I'd like to thank thekingofsweden1, rpeh and brianna-xox for beta reading. Their work and diligence has improved the story a lot.

Chapter 10: Truth Hurts

Outside Maidenhead, Berkshire, Britain, September 6th, 1999, 20.30 hours

"Again: Did the Minister personally order you to have the reports detailing the circumstances under which muggleborn children were taken from their parents falsified?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain that it was the Minister who gave you this order?"

"Yes."

"Was that Minister Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Did you see any sign that he might have been under the influence of a spell at the time?"

"No."

"Is it possible you misunderstood him?"

"No."

"Do you remember his exact order?"

"No."

After fifteen minutes of questions, increasingly detailed questions, Wand-Leader Hermione felt a brief surge of hope. If the drooling cretin in front of her had misunderstood the Minister, maybe taken a remark out of context, thinking he was doing what the Minister wanted, without ever checking again… She shook her head. She knew better than to fabricate such excuses, but maybe...

"Was the order implied or clear?"

"Clear."

"But you do not remember it."

"Yes."

How could Fudge not remember the exact order that had destroyed so many lives? Hermione wanted to grab the potioned man and shake him until his sorry excuse for a brain gave her the information she wanted!

"Did you ever tell the Minister how your department executed his order?"

"Yes."

"How often?"

"In every personal report."

"Was he pleased?"

"Usually, yes."

"When was he not pleased?"

"When we failed to make the quota."

"The quota?"

"Of mudblood recruits."

"Did he call them that?"

"Yes."

It was no use. She couldn't deny the truth anymore. Part of her still wanted to cling to the slim hope that someone had manipulated Fudge into thinking the Minister had wanted this, and hid the whole conspiracy from the Minister as well. For almost twenty years. But if anyone could have staged this, staged her investigation, controlled the memories of everyone she met, then why wouldn't they have simply dealt with her?

She had to face facts, like she had been trained to. The Minister, Lucius Malfoy, knew what the Obliviators had done. Knew it, wanted it, had ordered it, and had been pleased by the results. Nothing else made any sense. Unless… the Dark Lord could have done this! Manipulated everyone. Kept the Minister as a puppet.

But once again, she had to ask herself why the Dark Lord would have done this. And why, after his death, it had not been stopped. Unless the Dark Lord's death had been faked, and he was still alive, still controlling the Minister… but why? Why would he ruin his own reputation? Portray himself as mad if he wasn't? And why would he let the Fanatics claiming to follow him still run loose? He was said to have lost his mind, at the end, but ...

It still did not make any sense. And the Minister hadn't shown any signs of being manipulated. He had always seemed to be, had been in control. A far cry from the known effects of long-term mind control.

Hermione noticed that she was crying, had been crying for a while, when the ink on the parchment in her lap was already smudged by her tears. She wiped her eyes and sniffled.

The Minister was kind. Polite. Generous. She remembered his visits to Hogwarts. He had cared. He always brought a few gifts. A camera for Colin. The broom for Dean. The tome about runes for herself. Just what they had been wishing for. He had never called them mudbloods, and had never let even his son call them that in his presence.

Had that all been a lie? Had she been fooled? Had everyone in the Corps been fooled? Could the Minister be as ruthless as to have them taken from their families, their parents killed, or otherwise disposed of, and then raised as if they were his favourites? Make them think he loved them?

"Uhh?"

Fudge moaned. She pointed her wand at him and stunned him without really looking, her training the only reason she confirmed that he was slumped over on the chair she had sat him in, bound.

Hermione shivered, sobbing again. She didn't want to admit it. She longed to forget everything she had found out in this investigation. But she couldn't. She was a Wand-Leader in the Investigative Branch. She couldn't keep lying to herself, no matter how much the truth hurt.

Her entire life was based on lies. She hugged herself, then bent forward, her forehead touching the table's surface. And then she screamed until she collapsed.

An hour later, she had recovered enough to levitate Micklebrock out of the cupboard, arrange a scene with Fudge and a few bottles of wine, and obliviate the couple. If she hadn't planned that cover-up all in advance, she probably would have messed it up - or given in to the temptation to wipe more than the last hour from the man's mind.

She apparated straight to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and marched up to room 11. To Antoine.

