AN:Soooooo long since I've updated. Enjoy the chappie! Really excited to start watching this one develop. :)
"It would seem we've most of the details unraveled," the Headmistress gathered her notes from the meeting. "I concur with Professor Sinistra's suggestion that we keep the festivities on the lesser formal side this year," Minerva inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, as her fellow colleagues would not be striving to outdo the years prior.
A round of nods passed the room, and everyone shuffled their belongings, anxious to be engaged in other happenings on a Saturday. Minerva stayed seated, and her Deputy caught her eyes, immediately aware that he and Pomona would need to delay their afternoon activities as well.
A handful of stragglers finally made their way from the meeting on the upcoming Halloween festivities, which had always been a sound tradition at Hogwarts. This year's celebrations would include music and an open hall after dinner, which was entertaining for the students and relatively low-stress for the staff. There was always the occasional mischief, but no one had yet come to rival the Weasley twins…Minerva hoped it would stay that way.
Filius and Pomona turned their attention to their Headmistress, a small breath of anticipation in their lungs. Minerva looked tired, even behind her glamour. "Filius, have you spoken with Pomona since our last meeting?" she asked, exhausted by the idea of having to explain the situation once more.
The Deputy nodded. "I hope it wasn't too forward of me to assume that it would be advised, Minerva," he replied quietly.
Pomona exhaled and sat back in her chair slightly. "So what to do about Hermione, hmm?" she inquired. "I daresay you've given this ample thought, judging from your haggard exterior."
Minerva raised a single eyebrow at Pomona's comment. Had they not been fast friends since their days at Hogwarts, Minerva would have taken slight offense. "Yes, well, it is rather…involved," she sighed.
"It's far from simple, but I don't see too much damage to be done," Pomona offered. Filius nodded his agreement quietly, calmly observing two of the most important women in his life.
"I would love nothing more than to agree with you, but I'm not convinced of anything at this point," she countered, her brogue cutting through as tiredness gained on her.
Pomona eyed her well-respected friend closely…Something was amiss-more than just the debacle with the Ministry. "Well, well, Minerva…It would seem we have a serious issue at hand," she grinned slyly. Filius passed his glance from his wife, to Minerva, and back again to his wife. "It's out of your control," she finished plainly.
Minerva glared. "Well of course it's out of my control, Pomona. This is the Ministry we are talking about-not a group of first years!"
"To hell with the board and the Ministry, Minerva," she waved in a nonchalant fashion. "I'm talking about Hermione."
The next twelve days had proved more draining than any Minerva could remember since the Carrows had roamed the halls. Pomona's words lingered, rooting themselves inside the recesses of her mind.
It was painfully true-Minerva had never transitioned with her pupils. To the Headmistress, there was no such thing as a "former student." There was only student, and a relationship that was fiercely protective. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that they had shaped her over the years just as much as she had molded them…But it was something that Minerva only experienced after allowing herself to take it in.
So she found herself at a complicated juncture. Naturally Minerva understood that Hermione was a brilliant mind, but a mind that had always respected the boundaries of authority. But Hermione was different...her mind belonged entirely to herself, untouched by the current and presence of 'greater power.'
Minerva resigned to believe that to solve this problem, she would have to dissolve this problem. She could account for every detail except one…All her calculations would be for naught, because Hermione was not a constant in any equation. The time had come for equal grounds, and Minerva was filled with an unyielding desire for all of this to be over. This would take herculean efforts by the Headmistress, and she was unsure where to begin in this wildly unfamiliar territory.
Despite her fawn-like legs, Minerva pressed on in her meeting with Hermione with cautious ease. The 28th had arrived, and they found themselves once more in Minerva's office. "Thus far, I've no real trepidations, but I am anxious to re-familiarize myself prior to the start," Hermione had just finished updating Minerva on the timeline over a cup of tea and a few biscuits.
