to find resolution. It is not your fault that they reassert themselves from time to time."
The younger witch shifted and Dia looked down to see a honey-colored hand gently take her darker one. A glance upwards found her apprentice's brow furrowed in concentration as she rubbed small circles on Dia's palm. The sensation was pleasant.
"I know that you know that I came here to escape from my past…" Hermione began, her voice little more than a whisper. "I just… Thank you for allowing me my privacy."
Rather than respond to the curious statement nor delve into a different conversation that was perhaps too potent for the evening, Dia simply squeezed Hermione's hand gently.
"I am always here should you wish to talk about it, Hermione." She drew the hand up to her lips and pressed a light kiss on the back of tanned knuckles and looked up to see caramel eyes gazing at her through a sea of unshed tears.
"Always."
"Minister, might I have a word?"
Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up from a report to see Sturgis Podmore standing in his doorway, features inscrutable in the dying light of the candles.
"Sturgis!" He called in surprise. "Come in, come in…"
He waved the man over even as he scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly realizing just how long he had been staring at the sheaf of parchments before him. Squinting at the clock he bit back his surprise.
"Is it close to ten-thirty already? What in Merlin's name are you still doing here anyway, Podmore? Maria will have my head if she thinks I've been keeping you here on overtime," he chuckled.
The blond wizard fixed him with an serious expression and Kingsley felt the good-natured smile dissolve from his face. He furrowed a brow as the tall man sat forward, an almost paranoid expression crossing his features.
"Kingsley… I need to talk to you," Sturgis' voice was low, and his hands, briefly steepled on the tops of his knees opened into a beseeching gesture. Kingsley frowned.
"What's happening, my friend? You look like you've seen a ghost." The light joke fell flat as Sturgis winced and looked around the room.
"Is your office secure?" At that Kingsley sat back, fixing his friend with a concerned expression even as he felt the atmosphere draw in upon them with a weight that he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Why would you ask such a thing?"
"Is it secure?" Sturgis sat forward, his eyes wide and the last word came out as a hiss. Kingsley felt his temper rise slightly, tired beyond all belief and irritated by his friend's apparently random burst of paranoia.
"Yes! Gods, man… of course it's secure! I have Aurors sweeping my office three time a day. I inspect it myself after every check," he said vehemently, tossing a hand in Sturgis' direction. Fluffing his robes, he took a breath.
At his outburst, the wizard fell back in his chair… running a heavy hand over his face as he fixed Kingsley with a sorrowful expression, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Merlin, forgive me…" he murmured. Before Kingsley could ask, Sturgis sat forward again, appearing to take a deep breath.
"Kingsley… how long have we known each other?" he asked quietly.
"Over thirty years, my friend. But what does-"
"Have you ever known me to make light of something serious?"
Kingsley's brow furrowed. His friend's typically cheerful blue gaze was solemn.
"No," he answered slowly. "I have not."
"Then I need you to trust me on this, my friend… I… don't know who I can turn to." Kingsley caught the subtle waver in his friend's resonant tones and unexpectedly it caused a tremor of fear within him. Sturgis was leaning forward again, running a tense hand through thick blond hair… looking like a picture of defeat.
"What is happening, Sturgis?" Kingsley asked quietly. He had never seen his friend so bent out of shape. Not since the height of the War.
"I… have reason to believe that there are people within the Ministry who are tied to the international violations that happened earlier this week," he stated softly. Kingsley stilled.
"How do you mean?" Kingsley's voice was dangerously low. Sturgis pinned him with a meaningful look, but he simply shook his head and repeated himself. "How. Do. You. Mean?"
This was no small accusation and the wizard across from him knew it.
Following the War, Kingsley had vetted every single employee in the Ministry of Magic.
Every. Single. One.
It had taken months of inquiry. Bottles of Veritaserum. The Wizengamot had run themselves ragged and the Minister's office had fielded harsh criticism from the press, public, within, as everyone tried to wrap their minds around a complete overhaul of the Ministry's internal structures and systems.
The Daily Prophet had condemned him as a harbinger of the end of democracy. There had been protesters lining the Floo Entrances for months until finally he had to decree that all guests were required to submit their formal agenda with aides upon arrival. It had been a nightmare.
The trials had taken their toll on everyone, but miraculously, his insane plan had worked. It worked. The final reports had just been submitted a month previous and for the first time in months… years… decades, perhaps... everyone had breathed easier at realizing that they had managed to rebuild a broken system.
Not rebuild… he thought absently. That was still in process. Validate everyone's belief in a clean Ministry that existed for the good of the people, whose actions and responses would be a clear nod to the path of Light.
And now?
Kingsley sat forward, attempting to reign in his anger and emotions even as Sturgis continued to shake his head.
"I know. I know, Kingsley." At once his friend was standing, pacing behind the two chairs on the other side of the desk, both hands coming to rake through his hair.
