Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's Note: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.
And if you wait for me
I'll be the light in the dark if you lose your way
And if you wait for me
I'll be your voice when you don't know what to say
I'll be your shelter
I'll be your fate
I'll be forever
Ryan Star
Last Train Home
Chapter Seventeen: And the Heavens Shall Tremble
Tuesday, November 12th, 2002; 4:50 am
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Hermione struggled to stay awake as the new day was about to begin all around her. With every individual beep from the charm monitoring Harry's heart rate, her eyelids felt heavier and heavier. She had been up for nearly twenty-four straight hours, and had magically exhausted herself during that time. Her brain was still functioning, but she knew that it was running on the reserve tank, and even that was consuming fumes at this point.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Her bloodshot eyes settled on Harry's motionless form-with the exception of the slow rise and fall of his chest-and she wanted to cry, but she was too tired even for that. He looked oddly peaceful, laying there under the barren white sheets on the sterile metallic hospital bed. There were a few magical devices attached to him, one of which was producing that incessant and sleepy beeping noise as it counted the pulses of his heart.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Hermione slouched in her chair and rested her chin on her chest, closing her eyes and rubbing them with her index fingers. She was still wearing her Ministry robes and she knew they smelled like burnt fabric; she hadn't had any reason to move from this chair since she'd first seen Harry on the bed, so she hadn't even bothered to take them off. Fred, George, Ron, and Luna had brought her dinner late the previous night, sometime after eleven o'clock, but otherwise she had eaten nothing. Her stomach made its anger known as it rumbled lowly throughout the room.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Most of their closest friends and family had visited throughout the previous day and into the night, though there had not been anyone in three or four hours. She knew word had made it back to her parents about what had happened, and felt slightly guilty about them not being able to see Harry, at least not yet, but there was nothing she could do at the moment. Several of the visitors had described the extraordinarily tight security outside the hospital room, so Hermione did not want to deal with the headache of bringing her Muggle parents here right now.
Hermione's fearsome intellect had been grappling with the reality of Harry's near-assassination since she had showed up in Diagon Alley, and the one solid conclusion that she had reached was anger. It wasn't the all-consuming wrath she had felt upon seeing those Dementors bearing down on Harry's fallen form, and it wasn't an angry kind of despair; instead, it was seething, teeming, and unsettling fury at the world in general, which added up to a dull ache behind her eyes that was not going away.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Yesterday was supposed to be Harry's proudest moment. He had successfully won the office of Vice Minister and was looking forward to making an impact. Hermione knew Harry valued his current position and what it had taken to achieve far more than his defeat of Voldemort, because as the Vice Minister he could expose and possibly fix the weaknesses of their society Voldemort had exploited. Just when Harry was apparently savoring his victory, though, someone had attempted to end it all and kill him.
Hermione had seen Harry in battle. His presence in combat was legendary for very good reasons, and she could still vividly remember times when he had turned the tide of skirmishes just by being there. With that in mind, he must have been truly blind-sided to have been exposed enough to take a Killing Curse. But why should he have been watching out for stray Kedavras in the middle of Diagon Alley? Voldemort was long gone and nearly all of Harry's most insipid enemies were either dead or in prison. Political opposition could be blamed, but Hermione refused to believe until she heard a confession given under Veritaserum that this was a politically motivated attempt on his life.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
It was all just too incongruous; her instincts were telling her something else was going on here. During Arthur and Harry's campaign, there had been opposition-and it had been loud and persistent at times-but it had never been violent or threatening. The days of mortal combat over blood purity and surnames had passed into not-so-fond memory when Voldemort plummeted from the Astronomy Tower, so for it to return four years later meant one of two things: the attack was either personal in nature or perpetrated by some heretofore unknown element, the proverbial wild card.
That was as far as Hermione's thoughts led her before her tiredness overpowered her analytical skills, so for the past several hours she had sat by Harry's bedside, waiting for him to wake up. The Healers were confident that he would eventually wake up, because as far as they could tell the only thing wrong with him had been total magical exhaustion, so Hermione wanted to be the first thing he saw when he regained consciousness and wondered just what the hell had happened. If the last thing he remembered was the Killing Curse filling his world, he would be understandably upset when he regained awareness.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Her index fingers moved from her eyeballs to her temples, attempting to reduce the tension headache that had been lingering for hours. Dehydration and magical exhaustion combined with slightly overheating from being too near her spell had taken its toll on her, and having no rest did not help. Hermione still was not sure why she had cast the `Flame Ignites Flame' spell, as it was loosely translated into English, when she could have picked any one of several hundred other spells. She might not have been as powerful as Harry, but she was aware that few witches and wizards, with the possible exceptions of Dumbledore and McGonagall, knew more actual spells than her.
