Chapter Text
Monday, June 28th, 10AM
Day One - 144 hours to go.
Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini’s office, Department of Mysteries.
“No way, Harry!” Hermione exploded, slamming her hand down on her desk and scattering a pile of memos haphazardly across the floor. “What on earth are you thinking?! Not a chance in a million. I won’t do it! You can’t ask me to do this. You just can’t…. Seriously, this is insanity, it’s-” Hermione broke off, suddenly feeling too weary to convey exactly what she felt this was. Finally giving up on her incoherent rant, she dropped her head into her hands, stared briefly through her fingers at the array of photographs and cards laid out on her desk, then looked back up at Harry with desperation filled eyes.
Her best friend appeared to be frozen in place. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Hermione exclaimed, abruptly scooting her chair back and huffing at Harry’s pleadingly raised brows. The tenacity burning in his expressive green eyes told her that he more than understood the gravity of his request. In response, she let out another, more prolonged and, much more troubled sigh. Finally, she closed her eyes in defeat, allowed the tension to drop from her shoulders then nodded her head in surrender. “You’re the only person on this entire planet that I would even consider doing this for. You know that, don’t you?”
Harry’s pained expression softened slightly. “Considering that sparks are currently fizzling out of your hair, and I just heard you say ‘fuck’ for about the third time in our entire lives, I’m going to refrain from hugging you right now. In all honesty, I’d rather cross an angry Voldemort than an angry Hermione, but THANK YOU.” Harry took off his glasses to wipe his suspiciously wet looking eyes, let out a quivering sigh, and nodded. “You have no idea how much this means to me, ‘Mione. I know it’s unconventional, but you know how personal this case is, and this approach might just work. You’re the only person Dolohov will even agree to talk to about it.”
“Fine.” Hermione sighed as she met Harry’s eyes much more calmly. “I do know what this means to you.” She stretched her arm across the desk then took Harry’s hand into her own. Lost in thought, she stroked her thumb over his knuckles. His skin was rough and when she turned his hand over and looked, his nails were bitten down to the quick. That, combined with the heavy bags underneath his eyes and his all round general pallor, told her all she needed to know. This case was important enough that it was taking its toll on his physical well being.
Ten minutes later, Hermione watched her office door fall closed behind Harry, then abruptly reopen again. “What in the name of Merlin was that all about?” Blaise asked, pausing in surprise as Hermione stood up, scooted her chair back, spun around in frustration, stamped her foot, then sat heavily back down with her eyes closed and her head in her hands. When she opened them again, feeling only marginally calmer, Blaise passed her a cup of Ministry canteen coffee, gave her an amused smile, then stared down at the array of evidence that was currently littering her desk.
“Because I’ve just agreed to do something that I’m very likely to regret.” She sighed, massaging her temples as she sipped the hot drink. “Thank you. It’s that murder case that’s baffling the D.M.L.E. at the moment,” she admitted, frowning at the macabre photograph in Blaise’s hand. “They want to bring us in on it because there’s been a new development.”
Blaise cocked a perfectly groomed brow as he picked up the following photographs. “I know. I’ve just signed the case secrecy documents with Robards. Sweet Salazar, that’s a lot of blood!”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, taking a sip of her cappuccino. “That was victim number one. She died from the Sectumsempra curse.”
“Poor woman.” Blaise wrinkled his nose as he picked up the next picture. “How many victims are there?”
Hermione sighed. “Four murders have been committed so far. And the fifth victim was identified today. He received a countdown timer card by owl post this morning. Harry’s involving Special Branch now, and he wants me to talk to Antonin bloody Dolohov about the case first thing tomorrow morning.”
Blaise paused with his hand still in mid air. “Oh. In that case, I see why you're so upset. Do they suspect Death Eater activity then?” Blaise asked, looking up to stare at her in surprise. “And why Dolohov? He’s never yet helped anyone, they brought him on board a year ago but he steadfastly refuses to talk to anyone about anything .”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what they suspect, Blaise. The entire D.M.L.E. seem to be running around like headless hippogriffs at the moment. I don’t think the Aurors have a clue. Dolohov has agreed to talk about this particular case. Apparently something about it piqued his interest, but he’s said he’ll talk about it to me, and me only.”
Blaise regarded her for a long moment. He licked his lips and adjusted his frameless glasses on his nose. “I get the same feelings of frustration about the lack of leads on the case from Draco,” he agreed, “but honestly, Harry sending you to talk to Dolohov ? Is that wise? And why will he only talk to you and nobody else? That seems suspicious to me.” Blaise gestured to his chest, and Hermione understood. He was referencing the scar left by the curse that Dolohov had almost murdered her with when she was sixteen years old. “You two have a lot of history, after all.”
