The Catalyst
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Chapter Two: Euphoria Broken
Wariness stepped in to moderate her alarm, as Hermione eyed the Auror in a measured fashion.
"May I see your credentials?"
He murmured a spell, and a smoky rendition of an Auror ID constructed itself in the middle of the Healer's lounge. He seemed to appreciate her care, but think it unnecessary at the same time.
"We're not leaving the hospital. The… person you need to see is just down the corridor."
"All right," Hermione's voice was tempered with caution. She had heard the studied pause before he said `person', and she had no idea what he could be on about. A patient perhaps? Her residency had gone well; she would have stood out as the brightest, even if people hadn't known who she was. But she certainly wasn't an expert in a given field, and certainly couldn't give a better exam or a more learned opinion than fully qualified Healers who been practicing for years.
He held the door for her, as they exited the lounge area, and led her down a rabbit warren of corridors, until they were deep within the administrative wing of the facility. Just as her concern was about to cross over into utter bewilderment, he opened a final door that led them into a plush conference room. It was tucked so far out of the way, she wondered that it ever got used at all. Sitting at the oval table was another Auror, one only slightly older than she was, with a corona of blond hair that made him look even younger.
He stood to his feet as she entered, and extended his hand for her to shake.
"Healer Granger," he said by way of greeting. "I am Stuart Falworth, Auror Dunwiddie's partner."
"It's nice to meet you. May I ask what all this is regarding?" The confused bewilderment in her tone downplayed the genuine concern in her dark eyes.
Glances passed between the two men, and a door in the back that she had not heretofore noticed opened. Three people walked into the room, and took seats. Two of them were Chief Healers and department heads, and one was an Intercessor, a kind of Wizarding equivalent of a Muggle social worker.
Hermione began to feel somewhat cornered. Her eyes tripped back and forth across the solemn faces.
"Have I done something wrong?"
"Assuredly not, Healer Granger," Falworth said. "An Auror squadron recently ran a raid on a magical facility just outside of Nottingham. We received a tip that there had been some … well, some rather unsavory magical research going on there, magic that involved… wizards and witches as the subjects, most probably unwilling."
"They were experimenting on people without their consent!?" Hermione's voice sounded properly horrified, but Falworth knew she was still trying to gauge what she could have to do with any of this.
"Yes. When we got there, however, the facility had been cleaned out. They must have known that we were coming, and there wasn't much left to indicate exactly what they'd been doing. Except for the girl."
"Girl?" Hermione prodded him, when he paused. He seemed to be waiting for her to come to some kind of conclusion.
"Yes, a little girl. Not more than four or five years old, I should think. She called herself Eleanor, claimed to have no last name, no parents. Had no idea how old she was."
"That's terrible! Poor thing. I'm assuming you've done the Origo spell?" She asked about a spell that was somewhat similar to a Muggle DNA test.
"Yes, we have." Again, the Auror seemed to be waiting on her, for reasons that Hermione could not fathom. Were they waiting on her for advice… suggestions? Wouldn't their own department suffice for that kind of thing?
"Healer Granger, did you give a baby up for adoption approximately 5 years ago?" The Intercessor - Hermione recognized her vaguely - finally piped up and asked.
"I most certainly did not! Is that what this is regarding?" She sputtered a kind of angry half-laugh, inhaling so much air at once that she nearly choked. "It's absolutely preposterous! If those were the results, then clearly, your spell was faulty."
"Healer Granger," rumbled the low voice of Almeric Dudgeon, one of the most eminent healers at St. Mungo's. "The Origo was performed precisely the way it should be - more than once. There can be no question. The girl is yours."
"And I am telling you that it simply is not possible. I have - I have never been pregnant, much less ever given birth."
"We promise you that this can be handled with the utmost discretion. Someone of your status must naturally take greater care that…"
"Someone of my `status'?" Hermione bristled. "What exactly are you implying?" Only Hermione Granger could have made the Chief Healer over the Spell Damage ward, a venerable wizard who had seen at least eight decades go by, squirm in his chair.
"Nothing untoward, Healer Granger," Dudgeon interceded for his colleague, his voice sounding like a metal shovel scraped over gravel. Hermione could only assume he was attempting to be soothing. "However, given the fame of some of your… associates… as well as your own notoriety, we only want to offer our assurances that this will be handled in as quiet a manner as you could wish."
Hermione's brown eyes flashed fire, sweeping irately over those arrayed in front of her. Harry and Ron would have known the danger inherent in that disdainful gaze.
"Healer Dudgeon," she began, contempt dripping over her words like syrup, "I am not concealing anything out of shame or guilt or fear that something untoward will come to light. I am telling you the simple and unvarnished truth. I have never had a baby. Ever. The Origo has to be incorrect - that's all there is to it. Bring Healer Glauerhaven down from Obstetrics, if you like. I'm certain her spellwork would corroborate my claim."
Healer Dudgeon exchanged glances with his colleague, Healer Englebert Wilberforce. The two Aurors were flipping through the files, as if hoping to find some evidence of her veracity within. Hermione wondered why they were so convinced that she was lying - and that unquenchable clinical side of her was pondering how an Origo could be so miscast. It was a fairly complicated medical spell, but one taught in the first year of training. The silence grew oppressive, and the social worker's chair squeaked as she swiveled it in fidgety nervousness.
"Healer Granger," Auror Falworth began, after what seemed like an interminable period of time. His voice was gentle, and his eyes were kind, warm with a lively compassion that seemed engineered to engender trust. "It is not my intent to disparage your word, but - are you absolutely sure that you have never been pregnant, never carried a child to term, never given a blood-born child up for adoption?"
