Subversive

The meeting was set for midnight.

It was the safest hour. The streets would be at their quietest, the city locked under Voldemort’s enforced curfew. Any patrols would be thinner, most of the Death Eaters either asleep in their homes or prowling in the more populated areas of London, searching for Muggleborns, rebels, or entertainment.

The safe house had been warded carefully, layered with protective spells that even the most skilled Dark wizards would have difficulty unraveling. Andromeda Tonks had spent years fortifying the place, weaving protections even Hermione had never seen before. Yet no amount of magic could fully erase the ever-present fear that lurked in the back of all their minds—that one day, the spells wouldn’t be enough.

Hermione stood at the center of the sitting room, rolling a quill between her fingers, waiting for the last few stragglers to arrive. Around her, the faces of the Resistance’s remnants flickered in the dim candlelight. Some were sharp and eager, like Ginny, who sat on the arm of a torn armchair, her hands wrapped tightly around her wand. Others looked hollow, their eyes sunken from too many sleepless nights, their spirits dimmed by the years of losing.

Ron entered the room last, his jaw tight as he took a seat beside Ginny. His eyes met Hermione’s briefly, and she saw the weight of his brother’s absence written plainly across his face. They would do this for Charlie. For all of them.

Hermione cleared her throat. “We have an opportunity,” she began, her voice steady, firm. “We have a contact inside the Ministry who has access to high-level information—Tracey Davis. She’s willing to get us inside.”

A murmur rippled through the group, but Hermione pushed forward.

“She works in the Department of Public Order and Security,” she continued. “She has access to files on every captured Resistance member. If we do this right, we can get the names of those who are imprisoned, where they’re being held, and who’s watching them.” She hesitated. “And if we’re lucky, we can get them out.”
The room went silent.

McGonagall, seated stiffly by the fire, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a tight knot, was the first to speak. “This is incredibly dangerous.” Her voice was hoarse, a shadow of what it once had been, but it carried the same sharp authority. “The Department of Public Order is the very heart of Voldemort’s control. If you’re caught, you won’t be given a trial. You won’t even be sent to Azkaban.” Her expression darkened. “You’ll be made an example of.”

Hermione swallowed. She already knew that.

“Then we won’t get caught,” Ginny said sharply. “We’ve snuck people into the Ministry before. Polyjuice, Disillusionment Charms—it’s possible.”

“It’s not just sneaking in that’s the problem,” Filius Flitwick added, his small frame barely visible between the others. “It’s getting out. If we’re discovered, we won’t have the numbers to fight our way back.”

Daphne Greengrass leaned forward, her arms crossed. “Tracey has a plan,” she said. “She’ll be able to sneak two—maybe three—of us in through the lower levels. From there, we’ll have to move quickly.”

Hermione exhaled. “That’s why we need to pick carefully who goes. The Ministry is crawling with Death Eaters, and they know our faces.” She turned to Ron. “Polyjuice Potion will be necessary, but we can’t rely on it for too long. If we’re in there too long, the magic will wear off, and if they catch us changing—”

“They’ll know.” Ron’s voice was grim.

Cho crossed her arms. “So who goes?”

Hermione hesitated. “I’ll go.”

“No.” Ron’s response was immediate.

Hermione shot him a sharp look. “Yes.”

“Hermione—”

“I’m the best at breaking enchantments and wards,” she interrupted. “And if something goes wrong, I’ll be the one who has the best chance of improvising. You know that.”

Ron scowled, but he didn’t argue.

“I’ll go with her,” Daphne said. “I know Tracey. She trusts me. If something goes sideways, I’ll be able to get us to her.”

Ginny sat up straighter. “I should go too.”

“No.” This time, it was Hermione who objected. “Ginny, you’re—”

“I’m what? Too hot-tempered?” Ginny’s eyes flashed. “Too reckless? You need someone who’s good at dueling, in case things go wrong.”

Hermione exhaled slowly. “We need you here. If something happens to us, the Resistance needs someone to lead.”

Ginny’s face hardened, but she said nothing.

Hermione turned back to the group. “We’ll go...” she thought for a moment, "as soon as we can. Daphne and I will take Polyjuice. We’ll meet Tracey inside, retrieve the files, and get out before anyone notices.”

The plan sounded simple when she said it out loud. It wasn’t.

But it was their best chance.

