The Minister's Daughter

Disclaimer:

Unfortunately, not mine. Not even the plot.

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1. Extra Security

On a sunny summer day, a group of news-craving photographers were blocking the entrance to the British Library. The reason... twenty-year old Hermione Granger, the Prime Minister's daughter, had attended a special ceremony to present a large donation of children's books made by her father.

The brown haired, brown eyed girl walked to the luxury car waiting for her, escorted by her two personal MI6 guards amidst the cameras' blinding flashes. Hermione, however, was used to all that.

Her father had become the UK's Prime Minister when she was just 14 years old. Even before that, her father had always been a public figure in the world of politics. Since her mother died when she was ten, Hermione had to step up and take the place her mother would have once she became of age.

Charity events, art exhibits, formal dinners, special events at Buckingham Palace, among other highly important events were usual for her. She was used to the protocol of the royal family and the bureaucracy of the government.

Always surrounded by at least a couple of secret agents, she had grown up in the public's eye. Her father was a conservative man and had always tried to pass his old-fashioned ideas to his daughter. Hermione, however, was more open minded than he, but the love she felt for her father had always kept her from holding discussions around those topics with him.

She had always tried to please him within her possibilities. She had attended the boarding school of his choice. Even now that she was a student at Oxford University, she was enrolled in Political Sciences, as her father always dreamed. Hermione deeply admired her father's passion for his work, putting all of his heart in what he did.

After she climbed into the backseat, Katherine Williams and Maurice Parker, her two personal guards, got in the car with her. Kath, as Hermione called her, in the backseat with her and Maurice in the front along with the driver.

As the car sped towards Number 10 Downing Street, a smile appeared on Hermione's face. She was anxiously waiting for the next two days to fly away as fast as possible. For the first time since her father had become the Prime Minister, Hermione was going to take a real vacation.

To her, all those summers spent at the country house of Chequers in Buckinghamshire did not qualify as vacations. She longed for the normal life a regular citizen would enjoy. Being under her father and his team of guards' surveillance was no fun at all.

She was never allowed to do anything too dangerous, too risky or too compromising. She had an image to protect, her father always reminded her, and with that came specific responsibilities.

Still, even when she was surrounded by people all day long, she couldn't help feeling a bit lonely.

Her father didn't have much time to spend with her. On a few occasions, she had accompanied him to his diplomatic trips, but he was always so busy attending important meetings. Besides, the trips weren't as fun as one could guess. After all, how much can you really get to know a city from a hotel's balcony?

In two days time, she was to accompany her father in another one of these diplomatic trips abroad. This time, however, it was different. For the first time in her life she'd be visiting America, the new world. Both she and her father would have three days full of special events to attend, of course.

But her father had promised that after those events were finished, she'd be allowed to have a week and a half for her own in the foreign country. The first two days of the trip were to be spent in Washington, D.C., the nation's capital. After that, they were due in New York City to be part of the grand opening of an art exhibit of British painters and sculptors in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Once the event was finished, the Minister would be returning to London while Hermione would be staying back on her own - meaning with Katherine and Maurice. Ms. Warrington, Hermione's chaperon, was to stay at her side as well.

To Hermione that was as much liberty as she could get. Usually, when traveling aboard a team of agents would escort her besides the usual dozen people, agents and staff, which were always present.

As the car parked right in front of Number 10, Hermione quickly got out and walked into the building. She headed to her father's office so he could see she was back safe and sound. Without knocking, she opened the door and peeked inside.

Her father was revising some documents along with his personal secretary. Noticing that the door had been opened, he turned in that direction to find the smiling face of his daughter. She blew him a kiss and waved at him. A warm smile greeted her back. She then closed the door and went straight to her bedroom.

Grabbing hold of one of the many New York City traveling guides she had bought, she jumped in bed, laid flat in her stomach, and started flipping through the pages. She had read those guides quite a few times; she already knew them by heart.

Hermione was more than anxious to get to the American nation and see with her own eyes all those interesting places.

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Downstairs, the Prime Minister was having doubts about their upcoming trip. In the last few weeks, several attacks had been taking place in the Middle East. Even when the incidents didn't seem to be related to the English Kingdom, in every single attack British citizens had ended up injured.

Reporters, tourists, contractors, or regular citizens always showed up among the casualties. Their presence at the area where the attack had taken place appeared to be coincidence, but that didn't satisfy the Minister.

