(A/N: Yep, we rejoin our story immediately where it left off…
My thanks go to MirielleGrey, my Wonder Beta… and to you, my readers. I know it's been said before, but I'll say it again: if you're enjoying this story, please tell your friends - and if you're not, please tell me.)
(Disclaimer: Some collective nouns: A paladinate of Harrys. A concordance of Hermiones. A randomness of Rowlings. A fair use of fanfiction. A poverty of Paracelsi.)
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"Coming Back Late"
by Paracelsus
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XXIV: Taking Initiative
*
Even as Hermione drew her wand, she knew it would be too late: there was no time to erect a Shield before the intruder's Obliviation spell struck her. Nonetheless, she attempted to hurl a fast Stunner at her opponent, in the hopes that, once begun, the Stunner would fire even after her mind had been blanked.
Except that her mind didn't blank!
There were times to stop and analyze, and there were times to simply act. The middle of a magical combat situation qualified as the latter. "Stupefy!" Hermione cast, now running at full tilt towards the intruder.
Astonishment flashed on the stranger's face, a snarl replacing the smile of a moment earlier. A skilled flick of his wand parried Hermione's Stunner. He seized Ginny, still vacantly staring, and roughly shoved her into Hermione as she came near. Hermione caught Ginny by the shoulders and thrust her aside, as the wizard brought his wand back up. "Caedero!" he hissed.
"Protego!" Hermione responded, deflecting the attack. Hacking Hex, she thought wildly, nasty…
The wizard was bolting down the corridor, away from the lifts, towards the emergency stairs. He continued to throw curses behind him as he ran, forcing Hermione to maintain her defenses. She pushed herself to run faster… if she couldn't bind him magically, she'd tackle him physically. She still didn't recognize the wizard, but she now knew who he must be - and she wanted him captured, alive.
The commotion was starting to draw attention: a few fellow Ministry employees were emerging from office doorways. The intruding wizard grimaced, then thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out a glass bottle. He hurled it to the floor as Hermione came within grabbing distance of him.
And the corridor promptly plunged into pitch blackness.
Hermione stumbled, tried to maintain pursuit, and with a jarring thud ran headlong into the corridor wall. She remembered this darkness now, from her sixth year at Hogwarts, and knew its cause: Peruvian Darkness Powder. The Ministry had since banned its importation, but evidently the wizarding criminal element still had a few remaining stockpiles.
Fortunately, she knew the proper counter-spell. "Zephyrus!" she cried, and a breeze immediately sprang from nowhere to clear away the darkness. Unfortunately, in her few seconds of blindness, the assailant had made his escape: he was nowhere to be seen.
Co-workers were beginning to approach her, inquiries on their lips, but Hermione had no time to spare for them. She rushed back to the lifts, where Ginny sat dazed on the floor. Hermione examined her, carefully but quickly: she didn't seem physically harmed, but the vacant stare hadn't left her face.
Right, then. And Dennis doesn't have a Floo connection available. Dammit, I didn't want to advertise this ability, but… Hermione formed a terse message in her mind: "Send Peasegood at once." Then with a flick of her wand and a quiet "Expecto Patronum," her Patronus-messenger sped away in a blur of silver.
Message sent, she turned her attention to the gathering Ministry employees - including, she was glad to see, several Aurors. "I'm declaring the Ministry to be in emergency lockdown, as of now. I want the entire building sealed: all communications suspended, and no one leaves without my authorization!" She pointed to each Auror in turn as she continued, "Floos disconnected, Portkeys disabled, Anti-Apparation protocols activated, stat. Montagu, go to the Atrium and inform Head Robards - he'll want to organize a floor-by-floor search. Until then, everyone is to remain where they are. Any questions?"
No one questioned her.
*
The common room of the elves' guest quarters was cramped, to be sure - Harry had to remove his Stealth Cloak, since he kept misjudging where he was stretching his invisible limbs, and knocking items off tables - but as long as he sat cross-legged on the floor, he was comfortable enough. He resisted Canby's repeated offers to raise the ceiling for him, suspecting it wouldn't go unnoticed elsewhere in the Ministry.
But in consequence, he found himself at eye level with the Ministry elf, as they debated on the best way to enter the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries - which, Harry discovered, put him at a bit of a disadvantage. "No," he reiterated yet again, "I don't want you risking your neck to try to appear inside the Chamber. Not unless we know for a fact that Mysterious elves have been in that room."
"It would be no risk," Canby insisted. "If elves can't appear in the Chamber, Canby's attempt will fail. If the attempt succeeds, Canby will fetch Mister Harry and bring him into the Chamber."
