The Ransom of Albus Dumbledore

5. WORDS OF WARNING

Hermione woke the next morning in a fit of longing to be off on the quest to save Professor Dumbledore, but she still had to report in and see if the new Headmistress had any last minute chores for her to do. As she allowed the moving spiral staircase to propel her up to the office, she heard McGonagall's slightly nasal contralto, tinged with petulance. "You had only to ask. There was no need--"

A voice answered, "Once again, I apologize." "My people overstepped their bounds a bit, I admit--" But this voice did not sound in the least apologetic.

"A bit?" the Headmistress echoed sarcastically. "You should have seen what those ruffians did. This place was a shambles!"

The door was wide open. Hermione saw the back of the other speaker first. He was on the short side, and wearing a dark cloak. But it could not mute his powerful presence, the broad shoulders, thick neck, and massive, squarish head with a lion's mane of hair streaked yellow, white, and gray.

Minerva McGonagall, who was standing behind the desk, turned sharply at Hermione's entrance. "You're early, Miss Granger."

Hermione hesitated in the doorway. "I'm sorry, Professor. Shall I come back later?"

The man turned and gave her a careless glance. She thought she might have met him before. He made her think of wintertime for some reason. Was it his girth, the high color of his cheeks, the pince-nez, all trademarks of Father Christmas, the 'founder of the feast'? But the lines about the mouth and forehead spoke of a grim tenacity and a shrewdness alien to her image of a jolly old elf. And he was beardless.

"That's all right," said the man brusquely. "I was just leaving." He turned on his heel and limped to the door.

But the Headmistress, at least, remembered her manners. "Minister, this is Hermione Granger, one of our very best students. Miss Granger, the current head of the Ministry, Rufus Scrimgeour." Professor McGonagall emphasized the word current as if she hoped that his tenure would be a short one.

Hermione inclined her head. "Magus Scrimgeour, how nice to meet you."

Now she remembered. Scrimgeour had imprisoned a clueless young wizard named Stan Shunpike on the merest suspicion of Death Eater activity. He had also used Percy Weasley as an emotional wedge to gain access to Harry at the Weasleys' Christmas dinner last year. He had tried on more than one occasion to badger Harry into acting as a 'poster boy' for the Ministry, the last confrontation coming at Dumbledore's funeral, when Harry was at his most vulnerable. And now he had ordered the ransacking of this very office before its chief occupant was cold in his grave.

How could she have thought he looked anything like Father Christmas? This man was a taker, not a giver. He weighed people's value by their political clout. Hermione smiled grimly. She could imagine Rufus Scrimgeour frowning over a list of children, deciding who was worthy of a toy and who would receive a lump of coal. But his decisions would not be based on justice or any lesson the gift might teach, but on the expediency of the moment.

"Hermione Granger?" The Minister had stopped in front of her and was staring at her with interest. Now he smiled too. "The pleasure is all mine." He made to take her hand, but she was busy trying to keep her composure to notice. "I've heard a great deal about you."

"Oh?"

"Indeed! The Ministry keeps a close watch on the... progress of students here at the school. You received a raft of Outstanding O.W.Ls, I believe."

"Ten," she replied automatically. "And one EE."

"Mmmm... yes. And captain of the Gobstones team too."

"Ah... no...."

"I must be thinking of someone else. You play Quidditch, don't you?"

"Hardly."

"But you're a prefect?"

Hermione only nodded, blank-faced. She recognized this probing spiel. It was just like Professor Trelawney's fishing expeditions in Divination class. Go ahead, she thought cynically. Make lots of vague statements and watch for a reaction. You're bound to hit on a bit of truth sooner or later.

Scrimgeour was rambling on: "...your parents did equally well at Hogwarts I'm sure..."

"No," she said, carefully keeping the note of triumph out of her voice. "I'm Muggle-born."

"Oh, I must be thinking of another Granger..."

Professor McGonagall interrupted impatiently. "Stop talking nonsense, Rufus. Have you anything further to say? Because if not, Miss Granger and I have work to do."

He turned to her and gave a perfunctory bow. "Once again, Minerva, I offer my apologies for the state of your...office. I'll speak to the appropriate department about it. It needn't happen again."

"It would not be wise, in any case. Not good for the image, do you think? Aurors on wild goose chases, tearing up school property..."

"Ah... please, let's not trouble Miss Granger with our petty quarrels. I wonder--do you mind if she sees me to the gate?"

"That won't be necessary. I can remove the Floo Restrictor quite easily..."

