Hero With A Thousand Faces

Chapter 13

Diz was walking so fast that Hermione had trouble keeping up. She really had her billow on, too - Hermione damn near tripped over the trailing edges of her cloak more than once. She had to wonder if they were in such a hurry so that Hermione would be too winded to ask any of the eight gajillion questions that were circling her brain at cruising altitude.

"So what did you..." she began, undaunted by their pace.

Diz cut her off. "Not here."

Hermione tried to muster some righteous indignation, or possibly some Chancelloresque haughtiness, but the grim surroundings were making her feel less like the guardian of the wizarding world's greatest secret and more like an incorrigible child being led to the headmaster's office. Azkaban was so horrible that words failed her, even inside her own head. The stone walls felt alive and organic, leaning towards her and reaching out with clammy, damp fingers to draw her through into their world of cold rock and moss. She hadn't seen any cells or chambers, for which she was profoundly grateful. She knew that it couldn't possibly be as bad as it had been in the old Dementor days - she didn't hear any screams of anguish, anyway - but it was still a dank, forbidding, remote hellhole of a place.

A place where she might conceivably spend the rest of her days, separated from her family, her friends, her work, and her husband. A lump rose in her throat and she fought it down. Diz seemed to be slowing. They turned a corner and Hermione saw a dead end ahead; a featureless wall without doors or seams. Diz waved her wand at it; a crack appeared in the stone and the door swung open. Diz stepped aside to let Hermione through.

She walked into a brightly lit, cheerful...living room. Her mouth hung open. It was an entire set of living quarters. Well decorated, spacious, and apparently equipped with every possibly amenity. She saw two D7 agents, their hoods pushed back off their unfamiliar faces, doing what looked like basic housekeeping chores. One of them had a flowered apron tied over his long, black robes as he washed the kitchen counters; the effect was hilariously jarring. Diz walked around her. "I hope you like it. You could be here awhile."

"What is this?"

"This is your secured quarters, Chancellor."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that."

"While I'm wearing this robe, I'll call you that, thanks."

"Aren't I under arrest?"

"Didn't you hear me? You're not a prisoner here. You are under our protection."

"And who are you, exactly? Harry told me you were a member of this mysterious Division 7 -- but what is that? How is it that you're even involved in this?"

Diz sighed. "We're intimately involved in anything to do with you. You are, in fact, our primary mission." She took a step closer. "We're your secret police, Chancellor."

Hermione stared at her for a few beats. "Secret police?"

"Correct."

"I have secret police?"

"As you see."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, that's why we don't call ourselves your totally-obvious police."

"But...I had no idea you even existed!"

"Good. That means we've been doing our jobs."

The dumb confusion borne of too many stressful conversations in a row sat on Hermione's head like a wet wool toboggan. "Does Sirius know about this?"

"He knows we exist, but not who any of us are." Diz motioned Hermione into a wing chair and sat down opposite. "Chancellor, there is an entire structure of which you are unaware and which is completely dedicated to preserving the security of your identity."

Hermione replayed those words to herself. "But not my personal safety."

Diz smiled, her lips a little tight. "No, not your personal safety. In fact, the two can sometimes be mutually exclusive."

Hermione nodded. "If an agent of D7 were to step in and save me from some kind of accidental harm, their very presence might compromise my identity."

"Exactly. It's an uncomfortable position to be in."

"The security of the Trivalion is more important than my safety. You don't have to apologize."

"I said it was uncomfortable, I didn't say I was sorry."

Hermione sat back. "So, do you...uh, watch me?" The thought made her exquisitely uneasy.

"Not really. Certain things are monitored. We have measures in place. But it's hardly round-the-clock surveillance, if that's what's worrying you."

"The only thing worrying me is how much the Master knows."

"That's what's worrying us, too. Right now, he doesn't know who you are."

"How can you be sure?" Diz looked away. Hermione sat up straighter. "You have someone inside the Circle, don't you?"

"Always." She sighed. "But he claims that his 'father' will tell him soon. He often talks about this 'father' figure; we're not really sure who he means. Any ideas?"

Hermione didn't know if she could tell Diz about Seth, or the Guardian, or anything relating to the Eternals. It wasn't exactly common knowledge, and it wasn't as if Diz could do anything about it even if she knew everything. On the other hand, what purpose would be served through secrecy? "I can't really discuss it," she said, trying to sound firm in her resolve.

"Is this person capable of revealing your identity?"

"I'm sure he is."

Diz was giving her a hard look. "And you still can't discuss it?"

"The Master is the real threat. His father doesn't care who I am, he has no interest in using this information against me or anyone else. It's the Master you should focus on."

Diz held her gaze for a few more moments, then nodded. "You're probably right."

Hermione was looking around, doing her best not to let her thoughts stray too far into the future. "How long will I be here?"

"The length of your stay will be determined by the degree to which you've managed to compromise your own security. Who, exactly, did you tell?"

"Don't you know already?"

"I have my suspicions, but all I know is that I was in the ID auditorium and then I got the summons to report here at once because the Countermeasure was going into effect. It's the call that each of us has to be prepared for every moment of our lives, and which most D7 agents never get. Thanks for making my life interesting."

"I do what I can."

Pause. "So, who then?"

Hermione sighed. "Harry."

"Ah."

"And Ron."

Diz shut her eyes, raising one hand to her brow as if she had a headache. "Ah," she repeated. "And you did this unwise thing because of the Master's demands, yes? Demands you'd decided to give in to?"

Hermione nodded, feeling miserable, predictable, and completely out of her depth.

"What were you thinking?" Diz said, not unkindly. "Why would you tell Harry what you were about to do when there was nothing he could do about it?"

"I told him because he's my husband and I love him, and I couldn't do that to him. Not again."

Diz didn't ask for clarification on her last statement. "Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you told him, because it got you sent here, where you can't do anything so blatantly ill-advised as give yourself up to the enemy."

Hermione stared at her hands. "I was trying to do what was right."

A long moment of silence stretched out between them. "You know," Diz finally said, her voice quiet, "when Elspeth chose you to succeed her, I had my doubts. I didn't know if you were an appropriate choice."