Harry sighed. How he wished he could simply forbid Canby to risk his life. The last thing I need is another death on my conscience. I still remember poor Dobby… But Canby wasn't Harry's to command - even though Harry probably could, by capitalizing on his mythic status among elves. He sighed again and ceded the point. "Fine… but only if all else fails," he emphasized.
"Then how else shall we try?" Canby asked.
"Hm. Find a spot away from the door to the Chamber, and drill a tiny hole in the wall?" offered Harry. "Where no one will notice… say, behind a tapestry or something? If it works and I can get through the wall, then I make a big hole. That's the part where you distract the Unspeakables."
"Could perhaps get into an argument with Mysterious elves," Canby mused. "A very, very loud argument…"
"If they're anything like Unspeakables, you probably can't get a rise out of them."
Canby waved off the suggestion. "Oh, they are so sure they are better than other elves… Canby can always point to spots of dirt they missed cleaning." His sudden, wicked grin was worthy of Fred or George at their finest, or rather, their worst. "Even if Canby must supply dirt himself…" He stopped speaking abruptly, jerked upright as though jabbed with a pin.
"What's wrong, Canby?" Harry asked in concern, as Canby tilted his head and spread his bat-like ears as though listening.
"Emergency lockdown of the Ministry," Canby reported after a moment. "Everyone to be staying in their rooms while Aurors search." Seeing the sudden alarm on Harry's face, Canby hastened to add, "They will not be searching elves' quarters, Mister Harry! Looking for a… a wizard, they are. Wizards do not find their way to elves' quarters."
I could, now that I've been here, thought Harry. He kept the thought to himself, while he brought up a more immediate objection. "But what if they ask an elf to search the elves' quarters?"
"Then Canby will volunteer to be searcher," the elf said simply. "Please stay here and be safe, Mister Harry. Canby must go to Miss Hermione now." Canby gave Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and vanished with a loud pop of air.
Resigning himself to waiting, Harry looked around the common room. Had he ever given the matter any thought, he supposed elves' private rooms would be decorated in some bizarrely eclectic mix of hues, styles, and gimcracks… rather like Dobby's wardrobe. Instead, the common room was minimalist, almost Spartan, in its décor: muted earth tones, side tables with flower vases, and a frame on one wall containing an abstract splash of black and white. Doors led to other rooms, presumably the guests' bedrooms; Harry didn't see a door that looked like an exit, though. After a moment's thought, he realized that house elves wouldn't need an exit door.
He felt a tentative touch at his elbow. Turning his head, Harry found himself face-to-face with the female elf he'd met at Enthalpy House. She was shyly (nervously?) offering him a goblet of pumpkin juice. Harry reached out to accept the goblet, and noticed how the elf had to control her flinch. She's scared, he was shocked to realize, scared of me. Scared that I might touch her.
Quickly recovering, Harry gave her a friendly smile, hoping to allay her fears. "Hello. You're, um, Canby's friend, right? Brillig?"
She went from timid to delighted in a heartbeat. "You - you are remembering Brillig!" She looked over Harry's shoulder and raised her voice. "Brillig told you he would remember!" Harry followed her gaze to see five other elves cautiously emerging from their "dorm rooms": all female, and all staring at him with various mixes of fascination and reserve. They wore neither the tea-towels Harry associated with Winky (the only other female elf he'd really known), nor the sleeveless tabard Canby favored. Instead, they wore short-sleeved, knee-length shifts, white and unadorned - but fitting well enough to make clear that the elves were, without question, female.
These are the elves that were going to testify against Swivingham. His, um, his "working elves". No wonder they're nervous about a man invading their private rooms. Harry glanced back at Brillig. "Are introductions in order?" he asked her softly.
Brillig met the other elves' eyes, and seemed to gather consensus. "These are Briony," she said, with a gesture at the first elf, and continuing, "Chalice, Whimsy, Fatima, and Sylph." Each one bobbed her head as her name was given. Harry smiled more warmly and nodded in return to each, but made no overt movement towards them. Which seemed to reassure them, a little: Sylph and Chalice took a shy step closer.
"Those are nice names," he told them. "Mine's Harry - I'm pleased to meet you."
"You are great Dobby's friend Harry Potter," Sylph clarified.
"Er, yes," said Harry, still trying to put them at their ease. "And I count myself very lucky to have had Dobby as a friend. Dobby was a… a noble elf, in so many ways."
