Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

THUD.

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself nose-to-nose with the worn and faded carpet on her bedroom floor. Damn, she moaned to herself while pushing herself up on one elbow so she could rub her hair exhaustedly out of her face. She hadn't fallen out of her bed because of a nightmare in over two years; this was hardly the time to start falling back in the habit now.

She kicked her blanket back onto the mattress and got to her feet with no intention of returning to bed. She knew perfectly well why she had had the nightmare: in a few hours, they would be breaking into the Ministry of Magic, the most dangerous place in the world. Her dream had included a very terrifying scene about what would happen if the plan went awry and all of them were captured. She shuddered again as the vision of Ron being tied down to a chair and tortured sprang up in her head. There was definitely no way she was going to be able to fall asleep anytime in the near future.

A glance out the window told her that it was hours before dawn. There was nothing else to do, but what she always did during exam week when she couldn't sleep: study some more. She returned to the kitchen table to once again examine the maps and plans. They would Disapparate to the alley; they would open the door to the abandoned theatre; they would Stun the little witch; they would drag her inside the theatre and pull out some of her hairs--

Over and over again Hermione recited the plan, checking the lists every now and again to ensure perfect accuracy. After she finished, she would go over to beaded bag to verify that all of the necessary items were safely stowed with easy reach. Absolutely nothing could go wrong today. Their lives depended on it.

Kreacher arrived at dawn and greeted Hermione cheerfully. She tried to return it, but opted to instead return upstairs and get dressed. She wouldn't mind getting to the Ministry an hour or two early; it was better than sitting around and listening to her heart pounding.

On her way back downstairs, she met Ron on the stairs and instantly became a thousand times more anxious. Last week, they had stopped sharing a bed; she had been angry at him for some reason that she couldn't even remember anymore and had stubbornly returned to her old bedroom. Ron hadn't commented on the change; he had actually looked grim and solemn, as though he had expected it to happen all along. She wished she could just swallow her pride and ask to come back, but they both knew that wouldn't happen any time soon.

She hugged herself and did her best to look normal although a trickle of apprehension was sliding eerily down her spine. Something was changing between her and Ron; she could feel it deep in her bones. She just had no idea what the devil it was. "Good morning."

"Morning," he greeted with a yawn. "You ready for this?"

"No," Hermione answered honestly. Harry seemed to be convinced that today was the day, but she wouldn't mind spending at least another week on their investigation. Harry was probably just upset about Snape being named headmaster and wanted to take action in any way he saw fit. She just wasn't so sure that getting them all captured would be the proper course of action to take.

Ron looked at her knowingly. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

"I got enough," Hermione defended herself.

"How much?"

"About two hours."

"Mental," Ron muttered somewhat affectionately. He jerked his chin towards the stairs. "Harry up?"

"Not yet."

"I'll wake him. You go get some coffee," Ron said. He turned and bounded up to the top floor. Hermione watched him go, hugging herself for added warmth. She and Ron were such a quandary at times; most of the time, he was like this, wonderful as ever, but there were other moments where she couldn't understand what was happening to him and it was those moments that seemed to be driving--no. No time for Ron today. Today was only about the Ministry and their plan.

The first phases of the plan went without a single hitch. She Stunned Mafalda and assumed her identity; she managed to convince Reg Cattermole to eat the Puking Pastille and go to hospital despite the fact that he seemed dead against it; Ron turned into Reg and now all that was left to do was find someone for Harry to impersonate. "Now wait here," Hermione told Harry, who was still under the Invisibility Cloak, "and we'll be back with some hairs for you."

Ron was already at the street, inspecting the terrain with a critical eye. Hermione stayed quiet as she approached him, somehow knowing that she should let him take the lead. After a moment, Ron started moving again and walked right past the black railing flanking the entrance to the men's room, heading towards a lamppost that was several yards away. Hermione scurried after him with a horribly jumpy stomach; perhaps she had been a bit quick to let Ron lead. "Ron, what are you doing? The entrance is over there."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. He glanced back at the steps and nodded at the wizard who was currently descending the stairs. "So it'd probably be best not to do this right in front of it, where everyone can see."

"But--"

"Trust me. We need to make them come to us," Ron explained confidently. He sounded like he did whenever he was laying an intricate trap on the chessboard. He tugged on the beaded bag. "Get out the Nougat."

"Do you see someone?" Hermione asked under her breath as she scrambled to pull out the candy in time.

"No." Ron looked all around him before leaning casually against the post. "Here. Stand in front of me and pretend like we're talking."

"We are talking."

"All the better," Ron returned easily. He nodded to the several pieces of Nosebleed Nougat she held in her hand. "Now just hold out the candy like we're sharing it, but don't eat any of it. You brought the antidotes, right?"

Hermione handed Ron the candy so she could reopen her purse. "Yes, but why would we--?"

"Just get them out," Ron said tightly. For the first time, Hermione realized he was just as nervous as she was. Hermione complied. "Put them in your pocket," Ron continued. "If I need one, give it to me." His eyes roved the crowd. "And make sure Dad isn't here when we do this."

"Why?"

"Because if he sees candy and a nosebleed, he's going to know it's us," Ron explained swiftly. Mr. Weasley had plenty of experience with Skiving Snackboxes.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Now what?"

"Now you recite the plan for me. Quietly of course," Ron replied simply. Hermione gaped at him and he smiled. "Go on. You know you want to although you've already done it forty-five thousand times this morning."

"But what good is that going to do..." Hermione trailed off as she realized something absolutely horrible. "Ron! You didn't forget, did you?"

"Bloody hell, no," Ron said impatiently. He looked as though he wished he could bang his head in annoyance on the post behind him, but a swallow and quick reminder of the dire importance of his mission kept him under control. "But we have to be talking to make this look convincing, and I know how bloody mental you are about these sorts of things so I thought it'd help for you go to over it again."

"Oh." That was actually quite considerate of Ron. She shouldn't have been so quick to doubt him. "Sorry." She raised her hand full of candy tantalizingly. "Nougat?"

