Dramatis Personae

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Chapter 4

By Diocletian

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August 22, 2005: First Day of the ICW World Summit

Hermione's short heels clicked rhythmically against the floor as she made her way down a corridor at the Ministry of Magic. She had to stop by her office that morning to pick up some proposals and a list of the national limitation laws before she could begin making her way to the long-awaited International Confederation of Wizards World Summit. The weeklong gathering was starting that very day in an enormous conference complex that the Ministry had spent the last 18 months constructing.

Protective of their newest building and the people scheduled to be in it, the Ministry had set up some of the tightest security measures they had for this Summit and the slightest breach in protocol was to be dealt with swiftly and severely. Everybody who was allowed to be in the building, from the most prominent Head of Department to the lowliest janitor, would have to check in at a security point. They had to have special security passes and extra identification with them to even get in. The guards and Aurors present at the security points had lists upon lists of names, including when each of those people were supposed to be in the building, when they were supposed to leave, and where they were supposed to be while they were there. Not a toe was to be permitted out of line.

After grabbing the files she needed, Hermione made sure she had her security pass, left the Department of International Magical Co-operation offices and headed for one of the many lifts down to the Atrium. Several fellow delegates who were also on their way to the Summit, and at least a dozen inter-departmental memos, followed her as she stepped into the lift. It was a busy day at the Ministry today.

Impatiently tapping her foot as the lift descended, Hermione reflected on the annoyance that was the non-apparition field surrounding the Summit building. She had to take one of the fireplaces in the Atrium and floo her way there and pray that the trip wouldn't get her clothes too dirty. She realized, of course, that the field was a necessary precaution, but that didn't mean she couldn't still be aggravated.

The lift passed right by Level Six without a pause, but when they reached Level Seven, they shuddered to a halt. Several of the violet memos flew out, a couple more flew in and two men stepped on to the lift. Darius Melforth, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, had his nose stuck in a thick binder and didn't appear to have noticed the fact that there was anybody aside from himself in the lift. Beside him, however, Marcus Flint, who was now the Junior Deputy Head of the DMGS, was examining the delegates surrounding him with an absent expression on his face.

When his eyes finally came to rest on Hermione, her nose twitched in irritation. She only just managed to hold back a scowl when Flint smiled at her in an amused fashion and turned away. Flint, the youngest Junior Deputy working at the Ministry aside from Ron, had been the JD Head of his Department for a year now, and Hermione still couldn't figure out how he gotten the job in the first place. Daddy's money probably, because no one in their right mind would hire him for his skills and work-habits, not without being well compensated for it.

Ron on the other hand, Hermione thought with a small smile on her face as she looked down at the new diamond ring shimmering on her left hand, was actually a half-decent worker. She had had her doubts when he had first told her, just before his twentieth birthday, that he was quitting his Auror training in favor of spending his days behind a desk. He had never shown himself to be very... interested in the paperwork aspect of things, and she was scared that he might become bored very quickly with such a job. But he had proven himself extremely adept at reading reports and filling out incident forms when they were about something that interested him, especially with the right incentives. If he was permitted to view the crime scene, see evidence and suspects first-hand (and play loud music while finishing the paperwork), then he did a fantastic job. Plus, there was the money, of course. He had promised himself, after the way that he had grown up, that he would never live in poverty again. It had transformed him from the lazy boy he'd been at Hogwarts, who had never really seen what was in it for him, into a very determined worker who was doing his best to support himself and his future family interests.

Hermione sighed when Flint looked back at her, that oily smile of his again plastered across his face. When the lift arrived at the Atrium, Hermione exited quickly, pushing past him in a hurry to get away. She had only gone a few steps, however, when she heard her name being called. Turning impatiently, Hermione saw Ginny Weasley smile widely at her as she waited for a nearby lift, unable to wave due to the medium-sized, clear plastic case she was carrying.

Upon closer inspection, Hermione could see that the case in her friend's hands contained a rack of test tubes, each holding an apparently different chemical substance. The sign pasted to the top of the case, written in large block letters, read: "Property of the Department of Mysteries, SO KEEP YOUR GRUBBY PAWS OUT OF IT!"