Minerva's nostrils flared against her own will, the inward tension about sharing information with Hermione subconsciously escaping. "Well, I don't mean to impose upon your or the Minister's judgment," Hermione shook her head. "But if I've any say in the matter, I shall like to suggest that February would be ideal for myself and the staff."
Hermione made a note on her outline, nodding as Minerva continued. "It is long enough after break so that the students are settled, but far enough away from exams," she exhaled.
"February should suit just fine, Minerva," Hermione smiled, shuffling her papers together.
The Headmistress returned the smile, becoming more comfortable as the minutes passed. Feeling brave, she extended the younger witch an invitation. "Hermione, as you may or may not know, we have some festivities planned on Saturday."
Hermione's ears perked up. "It would be our pleasure to have you as a chaperone, if you would care to join us." Chestnut curls bounced as she looked up at Minerva in surprise. "To mingle with the staff, of course…There's no reason that this whole process," she waved her hands "can't be amicable."
"I'd be delighted, Minerva. I actually go to pick up Rose's dress after my departure," she responded, eyes glowing.
Inwardly, Hermione wished that every business venture could start in such a manner. But it wasn't every day that Minerva McGonagall played your host.
In the Alley, Hermione realized that she had not a thing in her wardrobe to suit such an occasion. She eyed Rose's order-a fuller knee-length dress that belled at the hem shimmered a fair blue in the sunshine peeking in through the shop window.
"Quite charming, that one," the shop owner commented, reviewing the order with Hermione over the counter. "Haven't seen anything catch light like that in many a year at this store."
"I don't suppose you've got anything as charming in my size in the shop?"
The owner eyed Hermione up and down, faced scrunched in an examining manner. She returned her eyes to Hermione's. "Well, not anything as demure, but I've got a few stunning options that might suit your taste."
Harry had just finished his third quick lunch of the week, anticipating an owl from St. Mungo's any day. He swung the door to his office closed, spotting an envelope on his desk. He practically sprinted over to open it, tearing the Mungo's seal as he ripped the parchment out.
Mr. Potter,
The coroner from our partner organization has requested Floo appointment with you today, two o' clock your time.
Please make yourself available-he made it seem rather urgent.
V/R,
R. Aldermann,
Healer, St. Mungo's
Harry unfastened his outer robe and threw it on his chair hastily. He pulled a memo from his desk drawer, scribing a note to Ron to meet him in 45 minutes. The clock had just chimed one.
The memo zoomed out of his office, having just folded in on itself into the shape of a paper plane. It took about five minutes for Ron's reply to come back. He was stuck in a refresher session with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to keep his credentials current, but would be there as soon as he could.
Harry spent the next 40 minutes in his office pacing back and forth, much like he had seen Dumbledore do many a time on the Marauder's Map, until suddenly the flames in his grate began to crackle.
A rounder, young face appeared in the flames. "Herr Potter?"
Harry quirked any eyebrow, wondering how anyone could mispronounce his name. "Yes," he answered, squaring himself up in front of the fire. "I'm here."
The younger man exhaled, smoke and ash billowing from his mouth. "Very good," he stated, his German accent greeting Harry's ears. He had completely forgotten that the partner organization was in Germany, and he suddenly flushed around his neck. Mr. Potter, not Harry Potter, was how he had been greeted. "I vood like fery much to explain you, dat dis accident is…fery strange."
"Yes, Mr. err-Sorry, didn't catch your name?"
"My excuze, Herr Potter. I am to be called Herr Achenbach," he introduced himself as best he could. "Your ehm…Colleague, Herr Marksbury, arrive here about two week ago."
Harry pulled up a chair. "Yes, go on."
Mr. Achenbach glanced around, seemingly searching for the right words. "Vell, he vos not made dead by any…normal vestern magic. I haf made myself to look in…ehm…very olden books, Herr Potter."
"And these old books, Mr. Achenbach," Harry scooted closer. "What exactly did they say?"
"From vot I can see, your colleague has been made dead by fery ancient power…ehm…Most likely it is olden Jutsu from Japan, but I cannot to be made certain about…specific types."
