Azkaban Revisited

Chapter 7

Going through London while martial law was in force was a very different experience, Hermione decided. Even the atmosphere in the Muggle areas somehow felt different. Everybody seemed to be on edge. Impulsively, she had phoned her parents and asked how they were doing. Apparently Muggle London was also on some sort of orange alert due to the possibility of a terrorist attack. Doubtless, she thought dryly, the work of Magi-Muggle relations.

The feeling in Diagon Alley, where she stopped for lunch, was worse. Nobody seemed to keep eye contact with each other long. Mothers grasped the hands of their children tightly, as if afraid to let them go. Even young children seemed less playful today. It was a far cry from the happy atmosphere just a week ago.

She entered the Leaky Cauldron and found the pub to be almost deserted. She wished that she could have a stiff drink but decided against it. Meeting Narcissa Corley while inebriated, even slightly, wouldn't be a good idea.

"Tom," she greeted the bartender.

He sighed as he wiped the table in front of her. "Horrible news, isn't it?"

"Mmmhmm," she said neutrally.

"How's things at Azkaban Isle, making changes?"

She smiled. "Yes," she said. "It is going very well." And indeed it was. It was simply other parts of her life, and the life of the wizarding world that were falling apart.

"And what would you like today?"

After a moment of thought, Hermione ordered a sandwich and a butterbeer. But even that sweet drink didn't seem as nice today. She made a face.

"Everything does seem sour, doesn't it?" Tom said, correctly interpreting her face. "Corley was a good man. He'll be hard to replace."

"I hear that his wife is the new Minister," Hermione said carefully. She trusted Tom. It was simply the other patrons of the Leaky Cauldron - few as they were - that she didn't trust. "What do you think of that?"

He frowned. "I hadn't heard of that, but I'm sure that Corley had his reasons."

Hermione nodded. She was sure of that, too. Biting into her roast beef and vegetable sandwich, she lapsed into thought. How on earth am I going to convince Narcissa, she thought helplessly.

"You look worried," Tom commented as he came back ten minutes later to collect her empty plate.

She came back down to earth with a start. "Oh," she said vaguely. "Just this and that. I'm just wondering what will happen now." She took a few galleons out of her purse and pushed them towards the bartender. "Thanks for the meal."

He smiled at her, a half-toothless smile. "Don't worry, lassie, everything will turn out to be all right."

Oh, I'm sure they will be, she thought as she pushed open the door and went outside into the bright sunlight. But I'll have to make them so.

At Ministry Headquarters, she took out a note from Narcissa's personal secretary that allowed her access to the Ministry. Hermione had made an appointment to see Narcissa about three days ago and had just heard that morning that she had been slotted in today. The security guard at the entrance gave her a suspicious glance. "I'm afraid," he consulted her note, "Miss Granger, that you will have to relinquish your wand here. We cannot afford to take any chances. You will get it back when you leave."

"I thought separating a witch or wizard from their wand was supposed to be illegal," she commented.

The guard simply stared at her in the eye. "Forced separation is, ma'am," he told her. "You have a choice, you may either leave or relinquish your wand."

Biting her tongue, Hermione handed in the long switch of willow that had been her steadfast companion during her years in the wizarding world. She strongly objected to this latest policy but suspected that if she protested, she wouldn't be allowed in at all.

The guard took her wand and slipped a label on it. He gave her a piece of paper in return and said, "Hand this in when you leave and you'll get your wand back."

She took the piece of paper, folded it and carefully put it into an inner pocket of her robes. Somehow Hermione didn't put it past the Ministry to accidentally lose her wand. "Thank you," she said, always polite.

As she was about to go, the guard called again. "Miss Granger?"

She turned around. "Yes?"

"Please pin this onto your robes."

She walked over and he handed her a badge with the words 'Authorised Visitor' in large, flashing, block letters. With a sigh, she pinned it on.