As she had hoped, he laughed. "I'll pass. Tell me the plan."

Hermione instantly began listing each phase of the plan in a very quiet voice. "We find hairs for Harry. He turns into someone else. We go down the respective staircases. We go to the first floor..."

"Morning, Mafalda." There was a very deliberate pause. "Reginald."

This was it. Ron hardly had time to give the world's fastest wink before turning to the Ministry employee standing next to them. "Good morn--blimey!"

The dark, curly-haired wizard, who had to be at least twice as tall as small and stout Reg Cattermole, looked thoroughly amused by Ron's obvious shock. He chuckled rather cruelly. "What a nice greeting, Reginald," he said, punctuating Cattermole's name bitingly. He smirked at Ron, ignoring Hermione completely. "Good morning, isn't it?"

"Er--yes?" Ron answered uneasily.

The tall wizard looked at the sky and pretended to examine it with the utmost scrutiny. "I think so too." He returned his attention to Ron and his smirk grew even wider at Ron's obvious anxiety. It was as though he got off on seeing Ron squirm. "I think so too."

"Yes, well, I think so too," Hermione piped in breathlessly, thrusting the candy farther out so he couldn't miss it. "Reg and I were just discussing how lovely this sunshine is, weren't we, Reg?"

"Huh--oh, yeah, we were." Ron boldly grabbed one of the Nosebleed Nougats and actually popped it into his mouth. Hermione squirmed and had to bite her lip to keep from shouting in protest, reminding herself that Ron knew what he was doing. He began to chew. "Yum."

Their quarry had regained his good humor. "Sweets won't save you down there, Reg."

"I know--" Ron had unconsciously began to mimic the man's sarcastic speaking pattern, but cut himself off as he realized that he still had no idea what the wizard's name was. He reached for another candy although he was still chewing the first one. "But it couldn't hurt."

Hermione knew that was her cue and moved her hand towards him in a silent invitation. She held her breath as he examined the nougat curiously. Ron watched them innocently without a single trace of blood running from his nostrils; Hermione couldn't help becoming very confused. Ron should have had a nosebleed by now--something could be wrong with the candy.

The bearded wizard snatched two of the largest pieces and shoved them into his mouth. "Might want to try chocolate next time, Reginald," he suggested with a snicker before trying to continue his way towards the entrance.

That was when his nose erupted like a bloody geyser, causing him to double over with a shout. Ron seized the opportunity to spit out the piece he had held in his mouth. Hermione had to push down a gasp as she realized what had just happened; the candy would only have its potent effects if you swallowed it. You could chew on it from dusk until dawn, but as long as you never swallowed it, you would never get a nosebleed.

There was unfortunately no time to dwell on Ron's genius. "Oh dear!" Hermione feigned concern as she stooped over the afflicted wizard to wrench out some his black curly hair. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know," the wizard barked, cupping his hand over his nose to contain the blood. "Fix it!"

Hermione extracted her wand, keeping her hand with the hairs safely behind her back, and tried a few feeble spells that she knew wouldn't work; Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes were legendary for being absolutely foolproof. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to do, you better go to St. Mungo's."

"Look," he sneered threateningly at Hermione, but he stopped when his eyes found Ron standing a few feet away, hurrying off other concerned Ministry workers, holding Hermione's purse that she had dropped in her haste to help. "You!"

Ron turned white; this wizard was really tall. "Sorry?"

"You did this! For today! You!" He tried to straighten up to his full-height, but another gush of blood prevented him from going anywhere. Instead, he grabbed Hermione's arm to support himself. Hermione tried to twist free of his grip; his fingers were far too close to his stolen hairs concealed in her palm. "There is something in it!" he insisted.

"What's going on here?" The kindly-looking witch that Hermione had stolen the newspaper from had paused to watch the whole scene with disgust. "You better go to hospital," she advised her coworker, obviously repulsed by his present state. "I will inform your department that you will be late."

The wizard lifted his arm from Hermione's to point a shaking finger at Ron. He was losing quarts of blood a second; if he stayed much longer, he'd soon pass out. "If I find out you did this..." A fresh spurt of blood bubbled out of his nose and he had to Disapparate before finishing that threat.

"Well, I'm scared," Ron said wryly as he held out Hermione's purse for her which she took gratefully. She gave him quick nod to let him know that she had the hairs.

"You should be, Reg," The woman who had stopped said gravely. She gave Ron a sympathetic look. "Good luck today."

"Thanks." Ron waited until she had descended her staircase before striding back towards the alley where Harry was waiting. "Why do I have the feeling," he said out of the corner of his mouth, "that I'm supposed to be somewhere really important?"

Hermione nodded grimly. Reg Cattermole had been very anxious to get to work, so anxious that he was willing to be vomiting nonstop all the way to the office. This latest wizard seemed to think Cattermole was willing to poison him in order to delay today's proceedings. And they had both caught the chocolate reference; it seemed that Reg was expected somewhere very important: he was expected someplace with dementors. Hermione stopped and looked around them hopefully. "Maybe there's someone else you could change into."

"There's no time," Ron disagreed as he grabbed his arm to propel her along. You couldn't take a dose of Polyjuice on top of a dose of Polyjuice without severe consequences; he would have to wait until he changed back into himself before assuming another identity, which wouldn't be for another fifty minutes. "And don't tell me to stay behind," he ordered her before Hermione could make that very suggestion. "If I stick with you two and keep my head down, maybe no one'll notice me. And don't tell Harry. Did you get his badge?"

Hermione shook her head disappointedly. "There wasn't time and that lady was watching..." It was going to make things a bit trickier for Harry if he didn't know the name of the wizard he was impersonating.

Ron swore but still patted her on the shoulder to assure her that she had performed admirably. "As long as you got the hairs, we'll be all right."

They returned to the alley to find Harry waiting impatiently underneath the Cloak. "We don't know who he is," Hermione said, passing Harry several curly black hairs, "but he's gone home with a dreadful nosebleed! Here, he's pretty tall, you'll need bigger robes..."

