Reclamation

They called them the Resurrected, of just The Rezzed. They were a project of the Department of Mysteries in cooperation with the Department of Magical Family Affairs under the Wixen Repopulation Act.

The WRA came about only a few years after the fall of Lord Voldemort, but it was likely overdue in the eyes of some. Wixen were never a populace breed in the first place, their birth rates slowly declining over the years. But after the trouble with Grindelwald in the 40s and then Voldemort’s bids for power in the 70s and the 90s, the further loss of life from fighting had devastated their numbers. Factor in the increasing fertility problems now rightfully traced back to the long held practice of intramarriage with cousins to keep bloodlines ‘pure’ and the Wixen were in serious danger.

The law required all witches and wizards of age to do so to marry and have children. At least two, though there were substantial financial incentives if they had more. Records of family lineages were scoured and tests run by the healers at St. Mungos to ensure that couples were likely to have healthy marriages and able to have children before a marriage license was issued. More than one pureblood witch who thought her future was set learned that she was most likely infertile and her potential marriage denied. Half blood and muggle born witches became in high demand as they were often healthier and more likely to have healthy children.

It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, however. Not everyone seemed inclined to pair off or found someone they felt close enough to pair off with. To help with this, the DMFA and the DOM developed algorithms based in arithmancy to test for compatibility and used these to provide a matching service for those not able to find a relationship on their own. They soon found that not everyone had a good, solid match amongst other Wixen.

Given that the goal was to increase the magical population, the idea of looking amongst Muggles was not even considered.

That as where the Resurrected came in. The DOM searched old records for witches and wizards who had passed away too young. Those who had potential but had not lived long enough to marry and have families of their own. They then applied their algorithms to those lost souls to see if they could potentially match with a current unmarried Wixen. When a good, strong match was identified, they used methods they refused to speak of to bring these people back around the same age as they had died.

More wizards were brought back than witches. War being what it was, often men fell in greater numbers than women as the biological drive to protect women and children meant that witches were often protected. This meant there were more witches unable to find a match. Extra consideration was given if the deceased was from an old blood line lost to extinction.

It served the act two fold. By bringing back these long lost Wixen, they increased the numbers. By pairing them off with existing Wixen for marriage, they could make more.

Continuing her education had bought her some time, but eventually she had to stop. She considered going for that mastery in potions, but the Ministry gave her a not too subtle hint that they weren’t buying it. They’d gone along with it when she went for her masteries in Charms and Arithmancy, but they were quickly losing patience.

There was no further avoiding it. Hermione Granger had to get married.

Once upon a time she thought she’d marry Ron Weasley, her long time friend. However their romance fizzled out shortly after the war. They were fiends and she’d always love him as such, but they weren’t in love. It nearly broke his mother’s heart. She’d apparently been dreaming of highly intelligent grandchildren with heads of bushy ginger curls. When she’d finally accepted that the pair of them would not suit romantically, Percy and George were both settling down but she dropped sly hints that Charlie was still available and a handsome, strapping lad.

Halfway through her charms mastery Ron married Romilda Vane of all people. No one had seen that coming.

After her charms mastery the Ministry had tried to pair her with Draco Malfoy, sending her running back to the magical side of Cambridge to start on her arithmancy mastery. Malfoy didn’t take offense. In fact, when she went to pay her tuition she found that it had already been settled for the full three years courtesy of House Malfoy and a bouquet of roses with a thank you card had been delivered to her flat. He wed Astoria Greengrass four months later.

The door to the meeting room in the heart of the Department of Magical Family Affairs opened and two people entered. One was her case worker, Prudence Cattermole. The witch and she did not see eye to eye . Prudence thought that Hermione should be settled down and producing healthy, magically gifted, highly clever children already. Hermione thought that Prudence and the Ministry should keep their damn business out of her womb. The other was a wizard wearing the tell tale robes of the Department of Mysteries.

Oh…. This couldn’t be good. There were rumors about what the DOM was doing for the DMFA. Those rumors weren’t good.

“Well, Miss Granger.” Prudence set her file down onto the table. “Here we are again. I trust you enjoyed your time at university?”

“Loved it. Sad to see it come to an end. They have a wonderful Potions curriculum.”

The witch’s smile grew sharp. “Surely the two masteries you have thus far are sufficient for a bright and promising future.”

“Not if you lot plan to turn me into a damn baby factory.”

The wizard coughed, though Hermione suspected he was covering an ill timed laugh. Prudence glared at her.

“Miss Granger, surely as a war heroine you would like to stand up as an exemplary example for the future of the magical community.”

“By marrying a complete stranger? Not really.”

“You could have wed Draco Malfoy. I believe you two went to school together. “

“During which time he called me ‘mudblood’ and wished I would die. More than once. No thank you.” Though, to be fair, he was far less of a prat these days. She still wouldn’t want to be married to him, but he was maturing into a somewhat decent fellow. Astoria had really done him some good.

The witch took in a deep breath, held it for a long moment, then let it out slowly. Well, look who had been studying her calming techniques. “Miss Granger, the Ministry is only asking or two children from every witch capable of having them.”

“Children born under duress are likely to be children raised in unhappy households. Children who end up feeling unwanted and unloved.”

“They will be your children!”

“That doesn’t mean that I’m ready to have them or want to! The belief that a woman just automatically loves and adores whatever offspring she pushes out it false! There are countless cases where a woman has been given no choice but to breed against her will only to come to despise and even be cruel towards the child! You can’t force a woman to want to be a mother! You are going to end up with a horde of young witches and wizards who are angry, belligerent and prone to acting out. Hardly a recipe for future productive citizens.”

“The law is working. Birth rates are on the up!”

