Chapter Text
’’No discolouring” Hermione muttered, the piece of talon slowly rotated in the air at the flick of her wand. The sharp talon was too small to belong to a fully grown Welsh Green and that concerned her. It might have been around eight- or nine-month-old, far too young to separate from its mother.
’’And what does that tell us?” the team coordinator stood behind her, letting her observe the object.
’’The flock is undocumented” came her immediate reply. ’’It should be either red or blue, depending on which Dragoncare Association it belongs to.”
’’Well done” the supervisor said.’’Raiding a dragon keeping facility won’t be an everyday occurrence for you, but I believe it’s still important to get insight into each division. Take the objects into account and do the report on today’s events.”
The steps faded into the background as Wilson left to join their team at the other side of the warehouse, starting to repair the destroyed concrete. Almost half the building was missing and the walls that were still standing were blackened; the signs of dragon fire marred the place. Some destroyed cages were lying around, pieces of broken crates and a few batch of herbs that were being collected by her colleague.
They were alerted first thing in the morning. A muggle claiming she saw „lizards with see-through wings” flying about in the open air. Now her memories were currently rewritten, a script stating that she was witnessing an aeroplane competition. Hermione straightened her legs from her crouched position and walked to the ruined crates, careful not to inhale the smoke and the disturbed dust.
Lack of proper care and no coordination. That’s what led to this accident and to the discovery of the dealings of whoever the culprits were. They were gone by the time the Beast Division arrived, the only lead left for them the ruins if the warehouse and the faint traces of magic, so vague that it was impossible for them to identify. The talon of this poor young Welsh would maybe give them a direction. The ends were hooked, meaning originally its from the rocky beaches, used to cling to the harsh terrain of the vertical land, with the sea raging below them. She was wondering why it was there in the first place; chicks had almost no use on the market, their heartstrings weren’t strong enough to place them in wands, and separating them from their mother would –
She barely caught it, from the swirling of ashes around her, but maybe the dark smoke is what made the material stand out so much from its surroundings. It was torn from something, maybe caught on one of the bars poking out around here. Now that she was looking at it closer she could make out half a floral pattern, and an originally white cotton base that was greyed from the smoke.
Or from excessive wearing.
Hermione Granger had the pleasure to meet and get to know a lot of house elves during her schoolyears at Hogwarts. She knew of their way of living, their laws for existence and their usual attire. It was the reason she applied to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It was the reason why she was standing in an abandoned dragon smuggling facility at 9 am out in the middle of the Scottish countryside.
She hurried and collected a small see through bag the team brought with themselves for collecting evidence. Knowing that even the tiniest bit of magical interference could ruin a good lead, she was careful not to use magic and accidentally leave her own mark on the fragment. The girl fished out a pair of long clips from her pocket and collected the fabric, marking it for later inspection.
Back in the office, her report was lying half done in front of her. With the outline of the incident, name and location done, she was now interested in the curious little cloth that was spread out in its transparent holder. The holder was made from Gaump’s honey-drip bark, thinned out so much that the tree could be woven like it was a thread. And its magic-proofing quality helped containing any kind of magical trace, while keeping influence outside.
She absent-mindedly picked it up and put it down again, resisting the urge to cast spells on it, in order to reveal its owner. This was a delicate thing, and while her wand wouldn’t be able to pick out the trace of an elf, something similar could help.
She sent a request for the Hound. Not an actual hound, as she had found out in her first days, but a wand, specifically built for tracing magical identities. The Department gave it the nickname and it stuck as it was fitting enough.
Hermione placed down the clothing and returned to her report. She had included the description of the scene’s environment, the state of the building and the following procedure that should take place. She was mulling over the possibilities, the different directions that this could go and where could it be rooted. The miscare of the dragons was obvious, but the whole warehouse was wiped clean of magical origin. This spoke of professional work. For the innocent eye, it might as well look like an accident. A generator overheating, electricity short circuiting – the possibilities were endless.
Her musings were interrupted by the polite knocking of a paper plane, with a package attached to it.
’’Erm, come in, please” she waved, feeling rather stupid that she was talking to a flying piece of paper.
The plane took a bow and landed in front of her with the package that on closer look was a wooden box of a wand.
