"How is this costing so much?" Fudge demanded, waving a paper angrily. "Azkaban never required this many wizards for maintenance before!"
"Azkaban never had a giant hole in the wall before, either," Amelia Bones said dryly, folding her arms. "It is either the Ministry pay for the wizards necessary to take turns casting the warming charms necessary to keep the prison inhabitable, or we look for a new prison."
"Wait, what?" Amycus Carrow interrupted, blinking stupidly. "There's still a hole in Azkaban?"
"There is," Amelia Bones said testily. "Azkaban prison was made and spelled to resist all magic. None of our people have been able to transfigure the prison back to the state it was in before the attack over the summer."
This was news to Hermione. She sat up, eyes widening, and listened.
"We from Department of Mysteries have theories on how it was done, but nothing concrete, and nothing actionable," said the Unspeakable. "So far, we have been unable to restore the stone arms to the proper structure of Azkaban."
"How are we supposed to get the prison fixed, then?" Fudge wanted to know. "We can't raise taxes just to help keep prisoners alive. Even if it's necessary, it'd be massively unpopular. There's got to be another way."
"Just ask the Valkyrie to fix it, then," snapped Augusta Longbottom. "We're trying to discuss solutions here, Minister, but your whingeing is getting in the way."
Fudge turned red with fury and indignation, but across the way, Hermione could see the idea flit through the eyes of the Sacred 28.
"Why not ask the Valkyrie to fix it?" Phaedra Lestrange suggested. "If she caused it, she could probably fix it."
"We don't know who that is," Amelia Bones said, aggravated. "If we did, we would have interrogated her and learned how she'd done it by now."
"But that's rather the point, isn't it?" Phaedra said conversationally. "You'd have captured her and demanded answers. You'd probably have arrested her. No wonder she hasn't come forward – anyone with an ounce of sense would be hiding from the Ministry's Aurors."
"I fail to see your point. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement—"
"Well, I'm not failing at following the logic," Lucius Malfoy drawled, interrupting Amelia. "If the Valkyrie won't come forward because of the threat of Ministry arrest, reverse the situation."
"Reverse it?" Fudge repeated, confused.
"Precisely." Malfoy inclined his head. "Announce that the Ministry is offering amnesty for the assault on Azkaban, conditional on the successful reparation of the prison."
"You could even open it up to anyone," Phaedra chimed in. "Amnesty for anyone able to repair the prison, whether or not they were the original person who destroyed it."
"We are not just going to be forgiving people's crimes all over the place," Amelia hissed at Lestrange, who shrugged.
"I don't see why not," she said airily. "You're in a desperate position. Desperate times call for desperate measures."
Amelia glared at Phaedra, suspicious, while Phaedra appeared entirely unconcerned.
"Strictly speaking, no one was harmed," Barty Crouch Sr. said, speaking up. "The only true crime to be forgiven would be the damage to the prison. Fixing Azkaban would be suitable penance for that offense."
"No one was harmed?" snapped Muse Booth. "I'm sorry, but did you forget—"
"The Dementors are gone, to be sure, but they were never classified as people, were they?" Crouch said loudly. "I don't believe they even existed legally under the Ministry as a creature or a being."
"They did not," Era Hornbeam chimed in. "They were classified as a Dark apparition."
"And therefore, they had no rights," Barty continued. He gave them all a curt look. "Are we going to truly pretend to be upset about the eradication of creatures made of Dark Magic in the face of having Azkaban functional once more?"
Fudge muttered something about upkeep and guard expenses, which Barty ignored.
"Call for a vote, Dumbledore," Barty Crouch challenged him, eyes flinty. "White, we offer amnesty to the Valkyrie to fix the prison. Black, we continue looking for another solution."
"This is not up for vote," Amelia Bones argued. "This falls under the purview of the Department of Magical—"
"It is eligible for vote," Dumbledore cut in, almost apologetically. "Madam Bones, you are requesting extra funds and a reallocation of the budget from the Wizengamot. That enables the Wizengamot to intervene as necessary. If you had not…"
He trailed off, shrugging, his blue eyes twinkling, and Amelia Bones looked so angry she could spit.