Half of them were quickly losing their reserve, their fascination for the Defender of House-Elves growing stronger. Briony, however, seemed inclined to take exception to Harry's last comment. "Dobby? Dobby was… was a free elf," she said, somehow making the term sound unclean.
"He was," Harry agreed. "Dobby wasn't afraid of hard work." He saw that he'd dumbfounded Briony, and pressed his point. "Good elves don't mind hard work, do they? Well, freedom is very hard work. Easy to let someone else tell you what to do, all day, every day - but hard to have to think, to choose, to take responsibility. I know humans find it hard work, so I imagine elves find it hard work, too. It takes a very special kind of person to be free." He paused, seeing Dobby in his mind, recalling his fierce insistence on doing the right thing, no matter how it might hurt… and Harry smiled fondly. "That was Dobby, all right."
To his other side, Brillig drew in a deep, fervent breath. If Harry had looked at her just then, he might have been disconcerted to see the nearly worshipful expression on her face… and uncomfortably reminded of Hermione's analogy with Jesus and the nuns. But at the moment, his attention was drawn to the one elf who was still holding back from him: Fatima, who looked so much like the servant-elf to the Arab Cartel Lord in the Pensieve.
Hermione was sure this Fatima had some connection to the Cartel, once. If I can just get her engaged in the discussion…
"Freedom… well, once you have freedom, you want all those close to you to have it, too." Harry paused to gulp his pumpkin juice, then set the goblet on the nearby table. "I don't think Dobby had any family," he went on. "I think he'd have told me if he had children, or brothers, or anything. But if he did, I think - I know - that Dobby would have wanted them to be as free as he was."
Oh, that got her notice.
"I guess I don't know much about elf families," he concluded ruefully. "It's stupid of me, I know… I'm sorry…" He looked around the room in invitation.
Brillig took over her role as spokeself for the group. "Elves is having brothers and sisters, of course, Mister Harry," she told him. "Elves is certainly having children - how else is there being more elves?" There was a general giggle at that. Brillig sobered quickly as she went on, "If elves is lucky, elves is having mates for life."
"If elves is not lucky," Fatima put in abruptly, harshly, "elves is never having mates, only having breeders. Masters is telling elves when to breed, and with whom."
Harry nodded. "Like your former master, Jack Swivingham." As the elves nodded in return, his eyes fixed on Fatima. "And like your master before Swivingham."
Fatima maintained her harsh expression. She said nothing.
"Your sister's current master," Harry finished gently. It was a shot in the dark, but Harry felt sure of his ground.
And the shot struck home. Fatima's stark façade crumbled in astonishment. "Mister Harry Potter knows about Ayesha?!" she cried piteously.
"I know some things about some things," Harry hedged. "I know she still waits on him, bringing his food and drink." Fatima's eyes widened, and he felt confident enough to add, "And he's, er, 'training' her… the way he 'trained' you?"
The misery on her face showed Harry he was right - and it was more than he could bear. He quickly turned to Brillig. "See, that's just not right," he said earnestly. "Human, or elf, or any being whatever, that's not right. No one should be able to tell us where we may love, or deny it from us. Love is too precious."
He'd started to turn back to Fatima, wanting to draw her out further, when he felt tiny fingers dig into his bicep. Brillig had fallen to her knees, wrapped her arms around Harry's arm, and was hugging it to her bosom with an iron grip. "Oh, yes, Mister Harry," she sighed in ecstasy. It might have been religious ecstasy…
Harry managed to move his free arm in time to prevent Sylph from seizing it in a similar grip. He wanted at least one hand to drive his point home - and gain Fatima's cooperation. "It's not right," he repeated. "If we can find Ayesha, there's a chance we can free her from…" He let the sentence dangle, hoping Fatima would respond.
"From ibn al-Afrit?" Fatima finished doubtfully. "He is being a hard master, he will never…"
"She will never be free if we don't try," Harry persisted. "We have to try. I promise you I will try, if you will help." He saw her starting to waver: he caught her eye, and held it. "You have my word, Fatima."
Sylph squealed excitedly, and this time she succeeded in capturing Harry's other arm above the elbow. Fatima still kept her distance, undecided. Harry managed to extend his lower arm - Sylph didn't loosen her grip, but didn't try to stop him, either - and reach out his hand to Fatima. In supplication.
Fatima hesitated one more moment. Her mouth tightened - and she stepped forward and took Harry's hand. In agreement.
Chalice and Whimsy crowded around them in excitement. From behind Fatima, Briony cheered her friend. Thus surrounded and held, Harry was acutely aware of the elves' proximity - and, embarrassingly, of their attractive forms. Really, except for the ears, and skin tone - and the fact they were four feet tall - they looked very much like seventh-year female students at Hogwarts. They even had hair!
