a/n: Shout out poka, thanks for reviewing. I love Minerva and should write some works that explore that relationship a bit more!
Prompt 17: That's the biggest load of rubbish I've ever heard.
Prompt 19: You've really outdone yourself, you know that?
Prompt 33: Shame he spent all those years in Azkaban.
Prompt 29: I bet it's the nargles.
Chapter 6
Harry sat in his office, staring at the empty portrait of Albus Dumbledore. He wished he was surprised the headmaster was still missing. Pulling out the drawer for his quills, he yanked harder than he meant to, causing the contents to spill out. Something gold hit the floor and rolled under his desk. Pushing back from the desk, he tried to figure out what fell. Giving in, he knelt down and felt around. His hand hit something small and cool to the touch. It was the snitch Dumbledore willed to him. It was empty now that the resurrection stone had been discovered. He wasn't even really sure why he kept the ball. Sentimental reasons, he guessed. It was an ironic item to come across at that moment. The snitch represented Dumbledore's willingness to keep things from him until the very moment he needed to know about them. And not only that, Dumbledore let him carry it around without anything more than a cryptic clue to know what to do with it.
All the times they met to view the memories of Tom Riddle, the former headmaster could have come clean about the stone, about the snitch, about everything. Dropping the snitch back in the drawer, he sat back down and glared at the empty chair in the painting. It seemed there were even more secrets kept from him.
"Hey," Hermione's voice broke his concentration.
He saw her standing in his office doorway. It was still so surprising to see her again. It was simultaneously like no time passed and that they lost an eternity. All the times he spent laying awake, wondering what she was doing, wishing she was closer, wanting to get her advice on raising teddy, writing his lessons plans. It felt like he was missing a part of himself all these years. Then he accepted the idea that they'd forever be apart. "Hey," he finally said, starting to let himself believe she was a part of his life again.
"What happened?" she asked, concerned by his reaction. She crossed his office to get a better look at the wall of portraits. "Did Professor Dumbledore tell you what he knows?"
"No," he answered, taking in the smell of her shampoo as she leaned in closer to him. "No. I can't find him anywhere. I don't think he's at the school anymore."
She put her hand on his shoulder and made his stomach flip like he was a schoolboy again. "I'm sure he'll turn up. Should we walk to Hogsmeade?"
Harry shook his head, "I made an apparition exception for myself. At least until the threat is over in the forest," he explained and stood. Holding out his left hand, he took out his wand with his right. As soon as her hand rested in his, his anger at Dumbledore was pushed aside. Whatever was hidden from him they'd figure it out. He turned on the spot with her and appeared outside near the command post.
Before they could walk forward, she pulled on his hand. "Harry. Did you see The Daily Prophet?"
"No. I didn't have time. Do they know the ministry is here?" he asked, not sure it was his problem if there was a leak. The serious look on her face made him think it was something he needed to consider his problem.
"Not exactly. Rita Skeeter must have been hanging around yesterday. She knows I'm back and she wrote an article. About us."
"What about us?" he asked, confused.
Her face turned a light shade of red. "She's implied I've returned to rekindle our relationship now that you're the headmaster. She thinks I'm back because you're in a more prominent role and I'm chasing fame."
He was angry on her behalf. Rita Skeeter was a terrible person. The things she wrote about him and Hermione when they were just kids were beyond the pale. He understood that now that he was an adult. "That's the biggest load of rubbish I've ever heard. I'll talk to her," he said, with more venom that he intended.
"No. Harry, that's what she wants. She wants us to confront her so she can write about it. Let it be for now. I just wanted you to know in case someone brings it up."
Harry looked around. Rita could be there listening in. "We'll at least see if Williamson can keep her from compromising the operation," he said, planning the conversation he'd have with the head auror. Hermione was right that confronting Rita would likely make matters worse. He wasn't going to rule out indirectly sending her a message.
Hermione looked satisfied with his plan and walked forward into the command post. The aurors were gathered around a map of the grove. They had plenty of checkpoints, each one glowed green. It seemed the ministry was taking the protection seriously at least.