"Shall we vote, then? White, we offer amnesty; black, we continue looking for a solution…"
Hermione was careful to not put her paddle up too quickly, but she did as soon as she saw others also vote white, her hand trembling. A moment ago they'd been discussing budgetary matters, and now there was suddenly a chance that Hermione could clear her name and exist without the heavy weight of an arrest lurking about.
Judging from the paddles going up, very few people had a problem with the idea of making the Valkyrie fix what she had broken. The vote was called a moment later – 42 to 7, in favor of offering forgiveness for the crimes.
"Amnesty will be offered to the one known colloquially as 'the Valkyrie' in exchange for the restoration of Azkaban prison," Dumbledore pronounced. "The details will remain under the purview of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—" Dumbledore nodded toward Amelia Bones, gentil "—to handle as they see fit."
Even from this distance, Hermione could see Amelia Bones' eyes burn with resentment at graciously being given permission to do her own job.
"Next up for discussion – the representative for the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures has a concern regarding the werewolves?"
"Not again," groaned Geraint Weasley. "We built the bloody house. We made the bloody Moon-keys. Unless this is about Fenrir Greyback, shouldn't you be dealing with anything?"
There were snorts of disgust from Malfoy and the others from the more 'well-bred' pureblood contingent, and even Hermione was astonished at the language Geraint was using in front of the Wizengamot.
"It would be, but I opted to bring the issue to the attention of the Wizengamot as a matter of potential international concern," Royce Fiddlewood said, standing. He was wringing his hands. "In September, for the first full moon, the New Zealand werewolves did indeed come to the Hooper house during their night. But when the British Werewolves were transported in kind to New Zealand to spend our night, the New Zealand werewolves threatened them, and several have reported feeling afraid and not wanting to go to the New Zealand house again."
"That is not what happened," Sirius Black said loudly, sitting up. He looked annoyed. "Tell the truth, Fiddlewood."
"How would you describe it?" Royce snapped back. "They arrived to a contingent of werewolves chanting and threatening them—"
"They were honoring them," Sirius snapped. "The New Zealand representative was there to explain it to them—"
"Explain that they were being threatened? I've had scared werewolves in my office for a solid fortnight now—"
A loud bang went off from Dumbledore's wand, and the chamber quickly settled into silence.
"There," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Now: Mr. Fiddlewood, can you tell us exactly what made the werewolves feel threatened? Afterward, Mr. Black, you can tell us what you have learned about the matter."
Hermione tuned out Royce's prattling on in favor of doodling on her parchment, daydreaming. When should she go and repair Azkaban? Would the Ministry set a time limit with their offer? They must, if they were so concerned about heating costs in the face of the oncoming winter. Should she just show up? Or should she go in disguise – clad in a cloak she charmed with Sylvia's spell?
She would have to ask the Umbra, Hermione decided. They'd be able to help her analyze every political angle possible.
After the Wizengamot session was over, Hermione approached Sirius Black.
"Sirius Black," she said, inclining her head.
Sirius looked at her, recognition flickering in his gaze a moment later. "Hermione."
"Thank you for speaking up," she told him frankly. "I worked hard with the New Zealand ICW representative, and I'd be furious if it was all for naught because people can't respect others' cultural practices."
To her surprise, Sirius laughed.
"Yeah. Moony would have been alarmed, too, if the woman hadn't explained it was a cultural thing to honor them," Sirius said ruefully, running a hand through his hair. "But most of them paid attention to what she said. Moony said they were all talking about it afterwards before they went to bed."
"Talking about the New Zealand chant?" Hermione asked, curious. "The haka they performed?"
"Yeah. Whether it was to honor them or not, it was pretty intimidating," Sirius said. "Lots of glaring, weird faces, loud shouting and stomping." He grinned. "I tried to coax Remus into mimicking it to show me, but he blew me off, saying something about it being culturally insensitive."
Hermione laughed.
"Well, I'm glad all the same," she said. "I suspect that the people registering complaints just don't want to be subject to the Moon-keys, and they're using the haka as an excuse to object and whine."
Sirius' face darkened.