“Meanwhile the Ministry ignores the increase in domestic violence! Oh, that’s right, the magical community lacks many of the safeguards the muggle one has in place to protect a spouse or child. If a child is beaten or otherwise mistreated by their parents in the muggle world, the system steps in and removes them from harm. If a man beats his wife or child, he is thrown into goal. If it’s a witch or wizard, however, the Ministry doesn’t do a damn thing until someone is dead!”

Prudence slammed her hands onto the table in anger. “If you think the Muggle world is so much better in these matters, why don’t you just snap your wand and go back there?!”

“I’m starting to think that I should!” It would hurt her to do it, but she could. She was raised a muggle. She knew that world. She would miss her magic, but she could manage. She’d been dragging her feet with her education hoping this damn law would be repealed, but she hadn’t been completely oblivious to the possibility that it wouldn’t. Cambridge had many things to offer and she’d studied computer science and engineering alongside her charms and arithmancy. She’d even come up with some solid concepts to start merging magic and technology to help bring the magical world into the twenty-first century. It would hurt, but she had the skills to survive and even thrive without her magic.

The unknown wizard placed a large hand on Prudence’s shoulder. “Let’s not be hasty in this. No one wants to see a witch of your caliber leave our world, Miss Granger. It would be a loss to us all.” Prudence didn’t look as though she agreed, but the witch sat back down, her expression pinched.

“Horace Bulstrode, Miss Granger. It’s an honor to meet you.” He extended one of those Christmas ham sized hands to her and she shook it. It was like shaking hands with a rock golem.

“Why is the Department of Mysteries being brought into this?” They were just rumors after all.

Wizard Bulstrode took the other chair across from her. It looked too small to hold the man. She remembered Millicent Bulstrode from school. She was also a large one so it seemed to run in the family. He flipped open a file with surprising grace for a man with fingers the size of sausages.

“Given the loss of lives during two wars held so closely together, the Department of Mysteries was brought in to see what might be done to… recover people whose lives were cut short. Primarily we focus on those who died after becoming of age but before they had time to marry and have families of their own. Other factors are taken into account, of course, such as academic achievement, any possible law enforcement records and any indications that the individual was involved with any… questionable organizations. Also taken into account is whether or not the person was a member of a family that has been lost.”

Yeah, that tracked with the rumors. “You’re trying to resurrect the old pureblood lines that have wasted away.”

“It’s not the primary factor, but it is a factor.” The wizard gave her a benign smile, but she didn’t like the glint in his eyes. “You are a difficult witch to match, Miss Granger. Your actions during the war alone set you apart. You are clearly a talented and powerful witch. Few would want to go up against you. Add in your academic achievements and you far outstrip most of your peers. Mr. Malfoy may have been a suitable match for you but, as you pointed out, the pair of you have never gotten along and thus it would have been unlikely that you’d have had a calm marriage. Of the others within a suitable age range, there are none still unwed.

“That’s where we come in. We have run the same algorithms used by the DMFA to look for… other prospects, and we have found you a suitable candidate.” She was almost afraid to ask. “Métis Gaunt.”

What? “Who?” He repeated the name. “Gaunt. As in Merope Gaunt? As in Voldemort’s mother?” She ignored how Prudence flinched at the name. Bulstrode evened unfazed by it.

“Merope Gaunt’s uncle, though she never knew him. Marvolo Gaunt’s younger brother. Born 1884. Died 1907 at the age of twenty-three from dragon pox. Unlike Marvolo and his… sister-wife,” he grimaced at the relationship, “Métis did attend Hogwarts and did extremely well. He was three years behind Albus Dumbledore and his academic record was unchallenged until his grand-nephew came to the school.”

The wizard slid the CV across the table to her. A photo of a rather handsome young man with dark black hair and dark eyes was clipped to the page. She looked at the details before her. The excellent test scores. The brief summary of his life and death. His family relations.

“Unlike the rest of his kin, we could find no indication that Métis shared the same… peculiarities as his family. We found no record of him ever attacking or tormenting muggles or muggleborns. No run ins with the DMLE. Even his record at Hogwarts was without scandal save for a couple of scrapes with boys from other houses you would expect during the teenage years. All indications were that he had a bright and promising future ahead of him. He had even secured a flat in London the year before his death, indicating that he had taken steps to make his own way apart from the Gaunt family and wished to claw his way out of the pit their pride and left them in. Then he fell ill and all that potential was cut short.”

“But… he’s a Gaunt.”

Bulstrode arched a bushy brow in her direction. “So? Should the rest of Gryffindor House have shunned Sirius Black when he was placed with them? Do you believe that all purebloods are untrustworthy?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Of course not! It’s just… that family isn’t known to be.. stable.”

“True. Marvolo and Morphina weren’t the first brother-sister pairing in that line, and the inbreeding did take its toll. However, even in such a setting solid, stable members are born. If you’re worried about that, we have had him fully vetted by the healers at St Mungo’s.”

The photo could not have been taken at the turn of the twentieth century. The technology and magic hadn’t yet existed. “You’ve already done it. You’ve already done whatever it is you do to bring him back.” She’d love to know what that process is, but she doubted they would tell her.

“Why not Sirius Black?” The words came out of her before she could stop them. Both the witch and wizard across from her raised a surprised brow.

“Were you in a relationship with Sirius Black?”

“No!” She hadn’t meant it like that. “I was underage. And he was Harry’s godfather! It’s just.. well… he died before having a family, mainly because he was put into Azkaban for twelve years for something he didn’t do, and the Black family died with him…”

Horace made some notes on a pad he had with him. “Excellent points. And he’s got quite a sympathetic following since the truth of his incarceration has come out. Definitely someone we should consider for reclamation. Would you be interested in him as a spouse?”

