CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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: 8
"Anything?" Sam asked, looking over his shoulder to look at Hermione in the back seat.
They'd checked out of the motel three hours prior and after eating breakfast at a nearby diner, they were now driving around Cleveland blindingly, searching for a dark magic aura to alert Hermione's wand to the signature.
She frowned in thought, a crease in her forehead as she stared at her wand, currently sat in her palm and spinning in circles. She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.
"No, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Pull over would you?"
He shrugged his shoulders before pulling over at the side of the empty road and they all stepped out of the Impala, Sam and Dean leaning against the car as Hermione paced back and forth, her wand still spinning in her palm. Sam left into the cover of the trees to quickly use the bathroom, leaving Dean leaning against the Impala with his arms folded casually over his chest, his eyes following her as she continued to pace back and forth, muttering to herself and her attention being on the wand as it spun in her palm.
"You alright?" His voice interrupted her musing.
"No, this bloody thing's getting on my nerves and..."
"No," he interrupted, "I meant are you alright?"
She halted in her steps and looked up at him, see that he was watching her carefully, his eyes searching for any tell that she was about to lie to him.
"Yes," she replied, continuing with her pacing.
"You were almost ra..."
"No," she stopped him. "Don't use that word, I hate the word," she muttered. "I was attacked and I got out alive with barely any injuries, just a few cuts and bruises, I've certainly had worse over the years. Kingsley will let me know if and when Kyle makes any headway with the investigation and I'm positive he will. Kyle is one of the best, I was his examiner and I was partially involved in his training, as was Harry; he knows what he's doing and I trust him. I'm not going to lie and say that what happened didn't affect me, because it did, mainly by bringing back memories that I've buried for almost a decade. But I will be fine, I've had my phase of denial and self-loathing and it'll take some time before I'm comfortable around others, men in particular, but I'll get there."
Dean didn't allow his gaze to leave her pacing form, watching for any sign that she might break down but she didn't, and when Sam returned from his bathroom break, Hermione's pacing halted and she released a noise of frustration. She sighed and stopped pacing.
"I was really hoping it wasn't going to come to this," she grumbled.
"Come to what?" Sam asked confused.
"I first experienced dark mark when I was twelve, and since then I've pretty much been around it; that's fourteen years of being in contact with dark magic. As a result, my wand is for lack of a better term, in tune with dark magic. It can sense it. But the problem is, I have never cast a dark spell, my wand has never been used for the purpose of practising dark magic or to kill in cold blood, so the ability to track it with my wand isn't very strong, I'd have to be in less than a quarter-mile radius for it to be successful," she explained and thoughtful frowns and expressions crossed their faces.
"So you need a wand that has been used to practice dark magic?" Dean guessed.
"Yes, the greater the dark magic that's been channelled through the wand, the stronger the connection."
"And where are we supposed to get you a wand like that?"
"I have one," she replied before slipping her wand into her pocket and then rooting through her beaded bag and retreating with a dark walnut wand, the handle was straight before a bend in the centre of the wood sent it at a downward angle, almost like an out of shape 'V'.
The brothers visibly shivered and stared at the magical item with suspicious glances; they could somehow feel the darkness surrounding the object, it practically buzzed in Hermione's hand.
"This wand belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange," she said, looking at it in disgust. "I can't even begin to tell you the magnitude of dark spells and curses it's been used to channel and I can't even begin to imagine the number of lives this wand took, nor the number of people that were tortured by it, myself included. When I was rescued from Malfoy Manor, Harry and Ron disarmed the wands of those keeping us prisoner before we escaped. Afterwards, I was given Bellatrix's wand so that we could break into her Gringotts vault." They nodded, showing they remembered her telling them that. "I've had this wand since the war ended. After a while, I earned the wand's allegiance and it wasn't easy to do, it took me close to two years. This wand has seen so much darkness that it resists my wants and needs of casting anything but dark magic, therefore I can't really use it, only for very simple spells and anything else is more difficult. But if someone else were to get their hands on this wand, it wouldn't work at all. The only reason I have kept this for so long is that it comes in useful. Not only do I have a back-up wand in case I lose mine in a duel or it is damaged but I can use it to track dark magic signatures."