The spell had cost her a tremendous amount of energy, nearly depleting her magical and physical reserves. She could have used half or one third of the spell power on some Patroni that would have contained the Dementors until Aurors decided what to do with them. There was also the large audience to consider, none of whom had likely ever seen that kind spell or witnessed such an overwhelming expenditure of power. The Dementors were long gone, yes, but it had knocked her out of commission for several days, at least.
Harry was honestly to blame for her incredible display of power; if he had not shown her how to bring her magic to full readiness-the Apparition trick they had discussed back in May-she probably would not have been able to cast the spell at all. But in her moment of instinctual action, fueled by both the protection of the one she loved and vengeance for his fall, she had called her magical core to its fullest potential and used one of the so-called Doomsday spells. She was sure her actions would cause problems, regardless of how justified they may have been at the time.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
The cherry on top of this grueling day was what the Healers had found in Harry's pocket. They had shown the item to her, and though she was indescribably happy, she was also crushed for Harry. She had not opened the little jewelry box they'd found on him, but she had a very good idea what it contained. She of course looked forward to spending the rest of her life with Harry, but she hadn't wanted the surprise of a proposal ruined; she would have to be very careful to conceal her foreknowledge when Harry actually proposed to her, because she did not want him to know this attempt on his life had prevented the surprise.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes, and looked down upon the man who was, for all intents and purposes, her future husband and father of her children. He looked so vulnerable at the moment, so lost and little and abused by a world that had only used him as its savior and then thrown him to the winds. And now that he was standing up and doing something with his ideals, to hopefully make the world a better place and one their children might someday be proud of, that same world had tried to snuff him out. Nothing had ever broken his spirit before, as far as she knew, and she hoped this most recent tragedy would not either.
He had left Britain after the Second War because of disaffection and bitterness; this assassination attempt was sure to breed similar emotions within him, though magnified tenfold. But perhaps she wasn't giving Harry enough credit-she really was soul-wearyingly tired-because he had stood firm in the face of impossible odds countless times in the past. And as horrible as it was to think this, Hermione knew he would respond much better to an attempt on his life than, for instance, a similar attempt on her life or any of their friends'. His guilt would have been unstoppable if anyone other than himself had been cut down.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Her strongest desire at this moment was for Harry to wake up. It would solve many of her immediate problems and worries, and it would return the one she'd loved since she was a teenager into her waiting arms. She had placed the jewelry box back in his pocket and would let him work out the proposal on his own time. It was the least she could do, because she was not supposed to know about the ring, and it would be one very bright spot for him to hold onto when he woke up.
She already knew her answer-a resounding yes!-and could imagine herself without any trouble whatsoever as Hermione Jane Potter. Her lips curled into an ironic smile as she realized their initials would be the same: Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Potter. It was fitting, somehow, that things would turn out that way. Call it fate or coincidence or just blind and bloody dumb good luck-it all meant the same thing in the end. However much time and circumstances had interfered, they were together now and that was all that mattered.
She marveled at how far they had come since Hogwarts, at how far the six of them had come. One Hogwarts Professor, one Healer, one professional Quidditch player, one world-renowned journalist, one Chair of a Ministry department, and one Vice Minister. They had each done different things after school and after the Second War, but just as time had split them apart it had also brought them all back together.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
Three light taps on the door interrupted her internal dialogue. She sat up in the chair and took a deep breath, giving herself a shot of much-needed energy. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes.
"Come in," she called, softly.
The door clicked and then swung inward; it revealed the rather tired looking form of Ginny Weasley, dressed in her beige Healer robes with her fiery hair swept into a professional bun. She moved into the room and closed the door behind her, but not before Hermione glimpsed the Aurors stationed at either side of the door.
"Hey, Hermione," Ginny said. She stopped at the end of the bed and looked between Harry and her, and then took her wand and waved it over his still form.
"Hullo, Ginny," Hermione returned, watching her younger friend run what appeared to be some diagnostic tests on Harry. "What are you doing here so early?"
Ginny shrugged and continued to test Harry. After a minute or so of this, she nodded and stowed her wand in a side pocket. She moved a chair from the corner of the room next to Hermione's and sat down heavily.
"I didn't sleep well last night," the redhead said. "I doubt anyone did. I figured I would get an early start to the day."
"Oh."
"Everyone was already up, anyway. Dad wanted me to tell you an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot and Department Chairs has been convened. It starts in a few minutes."
"Bollocks," Hermione said, frustrated. A sigh escaped her lungs. Ginny turned her head and looked closely at Hermione. Their eyes slowly met.
"How are you holding up?" Ginny asked. She removed her wand from her pocket and waved it over Hermione, who made no move to stop her. Ginny's eyebrows showed her consternation at what she learned.
"Hermione, you're exhausted. You need to sleep, and you need to let your magic recover for several days. A week might be better."
But Hermione just waved it off. "I know all that. I'd sleep if I could. In fact I'd kip out right here with Harry if I could, but I guess I have this bloody meeting to attend and then I should probably see what else needs to be done."
