The first thing she was aware of was a cacophony of voices and the sound of multiple pairs of feet slapping the tiled floor as they ran closer. Her body shook violently and she ached everywhere. Hands were on her, and she was dragged backwards. When she opened her eyes she saw Harry on one side of her and Ron on the other. After a quick assessment she realized she had managed to apparate without splinching herself.
They were surrounded by Healers, but she pushed herself to her knees and crawled a few short feet to where Harry lay, her wand forgotten.
"You need to lie still so we can treat you," came a voice from her right.
"No, I'm fine. You need to help them. Please," she pleaded, and shook the hand off her shoulder.
Harry's face was being blocked from her view and all she could do was touch his leg. She knew someone was trying to speak to her, but she couldn't hear them.
Hands on her shoulders began to lift her to her feet and she finally dropped back into the present. She tried to shrug them off, but they were strong, and then Arthur was in front of her.
"Hermione, dear, they need to take them to St. Mungo's," he said gently, and the whine of panic she had tried to suppress made itself known.
All she could do was shake her head repeatedly to emphasize how much she did not agree.
"Wh...why?" she managed to stutter out. She watched as Healers loaded both of them onto floating gurneys and her knees buckled underneath her. Bill's hands on her arms were the only thing that kept her up.
"Just as a precaution," he assured her, but she could see the fear in his eyes and knew he wasn't telling her the entire truth.
She summoned a strength she didn't know she had and pushed off of Bill to march to the Healer who stood at Harry's head.
"What is his condition?" she demanded, before she actually looked down at him.
It was a mistake.
His face was pale gray and slack, and so not like the Harry she was used to seeing. Her fingers trembled as they reached out to brush ash from his cheek and forehead, and carded through the messy fringe in front. Whatever the Healer said she hadn't heard.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said with a raspy voice. "Could you repeat that?"
She felt Bill step in behind her and vaguely wondered if he thought she was going to collapse.
"Mr. Potter has suffered a severe blow to the head. He needs to be under supervision at the hospital and allowed to wake up on his own. We cannot enervate him without risking further damage," the Healer explained.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she clutched Harry's arm to keep upright. Her leg throbbed in pain, and if Bill hadn't caught her about the waist she would have fallen on the stretcher along with Harry.
"We need to leave now. I'm sorry," the Healer said, and Hermione felt arms trying to pull her back.
"No!" was ripped from her throat of its own volition, and she leaned forward over Harry. Hair that had fallen from its band provided them a modicum of privacy.
The backs of her fingers trailed over his cheek, and she didn't realize she was crying until they also brushed away tears. "You have to wake up," she whispered fiercely. "I cannot do this without you. Do you hear me, Harry Potter? I love you." She pressed her lips to his, but had to pull back when he didn't respond; it was too difficult.
There was no more time. Harry was immediately taken, and Ron passed her as well. She had just long enough to reach a hand out to skim over his arm before they were both gone, and she was alone.
She took a shuddering breath and scrubbed both hands over her face quickly. "I have to go with them," she said to no one in particular.
"You need to get checked out," Bill said, and she realized he still had an arm around her.
She shook her head. "I'm fine. I just need to go with them," she said firmly and tried to pull away, but as soon as she took the first step her leg buckled.
Arthur conjured a chair and Bill forced her down into it without a word. She saw Arthur motion to the Healer that had remained and she sat stoically while they worked on her. She winced when a spell was used on her leg, but other than that she didn't utter a word.
Finally the Healer stepped back. "The leg had a slight fracture but it's been healed, although you may find it painful for the next day or so. Your magical reserves are quite low. I wouldn't recommend attempting any magic until you feel recovered. You'll feel more tired and should rest as much as possible."
Hermione laughed at the absurdity of what he had just said. Rest. That wasn't even in the realm of possibility. "I'll be fine," she said offhand and pushed herself out of the chair.
"Where's my wand?" she asked suddenly, as she realized she had dropped it on the floor earlier.
"Here," Bill said and pressed it into her hands.
"Thank you," she replied as she slipped it back into its holster. "I'll be at St. Mungo's..." she began before numerous voices began calling out her name.
Kingsley was approaching from one direction, Chelsea from another, and finally Jenny Dawlish seemed desperate to speak to her as well.
