Azkaban Revisited

Chapter 5

Hermione could feel a sense of oppression as she took a little speedboat back to Azkaban Island. As she got back to the small, dark island, she saw Harry standing at the edge of the main building waiting for her.

She walked over and he hugged her. "I'm glad that the dire predictions were unfounded."

She nodded. "So am I," she said quietly. "And I'm beginning to think that Ron might be right." She gave a wry smile. "I know I don't admit that I'm wrong often, but this may be one of those rare instances. The Minister was terribly evasive." Suddenly, Hermione remembered something and grabbed Harry's arm.

"What?" he asked.

"I just remembered. Do you know who the Minister's wife is?"

"Ron told us the day before yesterday."

Hermione let out a slow breath as they walked into the cottage. The pervasive smell of Azkaban, though diminished during her two months there, had not left. She had simply gotten used to it. "Doesn't that sound like an awful coincidence?"

He nodded. "I suspect that she's somewhere behind all this."

"That's makes two of us." Hermione paused before she walked into the dining room of the cottage. She could hear voices behind the door. "What does Lucius think?" she asked in a half-whisper.

"I can't tell," Harry admitted. "Ron thinks that he's behind it, but then, Ron thinks that Severus is behind it as well." He shook his head.

"I can't imagine that Lucius is behind it," she said in a fierce whisper. "He was rotting in Azkaban when we first came. But what does he think about Narcissa being Corley's wife?"

Harry shrugged. "He didn't seem to care."

Hermione looked incredulous. She then pushed open the door and saw the five of them sitting around the table having an early dinner. "Good evening," she said, with a brief smile and sat down at the table.

The dinner was a rather quiet affair. Several times during the dinner, Hermione suspected that Will was about to say something, but didn't. He suspects something, she thought.

Lucius was uncharacteristically quiet and didn't say more than a few words to her. After dinner as she was walking back to her room, he waylaid her.

"May I have a word?" he asked.

"Certainly," she said. Then she frowned. "How come you aren't in your cell?"

"Non-violence spell," he said.

"Isn't that blood-based?"

He gave a brief smile. "You surprise me sometimes, Hermione, with your knowledge of the Dark Arts."

"I like to be knowledgeable," she admitted rather defensively. She opened the door to her own room and closed the door once they were inside. "So what did you want to talk about?"

As she watched, his grey eyes narrowed. She fought the urge to take a step backwards. Non-violence spell, she chanted to herself. "Why didn't you tell me about Narcissa?" he demanded.

Hermione frowned. Was that all he wanted to know? "Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"I just want to know," his voice was stiff. "Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you think that it was important? That my old wife was now the wife of the new Minister who, by the way, is the newest Dark Lord. Did you think that it would make me angry? Well, guess what? It did." He was standing very close to her now, his breath hot in her face.

She took that step backwards, but found herself against the wall. "Damn it, Lucius, I didn't know!" she snapped angrily. Part of the anger, though, was directed at herself for being so scared.

"Bullshit, Hermione," he said, faint speckles of spit hitting her face. "You met with Corley before! How couldn't you know?"

"How the hell could I have known?" she demanded. "He didn't tell me. It wasn't written anywhere."

His eyes narrowed further, and a sneering smile appeared on his face. "Are you sure, my dear Hermione?"

She wasn't sure she liked the tone of his voice and instinctively shivered. "Positive," she said, injecting as much sincerity as she could in his voice.

"Or maybe you simply wanted that titbit of information to manipulate me with," he said softly, using one hand to pin her arm to the wall. "You do have a very Slytherin side, Hermione."

"Let me go!" she spat. He wasn't hurting her, the non-violence spell wouldn't have let him do that, but it was still an uncomfortable position to be in. It was more evocative of lovers than their current relationship.

"Not until you tell me why you didn't tell me," he said evenly. "Or perhaps, Hermione, perhaps you didn't want me to remember her. Perhaps you just wanted me for yourself. You wanted to fuck the big bad Death Eater."

In one motion, she pushed him away from her. He stumbled slightly. "How fucking dare you?" she spat, chest heaving. "What the hell has gotten into you, Lucius?" He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. "I don't want to know!" She opened the door. "Let me know when you're more rational." She narrowed her eyes. "And if you cannot be rational, then perhaps a few days in Maximum Security will help, non-violence spell or not."

Hermione slammed the door behind her, not caring that Lucius was in her own room.

-

Ron was deep in thought the entire route back to the Ministry. He had hired a Wizarding Taxi and it had picked him up from the pier on the mainland. It was now squeezing its way around and beside Muggle vehicles.

Absentmindedly, he looked around at the spacious interior of the car and noticed a cooler. Opening it, he found a bottle of Firewhiskey. He poured himself a small shot, wincing as the feeling of flames shot down his throat. There was an immediate feeling of well-being afterwards, which was what Ron wanted. He didn't particularly like Firewhiskey, but it was useful alcohol when it came to wanting to blank out one's mind. Even a small shot had incredible potency.

Through rather blurred eyes that refused to clear even when he blinked them, Ron stared at the slogans on various posters pinned around the car.

Which would YOU rather have? A little less freedom, or a LOT less city.

Minister Corley supports a change to peace and prosperity. Do YOU?

Ron was faintly amused as he read them. The tones of the posters were accusatory, yet he knew that few would be offended. The posters were obviously designed to stir up the last vestiges of fear of the war-torn years, and to channel them into admiration for the new Minister.

Squinting, he spotted a familiar looking poster.