She hadn’t thought of that. It was on the tip of her tongue to say ‘yes’ but she hesitated. “No… not for me. I love Sirius but..if I had to live with him I’d end up either hexing him or landing in the Janice Thickey ward. I think he should be considered if you’re going to be summoning up dead wizards, but he’ll need someone with more patience than me.” She grimaced. “And an insatiable sex drive coupled with a fertile imagination.”

Okay, she was certain the cough was to cover up a laugh this time. Prudence looked about ready to faint at the bald speech, but Horace Bulstrode clearly thought it was funny. For her part, Hermione shrugged. It was the truth. Sirius Black was a man child. Gorgeous. Would be fun in bed. But it would take a stronger witch than her to be married to him.

“Understood.” The wizard made some more notes before folding his hands and looking at her. “Miss Granger, the Ministry would not care to see you leave the magical world. You don’t have to if you refuse, of course, but the financial penalties for failing to comply with the Magic Repopulation Act are stiff and keep increasing as time goes on. I understand your reluctance. You are not the only witch chafing at the idea of being pushed into marriage. There are several people still hoping that this law is repealed, but Ms. Cattermole is right when she says it is working.

“We also understand your concerns. You are correct in that there have been some… unsavory events that have arisen in the wake of the law. Too many failed to consider that resentment against the law itself might boil over into unpleasant interactions. The DMLE and the Ministry are doing what they can to plug those holes. Because of them, the vows used now include protections against physical harm against a spouse or any future children. You’re right that we cannot force a witch or wizard to hold affection for a child they did not originally sign up for, but they can no longer harm them intentionally. Not that I believe you would ever do such a thing, of course! Your efforts to help those considered less fortunate are well known.”

“It’s still a shite law. The Ministry should not be reducing us to breeding stock.”

Prudence threw up her hands. “See what I’ve been dealing with?! Every time this comes up she runs off to chase another mastery! Shirking her responsibilities to our world as a whole!”

Hermione slammed her hands down onto the table. “I put my life at risk for this world! I Obliviated myself from my own parents’ memories and made myself an orphan for this world! What were you doing while Harry, Ron and I were starving and freezing in a flimsy old tent in the woods with Death Eaters and snatchers chasing after us, looking for horcruxes and facing death every which way we turned? Sitting in your nice, comfy flat sipping cocoa?!”

“LADIES!” Bulstrode grabbed Prudence’s arm before she went for her wand and held a placating hand towards Hermione. “Let us behave like rational adults.” He waited until both witches sat back in their chairs. The man must have been a supervisor in the DOM. If he wasn’t, he likely should have been. Or a mediator.

“As I was saying, the Ministry would not like to lose you, Miss Granger. But we are not wholly unreasonable. You are right in that we have already reclaimed Métis Gaunt. The DMFA sent us your file a month before your were scheduled to present your final dissertation for your mastery in hopes we might be able to find someone suitable to your… well… someone who would suit you. He’s been back with us for three weeks now and has been undergoing education and classes to bring him up to speed with the current times. To say he’s been somewhat… shaken would be putting it mildly. If it helps, he’s no more pleased with the reason why than you. While I’m sure he doesn’t dislike being alive again, he does not care for having been returned to life to be… breeding stock as you put it.”

That was something. “So he can think for himself.”

“Just so. All we ask is that you give it a chance. We’re not saying you have to go down the hall and say your vows today. Just… at least agree to a courtship period. Say… six month?” Prudence gave a rather impressive impersonation of a chicken. “Three months,” Bulstrode quickly amended. “Give the man three months to see if you might be suitable to one another and then we can revisit the matter.”

“Or I could just enroll for that potions mastery.”

Prudence scowled. “The Ministry will not grant another reprieve! Sign up for it if you must, but you will attend classes as a married witch!”

As much as she hated the idea, the urge to pull out her wand and snap it in two was very strong. If only to spite the bitch!

Instead, Hermione threw up her hands. “Fine! Three months! I’ll give it three months, starting Friday.” It was Tuesday.

Bulstrode tilted his head. “Why Friday?”

“Because I’ve got plans every night until then. I’ve promised to babysit Harry’s kids so he can travel to see Ginny’s game.” And she missed the little buggers. It wasn’t that she didn’t like children. She loved children. She just preferred they be someone else’s so she could give them back when she was done playing with them.

Prudence looked ready to protest but it was obvious that Bulstrode was calling the shots now as far as her case was concerned. “Starting Friday, then. Somewhere neutral? We’ll arrange for a table to be held at Pasquale’s in Diagon Alley. Gratis for this first get together. It’s where the Ministry holds most of its dinner meetings and is nice without being over-the-top romantic. It’s where my wife prefers to go when we just want a quiet dinner out but aren’t feeling sappy. Say, seven o’clock that evening?”

She had to give them something. She really had been pushing it and she didn’t want to leave the magical community. She had bought herself three more months. Miracles could happen in three months. If worse came to worse, she could just bite the bullet and pay the fines until they managed to beat some sense into the Wizengamont. “I’ll be there.”

She stepped out of the flue at 12 Grimmauld Place looking less than happy. Harry was attempting to get something out of Albus’ hair that looked like a lot like chewing gum. “Do I need to help you hide Prudence Cattermole’s body?”

“No. She brought backup. Some bruiser from the DOM.”

Harry’s hands froze. “DOM? Fuuu…dge.” He tried to keep it clean around the kids. “They pulled a rez for you?”

“You knew that was a real thing?”

“Yeah. Seen a couple. Both from old families that don’t exist any more. Or didn’t, I guess now. One was done witch originally from the 1500s. She about fainted when she saw how short the hemlines are now. What…uh…I mean who’d you get?”

