Chapter 26
Hermione
Hermione smoothed down the front of her black dress and hurried through the quaint lobby of the ‘The Buttercup Bungalow’, a bed and breakfast nestled in between a secondhand wand shop and a rather shady looking potions apothecary in Diagon Ally. They defiantly kept to the theme, She thought as she approached the front desk. The lobby was a riot of yellow; buttercup wallpaper, buttercup-shaped cushions scattered on antique armchairs, even the sconces lining the walls were shaped like the themed flower, ornate pieces of leaded glass making their petals. A thick, sweet scent, like an overabundance of flowers and freshly baked bread, hung in the air. It was slightly sickening to Hermione, the overwhelming yellow-on-yellow decor overlaid with the overly thick, sweet scent. She hoped the room was less abrasively yellow, but thought there was little chance of that.
A shaggy black dog, surprisingly well-behaved, trotted at her heels. ‘Snuffles’ had refused the lead she had tried to insist on, but had been on his perfect dog-behavior, as promised. Sirius had insisted on coming with her, not to bear witness to the meeting, but to protect her “just in case”. He still wouldn't divulge Order secrets, but Hermione felt he knew far more than he was letting on about her attack, or at least the current state regarding her personal security, as she was (officially) not permitted to leave Grimmauld Place still, nor were Harry or the Weasley children.
This meeting with Anders Lawrence, the American civil rights lawyer who'd flown across the Atlantic for this case, was crucial. This wasn't just about clearing Sirius's name; it was about dismantling the Ministry's flawed system of justice, a battle Hermione was prepared to fight, and planned to win.
A woman with vibrant orange hair, pulled back in a practical braid, looked up from behind the reception desk. She offered Hermione a warm smile. "Welcome, Checking in?” She asked.
“No, I’m meeting someone, Anders Lawrence?”
“Yes, Mr. Lawrence said he was expecting a guest.” She said brightly. “Room 4, “Golden sunset, that way.” She gestured to the stairs, dismissing her.
She walked slowly to the room, taking deep measured breaths. All morning she had been fighting her nerves, her anxiety telling her there would be complications, the lawyer would change his mind, or worse, see her and laugh at the idea that a 15 year old with no apparent connection to the man was fighting so hard for his freedom. She had a plan for this if questioned; they had agreed (as a family) that bringing Harry into it was complicated at best and they had chosen to leave him out as much as possible, much to dis displeasure. With the Prophet (minus Rita Skeeter) still attempting to discredit him and make him seem like an attention-seeker who liked to invent wild tales, it seemed prudent to keep him out of the public eye. Lupin had stayed behind with Harry, insisting that as a werewolf his status would do nothing to help the case. She reached out and stroked Snuffle’s head, and he gave her a comforting sort of headbutt to the hip. Taking a deep breath she knocked, and a male voice inside called for her to enter.
The hotel room was, unsurprisingly, yellow. Yellow lace curtains framed whitewashed window panes, the bed a mix of yellows, oranges and reds with buttercup pillows. A small lace-covered table with a vase full of the signature flowers sat in the center of the room, with a full tea service waiting. Anders Lawrence, a tall handsome man with kind gray eyes and light blonde hair swept back, stood by the window, gazing out at Diagon Alley. He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a muggle law drama, complete with a sharply pressed black suit that seemed oddly out of place in the fussy, crowed room. "Ms. Granger," he said, extending a hand. Hermione shook it firmly, her gaze flitting to Snuffles, who was now happily gnawing on a particularly enticing-looking slipper. Lawrence chuckled. "Who is this here?" He reached down to pet the shaggy dog, who sniffed the outreached hand then submitted to the petting.
“This is Snuffles. Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Lawrence.”
“Happy to, and call me Anders, please. In my mind, Mr. Lawrence is my father.” He smiled, and gestured for her to sit at the small table.
They sat, and over tea, Anders went over his case file with Hermione carefully, filling in missing details. She had come prepared with her pink binder and the lawyer marveled over Hermione’s work.
“This is-This is more preparation than I’ve seen from legal aids- or lawyers years into their field.” He closed the binder and looked at her carefully. “You are, 15, you said?”
“Yes sir. I like to be thorough with my research, and I have an eidetic memory, which helps.” She said.
