Hermione, Millie, and Tracey all took showers after they got to their dorms, careful to scrub off any Potions remains or smells. Hermione carefully patted her hair dry with a towel before putting it into two braids to finish drying. Tracey barely had to do anything to dry her own short hair, just towel it off upside-down, while Millicent looked at her own hair in the mirror, hanging straight and damp and lank.
"Should I do anything with it?" she asked. "I want to look mature, but if they know I made too much of an effort, they'll know we suspect something is up."
"How can we not suspect something is up?" Tracey pointed out. "We've been summoned to the Ministry. I'd say that's pretty far out of the norm."
Dinner was awkward and quiet, the four of them trying to be relaxed and eat when they were clearly tense. Draco and Daphne kept casting glances at them, but the four of them stayed isolated, only talking quietly amongst themselves, working out a couple secret signals they could use or codewords they could drop to indicate a particular secret that had to be sacrificed and revealed.
They left dinner early, Blaise bidding them good-bye as the three girls went to get ready in their dorm about an hour before they were to meet Dumbledore.
"It's times like these I'm glad I let my mum push me into getting more formal robes," Hermione said, going through her clothes. "I don't know what I'd do if I had to wear one of my school ones."
"Wear the green one," Millie advised. "The one you were photographed in as a hero for the paper."
Hermione hesitated. "It's not that formal, though."
"It's silk, so it's formal enough," Tracey said firmly. "You're a student; no one's going to be expecting you to be parading around in velvet robes or embroidered corsets."
The three of them changed quickly, taking time to carefully apply makeup – if there was ever a time to look their best, this was it. Hermione was careful to shade her eyes in a way that made her eyes appear slightly bigger, for a more open, youthful, and innocent look. Though she loathed indulging in such vanity, Hermione found the effort worth it this time.
Anything that could help her look innocent right now, she was going to use.
Hermione managed to jinx her hair and curl it some, getting smooth waves with a bit of a pretty twist at the bottom, and she carefully pinned the front parts back with a bobby pin and her Malachite butterfly. Tracey beamed upon seeing it, while Millie only smirked, but both wisely said nothing.
All too soon, the requisite hour was upon them.
Hermione glanced at the clock. "Let's go."
They met Blaise in the common room. He was wearing very sharp robes of a deep blue, ones that brought out the light in his eyes and complimented his coloring. Hermione looked him up and down. He looked formal and ready, as intended, but he also looked very handsome in them, which she hadn't quite expected, and she felt herself blush slightly as her eyes drank him in.
"You ready?" he asked. Though it was addressed to the group, his eyes were on Hermione, and she shivered slightly.
"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," Hermione said, managing a faint smile. "Let's go."
Trying very hard to stomp down on their collective anxiety, the four of them made their way to the Entrance Hall. Upon reaching the Entrance Hall, however, they were surprised to see another student waiting for them, an older one. He was tall, with messy dirty blond hair and dark eyes, wearing formal robes of a bright yellow and gold.
"All of you going to the Ministry?" he said, grinning. "I suppose that makes sense."
"You're going too?" Blaise asked pointedly, and the boy's eyes widened.
"Oh, sorry! I didn't introduce myself!" he said. He gave them a short bow. "I'm Gabriel Truman – Hufflepuff prefect and Youth Representative to the Wizengamot."
"The Wizengamot?" Millie's eyes sharpened.
He gave her a puzzled look. "Of course. The entire assembly will be there."
Hermione wanted to probe more about that, but Dumbledore descended the stairs at that exact moment, cutting off any line of inquiry she could have made. His robes were a deep purple with silver piping, and he was wearing a small gold medallion hung from a green ribbon pinned to his chest, and another hung from a purple ribbon right below it. Hermione and the Slytherins all straightened instinctively, their faced wiped clean of anything but a casual curiosity of where they were going.
"Everyone here? Everyone ready? Excellent!" He clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling brightly at them. "I am glad the weather has decided to have mercy on us tonight and not drizzle quite so much. It's much better to see the late spring sun, don't you think?"
Dumbledore and Gabriel led the way, Gabriel chatting about Lockhart's new History class with the Headmaster as they walked. Hermione lingered behind a little, clumping with her friends.
"The Wizengamot is going to be there?" she asked quietly.
Millie looked uneasy.
