Chapter 60: Australian Holiday


It was the early morning of December 24, 1998, in Melbourne, Australia, when a slightly worse-for-wear Hermione Granger finally ended her 40-hour-long, three-leg trip and stepped onto Australian soil.

Hermione's fellow passengers had done something no one was able to before.

They made Hermione appreciate all forms of wizarding transportation. Truly, she could've done well with fewer removable shoes, pointy elbows, and reclining seats.

Lucky for everyone, including the young witch herself, Hermione's wand was purposefully left in London.


Hermione had cleared passport control and was on her way to the baggage claim area when several officers approached her.

'Miss Hermione Granger?' asked one of them clearly already knowing the answer. 'Please follow us.'

'Your greeting party was notified of your delay,' added another one as she deftly relieved Hermione of her carry-on.

'The length of the delay is going to be up to you,' added the third.

The seemingly casual wave by one of the officers to direct her momentarily revealed the unmistakable tip of a wand in a forearm holster.

Hermione's objections died on her tongue.

The officers ushered Hermione towards the personnel-only passageway and through a labyrinth of similarly looking corridors.

After a few minutes of walking, the group stepped into a windowless room. The room had only a desk with two chairs on opposite sides, and a bench along the far wall.

The officer-likely-in-charge took the chair facing the bench, and nodded to the other chair for Hermione to sit down.

Her carry-on meanwhile was wheeled past her. It was deposited on top of the bench. One of the junior officers started fiddling with the lock.

Hermione's outrage fizzled before it had a chance to take hold.

Her checked-in luggage was already in the room, in the far corner, clearly searched.

The magical books from her suitcase sat on the otherwise empty desk, unglamored.

This was not regular border control.

Hermione slowly sat down into the indicated chair.

'Why am I here?'

Hermione's apprehension rose.

An issue with the Muggle paperwork was one thing. An issue requiring a luggage search by the local version of the DMLE was very much another.

Spells were cast over her and her Muggle paperwork. One of the spells Hermione recognized as a dispelling charm.

Her questions and protests were ignored as if never voiced.

Instead, she was asked a series of questions regarding her identity and the details and reasons for her trip.

For a time, it seemed the problem was with some unobserved formality.

'Your wand?'

Hermione looked between the Officer-in-Charge across the table and a junior officer standing expectantly next to her.

'I don't have it! It's in London.'

The officers exchanged disbelieving looks.

'I'm here to see my family. I had no intention of visiting any of the wizarding sites. I didn't realize any special paperwork was required… I'm traveling as a Muggle. I have proper Muggle papers, and a return ticket for the night of January 1. Here-'

She went to retrieve the printed out tickets from her jacket. But a wand and a quiet sit down stopped her on her tracks.

'These,' the officer nodded to the books, 'are not Muggle books, Miss Granger.'

'Before you interfered, the books were glamored!' Hermione snapped, frustrated. Surely they weren't about to blame her for violating the Statute. 'They are dictionaries. Even unglamored, Muggles would think of them as nothing but a fairytale prop!'

Hermione paused. Officer didn't look surprised, or pacified, by her statements.

'Why isn't your wand with you?'

'Because I didn't want it with me!'

'Why are you travelling as a Muggle?'

'Didn't want the Ministry to refuse or rescind the portkey at the last minute.'

'Miss Granger, even here we've heard of you. Why would your Ministry mistreat their war hero?'

Hermione would have loved to know that as well. Of course, after the Ballroom thing, the Ministry had a tad more reasons to be spiteful. Not that she was showered in good will from them before that situation.

'You must have not heard about the Marriage Law then!' Hermione went with the less compromising, though no less truthful, comment. 'Even married people now have difficulty leaving the country. Surprise! Not many are eager to procreate on demand!'

The officer's response was interrupted by a loud Sir.

One of the juniors looking through Hermione's carry-on held the copy of Bellatrix's mysterious parchment.

Hermione held her breath. She was afraid this unfortunate encounter was about that. Bellatrix explicitly warned against showing the writing to the aurors. But, this was a copy in Hermione's own hand with a few translation notes added to it, written in a Muggle ink, on a cheap Muggle paper. For all intents and purposes, this was just some gibberish on a scratch paper.

The officer took a moment to study the paper. He then cast several inaudible spells on it.

His look changed from exasperation to something else. The junior officers were ordered out of the room.

Hermione swallowed under the foreboding look.

'This isn't about the Statute of Secrecy violation, is it? Something else is the matter.'

He looked at Hermione the same way Harry looked at the portraits of wanted Death Eaters.

'Miss Granger, it is a grave offense to cast or facilitate the casting of allegiance pledges in Australia. Such binds are not permitted. Not for marriage. Not for debt settlements. Not for apprenticeships. Not ever.' He looked at Hermione like she was a cockroach. 'Brits may hold to their little traditions, but here-'

Hermione's own temper rose. He was accusing her of holding on to traditions.

'I haven't-'

The palm slammed over the paper.