Walking through the front doors of the Ministry, Hermione was struck at how utterly different everything looked to only a few days before. Everywhere she looked, people were scurrying around, busy, all with eyes cast downwards. Every now and again, there was an Auror stationed and each of them gave her badge an intense scrutiny. Suddenly, she realised that even Ministry employees had badges pinned on them saying so. Hell, she thought, even the Aurors have badges.

As Hermione stepped out of the elevator on the now familiar Minister's floor, she was stopped by an Auror. She raised an eyebrow when she saw his hand hovering around his wand holster.

"Please stand still," he ordered her and waved something in front of her.

Hermione squinted at it. It looked somewhat familiar. Suddenly she realised what it was. "Is that a Muggle metal detector?" she asked.

The Auror looked at her suspiciously. "And how would you know something like that?"

"I'm Muggle-born," she explained, trying not to grit her teeth as she said it. "When I go on holidays with my parents we have to walk through larger versions of those at airports." She could tell by his expression that he had no idea what she was babbling about. "Why do you need them?"

He stared at her coldly. "We take all precautions. The next assassin may well use Muggle guns."

From the way he said the word, Hermione suspected that he didn't know what guns were. Probably has only seen a blurry picture of them, she thought, with some amusement. It would be a strange wizard to be carrying a gun.

"You're clear," he told her as he finished running the portable metal detector over her person. "Go in and tell the secretary that you're here."

As she walked through into the main rooms, she noticed that Margaret Sampson was no longer there. Instead in her place was a rather handsome young man who looked rather familiar. She wracked her brains and finally managed to come up with a name for him. "Blaise Zabini, right?" she said as she walked up to the desk. She could remember that he was one of the few purely Slytherin families who had opted to fight for their side in the Voldemort wars.

He looked at her through rather cold eyes. "And you are?" he asked as he consulted a list sitting beside him.

"Hermione Granger," she said as she extended a hand. "I remember we went to Hogwarts together."

A light dawned in his eyes, but they didn't seem to get any warmer. "Gryffindor Head Girl. I remember you. Do you have an appointment?"

She nodded and produced the slip of parchment she had been sent by owl. "Here," she said as she handed it to Blaise.

He scrutinised it for a second. "You may go through," he finally said.

Hermione let out a silent sigh as she turned away from him. It seemed that they would be on no friendlier terms outside Hogwarts than they were in. Although the Zabinis had fought for their side, it was done with apparent reluctance. She suspected that they might have fought for Voldemort if he had been more... sane. Although, she reflected, it was a good thing that he wasn't. Otherwise, many families wouldn't have so readily taken their side.

She gave a rather tentative knock on the door. Privately, Hermione was shaking her head, not knowing how she was going to go through with this. Publicly, however, she strived to keep a calm demeanour. Relatively calm, she told herself. You were raped.

"Come in," a woman's voice called from inside.

Hermione's first impression of the older woman as she shut the door behind her was that she looked far better than her husband did when Hermione had last seen him. "I'm glad you could make the time to see me," she said quietly.

Narcissa gave her a warm smile. "It was no trouble, Miss Granger. May I call you Hermione?"

Hermione nodded mutely.

"My late husband said that you were an amazing young lady and I wanted to meet you," Narcissa said.

Hermione could feel herself thawing towards the woman and gave herself a hard mental kick. Narcissa's good, she thought with a tinge of admiration. If she hadn't been already on edge, Hermione thought she might have been taken in by the woman's friendliness. Better than her late husband anyway, she thought cynically. "Thank you, Mrs. Corley," she said.

"Please," Narcissa said with a trembling lip, "please call me Narcissa. Mrs. Corley," she sighed, "it reminds me too much of Jack."

Guilty conscience? Hermione thought spitefully as she forced herself to remember what she came for. Nevertheless, she smiled sympathetically. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Narcissa."

Narcissa gave a faint smile and pushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes. "I am, too." She took a visible breath and seemed to straighten herself up. "Now, what made you come to see me today?"

