CHAPTER SIX
Summary: Nine years after the war, Hermione's the Head of the Auror Department that specialises in dealing with Magical Creatures and fugitive Death Eaters that are loose in the Muggle World. With the fugitive Death Eaters no longer hiding in Britain, she's tracking rogue Death Eaters in the United States, which leads her to The Winchester brothers. The Witch and The Hunters are a dynamic trio that no creature, being or beast wishes to mess with, Magical or Supernatural. Hermione/Dean pairing. Rated M for a reason.
Disclaimer: I don't own original canon characters or events, just those that I create myself. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit posting this fanfic.
Page count: 7
Her sudden use of profanities startled all three of them, making them jump slightly in their seats.
"What? What is it?" Sam frowned.
At his voice, her eyes darted to them and she snapped out of her shock, reaching for her jacket and she slipped it on. She made sure her beaded bag was securely hidden in her boot before pulling her wand and she quickly left the kitchen and made her way outside, waving her wand in intricate motions and patterns and muttering under her breath, the newspaper still clutched tightly in her other hand.
The deaths had been discovered before that morning, a couple of hours after Patterson had been arrested; they'd moved quickly and they'd killed another three people. She couldn't be sure it was the two she was tracking until she saw the victims and scanned them for any residual magic, but given the circumstances, it was likely the two Death Eaters that had gotten away.
"Hermione? What are you doing? What's going on? Do you know something?" Sam's voice spoke up from behind her; she turned her head slightly to see the three Hunters watching her closely.
"You're no longer working on this case."
"You don't get to tell us what to do, Witch!" Dean snapped.
She didn't look at him but she did respond. "Yes, I do, I'll have you arrested for interfering in my investigation."
"Your investigation? Are these the people you're tracking?" Sam asked confused.
"Yes, they've been on my radar for months but I had other cases that were more serious and they had to have my full attention, now it's the turn of these murdering twats."
"We can help," he offered. "We know this case better than anyone."
"No, I can't risk you getting injured, you can handle yourself against muggles, demons and false witchcraft, but you can't handle yourself against Death Eaters, I can't protect you and apprehend these arseholes at the same time."
"We're not letting you take this case from us, we can deal with a few stick waving idiots," Dean said stiffly.
"Got it!" She said triumphantly and then she lowered her wand and turned to face them. "Thank you for your hospitality, Bobby, maybe we'll run into each other in the future and if you ever need my help, just send me an owl; they'll know where to find me," she said, giving him a small smile before she turned on her heel and walked towards the exit of the salvage yard.
"Now hold on a minute," Dean said, striding forward and gripping her arm, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes narrowed on him before looking down at his hand encasing her wrist and she looked back up at him.
"If you want to keep that arm I suggest you remove it from my person," she warned with a tone that was too calm to not be frightening.
"You said you won't use dark magic," he spat at her.
"I don't need magic to remove your hand from your body," she promised. He seemed to understand that she wasn't bluffing and he let go of her and stepped back, but still blocked her from leaving.
"If you know where these people are, we're coming with you."
"No,"
"It's our case,"
"It was mine first,"
"We know more about this than you."
"No, you don',."
"Eleven deaths in four months, in three different States," he said smugly.
"Actually, it's now twenty-seven deaths in nine months and in five different States," she corrected with a straight face. They all stared at her in surprise at the news, clearly not knowing the full scale of how serious it was. "Do you know the victims status? I do. The twenty-four victims before last night, six of them were Squibs, four of them Muggleborns and the remaining fourteen were muggles. I can't be sure about the latest victims until I see the bodies and run some diagnostic spells."
"So that's where you're heading then, to the victims," Dean said smugly.
"Hermione, I think it's best that you partner up with Dean and Sam on this one," Bobby suggested. She turned her eyes to him, a look of betrayal and annoyance in her expression. "Look, how do you plan to get there; it's five hours from here?"
"Yeah, you going to fly on your broom?" Dean spoke snidely.
She frowned. "No, I hate flying and prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground, even though flying would be faster but brooms aren't all that comfortable and it'd still take a couple of hours travel time. Not to mention, it's broad daylight, I don't trust brooms and I hate flying."
"Wait, you actually have brooms?" He said, his dislike for her taking a backseat as it was replaced with amusement.
"Yes, but as I said, I hate flying. I can't apparate since I don't have a destination in mind, I have to have been to a place before or be able to visualise it. I can't use the floo network since I'm in the Muggle World and there isn't likely to be a floo I can use, and I can't port-key as I don't have a specific and safe port-keying point. And I can't drive as I have a British license and it's dodgy at best."
"That settles it then, you three are working together," Bobby spoke, there was no room for argument as he turned and headed into the house.
She sighed. "I need to leave now, the Death Eaters have likely already moved on and the longer I'm here, the further away they get, the harder it is to track them and the more people that are in danger."
"We'll be ready in five minutes," Sam promised before turning and heading for the house. Dean stared her down before slowly turning and following after his brother.
