Behind Closed Doors

CHAPTER TWO - REASSIGNMENT

Regular, customary confusion and hubbub was what Hermione encountered upon entering the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic. Even in all its commotion, it still looked absolutely splendid. Of course, Hermione had seen this hall nearly every day for the past six years, but it never ceased to amaze her.

For a moment, Hermione stopped to watch wizards randomly appear out of the innumerable fireplaces lining the side walls. She tried to suppress a giggle when an extremely short wizard stumbled out of a fireplace and did an odd flip to catch his balance, only to land at a posh witch's feet. Another woman some fifteen feet away was walking backwards while trying to balance several cups of coffee and a massive stack of papers in her arms at the same time. She would undoubtedly soon collide with one of the other unaware wizards scurrying around (though Hermione was sure no one else was walking backwards quite like this woman was).

The fountain in the center of the room was still flowing grandly, as it always did. Hermione noticed several young wizards and witches leaning against the stone structure, all with silly grins plastered across their faces. Hermione recognized them immediately; they were fresh recruits for a new project opening in the Spell Damage department, and they obviously had no idea what they were doing (just last week Hermione had caught them in the Ministry cafeteria levitating the chairs and tables with their occupants were still seated in them).

Hermione knew the adolescents were supposed to be in training instead of socializing, and she was about to tell them off, but a nearby squeal caused her to stiffen in apprehension. She looked over her shoulder to see a young witch known as Josie Hacklebush, the frenzied and unorganized assistant to the Headmistress at Hogwarts (she was clearly incapable of actually being Minerva McGonagall's second-in-command at the school, and had been taken on merely as her assistant), practically sprinting down the hall towards Hermione.

"Hermione!" she called excitedly. "Hermione, it's me, Josie! Hermione!"

Hermione winced. Josie had only been the assistant at Hogwarts for a short time and still wasn't sure how to handle it. When McGonagall first became the official Headmistress many years ago (years that were still blurry to Hermione and difficult to think about), after Albus Dumbledore's tragic and unforgettable murder, a co-Headmaster or Mistress had never been employed. Hermione was rather surprised at this, but she never doubted McGonagall's capability once. Josie used to be the secretary in her office at the Ministry (which was how Hermione had discovered her new position) and, apparently, was still called in every so often, to Hermione's utter delight.

"Hello, Josie," Hermione said in false exuberance as Josie skidded to a halt before her. The girl was around the age of twenty, only a few years younger than Hermione, and was possibly the most unstructured person Hermione had ever met. She was appropriately kind, of course - if not a little eccentric at times - but she absolutely worshipped Hermione almost to a point of obsession. "You're an idol to women everywhere," Josie told Hermione upon their first meeting. It was then that Hermione learned to evade spending excess time with Josie Hacklebush.

Josie brushed aside the frizzy blonde hair that was falling from her messy bun out of her eyes and pushed her glasses up the slope of her nose. "Did you hear about that fire this morning, Hermione? I saw it on the Muggle news and it's in the paper. Do you get the paper, Hermione? Did you read it this morning? The Daily Prophet did a really big article on it -"

Hermione winced. She didn't want to think about the fire again. In fact, she thought she felt a headache coming on from listening to Josie's incessant chatter, and vaguely wandered if the young girl was fueled completely by coffee.

"Really, Josie? I -"

"Mr. Lawson had me come into his office this morning because he said that Minerva is going to be out for the next week for meetings or something like that, I'm not very sure, but he wants me to run Hogwarts while she's gone, and I couldn't believe it at all, because I've never run something before by myself and I don't really know what to do but Bella said she would give me some pointers in case the students get out of hand, which I hope they don't, because I don't really want to give Minerva a bad report when she gets back or she'll think I didn't do a good job running the school and I'll never get to fill in for her again or get a pay raise or -"

"That's quite a run-on sentence," Hermione corrected her without thinking. Josie blinked several times in question, most likely surprised at being interrupted in the midst of an important conversation. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll do fine. Listen, did Lawson say anything about me this morning?"