"I've only just heard what happened," Kingsley said, anger in his voice at whatever the reason for the delay was. "Where is Harry?"
"We were in the lift, when there was an explosion of some sort. I'm sorry, I'm not exactly sure," she said honestly. "I think it came from underneath. There was no one else in the lift besides myself, Harry, and Ron."
"And where are they now?" he asked impatiently as he looked around and did not see them. Hermione could not bring herself to speak the words and was grateful when Arthur did so for her.
"They've been taken to St. Mungo's with head injuries."
Kingsley looked shocked and then appraised Hermione from head to toe. "How did you manage to escape unharmed?" and she heard it in his voice, the barest hint of suspicion. She should have been offended or taken aback, but instead it just made her sad that they had been pushed to this.
"She saved them all, Kingsley," Bill said, his voice hard. He had heard Kingsley's tone as well. "She managed to keep the car from plummeting to the bottom of the shaft, as well as keep the walls from caving in around them. She should be getting your commendation, not your criticism."
Kingsley looked slightly abashed and began to apologize, but she waved him off. "Don't. We have no idea who we can trust."
The longer they stood talking was the longer she was kept away from Harry. "I'm sorry, Sir, but could we continue this at the hospital?"
Kingsley stepped forward until he was directly in front of her. "Hermione, I hate to ask this of you, but with Harry unavailable I need you here to run the department."
She had heard his words, but she wasn't sure she fully understood them. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"We're down two Order members. You're the only one I trust to run this place in Harry's absence." She realized he was making a point to say he trusted her.
Thoughts swirled, as she realized just what was being asked of her. Not only the responsibility of the department, but also having to do it alone.
Her chest tightened, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. One hand came up to her throat and she pressed the back of the other hand across her open mouth. Kingsley reached an arm out and she stepped back, the hand over her mouth going out to hold him off. "Just...I need a minute," she said haltingly, and stumbled a few feet before her legs decided to work.
She pushed past Arthur, and Bill, and Chelsea, and Jenny, and half the damn department that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She wasn't even sure what level she was on, and the glaze of tears in her eyes prohibited her from reading any signs.
A door was open to her right and she entered without thought. It was a small office, but it was dark, quiet, and exactly what she needed.
She fell into the chair and let her head fall into her hands. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be expected to run this department while Harry and Ron lay in St. Mungo's. How could anyone think she'd be capable of this under the best of circumstances, much less under the ones they were now making this request. She was research and logic, good with a wand, and the clever one. She didn't think outside the box, or make the hard decisions, or even have one fifth the field experience that Harry had. They were a team; that's why they worked so well.
And now she was being asked to do this broken and incomplete, and everything was being put on her shoulders. She thought that maybe she finally understood how Harry had felt walking into the forest.
A shaft of light cut across the floor at her feet and she looked up to see the figures of Arthur and Bill silhouetted in the doorway.
"Hermione, I'm going to go to the hospital. We'll keep you informed. I promise," Arthur said hesitantly, and it finally struck her that he, once again, had to deal with his youngest son being gravely injured. She just nodded.
Bill crouched in front of her. "I'm going to go with Dad, but I'll call Fleur and Mum; they won't let Harry be alone, alright," he assured her, and she made a ragged gasp as he had foreseen her biggest fear; that Harry would have no one by his side. "As soon as they've arrived I'll come back and help any way I can."
"No, Bill, stay there! Tell me you'll stay there. You have to protect them, Bill! What if..." she said, frantic as she recalled the horror of when they thought Ron had been killed, and the attack that had occurred at the hospital.
His hands covered hers and squeezed hard one time before letting go. "I know," he said, very deliberately, and she knew he had already had the same thought. "We won't let them out of our sight. I promise you."
Her lips pressed into a thin line and all she could do was nod.
"I know you don't want to hear this, but half the department is waiting to see you," Bill said.
She turned away from him. "I can't do this," she whispered.
"Yes, you can," he replied with fervor. "You bossed Harry and Ron around on your own for nearly a year. If you can handle that, you can handle anything."
She appreciated his attempt at levity, but this was so much bigger than the three of them on the run together.
"Maybe I just don't want to," she admitted, and he gave her a sad smile.
"How often do we get what we want?" he asked pointedly, and she let the words settle inside her.
"Quite right," she said softly. "You're a good man, Bill Weasley."
