I started my first temporary teaching block with 4 classes, and am there until the end of term. So marking and lesson planning caught up with me, but I still found time for a short update.
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality. ~Bishop Desmond Tutu
One does evil enough when one does nothing good. ~German Proverb
Laws control the lesser man. Right conduct controls the greater one. ~Chinese Proverb
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Jameson didn't just escort Harry back to the MLE offices- as he followed the tight lipped wizard, it slowly dawned on him they were heading directly to Theodore Burgess' private office. It was ridiculous enough, being taken off active duty, but to be frogmarched straight to Burgess over a camera flash was simply barking.
The resent Harry felt towards Emmanual seethed and simmered as he entered the low lit, black tiled office, and he couldn't help but fidget as Teddy Burgess sat at his desk, calmly watching their entrance.
He didn't seem the least bit surprised, and his calm acceptance of the news of a disillusioned photographer, a french Auror, and reports that Granger was at Passage de l'ancre was met with measured, careful instructions.
"Pull the operation. Return and tell Emmanuel not to engage."
His voice held no trace of panic and Harry eyed him warily; and was noticed doing so.
"Don't worry Mr Potter. Miss Granger is in no true danger. I think we both recognise she is an incredibly resourceful young woman."
Harry wrang his hands together behind his back, stumped at what to say, and only at the outstretched hand and cold smile of Burgess, decided to stay silent altogether and take a seat before the paper laden desk.
It may have been the first time Harry had met the man seemingly in control of the ministry, but no introduction was forthcoming. Instead, Burgess looked over his steepled hands, eyeing him deliberately. Silence continued to reign and Harry struggled to remain still. He knew he should fill the silence with some form of protest, or at least maintain his pretence of concern for his allegedly missing friend, but as the tense silence stretched between them, he felt any attempts would be futile. Harry knew, without questioning how, that Burgess was not fooled for a moment and that trying his patience would be met as an insult.
"It seems, Mr Potter, that your friend is in no imminent danger. Pursuing her so publicly would only draw questions to our motive, and i'm sure you of all people don't want this misunderstanding at St Mungos exposed. It would be severely damaging to Miss Granger's professional reputation." Burgess' tone held no inflection, but even Harry was able to read between the lines of the wizard's steady tone.
"If, despite our best efforts, news of what Miss Granger was working on was to reach the public, the Ministry would be forced to press criminal charges." Harry nodded as he met Burgess' measuring stare.
"If you could pass that message along, it would do Miss Granger well -"
"- Sir, I haven't had any contact with Hermione since-"
"Very well Mr Potter, noted." Burgess waved the matter away inconsequentially. "Now before you return to MLE, I think a memory of the incident best be collected. If you would?"
Finishing his question, Burgess conjured a small flask, and handed it over the messy ebony desk. Harry took the vial, recognising that despite the polite inflection, it was in no way a request.
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As the heavy navy door shut behind them, the chaos and noise from the press outside finally abated, and Hermione could think for the first time. She'd made it to Groomsbrides, but time was most certainly against her. The two magical tailors began to swarm towards her, leaving Luna and the tall wizard at her side. Hermione seized the moment, and tried to forstall their advance.
"I'm so sorry for the delay gentlemen," she proclaimed. "If you would forgive me, I don't actually have time for a fitting today, but I didn't want to waste your time- would you be able to start work on Dennis' robes today? The Grooms robes should be much simpler, no? Luna," Hermione beckoned her friend over as the owner of the story eyed Dennis in lieu of her casual introduction of her fiance.
"Luna, design something extraordinary for Dennis won't you? Something that will suit him. Oh!" Hermione pretended to have just noticed the french auror standing by the antique drawing board.
"Luna, you must introduce me to your escort before you begin. Dennis, go with the gentlemen, they'll take care of you."
Dennis was a good sport and said nothing as the two clerks lead him away, awash with excitement, while Luna led Hermione over to the still, wary Auror. Luna's introduction of the wary auror was befitting of her normal behaviour, which was to say, not remotely normal.