London, Diagon Alley, September 6th, 1999, 22.15 hours

Ron Weasley drew his wand when he heard the knock at his door. He knew that people intent on attacking or arresting him wouldn't bother with knocking, but they would know that he knew that, and might hope it would surprise him. He glanced at the window. He couldn't see anyone there, and the spells he had cast on the wall and roof nearby had not been triggered either. He checked the door with a small device from his brothers. The witch outside looked like Hermione, or someone using Polyjuice. He wasn't expecting her. She had said she had another commitment tonight.

"Yes?" he called out.

"Antoine? It's me."

She sounded like Hermione, but… distressed, as his mum would say. An impostor wouldn't be as… off, he thought, or would look worse to make him lower his guard. He was already opening the door though, wand held at his side.

"Antoine…" She stumbled into his arms, then hugged him, hard. Her hair got into his face while she buried her face in his neck.

He kicked the door closed while he wrapped his arms around the witch. She was tense, trembling even. Close to crying, he guessed. He had never seen her like this, and he guessed few ever had.

He rubbed her back, and her head, using the opportunity to pull her mane out of his face until she seemed to calm down, at least a bit.

"Hermione, cherie… what happened?"

She shook her head. "Nothing… I can't tell you."

"Did a mission go bad? Did you lose a friend?" What else could have shocked the confident, strong witch like that?

"No… " She started to cry.

He held her, mumbling consoling words in English and French, and gently led her away from the door so they could sit down on the bed. He doubted she was listening, but she didn't lose her grip on him.

Did… he remembered the talk with Luna, where the Burrow had been, and felt as if someone had driven an ice spear into his belly. Was it possible?

He knew he shouldn't ask, if she couldn't tell him, but he had to know. "Was it Malfoy?"

He felt her jerk, then she pulled her head back, staring at him with wide eyes. "How did you know?"

He ground his teeth. Malfoy would die for this! "Luna told me about Malfoy," he spat out.

She blinked. "Luna? But would she… oh, Draco Malfoy! No, no." She shook her head again. "He didn't do anything."

What? Draco hadn't done anything? Hermione wasn't lying, he could tell, but if it hadn't been Draco, then… "What has the Minister done?"

The young witch shook her head. "I can't tell you!" She bit her lower lip until he could see blood drops appear. "I can't tell you!"

"Why not?" He said. He shouldn't push. But she had come to him. That meant she couldn't tell anyone else. Didn't trust anyone else.

She simply shook her head, tears in her eyes.

"Hermione!" He grabbed her shoulders and stared straight into her eyes. "Trust me! Please. I want to help you!" Anyway he could.

"No. It's too… no." She tried to get up. For a moment, he didn't let her, then he pulled his hands away and she shot up, chest heaving.

"I'll find out. I'll investigate myself, you know," he said before she reached the door. He would, too.

She turned around, looking as if he had struck her.

He smiled weakly, shaking his head. "Not telling me won't protect me. I'm just that dumb."

She stared at him, licking her bleeding lip, crying silently. He stood up, and walked over to her, gathering her in his arms again. After holding her for a while, he tried again: "What happened?"

She whispered: "I found out my whole life is a lie. I wasn't saved from abusive parents. My parents were murdered." She sobbed, shuddering. "On the orders of the M-Minister."

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. Merde.

"And it's not just m-me. It's everyone from the Corps. It's all lies. Lies and murders."

He listened as she told him about her private investigation of the Obliviators, and the conspiracy she had uncovered. She was calming down as she focused on her story. When she finished, she wasn't a wreck anymore. Still shaken, but he could see the strong, stubborn witch again he had come to know and love during his time in Britain.

Part of him was happy that Hermione knew the Minister was a murderous piece of scum. But part of him wished she hadn't had to suffer through a shock like this.

"So… what are we going to do about this?" he asked after she had healed her torn lip with a quick Episkey.

Hermione looked surprised, then sighed. "We could go to France. Sneak out of Britain. Be safe."

He smiled, even though he already knew she wouldn't do this. Not his Hermione. Too stubborn and brave for her own good. "We could. But you won't, will you?"

She looked away. "I can't leave my friends believing, fighting for him." She spat out the last word with more venom than one of Neville's experiments.

"I guess we'll have to take down the Minister then," he said, as nonchalantly as he could.