"No, really, I feel the need for a little exercise. Perhaps a walk to the Three Broomsticks and a small firewhisky. In my position... sitting behind a desk all day, signing papers, delegating work... one gets a bit stiff... I'm used to more action, as you know."

"Yes, Rufus, I know. Well, if Miss Granger is willing, she can take some things over to Albus's brother as well. I was going to have the house elves do it, but they're still a bit... unsettled..."

"Afraid to leave the grounds, are they? You know, I could send one or two of my own..."

"No, thank you, Minister. Miss Granger, come with me a moment."

Hermione followed the Headmistress into a storeroom. A satchel sat on the floor. The Bag of Holding. "It's very heavy with all those magigadgets. I'll just put a Lightening Charm on it," Professor McGonagall said, fumbling in the pocket of her robe.

"I can do it, Professor," said Hermione.

"Oh?"

Hermione waved her wand in a complicated series of loops, and said the spell, which was longer than most. When she hefted the satchel, it was light as air. She stifled the urge to say "Ta-dahhhh!"

"You are a wonder, child," murmured her teacher. "I can't tell you how many students have never come even close to mastering that one."

"Goodness," said Hermione. "I'd think everyone would want to practice it. It's so very handy."

"It seems to require a high level of dexterity and recall, not to say concentration. Most long-lasting spells do. I'd say only one wizard in ten manages it."

"I guess most are happy to stop at a simple Leviosa. It is so much easier. But of course Levitation only lasts a short time."

"Yes." Professor McGonagall looked at her for a long moment, then seemed to come to herself. "Ah--you know where you're going?"

"Hogsmeade you said, but--"

"The Hog's Head. It's a pub--"

"Oh I know where it is."

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "You do?"

Hermione blushed. "Um, well it's a long story--"

"--which no doubt involves Messrs. Potter and Weasley. Collecting bezoars I suppose."

"Well--erm--no. You see--"

"Don't trouble me with the details. It's probably best that I not know what use the three of you had for that den of dust and devilment. Suffice it to say that Aberforth Dumbledore is the proprietor. He's there most days--behind the bar--and he has his digs upstairs."

Hermione had trouble digesting this at first. The brother of the greatest headmaster of the greatest school of magic in the wizarding world was a bartender? And there was that other remark...

"Erm--professor, why did you think we'd be collecting bezoars at the Hog's Head?"

"Aberforth has a fondness for goats--er--for their milk I believe. He keeps a small herd of them out back of the pub."

As Hermione picked up the satchel, Professor McGonagall laid a hand on her arm. "Be careful what you say in front of the Minister, my dear. He has a number of...hidden motivations."

"You mean about Harry?"

"Yes, among other people. He'd give anything to get a spy inside this place. You heard his offer to send some of his own Elves over here to take up the slack."

"You think they'd act as spies for the Ministry?"

"Let's just say I wouldn't trust a gift from Rufus Scrimgeour any farther than I could throw a mountain troll."

~*~

Hermione deliberately set a fast pace down the castle hallways, hoping the Minister, with his gimpy gait, would have to concentrate all his efforts on keeping up with her, but he surprised her with the smoothness of his stride. The limp had, in fact, disappeared altogether.

"Ah, Miss Granger, what's in the satchel, may I ask?" Rufus Scrimgeour was obviously still fishing for information.

"Some things for Professor Dumbledore's brother, sir."

"Aberforth Dumbledore. Now there's an interesting history. Bad blood between the two of them, I understand."

Hermione refused to take that bait, though the image it conjured was a disturbing one.

He tried another tack: "I imagine being Muggle-born, all this must have been a great challenge."

"You mean coming to Hogwarts?" she asked coolly. "It's been rather exhilarating, actually."

His voice took on a hint of humility. "I suppose for one with your gifts, spell work was just another interesting puzzle to solve."

"You could say that."

"Your friend Harry Potter had many of the same kinds of obstacles to overcome, didn't he? Being brought up by Muggles--the Durtsies, am I right?"

They had reached the front door, and she used opening it as an excuse not to reply--not even to correct the name of Harry's odious relatives. When they were out in the open air, under a hot, cloudless sky, he tried another tack.

"I heard you doing that Lightening Charm. Works very nicely, doesn't it?"

Hermione was a bit unnerved by this. Had he been listening to her conversation with the Headmistress?

He hastened to explain. "Oh, I wasn't eavesdropping, I promise you. But I recognized the cant. And you do have a very penetrating voice, Miss Granger."

"Oh."

"I can understand why you'd be suspicious. I suppose you know I started out as an Auror. We do develop more sensitive ears than most."