"This is Christopher. He was quite good putting Emmanual in his place. I think he was a bit offended when the MLE said he wouldn't be able to protect me, you know, because of my association with you." With her usual ability to pierce through the heart of a conversation and leave it for dead, Luna smiled brightly and turned to the somewhat shocked Auror.
"This is Hermione. The one the Magical law enforcement were worried about." With another dreamy smile, she turned and drifted serenely to help Dennis with his fitting.
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Emmanuel assessed the crowd ahead and gathered his men in closer. In the short walk from the magical greenhouse, the crowd of reporters and photographers had quietened, but had still not dispersed. Huddling a few doors down, he issued swift, confident orders.
"Granger is most likely in Groomsbrides. She may be young, but the last time we had her cornered she neutralised two officers and blew up half a wing of St Mungos. We do not engage. Defensive magic only. Herbert, Shaw, head into Gladrags here, access their floo. We do not want to create a spectacle for the press. Everyone else, assume defensive positions, watch for her exit and avoid notice the best you can."
As two of his team departed into Gladrags, Emmanuel approached the fray of paparazzi, and smiled grimly. Granger was smart. But even a smart rat in a trap lost its tail.
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Hermione faced Christopher and doing her best not to cringe, offered a small smile.
"I'm sorry if the MLE put you to any trouble on my behalf, I imagine they'll be here themselves shortly. It's important to them that I appear to be following their new marriage law."
Christopher gestured around the room sardonically. "It certainly does appear that way."
"It is important that it seems so, yes. Which is why I haven't been able to visit your ministry directly. It it were to look like I was attempting to relocate, to avoid the law, I'm sure the British ministry would place an inordinate amount of pressure on your government to close that avenue, particularly for other witches and wizards affected by the law."
It seemed Luna's judgements were correct. Christopher's face at her aspersions said it all.
"You overestimate your government's reach; they could not stop us accepting applications."
"Oh? And during Voldemort's reign, how many muggle borns did France protect?"
Christopher's face was ashen, and he bristled immediately.
"They were different circumstances entirely, your ministry essentially collapsed. Our communications with Scrimigour was direct and he warned that should anything befall him, it would no longer be safe to work with the British ministry- the threat would not stop, would not be contained to the British isles, it-"
"- It needed to be appeased?"
"We could offer no true protection then."
"But now?" Hermione hated the hope that rang out so desperately naked in her plea.
"It is not the same situation. Your government could not interfere in the process."
"It would do it's best. Perhaps you're merely appeasing me now. Once the pressure appears, perhaps mudbloods might not be worth the hassle?" It was a risk, baiting him so openly when she had no assurances he would not leave affronted, but time was running out and their exchange developed a baited urgency that left little room for niceties.
"My government has far fewer blood fanatics than your own."
"Who would I need to contact? For assurances?"
"Emelda Frey is head of civic affairs, she would be best to speak with"
"But you think they'll be in favour of allowing those affected by the law sanctuary?"
"It would be a case by case basis, like any other."
Hermione bit her lip, ploughing on despite the Auror's lack of assurances. She gestured to Dennis, now donning a traditional, black wedding robe.
"What about Dennis' case. He's only 16, 17 in a week. His education is severely threatened if he is to adhere to the law. If he receives a place at Beauxbatons, would your ministry take him in?"
Christophers gaze softened as he looked at the younger boy, drowning in the matrimonial robed, and Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief, when a large, silver cheetah formed in front of her and Rita Skeeter's voice filled the room..
"The MLE have arrived"
Christoper eyed the patronus, his face losing all softness, and his hardened eyes reaching her own. Without a beat, he nodded.
"Yes. If he passed our security checks, if Beauxbatons take him, then yes-"
Hermione had no time to voice the gratitude welling in her throat, and had to hope it was clear in her eyes and nod as she turned her body into a crack of apparition that rang through the room.
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