Hermione nodded, feeling uncomfortable about the situation herself. “I know, I know, but Harry’s asked me to do it personally. He pleaded with me, in fact. He seems to think Dolohov will tell me things he won’t tell anyone else. Harry’s desperate, Blaise. He’ll take any opportunity he can get to solve this before the next victim’s timer runs out.”
“Why?” Confusion was etched all over Blaise’s handsome face. He squinted at Hermione as he alternated between sipping his coffee and frowning at photographs. “I know they all want to solve this. It’s driving Draco mad too. We all want to solve it, but why is Harry so personally invested?”
Hermione closed her eyes. “Because,” she said, wincing and pinching the bridge of her nose, “all of the victims so far have been either muggle-born or actual muggles who married into the sacred twenty eight. Every victim who received a countdown card died when their card reached zero. They died horribly, and the last victim even died under Auror protection. Two Aurors were guarding her at all times, yet they still found her dead with her throat slit and her guards unconscious in the corner of the room. No one understands what happened.”
Blaise frowned as he lined up the pictures. “The words on these timer cards make a statement of some kind. “What was taken…. Has been reclaimed. The time is coming.... The new master….” What the hell does all this mean?”
“Has arisen,” Hermione finished grimly. “It’s on the newest victim's card, look. These are the previous four victims' timer cards. The newest countdown card shows a timer that currently has 144 hours left on it.”
“Shit,” Blaise said, widening his eyes. “Who was the unlucky recipient?”
Hermione sipped her coffee then rubbed her hands over her tired eyes. “Well, this is why Harry’s so invested. It’s his muggle cousin. They were estranged from each other for most of their lives, but five years ago, they made amends. His name is Dudley Dursley. Once Dudley settled down and stopped being a hideous bully, he actually turned out to be alright. He eventually married a witch called Melody Fawley who is-”
“A member of the sacred twenty eight,” Blaise interjected with a sigh.
“Exactly. Melody is currently pregnant with their second child. Oh Blaise, it’s terrible,” Hermione wailed as the gravity of the situation suddenly took her over. “Harry’s lost enough people in his life. Dudley is the only tentative link he has with his parents because his Aunt is beyond awful. We’ve got to solve this case. Harry can’t lose Dudley as well!”
Blaise’s low whistle said more than words ever could. “I agree. If I were in Harry’s shoes, I’d be involving Special Branch too. There must be a reason he wants you to interview Dolohov, but you’re not going alone. I know most of the ex Death Eaters are out on probation and house arrest now, but fuck me, Hermione, Dolohov lives with Rowle, who’s a convicted murderer in his own right, but Antonin’s on another level. The reason he’s on house arrest in the first place is that Azkaban can’t hold him. I don’t know how the hell he escapes, but he’s as slippery as an eel and dangerous to boot. As your Unspeakable partner, I’ll pull rank over Harry if need-be, but you're not going to visit Dolohov alone.”
Hermione couldn’t summon the energy to object. She had worked with Blaise in the Department of Mysteries for a number of years now, and she both trusted and respected him. If his protective streak sometimes made her feel a little restricted, well, now probably wasn’t the best time to mention that. She was grateful that he cared, and in all honesty, she didn’t like the idea of walking into Rowle and Dolohov’s house alone either. “Fine,” she conceded, “will you come with me, please?”
Blaise nodded. “Yes, but we’re taking Malfoy too. I want someone who can at least match a Death Eater spell for spell if need be.”
“Harry doesn’t think Antonin will talk in front of an Auror,” she protested weakly.
“Make it Lucius then,” Blaise countered stubbornly, “I didn’t specify which Malfoy it needed to be.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not!”
“Then it’s Draco. I’m not walking in there without one of them beside us, Hermione. Not the first time we go anyway.”
“Fine.” Hermione put down her cup and nodded. Blaise’s suspicion was nothing unexpected. it was merely a mark of the distrust the Death Eaters were still viewed with even ten years after the war had ended. Antonin Dolohov and Rodolphus Lestrange were probably the most feared of the Death Eaters still living. Azkaban couldn’t hold either of them, so they were both on strict house arrest, heavily monitored and cuffed to dampen and record their magic. Both she and Blaise could more than hold their own against most dark wizards, and yet, she still felt uncomfortable about visiting Dolohov. As Blaise perched on the edge of her desk to continue looking over the evidence, Hermione started to wonder exactly what they had gotten themselves into.