"We need to do something, Thompson," said the Minister to his secretary. "I can't take my daughter onto foreign soil without the warranty of her safety."

"Our agents are quite capable, sir," Thompson replied. "Besides, we will make use of our best people to escort you as we always do."

Richard Granger started pacing around his office. "I know that Thompson. I trust the capability of our agents, but I have this feeling..."

"What if we cancel the trip, sir?" suggested Thompson.

Mr. Granger seemed to give it some thought, but he immediately shook his head in denial. "Can't do that! You know I am to attend a couple of highly important meetings that may even help us figure out a solution to all this... Middle East problem. Besides," he added turning to face his secretary. "It's not a good thing to cancel such a trip at this point. It'd seem as an affront to the American President."

As if having a sudden idea, the secretary stood up. "We could ask for assistance from the President. He could lend us some of his agents."

"Of course not!" quickly spat Mr. Granger. "I would never ask for this type of help to another ruler. If we are to have extra security, it has to be from our own people. I certainly will not let the President think we can't take care of ourselves."

"Yes, yes, sir," agreed Thompson apologetically, sorry to have suggested such idea. "You're right, sir. Of course!"

The Minister continued to pace around the room, rubbing his hands desperately, trying to force his mind into a way of solving the matter.

"We could..." started Thompson, afraid to open his mouth again. "Not take Ms. Granger along."

With a saddened look in his face, Mr. Granger stared at the wall. "I have thought about that, but I know how excited she is about this trip. I wouldn't fancy telling her she is not to come."

Suddenly, his face illuminated as he thought of something. "Well...I could try... that," he whispered, talking to himself. The secretary looked questioningly at him, but was startled when Mr. Granger turned around and walked to his desk. "Give me a few minutes, Thompson."

Thompson, shocked for the sudden change of attitude, didn't move but his eyes remained focused on the Minister's face.

"Thompson!" called the Minister. "Would you mind?"

Hurriedly, the secretary walked to the door. "I'll... I'll be outside, sir," he said. Then, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Mr. Granger waited for the door to be closed. Then, he sat down on his high upholstered chair. Slowly, he placed his right hand over the inner pocket of his black coat as if trying to gather all of his courage.

Seconds later, he pulled open his coat and took a silver ring out of his inner pocket. The ring held together two little silver keys. The Minister stared at the keys for a while. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the left side of his desk.

Using one of the keys, he unlocked the bottommost drawer. Several folders labeled "Top Secret" or "Highly Confidential" lay within. He took them out and placed them aside. With a look of uncertainty, as if doubting himself, his eyes focused on the drawer's wooden bottom.

His hand reached to it and easily pulled it out to reveal a double bottom. Slowly, he pulled out a black metal lock box from the drawer's secret hiding place. The second key unlocked the metal box. Inside it, there was a large brown envelope with a label attached to it.

"USE ONLY IN CASE OF EMERGENCY."

Taking a look around, as if checking nobody was watching, he opened the envelope. Out came a single piece of paper with a few lines written. Mr. Granger's eyes run over them several times, trying to take in every word.

"It doesn't seem too complicated," he thought.

He passed a hand over his perfectly combed brown hair, the same shade as Hermione's. Holding the paper firmly in his hands, he took a couple deep breaths and turned his face towards the far corner of his office.

His eyes laid on an old oil painting that hung from the wall. That particular painting, which the Minister thought was rather ugly, had been in that office for ages. Several previous Ministers had tried to get rid of it, but there had been no human power able to take that painting off the wall.

Taking a last look at the paper in his hands, the Prime Minister stood up and, very slowly, walked towards the old painting. A little froglike man, wearing a long silver wig, stared back at him. Indeed, the Minister had felt as if the man in the painting actually followed his movements with his eyes. But... paintings don't do that, right?

Feeling he was acting against his better judgment, Mr. Granger cast a last look around, confirming he was alone in his office. Finally, he took a deep breath and, very softly, spoke.

"Uh, excuse me?" Mr. Granger said. "I'd like a word... with the Minister of... Magic?" As he was saying that, his mind couldn't help to notice how stupidly embarrassing it would be if anybody were to see him talking to a painting.

At first, Mr. Granger thought it had either not worked or the paper was, as he had suspected before, a joke, for the man in the painting remained silent for a while. Suddenly, Mr. Granger froze as he realized the froglike man had just blinked. Then, a crisp decisive voice was heard.