Like students at Hogwarts.
Taught by professors at Hogwarts.
And that thought was followed by an idea so incendiary, yet so filled with potential, that Harry was almost glad Canby chose that exact moment to reappear in the common room, bringing Hermione with him.
"Harry!? What in Merlin's name are you doing?"
"Um…"
"Mister Harry Potter is promising to help the elves again!" cried Brillig happily.
"Well, one in particular," Harry said hastily, forestalling elven imaginations from running rampant. "I promised Fatima we'd try to free her sister Ayesha - you remember seeing her sister? - from her current master, ibn al-Afrit." Harry delivered the last words with only a slight emphasis, but Hermione immediately picked up on their significance.
They now had the name of a second Cartel Lord - and judging from Ginny's Pensieve memory, the most influential.
"If ibn al-Afrit is convicted of crimes," Hermione slowly said, as she sat down on the floor next to Harry, "and house-elves were victimized in the commission of those crimes… yes, I should think the Ministries, or the ICW, would guarantee their freedom."
"Thank you, Hermione," Harry began, then broke off. His eyes had focused on Hermione's face. Suddenly oblivious to the elves around him, he shook Brillig and Sylph off his arms and leaned towards Hermione. His fingers came up to not-quite-touch her cheek, where a mottled bruise was darkening. "Where'd this come from? Hermione, what happened?"
"Oh…" Hermione brought her own hand to her cheek, and winced as she felt how extensive the bruise was becoming. "There's been some unpleasantness."
"Miss Hermione was attacked," Canby told Harry, with a reproachful look for Hermione. "It is why the Ministry is in emergency lockdown now."
"Ginny was attacked first," Hermione said quickly, before Harry could storm out of the elves' quarters in anger. "Obliviated. I happened along at the wrong time, and was nearly Obliviated as well. When that didn't work, he tried a more direct approach."
"You're all right, though? I mean, you weren't hurt, or, or…?"
"No, I defended myself quite creditably, thank you. Except for his first attack on me, when he tried to Obliviate me - that one I only avoided thanks to my birthday gift." She fingered the sapphire where it lay beneath her robes, so that he could see its outline. "I didn't even remember it was there until later, actually - my reflexes took over."
"Then how…?" He gestured again at her bruised face.
"He used Peruvian Darkness Powder to escape," Hermione said in disgust, "and I ran into a wall." Her irritated glare said that Harry laughed at his own peril.
The Master of the Deathly Hallows had long since learned to recognize danger when it confronted him. He didn't so much as crack a smile. "Oh," he deadpanned.
She waited a moment, until she was satisfied he wouldn't take the mickey… then turned away and relaxed slightly. "Anyway…"
"Try not to do that," he added, still deadpan, his timing perfect.
She whirled to glare at him again, but he brought up his left hand to her face. There was a brief glow, as the Elder Wand did its work, and her injury was healed. "I mean, the gem only wards spells… it doesn't make you invulnerable. You can still be physically hurt." He lowered his hand and regarded her tenderly. "Try not to do that," he said again, but this time without a trace of mockery.
It was impossible for Hermione to maintain her glare after that, though she certainly tried. "Anyway," she pressed on, "the Ministry's in an uproar, and I thought I should see you while I could, inform you what's happening." He nodded, ready to listen. She continued, "Ginny's more or less recovered from the attack. I brought Peasegood back to see her: he says the attacker was trying to edit a specific memory, but I interrupted him and his Memory Charm went awry. As a result, Ginny's lost about a week's worth of memory."
"Friday's Fire Party," winced Harry, "seeing the Lords."
"And everything since." For once, Hermione didn't elaborate; Harry suspected that, this time, he didn't want her to. "We still have her Pensieve memory," she said after a moment, "but I doubt she had a chance to tell Zabini about it, else she wouldn't have been Obliviated. And Zabini… well, I know he's an actor of the first water, but I'd swear he's genuinely upset about Ginny's attack today."
"We need to keep in mind that Zabini's not a member of this Cartel," Harry said slowly, thinking aloud. "It's as you said a couple of days ago, he works with them, not for them. The Cartel Lords want anonymity - they're the ones who prefer Obliviation. It was Zabini who went for the kill - and only the one time. It had the feel of a… a loyalty test…"
"So today's attacker was from the Cartel… erasing memory, erasing evidence. Robards, Ginny… although how did they know Ginny would be at the Ministry today? She must have told Zabini she was meeting him here, and he told the Cartel…"
"Or else Ginny wasn't their primary target today. You were." Harry scowled at the thought that Hermione was still at risk. "Who was the attacker? Have the Aurors caught him yet?"