"I can see the logic in that," Sam agreed. "So how do you use it?"
"I have to exert my dominance over the wand, I have to force it to connect to my magic and listen to my wishes. As I said, if I was casting a dark spell, I wouldn't have any problems with it, but seeing as I'm not, the wand's going to be stubborn and put up a fight."
"You speak as though it's alive," Dean commented.
"That's because it is, well, in a sense it is; wands are quasi-sentient. Wands are one of the most highly magical objects you can find, along with items such as brooms. Wands are made of wood that is imbued with a magical core, such as a unicorn hair, phoenix feather, dragon heartstrings, veela hair, troll whiskers, things of that sort. It's these magical cores in which make the wand as it. For example, wands that contain a unicorn hair core are very difficult to turn to the dark arts as a unicorn is one of the purest magical creatures to exist. It's said that if you are to slay a creature of such innocence, that you are to be cursed for the rest of your life in a state that is neither living nor dead. Whereas a dragon heartstring core is the most susceptible to being turned to the dark arts. Although they are known to produce powerful wands and flamboyant spells, due to their temperamental nature they're also prone to accidents."
"Now, a phoenix feather core is a very rare substance to have in a wand. They are known to produce powerful magics and to act of its own accord in times of trouble. Since a phoenix is one of the most independent and detached magical creatures to exist, it's extremely hard for a person to win the wand's allegiance and it's a rare occurrence for that to happen. The wood properties also affect the power of the wand, as does the length and maker of the wand, but we'll get into that another time, right now we have Death Eaters to catch before they can hurt anyone else." They blinked at her, dumbfounded by what she'd just explained and a small smile pulled at her mouth at their confused, surprised expressions. "From what I've learned from experience, this wand can detect dark magic signatures from up to three miles away, the stronger the aura, the better the connection."
She laid the wand flat in her palm. "Point me," she whispered softly. The wand didn't move. "Point me," she said louder. The wand buzzed and vibrated gently in her palm but it wasn't enough. She narrowed her eyes into slits. "Point me," she demanded of the wand. On cue, the wand flew up, hovering above her palm and it spun rapidly in circles.
"Is it working?" Sam asked, as they all looked to the wand spinning ominously above her hand.
"Yes, we'll have to give it some time to..." The wand came to a sudden stop, pointing north. "Never mind, the wand has spoken, we need to head north."
"You sure?" Dean asked.
She looked up at him and their eyes met. "Yes, I'm sure, this wand will take us to where we need to be, as much as I hate to admit it, it's never let me down before, even if it is a stubborn arse." He snorted at her before they all clambered back into the Impala. "Right, head north until I say." And with that, they continued on their search, Hermione with her eyes locked on the wand leading them to their targets, Dean listening to her instructions and Sam keeping an eye out for any buildings or land.
"Aright, Dean, take the next left," Hermione instructed.
"I can't, there is no left."
"Dean, you need to take the next left, that's where the wand's pointing us."
"There is no left," he repeated annoyed.
"Hang on," Sam intervened before an argument broke out and he squinted his eyes, seeing something in the distance. "Hermione's right, take the next left."
"But..."
"Dean, take the next left in five, four, three, two, one, now!"
"Fuck!" Dean cursed as he turned the car in a sharp left and just as he was about to crash into a road barrier, there was a sudden shimmer and another road appeared before them from out of nowhere.
"What the fuck was that?" Dean asked, shaking his head confused and peering over his shoulder out of the back window, seeing there was no road barrier or obstacles obscuring the turning from view; it was easily seen and accessible.
"Muggle Repelling Charm, it does as exactly as the charm is named, it hides things from muggles. Say there's a magical house that's hidden from muggles, the way it works it that as soon as a muggle is in the vicinity it'll make them need to be somewhere else, it'll make them need to go a different way, or make them forget where you were going, it'll make them see nothing when, in fact, there's something right in front of them. I could see the turn in the road as I'm a witch, but you couldn't with you being a muggle. Sam, how did you know it was there?" She asked him intrigued.