Ginny shook her head. "That's not going to happen. You can go to the meeting, but I'm going to tell dad you need a day or two off to recuperate. He's your boss so he can tell you to do that."
"But…" Hermione wanted to argue, but there was no fight left in her.
"Don't argue with me, Hermione," Ginny said, sounding eerily like her mother for a moment. Then her expression softened. "Gather yourself together and in a few days you can get back to work. Harry should be awake by then."
"You think so?" Hermione asked, hopefully; she locked eyes with Ginny again, and could see the truth reflected there.
"Yes, most likely," Ginny affirmed. "As far as we can tell, the only thing wrong with Harry is utter magical fatigue. The only remedy for that is time, and when enough has passed he should wake up."
Hermione was aware of how much worse his injuries could have been, especially because George had told her the Killing Curse had been used. She was thankful that he had somehow avoided that fate once again, but was also mystified. As far as she knew, he was the only wizard or witch to survive the Killing Curse, and he had done so twice now. Granted, George wasn't sure if the curse had actually hit Harry or not, but why else would his magical core be so stressed? It must have done something desperate to save him this time.
"That's good to know," Hermione said. "Has there been any word from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"
Ginny shook her head slowly. Some stray strands of her red hair that had escaped the bun swung around her face. "Nothing that I know of. Dad said the MLE has been fully deployed since six pm yesterday; they're treating this like a terrorist attack. He said the Ministry's top priority at the moment is apprehending those responsible."
"Good," Hermione said.
"Hermione," Ginny continued, and Hermione could hear the question in her voice, "does this make any sense to you?" Ginny's forehead crinkled as she leaned back in the chair. "I mean…Harry had a lot of enemies when we were in school, but that was years ago now. Were there any signs that this might happen during the last few months?"
It seemed like Ginny had reached many of the same conclusions Hermione had, so she just shook her head. "I don't think so, Ginny, at least not with what Harry'd told me and what I'd seen for myself."
"So this is some fanatical bigot that's been hiding for all these years?"
Hermione shrugged. "Could be, but that doesn't really explain the Dementors."
Ginny conceded the point with a gesture. "No, it doesn't. I thought all the Dementors were destroyed."
"I think we all assumed that. It was what we were told, in any case."
"Hmm," Ginny intoned, pondering things. The two women sat in silence for a brief time.
"I should probably get going. There is that meeting, after all," Hermione said, pushing herself from the chair. Her body ached, and all she wanted to do was lay down, regardless of whether or not she could sleep.
"I should make my rounds," Ginny said, standing as well. They headed for the door, but something suddenly occurred to Hermione. She stopped and turned back to the bed.
"Dobby?" she called out. Ginny turned and watched her.
Two seconds later, the House Elf appeared in the room with a faint pop. He glanced at Harry and his ears drooped. By the look on his face, Hermione knew he had been expecting Harry to be awake.
"Hermione?" he asked, looking up at her.
"Do you think you could sit with Harry, in case he wakes up? I have to go to a meeting for a little while, but I should be back in an hour or two."
Dobby nodded vigorously. He hopped up onto the chair Hermione had vacated and fixed his eyes on Harry. "Of course, Hermione," he said. "Would you mind if Libby sat with him too?"
Hermione smiled down at Dobby. "Not at all. If he wakes up when I'm gone, I can't imagine two better people to greet him."
"You're making me blush, Hermione. You're too kind."
"And you're too modest. I'll be back soon," Hermione said, turning toward the door.
"Libby!" Dobby called, and Hermione didn't have to see to know that Libby had suddenly appeared in the room. Ginny opened the door and as they were about to pass through, Hermione did look back. What she saw nearly rent her heart in two: Libby stood on the bed next to Harry, looking down at him, with her ears pulled forlornly down past her shoulders.
Hermione passed into the corridor, and as she was closing the door, she heard, "Why daddy?"
It would be difficult for Dobby to explain the circumstances of Harry's unconsciousness to his young daughter without upsetting her, and perhaps impossible. There were certain harsh truths that Libby would eventually learn, and any parent could delay that for only so long.
They passed several other Aurors and Hit Wizards on their way through St. Mungo's, all of whom greeted them in some way. Hermione was Chair of one of the Ministry's departments and Ginny was the daughter of the Minister-elect, so they were easily recognized by the MLE employees.
One of the Aurors had a message for Hermione, and she took the proffered parchment with some curiosity. The first thing she noticed was the Gringotts wax seal binding the scroll. She broke the seal and unrolled the missive. It read:
Lady Granger,
Your Department of Magical Law Enforcement will not let me anywhere near Harry. You should have seen the uproar I caused when I walked into the lobby of the hospital. I would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience, and because I cannot come to you in the hospital, I would be honored if you could see me at my office. I will be at Gringotts all day.