"And now you know I wasn't."

"Now I know you were." Hermione met Diz's eyes; she was smiling. "The Chancellor cares only for the members of her house."

"But the Chancellor's house is all the world," Hermione finished, in a low whisper. "How I've come to hate those words."

~~~~~

Harry walked into Kate Salvatore's office without knocking. Under ordinary circumstances he would not have dreamed of being so rude, but these were not ordinary circumstances, and social niceties were the last thing on his mind.

At first, he didn't see anyone. A thump and a loud expletive came from underneath the desk, and then a frizzy-haired head popped up. "Does this look like bloody Charing Cross station?" snapped the witch he presumed was the one whom he sought. "All day today, in and out, first your bossy wife and then your irritating second and now here you are in all your living glory and can't a girl get two bloody seconds' peace?"

Harry blinked. "Napoleon was here? When?"

She flapped a hand, as if it were of no importance. "About half an hour ago. Needed help with a keychain. I except you'll hear about it soon. And now you'll be wanting your spell, the one the missus was so knicker-twisted over, right?"

"Uh...that's right."

"Okay, hold out your hand." Harry did as he was told. Kate whipped out her wand and brought it down in a quick arc before her face; as she did so, he felt a sharp line of heat rise on his palm. Blood welled quickly, but there was no pain. Kate's wand vanished into the folds of her bedraggled robes and she held out one long-fingered hand, plucking at the air. A spherical drop of blood rose from his palm and she grabbed it, her hands swarming around it as it floated, pulsing and energizing itself through whatever magic she was working on it. She flicked her fingers, sending it hurtling towards the ceiling; all at once she was holding a small glass phial in her other hand. In a flash the blood was inside the phial. Harry was having trouble tracking her movements; she was too quick. The phial was elongated, molded, charmed, and strung on a leather lanyard. She tossed it to him and he caught it on reflex, noting that the wound on his hand was gone. "There. Give that to your vessel. He's to wear it at all times or else your magic won't know where to go when it leaves you."

"Vessel?"

She sighed, sounding infinitely weary. "Don't you people talk to each other? The spell Hermione had me design for you requires the use of a vessel. You say the spell, and your magic is expelled along with the Master's, only yours will be held for you by a vessel so you can get it back once you're done...that is, unless you want to live out the rest of your life as a Muggle."

"No, thanks."

"Yeah, thought as much. She said she knew someone who could serve. I suspect she meant Mr. Weasley."

Harry nodded. It made sense. "And then when I want it back..."

"It's all right here," she said, handing him a roll of parchment. "The spell to lose the magic, and the spell to get it back."

He looked at the parchment. "Will it hurt Ron?" he asked, quietly.

Kate met his eyes. "I'm kind of curious about that myself, actually. Technically, he isn't the ideal vessel. He has been trained, he has used magic in the past even if he's out of practice. Then again, your magic is significantly stronger than his ever was or ever could have been. I don't know if those two factors will make it easier or harder for him." Harry said nothing. "You don't have a choice, you know."

"Oh yes, I do. I always do. Just not a good choice." Harry's Bubble floated up before him.

"Harry! I need to see you right away!" Napoleon. "And bring Hermione. Meet me in your office."

Harry sighed. "I'm on my way." He nodded to Kate. "Thanks for this."

"Don't mention it. Let me know if you have any questions about the spells."

~~~~~

Napoleon was squinting at him, his brow furrowed. He looked like he couldn't decide whether or not he should accuse Harry of having him on. "I coulda sworn you just said that Hermione was called away."

Harry sighed. "You heard right."

"Now? Today? What could possibly take precedence over this? Did the Chancellor Bubble her up and ask her around to discuss the future of the Wizengamot?"

Harry maintained his poker face with only an extraordinary effort. "Hermione will be unavailable until further notice."

"Harry, what the fuck's gotten into you? You're making it sound like she's off in the bloody Witness Fidelius Program or something! What's going on?"

"I can't talk about it."

"But what..." Napoleon cut himself off, seeing Harry's face. He held up a hand. "Fine, whatever. Don't tell me. It's not like we have anything to do that she might be able to help us with, no, not a thing, nothing going on around here today, it's bloody Sunday at the park! Lollies and cotton candy all round! Sunshine and daisies and fucking campfire songs and..."

"Do I have to pull rank to get you to shut up?" They were walking down the corridor by now, Napoleon hurrying to keep up with Harry's strides.

"No, you have to tell me what the sodding hell's going on."

"I'm going to find the Master and beat the location of those hostages out of him with my bare hands, satisfied? Think you can help me with that?"

"Yes!" Napoleon exclaimed. Harry stopped. "That's what I was coming to tell you! I can help you with that, actually!"

Harry blinked, nonplussed. "Oh." Napoleon held up an object which Harry recognized, but which made no sense in context. "Uh...how is your 'Ass, Gas or Grass' keychain supposed to help me?"

"This may look like an ordinary novelty keychain, but it's really a compass. Except instead of pointing to magnetic north, this compass points to the Master." Napoleon was clearly excited about this. "You see, when I was a Regulator, I knew this bloke who had invented a way to hunt down his marks with a weird reverse Summoning Spell mixed with a Sensitivius charm."

Harry frowned. "The charm used on dragonhounds?"

"Right. It's what makes them able to sense one person's magic among many. Now, Sensitivius works on anything without magic of its own, not just hounds, but it doesn't do much good to charm a coffee cup to sense somebody's magic when it can't move to them and it can't tell you where they are. But the reverse Summoning Charm means that..."

"...the coffee cup could take you to them." Harry stared at Napoleon. "Are you telling me that..."

"I used the charm on this keychain -- uh, it was the first thing I grabbed -- and used the security fields in the lecture hall to isolate the Master's magic from his Apparition. I configured the keychain to his magic." He nodded. "It'll take you to him, Harry."

Harry was overcome. Had he once not trusted this man? "I think I love you," he said.

