Chapter Text
Hermione
Dinner with the family that night started off as a celebratory affair. Even Theo, slightly disgruntled that Hermione had broken his nose just hours before, was thrilled to see Hermione back to her usual self.
His excitement was only overshadowed by that of Pansy, who was over the moon to see their treatment working so quickly. She and Molly spent most of the evening subsequently huddled by the fire, taking notes and enthusiastically discussing the next phase of human trials at Rosewood Orphanage. The sister home to Montrose, Rosewood typically housed more of the magically disturbed children, who would benefit most from what the treatments had to offer.
Amidst the backdrop of a glowing fire, riotous laughter, and the remnants of a delicious meal, the only one who seemed to radiate any negative energy was Harry, who appeared suddenly during their post-dinner cocktails, looking wary and apprehensive. He briefly locked eyes with Hermione the minute he stepped through, giving her a quick wink, before he scanned the room for Pansy. The witch’s eyes widened as Harry shook his head almost imperceptibly, a scowl flashing across her features quickly before a more passive, calm mask replaced it.
If anyone else had observed their silent conversation, they gave no indication of it - everyone appeared to be deeply engrossed in the game of exploding snap that Theo and George had been at for hours.
Taking a cue from the room, Hermione allowed her attention to slip back to the group, even playing a few rounds with Theo herself after George tapped out. Whenever she could spare a glance, she allowed her eyes to wander back toward Harry, who had casually grabbed a plate of dinner from Molly and spent the next hour discussing the goings on at the shop with Arthur.
Harry was so unhurried throughout his meal that she eventually stopped feigning interest in the game in front of her, real interest winning out as Theo continuously bested her. She became so absorbed in her desire to topple her opponent, that she was thoroughly startled when Harry gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and beckoned her unsubtly out of the kitchen.
Harry was silent as they climbed the stairs to her room, the only spoken words several quick wards he cast after they closed the door and settled into the chairs surrounding the small table by the window. Worry welled up in her chest as she waited for Harry to begin; it had been years since had seen him look quite so stressed.
“Pansy tells me the treatment is working - she’s thrilled,” he offered with a tense smile.
“Having something to throw herself into these last few months has been a godsend. Makes her feel like she’s able to help somehow…especially these last few weeks.”
Hermione waited, growing impatient with Harry’s slow start in bringing her up to speed.
“I heard you had a hearing today? What for?”
Harry paused briefly, hesitant. “It was a sentencing hearing...for Marcus Flint.”
“Marcus? I thought he was cleared after the war? Fled to America, didn’t he?”
“Yeah," Harry nodded slowly. "He met his wife Amelia while vacationing in France shortly after he finished Hogwarts. After the Triwizard Tournament took place, Amelia…got scared…decided to cash in her American citizenship and head home to Alabama. Since they were newly married and Amelia was about to have their first child, Marcus followed her. His father was furious - he was due to take the Mark the following week.”
Hermione humorlessly motioned for Harry to continue; this was all old gossip, of no use at the moment.
“Anyways, Amelia died last summer - some sort of illness that came on suddenly. Marcus recently returned with all three of their children to his family home here in Britain, which he had already claimed when he returned for his father’s trial years ago.”
“I remember…” Hermione cut in. “He was the first to successfully win a claim…the Ministry…had a hard time dealing with the backlash, didn’t they?”
Harry’s face twisted slightly.
“They did. Marcus’ success was part of the reason they introduced so many successive Decrees...to make it harder to win a claim case for anyone that followed. Flint’s family was steeped in pure-blood ideology, but they weren’t exactly wealthy or part of an ancient family line in the way that so many blood purists are. I think that helped Marcus tremendously in gaining his L2 status, which made his claim process far easier.
“That, and Amelia was American, from a far more powerful family. But…there are many who felt that Marcus was given far too much leniency. He was, after all, intending to take the Mark.”
Hermione shrugged, albeit a little callously. “If he had gone through the status process today, he would have never been given a Level 2. Everyone knows that if Amelia hadn’t been pregnant, he wouldn’t have followed her. Her family would have waged a war themselves if he didn't return to America to father his own child.”
“Be that as it may Hermione, I will remind you that Marcus left nearly as soon as Voldemort began to gain power. He never took the Mark. If we jailed every single person who thought about joining the Death Eaters at one time or another, there would hardly be any one left.”
Failing to summon the mental energy to argue, Hermione conceded to Harry’s point with a frown.
“Many people, however, feel similarly to you in a way. That justice wasn’t rendered, that it hasn’t been rendered, for the children of Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers alike. It’s why the orphanages are so dangerous these days.”