Hermione rubbed her hand over her face and sighed. "Well, at least they're Winchesters," she muttered to herself, trying to find the positive side of having no choice but to work with the Hunters.
Exactly five minutes later found Hermione standing by the Impala and she was sheathing her wand back into her boot. Hermione knew she would be forced to sit in the back of the car and she knew there wouldn't be much room and so she placed a quick Enlargement Charm on the back seat, making it wider and longer, perfect for her to place down books on either side of her. She was careful to keep the magic away from the engine and radio so that it didn't interfere with them, not wanting to give Dean another reason to hate her.
"Let's go," Dean said gruffly as he walked past her to the driver's side without sparing her a glance.
Sam rolled his eyes before gesturing for Hermione to follow him around to the passenger's side; she climbed into the back seat and was very comfortable and pleased with the improvements she'd made.
"What the hell did you do to my baby?" Dean demanded, his eyes shone with fury and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, meanwhile, Sam looked impressed with her improvements.
"I enlarged the back seat so I would have room to research during the journey. Don't worry, the charm hasn't and won't damage the leather of the seats and if we were to get pulled over, a quick counter charm will reverse the magic and it will return to normal," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Come on, Dean, you have to admit that it's kind of awesome, just think, no more neck ache after falling asleep," Sam grinned and Dean glared at him.
"If you have damaged her in any way, I will gank you and I don't care what it will mean to your people."
She didn't look bothered by his words in the slightest and it only annoyed him further whilst amusing Sam.
"Fair enough, but don't forget my best friend defeated the darkest wizard to have existed and he will come after you should anything happen to me and it be your fault."
Sam chuckled at her and Dean's glare hardened before he turned back around, turned on the ignition and they set off on the five-hour journey. Hermione hoped it would go by quickly.
"So, what can you tell us about the other victims?" Sam asked.
They heard shuffling and when they looked behind them it was to see Hermione shuffling through a stack of files which were spread across her lap before she passed them forward. They didn't bother asking where she'd gotten them from, Sam taking them from her and opening the first file, his eyes scanning and taking in the information it held.
"No obvious links between victims, I think the muggles were chosen at random, likely just seen and the others were likely just stumbled upon by accident and the dickhead's wouldn't pass up that opportunity. Crime of opportunity, as I explained, Muggleborns, Squibs and Muggles are all vermin to Death Eaters. Luckily for us, they're running."
"And how does that make us lucky?" Sam voiced, his attention still on the files in his hands.
"If they're running it means they know I'm onto them, they're scared, particularly of me."
"And why would they be scared of you?" Dean muttered.
"I have a reputation, just as you do with demons."
"You're that good?" Sam questioned, sounding impressed.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Depends who you ask, I suppose. Ask anyone under my command and they'll shower me with praises and gush like someone meeting there idol," she spoke with a slight sneer. "They bloody worship the ground I walk on and it pisses me off, I'm no one special, I'm just doing my job; I'm not a bloody God and they can't seem to understand that. Most of them just stare at me when I call the quarterly meetings back in England. If they weren't good at their jobs and have the training and qualifications they do, I would never have hired half of them just based on the fact they couldn't stop asking for my bloody autograph," she huffed and crossed her arms, leaning back against the seat.
Sam chuckled and she looked up, catching Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror; he was smirking at her and she scowled and looked away in a huff.
Sam's chuckles suddenly stopped. "Rebecca Francis," he said quietly.
Hermione nodded and sat forward. "Yes, she was only five-years-old. Her Grandmother was looking after her whilst her parents went away for their anniversary. When they returned the next morning, it was to see both Rebecca and the Grandmother, Margaret, dead. There were no obvious signs of trespassing or foul play, they just died," she trailed off.
"There's something you're not telling us," Sam spoke quietly, turning to look back at her, her eyes met with his hazel ones. She shook her head in denial. "Yes, there is, we're supposed to be helping each other with this case, what is it that you're hiding from us?"
Dean pulled over the car at the side of the quiet road and he turned in his seat to face her. His green eyes locked onto hers and she felt her resolve breaking.
"Tell us, Witch," he demanded.
She looked away from them and gazed out of the window, her eyes locking on the trees and searching for what she knew the darkness hid from her view.
"Aside from the dark mark, -the snake and skull marking, it's the emblem of him, Voldemort- diagnostic spells that I cast showed residual magic on all of the victims. Two spells had been used, Crucio and Avada Kedavra, the Torture Curse and the Killing Curse. Rebecca and Margaret were the first victims to come onto our radar, we backtracked to six murders, all under the same circumstances but seeing as there were only eight murders and we weren't sure if the same person was responsible, taking that into account, and the fact that I was already working on four other cases with more victims and crueller means, I had to put it on the back burner, but I had some of my agents keep track of things for me. When I finally closed my cases I turned my attention to this one. I've officially been working it for just over a week but I've been having it tracked for the last nine months."
"They tortured a five-year-old girl," Sam muttered, horrified by the revelation.