Hermione flicked her wand and the thing slid painlessly from the toddler’s locks. She’d seen Fleur use it on Victiore. “Métis Gaunt.”

Her best friend stared at her. “Gaunt? Gaunt!? Have they lost their minds?!”

“Apparently.” She handed him the dossier she’d been given on her marriage prospect. Albus stood on the coffee table and promptly demanded smooches from Auntie Hermy, which she promptly delivered. “To hear Bulstrode talk, Marvolo’s baby brother was dead set on bettering himself before dragon pox got him.”

Harry scowled. “Is this a copy error?”

“What?”

“The family tree. The part where it says Riddle’s grandfather married his sister?”

“Nope.”

“Ewww. That might explain a few things.” He shuddered and shifted papers around. “Did they pick him based on NEWT scores? He almost got as high as you.”

“I don’t know. It was probably was part of it, but if they’re bringing back people who died ‘too young’ I wager the family he’s from was a bigger piece. One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and all that. They likely hope to take it beyond just those twenty-eight if they can manage it.”

“What are you going to do?” He was studying the photo with a frown.

“I agreed to a courtship. They’re giving me three months to see if I think I could tolerate him.”

Harry’s brows nearly vanished into his hairline. “Three months? The most I’ve heard is two weeks.”

“He was going to give me six months but Cattermole nearly had an aneurysm.” Hermione frowned. “That Bulstrode person seemed bent on getting my cooperation. Went on about it being a loss if I opted go Muggle.”

Harry went pale. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

“If it was my only option? I wouldn’t like it, but I could do it. I made sure to get another degree in something I could make a decent living at if I had to while I was at uni.”

Her friend looked ill at the idea. “Hermione, you can’t leave. You just….just can’t leave. Not after everything you’ve done for them. After making them admit you belong here. You can’t leave!”

She sighed. “I did all that and I’ve been reduced to nothing but a fertile womb. A breeding bi…” She caught herself. Technically bitch’ wouldn’t be a swear in this context but she doubted Ginny would appreciate the kids saying it. “I feel betrayed by all this. You and Ginny were already in love. It just meant you married sooner. But I didn’t want this yet.”

“I know. And you’re not the only one. People are struggling. It’s not all sunshine and lollies like the papers try to say. If the numbers hadn’t been so bad they never would have gotten away with passing it, but they were desperate. Families like the Weasleys are rare. Almost unheard of. Most of the old families struggle to manage one healthy kid. They’re only now starting to admit it’s their own fault.” He waved the sheet with the Gaunt family tree. “Some families more at fault than others.”

“That doesn’t mean people like you and me should be required to fix it.”

Harr shook his head and tossed the folder onto the table. Albus was currently trying to climb his pseudo-aunt and she helped him find a perch on her hip. “He looks like Riddle. I don’t like it. Riddle looked like his muggle father, not the Gaunts, but I suppose lots of people have black hair and dark eyes.” He looked as though he was trying to convince himself rather than her. “Have you met him yet?”

“No, though they did whatever it is they do three weeks ago. They’ve been catching him up to the twenty-first century. I’ve agreed to a meeting Friday night after you get home.”

“You want me to come with?”

She did but it wasn’t feasible. “I think that would be pushing things. I really have been skirting the lines the past few years. If I’m fair, they are tryin* to work with me for whatever reason.”

Harry scoffed. “Because you’re Hermione Granger. Brightest witch of our age. The only person to beat Riddle’s scholastic record and war heroine. You’re too popular. And they probably hope you’ll fall madly in love with the guy and the pair of you will make a pack of swotty, super powerful wizards.” He was likely correct.

She hated it, but she really couldn’t run from it any longer. She’d been nineteen when she sat for her NEWTs. The charms mastery took two years. The arithmancy took three. She now had two masteries in magical disciplines and a masters in one muggle field. It had been five years of long nights in the library and computer labs and few to no holidays. Now she was a highly educated, highly skilled witch and the Ministry expected her to set all that aside to reproduce on command. The magical world was already stuck in the Victorian era in many ways. Witches with young children simply did not work. If a witch had a career, she waited until her youngest was off to school.

Ginevra was quite the scandal. Two children at home and still playing. Molly watched the boys while Harry was at work. It shocked the public and set tongues wagging, but so far few seemed brave enough to follow their example.

Hermione settled in to spend three days and two nights with her two favorite boys. At least James and Albus Potter liked her just as she was.

Friday came too damn soon. Still, a deal was a deal.

Hermione spent the day sending her resume and CV to prospective employers. She didn’t need to rush. The monetary component of her Order of Merlin was substantial and she had a nice nest egg from her paternal grandparents along with the house she’d shared with her parents before sending them into hiding. It was boring and lonely with just her there, but it did allow her plenty of privacy for her experiments.

Experiments like her magically altered toys. The trouble with magical places was that they screwed with muggle technology. That was why she couldn’t have a CD Walkman while at Hogwarts. Those new iPods or a laptop computer were right out. And how much easier would it have been for muggleborn students if they’d been able to take a mobile phone with them to school so they could stay in touch with their parents? While at uni, however, she had studied three fields that gave her a good amount of insight into possible ways to merge technology and magic.

She flexed her fingers over her Thinkpad T30. The battery had been replaced with a carefully constructed array of magically charged crystals encased in a chamber filled with a potion of her own creation. While the purely muggle version had a battery life of 3 hours, her version could go for 12 before needing a recharging charm to boost back up. The current version had lasted four months so far. The previous one had failed after two months and had only boasted an 8 hour run.

She’d also managed to adapt a printer as well and much preferred it to quill and ink. Printer ink was still pricey but the feeder would take sheets of parchment and the print was so much clearer. She was still unsure how to wirelessly network her house magically and was forced to rely on an actual Ethernet cable for internet connection, but she had some ideas. Though the expected the average witch or wizard already in the adult world to be hesitant, she foresaw the upcoming muggleborns and half bloods exposed to the Muggle world to be greatly appreciative of her works.