"Headmaster," Williamson greeted them as he sipped his coffee. "Assistant Director, I got your request to check the status of recently released snatchers and death eaters. There are only a handful, but we're looking into it."
She turned to explain to Harry, "I was trying to figure out how these people know where to go so precisely. We might need to consider someone stumbled on the grove when so many of Voldemort's loyalists were occupying the forest."
Harry nodded. It made sense. They also couldn't discount the possibility that a headteacher somewhere in the past shared the secret and it was written down or passed down. A small pang of guilt made Harry wonder if he should at least tell Williamson what's hidden in the grove. If the secret was going to be exposed spectacularly, what was the harm in telling one more person to try to stop the inevitable.
Before he could open his mouth, Hermione pressed forward. "I'm not sure if you saw the article yesterday."
The auror winced. "I did. I can't say I'm happy about that hack eavesdropping on our meeting. I imagine you two are more unhappy about that story than I am."
"Our relationship with Rita is… complicated," Hermione confessed. "I just want you to know she has the ability to hide in plain sight."
He nodded. "I reinforced our protections. While you're within the boundaries, she won't see or hear us."
Hermione looked at Harry. She was trying to decide if she should expose the journalist. He didn't understand why she still had this resistance. "Will it detect her if she isn't… human at the time?"
Williamson didn't look shocked by the question. "She's not getting in," he affirmed.
The status board updated. Harry looked at his watch. It was the eight o'clock update from the outpost. Harry stepped back to give Williamson space to process the status before the briefing.
"I saw Ron last night," Hermione said to him.
Harry was glad to hear this admission, but he was also surprised. If he hadn't had this issue at the school, he really couldn't say how long it would have taken her to let him know about her move. "You were worried he read the article."
She nodded. "He had. We had a good conversation. He thinks he has a way to hide us from detection if you want to go back inside the treaty zone."
"It might be the only way we're going to figure out who's inside. We'll need to get past the aurors now though too. Or tell them."
Hermione looked at the operations map. There were no attempts to breach the grove. "This mystery might just need to wait until the people trespassing in the forest are caught. Or until the ministry decides the threat is over."
Harry didn't think the issue would be resolved so cleanly. There was something else at work than just thieves trying to get rare goods to sell. He felt like they were trying to figure out a puzzle with only a handful of pieces. He didn't see any obvious way to get more pieces.
~~/~~
The caves were dark and damp. The similarities to Azkaban were unsettling. Stan Shunpike tried to forget those dark days from his past. It wasn't easy considering how disastrous his life had played out. Imperiused. False accusations. Fighting to prove his innocence. Then he was released from prison and his real troubles started. It didn't matter that Harry publicly supported him or that the minister exonerated him. He was harassed in public. Any job he managed to land, resulted in complaints from customers and he was eventually let go. Reduced to finding work in Diagon Alley just put another target on his back. Aurors would constantly question him, driving him further into the darker corners of the wizarding world. Literally, it would seem, navigating the cave system his current employers had commandeered.
The candle light was so dim, he could barely make out the people waiting for him. Squinting, he found his boss. "The ministry has the forest locked down. They know where we're trying to go."
"How is that possible? You said there were no alarms," Alecto said to a dark corner.
Stan shifted, trying to confirm the mysterious stranger was even there. He'd never seen his face.
"There are no alarms. They're too confident in their protections to think they need wizards to help them," the man said.
"So what do we do now? We can't take on a bunch of aurors," Amycus chimed in, annoyed.
"We don't have to take them on if we can get into the fairy mound without the use of force," the man in the corner explained.
Stan was frustrated. But luckily for him, the Carrows were more frustrated and weren't afraid to speak out.
"Did you suddenly come up with a spell that will get us inside then? Brilliant, let's hear it," Alecto snapped.
The tone didn't phase the man. Nothing did. "There is one person who can enter without spells or violence. The Headmaster."