Hermione made her thoughts turn inwards. When she had been going over this the past few days with Lucius (a rather uncomfortable situation), she had gone through all different ways of telling this particular lie. Finally, they had settled on embarrassment. If she could show visible embarrassment on her face, perhaps with fidgeting and looking aside, then it would look realistic. This was despite it going against everything Hermione had ever read about lying. "Forget it all," Lucius had ordered. "Try to make it realistic. Pretend it actually happened."

She bit her lower lip.

"Is there something the matter?" Narcissa said, sounding concerned. Her bright blue eyes practically radiated sympathy.

"I don't really know why I'm here," Hermione finally said, her fingers twisting her robe. "I just..." she took a deep breath. "Need somebody to talk to and I thought you would understand." While she was talking, she had made her eyes as wide as possible so that now they were filling up with tears. Hermione looked up and blinked. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Narcissa immediately fished a handkerchief out of robes and handed it to Hermione, who wiped her eyes with it. "This is a public office," she said. "It's my job to try and help you." She hesitated. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

It was funny, Hermione thought, how similar Narcissa's statement was to her late husband's. She wondered who had learned from whom. "No, thank you," she said quietly.

"Now, can you tell me what's wrong?" Narcissa asked.

"It's, it's about your former husband. Lucius Malfoy," Hermione said.

Narcissa's face darkened. "I rue the day I ever married him," she said quietly. "For all his posturing, he's a rude and uncouth lout. And his political policies are morally repugnant to me." She frowned suddenly. "You are the caretaker of Azkaban, are you not? If he is making trouble for you..."

"It depends how you define trouble," Hermione said, injecting all the bitterness she felt about the current political situation into her voice.

The lines on Narcissa's forehead deepened. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't say it," she whispered.

Myriad emotions flitted over Narcissa's face. Confusion, slight understanding, shock and finally settling on horror. "You can't mean..." she said, a sharp edge in her voice.

"Yes," Hermione said softly. "I really didn't know who to go to. He's charmed everybody else into his pockets. I thought, maybe, since you were married to him for so long that you'd understand." She felt her face turn red. "Not that I'm implying anything!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, I understand," Narcissa said grimly.

The next thing Hermione felt was the older woman's arms going around her. She stiffened slightly and then consciously relaxed her body. "Thank you," she said. "Almost all today I was... I just didn't know what you'd say. I felt so stupid for sending out that owl. I mean, I don't even know you that well except by," her lips twisted, "association."

"It was the right decision," Narcissa said as she sat down in her own chair again.

Hermione widened her eyes. "Oh, please don't tell him I told you," she begged. "Please don't tell anybody. I couldn't bear for this to get out. It's just too ... embarrassing." She let out a self-deprecating laugh. "It sounds so silly, doesn't it? But I just ... don't want people looking at me, thinking, 'Oh that's the girl Lucius Malfoy raped'."

Narcissa's lips thinned. "You have my word, Hermione. But he cannot be allowed to do this to you again."

Hermione felt a slight constriction around her heart and wondered what the older woman planned for Lucius.

"May I ask," Narcissa said and then hesitated. "May I ask how he managed it?"

Panic suddenly filled Hermione. They hadn't discussed this aspect. Somehow she suspected that Lucius was rather embarrassed and horrified by the whole cover story. "It was my fault," she said quietly, thinking fast. "I wanted to make sure all the people in Azkaban had at least a minimum standard of living conditions. When I went into his cell, he looked ill so I decided that he should be moved into our cottage - the one that I share with the others." She gave a bitter laugh. "What a stupid plan! He seemed so nice those first few weeks. Almost... non Malfoy-like. And then one day when nobody else was there in the cottage... it happened." She bit her lip. "That was a few weeks ago. I haven't gone near him since." Hermione had decided that the best lie was one supplemented with truth.

Narcissa looked at her with sympathy in her eyes. "You have my word that he will pay for what he did to you."

Hermione widened her eyes. "But how? He's already in ... prison."

She tilted her head. "Surely you haven't forgotten the new prison my late husband, bless his soul, established? I can easily arrange a transfer."

"But wouldn't it be the same?"

"I can assure you," Narcissa told her, "that it will not be the same."