Report dissidents and help create a lasting peace!

It was one of his own.

Ron's lips twisted into a bitter smile as he remembered the bewilderment of his old friends when he told them about the Ministry. He wondered what they would think if they knew that he was part of it, that part of his duties in the Department of Security was to weed out dissenters and anybody unhappy with the Ministry. But it wasn't his choice to do this. It was simply thrust on the Department of Security one day and anybody expressing surprise or horror at the requests had simply disappeared. Anybody asking after those missing also tended to vanish.

Ron was thankful that he simply didn't speak out those first few days. He wasn't sure why he didn't, but perhaps it was the tingling feeling at the back of his neck that something was wrong.

After his friends and colleagues disappeared mysteriously, everybody left learned quickly to obey orders and to smile when anybody outside the Department saw them.

Horror filled Ron the day he received the pink slip saying that Ginevra Weasley, Bill Weasley and Percy Weasley were declared traitors. He knew that Bill and Percy were held in a new Ministry prison but Ginny was in an unknown location. Briefly, he wondered how they had been caught, why they were caught and whether he could save them. A part of him, the part that seemed to be disappearing day by day, was appalled at his own behaviour. Shouldn't he be trying to save his family?

But then he simply filed the slip away with all the other pink slips and was careful not to reveal any of his inner pain to any of his colleagues. After all, they could be informers.

Being an informer was apparently a very lucrative job. Everywhere Ron looked, he could see some people with more money than they had any right to. Those people were easy to avoid. Ron was far more scared of the ones who knew how to blend in to the crowd.

He poured another shot of Firewhiskey and wondered if he really had signed his death sentence by going to see his old friends. Draining his shot, Ron decided that he didn't care.

Despite their rather paltry wages, Department of Security members still had more privileges than the ordinary citizen nowadays. It was hard to imagine that just six months ago, things were different. Not entirely different. Ron was beginning to realise just how much of the foundations for this were set up before Corley ever came into power.

The car suddenly jerked to a stop.

Ron looked outside the car and realised that he was in front of the Ministry. A wave of relief shot over him. Maybe the Ministry didn't suspect anything.

He got out of the car and walked inside the Ministry doors. He didn't notice the lack of people or noise of any kind. He didn't notice the taxi starting up again behind him and driving away.

But he did notice when behind him and all around him, the surroundings rippled like the road on a hot summer's day. When they settled down again, he saw that he was inside a grey stone building, not unlike those in Azkaban. The most frightening aspect of it wasn't the darkness, or the clouds of dust swirling around his feet, but rather, the complete silence. Ron could hear his own faint, quickened breath.

He paled.

"Welcome, Ron," a congenial voice greeted him.

Ron squinted and saw Minister Jack Corley coming out of the darkness. "Minister, where the hell am I?" he demanded. His hand reached down into his pocket and was about to pull out his wand but -

"Why, Ron, don't you know?" Corley flicked his wand and Ron's own flew out of his hand. Chains then wound themselves around Ron's ankles and wrists and he slumped to the ground. Corley shook his head. "Ron, you shouldn't have tried to be a hero."

"So I'm declared a traitor now, am I?"

A smile lit up Corley's face. "Precisely," he said with a sigh. "I'm quite disappointed in you. You had potential, Ron. You truly did. But you had to spoil it with these ridiculous Muggle notions of freedom."

"They're not ridiculous," Ron said with conviction. "You cannot succeed with this. Somebody will realise it and come to stop you."

Corley laughed a long, echoing laugh. "Perhaps that somebody would be your little Mudblood friend? But she's nicely hidden away in Azkaban, busy with ensuring that the prisoners have their rights and liberties. By the time she realises, it'll be far too late and I'll have destroyed Azkaban with her inside."

"Why are you trying to do this to us? Do you find it amusing to see our world suffer? Haven't we all suffered enough?"

Corley shook his head sadly. "You can't see it, can you? I'm not trying to make our world suffer. We're going to enter an era of peace and prosperity unheard of - undreamt of - by our ancestors. I'm helping us!"

"And what of people like me who you've thrown in prison? What of the people who you have ordered killed?"

"Some people will always reject what is best for them," Corley said calmly. "They're like children in that regard. I cannot let them hinder the progress of the rest of our world."

Ron couldn't believe the rubbish he was hearing. The thing that horrified him was that Corley seemed to believe in his own words implicitly. He truly seemed to think that he was being altruistic and doing this for the good of their world. With disgust, Ron spat on the ground, the globule of spit landing on the dust in front of the Minister's feet. .

"That was a bad choice, Ron," Corley told him, a sliver of anger lining his voice. He looked over from where Ron was lying on the ground and barked, "Guards, remove the prisoner from my sight."

Ron felt himself being levitated by somebody standing in the shadows. His body was manoeuvred, none-too-gently through long, narrow, stone corridors before it was deposited into a dirty little cell.

Corley was obviously following close behind because his face immediately appeared at the slits in the cell. "Don't entertain notions of escape," he said, with an almost whimsical smile. "Escape is impossible."

Wishing he hadn't taken that last shot of Firewhiskey, Ron narrowed his eyes. "Well I'll have to do the impossible, won't I?"

But Corley had already gone.

-

Harry found that Hermione was rather quiet during the days she returned from the Ministry. She still attended to the entire running of Azkaban while also looking after Snape and Lucius, but she didn't seem to enjoy it like she had before. He didn't get any sense that she was glad she was helping the inmates, or that she got any pleasure out of the job at all. Instead, Hermione's pursed lips and steely glare gave the impression that she was doing a distasteful duty. He wondered whether she was burning out but whenever he asked, she simply gave an abrupt shrug and hurried off in the opposite direction of where he was going.