She pulled out a set of the old robes Kreacher had laundered for them, and Harry retired to take the potion and change. As they ducked behind the bin to wait, Hermione commented, "That was a neat trick you pulled. Eating the candy and not swallowing."

Ron gave her a half-smile. "That's what I did with McLaggen," he informed her proudly. "So he'd eat the Dark Mark candy and not think anything about it. Thought it might work today."

"Oh." It would be dreadfully rude to snicker at McLaggen's plight, even though it had happened months ago, but Hermione still covered her mouth to smirk nevertheless. That pig certainly had deserved it.

A large, ominous shadow crossed over them, causing the two of them jump and whip around to find the massive, curly-haired wizard standing before them. "Blimey, that's scary," said Ron, looking up at Harry, who for once was twice as tall as him. The real wizard, whoever he was, had kept a safe distance between himself and Ron so Ron hadn't realized just how tall he actually was.

"Take one of Mafalda's tokens," Hermione told Harry, "and let's go, it's nearly nine."

Hermione followed her friends out of the alley, alternating between reciting the plan once again and telling herself to relax, that everything would be all right, they had this all planned out, and as long as nothing went wrong, everything would be just fine. Everything would be fine...

"See you in a moment, then," said Hermione nervously and she tottered off down the steps to 'LADIES'. This was where the plan start getting a bit more haphazard; they had no idea how these bathrooms connected them to the Ministry and it hadn't been safe for them to try to find out under the Cloak. She would have to just follow everyone else's lead and hope for the best. She found herself in a black-and-white tiled underground toilet, as expected, but the few witches that were there went straight into the cubicle, flushed, and never emerged.

Hermione found a cubicle of her own and closed the door so she could inspect the territory. A glance at the toilet told her immediately that magic had been placed on it; the water had been made to be impermeable. On a whim, Hermione ignored every warning her mother had ever given her and stuck a finger into the toilet water. Not a drop of water stuck to her skin, confirming her suspicions. She placed a hand on the wall so she could step into the toilet, pulled the chain, and slid gracelessly out into a Ministry of Magic fireplace.

She rose to dust herself off and gazed around the much-altered Atrium. No longer were there the golden fountains casting gorgeous light all over the space. Now there was a statue in black stone of a witch and wizard sitting on their respective thrones with the words MAGIC IS MIGHT engraved in large letters on the base. Hermione approached it so she could make out the carvings on the thrones; her stomach promptly overturned and she had to clap a hand over her mouth at the sight of the thousands of naked Muggles in their rightful place. This was sick.

"Hey, you all--" Ron trailed off as he too realized what Hermione was looking at. "That's sick," he said, eerily echoing Hermione's thoughts.

"I know." She turned to suggest they get going, but froze when she realized that Ron was the only one there. "Where's Harry?"

"I dunno--oh wait, there he is." Ron pointed to the massive man who has just tumbled out of the fireplace. Hermione impatiently yanked his hand down and pulled him behind the statue so no one could see them indicating Harry. After getting Harry's attention and making sure that he was safe, the three of them hurried to the queue for the lifts, glancing all around for a sign of Umbridge. If they didn't find her here, the plan was just to head straight to her office, searching for the locket while they waited for her to return.

"Cattermole!"

Hermione's heart lurched. An elegantly dressed wizard, very possibly a Death Eater, was striding towards them with a fierce scowl, eyes only on Ron. She knew they should have somehow found a way for Ron to impersonate someone else; they had known Cattermole was expected somewhere rather dangerous and important and now Ron was about to be dragged off there. Everyone else around them shifted uncomfortably and looked away, lapsing into silence. Someone in the crowd called sycophantically, "Morning, Yaxley!" Hermione's heart gave another pained lurch; this definitely was a Death Eater. Ron was doomed.

"I requested somebody from Magical Maintenance to sort out my office, Cattermole. It's still raining in there."

Ron looked about him for help, but Harry and Hermione had to keep their mouths shut to avoid suspicion themselves. If Ron was taken, they were his only hope for rescue. "Raining...in your office?" Ron repeated hesitantly. Even in a different body, he sounded as though he had been asked a question by Snape that he had no hope of answering correctly. "That's--that's not good is it?"

He gave a laugh, trying to lighten the mood as always, but Yaxley widened his eyes and stepped forward threateningly. As one, Hermione and Harry's hands went to their wands. "You think it's funny, Cattermole, do you?"

Harry took a discreet step to the side to have a clear shot at Yaxley while a pair of witches broke away from the queue for the life and bustled off. Cowards, Hermione thought spitefully at them. Ron's eyes found her, terrified, and Hermione could only stare back, frozen in helplessness. "No," said Ron, "no, of course--"

"You realize that I am on my way downstairs to interrogate your wife, Cattermole? In fact, I'm quite surprised you're not down there holding her hand while she waits. Already given her up as a bad job, have you? Probably wise. Be sure and marry a pureblood next time."

A squeak of horror shot out of her mouth before she could stop it. That was why Cattermole had been so desperate to get inside the Ministry. His wife was sitting in the basement, alone and terrified, awaiting an undoubtedly horrible interrogation process, and the three of them had prevented the one person she needed the most from reaching her. They shouldn't have picked Reg Cattermole; they were awful, awful people--

Yaxley was looking at her suspiciously so Hermione quickly coughed and turned away to hide the panic in her face. She closed her eyes to collect herself and forced herself to begin hypothesizing different ways to prevent Yaxley's office from raining. If Ron could manage to set things right, they may be able to avoid a catastrophe. "I--I--" stammered Ron from behind her.

"But if my wife were accused of being a Mudblood," said Yaxley, "--not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth--and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needed a job doing, I would make it my priority to do that job, Cattermole. Do you understand me? "

"Yes," whispered Ron.

"Then attend to it, Cattermole, and if my office is not completely dry within an hour, your wife's Blood Status will be in even graver doubt than it is now."

A clank of the grille jarred everyone's attention. Yaxley strode towards a lift after giving Harry an approving nod and smile. Harry returned it before poking Hermione hard to get her moving. The three of them hurried into their lift and to their relief, no one followed, wanting to keep their distance from their recently berated coworker.