"I see," Harry lied. He understood next to nothing about what Mr. Achenbach was telling him. "Well, is there anything else that you know? This…Jutsu…Marksbury had no markings on his body-"
"Ahhh…Yes. I can send to you a copy of vot I have read, Herr Potter. Jutsu is ehm…fery complicated to understand."
"All good, then. Yes, if you don't mind." Despite having received information, Harry was now more anxious than he had been before this appointment. The meeting had given rise to more questions than it had succeeded to answer. "And his body?"
"Ve can make an arrangement to haf it sent back to St. Mungo's, if you so wish yourself," Mr. Achenbach explained, a puff of smoke escaping the grate every time he sounded with the letter 'h.'
"Yes, that would be advised, Mr. Achenbach," Harry spoke clearly, signaling the end of the conversation. "Thank you, for all you've done."
Mr. Achenbach nodded curtly before disappearing through the floo, the flames rescinding.
Harry sat in his chair, gazing aimlessly into the hearth where Mr. Achenbach's face had been just moments before. Inhaling sharply and collecting his thoughts, he stood determinedly and left in the direction of the owlery.
He needed to call in a favor, hoping that Hermione was still in the vicinity of the Hogwarts library. He pulled a large coin from his pocket in the shape of a galleon, checking the time on his pocket watch. It was a quarter to the hour.
Harry changed the date and time on the coin so that it reflected the current day and three o'clock, precisely fifteen minutes from now. The coin was something that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had continued to use, even after the disillusionment of the D.A.
Scribbling frantically, wishing he had a quick-notes quill, Harry finished his letter and laid it in the beak of one of the Ministry's owls. "Headmistress of Hogwarts."
Hermione had just stepped out into the main street of Diagon Alley when she began to feel a pronounced heat in her pocket. Shuffling the sacks and boxes around in her arms, she rummaged around until she pulled out her D.A. coin, which was radiating heat.
Flipping it over, she realized Harry needed her at the Ministry in…she checked her watch. Ten minutes! She disapparated on the spot, picturing the façade of the Ministry's headquarters.
When she finally got inside and up to Harry's office, she heaved the boxes and bags onto an open chair. He was nowhere in sight, and she checked her watch again. It was now three o'clock, and she pursed her lips in slight frustration, tinged with a slight pang of worry.
Just as she was pouring herself a glass of water to busy her hands, she heard Ron and Harry's voices in rushed conversation as the door opened.
"Glad to see you still carry your coin, Hermione."
"One of my better ideas, I suppose," Hermione grinned, hugging Ron as they stepped in. "What's the occasion?"
"Harry just flooed with some Oakenboat fellow."
"Achenbach," Harry corrected.
"Yeah…What he said. We found out what happened to Marksbury."
Hermione looked from Ron to Harry, as if to confirm. "And?"
"Well, we found out the name of what happened to Marksbury," he added. "We just don't know what it is, exactly."
Her left eyebrow arched and threatened to fly from her face in puzzlement. Between both of them, she was growing more confused with each word. "Do either of you care to elaborate?"
Harry shook his head in frustration. "It's some old magic from Japan, but we know next to nothing, other than its name."
Hermione frowned. "I see. Why the rush, though?" She opened her palm, gesturing to the coin.
"Harry was hoping you were still at Hogwarts to go pilfering through the library," Ron chimed in. "He sent an owl to McGonagall."
"Well I'll be back there in two days," Hermione replied, sipping her water. "Is that soon enough? I'm sure she's got enough on her plate as it is."
Ron looked at her quizzically. "I didn't think you were due to start for a couple months at Hogwarts…"
"I'll explain later, Ron," she responded with a clip.
A memo buzzed into the room, breaking up their disheveled conversation. It smacked into the back of Harry's head. Picking it from the ground, he read it. "Let's walk and talk. McGonagall's response has just arrived."
They left toward the owlery, following Harry's quick steps.
AN: Until next time (which hopefully won't be eons.) ...Drop a note, if you would. Love hearing from all of you! :)