They had still not figured out what to do with what Ron had told them. Harry could see that Hermione was - despite assurances to the contrary - having trouble believing what their old friend had told them. Even he had to admit that a part of him had the same problem. As far as he could see from The Daily Prophet and from what Hermione had said of what London looked like, there didn't seem like any problems.

A shiver crawled down his spine as he suddenly remembered the description of a Lethifold that was in his old schoolbooks. If it's true, he thought, it's like a Lethifold in the night. Almost invisible until it is too late for the unsuspecting victim.

Harry sighed and gave himself a mental shake.

He was standing outside, playing guard to the Medium Security Prisoners who were enjoying their daily exercise outside. Hermione had decreed that all prisoners, even the Maximum Security ones, would be allowed to taste fresh air. Not that they're appreciating it much, Harry thought as he watched blue-clothed people wandering around aimlessly around the courtyard.

The bright sunlight was acting as quite an effective eraser against the smells of Azkaban and if Harry closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was in Hogwarts during his first year where everything - although not entirely happy - wasn't filled with the stomach-twisting events of today.

But he didn't close his eyes, not even for a brief moment. His right hand was firmly around his wand. His eyes roved the courtyard, looking for prisoners acting suspiciously. Just in case.

A tap on his shoulder made Harry jump. He looked around and saw Will standing there.

"I'll take this watch," Will said. "You look tired."

Harry gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you," he said as he headed back towards the cottage.

Getting into the sitting room, Harry threw himself down on one of the sofas and decided to take a nap. But almost immediately after he had closed his eyes, somebody stormed into the room and threw what felt and smelt like a newspaper onto his chest. "What is it?" he muttered as he opened his eyes again.

Hermione stood above him, her arms crossed and wrapped around herself. Harry looked more closely and saw that her lips were trembling and a tear quivered in the corner of her right eye. "Look at that," she said softly, indicating the newspaper.

Harry picked up the newspaper and immediately saw the large print heading saying: Ronald Weasley, Prominent Security Department Member, Declared A Traitor. Below it, in only marginally smaller text read: Weasley trading Ministry information with Muggles!

"Ron's been arrested," Hermione whispered. Her face was ashen.

Harry looked at the heading again. He felt as though a part of his brain refused to process the information. It was impossible, ridiculous that Ron could have been arrested. He had only been at Azkaban with them a few days ago. And he was so careful nowadays. How was it possible?

As if she was echoing his thoughts, Hermione said softly, "How is it possible?"

"I have no idea." Harry skimmed down the article and saw the reasons given for the arrest. "Ronald Weasley was arrested soon after his visit to Azkaban Island by Ministry officials," he read from the article. "It was discovered that Weasley was trading sensitive Ministry documents with the Muggles, materials which could affect the course of a Magi-Muggle war, should such an event happen." He was about to continue reading, when Hermione lifted her hand up.

"Wait," she said. "A Magi-Muggle war?" She looked to Harry for confirmation.

He nodded.

"But the Muggles know nothing of this world," she protested. As Harry watched, her lips thinned and she pursed them. "That can't be. It just can't."

Harry felt a coldness creeping down his spine. He had a feeling he knew what she was denying.

"But that's the only explanation. Occam's razor and all." She looked down for a second and when she looked up again at Harry her eyes were overly bright. "The Ministry is trying to force us into another war, this time with the Muggles." Harry opened his mouth but Hermione continued, relentlessly. "That's why they're creating departments right and left. That's why they're locking up protestors. They want the entire wizarding world to believe that the Muggles are a threat."

"But, but," Harry wasn't really sure what he was trying to protest, but he couldn't believe that Corley wanted to send them into another war.

It seemed that a dam was bursting inside Hermione. "And by sending us into a war, by painting Muggle mistakes and inquisitiveness as dangers, he'll consolidate his hold on the wizarding world. He'll be able to formally declare martial law. What he has right now is only a pale shadow of what he would have if we ever went to war against the Muggles."

"But," Harry said, "wouldn't we lose?"

Hermione's pale lips were set in a line. "I'm not sure he cares."

-

With a determined expression on her face, Hermione knocked on the Minister's door for the second time in less than a week. Without an invitation again, she thought grimly as Sampson glared at her. She was rather surprised when the Minister had agreed to see her, but she wasn't going to throw away the opportunity to ask why Ron had been imprisoned. With one rather sweaty hand, Hermione smoothed out her neat black robes.

"Come in," a rather brittle voice said from inside.

She pushed open the door, stepped through and closed it behind her. The first thing she noticed about Corley when she glanced up was that he looked incredibly tired. He seemed to have aged about five years in less than a week. The lines around his eyes were deeper and there were dark sacks under his eyes. "Minister," she said, with a brief inclination of her head.

He gave her a rather wan smile. "How may I help you, Miss Granger?"

"I'm here to see you about my friend Ron Weasley."

Corley's sharp eyes focused on her own. "Miss Granger, I'm afraid Mister Weasley has been arrested for high treason."

"I'm well aware of that," she said, an edge in her tone. "But I'm afraid you must have made a mistake. I have known Ron for most of my life, ever since our first year at Hogwarts, in fact, and he would never betray us to the Muggles."