“Well, I do hope you consider a career in law when your education is done. I believe you’ve made this case rather open-and-shut.” He sad back and took a thoughtful cup of tea. “I have had one problem, however. The Ministry is deigning my request to have dementors barred from Ministry grounds during the proceedings. They insist on starting the trial with the assumption that Mr. Black is, in fact a wanted killer and ‘protect the public’.” He sighed.”They are also insisting Mr. Black turn himself in immediately, rather than wait for the trial. My hands are tied, but I assue you-”
“Mr. Law- Anders, “ She interrupted, holding a hand up. He smiled at her, and she continued. “Sirius Black will not turn himself over to the Dementors. Do you have them, in America?” She spoke firmly.
“No, we learn about them in school of course.”
”But have you ever met one? Experienced it?”
“No, but-”
She held up her hand again.
“I have. The Ministry sent hundreds of Dementors to surround Hogwarts when Sirius escaped Azkaban. They came aboard the Hogwarts Express and leeched off of us. They pull the happiness from your very heart and force you to relive the worst things said about you, the worst moments of your life. Children were subject to fits of fainting and screaming, reliving their parent’s deaths, horrible accidents, or other traumas.” She paused and swallowed, remembering the icy chill they left in the air, watching Harry drop to the ground and seize as he screamed. “I was there the night they caught Sirius on the grounds, I watched them try to suck the soul from his body after he had saved us-er, me, from a werewolf. As they tried to do the same to a student on the grounds that night.”
Anders listened intently, and at the last sentence his mouth fell open, his eyes wide with shock. “A student? This was never reported!”
“The Ministry didn’t want people to know how close they are to losing control over the Dementors. But even if they swore to keep them back from Sirius, Anders, having them in the building, in the courtroom would be a disaster! They will feed on everyone there, sucking their joy or hope out and leaving only anger and despair. What kind of understanding could we get from people out of their minds with grief? What justice will we have if they dive for Sirius and remove his soul before the trial?”When she finished, a thoughtful silence fell between them. Then, a small smile played on his lips. He pulled out his notebook, and started writing. When he finished he looked up at her.
“Will you be willing to testify, if necessary on the events of that night?”
Snuffles growled and sat up from his spot of sunshine he had been enjoying while they had tea. He padded over and laid his head on Hermione’s thigh. She stroked his soft fur back from his eyes
., and nodded.
“Yes, I would.” Snuffles growled again, a bit louder, and butted his head into her hip.
“Is he…alright?” Anders asked, eyeing the dog suspiciously.
“Yes, he’s fine. He’s my familiar, part Crup. He’s worried about me.” She lied easily. “I did some things that night-that I would rather..not testify to.” She said hesitantly.
“Without the full story I’m afraid I cannot put you on the stand, but I’m sure we can tell it in such a way that leaves out any, erm, illicit activities involved. Can you tell me? As your lawyer it will be in the strictest confidence. ”
She bit her lip and hedged. It wasn’t simply her story to tell, secrets were involved that could change many lives.
“I need to speak with my family before I can do that.” She said finally
"This is… certainly a unique case," he said, his eyes twinkling. "But I think we can make this work. I’ll begin with this letter to the Ministry, citing the issues with the presence of dementors, and the demand that they allow Sirius to appear at the trial, with Auror guard only. I hope you don’t mind it’s almost word for word what you told me. I am quite serious, you’ll make a brilliant lawyer- then we’ll know if we even need your testimony.” He gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I’m also adding a the potential for a lawsuit on behalf of injured students, traumatized from the exposure to Dementors at school. Which I’ll be willing to drop in exchange for conceding to my demands.”
“Quite ruthless, Mr. Lawrence.” Hermione smiled and took a dainty sip of tea.
“Let’s go over this once more, if you have the time, Ms. Granger.”
“Certainly.”