"What have you got there, Gin?" Hermione asked curiously, trying to get a better look at the unlabelled contents of the test tubes. Ginny pulled away slightly and shook her head.

"Nuh uh, Ms. Granger," she said, attempting to blow away a bit of red hair that had fallen from her messy bun into her face. "You is nosing where your nose ain't welcome."

Hermione tried to look indignant. "Well, ex-CUUUSSE me!" she replied snootily. Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing, but a wide grin split across her face. "Forgive me for breathing!"

Ginny shook her head and shifted the box slightly to get a better grip on it. "That's a good try, Hermione," she admitted. "But I'm still not going to tell you what this stuff is. It's Unspeakable business. And aside from that, I don't personally know myself."

Hermione pouted childishly and stuck out her tongue and they both chuckled. The lift Ginny was waiting for stopped behind her with a "ding!" and the grille was pulled open. Ginny frowned slightly. "Well, that's my cue," she said unhappily. "I've got to get back to work. Are you headed over to the Summit?" Hermione nodded. "Well, have fun then. Colin and I are supposed to be over there tomorrow on lap dog duty for Ruttledge, so maybe I'll see you then. Bye!" Ginny grinned over her shoulder at Hermione, who waved a bit and walked over towards the Atrium fireplaces as the redhead entered the lift and disappeared in the direction of Level One, the Department of Mysteries.

The case Ginny was carrying did indeed contain a rack of test tubes. And at the moment, the contents of those test tubes were top secret. Each one contained a small sample of each of the chemicals that the muggle, Dr. Ruben Frump, had been trying to sell to Theodore Nott that night in the Genesis Café. The Unspeakables had been there that night because there had been a lot of talk in the shadier areas of the magical community about several instances of various, unidentified wizards smuggling restricted muggle goods into the wizarding world. The DMLE had been informed and then the DM had discovered that the smuggled goods were chemicals of some sort and had been obligated to step in and get a hold of a sample of said chemicals. It was very important for the Ministry to find out what materials people were sneaking beneath their very noses for such a long time. So she was transporting these specimens from the criminal evidence depository to the Department of Mysteries for testing.

Ginny had only managed to convince the Head of the Department of Mysteries, a 46-year-old man named Clifford Ruttledge, that she was fit for work again (after her "accident") that morning. It had been harder than she would have thought it would be, but she was back now and had thrown herself headfirst into the first task she had come across, which had turned out to be retrieving chemical samples.

Glancing down at the case she carried as the elevator slowly ascended towards the DM, Ginny wondered idly what the chemicals were. No one had had the chance to examine them yet, so at the moment they didn't know. Mentally shrugging, she stepped out of the elevator as it reached Level One, taking the mystery chemicals with her.

Going to the end of the corridor, she stepped into the door that Harry had led them into more than nine years ago, the night Sirius had died. Leaving the door she had come through open, she now faced a circular room full of more doors. She muttered a password under her breath and one of the other doors, the third one on her right, flashed green once. Walking over to it, she opened that door before turning back and shutting the first one. Then she stepped into the second door and closed it behind her, hearing the circular room begin to turn behind her when she did.

Now inside the new room, she looked around briefly and sniffed. It was white, stuffy and sterilized. Very impersonal and professional. She didn't like it at all. A pair of people wearing lab-coats were bickering as Ginny came in, but the argument ceased when they saw the case she carried.

The older of the two, a rather plump man named Archibald Croaker, quickly pulled on a pair of latex gloves and took the case from Ginny's hands. Ginny, who had already been wearing gloves, pulled a shrunken clipboard out of her robe pocket and magically returned it to normal size, pulling a quill out from behind her ear as she did.

"Sign this for me, if you would, Archie," she requested as she handed him the quill and clipboard when he placed the chemical case gingerly down onto the stainless counter. "There, there, aaanndd there."

Croaker shook his head as he scrawled. "Why is it always three?" he asked absently. "I really don't like threes. I mean, it never fails. You sign office forms in three places, no matter what it's about. You break a glass, you may a well throw two more down beside it, because you'll break them within a week anyway. You tell your wife 'One kid and no more,' you go and get a vasectomy after she gets pregnant, just to be absolutely certain it'll never happen again, and then she has the nerve to go and have triplets."