They’d lose their shite if she could implement email. As it was, she had to apparate to the nearest Owlry to send the scrolls off to her potential employers.

She arrived home to find a pale haired, well dressed wizard waiting on her doorstep. “Malfoy.”

Draco gave her a sneer that didn’t reach his eyes. “Granger.” His haughty, ‘I’m better than you’ attitude lasted all of five seconds. “I’ve come to see if you need help fleeing back into the world of academia. Though this time I am afraid the Malfoy family will require some reciprocity.”

She gave a snort of amusement. “Thank you for the offer, but the Ministry and I have reached a truce. Tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She let him into her home, hanging her jacket and his outer robe into the small coat closet. He looked around as she made her way to the kitchen to start the kettle. “So what kind of truce did you reach? They find some handsome Quidditch player you just couldn’t say ‘no’ to?”

“I do not have a thing for Quidditch players.”

“History would indicate otherwise. For someone who doesn’t much care for the sport or flying in general, you certainly have found yourself in the company of those who do. Always puzzled me, if I’m truthful. I half expected you to be one of those brainy girls who had the hots for their professor.”

“Most of my professors at uni were either women or old enough to be my grandfather. Or great-grandfather.”

He looked over into her study and tilted his head. “I suppose living in a muggle neighborhood has its perks. I’ve seen those at my accountant’s office. Well, the muggle accou…. Merlin’s Balls! Granger, is that thing running on magic?!”

She looked up to see the wizard vanish into her study and hurried around to make sure he didn’t accidentally break anything. She found him crouching down in front of her desk and studying her laptop, poking at the magic battery with a finger. “Yes it is.”

“How?”

“It’s something I’m working on. I got a masters in computers while I was working on charms and arithmancy. Just in case.”

He looked up. “In case of what?”

“In case I had to give up and go muggle. I would need a way to support myself or I’d go bonkers.”

He gave her a look that was very much like the one Harry had when she’d mentioned it to him. “Leave and go back to the muggles? You’re joking, right?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t think that would bother you.”

Draco scowled. “I’d like to think I’ve matured enough to recognize you for the witch that you are, Granger. You’ve too much to offer our world to let you slip away. Especially if you’re doing things like this. Who are your backers?”

“I don’t have any. I’m mostly doing it for myself thus far. Proof of concept and all that. And there’s still things that I don’t have the reach socially for, such as implementing ways for us to access mobile networks and the internet magically. I have ideas and I’ve been tinkering with the charms and spells to do it, but I’ll have to start just here at the house.”

Draco’s jaw was hanging slightly open. “Granger, you have to let me back you in this.”

She blinked. “You want to back me?”

“Yes! I told you I’ve seen computers in my accountant’s office. The Ministry battered our family accounts in reparations for the war. We’re not poor by any means, but we’re not where we once were and I’ve got businesses and employees to think of. Muggle markets are lucrative, especially the tech ones. I’ve seen how useful they find these things but I can’t get one to work at the manor. Is that a printer?”

She smiled as he hurried over to where the printer was and saw that she had it loaded with parchment sheets. “It is. And it works as well. I had to come up with a couple of new fonts to better mimic hand writing by quill. I didn’t think that possible employers might react well to more commercialized print.”

“Let me back you and you won’t have to find a job. You can dedicate yourself to just this. And I can help you find any other staff you want. Fifty-fifty split.”

“Fifty-fifty?”

He grimaced. “Okay, sixty-forty and I take the forty. If I’m right, even a forty percent share of this will make me richer than Midas.”

“You’re already richer than Midas.”

“No, I’m very comfortable. I meant it when I said the Ministry hit us hard. If we pull this off, our grandchildren’s grandchildren won’t have to work. I can have a preliminary contract worked up for you to go over by Monday.”

It was tempting. She did like making the tech work with her magic. It was exciting and new. She supposed she might be the first real ‘technomancer’ as much of what she was trying to do was uncharted territory. Oh sure there were cars that had been enchanted to slide through traffic or fly and some wizards enchanted ‘muggle artifacts’ just to screw with people, but no one had yet made a serious attempt to truly meld muggle technology with the magical world. It was a shame, actually. Think of what they could accomplish if they just had access to the World Wide Web?

“Okay. I’ll look it over and give it some thought. You want that tea, still?”

“Definitely.”

They saw in her parlor over a nice Earl Grey. “So, not a quidditch player?”

“No, not a quidditch player. At least… I don’t think. I really don’t know. They pulled a rez.”

Draco blinked. “Really? Fuck. Some of those guys are ancient. Well, I mean they’re physically young, but they come fro way back. What time?”

“Born late 1800s. Died of dragon box at twenty-three in 1907.”

“Could be worse. Not too much has changed socially on the magical side, though I bet the bloke nearly swallowed his tongue if he’s seen some of the fashion changes in the muggle side of things these days. Gotta admit that I love short skirts. Especially with heels.”

“You’re married.”

“Like them on Tori just as much. When I can convince her to wear them. And I can look. I just don’t sample the menu. Have you met him yet?”

“No. Just got a file on him. Harry doesn’t like it.”

“What’s Potter’s problem?”

Hermione grimaced. “It’s Métis Gaunt. He’s Tom Riddle’s grand-uncle.”

Silver-grey eyes went wide. “Fuck. You sure?” She nodded. “Damn. I would have thought they’d steer clear of that family. They took the whole blood purity thing too far. Rumor was thy even married siblings.”