"It's one of the main parts of the government," she said. "They mostly make the laws, but they also serve as the High Court of the land. They handle high profile cases – murder trials, Dark arts accusations, the like. If it's a big enough crime to make the Daily Prophet, they're usually the court that handles it."
"And the Hufflepuff boy is part of it?" Tracey asked. "I mean, he's not even of age, yet."
"That's the point," Millie said, keeping her voice low. "The Wizengamot consists of 50 people: 28 seats for the Sacred 28, 8 seats for the Ministry department heads, 13 regional representatives, and 1 British Youth Representative who's not supposed to be more than 17 years old. That's who Gabriel is."
"What's Dumbledore, then?" Hermione asked, her voice quiet.
"Chief Warlock," Millie whispered back. "He's like the Master of Ceremonies."
As they exited the Hogwarts grounds, Hermione tried very hard not to obsess over the fact that the entire High Court of the land was going to be there.
"Have you all traveled by Portkey before?" Dumbledore asked, extending a broken flowerpot to them all. They all nodded. "Excellent. Everyone put a finger on. In three… two… one…"
Despite the violent yank behind her navel and the sensation of twisting and spinning, Hermione was pleased to land on the other side standing, not feeling nauseated at all. The air and earth magic inside her had helped settle her stomach before it had even gotten upset. She watched her friends with a wince, Tracey and Millie visibly struggling to keep their dinners down.
Dumbledore waited patiently for their stomachs to settle.
"If you're all ready, then?" he said, smiling. "Let's go."
Hermione looked around the Ministry Atrium. She'd been here once before, years ago, when she and her mother had gone to register the Granger home as a magical household. The Atrium looked different in the dark, odd light from glowing balls near the ceiling casting a weird, dim light over the area.
Dumbledore escorted them toward the elevators, but then instead of taking one, he curved back behind them and led them down a hallway Hermione wouldn't have known was there. The hallway was extremely narrow – they had to go down single file.
"This doesn't make sense," Hermione could hear Millie mutter from the back. "We should be going to Level 10 or Level 2…"
The hallway opened up into a much larger hallway, with several rooms going off of it, each with large, fancy double doors. Dumbledore walked past two of them to the third, which was cracked open, light and the sound of voices spilling out of it.
"After you," he bid with a smile, and, squaring her shoulders, Hermione determinedly went inside–
– only to stop suddenly in shock, gaping.
It was a party.
There were tables set up with hors d'oeuvres on one side of the room. Adults in dressy, formal robes mingled, holding wine glasses as they chatted, and there was a small band set up at the back, a few string instruments and a French Horn playing music at a low volume as the crowd mingled. At the far end of the room was a dais with a podium set up on it, and the more Hermione looked around, the more and more she relaxed, before she was laughing and smiling as the rest of her friends finished entering, their eyes as wide as hers.
"It's a party," Hermione said, laughing with relief. "It's a party."
"Of course it's a party," Dumbledore said, looking at her with indulgent eyes. "Wizards celebrate with parties too, you know." His eyes sparkled. "Enjoy yourselves, but do avoid the wine – it's jinxed so anyone underage who tries it will have it run right through them, with dramatic and possibly embarrassing results."
He wandered away, and Hermione just stood still for a long moment, watching as adults circulated and chatted with each other. Tracey, Millie, and Blaise stood with her, all of them silently looking at each other, tension slowly draining as they realized their paranoia was all for naught.
"Glad we all wore silk robes," Blaise said wryly. "Can you imagine if we came to this in uniform?"
"What even is this?" Millie demanded. "A party, sure, but why?"
"It's for Hermione."
Hermione looked up to see Gabriel Truman behind them, grinning.
"It's to celebrate Hermione defeating the basilisk and saving the school," Gabriel told them. He looked down at Hermione. "The Ministry wasn't much help with that, sure, but they want to properly recognize you for what you did."
"Then why did we get to come?" Tracey asked plainly. "We didn't have anything to do with saving the school."
Gabriel shrugged.
"Usually at these things, guests of honor are permitted three guests," he said. He looked them over. "Generally, it's a partner and the person's parents, but your parents are muggles, aren't they?" He gave them a half-smile. "I guess your friends are filling in."
"For my parents?" Hermione gaped.
"And partner," Gabriel added helpfully.
"Dibs on partner," Blaise said immediately, taking Hermione's hand and putting it on his arm with a wide smirk. He grinned, and Hermione rolled her eyes but laughed, cheeks coloring.
