Chapter 20

Hermione drifted down the stairs, after a short fight with the first few steps, and was greeted by a gaggle of shocked wizards. Harry and Draco were politely, pleasantly, surprised with the transformation, Sirius appeared to be preparing a whole slew of jokes, while Ron's mouth gaped open. A small part of Hermione felt flattered, while it also reminded her of her entrance to the Yule Ball this time last year, but Hermione was mostly pleased that her grand, distracting entrance might actually succeed.

'Pick up your tongues boys.' Hermione shook her head, coming to a halt before them. 'I need one of you to tell me what you found.'

Ron stammered, unable to get any words out.

Draco whipped his shock into a pleasant smile. 'Would you like it spoken or written down?'

Hermione paused for a moment, thinking. It was entirely possible that her speaking could trigger the clause even though she was decidedly not before the Chief Warlock. 'Written, I'll repeat it a few times in my head.'

'Don't want to practise?' Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. 'It might be a bad idea.'

'Right.' Harry nodded to himself.

Hermione took the slip of parchment from Draco and read it over and over in her head. It was rather clunky, and not all too elegant a speech, but it would have to do. 'Will the name my parents gave me suffice?'

'From what we could tell, whatever name you declare will become your Royal name, in a sense.' Draco explained. 'It's a formal speech triggered by your family magic, not your name or blood or anything. You could say something ridiculous, but that would become your new name. It's very possible that they'll start using it at Hogwarts so try to think of something that won't be embarrassing.'

'I'll have to keep that in mind.' Hermione nodded.

'It's almost nine Hermione.' Narcissa called, drifting down the stairs behind her. Apparently in the minute or so since Hermione had left her, Narcissa too had changed into a formal gown.

'It took me half an hour to get into mine.' Hermione muttered. 'Are you coming with me?'

'No, this is an illusion that will not last very long so we need to hurry.' Narcissa took Hermione's arm and dragged her a few paces away from the gathered men. 'It's rude to apparate directly next to someone.'

Hermione nodded. 'If you're not coming, why are you dressed like that?'

'Because I can apparate into the ministry entrance hall.' Narcissa declared. 'There will be an area further back dedicated to apparation and flooing, and the rest of the atrium will be hosting the event. For tonight and tonight only, I am allowed to apparate in so we will be doing so. It's likely nobody will notice us, or I'm hoping so, so I will be dropping you off and immediately leaving. The dress is in case someone sees me. I asked Sirius to contact the Order so that one of them can bring you back.'

'So I'm going to be on my own for a while.' Hermione concluded, taking a deep breath.

'You're a Gryffindor.' Narcissa raised an eyebrow. 'Doesn't that come with unwavering courage or something to that effect?'

'Something like that.' Hermione smiled. 'I'm ready.'

'You'll do great Hermione.' Harry smiled, elbowing Ron out of his slack jawed shock.

'You look beautiful.' He managed to mutter out before turning a vibrant shade of red.

Hermione smiled. 'See you all later.'

Narcissa turned on her heel and with a crack pulled Hermione from the entrance hall of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and deposited her in the atrium of the ministry.

'Good luck, Hermione.' Narcissa breathed. 'I believe in you.'

In another snap, Narcissa was gone.

Hermione felt panic begin to rise within her, manifesting as a slight tremble in her fingers. Hermione steeled her jaw and took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. She raised her shoulders, lifted her chin and began her walk toward the mass of people. The closer she got, the louder the festivities grew. Glasses were clinking, music was in full swing and the chatter of politicians swelled in her ears. She kept her head high as she strode into the crowd.

The atrium was an imposition of green marble, at least thirty metres wide and the same high in the space around her, opening out wider and grander as the tunnel of fireplaces became a large circular space with a golden fountain in the centre. The vaulted ceilings were made of the same green marble as the walls, though a warm dark wood lined the floor. In the grand, open area of the atrium, was lined with dozens of windows, trimmed in red, stacked seven high. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of these windows as the atrium opened out into larger and larger circular rooms. In the largest of these spaces, hung high in the air, massive and distasteful, was a banner of the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge.