Hermione shot the older woman a grateful look. "I can't say how much I'm grateful for this," she said with as much sincerity as possible.

Narcissa laid a delicate hand on Hermione's own. "You forget that I lived with the man for almost twenty years. I know him well and this, frankly doesn't surprise me." She gave a tiny laugh. "I have to admit that this is as much for me as you."

"Thank you," Hermione said, standing up. "I should probably get back now. And, Narcissa, I am sorry again for your loss."

"The transfer should be very soon."

Hermione walked through the Ministry towards the exit in almost a daze. She hadn't thought that Narcissa would believe her so completely, but she supposed people didn't usually question rape victims. Except Muggle defence attorneys, she thought cynically as she remembered the TV shows she used to watch at times in the holidays.

Only outside the Ministry did Hermione let some of the horror she felt at Narcissa's words show on her face. Narcissa certainly doesn't play around with punishments, she thought, and wondered what Lucius would say once she told him of his imminent transfer to another prison.

-

Lucius cornered Hermione that evening as she was about to enter her quarters. With no small annoyance, she motioned for him to go inside and once they were both within her room, she cast a general localised silencing spell.

"Now tell me how it really went?" he asked her as he sat down on the chair she always kept by her bed.

"I told everybody before," Hermione said, rather annoyed. "It went fine. Narcissa believed me."

"Why don't I believe you?" Lucius gave a smirk. "Let me see. You kept on giving me surreptitious glances all during dinner. I don't think that's modesty, given what happened a week ago. I decided to ask you what you wanted to tell me before you managed to convince yourself that it wasn't necessary after all.

Hermione could feel her face turning red. Could he read me so well, she wondered, or is it simply a series of lucky guesses? "I was telling the truth," she protested. "She did believe me."

She could feel his eyes scrutinise her as she stared at a spot above his head. Hermione didn't feel like she was up to looking him in the eye and lying. Finally, he nodded. "So what aren't you telling me?"

She let out a long breath. "You would have found out sooner or later."

His voice was deceptively calm. "What would I have found out?"

"She plans on transferring you to the London prison," Hermione said flatly. "I will tell the others later."

In all the time she had seen Lucius, from her childhood up until a few minutes, she had never seen him look truly shocked. Mildly surprised, yes, but not shocked. Now, however, he had an expression of shock with no small amount of horror on his face. "That," he said slowly, "was a possibility I had considered, but not seriously."

Hermione blinked slowly. It sounded like Lucius doubted her ability to make Narcissa believe their - rather outlandish, she had to admit - story. "I rather thought the entire purpose was to make her believe the story," she pointed out. "Her reaction is reasonable in the circumstances."

He turned to look her in the eye. "You believe that my raping somebody is that easily believable to somebody who had been married to me for twenty years?"

She had a feeling, a quite familiar feeling, but one foreign to her so far where Lucius Malfoy was concerned. Biting her lip, Hermione realised that she was feeling guilty. "I didn't say that," she protested. "I was the person who said that the idea was rather improbable in the first place. You decided that it was believable to Narcissa because she hated you!"

Slowly, Lucius seemed to nod, although it was more of a painful half-inclination of the head. "I just never believed that she would think that of me," he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself.

Hermione would never know what possessed her to open her mouth then, but it opened, inexorably and the words came spilling out. "You were a Death Eater," she pointed out in a voice that even made herself cringe inside. It was her best what Ron and Harry had called her Know-It-All voice. "You must have committed countless atrocities. Doubtless she knew about them. What makes it so unbelievable that she would believe this?" If she had stopped then, then perhaps Lucius would simply have stalked out of her room, furious, but she had to add one more sentence. "For all I know, you have done things like that before." It felt like the events of the past days and weeks had been building up and a dam inside her had opened.

Lucius froze. During her tirade he had turned his head towards the door, eyes narrowed, but now he slowly turned back to face her again. Hermione shivered. His grey eyes seemed to burn with ... something, she didn't want to know what. "Did you just say what I thought you said?" he said icily.

Hermione licked her lips, which had suddenly become very dry. "What did you think I said?" she asked.