Amycus scoffed. "You might not be aware. Harry Potter isn't exactly a friend of ours. He's not inclined to help us. In fact, he's probably the reason the aurors have figured out what we're doing so quickly."
"Everyone has a price," the man said.
"Not Potter," Stan spoke up. All eyes turned toward him and he lowered his head.
"I wouldn't be so sure," the man said, summoning a paper and opening it in the center of the group.
They all saw the picture of the aurors meeting in Hogsmeade. It was why they knew not to try another attempt to force their way into the treaty zone.
"Get the witch. He'll surrender himself to us to save her and she'll be easier to access than his son," the man said.
The Carrows leaned forward, interested now in the plan. "If we can't get her we can take Andromeda."
"That witch. If he loves her like the reporter suggests it will be a powerful motivator," the man pressed.
Stan hated the idea. He didn't trust the Carrows to no hurt Harry regardless of what happened. And Hermione didn't deserve to be pulled into the mess. He was feeling the same suffocating helplessness that led to him getting imperiused the first time around. He had to keep his head or the Carrows would curse him without a second thought. And there was no chance he'd convince anyone he was cursed a second time. "She just moved here and she's a high up in the ICW. It's not like she'll be an easy mark."
"Go to Hogsmeade. Put a tracker on her," Amycus said, digging in a bag. "If she just moved here, she might not have the strongest enchantments around her place. It will be best to jump her at her home." He handed Stan a small silver button. "Stick it on her robes, it will disappear as soon as it's engaged. Do it at the end of the day so she doesn't go to the ICW, they'll find when she goes through security."
Trying not to look skeptical, he tried to work out a way he could warn Harry without outing himself.
"You've really outdone yourself, you know that?" Alecto said to the man, and Stan was forced to agree before leaving the cave.
~~/~~
Hermione chose to work from the headquarters in Hogsmeade. There was no reason for her to hike all the way to the grove again. The lack of breaches had her convinced that Rita hadn't just outed her relocation, it would have alerted the thieves. They'd be laying low to see if the ministry would give up. She couldn't blame Rita completely. Hermione had worried from the beginning about this very outcome when she found out the ministry was planning to use Hogsmeade for the base of operations. As she flipped through the files of recently released suspects, she was actually surprised by how few Death Eaters had met parole requirements. It was clear the tribunal had taken the crimes seriously. The two Death Eaters she kept coming back to were the Carrows. They had been apprehended before the Battle at Hogwarts started so their crimes were limited to their torment of students. They were never accused of killing anyone. Fifteen years was… reasonable. On paper. Hermione had trouble not being personally offended the siblings were free. She had to consider she was so focused on them because of that lack of objectivity. Closing the files, she sat back. If it was the Carrows, they waited fifteen years to get back inside the forest. They could wait out the ministry's willingness to waste resources.
Standing, she stretched. It was late in the day. Nothing happened. Typically, she'd expect illicit activity to occur at night; however, the grove was so deep within the forest, she wasn't sure that logic applied. In fact, daylight was likely the safest time considering all the dangers. The map was clear. All checkpoints were green. It was hard not to think their window of opportunity was closed. Next to the map was a massive communications board for all active personnel. Returning the files to Williamson's secure inbox, she checked her own box. She flipped through several messages from her office. Most weren't related to this assignment. She felt the pull to focus her attention on her team in London. And if she felt that pull even though she felt a personal attachment, she was sure it was a matter of days before the aurors ended the operation. They could write it off as trespassers who were looking for rare items, found what they wanted and were long gone. They had no reason to believe there was more to it.
The last message in her hand was from Harry. She smiled seeing his handwriting again. He wanted to grab a butterbeer before she went home. This is why she moved back. To have a life at the end of the day. Using her wand, she confirmed she was free, and heading to the Three Broomsticks. Stepping outside the protections, she could tell if it was the nostalgia of the village that made her feel like a Hogwarts student again or if it was being around Harry. She didn't care.