’’Thank you” the girl said to the plane with gratitude, a genuine smile on her lips. It was still new for her how…professional the Department treated her. Which was stupid of course, although still an intern, Hermione was going steady on the path of becoming a full member of the squad. But it was surprising how seriously they took her requests. She didn’t need to bother her supervisor for a permission slip or deliberately explain her reasoning. She needed the Hound for it to sniff out a trace and that was it.
With the last piece of the puzzle taking place, and a new one forming, she unboxed the robust piece of wood. It was a heavy wand, metal runes forged onto it by ancient force. Hermione gingerly untangled the evidence bag’s knot and let the cloth fragment slip out onto the table.
’’Appare vestigium”
Nothing happened.
Hermione frowned. Was the incantation wrong? She pointed the heavy object at her own wand and repeated the words. Ghostly lines shot out and then circled around her, hugging her hand like vines circling.
Or was she wrong? could this piece just be what it appeared to be? A piece of cloth left there by ordinary muggles, forgotten by time, the result of an accidental tearing?
She pointed at the fabric again, and concentrated harder than before. The world quieted around her, the shuffling of robes and messages flying about faded into the distance, until she could pick out the only hum of power that mattered to her at the moment.
It was there, faint and vague as elf magic could be, but undoubtedly magical origin. She exhaled, repeating the words again.
The cloth did not budge.
Hermione hummed. It looked like even the Hound couldn’t pick up on the trail. She was annoyed; all of the investigation will be stumped, because Wizarding kind for centuries have dismissed the elves as nothing but slaves, refusing to spend time and fund researches into this delicate form of magic.
’’There must be another way” she sheeted. Think, think.
She could maybe use Prior Incantato, just to see – no, the elf most likely disapparated after the incident. Ask the help of an actual werewolf to sniff them out? Only one came to her mind, but doubted that Remus could pick up a magical scent and follow it all the way…
She looked around her office, the light shining on the glass cabinets containing books that have been left here by her predecessors and the ones she had brought with herself. It was not a big place, the tapestries painted red and gold ornaments – her own spin on decoration, in Gryffindor colours – gave it a homely feeling. It did become her second home, she almost spend more time in the office than anywhere else, burying herself in work, for the dismay of her friends. Ginny once tried to guilt-trip her by saying that Crookshanks was heartbroken because he barely saw her anymore. For which Hermione replied that her orange lion of a cat had to be begged home from the garden, when Hermione couldn’t find him for three days straight.
Her eyes landed on the Daily Prophet, lying on the edge of her desk. The front page was covered with the arrest of Antonin Dolohov, an infamous wizard who somehow dodged the arrests almost twenty years ago. Well not anymore. Hermione smiled to herself; this was Harry’s first case since joining the force, being dead set on doing the most he could as a freshman among the Aurors. He couldn’t tell the details of course, but Hermione had a suspicion that his friend was one of the few aurors tasked with tailing the criminal, since she never saw him entering the Ministry for the past few weeks, and judging by Ginny’s letters, he wasn’t sharing much info with his girlfriend either.
She closed her eyes and pursed her lips together in annoyance. Of course! How didn’t it occur to her before. The one Department, that everyone had to bow in, lend help if requested was the one with answers.
The Law Enforcement must have a tracer wand as well, and maybe it was even smarter than their own Hound. The woman carefully packed away everything, with a flick of her wand, a paper folded into a plane and she attached the box to it, sending back the instrument to the Storage.
She quickly got to her feet and hurried to the elevator.
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was flooded with witches and wizards, the cubicles plastered with possible locations for hideouts, wanted posters, and red threads connecting possible clues. Hermione felt like she was dropped in the middle of a cop show. She had to recover from the mixture of impulses that enwrapped her al at once. She calmed her nerves, until only the smell of storms and a hint of magic lingered. The office was buzzing with life, all the people and the divisions working there like they made up a miniature town inside the Ministry. When she entered, she hardly got any attention, save for a wide grin from a messy haired boy with glasses. The lences cracked, again.
’’Nice to see you again!” she smiled at Harry. ’’And congratulations! Just saw the news on the Prophet.”