Hermione made her way forward, the sound of her footfall echoing off of the walls around her. She went unnoticed for a while, the fringes of the party more interested in their conversation. One head of hair caught her attention, the white blond long hair that was walking in her direction.

'Miss Granger.' He spat out with as much politeness as he could muster.

'Mr Malfoy.' She inclined her head.

'My wife's dress looks lovely on you.' He bared his teeth in an aggressive smile, narrowing his eyes at her. 'As do her jewels. Do you know the story behind them?'

'I do know that of the dress.' Hermione inclined her head.

'Then it may surprise you to know,' Lucius spoke in a low hush, 'that I gave them to her for our tenth anniversary. Along with a declaration of my love to her.'

'You find it insulting that I'm wearing them.' Hermione translated for him.

Lucius scoffed. 'You already stole away my wife and son, now you parade in somewhere you don't belong wearing the drapery of my wife's life. Insulted is polite.'

'Then allow me to continue our politeness.' Hermione smiled dangerously. 'Your wife believes you to be in a helpless situation, unable to escape no matter how hard you claw. I believe you still see me to be scum. If you'd like to depose your current houseguest and join Narcissa away from his influence, I will vouch for you.'

'And you'd do all of this out of the goodness of your little Gryffindor heart?' Lucius sneered.

'No.' Hermione shook her head. 'I'd do it because Narcissa has been kind to me, and she is very dedicated to you.'

'Dedication or not, I was still left in her sunroom with a missing family.'

'When this is all over, if you haven't gone to the Order for help, she will reach out her hand and beg you to join her.' Hermione spoke, her expression gone from hostile to sincere. 'Please go to her then. No matter what side wins, no matter the consequences you or her should face in the aftermath, go to her.'

Lucius scoffed.

'You do have a choice.' Hermione continued. 'None of your options are easy, I'm not naive, but you have them. I will be ensuring you are judged for those decisions, when all is said and done.'

'You dare threaten me.' He spoke, his voice barely a whisper. 'The Dark Lord will ensure you receive proper punishment for such words.'

'Your home was lovely, Mr Malfoy, as was your piano.' Hermione smiled. 'I do hope to see you again under pleasant circumstances.'

Hermione drifted away from him, her heart sinking. She'd expected him to somehow choose to turn against Voldemort, even after a short, hostile, conversation. Perhaps she was naive. Or perhaps he was a heartbroken man.

She continued her way through the crowd, vaguely recognising people from the Quidditch World Cup. Many of them, she didn't recognise, nor could she particularly guess whether the people she was seeing were Ministry Officials, members of the Wizengamot or simply people with enough money to influence both. Some turned to look at her briefly, though they were mostly people who seemed to be more interested in the dress than the person wearing it. She spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt in the crowd, who seemed shocked to see her there, parading around a ministry function and not at Number Twelve.

It was as she got closer to the centre of the atrium, toward Fudge's banner, that people began to stare at her. Loud speech became whispers as a wave of interest befell the gathering. Dancing halted and the music wound to a stop as the gathering of witches and wizards began to speculate just who she was, and what she was doing there. She came to a stop beneath the garish banner.

'Minister Fudge.' Hermione spoke, as loudly and authoritatively as she could. 'I'm here to parlay.'

A gap in the crowd formed to Hermione's left, as the Minister marched his way forward. Several men in officious looking robes had their wands in hand, trailing behind him.

'Who allowed you in here?' He demanded, still forty metres away and closing in. 'Who are you? Who are you to demand a parlay from the Minister of Magic?'

Hermione turned to face him, a soft smile on her lips. The Minister of Magic was lumbering toward her like an ape, his shoulders high and his arms swinging wide. It took everything in her power not to laugh at him.

'I am told this is the social event of the season.' Hermione spoke innocently. 'Or rather the political event of the season.'

'I will not ask again.' Fudge barked, coming to a halt before Hermione. 'Who are you?'

'How many bribes have you accepted tonight Minister?' Hermione asked instead. 'How many of the lawmakers around you are aligning their pockets in your direction, for the hope of your supporting their ambitions?'

'The insolence.' He fumed, turning red.