Corley raised an eyebrow. "Is it not true that his father Arthur Weasley frequently experimented with Muggle devices and almost exposed the wizarding world to the Muggles once, which led to his incarceration in Azkaban for six months?"

"Yes, but--" Hermione started, before he interrupted her.

"Miss Granger, as much as we sometimes want to think otherwise, we do not always know people as well as we think, and hope, we do." His voice was compassionate and gentle. "I'm afraid that this is one of those cases."

"You're wrong," she said bluntly, not caring that she was speaking directly against the Minister, the man they suspected of taking over the wizarding world.

He shook his head. "I'm sure you want to think that, Miss Granger, however, I'm afraid the evidence against Mister Weasley is overwhelming."

"Then," she said, rather tartly. "May I see this evidence?" She wouldn't give him a line to feed her.

"I'm afraid that the evidence is classified, but I have personally examined the evidence and I find it more than satisfactory." He looked deep in her eyes and Hermione could almost imagine his eyes brimming over with honesty. "Mister Weasley, as much as I hate to tell you, is every bit as guilty as the Daily Prophet makes him out to be."

"I know Ron and he would never do something like that," she argued, knowing full well that this kind of personal argument was very unlikely to sway the Minister.

He gave her a rather stern look. "I know you have difficulty accepting it, but your old friend is guilty. You would do well to remember who you were talking to as well."

Hermione resisted the urge to punch him or to give him Veritaserum. She suspected that even if she did have the latter that it probably wouldn't make him tell the truth. Lies dripped off Jack Corley's tongue like honey off a beehive "Why was he not brought before the Wizengamot for a full public trial, then?" she demanded.

Corley's face seemed to close like a door. "The delicacy of the matter meant that utmost secrecy needed to be kept," he told her, his tone even but without the compassion it had a few moments ago. "Although Wizengamot candidates are screened, it was impossible to ensure complete privacy. A public hearing was certainly out of the question. But, as I said before, you have the word of the Minister that Ronald Weasley is guilty. Surely, Miss Granger, that is enough?"

She pressed her lips together. "Yes, Minister Corley, that is enough," she said quietly, through clenched teeth.

The smile had returned to his face. "No problem, Miss Granger," he told her. "You may come and visit any time you wish. After all, this is a public office and I serve the people."

Hermione choked back a snort. "Thank you."

"In fact, we have another Ministry function soon. Invitations will be sent out in the mail in a few days. Perhaps you would like to join us? My wife Narcissa remembers you from your Hogwarts years and she would love to meet you again. I believe you were in her son's year. You may not know this, but her former husband is in Azkaban."

"Oh, really," Hermione said, her voice neutral. "If I attend the function, I'll be happy to meet her again."

He smiled at her. "Splendid."

After she stood there for a few seconds, Hermione realised that it was a dismissal. She walked to the door and without so much as a word of farewell, she shut it with a sharp click behind her.

-

Snape observed his old friend unobtrusively as they played chess together. Lucius appeared to be as he was before, but he'd changed. There wasn't anything obviously different about the blond-haired, straight-backed, arrogant man, at least not anything that would immediately tell a stranger that he had been in Azkaban for any length of time, but to Snape, there was still something about the man that hadn't been there before. It was a quiet thoughtfulness, he decided. Lucius looked far more like a man who would consider his decisions before he made them.

A corner of Snape's mouth quirked up. Then again, he thought, a prolonged stay in Azkaban can do that to a man.

But the real mark of how much Azkaban had changed Lucius was the fact the man could deign to speak to a Mudblood. Snape still found it a strange and faintly alarming thing to see two heads, one blond and smooth and the other brown-haired and bushy, bent over a chessboard together. He wasn't sure what kind of interest his old friend had in his former student, but Snape vowed to keep an eye on it.

It was true that it could be purely an intellectual interest - after all, Hermione was very intelligent - but somehow he didn't think so. His old friend didn't take purely intellectual interests in women, especially intelligent women. Even his former wife Narcissa had been a formidable woman. Snape wasn't surprised that she had married a man with political leanings. With Lucius in Azkaban for life, their marriage ties had been severed. It was only natural that she would want somebody powerful as her current husband and to cut all ties with her former, now criminal, husband.

"Something amusing you, Severus?" Lucius inquired, jerking Snape out of his thoughts.

Snape was surprised. He hadn't realised that a slight smirk had been playing around his lips. "Oh, it's nothing," he said.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and prodded a pawn forward a space. "I keep on getting this feeling that the Corley fellow is somebody I've known before," he said slowly.

Snape shrugged. "I've never heard of him before. So he probably wasn't a Death Eater."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "That lovely tattoo adorning both our left forearms would preclude him from taking on any Ministry positions. I'd already ruled that out. The problem is I'm not sure where I've met him. Perhaps it was in Germany, or in the States. Maybe in the USSR."

"I hear the Muggles call it Russia now," Snape said absent-mindedly as he moved a knight forward.

"A name is just a name," Lucius said, slight irritation edging his tone. "Really, Severus, you can be very pedantic sometimes. Even in Hogwarts, you were like this. Always wanting to get perfect marks on your exams even when you knew that my parents would pave our way into the world."

"You mean that the Dark Lord would help us," Snape said bitterly. He could still remember the promises made to him in school. Empty, pyrrhic promises now.

Lucius shrugged. "As I mentioned, you're pedantic."

"So you've said," Snape answered dryly. "Perhaps talking about your former trips would help jog your memory."