"The Minister's just finishing up a meeting with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. He should come by your office as soon as the meeting adjourns," the man in the painting said, as if eh had been reading a prepared statement.

Mr. Granger's mind took a couple of minutes to process that information as several questions popped in as well. "He does exist? Disposal of dangerous creatures? My office!?"

His mind finally slowed down and ordered his mouth to open and generate a few words.

"Good..." he said softly, not sure if in fact it was that good. "Thank you." He finally added, perplexed to see that not only the Minister of Magic did actually existed, but also that the painting had replied to him.

To increase his astonishment, the little man bowed his head before resuming his previous statue-like pose.

Passing a hand through his sweaty forehead, Mr. Granger thought "I sure need a few days off."

...........................................

About ten minutes after arranging a meeting with someone he had always doubted existed in the weirdest way imaginable, something equally amazing happened. The office's fireplace ignited on its own. The flames, however, were a bright shade of green.

Mr. Granger stared at the flames holding tight the arms of his upholstered chair, where he was sitting. Seconds later, a tall, redheaded man, dressed in a dark green suit with a matching green cloak over his shoulders walked out of the fireplace. A chubby man was trailing behind him.

"Prime Minister!" greeted the redhead man as he walked towards the handsome desk, his hand stretched out. "What a pleasure to meet you! Arthur Weasley at your service," he said introducing himself. After Mr. Granger shook his hand, speechless, Mr. Weasley introduced his companion. "Mr. Carl Leland, my assistant." The alluded raised the pointed hat that had been covering his balding head as he greeted.

"So," said Mr. Weasley, breaking the silence. "A received a message saying you wanted to see me."

Clearing his throat loudly, Mr. Granger spoke for the first time since the arrival of the two men before him. "Uh, yes! I do," he beckoned the two men to sit in the chairs in front of his desk. "I wonder if... you could be of some assistance in a very sensitive matter."

Once he was able to regain himself, Mr. Granger explained the situation and the importance of the trip abroad he and his daughter were to take in a couple of days. "If you're a father, then you must understand that my daughter's safety is my highest priority."

"Certainly," Mr. Weasley replied. "I'm the proud father of seven wonderful children and can totally understand your concern."

"Seven?" thought Mr. Granger amazed. Pushing that thought aside, he forced his mind to focus. "You think you could provide some extra security for my daughter, then?"

"Of course! We'll be honored to help and I know the right man for the job."

"A... one man?" asked Mr. Granger surprised. "I was mostly thinking about a team of people."

"Oh no!" Mr. Weasley replied nonchalantly. "Not necessary. My Auror is worth one hundred men."

"Auror?" wondered Mr. Granger.

"What you could call a highly specialized secret agent," added Leland quickly.

"I see. And, is this... Auror of yours trustworthy?"

"Totally!" quickly replied Mr. Weasley. "The best there is. He singled-handedly defeated the most powerful dark wizard there's ever been when he was seventeen."

Once again, a rain of questions flooded the Prime Minister's mind. But this time he had a feeling that told him it was best not to know. "Aright, then," he said after a while. "How can I contact him?"

"I will talk to him personally tonight to fill him in, but... I should also give you this..." Then facing Leland, we asked his assistant, "Got a spare bit of parchment?"

Leland quickly pulled out a small piece of parchment and handed it to Mr. Weasley, who, taking his wand out, tapped the parchment with it. Mr. Granger watched amazed at the words than suddenly appeared in it.

"His name is Harry Potter," he said as he extended the parchment towards Mr. Granger. "And that's his phony number."

Quickly, Leland leaned towards Mr. Weasley and whispered something in his ear as Mr. Granger stared at them with his mouth hanging open.

"I mean, his phone number," Mr. Weasley corrected. "You know, one of those you muggles carry around in your pockets."

"Oh! A mobile phone?" said Mr. Granger.

"Yeah, yeah. One of those."

"Just one more thing," added Mr. Granger as he stood up. "Your man is not to interfere unless needed. Otherwise, he's not to make contact with my daughter."

"Of course, Minister," said Mr. Weasley as he also stood up as well. "I understand. Leland..." he said talking to his assistant. "Hand me a galleon."

"A galleon, sir?" asked Leland questioningly.

"Yes, Leland. A galleon."

Mr. Granger looked at the pair curios as to what a galleon could be. He was relieved to see that Leland was handing Mr. Weasley a gold coin. Taking his wand out once more, Mr. Weasley tapped the coin with in. Slowly, the coin hovered for a second in midair.

