Monsters, Men and Mice
9.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was an auror, and happy as one. He never aspired to be the Minister of Magic, unlike Rufus Scrimgeour. But Rufus is dead, and too many individuals in the upper tiers in the Ministry are the Dark Lord’s followers or puppets, so the pickings for the role were so very slim, and Kingsley had to step up or the government would wholely collapse… and the society, soon after.
Since Umbridge dug out Mordred’s Law out of antiquity just to at last kill one of her remaining nemeses, however, Kingsley is so very tempted to let it all happen. He was useless to prevent Harry Potter from having to choose between all bad options as laid out by the Wizengamot, led by bloody Malfoy. And, as the result, one innocent young man – no, hero of the wizarding world, twice over – had to go through the Veil.
And, now, the Muggle world demands to know everything that has been going on, refuses to accept any placation or obfuscation, and threatens to kill wizarding folk if there is a proof of Obliviation or Confundus going on, let alone Imperius. The office room of the Prime Minister has even been changed with the wizarding folk none the wiser about it. Kingsley was nearly shot down when he visited the old office room to inform the Prime Minister about the Dark Lord’s death, even! And the Prime Minister, when he protested about it, shot back that now Kingsley knew how he felt about unauthorised entry into protected sites of a different government….
Relations between the two worlds have rarely been so fragile and volatile since the formation of the Ministry of Magic, and Kingsley is the one that has to deal with it.
Worse, Umbridge and her ilk have begun to pick up where they left off, now using the strained relations between the two worlds as an excuse to boot the muggleborns entirely off the wizarding world. The smarter of them have even built a case using what MACUSA has been doing across the ocean, separating from the muggles entirely and punishing those who would not comply with the harsh line.
And Kingsley has the suspicion that, the moment he vacates the office of the Minister of Magic, laws to that effect will snap together and into place almost right away. But it won’t do! He has to get as many affected individuals out, first. Maybe have them go with young Mister Longbottom to wherever the latter might set down new roots?
Who knows, he might even join them, some time soon after….
10.
Hogwarts is home to Minerva McGonagall more than her clan’s village. It has been a bittersweet fact since the summer after her first year being a student in the castle, emphasised during her apprenticeship in transfiguration to Albus Dumbledore, and solidified when she was hired as teacher for Transfiguration almost immediately after she had achieved mastery.
And, now, her home lies in ruins, in more ways than one.
Physically, the grounds of and even hallways and rooms inside the castle have been contaminated by spellfire, also the sometimes-violent deaths of magical folk. Emotionally, remaining students and teachers are still… volatile, with grief and anger and remembered helplessness and guilt and hostility and so many others jumbling into one mess. And, culturally, there is a growing rift between many, many splinter factions.
No more Hogwarts House pride. No more uneasy but relatively civil pass-by in the hallways. No more pranks, let alone of the light-spirited kind. No more juvenile sneakings to forbidden places, including to the kitchen.
Minerva is presiding as headmistress over a few handfuls of child soldiers scarred and/or twisted by the very recent war, and her allies in coralling the damaged – or even broken – next generation of British wizarding world is barely a handful of teachers.
Not that the teachers themselves are whole, either. Not even herself.
`If Tom wanted to ruin the wizarding world, he had succeeded fantastically, even beyond the grave.`
She still remembers the firsty with handsome features but secondhand robes, staring with half-concealed fear at all the new things and new people in the Great Hall during the Sorting. She also remembers the firsty being bullied by his own Housemates, before something changed drastically and the latters either fawned on him or feared him immensely.
She remembers nothing of Tom Riddle past their shared Hogwarts years, before he returned as a hardlined political leader that became more. But it’s easy to make the connections between his diary that had nearly lured Ginevra Weasley nearly into death and the prominent figure of the harshest of the pureblood faction and Albus’ hint of who Voldemort is.
`If Tom were sorted into Griffindor or Hufflepuff, could we have avoided this?`
Each time the thought surfaces in her mind, she wishes that she could ask the Sorting Hat for advice. But the Hat is just as dead as Albus, burning right atop the head of one of her best Griffindors during the recent battle. And, for the first time ever since the founding of this school, the newcoming students were sorted simply by putting them with family or friends they had previously known and been close to… which has proven not the best decision in all too many cases.