"Did you just imply that I had perhaps raped a woman before?" Lucius said, seeming perfectly calm and level but for the eyes.

Dumbly, she nodded and then wondered what had possessed her to do such a stupid thing.

He stood up and walked over to where she was standing near the door, until he was right next to her. When he spoke, his voice tickled her ear. "I will have you know, Hermione," he said, his voice a low hiss, "that I have never, ever, taken a woman who was unwilling." He paused, but she didn't dare to turn her head to look at him. "But perhaps," he said in a casual tone, "I have been wrong. Now would be a perfect time to test the theory. We could give Narcissa physical evidence of suspicions planted."

Hermione paled. "Don't be ridiculous," she said faintly.

"Ridiculous, ridiculous," he mocked with a sneer. "Everything is ridiculous to you." As she turned her head, she could see a gleam in the eyes so close to her. "Perhaps I ought to take advantage of this silencing spell."

So quickly that Hermione didn't even register it, her wand was snatched out of her robe pocket and flung across the room. Lucius grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the wall. There's going to be a bruise there, Hermione thought faintly, feeling the circulation cut off from one of her hands. She wondered how he had gotten so strong. She tried to struggle but his pin was iron hard. When she tried to kick, one of his legs insinuated itself between hers.

"I wouldn't do that. The rules of this particular game have changed, my dear Hermione," Lucius breathed in her ear. "I'm in charge now."

"Lucius," she said, with firmness that she didn't feel. "Please. This isn't like you."

He suddenly bent over and pressed his lips against hers with almost bruising force. Hermione felt a slight tingle go through her and then the kiss was finished, almost as soon as it had started.

"It isn't like me?" Lucius curled his upper lip, but she noticed that his breathing was uneven. "You seem to think it is. My former wife seems to think it is. Surely the wizarding world does not think any different. And what are we but pawns to public opinion?"

"Don't do this," she tried again, a slight tremor building up in her voice. "You said that you aren't like this. Are you going to betray your own morals?"

He gave her a dark smile. "Isn't that what being a Death Eater is all about?"

"That was years ago."

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." Lucius said the words almost like he was reciting a mantra of sorts. With a shiver, Hermione realised that he might be. "The Dark Lord said it and the Ministry says it."

"Severus was one," she argued. "He isn't now."

"Ah," he gave a small snort, "my dear friend Severus. Dumbledore's lapdog." His eyes fixed on a spot above Hermione's head, probably where he had pinned my hands, she thought.

Then, with almost the same suddenness with which he had grabbed her, he let her go and stepped backwards. "But you're right," he said, with sudden bitterness. "I do not betray my own morals, despite what others might think. I will go back to my cell, supposing you are so kind as to give me that."

Hermione blinked as she realised what Lucius was referring to. He's almost as masochistic as Severus, she thought and then frowned. But he did try to rape you, another voice chimed in. He didn't do anything, she argued back. I ... I hurt his feelings. "You're still welcome in our company," she ventured.

He looked at her with a faint curl of his upper lip. "Aren't you scared I'll try that again?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry about what I said before." Without waiting for a response, she walked to the door. Just as she was about to turn the knob and break the silencing spell, she suddenly realised something. Turning around, she stared at Lucius. "What about the non-violence spell."

Lucius shrugged. "Easily overcome," he said, his voice nonchalant.

It was then that Hermione wondered what horrors might have happened had Lucius not been on their side.

So far, she added to herself as Lucius walked past her and she shut the door again.

-

The summons came faster that Hermione had anticipated. A scarce two days had passed since she went to the Ministry and already she felt a change in the wards around the island. Strangers were getting off at the boat dock. Pulling on a jumper to ward off the chilly spring air, she hurried out of the cottage, leaving the sick prisoner in Will's startled care. Going through the gate, Hermione noticed the Ministry emblem emblazoned at the side of the vessel. Two men and a woman were getting out of the rather large boat.

She strode up to them. "I assume you are Ministry representatives sent by Narcissa Corley."