<>

The meeting dispersed slowly, members murmuring amongst themselves, their voices heavy with unease. The room emptied, some people leaving the house entirely, until only Hermione and Ron remained in the sitting room.

Ron leaned against the wall, his jaw tight. “This is a bad idea. I understand we have to get those files. But you shouldn't be going.”

“Ron-" She started gently.

He stared down at her. “Let someone else go. Someone other than you. You're too valuable an asset for the Resistance. Hermione, I can go-" He pleaded.

Hermione interrupted him. “You know I have the skills to do it Ron. I've gone on these types of missions before. And this time I'll have Daphne.”

"But-but those other times there was never a middle man. I know earlier today when Daphne and I came back, I was set on doing it, but...but now thinking over it more, and the risks of it, of you going... Hermione-what if Tracey isn't trustworthy. What if something goes wrong."

"We'll be fine Ron." Hermione said, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Ever since Harry had died in the battle of Hogwarts, his body paraded through the castle, Ron had become incredibly, almost ridiculously protective of Hermione. After losing one of their three, he had been like a shadow over Hermione, protecting her.

There was nothing else to say. Ron sighed heavily. He knew he couldn't convince Hermione not to go.

Ginny reentered the room, running a hand over her face. She stepped forward, looking at Hermione and searching her eyes with her own.

“I just spoke with Daphne. She's uh, she's pretty set on this. Quite determined." Ginny spoke, chewing her lip.

"Just...come back,” she said quietly.

Hermione forced a small smile. “I always do.”

But she wasn’t sure if this time, that would be true.

<>

Hermione braided her hair tightly into two long plaits, then twisted them into a complex knot at the back of her head. There were no stray hairs, her curly hair was pulled back tight. She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink in the main floor bathroom. She was thin, her cheekbones jutting out. But she was determined.

After the meeting, they had begun to prepare. They needed to leave as soon as possible. Which was why Hermione now stood, wearing Ministry robes, her face pale with anxiety, only two days later.

She splashed water on her face, then set her expression into one of deep resolve, and inhaled deeply. She unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out into the empty corridor.

She could hear talking and shouting from the sitting room down the hall, and she stepped towards it.

Nearly everyone who had been at the meeting two days ago was there, talking fast, whispering reminders into Daphne's ear, wishing her luck, all looking tense.

When Hermione stepped into the room, attention turned to her.

Ginny rushed forward, her freckles standing out like drops of blood on her pale face. She gripped Hermione's shoulders.

“We've just been talking to Daphne. It's all planned out. You know of course. You guys are in and out. Simple. Fast. Get in, get out. You've got this.” Ginny said fast, staring intensely into Hermione's eyes, her own pale brown ones alight with a fire.

Hermione nodded, clearing her throat.

“It's just another mission. Just a bit of a higher level in the Ministry.” Hermione spoke, her voice surprisingly calm.

She walked towards Daphne, who, like Ginny, had a fire in her eyes. Her hair was pulled back similarly to Hermiones, slicked back, not a hair out of place. A random, obscure thought occurred to her. The slicked back blonde hair look reminded of Draco Malfoy in first and second year. Oddly, she felt a twinge of amusement at this.

“What is it?” Ron said sharply, noticing the slight shift in Hermione's demeanor.

“You look like eleven year old Malfoy.” She muttered, speaking to Daphne.

Everyone was silent for a moment, and Hermione couldn't hold back the small smirk that pulled at her lips. She didn't know why, right now of all times, she was feeling like laughing.

“Never insult me like that again Hermione.” Daphne said venomously, but with a hint of amusement. Scattered laughs rang out throughout the room.

“I don't think I'll ever unsee that.” Ron muttered, peering at Daphne's sharp features, highlighted by her white blonde hair slicked tightly back.

Daphne rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply. Minerva broke the silence, stepping forward to Hermione and Daphne, both of which looked sharp and neat in the crisp, dark Ministry robes, hairstyles matching.

“Polyjuice potion.” She murmured, holding out two goblets to each of them.