"Hermione Granger?" someone called out in a hushed whisper.
She didn't recognize the voice. Turning toward the direction she thought it came from, she only saw groups of people headed toward the center of the village.
"Over here," a hand waved at her between a merchant cart and the side of the tea shop.
She was hesitant to engage in a conversation with the stranger, but knew a break in a case could come from anywhere. Weaving through the growing crowd, she came face to face with Stan Shunpike. It took her several seconds to realize who he was though. The years hadn't been kind to the wizard. "Stan. Hi. It's been a while," she started awkwardly offering her hand to shake.
He took it eagerly and patted her back several times with his free hand. He looked strung out. "Hi. Hey. I saw you were back," he said, shuffling his feet.
"Are you—" she started to ask if he was okay, but he cut her off.
"—other people have seen you are back too."
It was so abrupt and cryptic, she tried to understand what he meant exactly. "Uh. Oh, you mean Rita?" she asked, ready to wave off his concern.
He shook his head. "No… no… n-n-not her," he stuttered out. "The C-c-c…" His voice trailed off. Even he looked confused. "Hm. Other people," he repeated without an issue.
She grew concerned for him. He was dreadfully skinny. She dug in her pocket, pulled out some galleons, "You look like you could use a warm meal and safe place to sleep. Take this. Get a room for yourself at the Hogshead," she said, wishing she could do more for him. She didn't know what programs the ICW had to offer to support struggling witches and wizards. She didn't imagine Stan would be hard to find again. Dropping the coins in his hand. "If you want to stay longer, tell the Hogshead to send me a message at the ICW. I'll look for it." He looked like he was going to cry. Giving him a quick hug, she rubbed his arm. She didn't know what he'd been through, but was sure some of his issues were due to his time spent unfairly in Azkaban.
She was about to leave. He stopped her with a strong hold on her forearm. "Danger," he forced out. But couldn't get another word passed his lips.
"No. You're safe now. Get a room. I'll check on you later. I need to run, but I'll find you," she promised, stepping back. Tried to say something else, but finally gave up. He'd be more lucid with rest and food. Making a mental note to get to Hogshead early the next morning to give her extra time, she continued on to the Three Broomsticks. The sight of Harry Potter standing there waiting for her made her stomach flip. "You'll never guess who I just ran into," she said when she was a few steps away from him.
He looked over her shoulder, his eyes narrowed. "Rita?" he asked.
"No, no," she said, hooking her arm through his and leading him into the pub. "Stan Shunpike."
"Stan?" he asked, surprised. "I have seen him in years. Shame he spent all those years in Azkaban. It really did a number on him."
"That much was clear. He looks terrible."
Harry led her to a corner booth. Waiting until they were settled and beers were ordered, he filled her in on the mishaps he was familiar with. She felt even worse about his state.
"He was barely able to complete a sentence. I'll see what the ICW can do to help him," she told Harry. "How's Caleb settling in?" She changed the subject, not wanting to spend the evening talking about Stan. She wanted to know everything about Teddy and the Weasleys and how Harry was doing with his new duties at the school. She could help Stan in the morning.
~~/~~
Harry didn't want the night to end. He could listen to Hermione's stories until the morning. He knew she had an exciting life traveling and protecting muggles. It turned out, letters and hectic annual holiday visits didn't do her experience justice. He was genuinely proud of the life she made for herself. On her own merits. He could tell that was important to her. He was starting to understand why she left and stayed away. Remembering the chaos and demands on them immediately after the war, it was clear to him that she'd have had a harder time achieving the same level of professional success. After the war she was a third of the golden trio. In his mind, she was the main reason they'd been successful in their mission, but what everyone wanted to ask her was who she fancied more, himself or Ron. No one cared she used every minute of her time preparing for their horcrux hunt. No one cared she kept them safe as they hid from Death Eaters and Snatchers. They didn't ask how many death eaters she personally fought. What horcrux she destroyed. Those questions were always posed to him and Ron. And then the interviewers would ask her when she was going to settle down and have a family. If she had stayed in London and tried to pursue a career, the press would have hounded her and interfered with her duties.