As soon as the grille closed, ensuring a moment of privacy, Ron appealed to his friends, stricken. "What am I going to do? If I don't turn up, my wife--I mean, Cattermole's wife--"

"We'll come with you, we should stick together--" began Harry, of course instantly agreeing to put their mission aside to help another.

Ron cut him off with a firm shake of the head. "That's mental, we haven't got much time. You two find Umbridge, I'll go and sort out Yaxley's office--" his eyes went straight to Hermione, "--but how do I stop it raining?"

"Try Finite Incantatem," said Hermione at once, "that should stop the rain if it's a hex or curse; if it doesn't, something's gone wrong with an Atmospheric Charm, which will be more difficult to fix, so as an interim measure try Impervius to protect his belongings--"

"Say it again, slowly--" said Ron, searching his pockets desperately for a quill, but at that moment the lift juddered to a halt. A disembodied female voice said, "Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau," and the grilles slid open again, admitting a couple of wizards and several pale violet paper airplanes that fluttered around the lamp in the ceiling of the lift.

One of the wizards was speaking to Harry so Hermione grabbed Ron's arm so they could occupy a corner of the lift and whispered frantically, "Try Finite Incantatem first. If that doesn't work, put Impervius on his things before going on, because it's going to get tricky. You've done both those spells before, you can do them again. Then you're going to have to try Atmospheric Charms--"

"Don't tell me what they are; tell me the incantations!" Ron hissed desperately at her.

"Precipitas Finite, Cumulus Rev--" Hermione started to chant, but there was no more time. The grilles had opened, announcing they had arrived at Level Two, where Yaxley's office was. She gave him a little push to get him going and Ron hurried out of the lift, followed by the other wizards. As the doors began to close, she could see Ron's shoulders begin to shake. He never did well under pressure. That decided it for Hermione. As soon as the grille closed, Hermione turned to Harry. "Actually, Harry, I think I'd better go after him, I don't think he knows what he's doing and if he gets caught the whole thing--"

The golden grilles slid apart again and the rest of Hermione's sentence was cut off with a gasp. Now was really not the time to find Dolores Umbridge chatting with the newly-appointed and Voldemort-approved Minister of Magic. Umbridge gazed at Hermione and for the first time ever, looked pleased to see her. "Ah, Mafalda! Travers sent you, did he?"

"Y-yes," squeaked Hermione even though she had a feeling that she really didn't want to be sent by Travers to do anything.

"Good, you'll do perfectly well." Umbridge turned back to the Minister. "That's that problem solved, Minister, if Mafalda can be spared for record-keeping, we shall be able to start straightaway." She consulted her clipboard. "Ten people today and one of them the wife of a Ministry employee! Tut, tut...even here, in the heart of the Ministry!" She stepped into the lift; Hermione numbly moved to the side to allow the other two wizards room to enter. She could hardly feel her legs anymore. "We'll go straight down, Mafalda, you'll find everything you need in the courtroom. Good morning, Albert, aren't you getting out?"

"Yes, of course," Harry said as he stepped out of the lift to stand beside the Minister. The lift doors clanged shut, sealing her fate. She felt rather light-headed as the lift dropped. She was about to help imprison innocent people all because someone deemed them to be unworthy of magic due to their bloodline.

But if Hermione had thought she felt ill in the lift, that was an afternoon in Hogsmeade compared to the icy feeling that engulfed her as they walked down the corridor to the courtrooms. She actually had to stop to take a hold of the wall to regain control of herself; she had thought for a moment that she was either going to faint or throw up or perhaps both. She never did well around dementors; third-year certainly had been a testament to that. It also didn't help that several Muggle-borns were huddled on benches ahead of her, pleadingly staring at her to do something to help them get out of this mess. Hermione closed eyes. I can't...

Umbridge had been about to waddle into the courtroom, but she stopped when she saw Hermione's plight. "Oh, Mafalda," Umbridge said with a chuckle. She took a hold of Hermione's arm companionably as if they were the best of friends; Hermione had rather wished the foul toad had just slapped her. "You are a sensitive one, aren't you?"

"Just a bit," Hermione answered weakly.

Umbridge coyly extracted her wand and swished it with the highest of confidence. "Expecto Patronum!" A big, fat, long-haired cat sprang up in front of them and cleared a path so Umbridge, Yaxley, and Hermione could pass the dementors undisturbed. Hermione couldn't help being a bit jealous; she had never been able to produce a Patronus with so much ease. Of course, Umbridge was practically dancing on air at the prospect of interrogating defenseless Muggle-borns. If she had a choice, Hermione would rather be a good person who couldn't produce a Patronus rather than someone like Umbridge who could perform the complicated spell at will.

A brave man stood up to their block their path, leaving his trembling wife on the bench who whispered at him to leave it alone. "Senior Undersecretary, please, I'm begging you--"

Yaxley, who had met them at the lift, was already cutting him down with a slash of his wand. The woman screamed and threw herself onto her knees to try to revive him. "I don't speak to beggars," Umbridge said sweetly to the unconscious man. Umbridge turned to consider the other shocked and horrified people occupy the benches. "I hope you remember that when you are called. Be truthful and all will be well. We will begin in a moment."

Hermione followed them into the small, slightly claustrophobic courtroom. She was still having difficult walking and it had nothing to do with the dementors that had followed them into the room to take their positions in the corners. She could scarcely believe this was really happening, that people were actually allowing this to happen to their world, which had once been the most wondrous place Hermione had ever seen. When she had found out she was a witch, she had spent hours imagining just how remarkable the magical world will be, but reality for once had exceeded her highest expectations. Magic in real life was even better than magic in books and fairy tales. She had felt so incredibly lucky to be a part of this extraordinary place, but now, in the midst of all of this cruelty, Hermione couldn't even remember what Diagon Alley had looked like the first moment she had passed through the brick wall. All she could remember was the hatred and fear. For a wild moment, Hermione rather wished she was still an ignorant Muggle; she may not know anything, but at least she wouldn't have to suffer like this.