Thank you,
Director Ragnok
"What's that?" Ginny wondered, as they came closer and closer to the Disapparition point.
"Ragnok wants to speak with me," Hermione said, showing Ginny the note. "I have a good idea what he wants to say, but it will have to wait until after this meeting."
"You and Harry have a decent relationship with the goblins, don't you?" Ginny asked, handing the parchment back to Hermione.
"Yes-well, Harry does. They probably tolerate me because of him."
"Sure. And I'm Luna Lovegood."
Hermione actually chuckled, and it felt good to laugh. They had reached the Disapparition point.
"Good luck, Hermione," Ginny said. Hermione pulled her into a hug. It had been some time since the two women had embraced.
"Thanks," Hermione said, backing away slightly. She prepared to Disapparate.
"I'll check on Harry when I can," Ginny told her, and with a nod Hermione disappeared from St. Mungo's.
She reappeared in the Atrium, which was completely deserted at this ungodly hour of the morning, and made her way to the ninth level where the Wizengamot met. When the lift clanged open, she saw Arthur, Fred, and George waiting for her.
"Merlin, Hermione, you look like shite," Fred said, joking weakly. Hermione half-returned the smile he gave her and raised her eyebrows at the three Weasley men.
"So what's this about?"
"It's an informal commission to figure out exactly what happened in the Alley," Arthur explained, getting them all started toward the large chamber. "I don't know if Ginny told you, but we are taking this very seriously. Amos and I are here this morning to cut through any bureaucratic woolgathering the Wizengamot might run into," he explained, and Hermione could hear latent anger lacing his voice. Arthur was one of the most reserved human beings she had ever met, so for him to be so obviously angry and frustrated was somewhat surprising.
Fred and George were still wearing their WWW robes, and it looked like they hadn't slept, either. Arthur wore informal robes and had his glasses hanging from the collar. The lines on his face were especially pronounced this morning.
"Any change with Harry's condition?" George asked. Hermione appreciated the hope and concern in his voice.
"Not really," she informed them. "He's still unconscious, though Ginny thinks he should wake up in the next day or two." She reached back to retie the pony tail her hair had been set in, and tried to ignore the various tangles she felt. Showering might have been a good idea at some point between yesterday afternoon and this morning, but it had slipped her mind.
The four of them entered the large chamber and immediately a hush swept around the room. All eyes were upon them as Arthur went to sit with Amos at the lectern and Hermione joined the other Department Chairs. Fred and George were the only non-governmental people in attendance, so they sat in the empty section usually reserved for the audience. Most of the other Chairs nodded at Hermione, and she nodded back. All heads turned toward the lectern as Amos stood and approached it.
"Good morning everyone," he started. "I want to thank you all for coming on such short notice, and so early."
There were general murmurs of assent throughout the chamber. Many of the witches and wizards present looked either tired or haggard-some both, like Hermione knew she did. Many curious glances were sent in her direction. She sat with an impassive air, just letting the proceedings continue on around her.
"The primary purpose of this meeting is to gather information about yesterday's attack on the Vice Minister-elect, Harry Potter. No one is under suspicion yet, but we have mobilized the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement and are working on several leads."
Amos paused and leaned onto the lectern, bracing himself with both arms. He stared around the room for several seconds.
"Let me make this clear: this attack is something we are taking very seriously and will investigate and hopefully prosecute to the full extent of the law. Not since the days of Riddle-never in my time as Minister-has anything like this happened, and it is totally unacceptable!" he went on, smashing his fist into the podium on the last word. It echoed through the large circular room. Some Wizengamot members who might have been dozing jumped slightly in their slights.
"Arthur and Harry won the election through entirely legal means, and we cannot let someone or a group of people subvert that legality with this kind of bullshit. We have worked tirelessly over the past four years to end extremist reactionary events such as this, and until yesterday we were largely successful. And it is only through some unforeseen luck that Harry Potter is still with us today; if he were not, then every single one of us would be questioned under Veritaserum. If nothing turns up soon, that avenue may be explored regardless."
There were some uncomfortable looks around the chamber at this revelation, but nothing overtly conspicuous, so Hermione attributed it to the early morning shock of this tirade from Amos. She respected him for holding nothing back in his assessment of the situation, because it deserved nothing less than a vigorous and ruthless investigation.
"Now," Amos said, taking a deep breath and standing straight once again, "news of the attack will break across Britain and the rest of the world in the morning's newspapers, and there will be of course a wide and varied response, but that cannot distract us from finding out what happened. I want this resolved before I leave office on December one, and I want your full cooperation.
"I know I'm somewhat of a lame duck at the moment, but Arthur is the Minister-elect and fully supports these measures. With that in mind, it goes without saying that I expect full cooperation; whether or not you support Arthur and Harry means nothing for the next several days. You are a part of this government and we need to work together to bring this ugly episode to an end. Are there any questions?"
