3. Summoned

The baby's cries echoed throughout the empty halls of Grimmauld place. Hermione stood in the hall for a moment, still uneasy of the constant chill in the air, and the science defying silence of the house. The walls where still coated with a forlorn looking wallpaper that the boys had promised to fix but never did. The carpet still smelled dusty no matter how many times she cleaned it, no matter what home remedy Mrs Weasley promised would sort it. At least there were no more elf heads or mouthy portraits. No, the house was pretty much empty now. Bland and bare, unloved.

She had been reluctant to agree when Harry and Ron had wanted to move in together, but after a while she realised it was probably her only viable option. Since her parents return from Australia it had never been the same. She knew they had all loved each other dearly but she couldn't help but feel like there was a hidden anger there, an anger that she had betrayed them, deceived them and left them. Even if it was for their own good. If she was honest with herself she couldn't live with that guilt everyday. Besides, she and the boys had a world to rebuild together, and after months of searching and fighting together she wasn't sure if she could be anything else other than the brains of the golden trio. She wished he had had the courage to move on, but she convinced herself that they needed her - but the truth was she needed them. Especially now.

Her eyes skimmed over the pair of shoes Ron had left in the hall. Gathering dust, unworn for months. She leaned against the wall, the weight of the baby in her arms pulling her down. She had never been so body tired, so emotionally defeated. It seemed as though gravity was pulling her further and further towards the earths core and she fought as hard as she could to remain standing. There were things that needed doing, she reminded herself. There was no time for this.

She went into the kitchen and flicked her wand at the kettle. It was soon whistling away on the stove while she busied about, trying to transfigure a bench into something that vaguely resembled a crib. It was shabby and rushed and she could almost hear professor McGonagall stick her nose up at it, but she found it hard to care. Giving it a small kick with her foot and deciding it was safe enough she settled the still crying baby down while she rummaged through the changing bad she had found: Two baby grows, half a tin of formula, a bib, a bottle, a pack of wipes and a hand full of nappies. Luckily, she had helped her mother babysit her baby cousin through out the holidays so she kind of knew what she was doing. She gulped. Her baby cousin Lucy, suppose she was gone now too.

After she had fed and changed him and put him down to sleep she finally sat down. She watched him, asleep, oblivious to the world. He would not remember his mum or dad did he have brothers and sisters? She'd never know. The poor thing would never even know his name. Tears started to form in her eyes. She shook her head. She didn't have time for this. A thousand things to do – but she didn't know where to start. She wanted to shower, to change but that would have to wait. She had to speak to the ministry, she had to get the baby somewhere safe, she had responsibilities, as always, that needed to put above herself.

She walked towards the fire place and threw a handful of floo powder into it, gently kneeling she pushed her face into the green flames.

'Arthur Wealsey's Office – Ministry of Magic' she said clearly.

She watched as the green flames rippled and twirled, making her vision kaleidoscope until finally it stilled and she could see into the small familiar office of Mr Weasley.

Mr Weasley was sitting at his desk, his quill scratching viciously against parchment, ink sputtering and nib cracking under the pressure. She cleared her throat a few times before he noticed she was there. He shook his head as though she had woken him up from a day dream. She couldn't help but notice that his hair was looking greyer than ever, perhaps his next hair cut would finally cut away the last of his famous red hair, holding on for dear life right at the very tips. He looked as tired as Hermione felt.

'My dear,' He said, scooting his chair towards the fire place for a better view.

'I've been so worried I nearly sent Percy to fetch you. I've not heard from you in days!'

Hermione could not help but feel guilty, and the way he looked at her with real concern sent a pang of grief through her as she thought of her father.

'I'm sorry Arthur, I...I... '

She couldn't say it out loud. Any of it. It would only make it true and she couldn't face that just yet.

'The hospital is no longer viable.' She sputtered.

'I know Hermione I know, I'm so sorry. I thought a lot of both of your parents, I hope you know that.'

Arthur had been the first to really make Hermione's parents feel even slightly integrated into Hermione's life as a witch. He was as patient with their questions of the wizarding world as they were with his constant quest of muggle understanding. Mr Weasley looked as though he was going to say something else when he turned his attention towards the door.

Through the green haze she saw the office door swing open, the bottom of a royal blue robe swaying into view. The Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, strode into the office. Ignoring Mr Weasley he walked straight to the fire place and peered down to face Hermione.

'We're calling everyone in Miss Granger, highest alert come through the floo now.'

' Minister, I've only just got back, I..'

He cut her off. 'It's an order I'm afraid, you need to come right now. I'm not moving from this office until you come through.' Hermione could hear the desperation though the usual silkiness of his voice. Shacklebolt had always reminded Hermione of an accented Morgan Freeman, his voice pure tranquility which made perfect for his election campaign. In a turbulent post war era, he was the stability and calm that everybody had wanted.