He gave her a broad grin at that and pulled her to her feet. "You're not so bad yourself, kid."
Arthur stepped forward and gave her a hug. "They'll be fine in no time," he said with conviction she wished she shared.
"Now, fix yourself up, and go out there and see to your people," Bill said, before he dropped a brotherly kiss on her hair and headed out the door after his father.
She did as Bill suggested. She re-tied her hair, brushed the soot from her robes, and took a deep breath to center herself before she walked back to where they waited.
Chelsea met her halfway. "Special Auror Granger, I'm sorry, Ma'am, Acting Head..." but before she could go any further Hermione waved her off.
"Stop. Call me Hermione, or Ma'am, or whatever else you want, but do not ever again refer to me as `Acting Head', do I make myself clear?" she ordered.
"Yes, Ma'am," Chelsea answered. "Ma'am, we have preliminary reports from the origin of the explosion, as well as some new information out of Japan that just came in. Jenny Dawlish wishes to speak with you, the specialist from St. Mungo's has information about Yarborough's condition, and the Minister has requested that you meet with him again as soon as possible; he's returned to his office."
Hermione stopped dead in the hallway, already overwhelmed. "Ok, let's return to the department. I want to see the reports on the explosion immediately and tell Jenny I'll come to containment as soon as I can." She resumed her trek to the lifts when she realized they wouldn't be able to go that way. "Is there another way down? Stairs perhaps?" she asked.
Chelsea blushed at her lack of foresight. "Sorry, Ma'am. There is an auxiliary lift just this way," she said and went down a short hall to their left.
As they stood outside the doors and waited, a streak of fear and uneasiness shot through Hermione. "Have the lifts shut down until they can be inspected. I think we'll take the stairs right now, if that's alright with you."
Chelsea blanched at the thought that the other lifts could also be set with explosives.
She coughed once nervously. "Stairs are this way."
The bullpen was subdued, and they had almost reached the office when she stopped short. "Do you think I should say something? Make some sort of announcement?" Hermione asked.
Chelsea looked a bit taken aback by her question. "I think that would be a fine idea, Ma'am."
Hermione turned and cleared her throat once. "Could I have your attention, please," she called, and watched as heads popped up from cubicles, and curious Aurors appeared as if they'd been summoned. "Until Head Auror Potter has been released from St. Mungo's I'll be in charge. I expect everyone to continue working with the same diligence and skill that I know you are capable of. Finding out how an explosion was set off inside the Ministry is our first priority at this moment. It may seem as though we have been dealt yet another setback, but I believe we are on the cusp of a turning point and, as we have always done in the past, we will prevail."
She saw several nods of heads and quite a few muttered words between coworkers when she was finished. She hadn't intended on saying what she had; she wasn't even sure where it had come from.
Chelsea had opened the door to the office and waited just inside. As soon as she had entered, Hermione flicked her fingers at the door, but nothing happened. Her magic had taken a hit. She shut the door manually and took the reports on the explosion to the table.
"Do we know what the explosion was exactly?" Hermione asked as she flipped through pages.
"It seems to be a muggle device called a grenade," Chelsea said, pronouncing the unfamiliar word carefully.
"A grenade!" Hermione exclaimed.
"But reports are suggesting there was some sort of delayed detonation charm, or some other way to ignite the bomb at a specific time."
"Where was it located?" Hermione asked.
Chelsea shrugged. "They're not sure. Possibly the underside of the car, although some have suggested if that was the case...if that was the case none of you would be alive right now."
Hermione nodded; that she could believe. "So it was most likely attached somewhere in the shaft. Who would have access?"
"Ministry maintenance would. Although anyone could access it if they wanted to I suppose." Chelsea supplied. "There is a team trying to determine when it was placed and if you were its intended target."
Hermione swallowed heavily at this. "Yes, well...there must have been some way they set it up to make sure there were people in the car. The explosion didn't do much damage outside of the lift shaft did it?"
"No, Ma'am. Damage outside of the shaft was minimal."
"Is there any way to keep out of reports that this was a Muggle device? Can we just refer to it as a bomb, or an explosion, or even some sort of unknown detonator? The less that ties this to Muggles the better. I believe the grenade was used on purpose to fuel the anti-Muggle bent this other side is on," Hermione said.