"I didn't think that would be important--for a wizard, I mean."

"Oh, yes, very important. The job's not all fancy gadgets and gizmos, you see. You have to use your five senses--and your brain. Yes, a keen mind is very important."

Hermione smiled at this. It sounded like he was going to offer her a job. She wasn't in the least interested in being an Auror for his regime, of course.

"But even more important is instinct," he continued, catching her eye. His gaze, out of bronze-colored eyes, was almost hypnotic. "To feel in your bones when something is wrong. When something strategically dangerous or important is 'going down', so to speak."

Hermione wrenched her focus away from the old man and concentrated on the tops of nearby trees. Her heart started pounding, but it wasn't from the exercise. The Minister's pace had quickened as they passed the Quidditch pitch, but she had no problem with that. No, what concerned her was the tone of his voice. He was like a hound on the scent, and she was feeling more and more like a beleaguered fox.

Scrimgeour pursued his point: "You're Harry Potter's best friend aren't you?"

"I am a friend of Harry's, but Ron's his best mate."

"Ron? Ron who?"

"Ronald Weasley."

"Oh...really? One of Arthur Weasley's brood?"

"Yes."

"Percy Weasley's little brother?"

"Yes, of course!" Why was Ron such a nonentity to everyone? "Ron's not just 'Percy's little brother', you know."

"Oh, no?"

"In fact, he's not little at all. He's the tallest of them all. And he's a Prefect too, in case you didn't know. And Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"Ah--"

And--he's just about the best Wizard Chess player in the whole Magicosm!" She fell silent suddenly. Why was she bothering to defend Ron to a man she had not an ounce of respect for?

There was a silence, then.: "Please, Miss Granger, could we slow down, just a bit?"

Hermione stopped and turned. The Minister was several yards behind her and panting heavily. In her anger, she had apparently picked up the pace beyond the Minister's breathing capacity. And his limp was showing again.

When he reached her, he mopped his brow with a conjured hankie. "I see. Quidditch Keeper and a prefect. Gone his brothers one better, has he?"

"Yeh--esss," she replied carefully. They started walking again more slowly.

"I should have known. All those Weasley boys are clever chaps. Credit their Prewitt blood, I think. You say Ron's good at chess?"

"I've never beaten him." She tried but failed to keep the rising irritation out of her voice.

"Nor has Harry Potter, I'll wager."

"No." He was starting on Harry again, but Hermione would not bite on that subject.

The Minister of Magic sighed. "You paint a very pretty picture of your friend. Loyalty is a quality to be admired in the young...but it might be considered a luxury in these dangerous times."

"I would think it was even more important now--to be faithful to one's friends."

"Perhaps--but politically speaking--"

She stopped and faced him. "Listen, Minister, you might as well know right now. I'm always going to be on Harry's side...and...Professor Dumbledore's--"

"Dumbledore's dead."

"Well, to his memory then, to the ideals he stood for."

"And what are those? Truth, Justice, and the Wizarding Way?"

"Among others, yes."

"Would it surprise you to hear that your wonderful Headmaster was one of the most accomplished prevaricators I've ever known?"

"What? He's no liar--he--"

"Oh, I wouldn't brand him a liar actually. His sins are more ones of omission. It's the professor in him. As a scholar you know, I'm sure, that teachers only tell their classes so much. Do you know why? It's so that their students won't be able to use their superior knowledge against them later. That's the chief reason why Dolores Umbridge wouldn't let you all practice Defensive Charms last year."

"Well, that's no surprise."

"Dumbledore's always been cagey like that--with the Ministry, as well as with...his students. I don't believe in his whole life he ever did tell anyone the whole truth about anything."

"He did too! He told Harry everything he could find out about Tom Riddle's past--" She flushed at her statement, put her hand to her mouth, then started to walk again quickly towards the school gates, hoping this former Auror had missed those last words.

He called after her. "Thank you, Miss Granger. It's been a pleasure talking to you."

She stopped, her heart filled with dread, and stammered weakly, "I--I--you're welcome."

"Oh, I'm sure I'm not welcome, not welcome at all. But that's all right." He limped slowly towards her. "How interesting. Albus Dumbledore told Harry Potter all he knew about Lord Voldemort. And why would he do that, hmmm? Unless he knew that Harry was indeed the so-called Chosen One. That he would need that knowledge to help him defeat the Dark Lord."

"That's not what I said."

"It is what you implied."

"No!"

