Upon entering the Wizengamot chambers, Hermione was immediately surprised by the presence of a goblin there. The goblin stood in the middle of the room in its own black velvet robes, ignoring everyone around it, while Royce Fiddlewood sat nearby, regularly heaving deep sighs and shooting it scowls. The other Wizengamot members were milling around in the seats gossiping, decidedly ignoring the goblin, so Hermione approached Royce instead.

"Is this the diplomatic envoy from the goblins?" she asked.

Royce turned and gave her an annoyed look.

"How am I not surprised you know about that?" Royce whined. "Yes, it is. They rather insisted, and I finally opted to just bring the matter to the attention of the Wizengamot rather than risk violence."

Hermione saw the goblin twitch at that, though it wasn't looking at them. Hermione nodded and murmured a goodbye to Royce, before she approached the goblin.

The goblin had an average size head with bigger ears, and it lacked the jeweled body markings that marked the female goblins. As Hermione looked over the goblin, the goblin looked over her, sneering.

"Hermione Granger," he said. His voice was low, his tone snide. "The wizard who would have us believe she is a friend of the Horde."

Hermione's eyes widened. She recognized this goblin, the venom in his tone. This was the goblin she'd fought in the streets with, the goblin she'd argued with and left encased in earth.

"Skinbite," she said, and she saw the goblin jerk in surprise. He looked at her suspiciously as she bowed. "I would admit to my surprise at seeing you here."

Skinbite sneered. "You would be surprised at seeing a goblin envoy in your wizard domain of power?"

"I would admit my surprise at seeing you here," Hermione corrected mildly. "I did not know you were a diplomat."

Skinbite faltered at this, before defaulting back into a sneer. "What you do not know, Hermione Granger, would fill oceans of books."

"...what an odd comparison. " Hermione faltered for a moment, visualizing how incredible it would be to swim in a literal ocean of books. "Nevertheless. I am friend of the Horde. If you would tell me your end goal, I would help you reach it."

Skinbite was eyeing her like he wanted to bite her, before grudgingly saying, "I would petition for the antidote for our homelands, to unpoison the ground."

Hermione bit her lip. "So the end goal is to get the ground unpoisoned again?" she asked. "Presumably so you can live there?"

"Just so." Skinbite glanced around. "You would prove yourself friend of the Horde, Hermione Granger?" He sneered at her. "Prove it here, now."

Hermione nodded slowly, thinking.

"I would help you, but you would do well to remember this," she told Skinbite, meeting his gaze squarely. "Judge me not by my words, but by my results."

Skinbite eyed her suspiciously but nodded, and Hermione bowed slightly before leaving, climbing up to find her seat. Era Hornbeam was seated next to her already, smirking.

"You talked to the goblin?" she said. "What about?"

"I wanted to hear the story of this nonsense from the goblin's mouth, not from Royce's," Hermione said. "Merlin knows he'll mess it all up."

Era let out a cackling laugh. "You're not wrong there."

When Dumbledore finally called things to order, Hermione was surprised that the goblin envoy wasn't the first thing addressed. Instead, Dumbledore called Crouch forward, who wanted to report on the Triwizard Tournament progress.

"We are fielding queries from parents of students at Durmstrang and Beauxbatons of if they would be welcome to stay to watch the tournament," Crouch said. "This would increase tourism and business, but it would also go against tradition – customarily, families do not watch the tournament; only the final task."

The Wizengamot then debated on if they should overturn the tradition and let any family come to watch the tournament, or if they should keep it as it had always been. Some argued for the increased business and tourism, citing enhanced international connections as a veil for their greed, while others argued strongly for maintaining tradition. Throughout the argument, Hermione watched Skinbite with a keen eye. He stood still and strong, waiting to be recognized, even in the face of being deliberately ignored and not even offered a chair.

What would it be like, Hermione wondered, to be faced with such blatant disrespect? They hadn't even acknowledged him, like he didn't exist, like he wasn't a person. And yet, he stood firm, maintaining his dignity. Hermione didn't think she'd have been able to do the same – she'd take the insult to heart too much, and she'd probably overreact.

After the Triwizard Tournament families issue was settled (the tradition was to be upheld, not that Hermione cared in the slightest either way), Dumbledore drew attention back to the podium.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Royce Fiddlewood, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Royce stood up and cleared his throat. He looked like he was trying to hide his anxiety, but he was doing a poor job of it.