"I'm not quite sure, I just saw a strange shimmer and knew something wasn't right, I guess being around you and your magic is helping me to become aware of it when it's around me, even if it's hidden."
She hummed. "I suppose that's possible," she mused. "Anyway, this means we're on the right track, wherever we are was hidden from muggles which means there's magical folk nearby. Just continue to follow the road."
Twenty minutes later they could see an old abandoned warehouse up ahead.
"Dean, pull over just here," she gestured towards a group of trees and he did as she instructed. They all climbed out of the car and Hermione waved her wand casting a Disillusionment Charm on the car to hide it should someone come by.
"What did you do to Baby?" Dean glared at her.
"Relax, Patrick, she's perfectly fine, just camouflaged into her surroundings so that no one will see it if they pass by, she's all but invisible." They both looked surprised and impressed. "I'll do the same for us, a Notice-Me-Not Charm," she explained as she cast the spell around them along with a Silencio for good measure. "I need to check the building to see just what we're dealing with," she informed them.
"And how will you do that?" Sam asked curiously.
"Homenum Revelio," Hermione muttered, pointing her wand towards the warehouse, of which, they currently stood approximately five hundred feet away from. Sam and Dean watched as small red orbs suddenly hovered above the warehouse.
"What does that mean?" Sam asked, when he realised that Hermione hadn't spoken for a short while, apparently not being pleased or comfortable with the results of her spell casting.
"A blood bath," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry?" He frowned.
"A blood bath," she repeated louder. "Those red orbs represent every individual that is inside that building."
Their eyes widened as they did their best to count the red orbs but there were too many.
"There has to be at least a hundred people in there," Sam spoke.
"One-hundred and sixty-three actually," she corrected and they spluttered. "Boys, I think we just found Death Eater Headquarters. We're going to need backup," she sighed. "Phone?"
Sam handed his to her, his eyes still on the red orbs. She punched some numbers into the keypad and put the phone on loudspeaker.
"Thank you for calling the Ministry of Magic, how may I help you?" The receptionist answered with a bored tone to her voice, the brothers noting that this woman didn't have a British accent, rather she had a slight southern lilt to her tone.
"This is Head Auror Hermione Granger of the MLE Department for Muggles from the British Ministry of Magic, I would like to speak with Minister Allister."
The line went quiet for several long seconds.
"Hermione Granger?" The woman squealed in excitement.
"Yes, that's me," Hermione sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Merlin! I just love you, I'm your biggest fan..."
"Sorry to interrupt but I must speak to Minister Allister within the next five minutes. If you give me your name I'll owl you an autograph and a few trinkets."
"That's amazing, Miss. Granger, thank you so much, my name's Sarah Peterson. I just love..." Hermione cleared her throat, interrupting her. "Right, sorry, I'm calm, I'll be right back with Minister Allister."
"Thank you," Hermione replied.
"Well, that went better than last time," Sam commented, looking amused at the woman's fangirling of Hermione and she shrugged her shoulders in reply, as if saying she was used to such behaviour and occurrences. It was exactly five minutes later when the Minister's voice broke through the speaker.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Head Auror Granger?"
"It's time," Hermione said in lieu of a greeting and she heard the sharp intake of breath over the line.
"Are you... Are you certain?"
"Positive," she replied confidently. "I'm currently standing five hundred feet from a warehouse that indicates there is movement from one hundred and sixty-three individuals. The warehouse appears to have been once abandoned and is now protected by Muggle Repellent Charms. I've run a few diagnostic spells whilst I waited for you to be retrieved and there are several dark curses and spells surrounding the warehouse and I can't get any closer due to the wardings. What I need from you is for you to contact Minister Shacklebolt and inform him of what I've just told you. I'm going to need at least eighty Magical Law Enforcement personnel and St. Helga's should be prepared for an income of injured Death Eaters and Aurors. I'm also going to need five Curse Breakers and for you to coordinate with the Muggle Mayor of Cleveland, Tennessee. I need a blueprint of the building so I can know my layout and figure out the best way to enter the building with minimal casualties. Do you understand?" There was no answer. "Minister!" She snapped.