"You?" Josie asked, her eyes growing wide in idolism. "You, Hermione? Why would Mr. Lawson ever say anything about you? You're his favorite employee. He would never say anything about you. He was talking about that odd fire that sprang up this morning, though. Where was it? A tire barn? A grocery? And he mentioned something about Death Eaters too, I think."

"I was just wondering, since this morning he sent me a Ho -"

Hermione was cut off when an earsplitting scream followed by several loud thuds silenced the entire room. Looking behind her, Hermione found that the woman who had been walking backwards finally collided with someone and they were both lying tangled on the shiny wooden floor in a large sea of pieces and rolls of parchment.

"ROGERS!" shouted a boiling Duke Lawson, the man that had collided with the woman (who was also Hermione's boss and the same Mr. Lawson Josie had been rambling on about just moments before). "I've spilled my coffee on your papers," he noted, bending down to look at one, "... which happen to be the recordings from this morning's Macadam trial!"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Lawson," the backwards woman mumbled continuously while unsuccessfully attempting to wipe the growing coffee stains from the important parchment. "I'll just use a quick spell to get this off...I'm so very sorry, I'll be more careful next time..."

"There won't be a next time if the coffee doesn't come out of those recordings," Lawson spat, pushing himself to his feet. He examined the brown coffee dots on his cream-colored robes for several moments and shouted after the woman as she scurried away, "And you owe me a new set of robes, Rogers."

Duke Lawson was a tall and quite attractive man of around forty years. He didn't much look like a wizard, in Hermione's opinion; he had a smooth face and dark, shortly-trimmed hair. His robes, which were most usually a color of rich cream, were the only identification that he did in fact work at the Ministry. Hermione always thought he looked rather like a lawyer.

He was the global head of the Wizard Intelligence Agency (or the WIA, as it was most commonly known as), which was Hermione's department of specialization at the Ministry. Working closely alongside many Aurors, slinking around suspicious scenes, communicating with other Agencies, gathering clues, and assisting in the captures of Dark wizards was what this man lived for. No wonder he isn't married, Hermione had thought countless times.

As soon as Lawson straightened his jacket and readjusted the front of his marred robes, he caught sight of Hermione standing next to Josie (who was currently bouncing from foot to foot and waving at various people around the room.) Hermione briefly considered Apparating home, but her boss had opened his mouth with a fiery look in his eyes before she could come to a decision.

"GRANGER!" Lawson shouted, turning several heads. "Granger, it's about time you showed up. And you're late."

Hermione was very rarely late; she usually prided herself in being on time. "How can I be late when we're not in your office?" Hermione countered.

"Don't get smart with me, Granger; we've got matters to attend to straight away. Follow me," he added, flattening his robes once more before marching away down the hall.

"Hello, Mr. Lawson!" Josie called merrily to his retreating back. She received no answer.

Hermione lamentably followed her still infuriated boss up to the first floor in the elevator, where the Wizard Intelligence Agency Headquarters was located, down two narrow hallways, up three staircases, down five more, and round a corner before they arrived at the entrance to the WIA headquarters. Lawson pushed open the sparkling glass doors that showed a reflection of an aggravated boss and a timid employee.

Inside was an entirely separate world from the rest of the building. Much like in the Auror Headquarters, which was conveniently only a floor away, the room was split up into cubicles for each Agent. Tall glass windows occupying two whole walls illuminated the busy room in brilliant magical sunlight (compliments of the satisfying enchanted windows which were, in all actuality, fake, as the Ministry was underground). Owls of all breeds were constantly arriving and departing with official-looking envelopes in their beaks. Important papers of various meaning to the Agents were stacked against desks around the room while the Agents themselves were busy scribbling in their notepads, hanging over the cubicles having heated conversations with their neighbors, or examining oddly drawn maps of different continents. Sometimes a day off from such commotion wasn't such a bad thing. Hermione, however, wouldn't want to work anywhere else for her life.

"Take them off," a blonde woman Hermione knew as Marcia was commanding a man across the aisle from her cubicle. "You look absolutely ridiculous, Dan."