But that moment quickly passed as Umbridge gave her a nauseatingly-sweet smile and asked if she was feeling better. She had to suffer like this, but just for a little while. It was the only way they could make things right again. Hermione nodded stoutly.

"Lovely," Umbridge cooed. Her gaze faltered as she realized that Hermione was staring at her neck. She brought up a small hand to cover her collar. "Whatever are you looking at, Mafalda?"

"Nothing." Umbridge's collar was so high and ruffled that there was no hope of being able to see a necklace from here. She would have to find a way to take a closer look.

Umbridge gave an uncomfortable trill of nervous laughter as she showed Hermione a vacant chair with parchment, quills, ink, and a stack of files next to it. "That will be your seat, Mafalda. I know you haven't record-kept for us before, but you shall pick it up. Everything you need is right there for you."

"Thank you," Hermione said as she dropped into the chair with relief. She set a blank sheet of parchment on a clipboard of her own and set it on her lap. She opened the bottle of ink and gave Umbridge a short nod to indicate she was as ready as she ever would be.

Umbridge practically jumped up and down in glee. If she didn't have her precious clipboard in her pudgy hand, she probably would have clapped her hands as well. "Well, let's begin, shall we?"

She tapped her wand at her throat to magically amplify it while Yaxley took his seat on the other side of her. He leaned across her empty chair so he could speak to Hermione, eying her suspiciously. "Did I see you with Reginald Cattermole this morning?"

Hermione's eyes darted to Umbridge's back to ensure that Umbridge hadn't overheard that question, but Umbridge was too involved with calling in her first victim to pay any attention to them. "I saw him at the lift, but I wouldn't say I was with him. We said good morning and the sort, but that was all," Hermione lied nervously. She had never been a very good liar; why couldn't she have asked the twins to teach her a thing or two before they left?

To her amazement, Yaxley gave her a somewhat pitying look. "Do not let him sweet-talk you, Mafalda," he warned in a low growl. "I saw the way you looked at him. His wife is a Mudblood; she must be punished."

"Oh," was all Hermione had time to squeak out before the first Muggle-born entered the room, silencing all conversation. A youthful wizard walked rigid-legged into the chamber, wincing as though every step brought him extreme agony. He practically fell into the chair at the center of the floor. Hermione jumped with him as chains clinked out of the arms and bound him in place.

Umbridge consulted her clipboard. "You are Alphabard Bilius Alderton?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut; don't be named Bilius, please don't be named Bilius. That was just too cruel for words.

"Yes," the man confirmed in a quavering voice. "Madame Undersecretary, I think there's been a mistake--"

"Did you just interrupt Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the great Minister of Magic himself, and the Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission," Yaxley inquired in a dangerously silky voice. He reminded Hermione strongly of Lucius Malfoy.

Alphabard bowed his head. "No, of course not."

Yaxley leaned back in his comfortable seat. "I didn't think so, Mudblood." He nodded to Umbridge. "Continue, if you please."

"Thank you, Yaxley. You are unmarried, correct?"

"Correct." He smiled weakly and tried to wink. "Still looking for the right girl."

Yaxley reacted just as quickly as he had when Ron had made his ill-timed joke. "Do you find this funny?"

"No, no, I..." Alphabard lowered his head again. Hermione bit her lip in utter sympathy; he really did remind her of Ron. "Just trying to make the best of this, Madame."

"If you would like to find a way to make the best of this," Umbridge cooed with a simpering smirk, "try a bit of honesty." She returned to her clipboard. "You currently are a junior assistant for the Head of the Department of International Relations, is that correct?"

"Yes."

Umbridge's eyes flicked over to Yaxley for a mere second. She discarded the clipboard to give the accused her full attention. "And, please, Mr. Alderton, tell us why you lied on the Ministry questionnaire that you submitted last week for examination?"

Alphabard's head shot up. "Wh-what? I didn't l-l-lie."

"Mafalda, his questionnaire." It took Hermione a minute to remember who she was and she quickly dove for the file on the chair next to her to extract the requested sheet of parchment. She handed it off to Umbridge who was frowning at the blank sheet of parchment in Hermione's lap. "Mafalda, you're supposed to be recording these proceedings."

"Oh! Yes, sorry," Hermione hastily picked up her quill and scribbled what had happened thus far. Fortunately, she had a nearly perfect memory so she was able to catch up rather quickly. Yaxley gave her another suspicious look but soon returned his attention to the interrogation.

"It says here that you claim that your father is Arkie Alderton, a pureblood wizard, is that correct?"

"Yes, yes!" Alphabard said with a vigorous nod of his head. "That's correct! My father is a wizard! I am a half-blood!"

Umbridge exchanged a sadistic chuckle with Yaxley. "Mr. Alderton--or should I say, Mudblood--we have investigated your claim and discovered your story to be completely false."

"What?" Alphabard exclaimed. "How--why--but I didn't--I'm half-blood, I swear to you!"

"Do you?" Yaxley grunted. He pushed himself out of his chair, gripping the armrests so tightly that the chair rattled. "Do you swear to us, you lying filthy piece of--"

"Yaxley, dear," Umbridge trilled, stopping the furious Death Eater with a little wave of her hand. Yaxley slumped in his chair, aching to hurt the man on the chair before them. Hermione had to fight the inane urge to laugh; Umbridge and Yaxley were actually playing good cop, bad cop: a Muggle police tactic. She suddenly really wanted to point out that fact to them, but she had a feeling that if she did, Umbridge wouldn't stop Yaxley from punching her square in the face.

Obviously petrified by the display in temper, Alphabard did his best to pacify the situation. He appealed to Umbridge, fighting to remain very calm. "Why do you think it's false?"

"That is not your concern," Umbridge said coldly.

"But, yes, it is! I mean, I mean--" he hastened to change his response as Yaxley's chair shook with suppressed fury once again, "--I don't understand how that could have happened."

"What happened is that you lied," Umbridge hissed spitefully. She smiled benignly at her prey. Her expression was similar to the one Crookshanks wore whenever he was about to pounce on a spider. "Isn't that true?"