'Are you aware, Minister, that some of those men you are allowing to pay you, are pushing the interests of Voldemort into our political system?'

Gasps flooded the room, likely most, if not all, at the use of Voldemort's name.

'Do not speak his name in these halls.' Fudge spoke, his fists shaking.

'Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, Minister. And you've been terrified of mine for two days now.'

'Stuart.' Fudge whispered. He staggered several steps back, bumping into one of the Aurors who accompanied him.

Hermione grinned. 'Hermione Stuart.'

'Are you here to turn yourself in for your involvement with Peter Pettigrew?' He asked.

'No.' Hermione laughed. 'I haven't broken any laws, unlike yourself. I'm here to ask very nicely for my throne.'

'Then unfortunately, we won't be able to help you.' Fudge declared, squaring his shoulder. 'Arrest this woman.'

The Aurors all raised their wands, casting a silent spell. Magic fizzled uselessly out of the tips of their wands.

'Sorry Minister, that won't be happening.' Hermione shrugged. 'Those same protections that render a person unable to cast a spell in your general direction extend to myself.'

'That's ridiculous.' The Minister scoffed. 'Those protections only extend to the Minister of Magic and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.'

'And I'm sure you're enjoying being both.' Hermione spoke. 'Surely it's undermining the whole point of having a Minister and a Chief Warlock if you're one and the same.'

'I'd hardly-'

'And six months without a new one appointed, that number seems a little high to me. Surely one of the current Wizengamot members is proficient enough for the role.'

'The Wizengamot chambers sealed themselves off.' Fudge pushed in. 'We cannot elect a new Chief Warlock if we can't enter the room.'

'But that only happened late november, didn't it Minister?' Hermione questioned. 'November the Twenty Ninth if memory serves. That was only a few weeks ago.'

'A-hem.' A voice interrupted in a cough. Professor Umbridge, in a sickly pink dress, pushed her way through the crowd. 'Miss Granger, I seem to remember that you and your friends have a propensity for lies. My first class I had to punish Mr Potter for perpetuating a dangerous lie and as I understand you have been defending him in it.'

'I'm surprised you've taken time out of your busy schedule to attend Professor.' Hermione smiled at the woman. 'As I understand it you should be torturing students with cursed quills about now.'

'Such an accusation requires proof, Miss Granger.' She squeaked. 'I'm certain you didn't bring any with you.'

'Send an Auror to the school, have them check the backs of students' hands.' Hermione shrugged indifferently. 'I must not tell lies. Isn't that right Professor? That's what you had Harry Potter write during the detention you're talking about. He still has the scar three months later. For all I know it might never heal. My understanding is that such permanent punishment is illegal. Having students write lines in their own blood.'

Another gasp permeated the crowd. The bright pink flush on Umbridge's cheeks seemed to convince enough of the crowd that could see her.

'You are a corrupt man, Minister. And you appoint corrupt people.' Hermione frowned. 'A better leader might have inspired me to never claim the throne, to allow your facsimile of democracy to continue on its way. Remind me minister, how many of the Wizarding public have voting rights?'

'This is absurd.' He yelled. 'I am the Minister of Magic and I deserve more respect from you. Arrest that girl.'

Hermione closed her eyes, opening her arms and lowering her head 'I, Hermione Jean Mary Stuart, am born of Royal blood. With my magic, I invoke the ancient right of rulership.'

Fudge lunged at her. A loud bang sounded throughout the atrium and a crack weaved its way between them, radiating out. Windows shattered as the force slammed up them. Glass began to rain down, shredding the banner above their heads, though none fell on Hermione.

'Let no man deny my birthright. Let no man deny my blood. These words I swear on my magic, these words I swear on my life.' Hermione dared him to lunge at her again with a dangerous spark in her eyes. Hermione could feel her magic swelling, reaching out toward the walls that surrounded her. It stitched the crack back together, pulled the glass back up to the windows and settled it back in place, as if nothing had ever happened.

'Would escort me to the Wizengamot chambers, Mr Fudge?' Hermione smiled. 'I have some things to collect.'

The banner remained torn.