“That is not what I said, Harry,” Hermione hissed, offended. “I would never seek to hold those children accountable for the crimes of their parents…they’re…kids. By the time the second war ended, most of them weren’t any older than you were the night your parents were killed, if they were even alive at all…”
She could feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
“And even if they were older…Theo and Pansy are some of my best friends. For fucks sake, I’m even helping Malfoy. How could you lump me with the…the…”
Hermione struggled with the realization that there was no singular group or identity to direct her ire too.
The people who attacked orphanages and burned down the businesses of the Sacred 28 were dangerous vigilantes, yes, but they weren’t exactly outliers. They were loosely joined in their beliefs by those who spread vicious gossip about the Statused in the Prophet, refused patrons based solely on name, and took joy in doling out excessive punishments on certain people. Together, they all represented an unorganized ideology that was vague, violent, and regressive, yet they had no name, no uniting force, and no clear agenda. They, whoever they were, continued to be seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once.
“...those people?”
After a brief pause, Harry gently continued.
“I am merely pointing out where it begins, Hermione. This world becomes more politically divisive with each passing day. Truthfully, you are either in one camp or the other at this point - the time for passivity and centrist views to win out, has gone. You will need to choose...maybe not today, but someday, perhaps sooner than you realize...we will all need to choose where our loyalties and values lie.”
A heavy silence fell between them, disrupted only by Hermione’s heaving breaths as Harry’s words sunk deeper into her core. In some ways, she knew Harry was right.
The legislation in the last few years had become increasingly aggressive; so much so that it made parts of her own work increasingly regulated and progressively difficult to oversee. While she often stated that the slowdown in her work was due to nearly all magical sites in Britain having been repaired, that statement was a lie. There were plenty of sites in Britain that needed her help, but as the years dragged on after the war, it became systematically more difficult to obtain the permits required to legally work on most of them.
Even her current work on the Manor was bordering on illegal, operating in a legal gray zone. Citing international security concerns after the dragon spectacle in Belarus, Harry had arranged for a set of Untraceable Permits through the Auror Office that allowed Hermione to access the site under the guise of a highly secretive, and completely falsified, ‘Ministry Investigation’.
The shaky foundation of the project was nothing more than the hope that Harry had enough sway at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and with the Minister to keep both of them, and Malfoy, out of Azkaban in the unlikely event their activities were discovered.
When Hermione finally spoke, it was carefully. “What happened to Marcus, Harry?”
“...I am sure you read in the Prophet a few months ago that the Hogwarts governors had passed into the by-laws of the school that only one child from the Sacred 28 would be allowed to enroll?”
“Yes, I recall that. So what? There are other schools for them to send their children to, aren’t there?”
Harry sighed. “We all thought the same thing - if it wasn’t Hogwarts, then there would be somewhere else they could go. But none of us were paying enough attention…these people…they moved quietly and strategically. The day you disappeared, a new Decree was announced - one that banned enrolling British children in international schools, without approval of the proper filing paperwork and some form of an undisclosed payment amount.”
Hermione began to speak, but was cut off.
“A week after you left, another Decree was passed. This one made it a crime, punishable with a sentence in Azkaban, to not enroll your children in magical schooling when they turn 11.
“Tell me, Hermione, what is someone with Sacred 28 lineage supposed to do when they have more than one child, but only one child can attend Hogwarts? What are they supposed to do when the paperwork for international enrollment of their other children is denied, or they cannot afford to pay the fee? What happens when that second child turns 11, and isn’t enrolled in a magical school?”
Hermione paled. “Marcus’ second child turned 11 while I was gone, didn’t they?”
Harry confirmed it by looking down at the table, playing with an invisible spot on its smooth stone surface.
“He – Marcus - was sentenced to life in Azkaban this afternoon for a multitude of crimes including child neglect, several Decree violations, and enabling the truancy of a minor. His youngest child was sent to Montrose, and his oldest remains at Hogwarts until the summer, when he will be sent to one of the state facilities until the start of the next term.”
“What about his middle child Harry? The second one?”
Harry hesitated. It was several minutes before he seemed to gather up enough courage to speak. When he did, his voice was strained with barely concealed emotion.
“I had no idea. I knew of the Decree, of course, but since so many were passed in such quick succession, I just hadn’t had a moment to read the legislation thoroughly. Each time one is passed, there’s always so much paperwork, training, interviews…it’s so much information to process at once. Sometimes, Aurors start arresting people before I even know what they are arresting them for.”
Harry began running his hands through his hair anxiously, making it stick out at odd angles.
“When they brought that child in, I thought maybe he was being brought in to be processed for state placement. I had no idea it was for an interrogation Hermione, I swear.”
As Harry struggled to find his words, the reality of where the cards laid began to dawn on her.