The Prime Minister's eyes grew wide open and his jaw felt to the floor as he saw the gold coin gradually turning into a shiny gold necklace with a small heart pendant hanging from it.

When the galleon-turned-into-necklace fell back onto Mr. Weasley's hand, he gave it one last tap. Immediately, a tiny white stone appeared in the center of the golden heart. Finally, he handed it to Mr. Granger.

"Make sure your daughter wears this all the time," he said as if turning coins into something else were the most common thing.

Mr. Granger, amazed by the bit of magic he had just witnessed, took the necklace in his open hand, half expecting it to explode at any moment. "Wh... what's this?" he managed to say.

"Oh!" said Mr. Weasley, realizing he had forgotten to explain that bit to the Prime Minister. "It's a locator. We will be able to spot Ms. Granger's location at any time as long as she's wearing it."

Mr. Granger stared at the necklace for a while, not sure whether he should actually have Hermione wear it. He sighed deeply, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Fine."

"Good!" said Mr. Weasley cheerfully. "Once again, a real honor Minister," he said furiously shaking the Prime Minister's hand. Once he let go, Mr. Weasley headed to the fireplace.

With hurried steps, Leland got there first, quickly throwing Floo powder into the fireplace. Saying good bye with a solemn bow of his head, Leland stepped into the green flames and disappeared out of sight.

"We'll be in contact," said Mr. Weasley before following Leland into the depths of the green flames.

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The following day seemed to fly away as last minute details were taken care of. Finally, the hour to go had arrived. Hermione's luggage had been ready for almost three days, but at the last minute, she had decided to add a couple of books and a few extra items.

"What do you need so many books for?" asked her father as he walked into her room.

"To read, of course," she said trying to stuff them all in one book bag. "It's going to be a long flight," she reminded him.

The Minister smiled warmly at his daughter. Placing a hand over his pocket, he felt the necklace he was supposed to give her. "Sweetheart," he said sitting down at her bed and pulling her hand to make her sit beside him. "There's something I've been meaning to give you."

With a curios look on her face, she shifted around in her bed so she could face her father.

The previous night, Mr. Granger had forced his brain to come up with a good excuse for giving her a necklace when it wasn't her birthday or any other special day. He had never been the kind of father who would shower her daughter with presents, other than at her birthdays or Christmas, and he didn't want her to suspect a thing.

Besides he needed to make sure that she would always wear the necklace. It wouldn't help much if she'd put it away in a jewelry box. Finally, a brilliant idea, or at least he thought it was brilliant, came to him.

"I know how much you've missed your mum since she lefts us. Believe me, I miss her too," he said in a soft voice. "That's why I decided to give you something very special." His voice was breaking up a bit, suddenly feeling the weight of the big lie he was about to tell her.

Hermione thought that his shaking voice was due to how much he missed his wife. Trying to comfort him at the same time she sought comfort for herself, she placed a hand over his.

Pulling the necklace out of his pocket, he extended it out to her. "I want you to have this," he said, his voice barely audible. "It was... your mum's," he said, not looking at her. "She was quite fond of it."

Hermione looked at the jewel in her hand and tried to remember her mother wearing it, but she couldn't find one image in her memories of that necklace. Mr. Granger quickly saw the curious look in her face and guessed what was going through his daughter's mind.

"She only used to wear it on special occasions," he quickly added. "You may not even remember it. She just wanted to make sure it would last until you were old enough to have it. She always thought of giving it to you some day."

Mr. Granger's words seemed to convince Hermione. With a small smile on her face, she admired the necklace. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, and the tiny stone in the little heart shined so intensely. Hermione had never seen something shine like that before. With tenderness, she brought the necklace up to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the tiny heart.

Her father sighed, reminding himself that this was for Hermione's safety, while silently asking his wife for forgiveness. Lovingly, he took the necklace from her hands and motioned her to turn around.

Hermione did it and seconds later she felt the cool gold necklace touching her skin. She looked down at it. Quickly, she stood up and went to the mirror to have a better look. She smiled as she noticed how the stone shined with the sunlight that came through her window.

Standing up, her father walked to the door. "You ready, then?" he asked trying to get her attention away from the mirror. "We'll be leaving in ten minutes."

Hermione nodded happily. "I'll be right down," she said. She took one last look at her reflection. "Well mum," she whispered. "Let's see what new things await us in the new world."