"Well, let's not rush off for a dirty weekend in the country just yet. You're going to have to pick up the scent first, so to speak. The charm has to come into proximity to him or one of his enchantments, and the stronger the enchantment, the better."

Harry was a step ahead. "But that's easy, we can just go to the old Circle headquarters. With the Portal and all the phasing that's there, surely we can track him from there!" He looked up at Napoleon, excited.

"Yeah, totally!"

"That's brilliant!"

"I know!"

They stared at each other for a moment. "And...then what?" Harry said, looking at the keychain. Napoleon opened and closed his mouth a few times. Harry sagged, shaking his head. "You know, sometimes it's downright embarrassing that the wizarding world has entrusted its safety to the likes of us."

"Well, so...you track him, and then you..."

"Then I what, Jones? Ask him nicely where the hostages are? Beat it out of him? He'll never tell me. He'll die first. And we won't be any closer to finding our people. We can't go after the Master until we know where they are."

"And we're no closer to finding that out than we were weeks ago when we first found out they were missing."

Harry flung the keychain down on his desk in frustration. "You know, I'm starting to see a pattern here."

"What kind of pattern?"

"When did we lose Silverstein?"

"Four months ago."

"And how long had she been inside?"

Napoleon sighed. This was another casualty of their as-yet-unidenfitied mole that chafed at his soul. "Three years."

"She could have gotten close enough to find out where the hostages were, and she's conveniently made and disposed of. And what about Collinswoth?"

"He'd been inside six years."

"And he got made last year, just after the Florence debacle. The only two agents we have left inside the Circle have been inside less than a year apiece."

"Useless."

"He's systematically blinded us and made it impossible for us to attack him directly."

"Unless we're willing to just sacrifice the hostages." Napoleon met his eyes. "You know, there may come a time when we have to..."

"I know," Harry said, quietly. "I'm trying not to think about it."

~~~~

Ron pressed his fingers against his forehead, staring down at the text before him. Sirius sat across the table, sorting large, dusty volumes into stacks. "'Partimeus of the third part non quom relatemeo to the ad hoc partimeus of the first part is precluded from relation of the...'" Ron stopped reading and looked up at Sirius. "What the fucking hell does any of this mean?"

"I'd have thought it would pose no problem for you, given your recently acquired academic proclivity."

"Well, I've read some Muggle legal documents, but this..."

Sirius frowned. "Yes, wizarding legal language is notoriously dense. It's a mishmosh of English and Latin and some things that I suspect they just made up. I've never understood it. Happily, I have people for that kind of thing."

"I can't make heads nor tails of this rubbish. When was this written?"

"Well...D7 was organized two thousand years ago, which is when the security arrangements were formalized. I suspect these documents were written then."

"If we're going to find some kind of loophole to allow Hermione to leave, it'll be here. Except, of course, that it's all Greek to me." He looked up at Sirius, rubbing his chin as he thought. "There is someone who might be able to help us with this."

"We can't bring anyone else in, you know that."

"Hear me out. Laura works as a Ministry liaison, I know she deals with contracts and treaties and agreements every day. She must be able to decipher some of this gobbledygook. Surely we can trust her with this secret."

Sirius looked doubtful. "The more people know Hermione's identity, the worse it's going to be in the long run."

"Okay, then how about this: we bring her here, tell her what we need, she helps us, and then...you can Memory charm her, so she doesn't remember."

"Would she agree to that?"

"Once she's informed of the stakes, I'm sure she'll understand."

Sirius leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the table. "Ron, you find me in a very difficult position. As myself, I want to help you. But as Deputy Chancellor, I can't in all good conscience help you break Hermione out of her protective custody."

Ron nodded. "You've provided me with these volumes, and that's all I'll ask you for. I don't need your help. But if we're going to Memory Charm Laura, you'll have to be the one to do it."

"That, I have no problem with."

"Then let's be on our way, shall we? I'm sure she's at work."

~~~~

Harry strode down the hallway towards Sabian's office, everyone in his path jumping out of his way. He wasn't looking where he was going, trusting his Bubble, bobbing just in his field of vision near the floor, to guide him. He had his nose buried in Kate's parchments, looking over the instructions for the spell he was to use, the spell he wouldn't be able to practice.

Part of his mind was on the spell, another part was wondering how Ron was coming along, and yet another part was obsessing over Hermione's recent revelation. That didn't leave much room for peripheral vision, so when an arm shot out of an office as he passed and dragged him inside, he let out an unprofessional squawk and nearly lost his footing.

The door was shut quickly and he turned, his jaw dropping as he beheld Hermione standing there. His heart leapt...had Ron succeeded already?...and then sank again as she cast him a sharp glance, put a finger to her lips and shook her head.

He sighed. "It's hardly worth saying it, but...you're not Hermione."

She shook her head. "No. I'm a stand-in. Security measure. If she suddenly vanished, people might ask questions. Best to maintain the illusion that all is normal."

"Now there's a relative term."

"I thought it best to give you a heads-up so you didn't react if you saw me around."

"How considerate." It was extremely disconcerting to be talking to someone who looked like Hermione and spoke in her voice, but with such alien cadence and tone. It was like a funhouse mirror version of her.

"Hey, my job isn't to look after you, you know. I'm just trying to be helpful." Not-Hermione looked him up and down. "And don't go getting any funny ideas. I'm a bloke under here, I'll have you know."

"I'll try to restrain myself. Now, is there anything else? I have a lot of work to do."

Not-Hermione straightened her (his?) shoulders and smiled at him. "Any feedback? Am I convincing? I only had about ten minutes to observe her."

Harry's ears perked up at that. "You saw her? Is she all right?"

"You know, I'm not really allowed to talk about it," Not-Hermione said, in a tone that suggested Harry must be awfully thick to even suggest it. Harry's level of consternation jacked up a few notches...if it was odd to talk with someone who sounded like Hermione but wasn't, it was even odder still to find himself taking an intense dislike to someone who looked like the woman he loved.

"Don't cross your legs at the knee when you sit down. Hermione always crosses her legs at the ankle. And don't put your hands in your pockets. Hermione's mum thought it wasn't ladylike and drilled it into her when she was a kid. Oh, and you might consider being a little nicer to me. Hermione's rather fond of me, or so I've been led to believe." He went to the door. "Good luck being as smart as she is. Many try, but few succeed."