"The goblins have sent a diplomatic envoy to treat with us," Royce said. "They want—"

"No," snapped Yaxley, folding his arms.

Royce was startled. "You didn't even hear what they wanted!"

"Why should we give them anything?" Yaxley sneered.

"For that matter, why is the goblin here at all?" Phaedra Lestrange wanted to know. "Isn't it your job to handle these sorts of things?"

"It is, but the Goblin Nation—"

"Goblin Nation?" Lucius Malfoy's voice rang out, incredulous. "Fiddlewood, there is no Goblin Nation. Calling them as such… why, that sounds positively treasonous."

Royce's face was growing redder and redder. Skinbite still hadn't moved.

"Can we just hear from the goblin?" Hermione called out. "I'd rather hear whatever message directly from the goblin than through a faulty mouthpiece."

There was a titter of laughter, Royce shooting venomous looks up at Hermione, but Dumbledore nodded to Skinbite, who stepped forward and bowed.

"I am sent to beg a boon," Skinbite said. "The goblins have no place to raise their young, to home their families. We plead with the Wizengamot for the antidote to the poison of the land, so we might return to our burrows once again."

Macmillan looked surprised. "Poisoned land?"

"The land Minister Gore poisoned," Skinbite said, if a bit testily. "It is still toxic. We cannot live there."

"Oh." Macmillan shrugged. "Well. If a Minister poisoned the land, I'm sure there was a good reason for it. Probably."

Discussion broke out, much of it ignoring Skinbite entirely, happening around him, not including him. Era Hornbeam was emphatically for giving the goblins their ancestral burrows back.

"They're clearly outgrowing wherever they're living now, as they keep cropping up in muggle places," Era snapped. "Giving them back their caves will lessen the burden on my department immensely."

Hermione saw Skinbite's lip curl, and she wondered if all the muggle goblin sightings had been done on purpose.

"I don't like it," said Sirius Black, his voice flat. "If we give them too much land, then there'll be more goblins. If we end up with too many goblins, they'll revolt again and try to win by having the numbers."

"If we don't let them have children, there will be no goblins left to replace the current ones," Augusta Longbottom said sharply. "Who will manage our gold then?"

"I don't care." Ludo Bagman was staring daggers at Skinbite. "They revolted, and they lost. Let their land stay dead."

Skinbite stood very still, vibrating ever so slightly with anger, though he held his place with a quiet dignity. After more fuss about who would count their gold if the goblins didn't have enough children, Hermione spoke up.

"We're looking at this wrong," Hermione said. "This is an opportunity. If the goblins are able to unpoison the land, then we'll be able to cultivate the fields again. People will be able to live there again. The goblins can do whatever goblin-ing they want under the ground, but we'd be able to reclaim the land for the wizards, and make the goblins do the work."

There was a small murmur at this.

"Where are the goblin lands?" Dumbledore asked Skinbite.

"In Exmoor," Royce Fiddlewood said quickly. "West of Somerset, North of Devon. It's near Dulverton."

Fudge frowned. "Dulverton?"

A confused argument and hasty geography lesson later (including a conjured map), Fudge was scoffing, disgusted.

"Nobody lives there anyway," he said. "Who would cultivate the land?"

"The hedgewitches would," one of the regional representatives said, standing up quickly. "Sorry – representative for the South West. But—if the land weren't poisoned anymore, my—err—my constituents, they would—they would till it—"

"Who oversees that land?" Fudge wanted to know.

"That land specifically, nobody," the regional representative said. "The Abbott land is nearby, but nobody's controlled Exmoor since the last Peverell, and that was centuries ago."

"Why would anybody want to?" Phaedra Lestrange wanted to know. "Big lot of nothing, that place is—"

"A troll problem too, from what I've heard," Yaxley chimed in, sneering.

"Well, if no one oversees it, we clearly can't just hand it over to the goblins," Fudge said, frowning. "Fiddlewood, would your department—"

"No," Royce said quickly. "Sorry, sir, but my department can't take on overseeing something like this. We're too busy as it is."

"Then it looks like the goblins are out of luck," Fudge said. He gave Skinbite a pitying look. "I'm very sorry, goblin, but we can't just let you muck about unregulated. And if no one of noble blood oversees the land…"

He trailed off, looking at Skinbite with a very sympathetic look. His wording, however, caught Hermione's ear.

"Wait," she called out. "Let me take it."

Everyone turned to look at her. Hermione stood up at her desk, suddenly anxious now that everyone's attention was on her.