"I'm the mother!" Tracey piped up immediately. "I want to be Hermione's mum!"
"So I have to be her dad?" Millie groaned. "How's that fair? I'm more womanly than you, Tracey!"
"Are not!" Tracey defended hotly. "Just 'cause you have bigger breasts—"
"You kids have fun," Gabriel said, stifling laughter, and he wandered off as Tracey and Millie bickered about who was who, Hermione fighting a smile and laughter as they did.
"So it was just coincidence it was us four?" she asked. "Snape just decided for me what friends of mine would be going with me?"
"Probably wanted his Slytherins to get the opportunity over others," Blaise said, smirking. "Besides, if it was supposed a surprise, telling you to hunt down three friends could have given it away."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smirked. They all looked around the party, taking in the decorations and sights.
"That's my Dad," Millie said, eyes stuck on a point across the room. "I'm going to go head him off - the last thing I need is him embarrassing me here..."
Tracey wandered off, happy and curious, and Hermione turned to Blaise.
"Should we circulate?" she asked. "I mean, if it's a party for me, should I be meeting people?"
Blaise gave her a smile.
"It's an excellent networking opportunity, though we're a little young," he admitted. He looked her up and down, his eyes darkening. "At least we both look a little older tonight."
"Thank you. Hopefully it'll help with making good first impressions," Hermione said, fighting her blush. She tossed her hair back. "Let's go."
Once they moved away from the entrance and more into the crowd, other people seemed to notice her and there was a murmur. A few people looked like they intended to talk to her after they finished their conversations.
"That's Pansy's mum, over there, talking to Draco's father," Blaise pointed out. "I think that's Lysander's mum lurking by the wall over there, Phaedra Lestrange." He lowered his voice. "Both her cousins are in Azkaban, so she's got the Lestrange seat right now, even though she's from a branch family."
"She's their blood relative, but she kept her own name when she married?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Is that common?"
Blaise snorted. "Lestrange is Sacred 28. Makes more sense for her husband to take her name than for her to take his."
A tall, stressed-looking woman came over toward them, one with bright, fierce eyes, and Hermione was relieved she'd looked her up before.
"Madam Bones," Hermione said, offering a curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Madam Bones looked her over, raising an eyebrow, before she smirked.
"You're not what I expected, Miss Granger," she said. "But I'm pleased to meet you all the same."
"May I present my companion, Blaise Zabini?" Hermione said, and Blaise offered a bow. "Blaise, this is Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"A pleasure," Blaise said. His eyes danced with mischief. "May I ask, Madam Bones, if Hermione is not quite what you expected – what did you expect?"
Madam Bones smirked.
"I'm not sure," she said, "but I didn't expect my niece's High Priestess to be the same type of person who would single-handedly go after and defeat a basilisk."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she fought not to react as Madam Bones looked down at the coven rings on Blaise's and her fingers. Hermione distinctly noted that Madam Bones did not seem to be wearing a coven ring of her own.
"My sister was a treasure, and she taught Susan the family magic well," Madam Bones murmured quietly. Her eyes glinted. "I am proud to see her following her mother's path and venerating magic properly. Too many of the youth take magic for granted nowadays…"
Madam Bones drifted away, and Hermione and Blaise relaxed as she did. They seemed to have made a good impression at least, and Madam Bones was not someone they wanted as their foe.
Together they went over to examine the hors d'oeuvres, enjoying trying the eclectic assortment of offerings. After they had filled tiny plates full of small snacks, they claimed a standing table by a wall and looked out over the crowd.
"That's Millie's father, Aldo Bullstrode," Blaise told her, indicating with a toothpick. "Over there is Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother – she's the one with the vulture hat on – and that's Geraint Weasley over there, I think he's an uncle to the Weasley kids we know..."
A few people came up to them throughout the night, introducing themselves. Hermione was always careful to give her best curtsy, no matter who approached. Some of the people were welcoming and kind, but others approached with calculated gleams in their eye.
"I understand you are to thank for the defeat of the monster that Petrified my daughter," Melker Travers said, after introductions were made. His eyes gleamed. "Despite possibly being the one who got her Petrified in the first place…"
Blaise stiffened next to her, but Hermione held her head high.
"Lillian was the one who chose to challenge me," she said. "If she hadn't been so arrogant, the Heir wouldn't have gone after her."