When no one said anything, Amos asked George and Fred to describe their experiences in the Alley. Everyone listened raptly as George told them about seeing Harry wandering the Alley, the mysterious cloaked person, the Killing Curse, and so on. When he reached Hermione's entrance, Amos stopped him. He glanced at her before asking George if there was anyone with Hermione.
"No," he replied, "and I was wondering about that. Fred sent his Patronus to the Ministry in general, so we both thought the response would have been swift and collective. Hermione was at least two minutes ahead of everyone else."
"There's a good explanation for that, isn't there?" Hermione asked, rhetorically. She looked sideways at Conrad Murther, the Chair of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Conrad shrugged, looking very uncomfortable with the attention of the chamber suddenly on him. He was middle-aged, balding, and quickly developing a rather rotund belly. The switch to administration from field duty had not agreed with him, unfortunately.
"Conrad?" Amos asked.
"Yes, Amos?"
Amos made an impatient gesture. "Why was there no immediate response?"
"You know just as well as I do there are protocols that need to be followed," Conrad answered. Hermione sensed his anger and frustration building quickly beneath the surface of his words. He had probably been put through the ringer several times since yesterday afternoon.
"When we receive random distress signals," Conrad continued, "such as the one Fred Weasley sent in the form of his Patronus, there are several things that need to happen before we can mobilize anyone. First, we had to verify its authenticity, and then we had to determine the available response versus the needed response-"
"But how would you know what an appropriate response should be without sending an avante garde or something like that? With no advance information, how do you determine your reaction?" Hermione cut in. She probably wasn't supposed to interrupt the flow of the meeting, but she was so personally invested in what had happened-both because of Harry's involvement and her annihilation of twelve Dementors-that she couldn't stop herself.
"Excuse me, but what the hell would you know about it, Granger?" Conrad asked, looking angrily at her. Hermione recoiled in shock at his direct personal attack. "Our response is predicated upon an assurance of some modicum of safety. I do not send out Aurors or Hit Wizards until I am positive they will not be ambushed."
"And you wasted precious time that could have cost Harry his life," Hermione shot back, aware that all eyes in the room were now on the two Chairpersons. "I left for Diagon the second I heard Fred's message, and-"
"Which was an immature, hasty, and completely out-of-control response," Conrad spoke over her. "It is the MLE's job to respond, anyway, so you broke protocol-"
"Hey, fuck your bloody protocol," George said, overriding the argument completely. The attention of the chamber refocused on him, and his language shocked everyone into submission. "The Patronus distress call is a very strong indicator of something seriously wrong, and Hermione was right to respond as quickly as she did. If she had arrived in the Alley ten seconds later, I would have been dead and the Dementors would have been moving toward the people."
If Arthur or Amos were upset at George's usurpation of control over the meeting with his words, neither showed it. Amos just looked calmly at the Weasley twin.
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. I had already cast several Patroni by the time Hermione showed up, and my magic was giving out on me. So I was about to do the only thing I could think of-distract them with myself to draw them away from Harry. Hermione prevented that outcome, though, and thankfully," he finished, looking at her and smiling. She inclined her head toward him.
"Describe for us what happened then," Amos prompted, and George continued his tale. He told of Hermione's magnificent Patronus, her ring of fire, and then finally the Doomsday spell she used. He didn't call it that, though, because he probably didn't know that classification even existed. He simply described the spell. Hermione received several strange looks as some members of the Wizengamot no doubt recognized the spell for what it really was.
"Then I took her to St. Mungo's, where the Healers were already attending to Harry. That's about all I have for you," George finished, shrugging one shoulder.
"Thank you, George," Amos said. He moved onto Fred, who described pushing through the crowd of people to find Harry sprawled out on the ground. After checking his pulse and ascertaining that Harry was alive, he described Hermione's arrival in Diagon very similarly to what George had said. Then he had taken Harry to St. Mungo's, and that was as far as his story went.
Amos questioned two Wizengamot members who had been shopping in the Alley at the time. One of them had Apparated away as soon as he had seen the Dementors-he hadn't realized Harry had been cut down-and the other described the scene almost exactly as George had. The way he described Hermione's final spell suggested he knew what it was, but wasn't willing to say.
Amos then relinquished the podium to Arthur. The eldest Weasley removed his glasses from where they were hanging on his collar and pressed them to his face. He took a moment to collect himself before speaking.
"The Aurors and Hit Wizards who arrived just over two minutes after Hermione have all been debriefed, and their accounts of the incident corroborate with everything that has been said so far. We only need to hear your perspective, Hermione," he said, looking directly at her, "and then we can proceed with this investigation and any countermeasures that might be necessary." She saw the apology in his eyes.