He understood, she needed to leave so she could come back. He hated it for himself but was glad she broke free from the oppressive expectations.
"Last call," the barkeep called out.
Harry couldn't believe it was so late already. He checked his watch to be sure. How was it 2 a.m.? Rubbing his eyes to be sure, he sighed. They didn't need to catch up on fifteen years in one night. She was back for good. They could meet anytime. "I guess we have to call it a night," he said, poking the tip of his nose. He didn't know why it was numb. "Come on, I'll walk you to the floo," he said standing and regretting the quick change in elevation. "Uh-oh."
Hermione stood just as quickly to steady him. "Uh-oh. Can you apparate?" she asked. They both knew the answer.
"You go on. I'll get some water," he said, not wanting to hold her up.
She dug in her bag and came up empty. "I have sober up potion at home. It's not something I carry around."
"Hm. You were lecturing me about getting out and having fun." Her words from the day before were accurate. He suspected then that she recognized his lack of a social life was because it was so familiar to herself.
Rolling her eyes, she looked around. "My apparition won't get through your protections. I'll walk you back to the school."
Shaking his head violently, he regretted that more than standing up. "The headmaster can't be seen stumbling around like Trelawney trying to hide her sherry bottles. I'll get a room at the Hogshead."
"No. No way. Come with me. I have a great couch. I'll get you sober up and you can take a nap," she said, leaving coins on their bill and leading him away from the table.
He didn't protest. He wanted to see her flat. He wanted to see the home of Hermione Granger, world traveler and international agent. He was certain it wouldn't be the quaint cottage all those people years ago wanted her to keep with a brood of children. Not that there was anything wrong with that life if that's what she wanted. Harry knew back than it wasn't for Hermione. "You're amazing," he blurted out.
"Thank you," she said with a laugh. "You're special to me too."
"No. I mean yes. Of course, I think you're amazing. But I'm saying you are amazing. Whatever measure one uses to determine levels of amazing, you meet all of them." It was sappy. The alcohol didn't let him care. He loved her determination and smarts when they were at school together. Those qualities got them through impossible situations and they were now qualities others valued in her.
"Harry."
"Yeah."
"You're drunk."
"Yeah," he agreed. He stepped into the floo with her and let her take him twisting and turning through the network. When the world stopped spinning he shook his head. He suddenly felt a little less drunk. "Actually," he changed his mind. "I bet it's the nargles." It was an inside joke he shared with Teddy after Luna spent an afternoon with them years ago. It was a good way to explain feeling out of sorts with no reason to be.
"Sit," she commanded, pushing him gently toward a couch the size of an ocean. She disappeared toward a small hallway. "Nargles, honestly…" he heard her whisper.
He sunk into the soft cushions and groaned as his muscles relaxed. "You weren't kidding. This is the best couch I've ever experienced." Taking in what he could see, he noted that she kept her awards and accolades at home, not her office. They were her own personal pride, not something she used to increase her status. There was a wall of pictures from monuments around the world he'd never personally seen. She'd managed to take them from angles that avoid including crowds of people so you could just appreciate the focal point. Like she had managed to capture her own perspective. Lonely. And of course there were books. Everywhere he looked there were books.
"How did this happen?" she asked somewhere behind him.
He tried to sit up to see what had her attention. He couldn't get his arms to obey his commands. "What's wrong?"
She came into view, handed him a bottle of sober up, and sat down next to him. She had a book in her hand.
"You're going to read? Now?" he asked, struggling with the stopper before it finally popped loose. He drank the dose and felt the effects clear his mind. It was a small disappointment to lose his buzz, but he knew he'd appreciate not waking up with a hangover.
"No. It's my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It was on the floor. It was on my bookshelf when I left this morning," she explained, looking around the apartment. "Nothing else looks out of place—"
In a blink, four masked forms appeared in front of them, wands out.