He left the office without a backward glance, resolving to try and avoid the decoy if he could.

He tried to put the presence of the creepy Hermione doppelganger out of his mind as he resumed his course towards Sabian's office, which he had never seen. Sabian usually came to him. His Bubble led him, interestingly, towards the cafeteria, through the kitchen to a mammoth freezer. He opened the lid and found a flight of stairs inside. Wondering if his ability to be surprised was dying from overuse, Harry descended the stairs, shutting the freezer door over his head.

He found Sabian in a tiny rabbit-warren of an office below, sitting at an oddly feminine carved escritoire, scribbling madly on a piece of parchment, which he gave to an owl sitting nearby. "Oh, Harry. Thanks for coming." He stood up and seemed to gather himself together, which was an odd look for the usually confident agent. "I, uh...need your permission for something."

"What?"

"It's about the mole. I've been studying all the incidents that we can attribute to his or her interference. The Florence debacle, Agent Silverstein's death...well, you know as well as I do what this has cost us."

"And?"

"The problem is that there isn't any one single person who had enough knowledge of all of these events to successfully inform about them to the Master. Therefore, they must be getting at least some of their information by interrogating others."

Harry nodded. "Which, of course, no one remembers."

"Exactly. So..." He took a deep breath. "I'd like clearance to start performing magical histories on key personnel who had knowledge of these incidents."

Suddenly, his discomfiture made sense. Harry sat down in one of Sabian's office chairs, staring into space. "I feared it would come to this," he murmured.

"If we want the mole, we have to do it."

"It won't tell us who it is."

"No, but at least we'll know who he's using as a source."

"Is that enough to justify raping the souls of our own people? There's a good reason magical histories are illegal, Sabian. My god, we'll know if anyone has their gray hair charmed away or uses magic to enhance their sex life! It'll tell us things no one should ever know about another person."

"I know it's unpleasant to think about, but..."

"How can I subject people I work with to that kind of invasion of their privacy?"

"To prevent further loss of life and security."

Harry sighed. "Oh, yes. That's how it starts. Such a good, inassailable reason. So justifiable. So logical. Where does it stop? Will we find ourselves intercepting people's personal owls? Planting whispering grapevines in their homes? Hiding homing talismans on them? The road from well-intentioned investigation to fascist Gestapo is really, really short, Sabian. It's all to keep us safe, right? It's all to keep things nice and secure? What'll we let ourselves turn into in the name of security?"

"I hate to break it to you, but our feet are already on that road. I'm covertly investigating our colleagues, Harry. I'm following them and charting their movements and observing their behavior. I have to take this step if I'm to know how next to proceed." He hesitated. "You know, freedom is a great thing, but total freedom is just another word for anarchy. We have to give up a little freedom if we want order and security."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure in a world where no one was free, we'd all feel very safe." He stood up and went to the door.

"But...what about the..."

"Do it," Harry said, without turning. He sighed. "She's not around to judge me," he muttered as he left the office.

~~~~

Ron and Sirius sat in the reception area of Laura's offices on the third floor of the brand-new SPMG headquarters. The old offices, he knew, had been destroyed by Allegra under circumstances that weren't exactly clear to him.

Her secretary had bid them wait a moment, as Ms. Chant was on an important conference Floo. They sat there on an uncomfortable couch, trying not to fidget, Ron carrying one of the dusty volumes of Chancelloriana. The secretary kept glancing at them. The poor man was probably a bit off his game by having the Deputy Chancellor sitting six feet away from him.

Laura came out of her office, a few parchments in her hand. Ron was struck by the difference in her demeanor. He'd never seen her in any part of her working life, and it was a little dissonant. Privately, she was warm and fun-loving. Here, she seemed all business, in her crisply tailored robes with her hair twisted up behind her head. She spoke to her secretary for a moment, then turned to them; her smile immediately dissipated the aura of businesslike detachment. She walked over and kissed Ron's cheek. "This is a pleasant surprise," she said, looking from him to Sirius. "What are you doing here, sweetheart?"

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?" Ron said.

"Um...sure. Let's go into the conference room." She led them across the hallway to an empty room. Sirius closed and sealed the door behind them. Ron sat next to her, keeping the book close to him.

"I need your help with something."

"Of course. Anything I can do."

Ron glanced at Sirius, still lurking by the door. "The problem is that...well, this is a very sensitive topic. I'm going to have to tell you something you're not supposed to know, and..."

"You could just Obliviate me once I've helped you," she said.

Ron smiled. "Yes, that's what we thought, too. You're all right with that, then?"

"Well, if you need my help, then I don't want you to get in trouble for asking me."

"Okay, then." Ron sighed, wondering where to begin. "It's about Hermione."

Laura frowned. "Is she all right?"

"Yes, so far as I know, but..." He shifted in his seat. "You see...Hermione's been leading something of a double life this last year or so."

Laura's lips thinned. "You know, sometimes I got this sense that she was keeping something. From everyone. Even from herself."

Ron nodded. "Quite. The truth is, Laura..." He steeled himself. "Hermione is the Chancellor." He waited for the barrage of questions.

Laura sat there stone-faced while the clock on the wall ticked off at least ten seconds. Her eyes moved slowly from Ron's face to Sirius', then back again. Finally she slumped in her chair, her posture collapsing into resignation. The hair on the back of Ron's neck began to stand up.

Slowly, she met his eyes. "Yes," she said. "I know."

~~~~~

They kept telling her that it wasn't a prison for her. They kept calling it "protective custody." Whatever term they chose, there was still the small matter of not being able to leave, and that made it prison enough for Hermione Granger.

"Sit down," Diz said. "You're making me dizzy." She was sitting at a long table in the dining area of Hermione's quarters, which she had learned were deep within Azkaban. Maybe I ought to call it my bunker, she thought. All the most fashionable trumped-up demagogues have them, why shouldn't I?

"I'm restless."