"It's of no surprise to anyone that I call myself New Blood, whether or not you believe my claim," she said, her voice steady. "Allot me this land, as the new keeper. If I pass my trial, and the House of Granger joins the Sacred 28, it will become the Granger lands. If I fail, no harm, no foul – no one owned it in the first place, did they? And if I manage to purify the land in the process, so much the better."

There was a murmur throughout the crowd. Some of the regional representatives leaned in to each other, talking hastily, but Hermione was unsurprised to see comprehension in the eyes of all of the Sacred 28 – clearly, they'd all gone back and consulted their books on the matter of 'New Blood' once they'd first heard of it.

"You?" Fudge looked puzzled. "You… would take this on? This massive detoxification project?"

"I would," Hermione said, nodding. "Where else will I claim Granger lands from someday? I'd rather not poach from others. And this will give me another chance to prove myself."

There were more murmurs in the chamber, skeptical looks being cast her way.

"I say let her," Lucius Malfoy said suddenly, his eyes narrowed on her. "Let the girl try and purify the land. Let her discover what all goes into running an estate. Let her see if she can truly stand among us as equals."

"And what do we do when the goblins revolt and kill her and her tenants?" Amycus Carrow wanted to know. "Then it falls to us to clean up her mess?"

Lucius Malfoy shrugged, careless. "The Ministry has put down the goblins before. It would not be hard to do so again."

"Hermione has been leading the way with the silver warding of the tenancies," Augusta Longbottom allowed. "She has a good heart, and the right attitude. She would make a fair enough landlord."

"I would support her in this," said Rowan Greengrass. "Let her use her New Blood magic to restore the land."

There were more murmurs, and Dumbledore called for a vote.

"All in favor of allotting Exmoor to the presumed House of Granger, hold up white," Dumbledore instructed. "All those against, black."

Hermione bit her lip hard, her own hand shaking slightly as she held up her own paddle as white. She watched the others across the way. She was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy and Thoros Nott both hold up white, while others in the Sacred 28 – the Macmillans, the Weasleys, the Blacks – held up black. The regional representatives all seemed to be on her side, their paddles making a line of white, and though Muse Booth was holding up black, the Department of Mysteries representative was holding white. Hermione scanned, counting, but Dumbledore's gavel came down before she could finish.

"By a vote of 31 to 18, the motion passes," Dumbledore announced. "The House of Granger will be allotted the Exmoor grounds, along with all responsibilities implied therein."

There was a murmur in the chamber, and Hermione bowed, honored. When she straightened, Fudge was looking at her.

"You realize that you will be responsible for the goblins in this matter now?" he asked. He left no room for argument. "If they revolt, the Ministry will of course step in, but for unpoisoning the land – this project will be entirely on your shoulders. If you should fail and the goblins become angry, their ire is likely to land on you."

"I understand." Hermione fought to keep her knees from shaking. "I accept this responsibility."

Fudge shrugged, and suddenly that was that – the goblin diplomatic envoy would have to meet with her directly to discuss unpoisoning the land, and the Wizengamot was on to more important matters than the issues of goblins.

"The muggles are becoming more of a problem," Era Hornbeam said, standing. "Their surveillance system – this CCTV, as we learned this summer – is expanding. My Obliviators are becoming overworked, not to mention the drain on my people to figure out muggle camera footage and wipe it clean."

"We're constantly getting complaints as well," Muse Booth said, irritably. "Unless we want to work with the muggle government and set up specific Apparition points in crowded places, we need a solution, and soon."

The matter was debated and argued, determined to be of concern, and referred to committee; the representative from the Department of Mysteries would work to determine if there was anything magical that could be done to make the issue less of a problem, and the matter was tabled.

Dumbledore banged his gavel, and they were dismissed – most, to mingle and leave; Hermione, to approach Skinbite, who eyed her carefully as she drew near.

"I would speak with you and the others later," she said, bowing. "I would prefer not to discuss such matters here."

"I would as well," Skinbite said immediately. He scowled, showing many pointy teeth. "I would not let you delay us forever, Hermione Granger. When and where would you have us meet?"

Hermione considered. "How about in just over two weeks, on the new moon?"

"So soon?" Skinbite jerked, startled. "I would presume you would trapped in your school…"

"Well..." Hermione smiled, showing him as many of her own teeth as she could without looking like a Cheshire Cat, "you would presume wrong."