She snorted. "I guess so."

Ron would never get a better opportunity to tell her. He cleared his throat and said: "I have to tell you something as well. Something important."

She blinked.

"My name's not Antoine Dupont. I'm Ron Weasley, and I'm working for Albus Dumbledore."

London, Diagon Alley, September 6th, 1999, 22.50 hours

Hermione stared at her lover, gaping. He was not Antoine Dupont, but Ronald Weasley? Working for Albus Dumbledore? The leader of the Blood-Traitors, hiding in exile in France?

The witch quickly took a step back and drew her wand, aiming it at him. "You are…" she trailed off. What was she doing, trying to arrest an enemy of Britain, no, the Minister, after what that man had done to her? Her wand wavered.

Antoine - no, Ron - had raised his hands, in an apparent attempt to placate her. "I'm not your enemy," he said, his eyes moving from the tip of her wand to her.

"You… you lied to me!" she spat out. First the Minister, and now him. She gripped her wand tightly. Then she remembered what they had been talking about, in the last few weeks, what she had told him, naive as she had been, and rage filled her. "You used me! You used me to spy on the Ministry!" She felt the urge to curse him. A Bludgeoning Curse, to his face. And another to his groin. That would...

He shook his head almost frantically. "I didn't lie to you about my feelings. I love you!"

"You're lying!"

"I'm not! I'm a spy, yes, but I never wanted to lie to you."

"But you did!" she snarled.

"I didn't lie about loving you!"

Hermione took a step forward. The Minister had used her. Antoine - Ron - had used her. Everyone had been using her, lying to her, abusing her trust and loyalty and love! She pushed the tip of her wand into his throat. One Piercing Curse, and he'd die. He knew it too. He didn't move a muscle, but his eyes never left hers. A moment passed. Both were breathing heavily. She was crying again, she noticed. When had she started?

"Give me Veritaserum!" he said suddenly.

"What?" She blinked, then wiped the tears from her eyes with her free hand.

"You think I'm lying, I'll prove that I'm not."

She could see sweatdrops on his face. They almost looked like tears. "Veritaserum is not perfect," she said. As a spy, he'd be protected against it. Dumbledore was an alchemist, he'd know how to counter it.

"You'd notice that."

She would, she knew that. She had interrogated enough suspects with Veritaserum to know the signs. She had been trained to notice the signs. But did he know that?

"If I was a callous spy, abusing your trust and manipulating you, would I have been as stupid as to blurt this out right now?" His head was cocked slightly to the side now, the tip of her wand forcing his chin up.

He had a point there. That hadn't been the action of an experienced spy. "What would you have done then?"

"Tried to make you stay in the Ministry so you could take your revenge. Kept you isolated, dependent on me. Offered to serve as a contact to Dumbledore, and made you think it was your idea, and… I'm not helping my case, am I?"

Despite herself, she had to snort. He smiled weakly, hopefully, and she shook her head. He wasn't lying, she didn't think so. He'd have been prepared with a better story. She snorted again, shaking her head. It would be almost funny, the whole situation she was in, if it didn't hurt so damn much.

She lowered her wand, letting her hand drop to her side, and started to sob. She didn't stop crying until she was too exhausted, too drained, to stay awake.

London, Diagon Alley, September 7th, 1999, 06.30 hours

When Ron Weasley woke up, he was alone in his bed. For a moment, he thought and feared that Hermione had left already. Then he saw her sitting in a conjured armchair, watching him with a guarded expression.

He cleared his throat. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

He licked his lips. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. Though after last night, that's not saying much," she added in a dry voice.

He didn't comment, or grin. He was certain he was on thin ice still.

The witch stood up and walked towards him. He swallowed when he saw how intense her expression was, up close. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "So. Tell me who you are."

"Ron Weasley. Ronald Bilius Weasley. Sixth son in my family. I've got five older brothers, and a little sister." And if he introduced Ginny like that, he'd pay for it dearly.

"You're not from Québec."

He shook his head. "I've visited. Briefly. I was born in England, but I grew up in France and went to Beauxbatons, then joined the Gendarmérie Magique, after graduation." With a quick smile, he added. "The Gendarmes are not quite the joke the British Aurors are."