"Remus thinks that some of the werewolves are Greyback's people," he said, his voice low. "He reckons they've been told to infiltrate and recruit everyone. All of Britain's werewolves have never been so easily accessible in one specific place before."
Hermione bit her lip. "I never considered that."
"Yeah, well…" Sirius blew out his breath, frustrated. "The Moon-keys are still a good idea. Hopefully they'll help the werewolves enough that Greyback won't be able to offer them anything that they don't already have."
Hermione nodded. Her mind struggled to find a natural way to bring up Sirius' family without it being awkward or suspicious or weird, and when Lucius Malfoy walked by, giving Sirius a sneer as he left, she leapt on the connection, as weak as it was.
"Do you still see him much?" she asked quietly, nodding towards him. "Lucius?"
Sirius looked at her incredulously. "Malfoy? No. Why would I?"
"Well, they're your only remaining family, aren't they?" Hermione asked, blinking. "Narcissa was holding the Black seat while you were in Azkaban."
Sirius made a face.
"Never liked my family much," he said, shaking his hand. "Bunch of Dark wizards, the lot of them. Better to leave them to rot."
"Do you have any other family?" Hermione pressed. "If the Malfoys are all you have—"
Sirius laughed, and it came out slightly deranged.
"Let's see; there's me, that's one," Sirius said, counting on his fingers. "There's Regulus, who's dead – got killed working for Voldemort somehow. There's my dad, who's also dead, and my mum, who apparently restored me to the family when she thought I was jailed for working for Voldemort. She's dead too. And that's my immediate family. Now, extended family…" He held up his other hand. "There's Bellatrix, who's insane and evil. There's Narcissa, who married into evil. And there's Andromeda, who…" Sirius paused. "Well, she's been disowned, at any rate, for marrying a Muggle-born. I don't know what she's been up to lately."
"But she's not evil?" Hermione asked, and Sirius snorted.
"Well, she was still a Slytherin, but she always was my favorite cousin," he conceded. "Didn't abide by that blood prejudice. She was fierce to defend what was hers, and well, when that included Ted Tonks, she faced down her family for him – with her wand, according to what I heard."
Sirius paused, then shook his head. He looked back at Hermione.
"There's a reason I've been writing to Harry, you know," he told her plainly. "I'm his godfather. I'm the last Black, and I certainly don't have kids. I'd like to see him raised properly, have him become the Black heir. Can you imagine?" He grinned faintly. "My mum would die at the embarrassment at having the Boy Who Lived - the one who vanquished Voldemort - represent the family to the world. I can't think of a more brilliant way to change the Black family reputation, you know?"
"That would be funny," Hermione said, considering it and smiling faintly. "Still. I think you might be coming on a bit strong to Harry—"
"Nah," Sirius said immediately, dismissing her concerns. "He'll do anything to get out of that place with the muggles—"
"Now Sirius," came a very familiar stern voice from behind them. "You know that it's imperative that Harry Potter spend some of the summer with his relatives."
Hermione turned to see Dumbledore standing there. He looked calm and at ease, but his blue gaze was flinty. "The blood wards there made from Lily's sacrifice protect him," he told Sirius firmly. "There is nowhere else as safe."
"I know, I know," Sirius objected, whining. "But Albus—surely we could make Grimmauld Place just as safe—"
"Maybe one day that will be," Dumbledore allowed. He smiled. "But that day is certainly not today, is it not? Just last week, Remus was owling me asking how to get rid of mutated doxxies and deathcaps."
Sirius' face colored, and he turned away, muttering as he strode off. Hermione nearly panicked, quickly looking at her watch as subtly as she could.
"Not to worry," Dumbledore assured her, smiling. "It's not even four yet. You've plenty of time to get back to the castle in time for supper."
"I—yeah, thanks," Hermione said. "I was hoping for a bit of a nap if I could, maybe. Today's session was just—it seemed long…"
"Ah." Dumbledore nodded wisely, gently escorting her down the hall. "Time is a marvelous thing, isn't it? We treat it so linearly, as if one second is equal to the next, when personal experience would tell us that is wrong." His lips quirked. "For who has not experienced time drag itself out over something dull, or speed up and rush by when one is having fun?"