"Fine then," she said. "I heard the message from Fred, as did I think everyone else throughout the Ministry, and responded immediately. I did not even give it a second thought-I just Disapparated directly from my office to Diagon-"
"Your office is warded against Apparition and Disapparition, as are all the offices," someone cut in. It was an older female member of the Wizengamot that Hermione did not recognize. "The Atrium is the only location Apparition and Disapparition are allowed."
"Well, the wards didn't stop me, did they?" Hermione asked, rhetorically. "It may explain the noise everyone heard when I arrived in Diagon and the depressed cobblestones where I stood. Leaving the Ministry through the wards probably amplified my arrival power, and the air and ground had not compensated for that by the time I materialized."
"Still, it's impossible to Apparate through those wards," the woman persisted.
Hermione laughed at her, in what she knew was a very condescending way. "Not impossible…just improbable. Wards dramatically increase the power needed to leave or arrive at any location, making it nearly impossible for most witches and wizards to ever make it through. Even for the most powerful, it significantly raises the chances of a splinching and other catastrophes."
"Suffice it to say that Hermione arrived in Diagon in one piece," Arthur said, ending any further debate. "Continue please," he requested, nodding at her.
"So when I arrived I saw twelve Dementors bearing down on George. They stopped and turned towards me. I asked about Harry and George pointed behind me; Fred had Harry free from the crowd and said he was alive and that he was going to take him to St. Mungo's. That left the Dementors, so I took care of them-"
"What does that mean?" another nameless Wizengamot member asked, and Hermione had to repress words of frustration as they threatened to explode from her lips.
"What do you think it means? You all heard the testimony. I destroyed the Dementors," she eventually said, trying to be as succinct as possible.
"No one has been able to identify the spell you used," Arthur cut in, gently. "Would you mind telling us the incantation?"
"Exuris ignis exussum," she said, knowing that, without a doubt, some would react poorly to that fact. And sure enough, several Wizengamot members, Conrad Murther, and even Amos Diggory looked upset or confused as they considered the spell.
"And can you describe what the spell does?" Arthur asked, and again she could see the apology in his eyes. He obviously didn't want to question her about all of these things, but she supposed the facts had to be known.
"It forces oxygen into an area where combustion is already taking place and then flash-ignites all of that oxygen. Because of the higher-than-normal concentration of the gas, the resulting fireball is abnormally hot and dissipates very quickly."
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Conrad said, slowly, though he sounded like he knew he was right, "but isn't that one of the twenty-seven Doomsday spells?" Murmurs swept through the chamber as the new information was perceived by those who hadn't already known.
"Yes, it is," Hermione said. "What is your point?"
"Those spells were outlawed in 1775 when foreign nationals used some on American revolutionaries," Conrad said, looking smug.
"But not officially," Hermione corrected him. "They were simply considered taboo and fell out of common usage-but what is this, an interrogation? I saved countless lives by stopping those Dementors-"
"You could have just contained them-"
"Oh, stuff it Conrad! You bloody well know that we are better off without those foul creatures, so don't get all high and mighty with me. I did what needed to be done!" Hermione countered, standing from her seat and raising her voice.
"And you fucked our evidence in the process!" Conrad yelled back, also standing. "What the hell are we supposed to do with a burnt out crater in the middle of Diagon Alley?"
"Please-" Arthur tried to interrupt, but Hermione did not heed him.
"Use it as a reminder of your ineptitude, and your department's complete lack of a response. Why is that one single witch had to prevent twelve Dementors from wreaking havoc throughout the Alley?"
"Listen, you uppity twat, just because you and those other spoiled kids pulled the victory against You Know Who out of your arses doesn't mean you garner special privilege here-"
"ENOUGH!" Arthur boomed out, and it was his palpable anger more than anything else that silenced the room. "I will not have you disrespect each other! That is not why we are here today-we want to solve problems, not create more. Now both of you sit down and listen!" he commanded, and gone was the genial attitude to which everyone was accustomed.
"Our priorities here are figuring out who attacked Harry and where the Dementors came from. Obviously with the duly noted lack of physical evidence, the Dementor problem may be more difficult than we originally thought, but that should not stymie any of our efforts. Hermione may have overreacted slightly, but she prevented what could have been great loss of life. There is no apologizing for that, and no need to second guess it."
Hermione was still smarting from being called an `uppity twat,' but Arthur's words had calmed her enough to where she could be rational. The Doomsday spell hadn't been the smartest of ideas, but as she had told them all, she had been operating on instinct. In fact, it was something Harry would do-act before thinking. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her a little.
"Amos and I will be using the executive offices as a war room, so I expect constant updates throughout the day on any progress that's made. I think that is all for now; just remember people, you need to work together so we can end this as quickly as possible. You will have to answer directly to me if you jeopardize this investigation in any way."
He looked at Amos. "Anything you would like to add, Amos?"
