"Sign here and here," the healer directed Hermione. "One last one here… and done!" She offered her a smile, despite Hermione wearing a muggle top and jeans. "The Longbottoms are yours for the day. We're just waiting on your chaperone, now."

"Thanks," Hermione said, handing back the quill. "Will they be meeting me here?"

"They should be," the healer said, shrugging. "If they don't show up by half past, come get me, and we'll figure out what's going on."

The healer left the room, presumably to go do other healer-things, and Hermione regarded the Longbottoms critically. Frank was lying on his bed, still, staring at nothing, and Alice was walking into a window, her head touching the glass, going nowhere. For the first time, Hermione began to consider the logistics of all this – did Frank need a wheelchair? Could she really get them both on the Tube without Alice wandering off and getting lost?

"Hermione Granger?" a deep voice came from the door. "You needed a chaperone for the muggle world?"

Hermione turned.

A tall, blond man stood at the entrance to the room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. His hair was cut to reach his chin, pale yellow strands hanging down around his face, and he had blond scruff along his jawline and over his lip. He was wearing black jeans and a black cotton shirt that stretched over his chest, with a leather jacket over it, and it took until Hermione spotted the wand clipped onto his belt that she was jolted back to reality.

"Ah—yes, sorry!" she said hastily, flushing. "Yes, that's me. Hi. I'm Hermione."

The man nodded and moved into the room, looking around. His gaze was blank, inscrutable, and Hermione found herself staring at him, wondering if it was common Ministry procedure to send employees that looked like heavy metal band members to assist with muggle issues – incredibly handsome metal band members, at that.

"That's Alrick Rowle," a familiar voice came from the hallway, amused. "And I daresay you know me."

Hermione whirled around, eyes growing huge. "…Sylvia?"

Sylvia Lestrange stood in the doorway, looking at Hermione with glittering eyes.

"Surprise," she murmured. "Happy to see me?"

Hermione stared

The last time Hermione had seen Sylvia, it'd been in the dead of night in the very early hours of the summer solstice. Sylvia had been blackmailing her to get her hands on the Elixir of Life, and Hermione had conceded and made the trade. She didn't regret making the trade, not one bit – getting her hands on the original copy of the Pureblood Directory was critical for her success as a New Blood – but being blackmailed had left a bad taste in her mouth, as had giving Sylvia the Elixir of Life.

If Sylvia had consumed the Elixir of Life, though, it wasn't evident by looking at her. She still wore clothes that were too big for her, for one thing – she was wearing a T-shirt with The Beatles on it that practically hung off her tall frame – and her thick hair was still a mess, haphazardly clipped back so she didn't have to deal with it.

If anything, Hermione thought, Sylvia looked worse. She'd at least brushed her hair and styled it to work at Llewylnn & Selwyn.

"I thought I'd come along to help," Sylvia said cheerfully. "Alrick here can take the lead on moving the Longbottoms, and you and I can catch up on the way to the doctor."

Hermione gawked at Sylvia, astounded, while Alrick went to Frank Longbottom's bed and bodily picked him up, setting him on the floor. He turned to Alice Longbottom, who was staring at a flowerpot, and herded her next to her husband, who didn't move.

"Does he walk?" Alrick asked, looking at Hermione. His deep voice resonated through her, his eyes piercing, and Hermione suppressed a shiver.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "He might not."

Alrick nodded. He examined Frank for a moment before withdrawing his wand, which he aimed at the bed. The hospital bed twisted and changed before Hermione's eyes, reshaping itself into a silver wheelchair, and Alrick picked Frank up and put him in the chair.

"Stay," he told him sternly.

Hermione wondered if Frank could hear him.

Despite Hermione's astonishment, Alrick and Sylvia seemed to know the plan, and they began leaving, Hermione trailing behind them. Alrick wheeled Frank down the hallway with no difficulty while Sylvia walked next to Alice, her hand on her elbow to guide her along. Hermione followed them, and she was the last to cram into the elevator as they went to the ground floor.

"Hmm," Sylvia hummed, regarding the Longbottoms. "Maybe not clothes that scream 'mental patient', yeah?"

She flicked her wand, and a moment later the Longbottoms were wearing white button-up shirts and gray slacks, leaving them looking less like hospital patients and more like cult members. She put her wand away, smirking at Hermione.

"Didn't want to give them anything too interesting," she said. "After all, we have to let them decide their personal style themselves."

Hermione couldn't tell if that was a joke or what.

The trip to the muggle neurologist to get MRIs was an odd one. Alrick said very little, but he was unfazed by anything muggle they came across. He handled the subway tickets and turnstiles like a pro, and he moved Frank around in his wheelchair as if it were hardly an inconvenience at all. Hermione boggled at the strength he must have to push another human around so easily, even if there were wheels helping along.