"Why?" Dan asked. "Everyone's wearing them. Bertie over in cubicle twenty-nine charmed his so the lenses change colors every two minutes."

"Take them off!" Marcia repeated exasperatedly. "Dan, no one wears sunglasses inside."

"Muggle spies do," Dan protested, pointing to the dark glasses covering his eyes. "Haven't you ever seen a Muggle film? They were glasses."

"No, I haven't," Marcia said bluntly. "They look stupid. And no, I won't put a pair on, either."

Dan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Come on, Marcia. We're getting everyone to do it. Chris and Betsy put a pair in everyone's mailboxes yesterday."

The sunglasses dispute continued on while Hermione trailed behind Lawson to the other side of the room where the private offices were located. Along the way, she couldn't help but notice several other employees sporting the dark sunglasses. For a moment, she wondered why she hadn't received a pair in her mailbox.

"I didn't order two thousand leeches, Mildred, I ordered two hundred!" a woman was shouting into a nearby fireplace. The head of the other woman, Mildred, was moving her mouth quite rapidly to respond to the frantic woman's complaints.

"Don't know why you need leeches anyway, Karen. They suck the blood right out of you. Oddly suspicious, if you ask me," Mildred replied simply.

"I know what they do! Just cancel the order immediately or we'll see how you like getting the blood sucked out of you!"

Even though working as an Agent was a highly serious job, Hermione reflected, that hardly meant that all of her coworkers were serious. She was never failed to be amused.

Bringing her eyes back forward, she noticed they had arrived at Lawson's office. Two doors down was Hermione's own private office. For a moment she felt rather proud at having her own office to herself and away from the chaos of the rest of Headquarters, but her moment of pride quickly disappeared as Lawson ushered her into his own office.

"Take a seat, Granger."

When Hermione had settled into one of Lawson's squishy green armchairs and Duke himself was positioned behind his notable chestnut desk, their eyes met and Hermione sensed a feeling of gravity in what he was about to say.

"This morning at approximately five o'clock, a fire broke out at a shoe warehouse near Surrey. Did you or did you not know about this?"

Hermione gulped, remembering the Howler again. "I - I was sleeping at the time, but I did see it on the Muggle news."

"You were sleeping," Lawson stated incredulously. "I see. A good agent would have been sleeping at five o'clock, but a great agent would have been ready if something like this came up - which it did."

Hermione nodded slowly, knowing she was a great agent, but great agents had to get their rest, too. She was quite unsure where the conversation was going, really, and a nauseous feeling began to develop in her stomach.

"True, there wasn't much you could have accomplished had you been there. It was blaringly obvious what had happened, and anyone could've figured out the fire was started by Dark wizards...maybe even Death Eaters."

"What?" Hermione asked, taken aback by Lawson's last words. She then remembered Josie mentioning Death Eaters in their short encounter in the Atrium, but Hermione never really took anything Josie said to heart.

Lawson nodded, picking up the coffee cup on his desk and bringing it to his mouth while simultaneously glancing down at the front of his spotted robes.

"But - but there haven't been any Death Eater sightings around here since..." Hermione trailed off, knowing what she wanted to say but unable to say it. Since my parents were killed were the words she couldn't speak. Since I graduated from Hogwarts. Since Voldemort was defeated. Since I stopped talking to my two best friends and went off alone in the world.

"I know," Lawson said. "We all know. That's why this is so serious. You can't be slacking off now, Hermione. We don't want to jump to any conclusions. To be honest, the fire was probably started by a few reckless teenagers who don't know how to use wands. We have the Improper Use of Magic Office looking into it now."

Hermione let out a long, low breath. "Yes, that's most likely it. Why would you consider Death Eaters, though? I thought they were all dead, or too cowardly to ever return to society -"

"They are," Lawson muttered. "You know we tried tracking them, but they aren't stupid, Death Eaters. True, most of them are dead by now, but it would be foolish to assume they still didn't exist, somewhere out there. Hiding. Hoping that some day, someone new will come along they can rally with, but knowing that it's really over..." He broke off and stopped rubbing his robes (the coffee stain was not relenting in the least). Then, coming to his senses, he pulled out his wand, muttered something, and with a little flash, his robes were completely cream once again. "Still, it's best to rule out the worst when a situation like this arises," he continued. "It was just suspicious is all."