The woman stared down her nose at Hermione and she was given an unpleasant reminder of how Narcissa had looked at her at that Quidditch World Cup so long ago. "We are," she said. Her voice had a faint accent that Hermione couldn't place. She thought it might have been Asian, but that didn't go with the appearance of the brown-haired, blue-eyed woman. "We are here to collect the prisoner."

The two men didn't say anything.

"This way," Hermione said, and spun around. She walked off without looking behind to make sure that they were following. The prisoner? She realised what tactics they were using. If you dehumanise a person, she thought, then you can do anything to him or her. If they are no longer Lucius, or Mister Malfoy, but become an abstract like 'the prisoner', anything can be done. She gave an involuntary shiver.

"It is rather chilly out here, is it not?"

Hermione turned and noticed that the woman had caught up to her and was now walking in pace with her. No, she corrected, the woman was walking half a pace behind and obviously was very careful to keep in step. "It is," she agreed.

"How unfortunate for the prisoner," the woman commented.

"Yes," Hermione said, blandly but inside she was fuming. After all she had worked so hard for, it was so easy for the Ministry to come here and take a prisoner away? Even without basic considerations? Granted, she admitted, I did give them permission. She let out a soft breath and decided to make conversation. She was leading them the long way around to the Maximum Security Unit. Hermione hoped dearly that Harry had noticed the shift in wards as well and had immediately bundled Lucius into Maximum Security. "Your accent," she said, with a brief smile. "Where do you come from?"

The woman gave her an enigmatic smile. "Few ever notice it. Where do you think it comes from?"

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. There were few things she liked better than a good puzzle and as much as her goals might be different from this woman's, she felt that the other woman was intelligent and that was always a plus. "Somewhere in China?" she guessed. "In Asia, definitely."

Now, the woman's smile was genuine, Hermione noticed. All the signs Lucius had told her were there. Crinkled eyes, ends of eyebrows slightly downwards. "I grew up in the People's Republic," she said. "My parents were scholars. They wanted to study the origins of Chinese magic, which are rumoured to be different from those of Western magic." She paused and wrinkled her nose. They had just walked from the Minimum Security wing into the Medium Security wing.

Correctly guessing the reason for the expression the woman pulled, Hermione said, "This is why I'm taking you this way. You get used to the smell, but if we went directly to Maximum Security, I wouldn't be surprised if you threw up. I did the first time I went in there. The smell's a lot better now but it seems to have seeped into the stone." There, she thought with satisfaction. That's almost the truth.

"I can deal with strong smells," the woman told her.

"So," Hermione said, wanting to change the topic, "tell me about the origins of Chinese magic?"

The woman's eyes gleamed. She obviously recognised a fellow intellectual. "Did you know that Dementors originated in ancient China?"

Hermione was genuinely surprised. "No, I didn't. What were they used for?"

"The Emperors of China used the Dementors as Guards in their tombs. To protect the treasure and to guide them into the afterlife. It was believed that Dementors were guardians of souls for eternity."

Hermione shivered. It sounded macabre to her. Suddenly, a thought hit her. "All the Emperors?" she asked.

The woman looked at her with faint admiration. "Chinese magic at first only manifested itself in the Royal family. Nobody knows why, but some suspect magic was suppressed in commoners by means of a large scale ward. Some even consider that the Great Wall of China was a sinister symbol. But sometime in early last century, magic suddenly bloomed in China. Suddenly there were witches and wizards in every walk of life. It caused such bloody revolution that even the Muggles picked up on it. It was said that before that the Chinese had a way of controlling Dementors." She shrugged delicately. "If they did, it was lost in flames."

Hermione could feel her mind whirring. She had never read much on non-Western magics (there simply wasn't enough material on it in the Hogwarts library)but if what the woman said was true, the results... She shivered. The results could be catastrophic.

She mentally pinched herself. They were nearing Lucius's cell now. As they came closer, she breathed a sigh of relief to see a man in ragged clothing sitting on a low cot. "Lucius Malfoy," she said loudly and the man stirred. "You are being transferred to the new prison in London."