He outlined his strategy, a plan that cleverly merged muggle legal tactics with a healthy dose of wizarding pragmatism. She felt that quite conflicted, her muggle heritage and the way she had been treated made her furious that such laws as the ones they were exploiting existed; why should pure-bloods be given exceptions the muggle-borns and half-bloods didn’t? However logic ruled this argument, such laws did exist. Exploiting them now, meant in’s to dismantling them in the future, and Sirius’s freedom hinged upon it. She knew if she could get those bigoted idiots to fear their own mistreatment, to fear the ministry would take try to seize their power or wealth by having them imprisoned, they would win. Past cases set precedent, after all. A pure-blood of the so-called Sacred 28 had been imprisoned without due process or trial and sent to solitary isolation in the worst place imaginable. As far as she was concerned they should be scared. They had gotten away with it before because no one was willing to fight them for Sirius, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Perhaps it was uncharitable to paint them with the same brush, but so far what she had seen of the ministry and met of it’s politicians, she didn’t have any hope for a fair and just system at this time. Perhaps someday, she would lead that charge. But today, in this moment, the strongest thing she felt was not guilt at her use of pure-blood rhetoric, but a surge of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could free Sirius. The fight wouldn't be easy, but with Anders' expertise and her determination, the odds seemed less daunting. The cute black dog, Snuffles/Sirius, thumped his tail against the floor in agreement. The battle for justice had truly begun.
Hermione treated herself and Snuffles to an ice cream from Fortescue's on the way home. She set his Sunday on the ground under her table carefully.
“Sorry, I don’t think Florian would appreciate you eating at the table.” She whispered. Snuffles gave her a happy bark and licked her face sloppily before diving in to his ice cream. She chuckled and sat down, wiping her face before starting in on her own treat.
“Draco, let’s stop for an ice cream before we go back to the manor!”
Hermione caught the shrill, all too familiar voice of Pansy Parkinson drawing near. She kept her head down and focused on slowly eating her ice cream, her eyes locked on the bustling street around her.
“Of course, we can, uhg, what is that?!” Draco Malfoy gasped in outrage.
What will it be this time, me or the dog? She thought wearily.
“What kind of heathen brings an mangy thing like that to a restaurant?” Pansy shrieked. “Is it rabid?”
The dog it is. She rolled her eyes at her classmate’s drama, taking measured bites of her ice cream as she ignored them.
“Oh, it makes sense now. It’s Granger. Adopt another unkempt beast, mudblood?” Draco sneered.
Though she didn’t look over to them, she knew Pansy and Draco were quite close to her. Snuffles growled, low and menacing, and Hermione reached out a soothing hand to his neck.
“Draco, it growled at me! Fetch an Auror, I think it’s rabid!”
“Keep your beast contained or I’ll have it put down, mudblood!” Draco snarled at her.
She glanced over. Draco and Pansy were on the other side of the small railing separating Florian’s patio from the sidewalk. She was clinging to his arm as if expecting the dog to pounce any moment. Draco, in his signature black with his white hair slicked back, looked pompously down at her.
She flicked her gaze up and down the couple and turned away, dismissing them.
“Come on Draco, I don’t want to eat here, who knows what type of diseases we could catch from the mudblood and her mutt.” Pansy simpered, pulling at his arm.
“Are you deaf, now, mudblood? Did losing your parents affect your ears?” Draco called out.
She turned slowly back to them. “What did you say?” She asked quietly. Snuffles whined and nudged her hand with a wet nose.
“How would you know anything about my parents, Malfoy?” She asked in a quiet, measured voice.
He smiled at her, sharp and wicked. “Word gets around. So even your parents don’t want you? It’ll be so peaceful in class without you squawking out quotes from the textbooks.”
Hermione’s hand slid to her sleeve where her wand rested, touching the vinewood through her sleeve gently. A hundred nonlethal but vicious spells flitted through her mind as she fought the urge to make him eat his words. Snuffled settled the internal debate by closing his teeth gently around her hand and tugging. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and stood, gathering her trash and depositing it in the bin. She kept her back straight and her head high as she left without a backwards glace. It felt like walking through molasses, every part of her yearning to hex them, punch Draco in the face again, throw something at Pansy. It has to be his Death Eater father. I wonder how much he knows about all of it. She thought.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’ll be returning to Hogwarts in the fall.” She said curtly, turning her back on the couple and walking away with her head high.
“How are you planning on doing that as an orphan, Granger?” Pansy called after her.
Hermione didn’t turn around. She wasn’t going to engage in the middle of Diagon ally, especially when her temper was roaring to be set free. She needed time to cool down, revenge, after all was a dish best served cold.