“One of Marcus’ charges was ‘enabling the truancy of a minor’-” she murmured softly “ - so that must mean that under this Decree…”
“...truancy is a crime, and minors can be held accountable - yes. It is in the text…very subtle, but it’s there. If the magical child in question is found to be ‘willfully truant’, it is punishable by a sentence in Azkaban to last no less than the remainder of their schooling years. Will, the second son, confessed to being willfully truant after sixteen hours of interrogation without an advocate present. He is to be sentenced to seven years in Azkaban tomorrow morning.”
Hermione was dumbfounded.
Honestly, until this moment, Hermione had paid little attention to the arrests or sentencing of those who violated the Decrees. On one hand, each one felt like yet another exhausting display of Ministry power while on the other, she rarely saw people charged that she didn’t believe were guilty of something, so she left the issue alone.
Yet she had never imagined the Decrees going so far as to allow the Ministry to prosecute children, much less those who were only babies when the war ended. Gods, prosecuting adults half the time, especially for petty violations, was still seen widely as relatively ludicrous.
While it was true that the Ministry had been ratcheting up the pressure on these families for years, in the back of her mind, Hermione had always assumed that eventually, they would welcome in new, democratically elected leaders. Once the de facto government that was formed in the immediate aftermath of the war had been successfully disbanded, she had always imagined the Post-War Decrees would sort of…disappear, in a similar fashion to how the Educational Decrees Umbridge had passed as High Inquisitor had disappeared when Dumbledore returned to his post as Headmaster.
Harry was right - despite her personal hesitations and reservations on elements of the matter, there was a line she never even realized was being drawn right in front of them, and the Ministry, clearly, had finally crossed it.
“Harry…this…this can’t stand. Right? We have to do something…tell me we are doing something?”
Harry nodded slowly, murmuring quietly. “But we’re being watched. All of us. The Weasley’s, Theo, Pansy, Blaise…Aberforth, McGonagall, even Slughorn. Anyone who is seen as having any affiliation to someone who may oppose the recent turn of events is being surveilled, heavily.”
With a strained voice, Harry continued, finally meeting her gaze directly.
“Hermione, your absence has been noticed and it has raised a lot of questions…it is imperative you show up to the party tomorrow, and that you have a decent cover story.”
As Hermione absorbed his warning, Harry slid a Galleon across the table at her. When she picked it up, she realized that it was not a real Galleon, but one of the replicas she had created in Fifth Year for Dumbledore’s Army. Recalling their early days of rebellion with a fond smile, she had truly forgotten about their existence...despite being a clever piece of magic, they had no reason to continue using them after the war.
That was, apparently, until now. The irony of convening the D.A. once more under the heavy hand of a Decree that had gone just one step too far, was not lost on her. Rubbing the serial numbers on the side of the coin, she took note of the date and time for a meeting occurring the following week, wondering to herself where they planned to meet while under such heavy surveillance.
Anticipating her questions, Harry continued, his voice stronger and fiercer than it had been for the entirety of their conversation thus far.
“As you know, Grimmauld Place was reinforced by the Order after the war, should it ever be needed. Blaise was able to have someone in the Transportation Department disable the Floo, while Pansy and others have closed any loopholes on the wards that would allow someone like the Minister to access it. For all intents and purposes, it is a private residence again, but a highly fortified one.
“With the updated enchantments, we have ensured that one can only access the site if they already know the location and have one of these D.A. coins in their possession. Each coin acts like a personalized key that has been fixed with another layer of protection for the home, where D.A. leadership can disable someone’s coin if we have a security concern. Flitwick helped with that one, of course, since we didn’t have you.”
Cracking a crooked smile, Hermione finally spoke. “Marietta Edgecombe taught us a lot that year, didn’t she?”
“She did," Harry chuckled. “Thank Merlin though, considering how much higher the stakes are this time. We also expanded on your jinx idea from that year. However, considering the stakes - the punishment for betrayal is far more dire than boils.”
“Is it that bad Harry? How concerned should we be?”
“I…don’t actually know. But the minute we married or promised to marry into these families, we lost whatever credit we had with most political allies in Britain - many of whom are determined to do away with the old ways.”
Hermione could feel the unspoken tension radiating off of Harry, the worry, stress, and fear. Not for himself, but for Pansy, and someday, the children he and Pansy had planned to bear.
Harry whispered quietly, “It’s not just me and Pans, G. It’s also Theo and Ginny. Luna and Astoria…it is all of us and those we love. If any of us have more than one child…” Harry swallowed thickly.
Hermione stood up from the table, pocketing the fake Galleon and reaching for Harry’s hand.
“They won’t take your children, Harry. We’ll burn the Ministry to the ground before we allow that to happen.”
Harry took her hand, and squeezed it, hard - before pulling her in for a fierce hug and whispering worriedly in her ear, “I don't think I can do another war, Hermione.”
Hermione responded by hugging him even tighter - knowing in the depths of her soul exactly what he meant.