"No!"

Umbridge raised her eyebrows at the display of courage. "I warn you, Mudblood," she told him while waving her hand to indicate the dementors flanking the walls. "If you do not cooperate, I shall be forced to subject you to the Dementor's Kiss. Now you wouldn't want that, would you?"

He shook his head miserably. "Good boy," Umbridge crooned hatefully. She passed back the questionnaire to Hermione; Hermione took a moment to scan it, her quick eye quickly catching on a glaring mistake. She opened her mouth to report it, but Yaxley gave such a curt shake of his head that Hermione kept quiet. Hermione set the paper aside, shaking with rage. She suddenly realized that it wasn't a mistake.

Alphabard shook his head back and forth as he tried to sort all of this out. "This is impossible--how could this have happened--I'm a half-blood--did you talk to my mother?"

Umbridge shuddered at the thought. "Talk to a Muggle? Indeed no! What would she know?"

"She'd know who I am!" Alphabard shouted, momentarily furious. Sensing his dissent, the dementors slid threateningly forward, poised to pounce at a second's notice. Umbridge raised her hand to halt them, but she raised her eyebrows again to silently remind the victim that this was his second warning. Alphabard slumped down into the chair. If not for the chains binding him in place, Hermione thought he would have slid straight to the floor in a dead faint. "It's just a mistake," he mumbled. The color was starting to drain out of his face with frightening speed; he wouldn't last much longer.

"A mistake?" Umbridge asked, her voice crisp and sharp. "What was a mistake, Mr. Alderton? Your decision to steal a wand? Or your attempts to cover up your theft by lying on your questionnaire?" She scanned the document again. "You claim that your father is a wizard and very conveniently deceased so he can not corroborate your claim, very convenient indeed."

"No, no, please, I beg you--"

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. If she could get Alphabard off on a technicality, maybe something good could come out of this awful morning. "Dolores," she said very quietly. "I--"

Yaxley was already at her chair and kneeling down next to her. Umbridge returned her attention to Alphabard. "What seems to be the problem, Mafalda?" he asked quietly. It didn't escape Hermione's notice that he had his wand trained on her.

She pointed to a blank section of the form: the line that the Minister of Magic was supposed to sign to authorize the arrest of the individual. "The Minister hasn't signed this; he might not have even seen this; we shouldn't have arrested him. Magical law states--"

Yaxley jabbed his wand at the bottom of the page so a perfect imitation of the Pius Thicknesse's signature appeared on the formerly blank box. Hermione's eyes popped at the blatant forgery as she realized what was happening. Alphabard Alderton really was a half-blood. Someone probably wanted his job or something and had doctored the claim to ensure that Alphabard would be arrested. This was beyond sick; not only were they torturing Muggle-borns, but they were turning on anyone else who got in their way as well. Alphabard wasn't a member of the Order of the Phoenix or a resistance fighter; he was probably just an ordinary wizard, doing his best to get through the day just like everyone else. But just because he had made one mistake or upset one person, his life was about to be completely shattered. It was the most inhuman, unjust thing Hermione had ever witnessed in her entire life.

The activist in Hermione spurned for her to speak up against the travesty of justice, but Yaxley poked his wand a little closer to Hermione's hip. "Do we need to check your family tree again, Mafalda?" he threatened very deliberately.

The Gryffindor side of Hermione longed to look him dead in the eye, spit in his face, and answer with a defiant 'yes.' However, Gryffindors often risked their own lives, but they never ever, if they could help it, put the lives of others in jeopardy. Hermione Granger could demand they investigate her all they wanted, but she couldn't have them investigate Mafalda Hopkirk. It wouldn't be fair. She shook her head and Yaxley returned to his seat with a self-satisfied smirk. Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment in hopes of blocking out the rest of the interrogation; she wasn't sure how much of this she could take.

"You mustn't tell lies, Mudblood! You are what you are--a piece of filth--isn't that the truth?!"

"No, please, it isn't, it was a mistake, please--"

Umbridge held up her hand, poised to summon the dementors. "Last chance, Mudblood."

"Please!"

She sighed as though this was costing her great pain although Hermione had never seen her former professor so aroused. "Well then. I believe you've earned yourself a nice long turn in Azkaban."

"No!" Alphabard screamed. Umbridge beckoned to the dementors and opened the door with the flash of her wand. Alphabard's screams continued to cut through Hermione's heart. "No, no, I'm half-blood, I'm half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he was, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he's a well-known broomstick designer, look him up, I tell you--" The dementor's scabby fingers enclosed around his arms, reviving the doomed man. He suddenly began fighting like the wildest of chimeras. "Get your hands off me, get your hands off--"

Yaxley was on his feet, ready to kill the man if necessary, but Umbridge calmly held up her hand. Her Patronus, which had been patrolling protectively in front of the barrier separating them from the accused, swelled a bit in triumph. "This is your final warning," she said, savoring every word. "If you struggle, you will be subjected to the Dementor's Kiss." Alphabard slumped helplessly in his captor's grip, his dry sobs echoing throughout the room. He had given up and accepted his fate. Umbridge nodded to the dementors. "Take him away."

Hermione managed to make it look as though she was smoothing her hair when she was really wiping away some tears. I'm so sorry, she apologized profusely to him. She had tried to help him, but had only managed to rouse Yaxley's suspicion about Mafalda. Hermione snuck a glance at her watch, promptly pumping up her panic to immeasurable heights. In twenty minutes, they were going to have another very good reason to suspect her: she would be Hermione Granger again in a mere twenty minutes. Hermione bit her lip hard. Umbridge had said they had ten people to interrogate; there was no way they were going to be able to finish in twenty minutes. She needed to find a way to leave the room, track down Ron and Harry, and exit the Ministry all in twenty minutes. Hermione squirmed in her seat; she knew they should have waited longer before going ahead with this mission.

"You are Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?"