"Not yet, they're still searching. I couldn't identify him, so he's not a Ministry worker… except he was in the Ministry already… but he could have been Polyjuiced… Damn. Too many possibilities." She chewed on her lower lip, lost in thought.
"Did he say anything?" asked Harry. "Er, besides spells? I mean, one obvious source of strangers at the Ministry is…"
"… is today's International Conference," Hermione said in unison with him, which caused her to smile for the first time. "I considered that. But no, he only spoke incantations, and I didn't notice any particular accent. But then, I wasn't paying attention to that." She cocked an eyebrow at Sylph, who was trying to re-bond with Harry's arm, and said sweetly, "Rear of the queue, please." Once the abashed elf had relinquished her spot next to Harry, Hermione slid beside him and wrapped her arm around his waist.
She was very pleased that his arm had found its way around her waist in response.
"The Aurors have my description of the assailant," Hermione continued. "They'll search every floor, room by room, until they find him. Which is why, during lockdown, everyone stays in whatever room they're in." She snorted. "Obviously, all the delegates and their staffs are being kept in the meeting room on the Atrium level, until this is sorted out. And again obviously, the opening session of the Conference has been delayed. It gives my team with Lovinett a little more time to break through his Occlumency - get the evidence we need to stop Zabini."
"You're going to be pissing off some fairly high-powered people," noted Harry. "Foreign and domestic. The sort of people that don't appreciate being inconvenienced just so Aurors can do their jobs. They could make your job difficult, down the road." He smirked as Hermione formed an indignant reply. "And you don't much care," he added in approval. "I know."
She squeezed him tighter and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder… heedless of the mixed looks she was receiving from the elves. They shared a quiet moment together: they both knew, somehow, it would be their last for some time to come.
"I need to return to the Conference very soon, before they miss me," she said at length. "As you say, if I'm going to inconvenience a room full of delegates, I'd better be there for the show. If only to remind them why they've convened in the first place."
He nodded. "And y'know, if everyone's confined to their offices, this is a perfect time for me to try to break into the Death Chamber again. Less chance I'll be noticed, eh?" Getting to his knees, he retrieved the Stealth Cloak from where he'd put it after earlier removing it, and began to drape it over his shoulders.
"If Mister Harry will wait," said Canby, stepping towards Hermione, "Canby will take Miss Hermione to the Atrium, then come back for him…"
"No need," Harry interrupted. "I've been to the Department of Mysteries once - I can find my way there again. Take care of Hermione first, please, Canby… then join me when you can. We'll try some of our ideas together." He settled the Cloak into place and vanished from view; the faint puff of his Apparation was almost anti-climactic.
Canby sighed and shook his head. "Mister Harry is very much like house-elves, isn't he, Miss Hermione?"
"Mm hmm, in some ways," Hermione said, but her mind was elsewhere. She had to admit, she was loath to go back to the Conference and confront Zabini - without having something in hand she could use to stop him! Oh, if worst came to worst, she'd show Ginny's memory to the assembled delegates, but it wasn't enough: at most, it might associate Zabini with Swivingham's death, and that weakly. The memory didn't even prove that the three wizards were the Cartel Lords, let alone that Zabini was working hand-in-glove with the Cartel.
Even Lovinett, if he testified, could only show Zabini ordered Swivingham's death - I'd lay odds Zabini never told Lovinett about the Cartel. Though Lovinett's sequestered memories do suggest the Cartel's Obliviator paid him a visit… Face it, Hermione, the only people who can show Zabini's connection to the Cartel Lords are either dead or Obliviated.
She paused. Or have no reason to testify. Yet.
Perhaps, just perhaps… I can give them one.
Canby was at her elbow, ready to leave. "One moment, Canby," Hermione said slowly, considering an idea. She turned and addressed the female elves. "You six were prepared to testify against Jack Swivingham… because it was the right thing to do. Are you still prepared to do the right thing?"
Hesitantly, wondering where The Witch Who Won was leading, they nodded.
"And more to the point, will you help us free Ayesha, as Fatima asked, so they can be together again? And not have to work… like that… any more, ever?"
More enthusiastic nods this time, and Brillig took Fatima's hand in encouragement.
"Then I need your help," Hermione said firmly. She stretched her arms out, as though to bring the elves together into a conspiracy, and they didn't hesitate to gather around her.