"Auror Falworth," she spoke to him in like vein, facing him squarely, imploring him to believe her. "I will be glad to undertake a Wizard's Oath. I have never had a baby."
"You've never had any sort of physical relationship with Harry Potter?"
"Excuse me?" The deceptively quiet question caught Hermione completely off-guard. She jerked her gaze up to the Auror so abruptly that it hurt. Bewilderment quickly gave way to indignation, then anger. It made her struggle to stay coherent. "What kind of tawdry - I am engaged to Ron Weasley. You may have seen the notice last week in the Prophet."
Falworth looked at her blandly, though Hermione could discern a glimmer of sympathy, before he pointed out the obvious.
"You haven't answered my question, Ms. Granger."
"The question is so ridiculous, it is hardly worthy of an answer! I am engaged to Harry's best friend. Harry is seeing Ron's sister. Neither Harry nor I have ever even thought of each other in such a context. And really, I fail to see why - " She stopped suddenly, and hurled an accusing glance back to Auror Falworth and his file. " - why you suddenly brought up Harry?" She phrased the end of her sentence as a stand-alone question, and waited, although she knew the answer before Falworth gave it.
"Harry Potter is Eleanor's father."
Hermione puffed a sardonic ssshtt of air between her teeth.
"I couldn't be more convinced that the fault lies with the Origo spell. Owl Harry and have him come in. Go on then. He'll tell you - he'll tell you the same thing I've told you." Hermione's eyes were almost triumphant now; it was apparent to everyone in the room that she was either telling the truth - or had convinced herself that she was.
"Healer Granger," Wilberforce spoke deliberatively, pulling at his long silver goatee, and twirling the end of it thoughtfully around his fingers. "The Origo was performed three different times, by three different Healers, including Healer Dudgeon and myself. The results were the same each time, ruling out spellcaster error. Unless you are suggesting that the fault lies within the little girl herself, that she somehow has the capability of misleading a wand, then… " He spread his hands, as if presenting an array of facts before them. "There was no ambiguity, no cloudy answer open to varying interpretations. You are welcome to review the findings yourself - or even cast your own Origo, if you'd like…"
Hermione nodded automatically and with a distinct air of distraction. She vaguely realized that she was still standing, and sank into the chair behind her, without really seeming to notice its presence. A snap of Dudgeon's fingers Summoned the paperwork from wherever it had been stored, and he gestured for it to slide in front of Hermione. She flipped through the pages mechanically, noting various details with one corner of her mind, but her concentration was turned inward, working furiously to determine how the impossible had, in fact, occurred.
The other occupants of the room did not have to wait long.
"You - you said - " Hermione began slowly, her mind racing ahead of her mouth's ability to articulate. Falworth arched his brows in an invitation for her to continue. "The - the facility - where you found the girl…" Eleanor, part of her whispered. "You said there were experiments being conducted - were there - was it only magical in nature, or were there - were there Muggle elements as well?"
She felt as if time had slowed down, as if her heart had become a force of its own, doggedly pounding a sludge of blood past her ears. Unknowingly her fingers curled in tension on the table, but the pressure of her nails did no damage to the lacquered surface. She absent-mindedly dog-eared the corner of the file with one thumb.
Falworth and Dunwiddie consulted the file.
"There was a wide array of potion ingredients that we were unfamiliar with. They appeared to be intended for administration by … injection." Dunwiddie shuddered slightly, his distaste at Muggle barbarism clear. "There were some strange diagrams as well. We've got Unspeakables with the most intensive Muggle training looking at them. Something like this?"
He slid another folder over to her, tapping a couple of small sketched examples. They were clearly drawings depicting molecular structure, as well as the double helices of human DNA.
"Oh my God," Hermione murmured, her voice a barely audible gasp of shock. Her pulse roared in her ears, and she closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
"Healer Granger, are you quite all right?"
No, I'm not all right, she wanted to vehemently shout. The violation - can you even imagine - how dare - Harry and I - we were …oh my God, we were harvested - without our consent, and they - whoever the hell it was - they made a person… out of us. And Ron - and - and Ginny - they - they'll… Her mind shied away from the topic. It was too much, too soon - she couldn't make herself approach it. How? and Why? perhaps had more concrete, more immediate answers. She let those questions crowd out What will we do about it now? and What will people say?
"Al - almost six years ago, after the - after the last battle w-with Voldemort… Harry and I - and Ron - we were all in St. Mungo's for a bit. It could have - " She reopened her eyes, and they were wide and unseeing with shock. "It could have been anyone, could have happened at any time. While we were sedated… a Stunner while we were sleeping, a Confunded mediwitch… Imperio…"
"Y - you're saying that someone - they - took parts of you and Mr. Potter, and created a baby without your knowledge or consent," Falworth looked utterly flabbergasted. Hermione knew that Muggle infertility treatments would be foreign to a large majority of the Wizarding populace.
"That's exactly what I'm saying. A gestational carrier - another woman - would have carried the baby to term. It's the only possibility." She speared him with a quick look, as if daring any of them to call her a liar again. "Whoever instigated this had knowledge of Muggle science, perhaps was working with Muggles - or was Muggle-Born themselves."
Stuart Falworth's eyes were moving furiously across the files. Hermione recognized the look of someone desperately trying to put things into some kind of sensible order. Finally, in frustration, he tossed the file back to the smoothly varnished tabletop, so that parchment fanned out in all directions.
"To what end?" He asked her helplessly.
Her forehead crinkled over troubled dark eyes.
"I don't know."
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