'This is the vilest I've seen. And I've seen plenty!'

The vehemence in the words was startling. And there was no time to ask anything.

A cup with clear liquid appeared in front of Hermione.

'Drink!'

Hermione folded her arms.

'I don't think so!'

'We go this route. Or you can be detained. I have no desire, or time, to guess which is true and which is not in your stories.'

Hermione gaped at the wizard. She couldn't reconcile the scrap of unreadable paper and the dire situation she was clearly in.

'Detained for how long?! What have I even done?! My family is expecting me! It's the holidays!'

'Then perhaps you should take this opportunity to explain.'

Hermione had had it with the various authorities.

'No! I have rights. Nothing in my bags is illegal! Not the books. Not that gibberish of a paper! Using Muggle transportation by a witch is not illegal either!' She jumped to her feet. 'On what authority are you detaining me?! What have I done?!'

The wizard rose.

'Drink the potion, Miss Granger. Or don't.'

After a rather impressive staredown, Hermione sat back into the table. And so did the wizard.

'You can't ask me about my personal life, about personal conversations. I don't agree to that. I want you and whoever is watching this to know!'

'Drink, Miss Granger,' the wizard repeated as if she hadn't said anything.

Reluctantly, Hermione took several sips of veritaserum.

After verifying responses to previous questions as accurate under the serum, the officer nodded at the mystery writing.

'What is this?'

'I don't know!'

'Why are you translating it?'

Honestly!

Hermione looked to the ceiling.

'Because I don't know what that is?' she cursed silently as the potion compelled her to restate the obvious. 'Because I don't know what that is!'

'Miss Granger, must I remind you it is in your interest to cooperate fully. Serum ensures sincerity. Whether your explanations would be enough to excuse your transgression remains to be seen.'

'I'm answering your questions! What more do you want?!'

'Answer them better.'

Hermione wanted to scream. She settled for a Bellatrix-worthy glare.

'Where did you get it?'

Hermione bit her lip, clenched her fists, thought meaningless thoughts, yet the answer poured out of her as if she had done nothing at all.

'I asked Bellatrix a question. She gave me this. Bellatrix is my wife.'

'Bellatrix Lestrange. Convicted Death Eater. Currently on house arrest. She gave you this?'

Just then, Hermione felt a different kind of apprehension.

She rubbed her face to wipe the image of the flat accusatory black eyes staring past her... from behind some dungeon bars.

'It's not her fault! She knew I won't let stuff go. The way the Marriage Law is towards people like her... convicts, and because of our history… She gave me this, because I insisted. But, she has discouraged me from pursuing it.'

The wizard stared into space for a few moments, eyes narrowed, thinking.

'What questions-' he shook his head. 'Forget that. Where did she get it?'

'I don't know.'

'When did you see these writings first?'

'Uhm… Saturday before last.'

'Does Bellatrix Lestrange know what this is?'

'I don't know.'

'Do you believe Bellatrix Lestrange knows what this is?'

Hermione bit her tongue but still it was no use.

'Yes'

The officer narrowed his eyes in annoyance but said nothing. He knew what she was doing. Answering truthfully but very literally was a way around the veritaserum. It still required certain mental discipline. And, with experienced interrogator the trick wasn't very useful.

'Have you translated the text?'

'Why would I have books with me if I had?! No I haven't!'

The wizard straightened the creased paper.

'Is this all of your progress?'

The repeated runes and words were underlined. Several had translations against them. Several had a penciled list of possible meanings. The progress looked rather pitiful.

'Yes! Look, I don't even know what language this is supposed to be! Hence all the dictionaries!'

In her frustration Hermione absentmindedly gulped the rest of the clear liquid in the glass.

'Brilliant!' She rubbed her face when she realized what she drank. 'Look, even the extra serum won't make me say what I don't know!'

'What do you think this is? Speculate' came the snapped instruction.

Hermione sighed.

'Maybe it all means nothing at all. Maybe Bellatrix wrote utter gibberish to make me stop bothering her. She is great at that, you know. At redirections.'

The wizard waited.

Hermione sighed again.

'Or maybe, see how the blood rune appears throughout the text, thirty four times in one page, and knowing Bellatrix's obsessions… maybe, this is some old ode to the purity of blood! To show me my place. She is great at that too.'

Hermione glowered at the empty glass. She didn't mean to add the last sentence.

The show-and-not-tell Bellatrix had promised didn't happen.

Ginny ended up in St. Mungo's with pregnancy complications that Sunday. Hermione spent the day with Harry, at the hospital waiting room. The following week was dedicated to finishing up school work, dealing with Hogwarts Liaison commitments, and the last minute gift shopping for her family.

Hermione was too tired, and a bit reluctant, to attempt Legilimency in the free evenings before her trip. Bellatrix's mind wasn't the mind to visit lightly. Bellatrix didn't look happy about the delay. Yet, she refused to change her position on showing rather than telling.