Ginny smiled as Archie gave her back the clipboard. "Well, that's all for the moment, but when you identify each of the chemicals, I'll need you to sign some other stuff." She shrank the clipboard once again and stuffed it into her pocket. "How are the boys, anyway?"

Archie rolled his eyes. "Brian and Todd are both playing Quidditch once school starts again and Jordan got the letter last week saying he made prefect. Mary and I are very proud," he said automatically.

"Well, that's lovely," Ginny replied, grinning. "I played Quidditch in school too, you know. The whole family did. Two of my brothers were offered positions on league teams when they graduated. Love the game."

She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "Now, if I come back in at the end of the day, will you know what each of these chemicals are?" Archie nodded. "Good man. I'll see you then." Ginny leaned around the man slightly to glance at the silent witch standing behind him. "It's good to see you again, Nadia," she said kindly to the shy assistant. Nadia nodded and Ginny turned and walked out the door.

Archie turned to his assistant. "Well, put on your gloves. We've got work to do."

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It was late when Hermione finally came home after her first day at the Summit. It had mostly been an introduction for the visiting delegates and representatives, but it had been a busy day just the same. She was content, though mentally exhausted, and would have liked nothing more than to snuggle under her cool bedcovers and go to sleep. Stepping through the front door, she saw that the small, rather picturesque house she shared with Ron outside Brighton was dark. Figuring that he was already in bed, she did her best to be quiet. Tossing her keys onto the kitchen counter and shedding her cloak with a sigh of relief, Hermione made her way towards their bedroom to change. She was passing by the home office that she and Ron shared when they had to finish work outside of the workplace when she noticed that the house wasn't entirely dark after all.

In the back corner of the living room, where the lamplight wasn't visible from the front of the house, Ron sat on his worn and comfortable easy-chair, flipping thoughtfully through a file full of typewritten pages and full-color photos. Hearing Hermione walk in, he looked up and smiled slightly in greeting before going back to the sheets in his hands. Curious, Hermione went over to stand behind his chair and, trying not to appear as though she had an ulterior motive, gently started rubbing his shoulders as she peered at the file in his hands.

"What are you working on?" she asked innocently as Ron closed his eyes, sighing in contentment while she massaged his sore shoulder muscles.

"Just some bizarre case file Richards told me to look over," he answered. "I'm supposed to show up at the Summit for a meeting tomorrow morning, so I was looking through a bunch of my papers anyway and I figured I'd look this over while I was at it." He paused, moaning slightly as Hermione hit a particularly sensitive spot near his neck. "It's just some weirdo with strange tattoo issues, though. It's really nothing," he added nonchalantly.

"If it were 'nothing,'" Hermione observed, "you would be in bed already."

Ron rolled his eyes at her logic. "Your beauty is surpassed only by your brilliance," he said mockingly. Hermione rolled her eyes right back at him.

Ron let himself relax into her touch for another few moments before reluctantly pulling away and turning to face her. "Have you ever heard of the 'Questor Society'?" he asked abruptly.

Hermione blinked, startled. "That was right out of the blue," she commented. Ron merely nodded and continued to watch her, waiting for an answer. "Well, um, I've never heard of the Questor *Society*, per se," she answered after a moment. "But the word 'Questor' is from Ancient Rome. It was used to describe a certain group of people. The Questors were like judges, of a sort. Accusers. They were generally very well-placed in Society; they had high positions, lots of respect. Generally, they considered themselves to be better than anybody who wasn't one of them."

She stopped then, and Ron could tell she was barely able to hold back from quoting an extensive list of historical documents and references he should look into. He was thankful she had restrained herself. He continued to gaze at her for a moment, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Huh," he said at last. "Interesting. Thanks."

Hermione raised an eyebrow curiously, but Ron waved her off. "It's just something Darcie said at work a couple days ago. But like I said: It's nothing."