She snorted, then frowned. "France is sending spies to Britain?"

"No!" He should have said that right away. "I quit so I could go on this mission."

"And what is your mission, exactly? Apart from seducing naive Wands?"

He opened his mouth to protest, then saw the faint grin. She wasn't quite over his deception, but she was getting there. And she believed him - he was certain she'd not be here if she didn't. Huffing, he said: "To spy on Britain's two most dangerous enemies: Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort."

She frowned at him. "The Dark Lord was…" She stopped, snarling. "Was that a lie as well?"

"Partially. He lost his body, but with the help of the Dark Arts, he didn't die. Which Malfoy knew." Or knew now, at least. "He took a long time to get a new body, but…"

"The half-naga!" she interrupted him.

"Yes. He's not exactly a half-naga, but close enough."

She sat down on the bed next to him, though not as close as she would have, a day ago. "So. The Dark Lord returns, bent on revenge against Malfoy. And Dumbledore sees an opportunity to have them weaken each other, to destroy them both?"

He nodded. "Essentially, yes." It wasn't exactly a secret if anyone could deduce it.

"Are you planning to have the Wands and the Fanatics fight each other until barely anyone is left?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.

"The plan was to let the Death Eaters following the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters following Lucius kill each other." He saw her take a deep breath, and reached out to grab her thigh. "Listen. That changed. Things are different now. Because of you."

She scoffed and stood up. "Because of me? Are you trying to tell me that Dumbledore would change his plans to wipe out my friends just because you love me?"

"No! He'd do it because if you can accept the truth about Malfoy, then your friends, all the Wands, can do so as well." He looked at her. Logic. He knew he had to appeal to her mind, not her heart, to regain at least part of the trust that had been destroyed.

She nodded, slowly.

"If we can enlighten the Wands about the Minister's crimes, then Malfoy is done for. And Dumbledore can defeat Voldemort," Ron said. The Aurors would stand no chance, and Malfoy had no one else to stand up to the Wands.

"He couldn't defeat him in 1981…" Hermione started to say, then blinked when she saw him grin. "Another lie? The Boy-Who-Lived was real?"

"He's my best friend."

Hermione stared at him. He hoped he'd be able to tease her about this one day, and make her laugh.

London, Ministry of Magic, September 7th, 1999, 18.30 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione hoped that her friends in the Corps hadn't grown suspicious when she left the Ministry. She knew she hadn't been acting like her usual self during the day, but she hoped they would assume she had some trouble with her lover - Luna, at least, had jumped to that conclusion during lunch, and the muggleborn witch had had to make an effort to convince her friend not to go and hunt down Ron.

It still felt weird, thinking of him as 'Ron' and not 'Antoine'. A former Gendarme and current spy, not a former soldier. An enemy. Former enemy, she corrected herself. She was an enemy now - of the Minister, if not the Ministry. If there was a difference. She was a traitor, though she had been betrayed first. As had all her friends and comrades in the Corps.

"Hermione!"

She stopped and turned around when she heard her name, and barely managed to keep her expression neutral. Draco Malfoy. The son of the Minister. Before she had found out the truth, that thought had always caused her to feel guilty about loathing him. Not anymore.

"Yes, sir?"

"I've read the report about the battle in Ottery St Catchpole. Very impressive." The wizard smiled at her.

"Thank you, sir." That was unexpected. Hermione forced herself to smile in return.

"I would like to discuss this further with you this evening."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have a prior engagement. I can meet you tomorrow though, at the Ministry."

"Ah. Of course. We'll talk over lunch then. Good evening" Draco Malfoy nodded at her, and started to walk towards the lift.

Hermione hadn't expected that. The Minister's son generally didn't take it well when things did not go as he wanted. She was relieved she had not been forced to either flee, or go along with him - and she was quite certain she knew what he had had in mind when he wanted to 'discuss' something - but she was worried now what he was planning. At the same time, if he was meeting her for lunch he might not want to sleep with her.

Though, knowing what she knew about his father, she couldn't help but worrying what he wanted now.

Trying not to let her thoughts show, she proceeded to apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where Ron was waiting for her.