"Don't you think I've considered how this looks? My gods, man… we've just put the overhaul to rest. I've wracked my brain for the last two days, but I just can't come up with any sort of explanation that isn't essentially… well, Dark."
"Sturgis. What is it that you think you know?" Kingsley asked patiently.
"Someone created several unauthorized copies of the Ministry's Economic and Defense outlines. Details about the Floo Network, Emergency Anti-Apparition nets, Oblivating procedures, even a number of personnel records… Everything. I have record that the copies were made late on Monday night, but I don't know where they are, Kingsley."
Sturgis stopped and stared at him, one hand extended… his entire posture begging Kingsley to understand. And Merlin, did he.
"Who else knows?" Kingsley asked in a level voice. Let's take this one step at time.
"No one," Sturgis replied after a moment. His blue gaze dropped as he quickly returned to his original seat with a defeated huff. "Just me and whoever is responsible."
"Sturgis… I have to ask. How were you made aware of this?" Kingsley lifted an eyebrow even as his friend gave him a bewildered look.
"I came in early on Tuesday morning. Maria's been gone all week visiting her brother, so without her to prepare breakfast, I've just been grabbing coffee and picking something up on the way," Sturgis gave a mirthless chuckle before sitting forward and walking through his morning with clear gestures.
"When I came into the office… I noticed that a number of files were askew. They're in an area that we haven't touched in awhile, so I went to fix them out of curiosity," the wizard's lips twisted into a wry sort of grimace. "I don't know what made me think to do it, but I just felt an instinct. So I cast a quick diagnostic charm… and there it was. The evidence."
The man sighed heavily before looking at Kingsley again. "Those were just a few files. But it made me wonder... So then I opened more files. Same thing. More. Same thing. Whoever did this managed to copy more than five-hundred official documents without setting off the alarms. Which means, it's-"
"Someone on the inside," Kingsley finished.
"Someone high up on the inside," Sturgis amended.
This was… beyond bad. While Kingsley didn't recall the particulars of the exact files mentioned, it was clear that whomever had created copies was looking for a broad range of information regarding the Ministry's operating systems. The Auror side in him was already calculating the odds of intel... in the wrong hands, the entire Ministry could be left defenseless, their own procedures, spellwork, systems used against them.
"I have my suspicions on who it could be, but… there's nothing concrete. Nothing to trace an identity," Sturgis said defeatedly.
At once, Kingsley was irate. Shaking his head he swore through gritted teeth and then dropped a heavy hand on the desk, causing his friend to jump.
"This is not the time, Sturgis!" he hissed, even as the man pulled back in surprise.
Feeling a brief pang of guilt, Kingsley quickly glance toward the door, suddenly fearful of prying eyes. With a wave of his wand he swore the portraits to secrecy, even as he saw Phineas start unpleasantly and pin him with a murderous glare. He'll get over it.
Leaning forward, Kingsley felt his resolve harden.
"Unless you can bring me concrete proof, my hands are tied," he growled. Seeing Sturgis' shocked expression he opened his hands in sympathy. "I'm sorry, my friend. But there's nothing I can do… if this gets out… Merlin…"
Kingsley swiped his hat off and ran a hand over his head, taking a deep breath. He needed a stiff drink.
"I need you to handle this, Sturgis. Quickly and quietly. Use whatever resources you need - you can send the particulars directly to me, but I trust that you'll keep this between us," he commanded softly. Sturgis was nodding, his expression grim. "I wish I could spare you the extra wands, but this is bad timing, my friend. Bad, bad timing…"
Sturgis watched as Kingsley shook his head in disbelief. Thinking hard, he considered what his options were. There weren't many.
"The most I can do is order a re-evaluation of the compromised information… perhaps re-route it through another department under budgetary concerns, but there's little I can do on my end without drawing attention to the situation. This falls to you, now. I need you to uncover who made those copies and do so discreetly and without drawing attention to yourself. Do you understand?"
"I understand, sir."
They looked at each other for a long moment before Sturgis rose smoothly.
"Thank you for hearing me out, Kingsley."
"Of course, my friend." Kingsley stood, reaching across the desk to give the wizard a solid handshake. He took his other hand and clasped it on top.
"And Sturgis?" The man looked up, his expression unreadable.
"Watch your six." The blue eyes crinkled into a smile and Sturgis gave a firm nod. A moment later he was cocking his head, blond hair catching the candlelight… and Kingsley saw a glimpse of the brash young man who had gone through the Academy with him.
"You know how I do, old man. Catch 'em quick, sock 'em hard…"
"Then boom, boom."
They grinned at each other for a moment before Sturgis stepped back, adjusting his robes quickly and running a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture.
"'Night Kings," he said, lips twisting into a half-smile.
Kingsley sat, pulling another report forward as his lifted his chin in reply. Sturgis left quickly, the door closing with a quiet click.
For a moment all was quiet and then Kingsley sniffed, shaking his head.
"Good night, old friend."