"The Heir… yes, one of her closest friends, Miss Rookwood." Melker smiled an oily smile. "How surprising, that her own best friend should attack her."
"From what I understand, sir, Rhamnaceae was being possessed," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "She wouldn't have had any control over who she was made to attack."
Travers' oily smile slipped into a scowl.
"Indeed," he said darkly. "Possessed. Because somehow our Chief Warlock has no wards against incredibly Dark objects finding their way into his school..."
"Something to take up with the Board of Governors, perhaps?" Blaise suggested.
Melker shot him a dark look. "Indeed."
There was tense pause while Melker looked them both over, before he gave Hermione a grudging look of admiration.
"I am glad you slaughtered the monster that attacked my daughter, regardless of why she was attacked," he said. He gave her a sharp, curt look. "Thank you."
Hermione gave the most gracious thank you she could, and with a curt nod, Melker finally went away.
Another person to approach them was a tall, dark man, one who Blaise seemed to know.
"Mister Nott," Blaise said, bowing. "If I might present Miss Hermione Granger? Hermione, this is Thoros Nott."
"Theo's father," Hermione said, her mouth dry. She dipped a curtsy. "Pleased to meet you, sir."
Thoros was older looking and looked something like a giant hawk made into a person. He had dark, sunken eyes and wore his robes draped broadly around him like closed wings, dark hair draping down the sides of his face to hide him away.
"The New Blood," he said, looking at her. His voice was gravelly, old.
"Yes," Hermione said simply.
Thoros examined her.
"My Theo has mentioned you before," he said, his words measured, deliberate. "His Potions partner, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," Hermione said, smiling a bit. "We work well together."
"Do you." It was not a question. "I was interested to learn you had defeated the basilisk and saved the Malfoy boy from harm."
"If it's any comfort, I would have gone after Theo as well?" Hermione offered, and Thoros snorted.
"Theo would not have gotten himself into such a mess in the first place," he said, his voice low. He examined her again, his eyes lingering on the butterfly pinned in her hair. "Still. I am glad to hear you are getting along with my son."
When he left, Hermione let out the shiver she had been holding back. Blaise stepped closer, resting a hand on her back and watching her with worried eyes.
"He's one of the first Death Eaters," she whispered to Blaise. "And he's here, just walking around."
"If he was never caught, he was never caught," Blaise said quietly. "What can you do?"
Hermione grimaced.
Soon, Minister Fudge was calling for silence, standing atop the dais in the front of the room behind a podium.
"If everyone would be so kind as to take their seats, please! Please take your seats!"
There were chairs in front of the dais, now, arranged in rows with an aisle down the middle. Hermione made her way to the chairs, finding one with her name on it in the very front. There were three other chairs near hers – labeled 'Mother', 'Father', and 'Date'. Hermione's face bloomed red as Blaise grinned, taking his seat. Tracey and Millie joined them shortly, Millie groaning as she sat down.
"My father's been hassling me all evening," she said, despairing. "It's a party, but no, now is when he wants to catch me up on all the recent political maneuvering he's been doing."
"Well, I've been enjoying the party," Tracey said, tossing her head. She grinned, wicked. "And I have been doing some political maneuvering of my own."
"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. "How?"
Tracey turned to answer her, but the room darkened and the crowd fell into a hush. Lights lit up the dais, and everyone looked to the front where the Minister stood on the stage. He looked out over them all, smiling, and for the first time, Fudge didn't look as anxious or nervous or as blustering as Hermione remembered him being.
"Well, this is rather different," Fudge began, giving his audience a wry grin. "Most presentations I've given regarding this topic lately have been in a rather different vein." There was scattered laughter, and Fudge's lips quirked at the sides, before he settled quickly.
"As we all know, terrifying attacks began happening at Hogwarts this year," the Minister said, his voice grave. "Students were found petrified in the hallways, a professor was attacked in the Entrance Hall, and even a ghost was sent catatonic somehow. Students and teachers alike were afraid, and no one had any idea of what to do. Nothing seemed like it could be done.
"Enter Hermione Granger."
To her mild surprise, Fudge's speech was compelling, his voice modulating and capturing his audience. It was clear to Hermione how Fudge had become a politician. He might be a bit of a fool and easily manipulated, but he was born to be an orator.
"I have only known Hermione for a short time," Fudge continued, "and even in that short time, it became clear to me that she is a young woman who gets things done."