London, Diagon Alley, September 7th, 1999, 18.45 hours

Ron Weasley checked if Hermione was alone before opening the door. He was certain she didn't want to betray him - she could have arrested him in the morning already, and he'd be dosed with Veritaserum, or imperiused already - but as he had been taught, you only needed to be careless once to die.

He smiled at her. "Come in!" The way she smiled back, a bit forced, tore at him. It wasn't the smile she had had before their mutual revelations. Nor the shy smile she had when they had started dating. It was the guarded smile of a hurting witch. And it was his fault.

She nodded at him and entered, then took a deep breath when he closed door. He could see her relax.

"Did you have a stressful day at the Ministry?"

She frowned. "I don't like lying to my friends. Or keeping the truth from them, keeping them ignorant of such important information."

He winced, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Why? Oh." She pressed her lips together. "But there is no choice. If they knew, Malfoy would find out as soon as he read their minds."

"That complicates things."

"It does," she said, and he had a feeling she wanted to roll her eyes.

"How often does he meet each Wand?"

She pursed her lips. "He doesn't have a schedule. He likes to talk to us. He visits the young ones at Hogwarts, talks to us there, asks about our plans, what courses we like, our hobbies… he manipulates us perfectly!" she spat out. After a few deep breaths, she continued: "And even if I told them… they might not believe me. Not without proof. They might think I was memory charmed."

"And if you deliver the proof, they might think Fudge was memory charmed as well?"

Hermione nodded.

"So much for the plan to show your friends the truth, and have them take over the Ministry." He sighed.

The witch narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that Dumbledore's plan?"

"No, that was mine," he answered, feeling slightly defensive.

"So, it's back to 'let's have the Dark Lord and the Ministry bleed each other's forces dry'."

He shook his head. "No. Dumbledore will think of something." Hopefully.

"I think with the right preparation, I can convince my team. They will at least see that if I was a traitor or had been memory charmed, I'd simply prepare a trap, and have the same done to them, not use such an elaborate story."

"They don't know Occlumency, though, right?"

She nodded. "But that can be worked around. I'm their leader, I'm the one who talks to the Minister most often. If they meet him, I can memory charm them, if needed."

Ron realised, once again, that his love had a rather ruthless side.

She frowned at him. "It's reversible." She bit her lip. "That would be a good way to deal with Draco Malfoy, too."

What? "What did he do?"

"He invited me to lunch for tomorrow. That's unusual for him. Normally, he simply takes the witches to his bedroom."

Ron clenched his teeth. That was just as Luna had said. But this change? Was the git interested in Hermione? Obviously.

"I'm not sleeping with him. I'll make him think I did, if needed." She smiled at him.

He thought that wasn't OK either, but better than the alternative. "I didn't expect a Wand to know such spells."

She bit her lower lip. "We're not supposed to. But I thought I should learn about them, to better defend myself against them. Learning them just happened."

"Did you use them?"

"A few times, at Hogwarts. But I'm certain I can cast them perfectly well still."

He didn't think it was a good idea to mention that Draco Malfoy would make a good test subject. "Let's go get something to eat on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"I'll introduce you to my family," he said nonchalantly.

"What?"

She really was cute when she was surprised.

London, September 7th, 1999, 20.04 hours

Even more than an hour later, Hermione didn't think the comment about meeting his family had been that funny. Nor her reaction. 'Meeting the family' hadn't been something she had ever expected, and the novels she had read at school, courtesy of Luna, had tended to place a vast importance on such an event, and to imply certain things about a relationship.

Granted, meeting Ron's brothers and 'fellow spies', and making more plans to overthrow the Minister was certainly more important than… well, a witch could dream. Even a muggleborn one with no family left.

"Something wrong?" Ron's voice interrupted her thoughts. He had already finished his part of the pizza slices they had bought at a stand while waiting for the muggle bus.

She shook her head. "I'm not that used to wearing muggle clothes. I feel inappropriately dressed." She looked around.

He chuckled. "You're dressed perfectly to fit in with the muggle clubbing crowd."

"We're not mingling with that crowd though," she said. When he looked surprised, she added: "I'm not entirely clueless about muggles."

Instead of feeling chastised for his assumptions, Ron grinned. "You were breaking the Ministry law before you found out the truth, hm?"

She felt her face flush just a bit. "In the line of duty."