'Fine.' She said, pulling her head out of the flames and standing up.

She punched the fire place as hard as she could. She felt a knuckle split but it was numb. All of her was numb. She bit into her injured hand to keep herself from screaming and instead a wracking sob came out. She could feel herself crumbling. She had never felt so alone. Her hand began to throb and she was grateful. She focused in on the pain. She picked up a tea towel from the sink and wrapped it around her hand. She'd fix it later.

She chucked the baby bag over her shoulder and carefully she reached into the cot. Gritting her teeth she climbed into the green flames.

The Minister leaned against Arthur Weasley's desk. He took of his hat – royal blue with small silver stars- and placed it down.

Arthur watched him curiously, he had always held Kingsley in very high regard. He admired him as a minister, and even more as a friend. Arthur could tell there was something seriously wrong. Over the past week Shacklebolt had held his own amongst all of the turmoil. He had managed to keep things running as smoothly as possible, despite everything around him falling apart. But today Arthur really looked at him. He was unshaven, his clothes were wrinkled and there was a blankness in his face Arthur had never seen.

'What is it Kingsley?' said Arthur

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up, at full height he was easily at least a head above Arthur.

'We can confirm that the virus is of magical origin.' Said Shacklebolt, his eyes looking at but not really seeing Mr Weasley.

'The corpses we have tested have shown positive for magical properties that have not been seen since the dark ages. And some things that we have never seen before. There is still so much we don't know, but this was no accident Arthur. Our fears have been confirmed, this was caused by one of our own.'

Arthur sat back in his chair and stilled for a moment.

'Just when we though the war was over.' He whispered.

Kingsley nodded.

'It is undeniable that this is dark magic, Arthur,' he paused, choosing his next words carefully. 'That's why last week I acquired some of the most informed minds in the matter, to investigate my concerns.'

Arthur looked at him puzzled. He could detect a shade of guilt in Shacklebolt's face.

'Who Kinglsey?'

Shacklebolt almost looked away but steadied himself. He had done what needed to be done. And although he was proud of it, sometimes desperate situations called for desperate measures.

'Most were unwilling to co-operate-' he started, 'but at the moment we have Yaxley, Travers, Nott and Draco Malfoy.'

Arthur's face went red.

'You have bought death eaters into the Ministry at the time when were most vulnerable? What were you thinking? And they've been here a whole bloody week?!'

'I was thinking that with most witches and wizards in the UK fleeing abroad and with no real experts in Dark Magic on hand that I was giving us the best chance.' Shacklebolt pleaded.

'Believe me Arthur it wasn't a decision I took lightly, and I hope you can understand why I kept this under very strict security clearance'

Arthur sighed and looked at his friend.

'Why are you telling me know then Kinglsey?'

Kingsley stared into the fire as the flames started to transform.

'Things have changed Arthur, something is coming like we have never seen.'

The fire in the grate grew tall and emerald. A second later Hermione stepped out. The soot that now covered her only adding to her disheveled appearance. Self admittingly, she looked a state.

Both men looked at her for a second taking her in. Black with soot, hair even more unruly then usual, a hand wrapped in a bloody cloth, a sleeping babe tucked into her arm. Still, as tired as her eyes were they gleamed with a fire that only lived in the heart of a Gryffindor.

'So My Minister, what exactly was it that couldn't wait?' she jibed.

She made a point to shift the baby in her arm. Mr Weasley was uncomfortable with how much she looked like Molly right before she sent a howler.

'Miss Granger,' The Minister finally spoke, 'There is a meeting in an hour in the main foyer. All staff are required to attend.'

She looked at him waiting to elaborate, but still the Minister stared at her silently. Her blood boiled.

'Right.' Was all Hermione could muster. Her body was shaking and she could feel herself going red. She walked towards the door. 'I guess I'll see you then.' Hermione had never been one for sarcasm, she had always found it the least intelligent way to argue. So when Hermione smiled at them, the fakest, toothiest, lopsided grin, she surprised even herself. She didn't know she had it in her. She felt a little bit of satisfaction. She slammed the door behind her for good measure.

There was a silence in the office for a moment after she left. The two men continued to stare at the door, both lost in the moment, their mouths both slightly agape.

'I don't really know what just happened.' Said Arthur confused. 'Was Hermione holding a baby?'

The Minister nodded. 'Yes, yes I think she did.'

'You really should have left her to rest,' Arthur said still looking at the door.

'I wish I could, but something's coming Arthur this is only the start I can feel it. She's safer here' Shacklebolt looked back at Arthur. 'I also fear this day is going to get a lot worse for Miss Granger.'