"If for no one else, do your best work for the Vice Minister-elect. He almost made the ultimate sacrifice yesterday. What have you given recently for your world?"
It was a rhetorical question, because Amos pounded the gavel on the lectern immediately following his words. Chatter erupted around the chamber and some witches and wizards rushed here and there. Hermione looked stonily at Conrad as she passed him-he ignored her completely-and met up with Fred and George by the exit. She caught Arthur's eyes on the way and they seemed to tell each other to be careful and good luck.
"That was something," Fred said, very sarcastically. The three of them left the chamber and headed for the lifts.
"That Conrad is a right git," George said, an evil gleam filling his eyes. "Think we should prank him, O brother of mine?"
"He did approve the MLE using our equipment…" Fred trailed off, and then glanced at Hermione. "But he called our Hermione an ugly name, so I think you're right George. Let's take some time with this one and make it good." He rubbed his hands together like a little child.
Hermione laughed at them, glad that they were still able to see the silver lining, no matter the situation. "You two are too much. Be careful, ok? Don't get caught. He could make your lives a living hell."
Fred looked hurt. "O ye of little faith!" he cried, mock swooning. "Have we ever been caught?"
"Umbridge," was all Hermione said, and the twins flinched.
"Point taken," George said. "We shall be careful, Hermione. Don't you worry about a thing. But we have to defend your honor, you know that…"
She just smiled at them. "Thank you." She hugged them both. "Thank you for being there when Harry needed you."
Their faces had sobered with her hug. "We were just hoping the cavalry would arrive," Fred said. "And it's a bloody good thing the cavalry was you." He looked oddly at her for a moment. "George showed me his memory of what you did to the Dementors…it was incredible, Hermione. I had no idea you were that powerful."
"Neither did I," she said, and then laughed a little uneasily. She hoped her relationship with the twins wouldn't change now that they'd both seen her take out those Dementors. "You have Harry to thank for that rather heavy-handed display of power."
"Oo, the boyfriend rubbing off on you?" George asked, making eyes at her. Then all three of them realized the double entendre in his words, and they burst out laughing simultaneously.
"Honestly, George, that's disgusting!" Hermione said, swatting his shoulder playfully.
"Rubbing…off…on…her…" Fred repeated, when he could draw enough breath to speak. He wiped the tears from his eyes as they all came down from the sudden high.
"You know, that felt good," George said, and Hermione and Fred nodded. "It reminds of something Harry once said."
"And what's that?" Hermione wondered. What could Harry have possibly said that had anything to do with rubbing off on her-on second thought, maybe she didn't want to know.
"He told Fred and me that our joke shop was a worthy endeavor because the world needed laughter, no matter how rough things became."
"Ah, I remember that well," Fred said, and his eyes turned inward. Hermione knew he was thinking of the circumstances surrounding Harry's statement.
"When did he tell you this?" she asked.
"It was the end of our sixth year, right after the Triwizard Tournament fiasco and Moldyshorts' return. He gave the winnings to us, and when we refused, he told us what George said. In fact, I still remember his exact words: `We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long.'"
The lift shuttered to a halt at the Atrium, and the three were engulfed in silence as Harry's words washed over them. It was almost like he was standing there with them, and it was eerie and unsettling.
After a moment, Hermione asked, "What are you two doing now?"
Fred and George looked at each other. "Opening up the shop early," Fred said. "We're moving forward with our plans to open a Hogsmeade branch, so with the early start we can get in some R&D. What about you? Are you going back to the hospital?"
"Shortly," she said. "But first I have to stop by Gringotts and see Ragnok."
Both Fred and George looked impressed. "What do you have to see the head goblin for?"
"He wants to speak to me about Harry."
"Probably wondering when he's going to get his star Director back?" George asked, though it was not a serious question.
Hermione smiled at them. Life would simply not be as entertaining without the twins. "Something like that," she said, and then prepared to Disapparate. "See you two later?"
"Of course, Miss Granger," Fred said, bowing.
"Until we meet again, dear Hermione," George said, bowing as well and kissing the back of her hand.
She chuckled. "You two are impossible." She felt the compression of translocation and found herself just outside of Gringotts, at the bottom of the wide marble steps. She ascended toward the bank proper and was met by two armed goblins at the top. They bowed slightly and motioned for her to enter.
"This way, Lady Granger," one said, leading her through the deserted lobby. The bank was closed because it was still very early in the morning. "Director Ragnok has been expecting you."
She walked through the side door and found herself in the familiar wide, plush corridor. She strolled all the way to end with her goblin escort, their steps muted by the thick carpet beneath their feet, and stopped outside Ragnok's door. The two goblins bowed again and left. She rapped twice on the doorframe.
"Enter!" came a voice, one she knew to be Ragnok's.
