Chapter 11
“Wisdom consists of knowing how to distinguish the nature of trouble, and in choosing the lesser evil.”
Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince
The Museum of London was unassuming as far as architectural wonders went. Stark charcoal brick and walls that recalled the austerity of cement with the displays of clear windows. Its exterior boasted paneling and wards for the evening it promised for patrons of the art and history alike.
When Lauren Hamilton had given her benefactors enough of a breakthrough with her added resources, the Dark Lord had called for a celebration. This was a new chapter in history where magical phenomena could be traced further into its chaotic origins. Things were moving fast, and though much was still to be done, this would benefit all parties.
Funding was always positive, but placing the woman in the limelight also helped to assuage any fears of being executed. No, she was being celebrated, and there was no need to conceal her anymore.
The insurgency had managed to knock out several people who were to be at this gala, while others were sent in with proper invitations. Due to Hermione's knowledge of muggle artifacts and society, she was one of the leads on this job to get in and retrieve the artifacts that she had discovered they might need.
They were either transfigured, charmed, or polyjuiced into looking different. Hermione had managed to straighten the chaotic mess of her frizzy hair on her head. She still had dresses that fit due to her weight loss over the last seven years, keeping her close to the size she had been in school, even a little smaller. The dress from the Weasley wedding had been transfigured from red to black and silver. Her hair charmed through her bracelet to be auburn rather than brown or blonde, her eyes a rich hazel, while her skin remained fair with softer features. The glamour left her with a more filling figure rather than the angles of her malnourished form. Her scars were hidden under the spells. Considering the same trick had worked a week and a half ago now, she was confident this would work again.
Spreading out, Longbottom, Patil, Thomas, and one of the older members of the Order were spread through the party. She had memorized what they had looked like. There were one or two younger recruits with them, all meant to lay low and allow Hermione a chance to slip out of the party to go down to the archives and obtain the items. If this had been the beginning of the war, she would have felt guilty about stealing someone else's hard-won research. Now, she couldn't care.
Hermione knew that she had to get in and out before You Know Who showed up to talk about this newest 'triumph in magical advancement' using Muggles as tools. It turned her stomach. Malfoy would be here somewhere, and she just had to hope, as she slipped out of the party and charmed her heels to be silent, that he wasn't already down in the archives.
Draco had kept the scholar at his side. She was safest there. Later, the Dark Lord, would give an address, but he wouldn’t be there for that. He’d slip below into the archives. The woman had requested to be there. To ensure he took the right items, though part of him wondered if it hadn’t been more. A mix of being away from his master along with the thrill of what was to be done.
When she’d feigned discomfort, he had been the image of a gentleman ushering her out towards a side door.
Hermione took the steps two at a time, going down into the archives where she started looking. One item had to be a cuneiform slab with snakes coiled on it. There was a beaded belt of some sort that had some storytelling woven through the beads. The last item had a two-headed snake or dragon on it, but she wasn't sure what that artifact was. Its purpose was unclear.
And, of course, the organization system down here wouldn't include anything about snakes as far as being organized by symbology. Running a hand through her hair, she cursed under her breath before going to search the cuneiform first. That was something she could likely translate and probably find the most easily.
Having a scholar with intrinsic knowledge of the system in use had been a stroke of genius he might not have considered prior to years of encounters with his mark. Without a word, the ginger had led him into the underbelly of the museum. She tried not to touch him, but when she did, he noted the lack of a shake or a jerk most had. It was odd that a human, fully aware of who he was and his capabilities, held little to no fear.
Stood before a series of drawers, she pointed to the locked one in question, and Draco swiftly unlocked it with the help of his wand. Before he could take the item, the young woman delicately did so with gloved hands, effectively nudging him out of the way.
“It’s even more remarkable in person,” she breathed.
Beyond beads and leather strings, he couldn’t see the appeal of it as a breakthrough.“Keep it safe. We have two more items to collect.” His voice was low. Even if they were alone, there was no point in drawing attention.
Hermione heard the clicks of something opening and closing and cursed to herself. With the one item she knew of, she took in a slow breath and let it out slowly, using a spell to direct her to the right location for the cuneiform. It guided her deeper into the archives and to a glass cabinet with shelves.
It was locked. And the click of the lock being undone would be heard if they were close enough. Still, she had to risk it. Using wordless magic to do just that. The click sounded so loud to her ears, even with its quieter tone. Then, she opened the cabinet as quietly as possible to draw out the artifact she saw with the snake carved into it.
At the sound of the click, Draco had the muggle stay back. He couldn’t be assured of being faced with Granger. With his wand, he pulled two of his men closer through the dark mark. When he turned the corner, he almost felt relief.
“Can’t let you take that,” he warned.
The cuneiform box was in her hand, held tightly and securely as she spun around, her wand pointed at him as the enchantment transfiguring her fell away for a moment as she glared at him.