Hermione fought a squeak as the small woman now chained to the chair nodded. This was Ron's wife--well, Reginald Cattermole's wife. She straightened up slightly and forgot all about her concerns about escaping within the time constraints. It was her fault that this woman was facing this all alone; she had to do whatever she could to help her.

"Married to Reginald Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Department?"

Mrs. Cattermole burst into tears. "I don't know where he is, he was supposed to meet me here!"

Hermione glanced towards the door, wondering if there was some way that she could summon Ron to this spot right now. She had a feeling he could pretend to be a heartsick and supportive husband very well. She was staring to realize why Ron had been so dead-set on teaching her his family tree.

"Mother to Maisie, Ellie, and Alfred Cattermole?"

Hermione's heart twinged at the realization that they had children. Mrs. Cattermole was sobbing harder than ever. "They're frightened, they think I might not come home--"

"Spare us," spat Yaxley. "The brats of Mudbloods do not stir our sympathies."

Hermione swore under her breath as she realized that once again that she had forgotten to write all of this down. She bent over the parchment to catch up; fortunately, Umbridge had taken a pause in hopes that Mrs. Cattermole's sobs would soften. When it became evident that Mrs. Cattermole wasn't stopping anytime soon, Umbridge raised her voice to continue.

But Hermione couldn't hear what happened next, because a sudden gush of breath was on her ear and a deep baritone was growling to her, "I'm behind you."

She jumped so violently she nearly overturned the bottle of ink with which she was supposed to be recording the interview, but both Umbridge and Yaxley were concentrating upon Mrs. Cattermole, and this went unnoticed. Hermione caught the bottle and moved it to a more secure location. She had a feeling now that Harry was here, she was going to have to be springing to her feet and fighting to death sometime in the very near future.

Umbridge was asking about Mrs. Cattermole's wand; Hermione watched her very carefully while tilting her head behind her so Harry could give her instructions of what to do next. Ron clearly wasn't with him so she wasn't sure if Harry wanted to abort the plan, find Ron, and flee, or if he had already found the locket in Umbridge's office, or if he needed to see if the loathsome gargoyle had it around her neck.

That answer was quickly given to her as Umbridge laughed a soft girlish laugh and leaned forward over the barrier, the better to observe her victim, and something gold swung forward too, and dangled over the void: the locket.

Hermione let out another telltale squeak and clapped a hand over her mouth, but Umbridge and Yaxley, still intent upon their prey, were deaf to everything else. They really should learn to improve their powers of observation. She could practically feel Harry behind her springing to attack, his heart racing. This was it. This was what they had risked their lives for and they weren't leaving the room without it, otherwise all of this would be for nothing.

Umbridge was holding out her hand for another questionnaire; Hermione had been so intent on the locket she hadn't even heard her ask for it. She fumbled in the pile of documents for the proper one and held it out to her. "That's--that's pretty, Dolores," she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge's blouse.

"What?" snapped Umbridge, glancing down. "Oh yes--an old family heirloom," she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom. "The S stands for Selwyn...I am related to the Selwyns...Indeed there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related....A pity," she continued in a louder voice, flicking through Mrs. Cattermole's questionnaire, "that the same cannot be said for you. 'Parents' professions: greengrocers.'"

Yaxley laughed jeeringly. Hermione held her breath as she stared only at the locket. There had to be a way that she could sneak it out of here. A quick Severing Charm could cut the chain and Summoning charm would call it to her awaiting hand. Maybe she could wait until Umbridge was leaning over another victim and quickly perform both spells. Yaxley had been keeping an eye on her, but now that she wasn't causing any more problems, maybe he wouldn't--

"Stupefy!"

Umbridge crumpled. Hermione jumped to her feet, heart pounding. Or Harry could just do that.

Harry was already Stunning Yaxley, so Hermione turned her attention to Mrs. Cattermole who was struggling furiously to get out of the chair as the swarm of dementors closed in on her, sensing that trouble was brewing and it had to be all this woman's fault. "Harry!"

"Hermione, if you think I was going to sit here and let her pretend--"

Hermione rolled her eyes; honestly. She wasn't eleven anymore; she didn't have a heart attack and give a lengthy lecture every single time Harry or Ron broke a rule. "Harry, Mrs. Cattermole!"

Harry whirled around and threw off the Invisibility Cloak. Hermione jumped again. She had quite forgotten that he was still disguised as the massive curly-haired Death Eater. With the confidence and bravery that Harry Potter could possess, he stabbed his wand towards the dementors. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The silver stag soared from the tip of Harry's wand and leaped towards the dementors, filling the room with hot, comforting light. Hermione felt herself begin to breathe properly for the first time. Nothing could go wrong with Harry and his Patronus here.

"Get the Horcrux," Harry told Hermione as he started down the steps to tend to Mrs. Cattermole. Hermione dropped down next to her repulsive former-teacher and quickly unclasped the locket from around her neck. The gold was disturbingly cold, almost slimy. Impulsively, Hermione shoved it into her pocket so she wouldn't have to touch it longer than absolutely necessary. She started to get up to join Harry, but frowned when she saw Umbridge's empty neck. Umbridge couldn't know that her locket had been stolen; suspicion would be aroused if word got around that someone had Stunned Dolores Umbridge in the midst of an interrogation and stolen her locket. It would get back to Voldemort, she was sure of it.

There was only one thing to do. She hated it with all of her heart, but Hermione unclasped the locket around her own neck, the locket her parents had given her for her sixteenth birthday, that Granger women had been wearing for generations, and held it in her hand, envisioning the gold locket in her pocket, and pointed her wand at it.

"Hermione, how do I get rid of these chains?" Harry called to her, interrupting her concentration.

"Wait, I'm trying something up here--"

"Hermione, we're surrounded by dementors!"

"I know that, Harry, but if she wakes up and the locket's gone--I need to duplicate it--" I'm sorry, she thought at her parents in Australia before twisting her wand expertly, "--Geminio! There...That should fool her..."

She placed the locket around Umbridge's neck, despising that a Granger heirloom was touching Umbridge's skin, and joined Harry downstairs. He stepped out of the way so she could examine the chains. "Let's see...Relashio!"

