Of Weapons and Shadow Wars
Hermione Granger graduated top of her class from Hogwarts, and - to everyone's surprise - joined the Auror Academy. She graduated top of her class from there, too.
Minerva McGonagall had kept tabs on her. After all, she'd won the Most Promising Newcomer award; a girl after her own heart.
Minerva hadn't stayed long in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. She'd been headhunted into a top-secret branch of the ministry, which sat somewhere between the DMLE's Aurors, and the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries. Now, with six years service, it was her turn to headhunt - and she knew the witch she wanted.
Hermione Granger was expected to make waves in the Ministry. There were even whispers of her becoming Minister for Magic, one day. Instead, she sank into memory; a name engraved on numerous awards in Hogwarts' trophy room.
"It seems a long time ago now," Hermione said only a few months later.
"You fought me tooth and nail. I still have the damage to date it," Minerva returned. Hermione grimaced.
"I am sorry about that," she said. "In fairness, you did sound completely mad. Spies and assassins? Honestly."
Minerva smirked. "I used neither of those words. And we are only mirroring the muggles; their MI5 and MI6 are equally new and have the same goals as the Department of Military Intelligence."
"I know, Minerva, but I'd never even met you then!" Hermione chuckled. Her training was nearly over; she'd spent the past three months almost exclusively with the raven-haired witch, engaging in duelling, hand-to-hand combat, surveillance, evasion, identifying and tracking, and counter-surveillance training. There were no rules; the laws the Auror Academy had taught her were but distant memories.
"Anyway, wizarding Britain has no military!" She added.
"That you know of."
It had been a perfect day.
Hermione's third graduation was less a ceremony and more a test; one that she knew she would pass with flying colours, because Minerva had trained her, and that made her the best.
And ace it she did. She obliviated, disillusioned and transfigured her way to the top spot of a department that was only known to those within it.
And then Minerva took her out into Muggle London to celebrate. Hermione was in deep with this remarkable, lethal witch - and now she wasn't her student, she was going to tell her so.
It had been a perfect day, but as Hermione caught a blazing look in Minerva's eyes and opened her mouth to say I love you, an unfamiliar crack and whine filled her ears with cotton wool and her words were strangled by her heart in her mouth. She dived forwards and knocked Minerva to the floor, wand in hand.
"Suffragettes?" Minerva asked quietly. Hermione shrugged her answer, scanning the surrounding streets. They were empty.
The sound came again. This time, it was followed by screams and the sound of running feet.
"Whoever it is, they're shooting," Hermione said. "Time to go, before we're hit."
She sat back to let Minerva up, and saw that she looked pale and drawn.
"Too late," she said with a wan smile. "I'm hit."
Her hands clasped her thigh, blood seeping steadily through her fingers.
And that was the beginning of her first war; one the muggles ominously referred to as the first world war.