"And I can't let you have all of them." She warned in a cool tone of her own, keeping her wand trained on him. She could smash it...but the idea of damaging something so valuable and old sat wrong with her. You could take the academic out of school, but you couldn't take the academic out of the person.
“But you must,” he kept his wand poised. “What happens to your theory, Miss Hamilton, without all three artifacts?” He called on his accomplice, allowing her to answer from the shadows behind him.
Her swallow was audible. “I wouldn’t be able to accomplish the calculations for the…”
“No need to continue that statement,” he interrupted, looking at the brunette. “You going to sacrifice your fellow academic?” He asked the Gryffindor graduate. “He’s here, you know…” he drawled. It would be a bloodshed. One he rather avoid.
Sympathy was something she tried not to feel, but she couldn't help but feel it for Miss Hamilton. All she wanted was to get her doctorate and for others to take her seriously. It was something she understood.
Taking a careful side step, backing up into the archives, she firmly grasped the cuneiform. "...I'll have to. I can't let Him have it. I know He's here. I realized the risk with this job." A job she was ordered on despite the dread. Fear still sparking through her. "I can't fail." Not again.
“You might as well kill her now if you do,” he motioned to the woman behind him. “Or perhaps you enjoy the public displays…makes your side seem less…terror based.”
He could taste the woman behind him’s fear as he gambled. “I bet she warned you against me,” he yanked her forward with magic, holding her as a shield.
Fear and disappointment were clear in the ginger woman’s features as she looked at the woman she’d known as Morrie.
“Go on then,” He offered Hermione a clear shot at the woman. “Put Miss Hamilton out of her misery, Morrigan.”
After all of the people she killed, she'd never killed a muggle. Disarmed them. Stunned them. Kept them out of the way if they were being controlled. She only killed Death Eaters. Each time his side executed muggles to the public, it made her side look less terror-based.
"Of course I did. I told her to run," she snapped, glancing at Hamilton with a conflicted expression, her gaze darting between the two of them. She was seething. "You don't care about her, Arawn."
She knew he didn't. And yet he would use the fact that she kept casualties to a minimum to his advantage. Her eyes narrowed at him as she took another careful step backward. Her death would aid her side. The optics for his side would be terrible. Killing Muggles that tried to help. She knew what her leadership would want. But she'd never been faced with this decision herself.
“Quick death, extended public one…or…” his voice was nearly a purr.
“There’s another artifact,” the girl said. “Those three lead to something else,” she wasn’t sure which of the two she was trying to convince.
"Shut up, Arawn." She snapped, her voice a little colder as her gaze moved between his eyes and the woman. Bloody hell, this was horrible. "And why would I believe there's another artifact related to this that you didn't tell them about?"
“For the same reason, I’m saying so now,” she held back the venom. “Only as useful as what comes of it. The belt is like a book; the totem you have gives a location, and the last piece unlocks the code. All three are needed to advance. To where or what, I can’t say…”
Malfoy was annoyed. He had suspected as much, but then, this worked in his favor either way.
“What’s it going to be…Morrie,” he drawled.
Hermione glanced at Malfoy and then back at the Muggle. "...You don't know what they'll do with this information, Miss Hamilton."
The fact she hadn't bolted, though, showed the one thing that Malfoy had likely suspected. She hadn't given up all of her humanity yet in this war. Despite how brutal she was to Death Eaters.
“Can it be worse? Truly?” She demanded. “I don’t want to d...”
Perhaps she hadn’t lost her humanity, but Malfoy was tired. He didn’t bother with a cruciatus curse. A stinging hex in just the right cluster of nerves and muscles sufficed. Around them, a singular scream echoed.
“Don’t have all night, ladies.”
Granger cursed, glaring at the blond with so much venom in her gaze that if looks could kill, he'd be dead. She put the small box down on a shelf. "...When you aren't using a muggle as a shield, Arawn, you're as good as dead." She promised.
Glancing at the muggle, she hoped that she'd be able to make up for this. And that her own people wouldn't do something to her. Pulling out a small mirror, not the one she had gotten from Malfoy, she spoke clearly into it. "The artifacts are already gone...disperse before anyone notices." She tucked the mirror away and, with one more lingering glance, disapparated.
“Promises,” he breathed, doubting even Lauren could hear the response.
The researcher stilled in her captor's arms as she watched the other decide. It had her knees buckle, and she needed that strong arm to keep her steady.
“Deep breaths,” he encouraged gently, keeping her steady as they remained alone. “You’re going to be fine,” he told her. He could promise her as much for now.
Once she could manage to stand, he gave her the second artifact. “One more item, a speech, and then we’ll be home,” he reassured.
All around the museum, other insurgents were carefully removing themselves to 'get some air' or get a smoke. And once they weren't watched any longer, they also disapparated. They didn't need to stay there for any speeches and didn't need to see anything that was unfolding. They were set back yet again due to their lack of resources.
Despite it not being her fault, they would lay the blame at one witch's feet.