’’Thanks, Hermione!” he couldn’t resist a half hug. The girl closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of pine trees and wind, that reminded her of seeing the boy flying through the Quidditch grounds in Hogwarts. ’’What are you doing here?”
’’Do you have a few minutes?” she asked. ’’I don’t want to keep you up, but it’s work related.”
’’Sure,” he said. ’’Even if it wasn’t I’ll always have time for you.”
He directed them to his own cubicle, a fair little corner that was just as messy as the rest of the desks in the Department. Half written notes and skimmed reports lying everywhere, with three cups of unfinished coffee. Harry tried to get an empty chair for her, but when he found none, he offered his own, leaning against the table.
’’I see you embraced the cop life” she raised her eyebrows.
’’Who has time for order here when you have to sort the mess out there.” he shrugged. ’’Do you need help with something?”
’’You could say that,” she started, not sure how much she was allowed to say. Their cases weren’t exactly secret, but the girl still wanted to adhere to the Department’s rule of keeping the incidents discreet. ’’I’m working on a possible smuggling case, and I can’t trace the magic back on an evidence with our own devices. Do you have something similar, but stronger?”
’’We might do,” he answered. ’’But I can’t just lend it to you.”
’’No offense” Harry put up his arms in his defence.’’I don’t have authorization to give it out, cross-department bullshit and all that. I can’t even use it yet without supervision.”
Hermione still smiled, she had expected this. It was enough that the tracer existed at all, this was somewhere to start at least.
’’That’s okay, I’ll write a request,” she waved his worries away. ’’Do I need a Lead or Head Auror for it?”
’’Head Auror, I’m afraid” he grimaced.
’’Should I be afraid? the girl huffed with a smile.
’’Maybe” Harry was scratching the back of his head; an old habit she has known him to do when he was uncomfortable. ’’She’s not very lenient with this kind of stuff.”
’’Well, she can’t ignore a Ministry request, can she?”
The face Harry made told her that yes, the Head Auror very much could. ’’We’re talking about Black.”
’’As in-’’ she didn’t have to finish the sentence to know that they were talking about Sirius’s cousin. She has only met the woman once, briefly when Black was visiting Hogwarts, in the very case of her cousin.
’’It’s still worth a try,” Harry said. ’’Just don’t take anything to heart, whatever she says.”
’’I can hold my ground” Hermione smiled. She scribbled down the name to a sticky note and folded it into her pocket.
’’Oh, I’m sure of that.” he grinned.
’’Soo, tell me,” she couldn’t contain her excitement anymore. ’’How was it? You were on field, right?”
His eyes light up, and he burst into a monologue. Suddenly all Hermione could see was the awestruck fourteen-year-old boy, who had been told by Mad-Eye Moody, that he would make a fine auror one day.
’’I can’t say exactly what I did” she could see him getting red, probably embarrassed by how professional and secretive it sounded. ’’But I had to be ready and on-call for weeks, and stand ready on his possible routes- ’’
’’I think you better stop there now” she chuckled. ’’Before your boss drags you away for sharing top secret information.”
’’Oh, right” he cleared his throat. ’’This reminds me, Ginny and I are planning bit of a get-together. Ginny will have her first Hogsmeade visit this weekend, we could go to the Three Broomsticks on Friday. It’s been so long since we could spend time together, all of us.”
’’This Friday…’’ she frowned, trying to remember if she had any plans.
’’You’re not working on weekends’’ Harry pointed at her, before she could get any ideas.’’You must be free.”
’’I can have programmes other than work” she shot a look at him. ’’But yes, I am free.’’
Her fingers impatiently tapped on the desk, one of her legs drummed to the same rhythm. Hermione was annoyed. Her report was lying in front of her, in the same state she had left three days ago. She could be patient – when it was absolutely necessary, but with almost the whole week wasted, Hermione couldn’t find in herself to adhere to her own rules.
She politely inquired about Madam Black’s whereabouts for the past days. Maybe she was out on duty, stuck in meetings or just out of office for the week. Her questions were rebuffed and Harry told her she was in her office alright.
’’For God’s sake it takes one signature!” she hissed.