She nodded. "They did, I told you, the people that I deal with, Death Eaters, you have no idea what they're capable of and if we are to be working together, I need you to take into account everything I say. I need you to listen to me; if I tell you to duck, you do it, if I tell you to hide, you do it, if I tell you to leave and save yourselves, you do it. Understood?" She questioned, looking to them both expectantly.
"I don't think..." Dean started, but Sam cut him off.
"Understood," he promised.
"You might not trust me but trust when I say I don't want any harm to come to you, the world needs you, just as the Wizarding World needs my department. We are the line between life and death, we take down monsters and we make the world a safer place, there are people that can take my place if anything were to happen to me, but you, you're the Winchesters, no one can compare to what you have done for the world, I will protect your lives with mine if I have to."
Sam turned around and looked away from her, Dean continued staring at her with an unknown emotion crossing his face before he turned around and cleared his throat, turning the ignition back on and continuing on their journey.
"Why did the coroners not pick up on the torturing aspect?" Dean asked.
"They wouldn't, they're muggles. The Cruciatus Curse was created to cause a person unimaginable pain, it only causes physical injury if it's used for long periods of time or the person casting it isn't particularly skilled in it. These Death Eaters, they're likely younger than us, still learning the ways of dark magic, amateurs, and they don't know what they're doing. Not unlike Bellatrix Lestrange, that crazy bitch had perfected The Cruciatus by the time she was twenty, she even used it on her own husband, not that he was much better as a person either. But, The Cruciatus Curse is useful, too; it gets a person to reveal information, secrets and if they aren't killed but released, there's no evidence of what happened to them, not unless diagnostic spells were cast, and the spell for detecting residual magic from an Unforgivable was only invented six years ago, the war was over by then."
The only sound was that of the radio playing in the background.
"So you can create your own spells?" Sam asked her conversationally, deciding it was time to take a break from the horror that was the case.
"Yes, it's very difficult. It requires a brilliant mind, someone with an understanding of magical theory and practice, someone that is a prodigy in Ancient Runes, Languages and Spell Crafting. You have to have a workspace, you have to have a mentor which in itself is difficult to find; it's tricky to have your spell approved by the Ministry without having another Spell Crafter to vouch for you. You also have to have the patience to carry out research and to create the spell. The diagnostic spell for the Unforgivables was first attempted in the seventies and it took over two decades to perfect the spell, Spell Crafting is a very complex occupation. Saying that, you do get the rights to the spell as well as going down in magical history if the spell is popular and useful. You earn a big pay bonus, too, if the spell is taught in magical schools."
"Have you ever created a spell?"
"I wouldn't be considered the Brightest Witch of the Age if I hadn't," she rolled her eyes at the title.
"You've created your own spell?" Dean asked sceptically.
She nodded. "Yes, it took me bloody ages, too, though it was easy to find a mentor given that my name carries a lot of weight in the Wizarding World. I received many owls with letters expressing interest after word got out that I needed a mentor. In the little free time I had between cases, running the department and training new recruits, I managed to create a couple of spells."
"What do they do?" He asked intrigued.
"If you're nice to me maybe I'll show you," she replied. Sam chuckled and Dean scowled at her.
Dean turned up the radio before changing the song. It was half an hour later when Sam was the first to speak.
"Hey, Hermione?" He turned when she didn't answer.
Hermione was sleeping peacefully, lying down on her side with her legs pulled up onto the seat and it was then that Sam noticed the dark bruises under her eyes, a clear indication that she was exhausted. He reached over and turned the radio down as to not disturb her when she clearly needed her sleep.
"Hey, I was listening to that," Dean complained. Sam shushed him and gestured behind him to Hermione with a tilt of his head. Dean frowned and twisted to look over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the road ahead. "So the witch is asleep, got any iron or is it all in the trunk?"
"Dean!" Sam hissed in warning.
"What?" He said innocently.
"What is your deal with her? Why can't you be nice to her?"
"She's a witch," he stated, as if that explained everything.
"She saved our lives and she's been nothing but truthful with us. You shot her and all she did was send a few birds to attack you, if it was me I would've killed you. You heard about her past and before you say she could've been lying, she wasn't, that book she gave me to read mentioned her, everything she told us was the truth. She's been nothing but understanding to your dislike for witches and she's not evil. Cas is her angel, even Bobby likes her, so why can't you trust her?"
"She's a witch," he repeated.
Sam made a sound of frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "And we're Hunters, she can't change who or what she is, just as we can't. She said that she would give her life to protect ours, how many witches do you know would do that? None, because we've never met someone like her before. Now get over it, be nice to her, she made you pie, that alone should make you like her. Who was the last person to make you a damn pie?"
"But..."
"Shut it before I take a knife to the seats."
"Keep your panties on, and you put a knife anywhere near my car and I'll make your life so miserable you'll wish that you were trapped in the cage with Michael and Lucifer," Dean promised.
Sam snorted at him. "Just be nice to her and don't wake her, I don't think she's sleeping."
"And you care why?"
"I'm not sure, there's something about her, something that draws you in."
"You just think she's hot."
"So do you, I've seen you practically drooling over her when you think no one's looking," he smirked.
"Shut it, Sammy!"