"Aren't we all."

"I'm not used to this...this...doing nothing."

"I'd get used to it if I were you." One of the anonymous D7 guards approached Diz.

"Number Nine? Number Six is here to see you."

Diz brightened. "Ah. Fantastic. He's only two hours late this time. Tell him to get the hell in here."

"Number Six? Does that mean he's your boss?"

"God, no," Diz said, sounding horrified by the idea. "The Division is run by a council of ten, all of us are equally responsible for the Division's leadership. Every member of Division 7 rotates through the Council of Ten, so we all get our chance to call the shots." She looked up as another agent entered, hooded and masked. He stopped by the table. "Nice of you to show up," Diz snarked in his general direction.

The agent tore off his mask and hood. "Some of us have jobs to do!"

Hermione's eyes bulged. "Draco?"

He glanced at her. "Hey, Hermione," he said, offhand and casual as always, then turned back to Diz. "I'll have you know that I was in Kuala Lampur trying to coax a terrified defector out of a muddy hole in a riverbank!"

"No job is more important than this one!" Diz snapped at him.

Hermione found her feet again and strode to the table. "You're part of this, too?" she demanded, which was admittedly a stupid question but the only entrée to clarification which sprang to mind.

"Is it that shocking? I already work in the Chancellor's office, you know. I was a natural choice." He looked daggers at Diz. "Believe me, I'd rather have been allowed to stay out of it."

Diz sighed. "Chancellor, it is our business to safeguard your identity. To that end, it is standard D7 procedure both to recruit operatives from within the circle of your acquaintance and to place operatives there ourselves."

"And when the Gestapo shows up and informs you that you're joining their little social club, believe me, you don't say no," Draco said.

"We're not the Gestapo," Diz said, in the weary tone of someone who's had this discussion many times and expects to have it many more times.

Hermione was still staring at Draco. "So you've known I was the Chancellor...for how long?"

"Since you took office."

"But...I..."

"Yes, I know. I'd like to thank the Academy. Although it's hardly the first time I've had to keep secrets like that." He turned back to Diz. "Now what do you want?"

"I need you to arrange a meet with our agent inside the Circle."

"That's easier said than done."

"Which is why I'm saying it but making you do it."

"When?"

"Today, if possible."

"It isn't."

"You better make it possible."

"Why am I doing this, again?"

"They need to find out where the Master's keeping his hostages."

"We've had months to get that information, why the big bloody hurry now?"

"It wasn't any of our business before. But if he's using them as leverage to get at our boss here, it becomes our business. Have our agent...who is it, again?"

"Ross Murdoch."

"Right. Have him find out and get back to you as soon as he possibly can, then you need to get that information to Harry. He has the means to locate the Master, but he can't possibly move on it until he knows where those hostages are being kept."

"What if they're being kept somewhere out of his reach?"

"Well, that's his problem."

"You could help him," Hermione put in, more to re-establish herself in this conversation than anything else.

Diz's cool eyes slid over to her. "My job is to help you. If I help Harry in the process, that's fine."

"You work for him."

"Not while I'm working for you."

~~~~~

Napoleon was on fucking fire. He felt like he could take on the entire Circle by himself. He wanted to burst in, wand blazing and fists flying. He was ready to kick ass and take names.

Too bad he had nowhere to go just yet. So all he could do with this boundless energy was to walk as fast as possible from one part of the ID to another, which he was doing, repeatedly and without forethought.

He rounded a corner and ran smack into Hermione, who was carrying some briefing folders and looked harried. "Hermione!" he spluttered, helping her pick up the folders. "But...Harry told me you were unavailable until further notice."

She glanced at him, a quick measured glance. "Uh, yeah. I'm, uh...back."

"What was it that was so bloody important?"

They both stood back up. "Oh, uh...nothing, really. Just...some business." She was acting awfully shifty. She wasn't looking him in the eye.

"Well...I'm glad your business, whatever it was, was able to spare you. We need the help."

She smiled mechanically and nodded. "Sure."

Napoleon was getting a very bad feeling. She was treating him like a stranger. "Awful busy around here, eh?" he said, putting on false joviality. "Reminds me of the end of the Spotswood campaign. Remember?"

That mechanical smile again. "Oh, yeah. Sure, me too. Look, I've got to get these folders to Isobel. I'll see you." She glanced at him once again and took off down the hall. Napoleon watched her go until she disappeared around the corner, then ran in the opposite direction.

His Bubble led him to Harry, who was in his office with Sukesh on one side of him and Remus on the other, both of them talking at him at once. Napoleon grabbed Remus's arm and started leading him out. "Guys, excuse us. I need to speak to Harry in private. Just clear off for a tic, okay?" He shut the door behind them and turned around.

"What the hell?" Harry said, his hands on his hips, glaring at him. "I was in the middle of..."

"Something's wrong with Hermione."

Harry's face slammed shut like the door of a bank vault. "Oh?"

"You said she was unavailable? Well, I just saw her and she was acting weird. I mean really weird, like she wasn't herself. So I asked her a test question and guess what? She's not herself. I said all this reminded me of the Spotswood campaign and asked her if she remembered, and she said yes!"

Harry frowned. "What's the Spotswood campaign?"

"Fuck if I know, I made it up! But she said she remembered it! Harry, she's been replaced by a fucking Polyjuiced Circle wizard..."

"Polyjuice doesn't work inside the building."

"...or somebody wearing a glamour or a damned clone or God knows what else but that wasn't her, I'm telling you!"

Harry took a deep breath. Napoleon was completely gobsmacked. He'd been expecting him to spring into action and demand further investigation, but instead he was just standing there like a statue. "I'm sure you're overreacting. It's only natural. Things are so hectic today."

"Overreacting? Harry, I just told you that Hermione isn't Hermione!"

"Based on what? One question? She was probably distracted, and only half-heard you, and didn't want to ask you what the hell you were talking about because it'd just waste time, so she said she remembered some made-up campaign just to end the conversation. Hell, that's what I'd do."

Napoleon took a step closer. "Have you spoken to her recently?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"And she didn't seem weird to you?"

"No, she seemed fine, and I think I know her better than you do."

"I'm telling you, it wasn't her. I know her, too." The two men stared at each other over Harry's desk for a moment. "What are you going to do about it?"

Harry began shuffling the papers on his desk. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You heard me. You're keyed up, Jones. You're seeing things, inventing intrigue to alleviate your frustration at not being able to do anything about the Master right now. I understand, really I do, but it's not going to help to start accusing poor Hermione of not being herself just because she didn't give you the right answer to one dumb question."

Napoleon shook his head, his mouth hanging open. "Who are you? Bring Harry back!"

"Drop it, Jones." Harry was giving him the I-mean-business stare. "That's an order."

Napoleon put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "All right. I guess you know best, don't you? Might've thought you'd care a little bit, seeing as it's your fucking wife, but what do I know, I'm just the idiot seeing monsters in the closet, I guess." He turned and left the office, indulging himself in a good door-slam as he left.

Drop it. Sure. Drop it, my ass.