"Yes, Ma'am. We can do that. All reports will cross your desk first, as well as any briefings that are intended for the press," Chelsea assured her.
"Good. Now, what's going on in Japan?" she asked, and sank into the nearest chair; her leg had begun to hurt again.
"They've reported that the Japanese Ministry is choosing to close their school until further notice," Chelsea said with some trepidation.
Hermione's eyes shut tight and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't say I blame them. Is there any chance we can get them to change their mind?"
"Not likely, Ma'am. They intend to close their borders in three hours. No floo, no owls, and anti-apparition wards up around the entire country. Unless there are people embedded there from the other side, no one is getting in or out."
Hermione sighed again. "What about our people? Have they been withdrawn?"
"Not yet, Ma'am. Only the Head Auror has the authority to pull a team in from the field." Chelsea said.
"Well, pull them in already," Hermione said, exasperated. "The Japanese Ministry will just have to do their best without us then. I'm not leaving our people there to be trapped indefinitely."
"Yes, Ma'am. I'll send the directive immediately. We'll just need your signature."
"Go take care of that now, and then I'll go over to containment," Hermione decided, and Chelsea scurried from the room.
As soon as the door shut she fell forward and let her head rest on the table. She was exhausted. It was gone midnight now, and with a jolt she realized it hadn't even been twenty four hours since she'd been in that bathroom being hit with Crucio. Her body still twitched faintly on occasion, but she had been able to ignore it for the most part.
With nothing to keep her attention, her thoughts went straight to Harry, and the pit in her stomach grew as she wondered how he was. It was a physical pull to be by his side, and she was being forced to pretend it wasn't there. She hated this.
Chelsea knocked quietly before she entered, and it gave Hermione enough time to wipe wet eyes and sit up.
The assistant slid a tray in front of her with a cup of tea, half a sandwich, a bowl of soup, and the parchment she needed to sign.
The smells of the food simultaneously made her want to eat and be sick. Very purposely she took the parchment off the tray and then pushed it aside, not caring that the tea sloshed everywhere.
Chelsea opened her mouth to protest but Hermione cut her off with a look. "Quill, please," she said tersely, and Chelsea handed her one silently.
She looked through the order, and only hesitated briefly when she saw her name and `Head Auror' together at the bottom with a space for her to sign. She scribbled her name hastily and pushed the paper across the table as soon as she was done.
Chelsea gave it a tap with her wand and it rolled itself and vanished. She looked nervous, and then made the decision to speak. "You should eat, Ma'am." When Hermione didn't respond she pushed on. "You know you should. I'll go tell Auror Dawlish you'll be by in a few minutes." Before Hermione could answer, she was gone.
Hermione eyed the tray, and finally reached out and pulled it back towards her. With a shaky hand she lifted the tea and took a small sip. When her stomach didn't reject it, she had another.
The file on the explosion was still there and she flipped it open to look through again as a distraction while she ate. She managed half the sandwich and a bit of the soup, although she tasted none of it.
When she could no longer bring herself to take another bite, she stood up slowly and winced at how her leg protested. The walk to containment was not going to be pleasant.
The office was quieter than she had ever seen it, and no one bothered her as she limped her way across the floor.
Jenny was waiting for her at the main door and looked anxious. An older man in a tweed coat and wire rimmed glasses stood next to her.
"You're the specialist from St. Mungo's, I presume," Hermione said as she approached.
"Yes, I've been able to recover some of the subject's memories," he said without preamble and Hermione was grateful.
"What specifically?" she asked.
"He was in fact Obliviated, quite recently too. It was directed at very specific memories, but I do believe they will be recoverable. What I have learned is that he seemed to be working for the other side willingly," he said quite confidently. "His more recent memories are proving problematic."
"How long until you'll have the rest?" If there was the slightest chance they'd be able to question him, it would mean everything.
"Two hours at the most."
"Thank you, you can resume your work. I need to speak to Auror Dawlish." Hermione waited for him to reenter the interrogation room before she turned to Jenny.
"How are you coming along with the charm?" she asked, and hoped that she sounded less desperate than she felt.
"I'm making progress, Ma'am. It's a difficult spell, but I believe I've isolated it, and I've started testing some theories on how to cancel or disarm it," Jenny said earnestly.
"Very good. You'll have until the memory specialist is done. After that we're going to need to start questioning him." Jenny nodded nervously.