Sylvia guided Alice along almost absently, chatting to Hermione all the while about nothing. She talked about muggle bands Hermione didn't know about, she compared the Longbottoms to some slow-witted man in a movie Hermione had never seen, and she told her all about the crazy weekend she'd had up in North Yorkshire earlier in the month at some sort of goth weekend. Hermione didn't say much anything at all, just listening with wide eyes and letting the surrealness of the moment surround her.

When they were out of the Tube and on their way on foot to the hospital, Hermione finally found her voice.

"Sylvia," she said. "Why are you here?"

Sylvia turned to look at her, eyes glittering.

"Why, I wanted to see you again," she said innocently, giving her a cheerful smile. "Is that so terrible of me?"

"Your family is the reason the Longbottoms are in a catatonic state," Hermione said flatly, folding her arms. "Is this some sort of scheme so you can finish the job?"

Sylvia blinked, confused, before looking at Hermione skeptically.

"…no?" she said. "When you say, 'finish the job', you're implying death, right? Then no, of course not; not even the ones who attacked the Longbottoms wanted to kill them – they just wanted information."

Hermione gave Sylvia a doubtful look, and Sylvia rolled her eyes.

"Shut up," she said. "Look: I wanted to talk to you, and I figured this was a good opportunity." She paused. "If I get to help heal the Longbottoms to get some of my family's bad karma off my soul in the process, I'm good with that, too."

"What did you want to talk to me about so badly?" Hermione wanted to know, and Sylvia grinned at her.

"You mean you didn't like hearing about the Whitby Goth Weekend?" she asked, batting thick eyelashes at Hermione. "You wound me, Hermione. You wound me."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and their odd crew carried on.

Alrick was incredibly prepared to interface with the hospital staff. He had identification numbers for the Longbottoms, he was excellent at casting light Confundus charms along the way as needed, and before Hermione knew it, they were sitting in a small waiting room outside a big room with the MRI magnets while Frank was getting scanned. Alice was slowly shuffling around the area in her hospital gown, doing laps while Alrick watched, making sure she didn't wander away.

Now that they were essentially alone, Sylvia turned to Hermione, dark eyes gleaming.

"So," she said. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

Hermione sniffed and held her chin high.

"I've no idea what you mean," she said curtly.

Sylvia laughed.

"You know I work in the Power Room," she told her, waggling her eyebrows. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you tearing new lines of power all through reality?"

Hermione kept her breathing even, not reacting.

"I didn't know it would matter," she said lightly. "It's not illegal, is it?"

Sylvia cackled.

"Illegal! She wants to know if it's illegal. Ha! No, no. No, it's not," she told Hermione. Her eyes glinted. "It's just very interesting to me."

"Is it?" Hermione shrugged.

"As are those," she said, nodding towards Hermione's neck. "No, not the Time-Turner. The amulet."

Hermione went still, before slowly withdrawing her Shadows amulet.

"Oh, this?" she said casually. "It helps me keep track of the moon phase."

Sylvia snorted. "I'm sure."

There was a silence as Alice tried to walk into a painting, Alrick going over to help turn her around and try coaxing her into sitting down.

"How do you join?" Sylvia asked abruptly. "Theoretically."

Hermione turned to look at Sylvia incredulously, and Sylvia smirked.

"Hypothetically," she said. "Not for me – the Department of Mysteries would never. But… for a friend."

Hermione stared at her.

"Hypothetically," she said finally, "your friend would want to show up to the hedgewitch communities on a new moon. They'd want to find someone who offered to teach them personal protection magic, who hinted at teaching them ancient magics if they committed herself to the cause."

Sylvia nodded absently. "And what would that involve? Committing to the cause?"

"An interrogation and swearing an oath, then a harrowing initiation," Hermione said, eyes narrowing. "If they survived, then they'd be in. Hypothetically, of course, if this group did exist."

"I see," Sylvia hummed. "What if my friend was a member of another group and wanted to defect to yours?"

Hermione paused.

"…like what?" she asked warily.

Sylvie turned to face her directly, her eyes dark and glinting. Hermione felt her breath get stuck in her throat as her eyes went wide.

"What if," Sylvia said, her voice a whisper, "my friend is a Death Eater who wants out?"

Hermione felt her breath catch.

"What then?" Sylvia whispered. "What do you do?"

Hermione's mind whirled. First and foremost, a large part of her mind was screaming at her that it didn't matter, that anyone recommended by Sylvia Lestrange to join the Shadows was never getting in. But part of her mind was seriously considering it – would the Shadows take defectors? If they did, what would be done to help them? Surely Voldemort could track them through their Dark Marks.