Slowly, almost painfully it seemed, Lucius got to his feet. "Whatever for?" he said insolently. "It's fine here." He sneered at Hermione.

Hermione bit her lip and looked over to the three who had followed her. The two men still had impassive faces, but the woman was looking over Lucius. "He looks far too healthy," was her only comment.

Hermione blinked and bit her tongue. If this was healthy, she thought, then I don't want to know where Lucius is being transferred to. With a heavy heart, she handed opened the gate of the cell. Immediately, one of the men cast a Stupefy on Lucius (she could see that he too had an altered wand).

As they walked back outside, Hermione asked, "Would you three like to stay for some lunch?"

Almost as one they shook their heads.

"This was a business visit," the woman explained as they loaded Lucius's limp body onto the small boat. "We are on a tight schedule."

A tight schedule for what? Hermione wanted to ask. "It was very informative speaking to you," she said, with a smile that was almost genuine.

The woman gave her a faint smile in return as the boat pushed off the pier.

I'm sorry, Hermione thought as she watched it depart. I'm sorry, Lucius. Her hand automatically came up to touch her mouth and then she jerked it away as if it burned her. Don't be insane, she told herself.

Don't be insane.

-

In the days following Lucius's incarceration in the London prison, Hermione busied herself with looking after prisoners. She felt helpless to do anything since her attempt to help had only put them in deeper strife. In almost desperation, she wandered over to Minimum Security and to Rebecca Wang's cell. That young girl who was barely a woman but had been a Death Eater, Hermione told herself savagely, had intrigued her on the first day.

When she got there, she found the girl sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Isn't it cold?" was Hermione's first comment, blurted out.

The girl look up, her eyes barely registering surprise. "Not particularly," she said quietly.

"How have you been finding the conditions recently?" Hermione asked, determined to make this a business visit.

Rebecca shrugged. "Tolerable? Liveable? Better than before, certainly."

Hermione had the urge to strangle the ungrateful brat.

"But surely that isn't why you came?" Rebecca asked.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. What came out when she spoke surprised even herself. "What do you know about China's old methods of controlling Dementors?"

Rebecca's dark eyes gleamed but she never got off the floor. Her eyes wandered everywhere, only occasionally landing on Hermione. When they did, Hermione got the distinct sensation of cold sliding down her spine. Those eyes glittered. "What makes you think I know anything?"

Hermione wasn't sure, but she couldn't admit that. Besides, it couldn't hurt to ask. "Because you come from that country."

"Good response," Rebecca said slowly. "Not good enough. Surely you weren't about to say: Because you're Chinese, were you? That would have been a gross generalisation."

Of course not, Hermione told herself, but she wasn't sure. "No, I wasn't about to say that."

"Good," Rebecca said, suddenly getting off the floor. She went over to stand by the bars. "Because if you did, then I would be furious."

Hermione resisted the urge to ask her what she could do, even if she was furious, but then decided she didn't really want to know. What if she could do something?

"My parents knew something," Rebecca suddenly said dreamily. "But they never told me. They were killed by my comrades even though they were supporters!" She let out a high pitched giggle. "Ooops, I wasn't supposed to use that word." She lowered her voice. "It's unpatriotic to England." Her eyes narrowed. "But I'm not English, am I? I'll always be Chinese - yellow trash - to them, regardless of what is on my arm and what I do."

With a start, Hermione realised the girl was insane, or close to becoming it. Rebecca was ranting now in incoherent sentences and Hermione backed away until she was out of Minimum Security altogether. The shrill shrieks could still be heard at the door but as she shut it, it deadened the noise.

She was pale. Rebecca's parents were tortured by Death Eaters and they supposedly knew how to control Dementors? That couldn't be good news.

-

Taking another leave of absence wasn't particularly a wise idea, Hermione knew, but she didn't particularly care at this moment. It wasn't as though Azkaban couldn't run smoothly without her.