"It would," Lucius admitted. "My memory has some curious gaps nowadays; I'm not sure if yours has the same."

Snape nodded. "Hermione says that they should heal soon."

"The USSR was a beautiful place," Lucius said as he pushed yet another chess piece forward. "You could tell the country had history." A faint smile played about his face. "But I couldn't find any castles as nice as Malfoy Manor."

"Of course not," Snape said, sarcastically. He then paused and said in a more normal tone, "You told me that you studied with Serov."

"He was a trying teacher, at best. He only had mediocre magical powers, but by some twist of fate, had access to some of the best magical Dark Arts texts in Eastern Europe." Lucius shrugged. "All the best students went to him. We had some promising people in our class." He frowned suddenly.

"What's wrong?"

"Corley," Lucius said slowly. "He was there."

"What?" Snape exclaimed. "He studied the Dark Arts under Serov?" He carefully kept the envy out of his tone.

"Except he was going under the name of Comrade Borodin then. I never did learn his first name." Lucius looked over at Snape, his eyes dark. "You do realise what this means?"

"That Corley is the next Dark Lord," Snape said flatly.

"I wouldn't go that far," Lucius said, with a calculating expression on his face.

Snape shook his head. "Lucius, you aren't thinking that, are you?"

"I'm not thinking of joining him, if that's what you're implying," Lucius said irritably. "I've had my fill of following around jumped up Mudbloods."

"Corley isn't a Mudblood, is he?"

"You're being pedantic again, Severus," Lucius pointed out. "Besides, he's married to Narcissa."

Snape fell silent.

"Exactly," Lucius said, jabbing a finger so hard at the table that some of the chess pieces scurried away. "My former wife is certainly lucky in her choices of men." He said this in the tone of voice that implied it was anything but luck.

"We need to tell this to the others."

Lucius looked surprised. "I don't see why."

"Think about it, Lucius," Snape said. "They have resources. We don't. They're free. We're prisoners."

"I suppose so," Lucius said, still sounding rather dubious of the whole idea. "Hermione is back tonight. Hopefully she will be more open to the suggestion that Corley isn't who he says he is after her meeting with him today."

Snape nodded.

-

As it turned out, Hermione was more open to the suggestion that Corley once was called Comrade Borodin than either of those two had even suspected.

"I'm not surprised," she said flatly when they told her.

-

Hermione wasn't exactly sure why she had agreed to this trip ("emergency trip" Lucius had called it and even Harry had agreed) to Knockturn Alley, of all places. She would have never imagined during her Hogwarts years that she would ever venture down that little knobbly-stoned laneway just off the end of Diagon Alley. Despite the fact Harry managed to get out of the Alley unscathed during his second year, Hermione still couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom she got whenever she looked at the dark, unlabelled alleyway. Even the shops close to Knockturn Alley seemed seedier than those in Diagon proper.

Yet, she knew that she had to be here. Where else would somebody get Polyjuice Potion at such short notice? Even she had to admit that there was a certain urgency about their situation. From what she knew of Muggle dictatorships, people in their prisons had an unnerving tendency to disappear without notice, especially from state-run prisons. She didn't want that to happen to Ron.

Her fingers tightened around the purse in her hand as she turned the corner and surreptitiously slipped into Knockturn Alley. Around her, several witches and wizards did the same. It seemed that nobody wanted to be seen to be going there.

Hermione couldn't blame them. Although Knockturn Alley wasn't the same haven for dark witches and wizards as it once was, it still had a reputation of being a dangerous place to be in. Especially for Muggle-borns, she thought grimly as she walked down the dirty cobblestones with her head held high. Lucius had told her that if she were to remain unharmed ("molested" was the word he used) then she would have to exude confidence.

So Hermione walked along and tried her best to exude confidence.

For the life of her, she wasn't sure why Will or Jean hadn't come instead but Harry didn't trust them. Harry would have come himself, but that idea was vetoed by everybody. His face was still too recognisable for this to be an anonymous mission. Even Hermione's face did have a certain degree of recognisability, but with her hair magically straightened, she looked different enough.

As she walked past the shops, one of the men lurking in the minor alleyways came out and leered at her. "Lookin' for some fun, m'lady?" he said, his voice harsh and grating on her ears.

Hermione simply looked the other way and walked past. Behind her, she heard the man give a disappointed mutter. Privately, she sighed with relief. Apparently the methods Lucius taught her worked.

She walked into the depths of Knockturn Alley. Here the shops became more and more dank and dirty. The lettering on most of them were worn and faded. Even the prostitutes and sort didn't venture down here. Only the bravest dared. Or the most stupid, she thought as she walked on grimly, suppressing a shudder at the smell that wafted from an open window. It reminded her too much of Azkaban.

Finally, she came across a tiny, dirty little shop labelled "Quality Potions for the Connoisseur". Wrinkling her nose, Hermione pushed the door open, hearing the tinkle of the bell. She suppressed a wild giggle at the thought of such a Muggle implement in this shop.

The inside of the shop wasn't much better than the outside. It smelt of decay, misuse and human sweat. Half-filled bottles lined dust-ridden shelves all around her. In front of her there was a small counter.

After about two minutes, a back door opened from behind the counter and a small, wizened old woman came out. She peered at Hermione through thick lenses, but her eyes were sharp. "How may I help you, dearie?" she asked, coughing slightly.

Hermione gave a short bow and remembered what Lucius had told her. "Madam Stanton, my name is Lucinda Lysterfield. An acquaintance of mine informed me that this would be the appropriate place to obtain a quantity of Polyjuice Potion."