"How's Mr. Potter, Ma'am?" she asked and Hermione's breath caught in her throat.
She didn't know. She hadn't had word from St. Mungo's at all. There had been no owl, no floo call. She had no bloody clue how he was.
"I'm sure he's fine," she forced herself to say, but the words got stuck and she saw the pity in the young Auror's eyes.
"I'm sure you're right," she replied with a sad smile. "I'm going to get back to work."
Except for the two guards, Hermione was alone. She allowed her shoulders to sag and her head to hang for a moment. Chelsea startled her when she approached suddenly.
Her entire demeanor had changed. Her face was pinched, she was slightly out of breath, and her portfolio was nowhere to be seen.
Hermione's stomach dropped, and she felt the start of a panic attack begin.
"There's someone here," Chelsea said breathlessly. "They've come from St. Mungo's...next of kin..."
That's all Hermione heard. The rush of blood to her head blocked out all sound and there was a pain in her chest that only continued to grow.
"No, no, no, no, no," was all she was able to get out.
Another set of footfalls approached and she looked up to see George. "Oh gods!" she exhaled, her hand came up to cover her mouth and she knew her eyes were wide with shock and grief. "He's not! I'd know! He's not!" she said emphatically.
George grabbed her by the elbows and lowered his head so he could look her in the eye. "He's not! I swear," he said slowly and she nodded that she understood, even though the pain in her chest refused to retreat. "But the Healer's need to see you, and Harry had you down as his next of kin."
This information didn't even phase her, and she just nodded again. "Ok. We'll go. Right now," she said decisively and wiped her wet cheeks. She didn't even turn back to look at Chelsea. The damn department could go hang itself for all she cared right then, and Kingsley right along with it.
The walk to the floos seemed like it would never end, and George was unnaturally silent. Once they were in the cool night air, she followed him to the apparation point and froze. She didn't think her magic had recovered to the point where she could manage on her own.
"Um, George, I'm sorry to ask, but...could you side along with me?" she said quickly "Or maybe I can just find another floo somewhere," she added, mortified she had to ask.
George didn't so much as blink. "Bill told me what you did; it's no problem," he said sincerely. "Ready?" All she could do was blink furiously and nod once. She was about to see Harry.
George apparated them into the main lobby of St. Mungo's, but at this time of night it was deadly silent and empty.
Hermione clutched the fabric of his sleeve for a second longer and then let go when she felt her legs steady underneath her.
Bill was waiting for them, and she limped towards him as fast as she could. His expression was unreadable. She'd been numb since George had come to get her and apprehension grew with every footfall.
"How is he?" she asked immediately.
"He hasn't woken up yet; that's what the Healer's want to talk to you about," Bill said gently, and she tried to keep her composure.
She let Bill take the lead, George trailing after them. Soon enough Bill pushed through a set of double doors that led to a long hallway.
Bill nodded to a nurse at the desk and kept walking past, but the woman jumped to her feet when she spotted Hermione. "I'm sorry, miss, access to this ward is restricted."
She was stunned silent. "I'm here to see Harry Potter," she finally managed to mumble out.
"I'm sure you are, dearie. But the ward is still closed," said the long suffering nurse.
"You're joking," Hermione said, but the woman just shook her head.
"No one in but family I'm afraid." Hermione stared at her like she could not comprehend the words she had said.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked.
"I don't care if you're the Queen Mum, you're not getting through on my watch," the nurse replied with finality.
Shock was now being replaced by anger as this woman was the last thing standing between her and Harry.
Hermione marched to the desk and slammed her badge on top, pleased to see the nurse jump and also take a long look at it. "I'm the bloody Head Auror for the Ministry of Magic! I want to see Harry Potter. Take me to my hus..." she choked off the last word and clamped a hand over her mouth. Dear Merlin, she had almost called Harry her husband. In public. The press would have had a field day with that if it got out.
Bill finally stepped forward, broken out of his stupor by her outburst. "This is Hermione Granger, she's Harry's next of kin," he said easily and whether it was this or her display she would never know, but the nurse waved them through without another word.
Bill's hand wrapped around her elbow and he guided her still shocked frame down the hallway. George caught up with them and he flanked her other side.
"You two didn't hear that," she said in a low voice.