Almost everybody she had tried to contact from the Voldemort Wars seemed to have disappeared or been branded a traitor. Some seemed to have moved abroad and then disappeared. Others had simply disappeared from everyday life without a trace. Finally, out of desperation, she had written to Padma Patil. She had gotten to know the girl relatively well during her seventh year. And besides, she was the only one who Hermione knew, trusted, thought could help and who wasn't in prison or gone.

To her surprise, within a day her owl came back bearing a return letter. Padma's letter had been terse, but she mentioned that she was working for the Department of History in the Ministry. Hermione wondered whether she could help in the search for the elusive old Chinese way of controlling Dementors. She suspected that they were being used for the new prison and perhaps for more sinister purposes.

Not bothering with a reply, Hermione left immediately.

Arriving at the Ministry three hours later, Hermione deliberately cast a 'do not notice' spell on herself and loitered around the exit. She didn't notice anything unusual, except for the strange amount of Ministry propaganda posters pinned onto walls. She could have sworn that they hadn't been there the last time she was here, but wasn't sure. One of them caught her eye. Report dissidents and help create a lasting peace! Hermione shivered and decided not to read any more posters. She knew enough of what was going on without needing such... obvious evidence. Two hours of incredibly boring and brain deadening waiting later, she saw a familiar flash of long, black hair. She removed the spell and hurried over to the other woman.

"Padma!" she exclaimed, when she was within earshot. "Imagine bumping to you here! I had just come up to buy some Muggle things and was thinking of sending you an owl, asking if I could visit."

Padma's face, which had been hostile at first, slowly thawed and finally a smile emerged. "Hermione?" she asked. "It's been so long." She glanced around and Hermione had the distinct impression Padma thought that she was being watched. "Shall we go and have some coffee?"

Hermione nodded. "That will be lovely. We could catch up."

"I'd like that," Padma said as she led the way to Diagon Alley. Once they were inside, she walked towards a small café, tucked away. "Here looks nice."

They sat down and ordered coffee from the waiter.

"Now," Padma said, "would you care to tell me the real reason you are here, Hermione?" Her words were pointed. "Nobody wanders around the Ministry exit without good reason. You don't even have any Muggle shopping bags."

She was good, Hermione thought with admiration. "I wanted to see you about some history."

Padma raised an eyebrow. "Surely that could be discussed by owl."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm afraid not." She leaned closer. "I would like to see your records on Chinese magic."

By Padma's reaction, Hermione thought that she must have said something else. There was no way that those innocuous words could elicit that kind of recoiling. Finally, Padma closed her eyes and leaned backwards. When she opened them again, she stared at Hermione. "I should have known you'd find about that. But surely you'd be more discreet?"

Hermione smiled despite herself. "Somebody once told me that discretion wasn't given to Gryffindors." That somebody had been Lucius.

Padma smiled too but it was soon wiped from her face. "I'm sorry," she said, with a touch of frost in her tone. "Those records were expunged."

"They were wiped?" Hermione said incredulously. "But nobody wipes historical records. It's foolish."

Tilting her head, Padma looked at her in surprise. "You didn't know?"

"Obviously not," Hermione said. "So they're gone? But I need to see them..." she trailed off. It was probably a hopeless quest anyway, she told herself. The Ministry would have caught me and sent me to a cosy cell with Ron and Lucius.

"I thought you knew..." Padma murmured. "Well, I knew there had to be a good reason for them to be wiped." She raised her eyebrows. "I would have never thought you'd be involved though, Hermione." She let out a long breath as her gaze flitted around. Obviously, she caught nothing suspicious as she looked back at Hermione and continued talking. "The Ministry's unhealthy nowadays."

Hermione jumped at Padma's echo of Ron's words.

Padma looked at her curiously and sipped her coffee. "I would help you," she said apologetically, "but asking around has become the quickest route to a treason sentence. In fact, I shouldn't be here talking to you right now." She reached for her purse and grabbed a handful of Galleons. Dumping them on the table, she stood up. "Hopefully I'll see you around, Hermione. In better times."

And just like that, she left. Hermione watched after the departing figure, clad in black Ministry robes and wondered why the Ministry had deleted the records.