Will You Ever Return to Me?

Chapter 12.

June 2002, Area 51, Nevada.

Who came up with these long corridors? Hermione thought as she walked down one of them. Area 51 had many... if she designed the place, she'd have come up with a better layout. The corridors were a waste of space, people's time, and taxpayers' money. They also instilled a sense of dread when someone got called to a superior and had to take a long walk down one... like heading towards an execution. Hermione was in just such a situation now.
She had been going through her routine work when she received an order to report to the top boss himself, the director of Area 51. She hoped they weren't throwing her out, but the order appeared quite ominous. She also couldn't share that worry--for some reason, Lydia didn't show up today.

"Hermione Granger-Weasley, reporting to see the Director," she announced as she approached the entrance to the facility's headquarters. A sentry stood at the door with a rifle. Hermione put her eye to a scanner and waited.

The scanner beeped. "Oh, you're one of them," the sentry said. "You'll have to leave your wand here."

Hermione sighed. Really, she thought. What do they I'm going to do, go in there and kill the Director? She knew that this central complex of Area 51 was protected by anti-Apparition wards... so she wouldn't be able to escape if she did that. And if one did aim to kill the man, it'd be much easer to do that outside the facility, when he was with his family. Like the whole Area 51, the Director's best protection was very few people knowing who he truly was.

But arguing was pointless, so Hermione left her wand on a nearby table, and, nodding to the sentry, headed in.

She was about to report to secretary when she was preempted. "Ms. Granger-Weasley, go right in."

Hermione smiled at her, and headed towards the door with a simple golden plaque on it. The plaque read: Lt. General Paul Chandler, USAF.

General Chandler was a very tall man whose hair color Hermione didn't know, since he shaved his head bald. She had met him once, right after she started working here. They talked for less than five minutes then. Now... Hermione doubted she would be summoned all the way here just to be fired, but she was still nervous.

The general looked up from his desk. Upon it were strewn several folders, which he was studying intensely. One of them, Hermione noticed, was her own personal file.

"Sit down, Ms. Granger-Weasley," he invited her. She did.

"How's the Digital Pensieve going?"

Hermione had to be honest. "Not so well. We still--sir, this isn't--"

"Relax. The Digital Pensieve is no longer your concern," he said. "Damn them. Damn--"

"Sir?" Hermione asked. Whoever they were, they must have angered General Chandler significantly.

"We're in trouble," he said. "This facility's in trouble. Fifteen years ago, we swept a rather unpleasant incident under the rug. Well, the rug has been pulled out, and we're going to pay for it."

"Sir, I don't--"

"In your time fighting against this dark wizard, back in Britain--"

"Voldemort," Hermione supplied.

"Yes. Did you ever encounter anyone named Hund?"

"Hund?" Hermione asked. Hund! Harry was sent to prison by Hund. It can't be a coincidence. But there was no proof, and Hermione knew nothing except what Harry told her. "No, sir," she said. "Why?"
"He's a dark wizard--"

"That doesn't mean he was a Death Eater. There was dark magic before Voldemort. There still is now that Voldemort's gone. There will be as long as--"

"I was hoping you'd know something, since the group you'll be working with will focus on Hund."

"I still don't understand--"

"Hund's trouble," General Chandler said. "Hund's trouble for both our worlds. And now, he somehow has access to top secret U.S. government information that he shouldn't have. We're blamed for the leak because, fifteen years ago, Hund worked here at Fifty-One."

That's where I saw the name, Hermione remembered. Lydia was doing something with the past records of the facility, and a section of the employee register must have come up.

"He worked here?"

"Correct. And the NSA's theory is that he's left back doors in our computers, and is now using them. For all I know, it may be true. Hund didn't just leave us. He stole classified data and escaped."

Hermione gasped. "And they didn't catch him all these years?"

"U.S., British, and Canadian governments put out arrest warrants. So did the corresponding magical governments. It did no good. Hund's disappeared, and has been aiding 'freedom fighters' all over the world--sometimes utilizing classified data."