The old woman cackled. "Indeed?" she croaked.

Hermione nodded sharply. "If you do not have it, then I will simply have to take my business elsewhere."

Madam Stanton held up one withered hand. "I never said I didn't have it, my dear. I was simply wondering who this acquaintance of yours is."

"I'm afraid that my acquaintance does not wish for you to know." Hermione wasn't going to get caught in the trap of using a personal pronoun.

"Then," Madam Stanton said, "how do I know that you are not a Ministry inspector come here to deprive an old woman of her only source of livelihood?" She spread her arms out.

Hermione pursed her lips. "You have my word," she said finally, the words coming out sounding grated.

"Ah, but your word is not enough, Miss Lysterfield." Madam Stanton seemed to delight in tormenting Hermione. But Hermione knew what to say.

"Do you have Polyjuice or not? It is a simple question. Much like the question of what is on your left forearm." Hermione forced a cold smile onto her face. Lucius had told her that this woman was a former Death Eater, and somehow that particular piece of blackmail material didn't quell her worries. Despite the fact she could talk to both Snape and Lucius without feeling any threat on her life, talking to this old woman was a whole different matter.

The whole demeanour of the old woman changed. She drew herself up and glared at Hermione. "Miss Lysterfield, you have some gall saying that in my store."

"I only spoke the truth," Hermione said mildly. "Now about the potion."

Muttering something under her breath, Madam Stanton reached under the counter and after fumbling, she pulled out a green bottle. Hermione uncorked it and immediately caught a whiff of what was unmistakably Polyjuice.

"I trust that this is fresh," Hermione said pointedly.

"Indeed," the old woman said, with a sly smile. "I have many customers wanting that particular potion. It will be thirty Galleons."

Hermione opened her purse and took out the correct money. "I appreciate doing business with you, Madam Stanton."

"It's my pleasure, dearie." The old woman's original manner seemed to have returned. She scooped up the coins and stuffed them somewhere in her dirty robes. "I wish you luck in your assignation."

Hermione gave a sharp nod and left the store. Once outside, she breathed a sigh of relief. That was over.

-

Hermione decided that she was making far too many trips to and fro from Azkaban. It may have just been her imagination but the Muggle speedboat company gave her strange looks this time when she went to borrow the boat. She looked at the man sitting beside her on the small vessel that was making its bumpy way across the narrow strait, with his messy black hair and bright green eyes, and couldn't help but suppress a shudder.

He turned to her and smiled. It was a strange smile on that face. "What's the matter, Hermione?"

"Lucius, you know perfectly well what's wrong," Hermione said, with no small amount of annoyance in her tone.

Their plan had seemed good when they'd discussed it, but having a Death Eater sitting beside her in the skin of one of her best friends was unnerving at best. But still, it was the best plan they could come up with. Corley had all but invited her back to speak to him and she intended to make full use of the opportunity. And Lucius was the best person to read Corley's true motives because he had known him back when he was Comrade Borodin. Since the real Lucius wouldn't have been allowed within a kilometre of Ministry, then this was the best they could do. A curious fact Hermione had found was that the wards on Azkaban were tuned not to the consciousness of a person but rather to the body. That was how Sirius had managed to escape in dog form.

Back in Azkaban, Harry was also taking regular doses of Polyjuice and Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He would have to spend the day confined so as to not arouse sympathy.

"You know," Lucius observed. "You seem more concerned about the fact it's me sitting here rather than with the illegality of what we are doing."

"I've played with Polyjuice before," Hermione said, without thinking.

Lucius's eyes gleamed and she shuddered again to see that expression in such familiar green eyes. Harry's eyes were usually open and friendly, but Lucius's were guarded and hooded. "We really must work on your habit of blurting out the first thing on your mind," he said smoothly.

"I don't need your help." Her voice was frosty.

"But you do," he told her. "Otherwise why would I be here? But indulge me. I'm curious why you would have meddled with a Dark potion."

She glared at him. "You know as well as I do that Polyjuice isn't fully dark. It's a grey potion."

"You aren't answering my question, Hermione."

"Back in second year," she finally admitted. "We wanted to find out whether your son was the Heir of Slytherin. Happy?"

Lucius blinked. When he spoke, his voice was strangely raspy. "Draco couldn't have been the heir."

She frowned. "Well, we know that now. It was your precious Dark Lord." Somehow she had the impression that wasn't what Lucius had meant by his words.

He looked at her steadily for a moment, the green eyes unreadable. "I'm surprised that you managed to brew it correctly."

Her eyes narrowed. "Because I'm a Mudblood?" she said pointedly.

Lucius ran a hand through the messy black hair that was blowing in the wind and frowned. "How Potter manages to deal with this, I have no idea." He shook his head. "Why must you think that every comment I make to you has some bearing on your birth? An observer would think that you had a problem with having Muggle parents."

Glaring at him, Hermione replied, "Don't be ridiculous. I have a problem with your words because every time you open your mouth you insinuate that I'm unworthy because of my parents."

"Let me disappoint you, then," he replied, giving Harry's voice a smooth edge that it never had when Harry was using it. Hermione somehow suspected that Lucius had practice in using Polyjuice. He seemed perfectly comfortable wearing Harry's skin. "I was surprised because Polyjuice is a difficult potion for many fully trained witches and wizards. It requires a lot of time, effort and finesse. One mistake and the potion's wasted."

Hermione's mouth made a little 'o' of surprise. Was he giving her a compliment?