The wizarding world at least hereabouts is simply too broken to even lean on family ties and alliances.
`But if not for them, whom do we have? We do not even have our most stalwart defenders with us, by now.`
Young Potter has been Veiled for some technicality, young Longbottom has been driven far away from home, and they are young indeed, heros to boot. They led the defenders in the battle that has fouled and ruined this place that should have been a sacred sanctuary, the battle that did not become more for their help, and now they are gone.
And Pamona came back to teach having hoped that young Longbottom would have approached her for apprenticeship, perhaps even for a tenure as teacher of Herbology afterwards. Oh, how she laments it each time the few teachers remaining gather for the evening….
`Perhaps, perhaps, we should think of a better solution for the children’s education. Moving away from this place might be good. Less haunting memories, at least, and less exposure to all the taint and ruin. But where should we remove ourselves to?`
She fiddles with the shrunkened trunk in her pocket as she pads along to the Great Hall, to oversee the last of the work clearing it up from debris and returning it – hopefully! – back to its glory. And, as her finger idly, softly traces the outline of the matchbox-sized wooden thing, a plan begins to form in her tired, heartsick mind.
`Now, would Miss Lovegood let me copy her habitation trunk for my students’ use? Or perhaps Miss Granger? If Kingsley has freed her from the holding cell, that is. Honestly, that girl….`
11.
Susan Bones stares long into Hermione Granger’s eyes, who looks stubbornly, defiantly, tiredly back at her through the holding cell’s bars.
Then, “Do you know that the Ministry is planning to toss you through the Veil too?” she asks quietly.
She wants to say, “You look like a stroppy brat who doesn’t get her way.” But it’d spark a row between them and attract attention, so she’ll keep her mouth shut on that for now and ask just the currently pertinent things.
“Let them. I’ll just reunite with Harry, then,” is the answer she gets, just as defiantly as the other looks.
Just as grating, too.
Susan shakes her head. “So you’re certain that the Veil doesn’t lead to death, and it leads only to one place?”
“Fairly certain, at least for the former. And I can try to focus on Harry, I suppose, for the latter,” Hermione nods, and now looks and sounds quizical instead of defiant, which is far preferable.
Also, in accordance with Susan’s earlier plan, which she hatched and developed with Blaise and Daphne and Neville.
Just, “Why didn’t you pack Professor Lupin’s child away in the trunk along with the workers of Houses Black and Potter?”
Hermione’s eyes narrow crossly, now, but Susan stands stolid in the face of it, waiting patiently.
`You get more out of people when you are calm, not when you are angry,` Auntie once said, when little Susan had one of her tantrums, and she oftens employs this advice to great effect.
…Including now, apparently, as, gritting her teeth and glaring, Hermione at last confesses, “I didn’t think. I didn’t want to let Teddy go with Harry, just… just in case. What I put in the tent for him, it’s just for just in case. The message in the letter I left there would’ve been different if Teddy weren’t with Harry. But when I was going to the Veil room for Harry, I passed by Umbridge and she threatened to have Teddy executed for being the child of a known werewolf, while I knew Macnair’s still free. So I changed my mind. At least this way Teddy got a chance, unlike if Umbridge or Macnair managed to get him. And I wasn’t certain if I could defend him if it came to that. I didn’t manage to defend Harry, after all. Now, satisfied?”
Susan simply nods, unruffled by the tone and the words and the look. “Fair warning, though,” she pre-empts before the other can do anything beyond opening her mouth, “you won’t be the only decisionmaker in this group, and raising your voice won’t net you anything but being silenced.”
Then, ignoring the barrage of questions the other now hurl at her, she undoes the locking wards tied to the cell, as she once saw a few aurors doing while she tailed them, having been brought by her aunt to work for the day, and they flee the detention block even as alarms ring.
Now, she can only hope that neither she nor everyone else involved in this plan will regret it, sooner or later.