She pushed on the door and eased into the Director's office. Ragnok quickly finished some paperwork as she took a seat in front of his desk. He looked up and gazed at her; she met his eyes. Finally his features settled into an enigmatic smile, oddly enough concealing his fangs. Some random piece of information clicked in her brain-it was a sign of mourning in the goblin nation.
"Lady Granger, I am glad you received my note," he told her.
"I'm sorry you could not deliver it personally, Director Ragnok," Hermione said. "It most likely would have saved you some time."
He waved it off with a clawed hand. "Let's dispose of the formalities, Hermione."
"Fair enough, Ragnok," she said, relaxing into her a chair a little. "What's this about?"
"What else?" he asked, ironically. "Harry, of course."
"I figured as much."
"I had the doorguards from yesterday afternoon provide me their memories of the incident in the Alley," Ragnok said, leaning forward over his desk. "Sadly, they did not clearly see Harry's confrontation with the unknown person, but they did witness in some detail your destruction of the Dementors."
"Oh?"
"Yes," he nodded. "Quite frankly, I was very impressed, Hermione. Harry has told me you are almost a match for him, and certainly that you know more spells than he ever could, but I suppose the truth is in the seeing. That spell must have taken its toll."
Hermione considered her aching muscles and headache before nodding. "It did, Ragnok. I've never been this tired, not even during the war."
"It was for a worthy cause, though," he said, to which she could only nod again. She wondered where Ragnok was heading with all of this.
"Hermione…I just wanted to personally tell you that the goblin nation is not taking this attack lightly. As a member of our Board of Directors, any attack upon Harry's person or family is considered an attack upon the security and safety of Gringotts itself, so with that in mind we have launched a full inquiry into yesterday's events."
"I understand, Ragnok," she said, and she had been expecting this. "I believe it is prudent you know, however, that the ministry is concurrently investigating what happened."
"I had no doubt in my mind that they would," Ragnok asserted. "But the Ministry is constrained by certain…"
"Protocols?" Hermione provided, thinking of the argument that had occurred during the meeting.
"Yes. The Ministry is constrained by protocols the goblin nation might not necessarily observe," he said, very carefully, though he was grinning. His fangs were showing now. "What humans typically call red tape we call occupational hazards; that is, we don't just cut through red tape-we totally obliterate it."
"Again, I understand. For Harry's sake, though, try to avoid anything with which he would be uncomfortable," Hermione said, hoping she hadn't offended Ragnok with her forwardness.
But he nodded, clearly seeing her point. "I've taken that into consideration, and we will do nothing extreme until he wakes up and can consult with us."
"That sounds good," Hermione said, glad that Harry would not have to wake up to full-scale goblin anger on his behalf. "Thank you very much, Ragnok. I appreciate everything you have done for Harry and are doing."
He stared at her for a second, and there was an undefined emotion in his beady goblin eyes. It almost reminded her of the way Dumbledore had looked at times.
"There's no need to thank me, Hermione. Harry is one of our advocates, and also one of our most trusted allies. It may sound odd, coming from me, but he deserves our thanks more than we deserve his."
She smiled then, aware of the magnitude of what Ragnok was implying. "I think Harry would understand, as much as he wouldn't want to admit it."
"Yes," he agreed, chuckling in a gravelly sort of way, "you are probably right. Unless there is anything else you need to discuss," he continued, "I would suggest returning to Harry. I can see it in your eyes, Hermione-you two are very lucky to have each other."
"Thanks," she said, giving him an odd look. Approval from Ragnok for her relationship with Harry was the last thing she needed, but it was strangely comforting in any case. "I will see you soon, I'm sure," she said, standing and offering her hand. Ragnok came around his desk and shook it, and then nodded at her.
She Disapparated directly from his office and appeared in the lobby of St. Mungo's. All she wanted to do was curl up with Harry and actually get some rest. She ignored the Aurors and Hit Wizards on her way to Harry's room, and they seemed to know to avoid idle chatter this time. The same two Aurors were posted outside of his room that had been there before, and they did not bat an eye as she pushed open the door and closed it behind her.
Dobby was still sitting in the chair she had watched from all night, and Libby was asleep on his lap. His huge eyes turned to meet hers.
"Thank you," she whispered, and he nodded at her.
"Will we be seeing you at the Manor soon?" he whispered back, shifting Libby in his arms.
"I hope so, Dobby," she responded. He breathed deeply, as if he wanted to say something else, and then popped out of the room with Libby. She was alone with Harry once again. He had not moved since she had last seen him.
Hermione flicked her hand at the bed and watched as it magically expanded. She conjured several blankets and finally discarded her Ministry robes. She transfigured the jeans and t-shirt underneath into something more comfortable and lay down next to Harry, throwing the blankets over them. She turned toward him and threw her arm over his chest, resting her face near his shoulder.
Her eyes slipped close and sleep claimed her. The only sign of life in the room was the faintly beeping heart monitor.
Beep … beep … beep … beep … beep … beep …
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