"Hear what?" they said in perfect unison, and she knew they'd never mention it again. Well, Bill wouldn't. George she wasn't so sure about.
Just then Fleur's head popped out of an open door and Hermione pulled away from Bill and attempted to half jog, half limp the rest of the way down the hall.
"Is he in there?" she asked breathlessly, and Fleur nodded and stepped aside.
She didn't remember how she got to the bedside, just that she was suddenly there with his hand in hers. Her eyes blurred with tears and she brushed them away angrily so she could see him. He wasn't as pale as he had been before, and other than some fading bruises and a few small scrapes he just looked like he was sleeping.
She let out a shuddering breath and sat gingerly on the bed next to him. With her legs tucked up beneath her, she leaned forward until she could lay her head on his chest. She held her breath and then, ever so faint, she could hear his heart.
She shut her eyes tight and exhaled shakily, as her hand fisted in the blanket across his middle. Her world had narrowed to Harry. He was all she could see, hear, and feel.
She wanted nothing more than for him to wake up right then, to be able to squeeze her hand and smile and let her know that all of this was going to be alright.
A noise from the far side of the room caused her to lift her head, and when she heard it again she realized it was the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Fleur and Bill still stood in the doorway, but between them was a Healer with an expectant look on his face.
Hermione sat up further but didn't let go of Harry or move to get off the bed.
"Ms. Granger?" the Healer asked and she nodded.
"Mr. Potter's medical orders state that you are his next of kin. Is this true?"
"Um, yes...yes it is," she answered, not actually aware of when Harry had made that so.
"Mr. Potter suffered a severe blow to the back of his head. There has been bruising to the brain, and while we have been able to minimize the damage and heal the bruise, he has still not woken up."
"Should he...should he have woken up by now?" she barely managed to get out, and the grip she had on Harry's hand was so tight she was sure it would leave marks.
"That's hard to say. I would have expected him to have at this point, yes. The reason I called you here is because we can try to enervate him, but there is a risk it could do more harm," the Healer explained.
"No," she said immediately. "You're not doing it. He'll wake up when he's ready to wake up. I'll sign whatever I need to sign or post a bloody guard here to make sure it doesn't happen, but you're to not go anywhere near him. Do you understand!" she had slid off the bed during her tirade, and now stood between Harry and the Healer, as if she could provide him some sort of physical protection.
The Healer was taken aback by her reaction. "Ms. Granger, I assure you, we would never perform a procedure if directed not to," he sputtered, and she relaxed minimally. "We will continue to keep Mr. Potter under observation. Thank you for coming so promptly." Before she could respond, he exited the room.
Fleur and Bill had stepped to the side to let him out and then they approached slowly. "How are you?" Fleur asked quietly.
Hermione slumped back onto the bed, and turned so she could look at Harry again. Exhausted, hurt, overwhelmed, and scared is how she wanted to answer, but instead she just said, "Fine."
"We'll just be outside if you need us. Ron's in the next room over," Bill said.
"Oh gods!" she said and spun her head back in their direction. "How's Ron?"
Fleur approached her quickly and laid a hand on her arm. "He's fine. He's already woken up once and asked about you and Harry."
"Thank you," Hermione whispered. "Thank you for watching out for them. I wanted to be here but..."
"I understand," Fleur said and gave her a hug before she left with Bill.
There was just enough room on the bed that she could stretch out next to Harry. She caught herself moving carefully, as if she was afraid she would wake him, and the half laugh that caught in her throat quickly turned into sobs.
She curled into his side and pressed her face into his arm. The bed shook with her release and she clung to him in desperation as she could finally let go of the overwhelming stress and fear she had been burdened with.
Although she only intended to stay for a short while, exhaustion claimed her and she slept deeply until a hand shook her shoulder.
She came to with a gasp and half sat up, as she scrubbed a hand across her face. Her face was puffy and tacky from dried tears. Bill stood to the side, a sheepish look on his face for having woken her.
"Sorry," he said. "I'd have let you sleep longer, but an owl came from the Ministry."
"What time is it?" she asked in a sleep roughened voice.
"Half past four."
"Damn," she cursed under her breath; she had never meant to be gone that long.
Bill handed her the letter. Jenny had written to say that the specialist was finished and she had news about the charm.