He nodded, and managed to make her feel even more flushed just with his expression. She glared at him, and he finally looked somewhat cowed.

"Sorry… I'm just a bit nervous about the meeting with my brothers." Ron winced.

"Why?" That didn't sound too promising. Of course, fraternisation with the enemy would be problematic. And they were purebloods, and she was a muggleborn…

"They've got a particular sense of humour."

"That's not very informative." And didn't sound that bad, to be honest. Dean had a peculiar sense of humour too. Not to mention Luna.

"They like pranks. And they're rarely serious. Even if they are creating devices meant to kill dozens."

That on the other hand sounded ominous. No Wand would be fooling around when lives were on the line.

"So, that's the infamous Wand-Leader Hermione!"

"She looks much smaller than you made us expect, frangin!"

"But that could just be an act."

"Ron's a bit gullible when it comes to pretty faces. Remember Michèle?"

Hermione, standing in a rather bland muggle room, found herself the subject of intense scrutiny from Ron's older brothers. Ron's older identical brothers. Who had their wands drawn, if not quite aimed at her. Despite the grins the two flashed at her, she felt as if she was just one wrong movement away from a fight. And a part of her wanted to know who Michéle was.

"Cut it out, mecs," Ron cut in. "I told you, she's seen through Malfoy's lies. And you tested me for the Imperius and potions already."

That was news to her. She glanced at him, and he shrugged. "I'd not spring you on them without some warning."

She nodded slowly. He was a spy after all, and his co-conspirators would be suspicious of her motives. She turned her attention back to the twins. "I expect you'll be testing me as well then?"

They nodded, grinning.

She added, with narrowed eyes: "As long as you stick with the tests needed to determine if I'm a danger to your mission."

Fred - if that was his name - glared at Ron. "Someone spread tales."

Ron huffed. "I didn't have to. You're not as slick as you think, mes frères."

"There you have it, George, the field agent's experience at work."

George nodded. "The field agent who fell for the enemy. Before her possible defection."

Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione cleared her throat. "Might we get on with those tests? We don't have all night to spend on this."

"Of course not! Far be it from us to keep you from doing… 'other things'!" Fred exclaimed.

She turned to Ron and spoke in the most bored tone she could manage. "They sounded more entertaining in your stories. Maybe we should test them?"

"Hey!"

Ron chuckled while his brothers frowned.

"At least she has some spine," muttered George.

"She hasn't met Mum yet," his twin said.

The actual tests were far less extensive than she had expected. She simply had to walk through a curtain of liquid. "Thief's Downfall?" She asked. It must have cost a fortune to get the goblins to part with one.

"Inspired by it." Fred grinned.

That was very impressive. If they had managed to copy one of the most famous goblin accomplishments, they were far more talented than they appeared.

"You'd not believe us if we told you that clothes prevent it from working, would you?" George said, leering at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Are you certain that they are your older brothers, Ron?" she asked while stepping through the curtain. The liquid seemed to evaporate as soon as she was past it.

"Physically, yes. Mentally, they're somewhere between our post owl and Ginny's pet puffskein," Ron said.

"Hey now! Our little brother wasn't that mouthy when we came to Britain!"

"Cherchez la femme, indeed. Corrupted by the exotic temptress of the vile enemy. Mum will be so sad."

She snorted despite herself while the twins ran a few more spells over her. Ron didn't seem to find it funny though.

"Are you satisfied now?" she asked. They had plans to make, after all. She couldn't spend too much time away from her friends, even with Ron.

Fred nodded. "Yes. Let's go to Dumbledore now."

Dumbledore? Here? In Britain? She whirled around to stare at Ron.

He shook his head. "I didn't know about this, trust me!"

Judging by the glare he shot at his brothers, she was inclined to believe him. That didn't mean she felt any better about meeting one of the two most infamous and most dangerous wizards she knew about.

Argelès-sur-Mer, France, September 7th, 1999, 21.03 hours

Hermione was more nervous than she was used to. She hoped it wasn't obvious to everyone. Travelling through a vanishing cabinet was bad enough - she had no idea where she was, and if it even was in France. But to meet Albus Dumbledore, the infamous leader of Britain-in-Exile, as one newspaper called him, or 'The Headmaster-Who-Was', according to The Quibbler! A few days ago she'd have drawn her wand, and either gotten herself killed, or escaped to inform the Corps.