Lucius paused. "Of course, the fact that you're a Muggle-born makes it all the more surprising. I daresay that you were the brains behind the whole operation."

She wasn't sure whether to be indignant or feel slightly complimented. Frankly, Lucius unnerved her. She had no real idea what he was thinking, even when he was being civil to her. Especially when he was being civil to her. She settled for being silent.

The rest of the boat trip passed in relative silence. It was only when the boat drew into the dock and Hermione jumped out of the boat to tie it up that Lucius spoke. "How do I get out of this thing?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Just step out." Hermione couldn't help but be amused as Lucius clambered awkwardly out of the small vessel. She suspected that he wanted to use magic, but she didn't trust him with a wand.

"Stupid Muggle thing," he muttered.

"It's the only way we can get off the island," she told him mildly.

He glared at her and then reached down to uncap his hip flask. He drank deeply, grimacing slightly.

Hermione was surprised to feel a small twinge of empathy. She could still remember clearly how awful Polyjuice tasted. But the worst part, if she recalled correctly, was the feeling of the thick sludgy slime sliding down her throat. And to cap it off, she was turned into a half-cat. At least Lucius got to remain a person. She forced a slightly amused expression onto her face. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Better than Firewhiskey," was his only reply.

She had bought both of them bus tickets into London. Usually when she came alone she Apparated there, but she wasn't sure whether Lucius could do so. In fact, she was almost positive that he couldn't. Apparation was based on magical signature and although Lucius wore Harry's body, his magical signature would still be his own.

When they were safely ensconced in the bus, Hermione turned to Lucius and said sharply, "You will never, ever, ask the bus driver again why he couldn't just 'go directly through all the traffic, it's simple!' This is a Muggle bus." And then she wondered why she had automatically assumed that she would be going anywhere else with Lucius again.

He gave a shrug.

Three hours and numerous complaints from Lucius later - apparently traffic lights weren't essential equipment for the Knight Bus to get used to either - they arrived safely inside London.

Fortunately, the bus stop was only a few blocks away from the Ministry telephone booth, a fact that Hermione was very thankful for. She didn't exactly relish the idea of explaining the Underground to Lucius and why on earth there were ticket machines and barriers. Somehow she suspected that he wouldn't get it. There wasn't any real equivalent in the wizarding world.

As Hermione stated "Hermione Granger and Harry Potter" to the Ministry witch, she couldn't help the tiny tremor in her voice. She didn't think that the witch heard it but Lucius did and he gave her an irritated look. "Thank you," she said, her voice stronger as she took their temporary day passes, which they immediately pinned on.

They took the lift up to the Executive Floor where the Minister's office was housed. As they got out, Hermione greeted the Secretary to the Minister with a warm smile. She didn't particularly like the other woman; in fact, she found Margaret Sampson cold and officious, but there was no harm in having cordial relations.

Sampson's eyes widened as she took in Hermione's companion. "Mister Potter," she gushed as she stood up and walked over to take Lucius's hand. "It is such a pleasure to meet you."

Hermione could have sworn she saw a small flicker of panic in the green eyes before Lucius smiled and shook the older woman's hand. "I am very pleased to meet you," his eyes flicked to the badge on her chest, "Margaret."

Sampson gave him a warmer smile than she had ever given Hermione. "Not as pleased as I am to meet you." She cast Hermione a look of irritation almost as if to say, 'Why haven't you introduced us before?'

Hermione pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, Miss Sampson," she said, injecting sweetness into her voice. "But I'm afraid we only have a short time in London. May we see the Minister?"

Sampson blinked at her and Hermione had the strangest impression that she had forgotten her own job. It was funny the effect Harry's face had on people. She suppressed a wild giggle at what the older woman's face would be like if she knew that this was Lucius Malfoy. "The Minister is currently taking lunch." Her eyes brightened. "Perhaps you would like to join him."

Suppressing the desire to roll her eyes at the obvious attempt to get to know Harry better (surely Sampson would find an excuse to sit down with them once they were at the Minister's table), Hermione nodded. "That would be pleasant."

From the expression on Lucius's face she knew that he knew exactly what words she would have used instead of 'pleasant', had she been alone. It was funny, Hermione mused as Sampson knocked on the Minister's door, Harry wouldn't have understood me nearly as well as Lucius. Their old schoolyard bonds had withered somewhat over the years and Harry wasn't able to know how she felt any longer. Not, a small traitorous voice inside her whispered, that he ever could read you that well. They were led into an adjoining room to the main office where Hermione blinked rapidly to see the small feast adorning the table. It looked far too much for one person. The Ministry house-elves must be overworked, she thought absently.

"Minister Corley," Sampson said with a nod. "Miss Granger and Mister Potter are here to see you. Since they said that they wouldn't be long, I thought that they might like to join you for lunch." Her eyes suddenly brightened. "Is that a smoked salmon sandwich?"

The Minister laughed. "Margaret, if you want to join us, you only need ask."

Sampson looked slightly abashed but sat down anyway. "Thank you."

Corley gestured out at the seats around the table. "Miss Granger, Mister Potter, please sit down."

Hermione sat down on the chair diagonally opposite from the Minister, and after the briefest of hesitations Lucius took the chair directly opposite.

"Back so soon, Miss Granger," Corley said conversationally but she thought she could detect a note of suspicion in his voice.