'Miss Granger can be allowed into the country,' the ceiling glowed as it spoke. 'Hold the books, confiscate the ritual.'

'Miss Granger, I'd rather skip the hassle of charging the Brits' hero.' The ceiling continued. 'Don't test Australia's goodwill. The books will be returned to you on your trip back to Britain.'

'Wait, you know what this is?!' Hermione addressed the ceiling, and the wizard. 'You have to tell me!'

'You don't need to know, Miss Granger.'

The extra dose of the truth serum still ran through Hermione's system. For a solid minute the ceiling, and the wizard, were subjected to a rapid listing of all the reasons why Hermione really really needed to know. Some, more personal than others.

Only when another cup of clear liquid was sat in front of Hermione, and absentmindedly gulped, Hermione's compulsion to speak the truth was tempered once again by the social norms.

Hermione covered her face with both hands and groaned.

The wizard waved her bags to zip and ushered Hermione out of the room, and out of the airport.


The next days were spent in a whirlwind of events.

For a brief time Hermione got to see what her life, her young adult life, would have been like had she never known of Hogwarts. It wasn't all boring and mundane. As a bonus, it lacked the turmoil of the war, and the humiliation of forced government-regulated marriages.

Christmas with the Granger clan was loud, and fun. But it was also bittersweet.

Her Granger grandfather had three siblings. Her father, though an only child, had nine cousins, four of which were close in age to him. Hermione at this point had more than 20 second cousins just from the Grandpa Granger side, seven of them were around Hermione's age or a bit older.

Almost everyone managed to come.

She hadn't been hugged so much in forever.

The last time Hermione joined a large family gathering was years ago. At the time, she was still high on her new discoveries of the wizarding world, still optimistic, still the most accomplished at school among her cousins, still confident she'd succeed in Muggle and in the Wizarding world.

She might not have been the easiest to put up with. If the exaggerated teasing from her cousin group was anything to go by.

All of them were at colleges. Most had some type of a plan for the future.

All but her.

In their eyes, she was single, still at boarding school at nineteen years of age, still exploring her options for a career.

She had sounded more put together when she was twelve!

'Research!' She blurted after another understanding look at her non-answer. 'I'm going into the research of classified ancient texts. So, I can't speak much about stuff.'

That was as good a lie as any. And it wasn't that far a stretch. Latin and Ancient Runes came in handy to prove her point.


Once in a while the airport encounter popped into Hermione's mind, spoiling the holiday cheer, filling her interchangeably with outrage and with dread.

..grave offense to cast or facilitate the casting of allegiance pledges... ..in marriage... ..in debt settlements... ..apprenticeships...

She wondered if some pledge was the reason she killed Rabastan Lestrange. Had Bellatrix cursed her with it somehow? Perhaps Hermione wasn't the Head of House after all... Perhaps, Hermione was bound to protect Bellatrix... There were a few occasions where she had protected her, at a high personal cost.

She pushed such thoughts away. The Australians would have told her if she were indeed cursed. Surely.

Bellatrix and Rabastan could've had some debt between the two of them. Perhaps that was the reason he was intent on killing Bellatrix. He kept saying nothing personal as he sent curses at them. Perhaps, Rabastan, indeed, wouldn't have stopped, wouldn't have negotiated. Perhaps, it was a till-death-do-us-part type of pledge...

The Dark Mark was a type of commitment too. Was that gibberish of a paper a key to understanding the hold Voldemort had over his followers, over Bellatrix. Was she trying to justify her crimes?..

Hermione refused to spiral into more and more elaborate explanations.

So, she went out partying with her cousins.


Partying as a Muggle was wild.

The Ministry wanted her to become a mother in 31 months or less… Or else.

Her parents were staying in Australia permanently.

There were many things to not think about.

The days between Christmas Day to New Years Day turned into an ever changing kaleidoscope of experiences. There might have been some colorful illicit pills involved on one or two occasions. Hermione preferred not to dwell on that.

Cousins Night Out…

Bachelorette Party…

Another Cousins Night Out…

Mega clubs…

Lesbian clubs…

Pool parties…

Beach parties…

The skimpy dressed attractive people on the dance floor…

The looser customs…

The anonymity the Muggle world provided…

The guys with Quidditch... uh.. with surfer bodies and easy smiles… whose names Hermione didn't bother to learn…

The girls without murderous tendencies or hang-ups about personal space... some of whose names Hermione even managed to remember, for a time.

Sarah, with an arrogant attitude, and kind dark eyes… Lauren with unruly black hair … Jess with blood red lips… Melissa, with an ever present smirk, and the dance moves to kill… Kat, whose name and whose kisses were the only things Hermione was able to recall…

The real life returned with a drop of a scroll. A tiny scrap of parchment in the sand read:

"If you won't be returning you would tell me, won't you?
Please do.
B."


Hermione spent her last hours in Australia brooding, and explaining, badly, to her parents why she simply couldn't relocate to Australia.

Then, she tried to explain the same, just as badly, to herself.


End of Chapter 60