~~~~~

Ron looked absolutely incredulous. Laura knew the feeling. "You...you know?" he repeated.

Laura nodded, misery filling her. "I've always known."

"How in the hell do you know?"

She sighed. "A few years ago, just after we moved into Bailicroft, this...person...came to see me. He locked the doors and put up all kinds of silencing charms and just when he'd gotten me good and freaked out he told me that he was from some secret outfit whose job it is to keep the Chancellor's identity safe. I know now that they're called Division Seven."

Ron frowned. "I've heard Harry mention them."

"He told me that a new Chancellor was about to be chosen, and that it was going to be Hermione. He said it was standard procedure, during a transition, to recruit operatives from within the new Chancellor's circle of friends."

Ron folded his hands on the table, sighing. "You know, someday I'm going to meet someone who is not some kind of secret agent. That'll be a good day. I'm looking forward to it." He glanced up at her, briefly, and she saw a fresh resurgence of bitterness that she'd joined the ranks of those who weren't who he thought they were.

"I'm not a secret agent," she said, hoping she sounded sincere. "I'm really not. I just...watch. They like to have someone in the house in case something happens, to look out for strange things, strange people hanging about. I don't have secret passwords, I don't know any kung fu and I don't have a codename."

Now Ron did meet her eyes. "Look, I'm just going to skip all that why-didn't-you-tell me and I-couldn't-tell-you shite, all right? Not that all this thrills me, but I just don't have the time." He shoved the book towards her. "I guess it was an even better idea to come here than I thought it was."

Laura nodded, forcing her attention back to the task. "What is it you're looking for?"

"A loophole. A way to get Hermione out of Azkaban. I can't make heads nor tails of this rubbish."

She glanced down the pages. "It's pretty dense, all right. When was this written?"

"The original magics around the Chancellor's identity were set up around two thousand years ago. That's when they..." He suddenly stopped talking as if somebody had thrown a switch. Laura looked up from the book to see him staring at the tabletop, his eyes cut to the side. She recognized the expression as his "gimme a second to work this out" expression. He turned towards Sirius. "When was Azkaban built?"

"Fifteen hundred years ago."

Ron grabbed the book. "That's it. That's the loophole."

"I don't follow you," she said.

He looked from her to Sirius. "Don't you get it? The magics send Hermione to Azkaban, right? Except they can't have been written that way, because Azkaban didn't exist when these spells were designed. That must have been added in later, which probably means there's a way to change it." He was looking at the front and back pages. "Goddamn it, would it have killed them to put an index in this thing?"

"Give it here," Laura said, snatching the book back. She flipped the pages, looking at the page headers. "Wait...this section here is about security failsafe measures..." She flattened the book. "I think this is it." She followed the small text with one finger. "It talks about a countermeasure...yeah, here it is. In the event of a breach in the security of the Chancellor's identity, she is to be transported..." Laura frowned, her eyes skipping ahead to decipher the unfamiliar language. "It says here that she's to be transported into safe custody."

"What's that mean, safe custody?"

"I don't know, it doesn't say."

"That could mean anything. A place, a person or group of people. How was it designated to be Azkaban?"

Laura flipped pages rapidly, brow furrowed. "Wait, here we go. Safe custody is defined as being either a secure location, or the guardianship of a qualified and appointed protector."

"Appointed? By whom?"

"I'm getting there, hang on. If a secure location is unsatisfactory, the Chancellor may be released into the custody of a qualified protector to be designated by the Deputy Chancellor." She looked up at Sirius, as did Ron.

"First I've heard of it. Then again, none of this has come up in a really long time."

"Do you know how to, uh...designate a protector?" Ron asked him.

"You mean, aside from pointing and saying 'You're the protector?'"

"There has to be some kind of magical component to it, so the Chancellor's protection magics aren't broken. If everything isn't done according to whatever cockeyed procedure these paranoiacs set up then it's all for nothing."

"If there's a spell or ceremony or something, I'm not aware of it." Sirius sighed. "Maybe Diz knows. She's part of this Division Seven, right?"

"Then let's go ask her."

"You want to go to Azkaban?"

"Come on, Sirius. All the cool kids are doing it." Ron picked up the heavy book and stood. Laura followed them out of the conference room and into the hallway outside her office. Ron hesitated and turned back to her.

"I'm sorry," she said to him, quietly.

"For what?" he said. "You were a tremendous help. Thank you." He smiled, then leaned in and kissed her.

"Be careful," she said. It was already happening. He was getting drawn into their world of spies and danger and death, just what he'd always said he'd never do and what she'd always secretly feared he wouldn't be able to avoid.

"I will," he said, and she saw the same thought mirrored on his face. "I...I have to," he whispered, leaning close.

"I know." She kissed him again, more thoroughly. "I love you," she said, letting her hand linger on his face.