"But why now--?"

"Hund's been lying low the past five years or so." That's what you think. "But several recent terrorists acts were traced to him--"

"9/11?!" Hermione asked. The act itself was horrible. That it might have been perpetuated by a wizard on an unsuspecting Muggle population...

"We doubt it, but it can't be ruled out. Somehow, Hund is getting our recent classified data. The NSA's up in arms over it, so we have to toe their line. We're going after Hund. They asked for you. Who, I don't know."

"When?"

"Now. Office 2779. Good luck, Ms. Granger-Weasley. Catch the bastard."

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied. Well, this is something. And I'll find a way to let Harry know... somehow. She frowned. Harry hadn't contacted her since he had left. He also hasn't used much money... although there was a withdrawal of several thousand dollars just a few days ago. She wondered what Harry bought.

When Hermione stepped into office 2779, she was surprised to find herself staring at a large model of an SR-71 Blackbird spy plane hanging from the ceiling. She was even more surprised to find that of all the people around the table, she knew two of them. Right across from her sat Lydia Jones, working on her laptop, and at one end of the table, there was Joseph Stone, an elderly man who was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and who arranged for Hermione to get into Area 51. She moved to greet him.

"Ms. Granger-Weasley?" A woman from the other end of the table called. She was in her early thirties, wiry, blonde, and wearing a U.S. Army uniform with the crossed flags and a torch insignia of the Signal Corps. Hermione looked to see the rank--"

"You're late," the woman said.

"Sorry. General Chandler held me up."

"General Chandler held a lot of things up. Never mind. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Catherine Hemmings. I'm in command of this unit."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Here." She turned her laptop towards Hermione.

"What's this?"

"Your terms of work. You will be tried for treason if--"

"I'm British."

"Irrelevant. The U.S. has an extradition treaty with Britain."

Hermione started to get the feeling that Lieutenant Colonel Hemmings didn't like her. "What if I don't sign?"

Hemmings pointed to the door. "You get a Memory Charm, and go back to routine work on... digital Pensieves..." Hemmings said, pronouncing the last two words with delight.

Hermione shook her head, and signed the electronic pad. She then placed her thumbprint and iris scan on record.

"Joe recommended you," Hemmings told Hermione, "and I trust his judgment." But what I'd like to know is... are you indecisive?"

"What?" Hermione asked. Stone, Lydia, and the other four people in the room all looked up at her.

"Cathy--" Stone said.

"Don't 'Cathy' me here." Hemmings turned to him. "I'm your superior officer--"

"Yes, ma'am," Stone obliged. "However--"

"Ms. Hermione Granger-Weasley," Hemmings said. "God, that's stupid. You either change your name upon marriage, or you don't."

Now Hermione really didn't like Hemmings. "And that means I'm indecisive?" she asked. "Well..."

Hermione spun around and pointed her wand at Hemmings. She aimed to do a stunning spell. Indecisive? she thought angrily. Just--

Suddenly, a hand of one of the men who had been sitting silently this whole time intercepted her wrist and knocked it up. The spell, instead of hitting Hemmings, went into the ceiling. Pain went through Hermione's arm, and she dropped her wand. Before she could react, her legs were swiped out from under her and she collapsed on the floor. She blinked. The man was pointing a gun at her.

Hermione didn't have time to say anything when Joseph Stone stepped in. "Back off, Sergeant," he said. "Hermione's quite safe."

"She--"

"Put the gun away. You can get up, Hermione. Now, Colonel Hemmings--"

"Colonel Hemmings,"--Hermione glared at the officer-- "if you think I can't do the job, you want me to do, just say so. I'm not desperate. I can have another job at Fifty-One, I can get another job outside, and I have enough to retire now if I wanted to." Not that I'd ever use Harry's money like that, but Hemmings doesn't know that.