Hermione decided her fiancé needed some sort of distraction. She smiled seductively at him and reached over to shut his file, tossing it onto a nearby coffee table. "Well, then, Mr. Weasley," she said playfully, unbuttoning the top two buttons on Ron's shirt. "If you're quite done, I think you need to do something to repay me for that lovely neck massage you've just received."

Ron smiled back at her and ran his fingers through her hair. "And however will I manage that, Miss Granger?"

"If you would accompany me to the bedroom," she said, walking airily back towards the hallway and throwing Ron a 'come hither' look over her shoulder, "I'll bet I could come up with a few ideas."

Ron stood and stalked after her playfully, trying to reach out and tickle her as she ran laughing into the next room, while the file lay forgotten on the table.

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Ron wasn't the only one puzzling over a file from work that night. Back in London at 215 Fairview Crescent, Ginny sat at her kitchen table nursing a bowl of Chocolate Almond ice cream and studying the list of chemicals Archie Croaker had given her earlier that evening while the radio blared from the counter. She recognized about half the items on the list, but she didn't have a clue what Theodore Nott would want with them. Ammonium, for example. What the hell would a former-Death Eater want with a constituent for cleaning solution?

Ginny sighed and ate another spoonful of ice cream. It didn't make any sense. Wizards didn't use muggle chemicals. They happily left that sort of business to the non-magic folk and stuck as closely to their dragon's blood and newt eye potions as they could. Pureblooded wizards especially, like Theodore Nott, whom Ginny clearly remembered had been on friendly terms with Draco Malfoy and his goons while they were in school and whose father had been a prominent Death Eater, normally looked down their noses at muggle "chemistry".

So what did Nott want with them? That was the real question.

Ginny was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Colin's bedroom door opening. She turned to see Colin's boyfriend, Douglas Kibble, walk out, tying the drawstring on his pajama pants. When he saw her, Dougie froze. He obviously hadn't known she was home.

Aside from being skinny, Dougie Kibble was immensely shy. He liked Ginny well enough, but he didn't relish the fact that she knew all of the gritty details about his relationship with Colin. He blushed a lot and was known to stutter when he was nervous. Ginny liked him and believed that her ever-enthusiastic friend Col was good for Dougie. But the look on Dougie's face when he saw Ginny looking at him as he tied his pants was very reminiscent of a deer caught in exceptionally bright headlights.

She chuckled quietly to herself and waved vaguely before ignoring him and going back to her files and ice cream. She had discovered from previous experiences that, when Dougie was stuck in an uncomfortable situation, he liked it best if he could go unnoticed until the situation was no longer considered a "situation" at all.

So Ginny ignored him and he tried to ignore her, continuing nervously into the bathroom to finish getting cleaned up. A few seconds after the bathroom door clicked shut, Colin emerged from his bedroom, clad in only an old t-shirt and a loose pair of boxers, and joined Ginny at the table, stealing her spoon, which was full of her ice cream. "How was work?" he asked with his mouth full. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Your manners are simply splendid there, darling," she commented sarcastically, taking her spoon back. She ate her own scoop of ice cream, savored it for a moment and swallowed it entirely before speaking again. "I mean, I thought you grew up with muggles, not wolves."

"I did," he said, getting up and going to the silverware drawer to grab his own spoon. "But Dennis, the utter epitome of a young, single, heterosexual male, just had such a bad influence on me. It was inevitable I was going to resort to bad manners eventually." He plunked back down into his chair again and dug his spoon into Ginny's ice cream. "Besides," he added. "It's just you."

Ginny snorted. "So I'm not worthy of having a polite roommate anymore, huh?"

Colin nodded enthusiastically, pleased that she seemed to have grasped the path of his banter so quickly. "That's basically it, yeah. See, you understand perfectly." He ducked as Ginny tried to attack him with her spoon and he caught sight of the papers lying beside the ice cream pint. "What are you working on, anyway?"

Ginny gave up on trying to stab her roommate with her spoon and ate some more ice cream. It was almost gone by this point. "The stuff Nott was trying to smuggle. Croaker identified it all for us this afternoon and I made a copy of the list before I handed it in." Colin's interest was piqued and he grabbed the file. "We still don't have a clue what he wanted with any of it though," she added.