Hermione took a deep breath and sat up all the way to swing her legs to the floor. She was sure Chelsea had a stack of reports for her as well. A thought struck her as she sat there and looked at Bill. "You never got a chance to give Harry your briefing from the bank," she said suddenly.
Bill looked slightly surprised as well. "You're right," he said and ran a hand over the back of his head.
"Want to do it now?" she asked, pulling her knees up so she could rest her chin on them.
"If you want. You're in charge," he said with a half smile, and she sent him a glare.
"Eighteen months ago we had a new hire, a wizard named Byron Murdoch. He seemed perfect for the position; had an aptitude for numbers, and got along with the goblins. They don't hire many wizards at Gringotts, as you know, so his being offered a position was a big deal." Hermione nodded and waited for him to continue.
Bill drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. "He was working the day of the attack. When the request was made to access your vault, he held up the goblins that were supposed to take you to it and made up some fake story about how there needed to be a check of the vault first, before you were taken to inspect the inventory."
Hermione looked at him in confusion; that seemed like an incredibly weak excuse to use, especially on goblins.
Bill caught her look. "Exactly. Goblins should not be tricked by something so unbelievable. But they did it, they went to your vault first, did an inventory, and returned. In the meanwhile the floo in a private office was accessed. Floo usage at the bank is practically nonexistent. They keep the floos open for customers, but the one in that office hadn't been used in over a decade."
"He was contacting his master. To tell them I was out in the open," she said stiffly.
Bill nodded, "That's what I believe as well, but in order for him to do this...I think he Confunded the goblins."
"Confunded the goblins!" she repeated in surprise "Is that even possible?"
"I wouldn't have thought so but...I don't have another explanation," he said with a shrug. "I've had to very, very careful; that's why it's taken so long. Even so, I wouldn't be surprised if the goblins had caught on to what I was doing," Bill said. The way he narrowed his eyes made her think he was in danger of losing his job over what he had done.
"I appreciate what you've done, Bill, and I know Harry does as well," she said, and hoped he wouldn't get into trouble. "So where is he now? Has he gone on the run?"
"He's at the bank and should be reporting to work in the next couple of hours. I made sure I did nothing to tip him off," Bill assured her.
"Good. I'll have a team pick him up this morning," she stated, and hoped this one could also give her more answers.
"Gods, they're everywhere, aren't they?" she said dejectedly. "The Prophet, the Ministry, Gringotts, my bloody Muggle university. And we're just starting to maybe get an idea of what's going on."
Bill didn't answer, but she didn't expect him to. There was really nothing that could be said.
She sat for a moment longer and then lowered her feet down to the floor again. She rubbed tired eyes and turned once more to Harry. He looked the same, and she sighed heavily. Before she could think too much on it, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispered `I love you', and got to her feet.
"Let's go," she said to Bill, and left without looking back.
Fleur was in the hallway and she looked worn out, but she gave Hermione the brightest smile she could manage. "I will let you know if there is any change," Fleur promised, and Hermione hugged her in response.
"Do you need me to take you back?" Bill asked.
"No, I actually feel stronger now since I slept some. I think I'll be fine," she answered. "Take care of them," she said thickly and turned on the spot.
She pointedly did not look at the nurse as she passed the desk.
It wasn't difficult to apparate back to the Ministry, and soon enough she was climbing the stairs back to the Auror department.
Chelsea was nowhere to be seen for once, and Hermione headed straight to containment. Jenny wasn't around either, but the guard told her Yarborough had been moved into the interrogation room and the specialist had left a full report for her.
She moved to the observation room and picked up the file, purposely turning her back to the glass so she wouldn't be distracted when Yarborough was brought in.
The specialist had managed to recover the memories that had been Obliviated. He had not questioned Yarborough as to his motives or anything to do with what he had done at the Prophet. His final note said that he did not think there would be any issue with gaining access to memories about who Yarborough was working for.
Hermione heard doors being shut in the next room and closed the file harshly. When she turned, she saw that he had been brought in.
She studied Yarborough through the observation glass. He was thin and gangly and looked so very young. The memories the specialist had been able to recover made it seem that he had done this willingly; that he had chosen to work for the dark side. But Hermione wondered if he really knew what he was doing. However, as soon as she had that thought she realized that if she had been as committed to believing in and working for good at her age, then the opposite had to be possible.