Hermione took one of the goblets, and stared down into the contents. It was a deep maroon. She remembered the color of hers, Harrys, and Ron's back in the second year, and felt a small wave of relief. Maroon didn’t seem too bad. She was transforming into Genevieve Caddell, a coworker of Tracey Davis in the Department of Public Order and Security. She was an Interrogation Assistant, and administered doses of Veritaserum in controlled settings to suspected subversives, as they called them. Captured Resistance members, or suspected spies. Hermione had spent the last two days studying Genevieve Caddell and her behaviour based on the information Tracey Davis had given them. Tracey Davis had made copies of her file, as well as Pyana Markit, who Daphne was transforming to. She reviewed books and pieces of literature and helped decide whether or not they should be deemed “traitorous” or not.

Daphne downed her Polyjuice potion and shuddered. Minerva handed her a flask with extra, and she tucked it into her robes. Hermione followed suit, drinking the bubbling maroon liquid that burned her throat. The others in the room watched tensely as Minerva handed a flask with more Polyjuice to her as well. The robes were already fitted to Genevieve and Pyana, who were similar in size to Hermione and Daphne, but the transformation was still uncomfortable.

Hermione's skin stretched and pulled as she grew taller and a bit larger. She felt her face shifting and bubbling and her features changed. Her hair, which had changed to a deep auburn, remained pinned back, but the updo grew looser as the hair length changed. She blinked hard and turned to look at Daphne, who was unrecognizable. Her hair had gone from pale blonde to jet black, her eyes now a piercing blue, not pale grey, her skin slightly wrinkled. She was much taller, towering over Hermione, and Hermione thought she looked rather scary. Daphne blinked down at Hermione, then spoke.

“We'd better get moving.” Her voice was quieter, and sounded more authoritative, but she still spoke with Daphne's cadence.

“Right.” Hermione answered, testing out her new voice. It was slightly deeper and raspier.

“You have everything, yes?” Andromeda said, stepping towards the two of them.

“Just need the wands.” Daphne said, and Hermione could still pick up that slightly casual lilt in her voice.

“Daphne- try to talk a bit more…harshly? You're still talking with your regular cadence, and from what we read about Pyana Markit, she's sharp. She'd probably speak sharply too.” She suggested in that slightly unsettling voice, tucking the flask of Polyjuice potion into a hidden pocket inside her robes.

Daphne nodded, and repeated her phrase. “Just the wands.” She said coldly.

“I think that's good.” Hermione said, trying to keep her own voice flat and cold.

Filius handed them the wands which Tracey Davis had stolen for them. Genevieve Caddell and Pyana Markit were under a heavy, long term stunning spell somewhere. It had been planned that Tracey Davis would do this part of the plan the day before the mission was to occur. She had held up to her end, and that afternoon the two wands had been left in a spot where Daphne had gone to retrieve them. It was important to have the wands of who they were transforming into, as often in the Ministry wands were used for identification. They also had their blood status papers for this same reason.

Hermione tucked Genevieve's long wand into her pocket, and turned back to Daphne.

No one exchanged any words as they began to make their way to the door, walking stiffly. The people they were impersonating had been chosen because they worked the night shift in the Department of Public Order and Security, therefore Hermione and Daphne could leave during the cover of night, and the Ministry would be less crowded. It had crossed Hermione's mind why Tracey Davis couldn't just get the files for them, but it had been pointed out that she didn't know the names of who they were looking for, and Hermione agreed on the fact that it was better to keep that information to themselves. Also, a contact on the inside wouldn't want to do everything, and completely put themselves at risk. There had to be some work from the Resistance's end.

As Hermione reached the door, she glanced back at the small group of people, who mostly made up the Resistance now.

“Good luck.” Cho said, flashing her and Daphne a smile.

“We'll see you guys in a few hours.” Daphne spoke, and she let the sharp tone drop.

“Yeah. We'll see you soon.” Ron said, stepping up to them and squeezing Hermione and Daphne’s shoulders.

Without another word, Hermione and Daphne stepped out into the cool October night, and they heard the door shut behind them.

They looked at one another, and only then, when there was no one else to see, did they exchange looks with the smallest hint of uncertainty.

Without speaking, they walked briskly to the edge of the protection wards around the house, stepping through them and onto the very edge of the front lawn. At once Hermione felt colder, though she was sure that was just her mind.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, and she took a deep breath, pushing all thoughts and emotions to the back of her mind, clearing her head, and thinking only of the mission in an analytical way.

Daphne reached out and squeezed Hermione's hand, nodded sharply at her, then she let go and they stepped into the streets of London.