"Is that really time, though?" Hermione argued as they reached the Floo. "Is that really time, or just our perception of time?"
"Ah, who can say?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he threw the glittering green powder into the flames. "Who can say."
After she returned to Hogwarts, Hermione ran for the room where everyone had Time-Turned from, still in her Wizengamot robes. She arrived shortly after 4pm, panting, her eyes taking in everyone there.
Everyone was accounted for, and no one looked injured or damaged. Rather, they all looked very dusty, and many of them very tired, but everything seemed okay. Tracey, Millie, Pansy, Luna, and Susan were all collapsed on what looked like conjured bean bag chairs at the far end of the room, half-napping. Harry, Draco, Blaise, and Theo were standing closer to the door, presumably right next to where Hermione herself had vanished from when she'd Time-Turned back.
"How did it go?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Did it work?"
Theo gave Hermione an annoyed look and took out his wand, casting privacy charms and curses around the room and on the door before the others began to speak.
"It went well," Harry began, speaking slowly and considering his words. "There were a few unexpected hiccups, but—"
"Oh, it went off without a hitch," Blaise said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Everything worked perfectly – Harry got us through the wards, we packed the books into trunks, sent them to the covenhouse, dumped them out, and brought them back again. Everything went smoothly—" his eyes blazed "—except for the House Elf."
There was immediately a horrified, sinking feeling in her stomach.
"The House Elf?" Hermione repeated, ill. "Sirius Black has a House Elf?"
"Err—yeah," Harry admitted. "Kreacher. He's old and half-mad, but he found us in the middle of grabbing all the books—"
A vague memory of Sirius mentioning Kreacher echoed in her memory, but he'd pointed at the House Elf heads mounted on the wall, and that had been the detail that stuck with Hermione – not the fact that he still had a House Elf living there.
"It's okay," Draco said hastily, stepping forward to reassure Hermione. "I mean, yes, he caught us, but when he learned I was a young master of the House of Black, he was all too thrilled to help us load up the books."
"He didn't seem to like Sirius," Harry said diplomatically. "He kept going on about how much of a disgrace he was to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black…"
"Anyway, what's more important," Draco said, "is that he gave us this."
He withdrew a very ratty black bag that looked like it had been made with old robes, burlap, and twine. He dumped the contents onto a desk, Hermione looking at it curiously.
"What's this?" she asked, glancing at Draco. "It's… a necklace?"
"It's Slytherin's locket," Draco said. "At least, we think it is. But—"
"We didn't exactly want to test it by trying to get it to open," Blaise cut in testily, "considering what might be inside."
Hermione's mind finally clicked, and she gasped.
"Wait, I'm sorry – are you saying Sirius Black's House Elf just gave you a horcrux—"
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Blaise said, folding his arms.
"He said Regulus had asked him to destroy it before he died," Draco said diplomatically, "but Kreacher hadn't been able to…"
Harry sighed.
"He told us this whole story," he told Hermione. "It… it wasn't pretty. Regulus apparently betrayed Voldemort in secret and died getting this horcrux – Kreacher said he was pulled into a lake by inferi. But… well. We've got one more horcrux now?"
They all looked at the locket which lay on the desk, gleaming unnaturally. Hermione considered it and sighed.
"And as far as the library?" she asked, circling back around. "What state did you leave it in?"
"Turned into a fake jungle paradise," Luna said, coming over. She looked very tired, but she smiled up at Hermione. "The Weasley Twins' prank picture book worked perfectly – the illusion became real, and it was easy to throw a few decoy books around for the tigers to shred and leave lying around in the savanna."
Hermione blinked.
"I don't think that was quite how they explained the plan to me," she said diplomatically, "but I'm very glad it worked."
"But we have a loose end," Blaise said, annoyed. "The House Elf. He can betray us and tell anyone what we were doing."
"Well, not anyone," Draco argued. "Only someone from the House of Black—"
"That's still too many people!" Blaise snapped. "We've got to do something. And it's not like I love the idea of killing a House Elf, but if we need to—"
"I don't think we'll need to kill anyone," Hermione said thoughtfully, thinking. "I have an idea for Kreacher that just might work."