Mrs. Cattermole looked more frightened than ever, but Harry set her on her feet, speaking to her in a fast, clipped tone. Even though his voice was completely different, he was so very Harry in that moment that Mrs. Cattermole couldn't help calming down a little. Harry had that effect on people. Hermione kept her wand up, eyes darting all around them at the dementors being held at bay by the stag. Harry's stag was the strongest display of magic she had ever seen, but she wasn't sure it was powerful enough to take on all of those dementors in the hallway. "Harry, how are we going to get out of here with all those dementors outside the door?"

"Patrnouses," said Harry as he led his stag over to the door. "As many as we can muster; do yours, Hermione."

Merlin's pants. Hermione cringed at her silent use of language; Ron really was having a horrible effect on her. "Expec--Expecto Patronum."

Nothing happened. Harry turned to Mrs. Cattermole, voicing Hermione's thoughts aloud, "It's the only spell she ever has trouble with. Bit unfortunate, really...Come on Hermione..."

She closed her eyes fleetingly to concentrate. Harry needed her...Harry...Harry and Ron...her best friends...her best friends in the entire world...Harry and Ron laughing with her at Bill and Fleur's wedding, where she had been laughing so hard that she need to grab Ron's arm to keep herself upright...where she had never been so happy...

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silver otter exploded out of her wand and swam to join the stag. "C'mon," said Harry as he led the way out the door. They managed to round up the other accused Muggle-borns and clamber up the stairs without difficulty. Hermione was trying how on earth they were going to be able to find Ron in all of this mess, when the lift doors clanged open and he appeared like a dream.

"Reg!" screamed Mrs. Cattermole, and she threw herself into Ron's arms. Hermione had rather been hoping to do that herself so she had to deal with a completely unjustified and ridiculous burst of jealousy. "Runcorn let me out, he attacked Umbridge and Yaxley, and he's told all of us to leave the country, I think we'd better do it, Reg, I really do, let's hurry home and fetch the children and--why are you so wet?"

"Water," muttered Ron, disengaging himself. His eyes were fastened to Harry, making Hermione's jump. She knew this look: this was the we-may-or-may-not-be-doomed look. "Harry, they know there are intruders inside the Ministry, something about a hole in Umbridge's office door, I reckon we've got five minutes if that--"

Hermione's Patronus vanished with a pop as she turned a horror-struck face to Harry. At least that was one less being to hide. "Harry, if we're trapped here--!"

"We won't be if we move fast," said Harry. With the same command as he had exhibited with Dumbledore's Army, Harry got them all into lifts with his stag standing guard and shepherded them through the Atrium. Hermione thought they were done for when she saw that they were already sealing the exits, but thank goodness Harry was impersonating a Death Eater; he managed to convince one of the wizards to let them go and all of the Muggle-borns scurried to escape so they could safely flee the country and attempt to resume normal lives. Jumping impatiently on the balls of her feet, Hermione glanced behind them, half-expecting Yaxley or something to be charging out of the lift at any moment. They had almost made it--only Ron and Mrs. Cattermole were left now--

"Mary!"

The real Reg Cattermole, no longer vomiting but pale and wan, had just come running out of a lift.

"R-Reg?"

No one would ever know it, but Hermione swore just as vulgarly as Ron did.

The wizard Harry had tricked was gaping back and forth between Ron and Reg, mouth bubbling for words; if the situation hadn't been so horrifying, it would have been a rather amusing image. "Hey--what's going on? What is this?"

"Seal the exit! SEAL IT!"

And there was Yaxley, just as she had feared. With his Seeker-reflexes, Harry slugged the balding wizard before he could seal the fireplace. Thanks to Harry's size, the wizard actually flew in the air, blocking Yaxley's path. "He's been helping Muggle-borns escape, Yaxley!"

The balding wizard's colleagues set up an uproar, providing for the perfect distraction. Hermione turned to Ron, but as always, he was already on it. He grabbed Mrs. Cattermole, pulled her into the still-open fireplace, and disappeared. She wheeled back around to yank Harry away, but stopped when she saw Yaxley hesitate, uncertain who to believe. It would be loads better if they could manage to get through this without any more violence.

"My wife! Who was that with my wife? What's going on?"

Yaxley's head turned to Harry; Hermione stifled gasp. There was no way they were getting out of this without further violence. "Come on!" Harry shouted as he seized her hand and jumped into the fireplace, a curse sailing over Harry's head. In a few seconds, they were shooting up into a cubicle. Ron was still in there, trying to wrestle free from Mrs. Cattermole.

"Reg, I don't understand--"

"Let go, I'm not your husband, you've got to go home!"

Ron turned to ask his friends to back up his story, but there was no time. Hermione could see in the cracked mirror that her hair growing longer and curlier by the second. Harry was shrinking. Ron was shooting up. Mrs. Cattermole was gaping and jibbering in panic. And Yaxley was there, watching it all, figuring everything out, ready to kill.

"LET'S GO!" Harry yelled. He seized Hermione by the hand and Ron by the arm and tur--

Yaxley's hand closed around her like a vise, crushing her circulation and attempting to yank her back to the stone floor of the Ministry. She slid out of Harry's grasp. "No!" she tried to shout, but half of her body was already Disapparating with Harry. Hermione scrunched up her face so she could deliberate with all of her might. Even in the midst of Apparating, Harry seemed to sense that something was wrong and clutched her fingers tighter than ever. But Yaxley was just too strong, and he yanked and yanked as they traveled through the darkness, desperate for his prize...

They were at the front door. There was no time to think. Hermione's wand was out before she fully realized what was happening and the Revulsion Jinx was cast. Yaxley uttered a scream of pain as a flash of purple light knocked him away from Hermione's aching arm. She grabbed Harry's hand again and turned, calling into mind somewhere isolated with fresh air and trees to shield them, glancing over at Ron just fast enough to ensure that he was still in Harry's grip. Yaxley, slightly smoking and obviously hurt, dove towards them again, but Hermione was already gone, taking her best friends with her, never to return to this doorstep ever again.