“Turns out that was true. Riddle’s grandfather and grandmother were siblings. This is their younger brother. The only one who actually went to Hogwarts rather than be home schooled and seems to have made an effort to strike out on his own before he took ill. He’s supposed to be quite intelligent. He edged out Dumbledore’s scores and held the top spot until Riddle.”

“Who held the top spot until some bushy haired little swot came along. So they went with intelligence. Do they want to create the next dark lord?” He ran an elegant hand over his face. “What are they thinking?”

“I’ve no idea. I’d think this was my case worker’s way of getting back at me for refusing the fall into line and spread my legs like a good little brood mare if it weren’t for the fact that my entire case appears to have been taken over by the DOM. Do you know anything about a Horace Bulstrode?”

Malfoy frowned. “No, but I can tell you that the family were supporters of the dark lord. The Bulstrodes married with he Flints more than once. The Flints were the ones who stood up front and the Bulstrodes kept their heads down.”

“So you don’t know if he was a death eater himself?”

“Most of them wore masks at all times, Hermione. None of us knew all the others. And contrary to popular belief, not all were marked. Some were purposefully left unmarked so they could remain undetected. Even when the aurors had interrogated the ones they captured and got other potential names, by then it was too late. If you have access to a skilled potioneer you can regrow a limb.” He rubbed his arm where the dark mark was hidden under his suit. “I considered doing it myself if only because I hate the sight of the damn thing. In the end I kept it if only as a reminder where bad choices can lead me.”

So there were likely still death eaters at the Ministry of Magic. Hermione shivered. “They gave me a photo. Harry says it looks a lot like Riddle. Back when he was young.”

“They’re family.”

“Yes, but Tom Riddle was supposed to be a copy of his muggle father, not the Gaunts.” She hugged herself without realizing it. “The Ministry can be idiots at time, but they couldn’t be that stupid, could they? I mean, they wouldn’t bring him back.”

Draco scowled. “I would hope not. That whole damn law is because of the mess he put us in to begin with. “. He set down his cup. “I’ve got resources still. There might be a record somewhere. A family portrait of some kind. I can see if my people can find something about this Métis Gaunt bloke. See if we can figure out what he’s supposed to look like.

“Besides no offense, but you’d be the last witch he’d agree to be shackled to. Muggle born pain in the arse that you are.”

“There is that. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t contact Bulstrode and tell him I’ve changed my mind about Sirius Black. Ask them to try and reclaim him instead.”

Draco’s pointy face broke into a grin. “Did you have a thing for my cousin?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t have a ‘thing’ for Sirius. But I knew him and I liked him well enough. And… and Harry would like to have him back. I just… when they asked if I was interested in him I said ‘no’ because I didn’t think we were right for each other, but I did say that I thought he should be considered over all. If anyone deserves a second chance it’s him.”

“Agreed. He got screwed over worse than most. But you’re right, you wouldn’t suit. Even I’ve heard about his exploits. That wizard would never keep it in his trousers and you deserve better. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you opted to run back to uni rather than let the two of us be bullied into marriage, but I can admit you’re a hell of a witch. In another life we might have made a go of it. As it is, I think we’d be far better off as business partners and maybe even friends.”

“What did bring you to my door today, Draco?”

“Oh, I was honest about offering a way for you to go back to uni if you wanted. Also thought I’d feel you out for potential hiring if you didn’t. I did not expect to walk into your home and stumble across a potential gold mine. Damn, but I can’t wait to see what you pull off. And I want one of those portal computing devices. I know I probably can’t access all the features just yet, but I can at least start learning how to use it for when you’ve got us all set up so that we can. I understand you can use them to keep track of and easily calculate and predict market values.”

“You can. And draft documents. And entertainment and gaming.”

He frowned. “Gaming and entertainment? I thought they were primarily for industrial and commercials work.”

Hermione grinned and checked the clock on the wall. “I’ve got a few hours before my Ministry required ‘date’. Let me show you a few things.”

She had agreed to do this. She would not be churlish and play the dowd.

She wasn’t going to dress up and send any false messages, either.

She settled on a simple sheath dress in burgundy, the cut gently flared to allow for ease of movement. It had a square neckline that was relatively shallow to allow for modesty and quarter sleeves. She did not cover up the ‘mudblood’ scar on her inner forearm. She transfigured a pair of trainers into low heeled pumps that were still comfortable enough to run in if she needed to make a quick get away. She’d become adept and controlling her hair over the years and tamed it into waves, pulling it back form her face with a pair of combs charmed not to slip or displace and kept her makeup minimal with some tinted moisturizer to even out her skin tone and a bit of gloss for her lips.

She wore her wand on a thigh holster under the skirt. Another reason she chose the flared cut.

Just in case the Ministry was that stupid.

Pasquale’s was where Fortescue’s used to be. The quaint sweet shopped hadn’t survived the war. The rubble had been cleared out and now there was a restaurant that, for all that it had an Italian name, was very much Greek. The atmosphere was relaxed but between layout and layered charms, the individual tables were quiet and excellent for business meetings or just quiet dining. With it being Friday evening, there were people milling about outside waiting for a table, but the hostess recognized her on sight.

“Miss Granger! We’ve been expecting you. Your party is waiting.”

She was escorted past other patrons. The charms on the place meant she didn’t have to hear any murmured whispers, but she could feel curious eyes on her as she made her way to a table somewhat hidden by carefully placed plants and artwork. There was a man sitting at the table. As they approached he looked up from the menu before setting it down onto the table and rising from his seat.

The photo the DOM had taken of him did not do Métis Gaunt justice. He had a pale complexion, but it was the smooth uniformity of alabaster rather than sickly. It was in sharp contrast to his blue-black hair and his eyes were a shade of blue so dark they almost looked black themselves. His face looked as though he could have been sculpted by Davinci or Michelangelo. Her certainly did not seem to have an of the oddness of features so often seen in the pureblood families. The subtle tell tale signs of too many generations of marrying relations.