She could have asked her Head of Department to send the request, but the girl refused the idea before it could even surface. She won’t cover behind her superior, just because of some bureaucratic stump. And it was a simple item lending; it’s not like she asked for a whole squad from the DMLE. No, this should be resolved quickly and quietly on her own.
Which is why she was heading towards the floor of the Magical Law Enforcement.
She barely registered people around her, dodged the paper planes that she came to loathe, now that none of them were heading her way, carrying an object she most desired. She repeatedly pressed the „level two” button, waiting for the elevator’s voice to finish her announcements and to just get on with it. Merlin, if it was possible to floo to another’s office, she would…
She marched into the maze of cubicles and looked around, searching for her destination. As Head Auror, Black would surely have her own office.
And there it was.
Elegant bronze letters marked the owner and her title onto the dark wooden door. There was a window looking into the room, and Hermione took a glance, seeing that the witch was indeed there, so it was not a fruitless trip for her.
She knocked thrice, in curt tight movements, barely waiting for the muffled enter coming from the other side of the door.
The girl had to do a double take as she stepped through the threshold. The woman was sitting at her desk, head resting on her knuckles while she was hunched over a document. She simply glanced up at her visitor; bored pitch-black eyes fixed on Hermione. The curls wild and dark like their namesake, sprawled around her figure, the sunlight from the back window playing with the tips of her curls like fire.
But what hit her most was the scent.
If what she smelled before was a storm, now it was a murderous thunder with the echo of a raging sea. The smell so enchanting and commanding that the brunette wanted to take a second breath; not sure if she wanted it out of her system as soon as possible or if she wanted another taste.
She screeched her thoughts to a stop and continued her steps inside the room, hoping her slight falter wasn’t so obvious.
’’Can I help you?” the low voice drawled.
’’Hermione Granger, from Department of Magical Creatures,” she introduced herself. ’’I was hoping I would hear from you soon, but it seems like my message has been… lost in the aether.”
’’As you can see, Miss Granger, I’m rather busy.”
’’It would only take a moment.” she pressed. She will not leave this office without the approval she needed. ’’I need your permission to use the Department’s tracer.”
’’Hmm,” came a light chuckle from those red lips. ’’The Paw Patrol is out of luck?”
Hermione pursed her lips and bit back the insult that was on the tip of her tongue. “I have sent you a request. I’m sure you have received it?”
Black sighed and with a come-hither motion brought to herself Hermione’s request. The paper flew across, dangerously close to the woman standing in the middle of the room. Black quickly ran her eyes through its content and then simply threw it away.
“Absolutely not. Now if that was all – “
“Miss Black it would be crucial for my case to have the Tracer examine my evidence.” she stepped further, containing her rising anger.
Two moves and the swirl of dark robes were in front of Hermione in a blink of an eye, tint of honey dancing in the air they shared. Black was looking down on her with a snarl, clearly not appreciating being interrupted in her own office.
“As I’ve said,” she articulated each word and Hermione couldn’t help but to draw her eyes to the dark ruby lips. “We are busy here. We have an actual job to do, Miss Granger, and have no time to chase around goblins and fairies or whatever it is.”
“A house elf” Hermione seethed and saw the victorious glint in the Auror’s eye, like she had just proven her point.
“Exactly. That’s your repertoire” she smirked. “Our Tracer wand is delicate and only used for actual cases. If you can’t handle yours in-house due to your incompetence, then… well, figure it out.”
Hermione straightened her posture and raised her head so she could look straight into those abyssal eyes. She felt a shiver running down on her spine, pheromones circling her and ordering her to submit. The brunette dug her nails into her palm and controlled her breathing. This behaviour was nothing new to her.
It enraged her all the same.
“Thank you for your time, officer” she answered calmly. “I will be back shortly.”
Not waiting for a reply, she turned around and left the office, looking straight ahead, without taking a glance at Harry who waved at her from a distance.
It wouldn’t be two hours until she was back again at the devil’s mouth. Seeing that the witch was still there, alone again, reading reports like they were putting her to sleep again, she knocked in three short repetitions. She was already creaking the door open when she heard the annoyed yes coming from the other side.
“For the love of Merlin,” the woman groaned when she saw her. “Leave me out of your problems!”