"Very well," Hemmings said after a long pause. "But just because you're a witch doesn't give you the right to wave your wand around as you please. You're supposed to be smart, and it's your brain that you're paid to use here. Since you already know Jones and Stone, let me introduce you to the rest of the team. The one who took you down was Sergeant Larry Earhart, this"--she pointed to a very short man next to her-- "is Sergeant Michael Anderson, and that's Staff Sergeant Sean Bloomberg." She nodded at a man at the other side of the table. Hermione shook all their hands and smiled at Larry Earhart. She hoped she'd have the time to ask him how he did that later--and maybe to teach her. But Hemmings still hasn't introduced the remaining man, who was sitting next to Lydia engrossed in a thick manual of some sort. "My second in command," Hemmings said simply. "Captain John Sherman."

Sherman looked up, shook Hermione's hand, and went back to his reading.

"They're from the Delta Force," Hemmings supplied.

Hermione took a seat next to stone. "So, you don't exist?" she asked Earhart.

The reply came from Bloomberg. "Neither does Fifty-One," he said.

"And neither do we," Hemmings interrupted. "We've been formed so we can eliminate the threat Hund poses. Stone here is a representative of the MLEA."

"And we trust him?" Lydia asked. "This is supposed to be secret."

"I'm not your garden-variety Auror," Stone said.

"Enough!" Hemmings cut him off. "The most important thing is to close the leak of secret data that Hund somehow has access to. Any terrorist act where Hund's involved, we're going to be the first on the scene. We'll piece together the information needed to locate Hund's source."

"Ma'am, may I ask something?" Hermione interrupted.

Hemmings paused. "What is it?"

"I don't think we'll get anywhere by just reacting. And also, how do we know if Hund's involved in a particular terrorist act?"

Hemmings looked at her with something resembling respect. "To answer the second question, we don't. He has few patterns in his activity--that's why he evaded us all these years. One thing we can be reasonably certain is that we can discount any incident in which magic is not used, and where there are no American victims--usually U.S. military and government personnel. There, he's been consistent. Why, we don't know." Except for the time he killed Malfoy, Hermione thought.

"With what little knowledge we have, we have no choice but to react. That's why locating the leak is so important. Ideally, we want to do that without alerting Hund to it and start feeding him false information. Maybe then he'll act on and expose himself."

"Hund may not be alone when we find him--he does work with terrorists, after all. But if it comes down to magical combat with him, it'll be up to you and Stone to take him down. Right now, our orders are to arrest him. But if it's a choice between killing him and letting him get away, we use deadly force and deal with niceties later."

Looking over the group, Hemmings sighed. "Very well. I hope to get all the relevant documents from General Chandler. We'll start work tomorrow. Get here on time," she threw at Hermione before departing the office.

The rest of the group started leaving, too. When only Hermione and Stone were left, Hermione turned to the man. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he said, amused. "Can't promise I'll answer, of course--it may be classified."

She laughed. "I doubt this is--though you never know. But... is she crazy?"

"Cathy? Oh, don't look so surprised, Hermione. I knew her for a long time. And I can answer you that, no, unfortunately, Catherine Hemmings is not crazy."

"Unfortunately? What--"

"Because if she was, that would provide a sensible and clear explanation for why she does the things she does. As it is, I just don't understand what goes through her head at all. But believe me, Hermione, I'm more certain of Lieutenant Colonel Hemmings' sanity than I am of my own." With that, he headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione."

She sat down to gather her thoughts. While this new assignment looked to be interesting, she wished it wasn't even more covered in secrecy than the usual work at Fifty-One. She wished she could talk to Ron about it. She wished she could give Harry the information he needed. She wished she wouldn't have to look at aftermath of terrorist acts again.

Wishing was pointless. But she could forget about all of it for the next fifteen hours, at least, and go home to those who loved her. She felt she'd need that before getting involved with the hunt for Hund. She certainly wouldn't get that from Colonel Hemmings.