He offered a polite smile and a nod. “Miss Granger.”

She realized she had been staring and felt herself blush. “Hermione, please. I take it you are Métis Gaunt?”

“I am.” He came around the table and held out her chair for her. His manners were fine and spoke to an older, more refined era. She gave him a nod of thanks and took the seat, allowing herself to be pushed back in. “And if I am to call you ‘Hermione’ it is only fitting that you call me ‘Metis’.”

He reclaimed his seat across from her. “I am afraid that I don’t know much about Greek cuisine. I wasn’t sure what to order or what you may like, so I thought to wait for you to join me.”

“Thank you. Have you had a chance to decide?”

He looked at the menu. “I will admit I’m still bit lost. Do you know this place?”

“I’ve been a few times. Is there anything you cannot eat or just hate?”

A smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Escargot, but fortunately the food isn’t French.” He made a motion of his hand for her to choose.

Hermione gave a nod. “Appetizers, then. If the Ministry is going to offset our being required to be here by picking up the tab, we may we well enjoy ourselves.” She double checked the menu to see if there had been any significant changes since the time she’d come here with George and Angelina. “Tomatokeftedes and kolokithokeftedes with tzatziki.”

The magic of the staff made the dishes appear in only a breath or two. Metis gave a nod of his head. “And those would be?”

“Tomato fritters and fried courgette. Tzatziki is just a popular sauce made from yogurt, olive oil, cucumbers and some other spices. It goes with most anything.”

He seemed intrigued and let her select a few bites first before trying some for himself. The food was excellent as always and they had a few moments of silence to savor it while each of them was no doubt gathering their thoughts.

“This… is rather awkward.”

That was putting it mildly. “Which part? The part where the Ministry of Magic is resurrecting people from the past to increase our numbers or the part where they do so just so they can try to pair them up with complete strangers?”

“The first part. The second is not all that strange other than it is the Ministry doing it rather than my parents or family. Arranged marriages were quite common in my time. I am told they are not unheard of now, but primarily only amongst the pureblood lines and considerably less so among half bloods or muggleborns.”

“And yet you were never married.”

“Not from lack of trying. But I was the spare. Not as important to my father and grandfather as Marvolo and my mother’s favorite.” He grimaced. “It helped that there was only three of us. If I’d had another sister, there would have been no avoiding it.” He looked unsettled by the thought. According to the family tree, it wasn’t only Marvolo and his sister Morphina that were wed. Erebus and Hemera Gaunt weren’t just sibling spouses but also twins.

“You disapproved of the practice?”

“Of course I did. It is wrong. Disturbingly so. I had my misgivings about it when I was young, but going to Hogwarts truly opened my eyes to just how perverse the practice was. I was thirteen when our parents died and Rasalas passed when I was fifteen. After that what little supervision I had was Marvolo and he was mostly content to leave me be as long as I stayed out from under his feet and did nothing he would see as ‘improper’. For the most part that meant not getting involved with muggles.”

“Of muggle born witches?”

His eyes flicked to the scar on her forearm. “Or muggle born witches. No, my brother would not have approved of you. Not in the slightest. On the other hand, I can be quite assured that you are neither my sister nor my cousin. A relief in more ways than just blood.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Morphina may have been my sister, but I will admit that she was less than pretty and… not very bright. Other than a solid skill at potions and the ability to speak parsletongue, she wasn’t that powerful of a witch, either. Morphin was only four or five when I last saw him and he was showing some significant signs of accidental magic, so there was some hope there. I had just learned they were expecting again when I took ill. That would have been Merope, so I never met my niece.”

“So the decrease in power concerned you.”

“It should concern any magical family. It is also the price of ‘keeping it in the family’ so to speak. I will be honest in that I do not understand why it has taken our people so longer to realize this. We’ve noticed it in breeding live stock and hunting hounds for generations. Why would we think ourselves immune from the same?”

Their appetizers done, they tried to decide what to have a main course. Metis was having trouble deciding between lamb mousakka and kleftiko. Hermione liked both so they compromised to split the dishes between the two of them.

“We have been speaking mostly about me. If you will indulge me, I only met two muggle borns during my time at Hogwarts. At the turn of the last century there was still a tendency of muggle families to refuse to let their children study magic. Religion still played a large role in those decisions. I’m told now, however, it is more common for a muggle family to let their child attend school if they have magic. Have they become more tolerant? I got conflicting answers in the Ministry and, I will confess, this is my first truly unchaperoned excursion outside of the DOM since my reclamation.”

“They’ve kept you locked up in there the whole month? Merlin, they really are setting you up for a sensory overload.” She shook her head in disbelief. “A lot of it is greater tolerance. Most see witchcraft as…something of a religion in its own right but they are mostly thinking of Wicca. Religious tolerance is important these days in most industrialized nations, though there are still places where other views are held. A good portion of it, however, is likely due to disbelief. Both in religion itself and in magic.

“But if I were to point my finger in any one direction, I’d say you could thank Tolkien and Lewis. And Lucas in my case.”

“Wizards?”

She grinned. “No. Writers. Artists, really. JRR Tolkien gave us The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings and his tales of Middle Earth. All about heroes and elves and wizards. Epic battles and great magic. CS Lewis gave us The Chronicles of Narnia where British children journey to a magical world where magical creatures strive to defeat evil. And George Lucas… he gave us Star Wars. Set in space instead of on any place that looks like Earth and with giant ships that journey between stars. With people able to use the Force, which is essentially magic, and protect others using swords made of light.” She gave a shrug. “When strange things happened around me, I was convinced I was actually a Jedi and any day Yoda or Luke Skywalker would show up to take me on adventures. Instead I got a witch with a Scottish accent and a letter telling me I had been accepted into Hogwarts.”