Skimming through the list, Colin's brow furrowed. "Ammonia?" he asked. "Nitric acid, methane? What would a wizard want to do with this stuff?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Col, if we knew that, do you think I would have brought this file home and told you 'we still don't have a clue what he wanted with it'? I mean, really." Colin blushed, but remained indignant.

"Well, you don't have to be all snooty about it, you know," he replied, being at least as snooty (if not more so) as Ginny had just been. "I was only *asking*. It's not a crime." Ginny stuck her tongue out and put the cover on over the remaining bit of ice cream before putting it back in the freezer. "Look at you, sticking your tongue out. You're so juvenile," Colin observed. "Honestly, you're like a child."

Ginny glared at him. "And you're a spiteful bastard," she retorted. "It's almost amazing how mean you are. Especially to me."

Colin was about to reply when Dougie came out of the bathroom, fully dressed. Colin's face lit up as he grinned and Dougie smiled shyly back. Ginny felt suddenly uncomfortable in the presence of the glowing pair and got up from the table. Dougie must have seen something of what she was feeling on her face because he frowned and grabbed his shoes from where he had tossed them by the door earlier. "Well, I guess I should get ready to go home."

Ginny saw the flash of disappointment cross her roommate's face and gave a silent sigh. "No, don't worry, Doug," she said. "You and Colin stay in for while, do your thing, have a guy's night or whatever. I was just heading out anyway." She patted her list, lying on the table. "I'll leave this out for you to look through, if you want, Col." Colin nodded and Ginny could see the gratitude in his eyes for what she was doing. Clearing her throat and giving a brief grin, Ginny went to her room to change before heading out for the night.

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Twenty-some minutes later, she arrived outside Harry's apartment and knocked politely on his door. Hearing a voice call out "JUST A MINUTE!" and a small dog beginning to bark on the other side of the door, she waited patiently, tapping her foot and humming the tune of 'Only the Good Die Young.' After a few moments she heard the chain being pulled back and the dog stopped barking.

Ginny put on her most pathetic smile as Harry opened the door, a black and rust-coloured Yorkshire terrier in his arms. Brutus struggled excitedly to free himself from Harry's grasp and Harry put him down when he saw who it was outside the door. The tiny canine jumped and panted happily at Ginny's feet and she petted him on the head and scratched between his ears. She looked up at his owner as Brutus licked her hand.

"Hey there," she greeted. Harry smiled. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Hey," he replied, stepping back from the door to let her through. "You want to come in? I was just about to have a cup of tea if you'd care to join me."

Ginny gently nudged the dog forward and stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. "Sure. I'd love to. I've just been kicked out of my apartment for the night, so I may as well do something." Harry gave her a disbelieving look as he poured water for the kettle and Brutus followed him across the room. Ginny gave in. "Okay, okay. I volunteered to leave to give Colin and his boy-toy some alone time because I knew you would let me bum around and sleep on your couch if I asked you to."

Harry nodded now, convinced that this was the more truthful version of the story, and reached for some teabags to set out for when the water was done. "Feel free to spend the night on the couch," he said. "Anytime. It's a good couch, I'm sure you'll sleep fine. Besides, I know that if I try and be a gentleman and offer you the bed, you'll say no."

Ginny chuckled and fetched two mugs and a tin of biscuits from the cupboard. "Damn straight." She found what she was looking for and set it all down on the table. "Besides, we both know from experience that your bed is lumpy."

"I happen to like it the way it is."

For a few moments, there was an awkward silence as they both recalled a rainy night, about two years before, when two drunk friends had gone home together and done something stupid. They had woken up the next morning with pounding headaches, not to mention more than a little surprise about who they were next to, and made a vow that the occasion was never to be spoken of again (especially not within earshot of Ron).

Harry cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "Do you want mint or orange pekoe? I think I may have lemon stashed away somewhere, but those are the main choices."

Brutus wandered over and lay down on top of Ginny's feet. "Mint, please," she replied, not meeting Harry's eyes. Harry nodded, and quickly looked away from her so that she could not see the blush on his face.

"Not a problem."

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