Now though, he might be her best hope to get revenge on Malfoy and stop her fellow Wands from serving that criminal. If he was not another manipulative Dark Lord, of course.

"Good evening, Professor!" Ron said. Her lover looked nervous himself - he hid it, but she knew some of his tells, by now. Or thought she knew.

"Good evening, Mister Weasley."

Dumbledore looked quite harmless, but a member of the Investigative Branch knew not to trust appearances. Or anything else but hard facts.

"Professor, this is Wand-Leader Hermione," Ron continued. "Hermione, this is Professor Dumbledore. The leader of Britain's exiles."

The young wizard was reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist. Hermione couldn't tell if it was possessively, or protectively, or both. She took a step forward and evaded him; she would stand on her own. She didn't check how Ron reacted. Didn't want to.

"Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Miss Hermione," the old wizard said, smiling at her. "Please have a seat."

She'd rather stand, but that would make her look both rude and nervous, and so she sat down on the couch the wizard had conjured. Ron sat down next to her, but not as close as usual.

The professor conjured a seat for himself. "Mister Weasley told me you found out about the manipulations Lucius used to fool the youngest generation of British Muggleborns into loyally serving him."

The witch nodded. "Yes, sir. I investigated the Obliviators, found irregularities, observed their crimes, and then tracked the conspiracy back to the Minister himself through Fudge."

Dumbledore sighed. "Ah, Cornelius. I assume it was too much to hope that he would manage to keep his office as neutral as it traditionally was. The Obliviators took no sides during the war, but obviously that changed after the fall of the government." He shook his head. "But to know the depths he sunk to, to preserve his position..."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that, and simply nodded.

"But I digress. You wish to save your fellow Wands from being duped pawns of that man, and bring those who did so much harm to you and your families to justice."

It wasn't a question, but she answered it anyway. "Yes, sir."

"I and a few of my friends and allies might be able to help you, just as you could help us. But in order to join forces, I need to both know you can keep our secrets, and that you can be trusted."

Her eyes widened. "Legilimency?"

He nodded. "I will need to test how skilled you are in Occlumency, and if you are not planning to betray us. It should not take too long, but it will hurt."

She nodded, focusing her will as he aimed his wand at her.

"Legilimens!"

At first, she could not feel anything, but some faint, light touches. Seeking a weakness to slip into her mind, she realised. She kept her focus, reinforcing her walls. She would not be fooled.

After a few minutes, he nodded. "So far so good."

Then he came at her mind again, and this time his mental probe felt like a blow to the head. She ground her teeth to avoid crying out in pain. Taking deep breaths, she kept meeting his eyes, trying to fortify the imaginary walls around her mind. It didn't work well - he was battering them down with relentless pushes and probes. She gave up trying to keep him out, and switched to burying her important memories under irrelevant ones.

He cut through those attempts at subterfuge like a dragon smelling blood and dove into her memories, laying her thoughts bare to his probes, until she was unable to even try to resist any longer, and had trouble thinking at all.

She came to with a splitting headache, stretched out on the couch, her head in Ron's lap while the wizard glared at Dumbledore. The professor did not seem to be perturbed by the hostility shown, and calmly addressed her: "You have impressive mental defenses, Miss. I broke through them, but I have more experience and talent than most, and it still took me longer than I expected. I rather doubt anyone but Voldemort will be able to break into your mind." He nodded and she felt oddly pleased at the compliment. "Still," he continued, "operative security demands that you cannot be privy to too many details - torture can loosen the tongue of anyone, after all. But I know you can be trusted as an ally."

Ron took her hand, squeezing it. He looked relieved. Hermione would have glared at him, for doubting her, if her head had not hurt that much.

"Now, let's talk about how we can help each other…"

Argelès-sur-Mer, France, September 7th, 1999, 22.30 hours

Albus Dumbledore watched as young Mister Weasley and his paramour left through the vanishing cabinet. Miss Hermione was a formidable young witch. Very stubborn, very brave, and with a strong sense of justice. To see people such as her serve Lucius's regime was depressing, and yet it also gave him hope that the damage Lucius had done to their country during his rule was not as severe as the old wizard had feared. If there were witches and wizards like Miss Hermione, even if they were duped, then the Minister had not corrupted the entirety of society.