"Oh, yes, I understand."
"Good, I'll continue to cast some more diagnostic spells whilst I wait for backup; I want everything within less than thirty minutes, we're on a time crunch and we can't let them get away, this may be the only chance we have to take them out once and for all. I'll send you my coordinates so that port-keys for both British and American Aurors can be approved, as well as you getting me the blueprints I need. Thirty minutes," Hermione reminded before ending the call, quickly texting the coordinates and then flipping the phone shut and handing it back to Sam.
The brothers stared at her in various levels of surprise, approval and amusement.
"Did you just give orders to the magical equivalent of the President of the United States?" Sam questioned awed.
"Yes, she's a lovely woman, a bit ditsy, but she doesn't have a brave bone in her body. She's scared of a bloody fly; she couldn't hit a three hundred pound target with a Stupefy at two feet away. She may be good at politics but she's completely useless when it comes to war and battle, which, sadly, is my area of expertise," Hermione answered before turning away from them and digging through her beaded bag, pulling out a pile of clothes.
She pointed her wand at the clothes in her hand and then to herself and before their eyes her clothing changed to flat black knee-high boots, black skinny jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. They both blinked in surprise. Next, she pulled out a set of white robes, Auror robes with the Ministry logo over the right breast and she slipped them on, fastening the buttons and then hiding Bellatrix's wand in her boot for easy access should she need it. After tying her hair back from her face in a ponytail, she cast a series of Glamour Charms over her neck and face to hide her bruises and cuts -much to their awe- from Harry and the other Aurors, not wishing to have to explain what happened or for Harry to lose his temper.
She then turned away from them and faced the warehouse, her wand hand moving in quick and intricate patterns and swirls of colour and light began to surround her as she muttered under her breath.
"Boys, I need you to get out of here, go back to the motel, if I make it out I'll meet you there."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on a minute, what the hell do you mean if you make it?" Sam asked, blinking slowly and a frown pulling at his brow
"And go back to the motel?" Dean questioned looking furious.
"Yes to both. I don't want you here, I can't have you here. I don't want you getting injured, maybe if it was only five Death Eaters we could take them, but we're talking about a bloody army. If you get caught by a ricocheting spell, it could kill you as you have no way to defend yourselves against it. I won't win a battle whilst worrying about your safety, I need to be focused and without distraction."
"But..."
"No," she sighed, stopping in her spell work and turning to face them. "Look, I may be being a bit forward but during our short time together, I now consider you both to be my friends," she confessed. "My friends are my family and I protect my family. You have no idea of what you'd be walking into and you'd be more of a hindrance than a help."
"We're not useless and we're not leaving you," Dean's anger began to rise.
"I'm not saying you're useless, I know very well how adept you are at dealing with the supernatural, but these are Death Eaters; they have magic that can kill you before you even blink, they are capable of things you can't even imagine, things I can't even imagine. I'm not putting you in that kind of danger, I'm not willing to take that risk."
"We're not leaving you!" He shouted at her.
"Why the bloody hell not?" She demanded, her own voice rising in frustration.
"You know very well why!"
They were now standing in front of each other, face to face, their noses almost touching as they stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to back down. Sam watched on from the sidelines as he leaned back against the camouflaged Impala, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets and his eyes darting between them.
"No, I don't. Why do you refuse to leave? I'm trying to protect you. If anything were to happen to me it doesn't matter, I'm replaceable. You're not!"
He didn't respond, just stared at her and when she'd waited long enough without receiving a response, she turned her back and made to walk away but something stopped her.
Dean's hand shot out and gripped her wrist, giving her a tug until she was spun around and facing him once more. Before she could question his actions, demand that he release her or even blink, he ducked his head and his mouth pressed against hers.