Jenny had asked for two hours, and Hermione had given her four. If she hadn't figured out a way to break the charm, they would be left with nothing to go on.
Without a moment to fully think about what she was doing, she raised her hand and knocked on the door. An Auror opened it immediately. "Yes, Ma'am," he said.
"Give the suspect veritaserum. I'll be in to interrogate him shortly," she ordered, and he slipped out.
Yarborough tried to struggle, but they got the potion down him. She waited a few minutes and then went to walk in. "Find Jenny Dawlish and tell her to meet me in the observation room," she told the same Auror she had asked to administer the truth serum.
She didn't sit when she entered, and chose instead to remain standing. Yarborough looked at her with glassy eyes.
"How long have you been a mole at the Prophet?" she began.
"Two years," he replied immediately.
"Were you working there before you were approached, or were you placed there purposely?" she asked.
"I was placed there," he answered.
"What was your mission?"
"I was to learn the inner workings of the paper, and gain access to the print duplication and owl delivery." His voice had become more strained
"When were you notified that yesterday's afternoon edition was going to be changed?"
"Two days ago."
"Was the person who told you this the man in charge, or someone who worked for him?" she had to be careful, any direct question of who he was working for would trigger the charm.
"Someone who worked for him." Sweat had started to bead on his brow, as he struggled against the potion.
"Do you know the name of the person in charge, the person who has masterminded this entire plan?" Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she awaited his answer.
"Yes," he said and she backed away immediately; she wasn't going to ask him anymore until they knew how to deactivate the charm. They had him.
She exited quickly and turned to the Auror at the door. "No one is to speak to him until I go back in, do you understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he snapped off, and resumed his position.
Jenny was waiting for her in observation. Her face was pale and pinched and she looked sick.
"What is it?" Hermione demanded, any hope she had starting to fade.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I don't think it's going to work," she said.
"Why not? I thought you were close?" Frustration, and anger made Hermione's voice break.
"The charm is so...deep. It's twisted around their magic almost. I can find no way to actually separate it so that the trigger doesn't activate the Imperius. I did figure out a way to hold it off some, to delay it, but that doesn't do us much good." Jenny looked completely forlorn and defeated.
A horrible thought came to Hermione and she actually turned away and covered her mouth in reaction. She forced the thoughts to the side and looked back at Jenny. "How long could you hold it off for?" she asked in a voice so hollow she didn't recognize it as her own.
"Maybe twenty seconds, thirty at the most, but maybe not even that long," Jenny said noncommittally and, bless her, she had not yet grasped why Hermione had asked.
"But if he was under veritaserum and the charm was held off, he would have enough time to answer the question before the Imperius activated." Hermione made herself hold the young Auror's eye line and she knew exactly when she understood what she had asked.
"Oh gods!" Jenny exclaimed, "But you'd kill him!"
Hermione turned and rested a hand on the glass as she stared right at Yarborough. "I know."
There was silence in the small room.
Hermione had never wanted Harry more than she did at that moment. He could make this decision. He could see all the facts and decide whether this was an act they could commit because the end justified the means, or if it wasn't worth it. She had never had to do something like this before. She was the one that provided the information, and she would go along with Harry's plan, but she had never been asked to do this.
"Ma'am." Jenny said softly. "The veritaserum is going to wear off soon." Hermione heard her audibly swallow before she continued. "If we're going to do this it needs to be now, or we'll have to wait."
Hermione nodded. Knowing the name of who was in charge would change the game for them. They would no longer be forced to guess and investigate multiple lines, never knowing which one was correct. If they knew who to look for they could place all their resources behind flushing them out.
They had been made to play catch up from the start. They had never had the upper hand or been ahead. Hit after hit had rocked them, and it was harder to keep getting back up.
She shut her eyes tight, and forced herself to recall everything that had happened. Ron's attack, the car crash, the deaths of all the students in Norway, how Harry had looked after he killed Lazlo, the magical loss of the German school, and finally Harry and Ron still lying in St. Mungo's. When her eyes opened they flashed with righteousness, and determination. She knew later on, when she had time to really consider what she had done, she'd second guess herself. But until then, the department was her responsibility and it was her call.
She placed the image of the dead Norwegian girl who looked so much like Victoire at the forefront of her mind and turned to face Jenny.
"Do it."