"You met the Minister?" Tracey hissed at her.
"No," Hermione hissed back.
"—at the top of her class, continually impressing her professors with magic and ability beyond her years," Fudge went on. "And when she saw one of her classmates in danger, she didn't hesitate to run after the monster and do what was necessary to save both him and the school."
"She did so at great risk to herself, and she did so even knowing what the beast she would face would be," Fudge said, his voice strong, hard. "Because of her selflessness, because of her act of incredible bravery, her classmate Draco Malfoy is alive today, and her fellow students are in danger of attack no longer.
"Though it should not have been upon a student to save her school, and the Ministry should have done better, the Ministry stands proud to recognize Hermione Granger for what she has done," Fudge said. He paused, his eyes focusing on the front row of the crowd. "Hermione, if you would join me onstage?"
Hermione froze in her seat, glancing at Blaise, who only smirked and pushed at her to go.
She climbed the stairs on the right side of the dais, ascending the platform with steady steps, determined not to look frightened or stunned. The crowd from up here was hard to see with the lights in her eyes, but the fifty people from the party suddenly looked like many more.
"The Order of Merlin is an award established to bestow great honor upon witches and wizards who have done or achieved great things for the wizarding world," Fudge began, and Hermione could see him withdraw a small, ornate box from the podium. "There is the Third Class, given to individuals who have made a contribution to our store of knowledge or entertainment. There is the Second Class, awarded for achievement or endeavor beyond the ordinary. And then there is First Class - which is awarded for acts of outstanding bravery or distinction."
Fudge turned to her, offering a smile.
"Hermione, if you would please step forward?"
Hermione stepped forward, shaking, stunned at what was about to happen. The Minister withdrew a large golden medal from the box on the podium, hung on a green silk ribbon. She turned to face the Minister, her back to the crowd as Fudge stepped in front of her.
"Of behalf of the Ministry of Magic, and all the young witches and wizards who owe you their safety and their lives," Fudge said, "I award you the Order of Merlin, First Class." He put the medal over her head, draping the ribbon around her neck so the medal hung down her front. He smiled. "May you live long and serve magic through all your life."
There was an eruption of applause, and Hermione whirled around to see the crowd, the lights of the room blinding her.
Once her eyes had cleared somewhat, she could see. Everyone was applauding, Dumbledore beaming up at her, proud. Blaise and Tracey and Millie were clapping as loudly as they could from the front row, grinning at her, and Hermione couldn't help but grin back. And the crowd had grown – in the back, now, there were reporters with cameras, flash bulbs going off as she stood there stunned, medal heavy and hanging around her neck.
Though she was stunned, Hermione was aware of a slowly-growing sense of honor within her. She'd earned an Order of Merlin. And unlike the award Dumbledore had given her in front of her peers, this one felt like it mattered, like it wasn't performative. This one felt like people were celebrating, and Hermione felt a thrill when she remembered that she'd been at a party all evening - they were celebrating her.
Fudge stepped up beside her, offering her a grin.
"Bit overwhelming the first time, isn't it?" he said softly.
"It is," Hermione managed. She looked up at him. "Does it get any better?"
"The more you experience this, the easier it gets." His lips quirked. "Let's hope I don't need to reward you for saving your school more than once, but I hope to see you go on to do many great things."
"I'll have to earn the purple one and the white one, next," Hermione murmured. "Need to collect the whole set."
Fudge chuckled. "Are you ready?"
Hermione merely nodded, not knowing for what, and Fudge grinned as he took her right hand, holding it up to the sky.
"I present to you, Hermione Granger," he said, his voice booming throughout the room. He looked at her. "Order of Merlin, First Class."
The applause was deafening as Fudge pushed her to do a curtsy, a very formal curtsy of acceptance before the entire room, and the flashbulbs in the back of the room blinded her. The entire gathering was cheering and clapping, and loudly at that – and the conservative Slytherin pureblooded families seemed to be the loudest, applauding loudly with booming claps of their hands. From the front row, Blaise was whistling, and Tracey and Millie were screaming and shouting and stamping their feet, laughing.
Hermione had thought the Special Services to the School Award had been the end of it. She'd never expected this. But as she smiled out over the crowd, curtsying again, she mused that there probably wasn't a better way she could have possibly envisioned to help establish her name.
Her heart glowed within her, and Hermione felt satisfied.