It was the first time she'd said it, and she wished it were under more relaxed circumstances. She watched it sink through the skin of Ron's face, pushing his expression around in an untidy little shimmers. He nodded. "Me, too."

~~~~~

Harry was at his desk when Remus walked in without knocking. He shut the door carefully behind him and took a seat. Harry kept his eyes lowered but he could practically feel Remus' gaze on him.

A few moments passed in silence. "Harry, what the hell is going on around here?" Remus said, quietly.

Harry sighed. Oh, nothing much. My wife is the Chancellor. I might never see her again. There's an imposter posing as her and Napoleon's on to it and I can't tell him a damned thing. I've just authorized Sabian to perform illegal magics on my own people, including you. I have no earthly idea where these damned hostages are and since I didn't seem to have much else to do I thought I'd sit here and stare at my desktop for awhile. It's going pretty well. "I find myself painted into a corner, Remus."

"I know the feeling."

"Napoleon has a way for me to track the Master."

"But you won't until you know you can get to the hostages."

Harry rubbed at his eyes. "My brain's turning to mush. I can't even begin to think about how to find out where they are."

~~~~~

And that, faithful and patient readers, is all she wrote. Literally.

~~~~~

What would have happened next?

Harry and Remus figure they can use Allegra's knowledge of the Circle headquarters to mount an effective infiltration of the headquarters, and once there, he can use Napoleon's keychain to track the Master. Harry's hoping that they can surprise the Master and he can do the spell and take him into custody. Harry figures that once the Master's powers (not to mention his own) are removed, he'll have the advantage over the Master, who isn't used to operating without magic, and the location of the hostages can then be extracted from him somehow.

In short, Harry, Remus and Allegra and the others take over the deserted Circle headquarters looking for clues where the hostages are. They aren't really surprised when it turns into an ambush...the Master shows up with many Circle members. During the fracas, Draco finally finds a way to alert Harry that the hostages are being held not here in headquarters, but in an extradimensional realm like the Domain and the Stronghold, accessible through the same portal the Master used to talk to Allegra and travel between his world and theirs. Harry can now afford to engage the Master and do the spell that'll rob them both of their powers, but the Master skedaddles first. Harry uses Napoleon's keychain to follow him, leaving Remus and Napoleon behind to keep the fight going.

Meanwhile, Ron and Sirius have found the appropriate incantations to allow Hermione's "secure location" to be designated as "Ron's custody," so she's able to leave Azkaban and the three of them, plus Diz and various D7 members, head off to Circle headquarters to help.

Harry and the Master face off in some remote location. Harry does the spell and both of their magics are forced out of their bodies. Just as Ron and Hermione arrive as headquarters, Harry's magic goes into Ron and he can barely control it. He's convulsing and throwing off dangerous magic right and left; Hermione and Sirius have to put up a shield around him so he doesn't accidentally blow anybody to smithereens.

Harry's all ready for a big hand-to-hand swordfight with the Master, but to his surprise, the Master just gives up, sneering that he knows he can't compete with Harry that way. He gets to his knees and tells Harry to go ahead and kill him, taunting him that Harry's one of the good guys and can't possibly do that. He'll be taken into custody and the Circle will continue, and his "father" will find a way to restore his powers.

Harry acknowledges that yes, he is a good guy, and that doesn't mean what the Master thinks it means. Then he kills him.

He says the reverse incantation and gets his own powers back, and returns to headquarters. It's chaos. The Circle is putting up a fight and both sides have heavy casualties. He does not see Hermione and Ron; they're in another part of the building. He goes to the main chamber where the portal is and where most of the fighting is taking place. Allegra's there and says that the portal was controlled by the Master's Mage powers, but she thinks that between the two of them she and Harry could probably open it so that they can get the hostages out. They do, with great effort, and the hostages are rescued, but once they're through Harry sees his chance to go through to the Stronghold and confront Seth. He leaves Allegra barely able to hold the portal open on her own and goes through.

When he gets there and meets Seth he wonders why Seth didn't help the Master more. Turns out Seth didn't send the Master down to Earth so he could take over the world, he sent him to get rid of him. Seth considered the Master a whiny disappointment, so he gave him a little project to keep him busy. Most entertaining.

Seth just keeps talking. He tells Harry how he cultivated Voldemort, how he tutored and whispered to him how to build his evilness. Seth claims responsibility for all the pain of Harry's life. He keeps hammering at it, taunting Harry with all the ways he's made Harry's life a living hell and all the people Harry's loved that Seth is responsible for hurting.

BTW back at the headquarters, Allegra's strength is failing. The portal is shrinking. Hermione and Ron have found their way to the main chamber; the fighting is dying down as word spreads among the Circle that the Master is dead. Everyone's pretty much busy taking bad guys into custody and treating injured people.

We see that Seth is only trying to distract Harry long enough to keep him there until the portal closes, which will trap him there with no way to return home. The Master's disconnection from his humanity made him crazy and unstable, but with Harry, Seth can have another crack at tapping his powers. Plus, hey, fun trophy.

He's getting to Harry. He just about dares Harry to strike him down (Harry's still got the sword he used to kill the Master). Harry's seething, feeling all the old revenge feelings over his parents and Ron and everytihng else. Finally the Master just asks him "are you man enough to take your revenge?" Harry starts to do it. But as he raises his sword and his wand he sees his wedding ring on his left hand, and decides it's more important to get back. So he just says "Yes, I am" and then turns and dives back through the portal just before it closes. Allegra collapses.

He doesn't see Hermione at first, she's across the room trying to help some mediwizard revive some half-dead agent. He focuses on Allegra, Sukesh brings her around. He thanks her for holding out as long as she did, and says it's over, yadda yadda. He asks her what now, and if she still needs asylum, or if he can help her find a new place to stay. He's emotional that Allegra turned out to be not so evil after all, and he's grateful for what she's done, and perhaps feeling a little validated that he ever felt anything for her in the first place.

She slowly smiles, gets up and thanks him for his help...she couldn't have defeated the Master on her own. Harry realizes she didn't care about doing anything good, or helping him, she just needed him to help get herself back in control. He says he doesn't believe she's as evil as she wants him to think. She laughs at him and says he doesn't know the half of it. She starts to leave, Remus stops her. She looks back at Harry, says "Not so evil, huh?" She Summons someone's dagger to her and stabs Remus through the heart. Then she's gone.

Diz screams, big chaos, everyone rushes to Remus...Sukesh is unable to help him, it's too late. He's dead. Harry finally sees Hermione as they kneel on oppposite sides of Remus's body, but all they can do is exchange a brief glance...she's busy holding Diz back and Harry's got Remus' body to worry about.

Aftermath. Dark wizards are taken away, casualties are taken to mediwizards, the dead from both sides are removed. After many hours of the business of cleaning up, Harry and Hermione finally meet up again back at the ID when she finds him on a balcony, by himself. They hold each other without speaking.

Later, at home, Napoleon, who is nearly beside himself with guilt, confesses to Harry that he'd been sleeping with Allegra. Harry, who is still pretty raw himself, is furious. They both end up angry. Napoleon points out that he didn't tell Allegra anything that helped her and that he didn't have to tell Harry in the first place, accusing Harry of just using this as an excuse to be furious with him. Harry can't believe Napoleon was so careless and accuses him of abetting Remus's death. The fight does not end well and they're not speaking afterwards. Hermione stays out of it.

Ron's brief experience with Harry's mage powers have reawakened his own magical senses, and he begins instruction to regain control over his magic.

Throughout all this there's something hinted at, something to do with Hermione and D-7 and the Chancellorship. Hermione keeps telling Diz to give her a few more days. A funeral for Remus is held. Diz is not handling it well. She blames Harry for Remus's death and resigns.

Things calm down a little. Except all isn't well. The Master knew who Hermione really was, and it's not known who else he may have told. Her identity is no longer secure.

Here's the thing: there's a very specific mandate in the Articles of Chancery for what happens when the identity isn't secure. Hermione manages to wangle exemptions for Harry and Ron, but who knows how many Circle stooges know? And could be telling others right now? She can't give up the job, that wouldn't help. As long as they know who SHE is, they could just kidnap her and make her tell who she picked to succeed her, and so on and so forth until they found the current Chancellor.

There's only one choice: exile. The Chancellor whose identity is breached must disappear in the world of Muggles until such time as D-7 can reestablish her security...in other words, locate and Obliviate anyone who knows who she is.

She knows she has to go, but it's tearing her apart. Unwilling to leave without a word, like she did before, but unable to bear saying goodbye in person, she writes Harry a long letter explaining the situation. She doesn't know how long it'll be before she sees him again. This has happened a few times before. One Chancellor was in exile five years. Another, for twenty. For still another, their identity was never secure and their exile was permanent.

But she finds as she tries to leave that she can't do it. She gets as far as the train station and goes back to say goodbye in person. She finds Harry sitting on the floor of their room, crying...he's just read the letter. She tries to say goodbye but he says he won't let her go...not without him. She's shocked he'd want to come with her and leave his whole life behind. He reminds her that they talked about this on their honeymoon, how they'd give up their whole lives if they had to in order to stay together, and that here was his chance to give her the support she'd always given him.

So they leave together. They say goodbye to Ron, but they can't say a word to anyone else.

After a little time has passed Napoleon has to assume control of the CCO division. No one knows what happened to Harry and Hermione and there's much speculation. They've just vanished without a trace or a wod to anyone. Ron has become somewhat closemouthed and withdrawn and won't talk about it at all. Eventually Napoleon goes through Harry's office and turns it into his own office...except in Harry's desk, he finds some evidence that he takes to Argo.

He thinks he knows why they vanished. Because Harry's the mole.

Last scene of the story: H and H on a train, both of them scared and clinging to each other, heading into the unknown of their exile.

The end.