"Harry was busy last time," she explained, and wished again that she had a better reason, "and he wanted to see you." She shrugged. "Staying at Azkaban can be a bit oppressive so I thought I'd just tag along." She made her eyes wide and unblinking as she spoke and hoped that he believed her.

Fortunately, he seemed to accept the rather flimsy excuse. "It is nice to see you again. I hope you are well."

She nodded. "I am." Privately she wasn't that sure about the Minister himself though. He looked sicker than when she last saw him. She amended that thought. Corley didn't look sick, per se, but he looked terribly overworked and tired. There were large black bags hanging underneath his eyes. His skin had a grey tinge.

He gave her a rather wan smile. "I suppose you are wondering about my appearance. This job is quite demanding."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Lucius interjected, smiling at the Minister.

Hermione suppressed a shiver at the courtier-like smoothness in his tone.

Corley turned to Lucius. "Mister Potter, it is very nice to see you. I cannot express how grateful I am that you support this new Azkaban venture."

"I thought - and still think - that the Azkaban idea is a very ingenious one," Lucius said. "I was glad to give it my full support."

"You have your friend Miss Granger to thank for that."

Lucius turned to Hermione and looked into her eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," she replied, not knowing why her throat was so tight.

Turning back to the Minister, Lucius smiled again. "I must say you look familiar. Have we met before?"

Corley frowned in thought. "I do not believe so. I was not in this country during most of your schooling and post-schooling years, and I believe you spent your pre-schooling years with Muggle relatives."

"They took me overseas a few times," Lucius said blandly and Hermione almost winced at the bald-faced lie. They had gone over Harry's life story a few times - a rather surprising tale for both Snape and Lucius - just to make sure that Lucius would make no errors. She was positive, however, that this was no error. It was simply a lie and a very good one at that. Lucius was looking directly at the Minister's eyes and he wasn't blinking. "We went on a holiday to Dresden, Germany once to see the remains of a Muggle concentration camp. Another time we went to Leningrad, USSR, now St. Petersburg, Russia. Perhaps I saw you then?"

Was it just her imagination or did Corley's face look slightly pale? Hermione took up a knife and fork and began to eat the food on the plate in front of her in an attempt to quiet her nerves. She wasn't sure what the food was, but she systematically cut it up and put it in her mouth while she watched. Sampson was sitting there too, mouth slightly open.

"Perhaps we did meet there then," Corley said, after a brief pause. He took a long drink of water before he continued. "You must have been a very young lad then. I'm surprised that you still remember."

Lucius gave a faint smile. "I rarely ever forget faces, Minister Corley." He tilted his head slightly and asked, as if he just thought of it, "What were you doing in Leningrad during that time? We had difficulty getting visas into that country. It was only because my uncle had a brother who lived there that we were able to get in."

Corley seemed to flounder before he finally said. "It was easier for witches and wizards."

Hermione decided that it was time to add her own bit. "Was it?" she asked innocuously. "I remember reading that it was very difficult, even for magical folk."

"And Hermione is always right on those kinds of things," Lucius said.

"Well," Corley snapped, "she's wrong this time." He seemed to catch himself and managed to force his lips into a grotesque parody of a grin. "It was fairly easy for me to enter Leningrad," he continued in a more casual tone of voice. "Not child's play, but fairly easy nonetheless."

Because you were a Dark wizard and you had contacts, Hermione wanted to scream but she didn't. Looking at Lucius's face, she realised that he had decided to stop asking questions about the past. She opened her mouth. "Wasn't Leningrad a haven for Dark witches and wizards back then?" she said casually. "Did you meet any, Minister Corley?"

Lucius sent her an admiring look as the Minister stiffened. "No," he finally said. "I don't believe I did. But you never know with those slippery bastards."

"No," Lucius agreed. "You never do know, do you?"

Hermione bit back a grin as she saw the baffled expression on Margaret Sampson's face. Obviously she had no idea who her boss truly was.

"Surely, Minister," Lucius said, his tone had a tinge of something Hermione couldn't recognise when it came out in Harry's voice. She suddenly realised that it was arrogance, the arrogance of somebody who had always gotten his own way. "Surely you could release Ron and place him under house arrest. If he no longer transmits any information to the Muggles - providing that he did anything of the sort in the first place - then everything is fine, is it not? The public needn't know anything."

Hermione gave Lucius a veiled glance of amazement. She would have never done or said anything like that. Briefly she wondered whether that was the way Lucius himself did business back when he had influence and maybe that was why he was so good at it.

The Minister shook his head. "The Daily Prophet would find out." Hermione could barely conceal her snort at this. "I'm sorry. I cannot do that. Not even for you Mister Potter. The public, as much as they admire and like you, would lynch you if they found out."

"But they needn't find out," Lucius said persuasively.

"I'm sorry," Corley said, his voice having a note of finality in it. "Was that all you came to see me for? I'm sorry."

"Minister," Hermione said, in one last desperate attempt, "could we at least see our friend? It wouldn't do any harm."

Corley shook his head. "Ronald Weasley may pass messages outside through you. I'm sorry, but I cannot allow that possibility to happen. You may not even know you are being a conduit."

Hermione folded her lips tightly so as to not give him a piece of her mind.

Lucius wasn't nearly as diplomatic. "Well," he said as he stood up, scraping his chair back. "Then it is entirely unnecessary for us to be here any longer. I am very sorry for taking up your time, Minister." He walked over to the door and held it open for Hermione.

She stood up hurriedly and nodded towards the Minister. "Goodbye," she said.

"Goodbye," he called after them, irritation evident in his voice.