Which made what he was about to do even harder. He had talked with the young Wand-Leader, and he agreed with her opinion that it would be nigh-impossible to convince the entire Corps that they had been manipulated and abused practically from birth. Which meant that he had to consider them assets of the enemy. The witch was certainly aware of that as well, but she hadn't talked about it, and he knew she didn't want to think about it. Once she had come to terms with what she had discovered these past few days, then she would, though - his intrusion into her mind had shown him that she generally did not shrink away from facing the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

But how would she react? Would she accept that not all of her friends - her family, as she knew them - could be saved? That even misguided as they were, they were a threat? That he could not tell with any certainty, but he had reasons to hope she would accept the bitter truth.

Though Albus at least had a plan to save as many of the Wands as possible. Lucius had created a system that concentrated all the power in his hands. Apart from Augustus, he had no credible rivals in Britain left. The Wands' first loyalty was to him. If Lucius died at the hand of the returned Dark Lord, the Wands would focus on the Death Eaters to avenge him. The rest of Britain though would be shocked, and the Ministry might be willing to welcome the exiles back, to defeat a common foe - Albus knew that his reputation as the only one the Dark Lord ever feared had not suffered too much in Britain; Lucius had used him as an external threat for political gains.

Draco and Narcissa would have to die as well though. As Lucius's family, they might manage to transfer the Wands' loyalty to them, and neither Draco nor Narcissa could be trusted with power. By all accounts, Draco combined the worst aspects of Lucius and Narcissa: Arrogance, cruelty, and stupidity. And his mother was not quite as cunning as she thought, but had all the Black's traditional pride and thirst for vengeance.

With the Malfoys gone though, Albus would just have to contend with disorganised pureblood families Lucius had intentionally kept divided and weak. Augustus would be the only real threat, but if things went according to plan, Augustus would be dead before Lucius.

The man rarely left the Department of Mysteries these days, and Albus was quite certain that the Horcrux Harry had felt in the Ministry was in that wizard's hands. Two pixies with one spell, as his brother used to say.

Narcissa was not the only one with a penchant for vengeance, after all. Albus didn't plan to avenge his family, but he was not averse to take revenge when the opportunity presented itself.

First though, he had to figure out how to use Miss Hermione's talents in his plan to break into the Department of Mysteries.

London, Diagon Alley, September 8th, 1999, 00.45 hours

Ron Weasley was slightly nervous when Hermione entered his room at the Leaky Cauldron. The meeting with Dumbledore had gone well, as far as he could tell, after that awful 'test'. But the witch had been uncharacteristically silent on the trip back, and he didn't think that was simply due to a desire to not risk anyone eavesdropping - they had been using muggle transportation, a cab this time, after all.

He knew she did not fully trust Dumbledore. She had refused his offer to store a copy of her memories, just in case she should be hit with a Memory Charm. Ron thought she was planning to store a copy of her memories herself, but didn't want to ask. He did hope that she'd trust him with it though.

"So…" he said, eloquently.

"Yes?"

"What do you think of Dumbledore?"

The witch pursed her lips. "He's impressive, though that is to be expected of the wizard who defeated Grindelwald. He sounds very persuasive, understanding and friendly, but… so did Malfoy." She frowned. "A man in his position, fighting Malfoy and Voldemort, he can't be a nice man."

Ron winced. Hermione didn't sound as if she would have an easy time dealing with Malfoy's betrayal. Her trust in others had been dealt a harsh blow, and it extended to others, such as Dumbledore, possibly himself. "I can't deny that Dumbledore is fighting a war, with all that entails. But he is a good man."

"'Good Wands have to make hard decisions'," Hermione quoted at him.

He didn't think it was prudent to point out that this was something taught to her under Malfoy. She was hurt enough without making her question her skills and training. He sat down on the bed. "He's on our side though."

"Our side?"

"You and me." He looked at her.

After a second that felt like an hour to him, she smiled faintly and nodded. He noticed her looking at the bed, and wondered if they'd sleep together. She had spent the night in his arms, the night before.

The smile she showed then made him hope for something more, even though he was not certain they were ready for that again.

The alert from Percy ended that line of thought. His brother needed help!