~~~~~

And now, faithful readers, I hope you can see why it became as impossible for me to finish this as it did. I knew that HWTF was going to end on a giant cliffhanger, therefore I was facing not only finishing HWTF but continuing into the next story, because I couldn't imagine leaving you all on that note.

I will now briefly sketch out my plans for what was to follow.

~~~~~~

Harry and Hermione are living lives as Muggles in America. They make a friend, a Muggle lawyer, who finds out they're wizards. They find an ally in Storey Severance, the American Minister of Magic.

And they are hunted...or rather, Harry is...by a very angry and determined Napoleon. Everything I'd been doing with Napoleon, from his love for Hermione to his fight with Harry over Allegra, was to prepare him to really believe that Harry could be the mole. Everyone thinks Harry betrayed the ID, but Napoleon is sure Hermione had nothing to do with it and Harry's just dragging her along. He's grimly focused on finding Harry and punishing him.

Eventually, through Sabian's magical histories that were alluded to in this chapter but which would be a bit lost in the shuffle, Napoleon learns that it was not Harry but Napoleon himself who was the mole. His guilt over this and over what he had inadvertently helped happen (including Hermione's near-death) drive him to attempt suicide, but he fails.

Harry and Hermione return home to Bailicroft once D7 gives them the all clear and try to resume their lives. They would have had some kind of adventures and derring-do while in America but I hadn't gotten that far yet.

~~~~~

And so, with this inadequate summary, I leave behind my many satisfying years in the HP fanfiction community. I regret so much not being able to write the scenes that I've described above. Some were scenes I'd been looking forward to writing for a long time, such as the confrontation between Harry and Napoleon over Allegra, or Harry and Hermione's scene where he tells her he's going with her into exile. But it just wasn't going to happen, and I hope that at least knowing the bare bones of the rest of the story provides some kind of closure for all of you.

I can't thank all my readers enough, each and every one of you. Your enthusiasm and support have kept me writing for many years, and helped me grow and change as a writer. If I ever publish my own original work, I will have you to thank, along with readers in other fandoms. I hope you can forgive my inability to finish this work. I know, because you've told me, that this series has been important to many of you, and I hope you'll remember it fondly.

I have no plans to remove any of my work from the Internet at this time. This may someday become necessary, but I'll let you know. For those of you who only read my work at FictionAlley, be advised that there are a number of short stories and vignettes that are part of the PoUniverse that are not loaded onto FictionAlley. Everything I've written in this world can be found at my Yahoo!Group here:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ParadigmOfUncertainty/files/Lori/

The archive is public.