"My dear little pedant, with your eleven Outstanding O.W.L.s and your intensely competitive nature, you do miss so many obvious facts. Aurors learn very early to wait patiently for little slips like that one. Makes for some very useful information."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Hermione--I may call you that, mayn't I--Harry needs protection, don't you see that? With an army of Aurors at his back, he could be so much more effective--"

"No, that won't work. Dumbledore didn't trust the Ministry. If he thought you could help, he would have asked you--"

A note of testiness sharpened the Minister's voice. "Why do you keep coming back to Dumbledore--as if he were Merlin himself?"

"All I know is that he kept Harry alive all these years, even with the Death Eaters looking for him. It must have been hell for Harry, having to live with the Dursleys, but it was necessary to his survival, and Dumbledore knew it."

"Yes, I heard about all that. The power of love--"

"Yes--and loyalty--and all that that means. Qualities you wouldn't understand with all your scheming and political cover-ups, Minister."

He looked as if she had just slapped him in the face. "I stand corrected."

"Yes, and you stand alone." She started walking again. The gateway was only a few yards away, and he needed no escort now.

He called after her. "So you're going to help him in this....quest...to defeat the Dark Lord?"

"Yes, and Ron too. If Harry will let us."

"I'm sure he will. The question is: will you be able to?"

She kept walking. The old hound was in pursuit again. But was he closing in for the kill or just bluffing, knowing he was beaten?

He continued: "I won't be defeated in this, Hermione Granger. You young people don't realize the harm you could do. If you put a foot wrong, it could spell the end of all we've worked for: the Ministry as we know it--"

His last words came at her from her side. She was startled to realize that he had caught up with her. "Would that be such a bad thing?" she said, refusing to look at him.

"Of course it would. Who keeps order in the Magicosm--gives it purpose and structure-- if not its Ministries of Magic? Oh, I know there are lawless pockets--America comes to mind--but by and large, we do an excellent job of keeping Wizardkind safe and sane."

"You're not doing such a good job of it at the moment, Minister."

"Yes, but that's in the main because your Mister Potter won't cooperate. So I'm sorry to say that I'm going to have to do something a bit drastic about that."

They had arrived together at the gates and passed through them. Hermione stopped again and faced the old hound. This was it. The coupe de grace for the fox or the dog's retreat with its tail between its legs.

"What's that? What are you going to do?"

He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. It read:

------------By order of--------------

THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

No student shall be considered 'of age'
and allowed to do magic off school property,
until he or she has actually completed his or her
seventh year of magical schooling.

The above is in accordance with
Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine.

Signed:

Rufus Scrimgeour
Minister of Magic

-------------------------------------

She read it through twice. "You can't do this."

"I can. I just did. This morning--at 8:02."

"But that means--"

"What it means is it buys the Ministry some time, before you go off half-cocked on your little mission to save the wizarding world. You and your seventh-year friends are banned from performing magic off campus until next summer, unless you want to risk being caught and banished from the Magicosm forever."

"Th-that won't stop Harry--or Ron."

"But it might give you pause, eh Miss Granger? Oh, I know you. You're just like Percy Weasley." He lowered his voice to a nasty, mocking whisper. "Just have to follow the rules, don't you?"

"No, I don't--"

"And you do so want to make good in our world, don't you, hard-working little Muggle-born that you are? Yes, my dear Miss Granger, you'll have a very difficult time forcing yourself to go against this decree. Oh, I know you've bent the rules here at the school. But that's not like breaking a real law promulgated by a real government with the power to punish... to imprison... to exile... "

"Why are you doing this?" she cried, on the verge of tears.

Any little thing I can do to stop Harry Potter from destroying the Magicosm will be all to the good."

"Whether I help him or not--that won't stop him."

"Aha! But not having you guarding his flank wouldn't be just a little setback, would it? Your hero--or is it your boyfriend?--Ron Weasley may be a chess whiz, and Harry may excel in Magical Defense, but you're the real brains of this operation, Miss Granger. Without you--well--Potter may at least have second thoughts. And if that slows him down--"

"But you can't--you don't understand--I need my magic--have to--"

"You have to what, Miss Granger? Oho, got another little scheme of your own going? Not going to hunt for Voldemort yourself, are you? Steal a little of the glory from the Chosen One?"

"NO!"

"I'm no Legilimens, my dear, but methinks you do protest too much." He gripped her arms and looked into her eyes. "Oh, yes, you've got plans all right. But what they are, I've no idea. Perhaps a clue lies in that bag of yours--"

He tried to grab the satchel. Hermione wrenched away from him and broke into a run down the path to Hogsmeade. He didn't try to stop her, but just laughed long and loud before Disapparating.