“Ah.” He leaned back in his seat and thought it over. “They introduced the concept of magic into the popular literature. Couching it as benign or even preferable. As children you grow up hearing about it and you learn to accept it.”

Hermione nodded. “And we either believe it to be fiction, beautiful fantasy and not real, or we believe it to be possible. When it lands in our laps that we have magic ourselves, it is easier for us to accept that there’s a secret school somewhere in Scotland where we can learn spells and how to work wonders.”

“Hmm..” He gave a sideway nod of his head. “Pity no one thought of pushing that before. It could have saved a great deal of trouble.”

“I don’t think it was always possible before. The religious institutions did hold a great deal of sway over such things before. At one point in time they would have you executed for daring to say Earth is not the center of the universe for pity’s sake. Who knows what they would have done to an author who dared to write something like the Dresden Files.”

“The what?”

“Oh, they’re new. American author. I think the first one was published in 2000. A little rough around the edges yet, but still interesting. All about a wizard living in the city of Chicago who works as a private investigator. Mostly does things such as finding lost items or track faithless spouses to get evidence that can be used in a divorce, but he also uses his magic to lift curses or stops the fae from taking off with people’s children. The books, however, will center around one major case with series complications. The most recent one involved a war between the Summer and Winter courts of the Fae kicked off because someone had stolen the mantle of power belonging to the Summer Knight. If either side truly won, it would throw the world into a climate crisis. Either a major ice age or significant rise in temperatures which would melt the polar ice caps and flood coastal cities. I’ve heard that MCUSA is keeping a close eye on the author. He’s supposedly a muggle but much of what he writes is a bit too close to home.”

“Why don’t they just put a stop to it?”

“That’s… not as easy as it may have been at one time. Not with modern printing methods and with he speed information can be sent over great distances.” How do explain it. “I… they really have done you a disservice by keeping you shut up below the Ministry. If it weren’t so late I could take you out into muggle London and show you what I mean, but I would need access to some shops and venues that would be closing here soon.”

“Perhaps another day, then? I believe we’re supposed to try and keep company with one another at least three months.”

“That was the deal. I almost got us six months but I think Bulstrode from the DOM was trying to prevent my case worker from DMFA from having the vapors so he reduced it to three.”

“He did mention something about a witch who was too high strung. He also said she was going about ‘handling’ you all wrong.”

Hermione’s brow went up. “Handing me?”

“Hm. He describes you as an intellectual. The product of two people who were both healers, thus educated and professional. You are also someone who was on the front line of this last war and went through terrible things.” A single finger flicked in the direction of her scar. “Saw things that a girl of nineteen should not have and it’s left its mark. Bulstrode is of the opinion that trying to force you into a role for which you were never raised is unwise. He thinks that instead they should appeal to your mind. I’m still not entirely sure if I am the wizard that can do that, but the DOM seems hopeful.”

“Does not that bother you at all? What even happen? Did you fall asleep in 1907 and wake up nearly century later with some stranger smiling down saying ‘welcome back to the living, here, we want you to marry this strange witch’?”

“That’s.. not far off the mark. I would clarify that I didn’t fall into a peaceful sleep as I was ill. When I woke I was convinced I was in some kind of fever induced hallucination for the first few days. It was a week before they finally sat me down and told me what was happening.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“It certainly wasn’t pleasant. But, I was no longer burning with fever. My head no longer felt as though it would burst. And I no longer felt as though I wanted to claw off my skin. When I was told that I had died but was being given another chance at life, well, to be honest, I’m still not entirely sure this isn’t all a fever dream.”

“And I thought I had it bad. This has to all seem utterly mad to those of you waking up centuries in the future. I have a friend in the DMLE, Harry Potter. He told me he knows of a witch they brought back form the 1400s. I can’t even imagine what she has to be thinking. The English language alone has gone through monumental changes since her time.”

“It’s gone through several changes since mine.” He set his napkin down onto the table and toyed with his glass. He’d nursed only the one glass of wine the entire evening. Not a heavy drinker, then. That was good. “I confess, I think the most disturbing was learning about the wars. Especially the last two. I have to admit to being surprised they would even consider me for this entire effort given what I know about who was behind it all.”

“Ah. They told you about him.”

“That it was my own kin at the heart of the last two major insurrections? Yes.”

“I’ll be honest as well. I wasn’t entirely thrilled when they told me who you were. Given the family connection.”

“I’d have doubts about your vaunted intelligence if you hadn’t any concerns. I know my family. I know what kind of people they were. I did my best to claw my way free of them as much as I could. I must have made some progress, I suppose. Enough that they saw fit to judge me on my own merits rather than on the Gaunt family name.”

They did. “So… perhaps I should try giving you a chance as well. I mean, we just met.”

He gave her a slight smile. “I think I’d like that.” A sly light came into his eyes and he leaned forward a bit. It was hardly needed given the setting, but at that moment he looked like Ron or Harry back in school, with some bit of news or mad prank they wanted her help with. She found herself leaning forward as though she needed to in order to better hear. “They may have me buried under the Ministry, but I do see things. I have made at least one observation that may interest you.”

Oh? “What observation?”

“They’re terrified.”

“Of what?”

“Of you. The Ministry is frightened that you’ll walk. That after everything you’ve gone through, this law may be the thing that finally makes you throw up your hands and just leave it all behind. They’re too afraid to dissolve the law, I haven’t seen the numbers but they must have been that upsetting, but they know you’re too popular and well liked. There are those that are afraid that if you walk away after everything you’ve done for them, others may follow. And that has them quaking in their boots.”