Hermione began rocking back and forth, trying to pound all this new information into her brain. Though she wasn't wholly convinced the freak fire was an accident, she trusted her boss, and if anything concerning missing Dark wizards ever came into light, she knew that he would inform her as soon as possible. She decided not to dwell on it any longer. "So...so you called me in here today to tell me this? Because, honestly, after that Howler, I thought I was going to get f -"

"We're not done," Lawson said crisply, cutting off Hermione's weak attempt at a laugh. His composed, almost pleasant manner had evaporated. "I called you in here today because I'm reassigning you."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, rising to her feet and nearly knocking her chair over. A large portion of the outside room swiveled around to peer in through the glass windows of the office.

"I said I'm reassigning you, Granger."

No, no, Hermione silently berated herself. Why did I ever say anything? This is his way of saying I'm getting fired. I knew it.

"But - I didn't - I mean -"

"I'm reassigning you to work at Hogwarts for the remainder of the school year," Lawson said loudly in an effort to override Hermione's incoherent stutters. "You're not losing your job. Not completely. You're going to be working undercover. Odd occurrences have been reported at the school lately, concerning some of the students, and I want you there on the scene to conduct important investigation."

"But - Hogwarts?" asked a puzzled Hermione. She suddenly felt quite faint. Admittedly, she hadn't thought about Hogwarts in quite some time. It was painful. It cropped up old memories, some that made her want to cry, others that only enraged her. "You mean - I have to go back?"

Lawson simply nodded.

Feeling overwhelmed at this unexpected news, Hermione quickly asked, "What's going on there?"

"That's your job to find out, now, isn't it?" Lawson said curtly. He gathered several rolls of parchment in his arms and walked to the front of his office. Hermione, who still hadn't sat back down, followed him as he opened the door and exited the private room. The WIA headquarters was still as busy as ever on the other side, with various people shouting at one another, whisking in and out the door, and pouring over their work. Vociferous noise met Hermione's ears once again as more sunglasses-clad agents approached her all at once, asking what had happened in Lawson's office.

"Wait!" Hermione called after her boss, who was making his way back to the other side of the room. She pushed through the small crowd that was forming around her and stubbornly went after Lawson. "I'm going back to Hogwarts?" She was on the verge of yelling, " I can't go back there!", but thought better of it. Instead, she finished with, "What am I going to do, supervise classes? Work with McGonagall?"

A mental image of Hermione tailing Josie all day long with a clipboard sent chills up her spine.

"No," Lawson said. Hermione waited for a more elaborate answer, but when she didn't receive one, she continued to persist.

"Then what will I be doing? How am I going to investigate? Will I have to hold conferences with the students? And where will I be staying? I won't have to travel back and forth from my home to the school every day, will I?"

"You're starting to sound like Hacklebush," Lawson snapped. "Everything has already been arranged and you're due to arrive at Hogwarts next Monday promptly at noon. While you are there, you are to report directly to Minerva McGonagall should anything suspicious arrive, who will in turn contact me if she feels the need."

The two were nearing the door and Hermione was beginning to grow impatient. Her most important question still hadn't been answered. "Mr. Lawson, you haven't told me what exactly I'll be doing at Hogwarts."

Lawson reached for the knob and opened the door, but instead of leaving, he turned around to face Hermione with a calm expression on his face.

"Doing? You'll be teaching, of course. Transfiguration, to be exact. They never did find a good replacement after McGonagall was appointed Headmistress. I heard you received quite high marks on your Transfiguration N.E.W.T., and Minerva seems to think you're capable for the job. You'll receive an owl tomorrow with more information. Good day, Miss Granger."

And with that, Duke Lawson disappeared behind the door, leaving Hermione completely dazed and confused in a room filled with dozens of people wearing absurd, dark sunglasses.