Without gracing her with a reply, Hermione put down the parchment in front of her.
“An official writ with the Wizengamot stamp” she said, trying to keep the gloating out of her voice. “If the referred case falls into the XVII. F. section 12th point of Magical In-Door Cooperation, a requested cross-department cooperation must comply.”
Black eyes were trailing down the lines she had just quoted from her head.
“If breaching of international borders is suspected.” Black shot her a murderous glance. “Who’s saying your case involved border crossing?”
“I did.”
“I have not received a copy of the files beforehand; I will not lend out a Department Tool to a case I have no knowledge about.”
“You did receive a copy of it, Black.” she hissed. “You just didn’t bother to read it before you officially rejected my request.”
“It’s Madam Black to you” the woman raised herself out of the armchair. “The audacity – “
“Look, this is already costing both of us too much time,” she couldn’t bear this anymore. “You can wait out the 3-day pending time and then comply, or save some annoyance, let me do the scanning and then we both can go our separate ways.”
A few second of tense silence followed.
“I just want to do the most I can.”
“Fine,” Black pressed out the word like it was physically hurting her. “But only in my presence. I will not have your incapability cause damage in my department. And I will have a word with your supervisor.”
Fair enough.
The witch circled the desk and headed straight for the door. Hermione let out an exhale she prayed the other woman didn’t hear. She was seriously considering breaking in and stealing the thing if Black didn’t grant access to her.
Hermione picked up Black’s pace and followed her fast long steps. Black rounded the cubicles and kept walking past them, her subordinates stopping dead in their tracks when they saw the woman.
They crossed the training grounds, at least that’s what Hermione thought it was, seeing a few officers with wands in hand, throwing light jinxes and spells at each other. Once the two of them left the large space, they took a turn into a windowless hallway. She wondered if the woman was deliberately walking too fast so Hermione wouldn’t keep up.
Finally, they arrived at a small, common door. Black touched the tip of her wand to the handle, and Hermione heard the lock turning. Slowly it opened, and the auror stood aside, motioning for Hermione to go in first. A worry shot through the girl that maybe Black will lock her up here to get rid of her.
“I trust you have the evidence with you” Black said, more than asked, then turned around without closing the door. “I’ll be back”
She looked around but there was only a high stone table in the middle of it. Runes were carved into it, similar to the tracer Hound in the Creatures Department. She fished out the see-through bag from her pocket and emptied its content to the stone surface, the weak cold light cast an uncomfortable shadow on the ground.
Finally, answers.
Hearing the clicking of boots, she stepped back from the table. The dark-haired woman pushed a piece of parchment into her hand first.
“You have to sign the log.”
“Shouldn’t I do that after the tracing?” Hermione cocked her head in suspicion.
“We’re already here, there would be no point tricking you like that.” Black rolled her eyes. “But good point for noticing it. You would be harder to trick into a false confession than half of the Ministry.”
Hermione wrote in the item in question, her name, and the date. With that done, Black took the parchment and handed her the wand box in trade. The brunette opened it and delicately picked up the slim wand. it was long and elegant, the complete opposite of the club-like thing resting in her department’s Storage.
True to her word, Black stood in the background, hands crossed and watched her every move from behind her. Hermione tried not to be bothered with the audience, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling of being tested.
She cleared her mind and concentrated on the item laying in front of her.
“Appare vestigium”
The effect was immediate, leaving her no time to worry whether she was mistaken regarding the cloth’s origin or not.
Faint ghostly lines emerged, like a few days ago in her office and enwrapped the cloth. Weirdly, they were coming from the table and then sank into the fabric, like the magic was drinking up the elven trace.
The lines thickened and twisted and moments later a blue crest showed up above the cloth. Since elves had no identity (according to the belief of purebred fools) outside of the house they served, only the symbol of the wizarding family would show up here.
A bird, sitting on a pedestal or on a column.
Hermione memorized the form and moved her hand to finish the spell, when she felt the sudden presence of a body behind her. Annoyed at Black for invading her private space – and her nostrils with her all too present scent, Hermione was ready to tell her off when she raised her head.
In the misty blue light, with eyes wide, Bellatrix Black’s face was a mix of utter shock and bloodlust.