She'd have to break the Dark Marks, Hermione thought absently. Maybe she could warp the Dark magic in the brands enough to make them subject to obey Tom, not the full Voldemort. Tom would need a body, though, if she were going to do that. Maybe she could figure out a way to amputate below the elbow on the left arm, and that would be the grueling trial for defectors to even get a chance at redeeming themselves. Would that even work? Or was the Dark Mark's magic imprinted into the Death Eater's soul?

"I have no idea," Hermione admitted. "It hasn't happened yet. I imagine they'd need to do some feat of magic or make an effort to help advance the group's goals in some way, to make an honest effort of it and convince everyone that they'd changed their ways."

"Changed their ways?" Sylvia questioned.

"Death Eaters are genocidal maniacs," Hermione said curtly. "Any group I hypothetically may have? Would not be."

There was a pause.

"No genocidal maniacs," Sylvia murmured, tapping her lips. "Good to know." She looked over at Hermione. "And what are your group's goals?"

Hermione's mouth dried.

"If I had a group, hypothetically, we would serve magic," she managed to get out. "We'd want people to have the magic they were born with and be able to use it properly. We'd want everyone treated fairly, regardless of what bloodline they were born to. We'd want people to be able to choose what to do with their lives. And—" she hesitated "—we'd want more people to use more magic to help reverse entropy."

Sylvia's eyes widened. "Entropy?"

"I don't know," Hermione confessed. "I don't entirely understand it? But it's of critical importance to the Fae, and they seem to think more people casting ritual magic will help make things better. And—well. If they think it's a good idea, and it doesn't hurt us…"

Sylvia nodded thoughtfully, tapping her chin.

"You want anyone of magical blood to have the chance to reach their full potential," she said, summarizing. "And you want more magical people to use more magic."

Hermione hesitated. "…yes."

Sylvia nodded, humming. "That sounds nice."

There was a lapse into silence while Alice tried to climb onto a chair.

"Ever think about what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Sylvia asked abruptly.

Hermione glanced over at her, weary. "…some. Why?"

"You should join the Department of Mysteries," Sylvia said simply. "You'd be good there."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and Sylvia shrugged.

"I'm just saying," she said. "If you want to discover and research lost magics and the quintessence of the universe, the Department of Mysteries is where to go. You'll get the resources and support you need instead of needing to fund it all privately."

Hermione was suspicious. "…you said it wasn't a department you could just join. You told me you had to be chosen, and that their recruitment methods were top secret."

Sylvia only grinned. "What do you think I'm doing now?"

Hermione's eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open as she realized what Sylvia was implying. She was only fifteen – fifteen! – and already the Department of Mysteries was laying the groundwork to get her to come and work for their department? What all did they know that she had done?

They knew about the ley lines, Hermione knew, mind spinning. The Power room tracked the flow of magic through them, so they were bound to notice new ones cropping up. Did they know she had free reign to travel them now? Could they track that? Did they know anything about her hunt for the horcruxes, or anything about the organization and group behind the Shadows?

Even if they knew everything, it didn't matter, she realized – they were supportive. They wanted her. Even if they knew the full depth of all her activities, the Department of Mysteries was supporting her from the silence – they hadn't told the Ministry how she'd gotten to Azkaban, they'd updated her prophecy tag without so much as a word, and now they were sending an Unspeakable to tempt her with a future career.

"You know, some of the thrill of this is mitigated by the fact I was once blackmailed by you," Hermione said flatly, meeting Sylvia's eyes. "It makes all this even more surreal and hard to believe."

Sylvia threw her head back and laughed, a loud cackle that filled the waiting room.

"Oh, that is true," she acknowledged, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "That is true."

Her eyes gleamed, saying nothing more.

"Alice Longbottom?" a nurse aide said, peeking his head around the corner. "It's Alice's turn."

Alrick stood and bodily picked Alice up, carrying her over his shoulder while following a somewhat stunned nurse aide. Hermione and Sylvia watched as they went off, leaving the two of them alone until Alrick and Frank returned.

"I hope this helps," Hermione confessed. She wasn't looking at Sylvia or even talking to her, really, just speaking aloud. "I really hope they find something on the MRI."

Incredibly, Sylvia laid a soft hand on her arm, reassuring.

"Even if they don't, you have options to help," Sylvia told her quietly, her voice unexpectedly soft, sympathetic. "It won't be the end."

Hermione turned to look at her incredulously. "Options?"

"Oh my, yes. Of course." Sylvia continued to gently stroke her arm in reassurance, but her eyes gleamed. "After all, you still have that wonderful stone."