Chapter Text
PART 1
Hermione woke before her alarm.
She lay there in the darkness, trying to force in as much rest as possible, but it was a waste of effort. She was too excited to sleep.
When the clock hit six and finally started to alarm, it only got one ring in before she silenced it. She slipped eagerly out of bed while Ron groaned and rolled over, and Crookshanks resettled himself onto her vacated pillow.
Usually, the amount of effort it took to properly wake Ron might bother her, but today, she couldn't give a toss how late he slept in. Because today was the day. The day she'd dreamed of; her first day as management in the Ministry, the first day of the rest of her career.
She’d selected her outfit days prior, and had carefully laid it out over her bedside cabinet, ready to go. They were her favourite, most expensive set of robes, maroon with golden clasps and a fitting waistcoat with layered overcoat.
She dressed herself quickly, not bothering to be quiet, because when had Ron ever bothered to be quiet for her on her days off? Then, after taming her hair into the neatest bun it was capable of forming, she brushed her teeth and spelled on a light layer of makeup before heading downstairs to collect the morning's Daily Prophet.
Pigwidgeon—bless him—was often more considerate than Ron these days, and it hadn't taken him long since they'd moved into their cottage to figure out Hermione's daily schedule. He'd begun leaving the newspapers out each morning on the kitchen counter, right by the coffee mugs.
That morning's copy was waiting right where she expected it, and once her coffee was made, she picked it up and spelled on the radio to drown out the sound of Ron's snoring, before she sat down to skim that morning's headlines.
No foundations for the reports of rising German tension, reports Paterson...
Huntington resignation: voluntary separation from the Wizengamot?...
Bulgaria takes the cup, fourth year running...
Northern floods: how many muggle homes to be lost before the Ministry step in?
Ugh. Grim as ever.
Hermione folded the paper back up, and deciding she needed a more positive start to her day, polished off her coffee and went to head off early. She was still way ahead of schedule, but she didn't mind. There would surely be plenty to do—there always was at the Ministry—and it was always better to be early.
Taking the Floo directly in from their living room, Hermione eagerly stepped out of the grates onto the polished, hard-wooden floors of the Ministry Atrium.
The Atrium was notoriously crowded at all hours, and that morning was no different. At only seven o’clock, it was already alive.
Crowds of brightly robed witches and wizards were hurrying every which way; owls and memos flew busily overhead, and in the centre of it all, stood the imposing monument dedicated to the lives lost during the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the second war.
With the extra time up her sleeve, Hermione hovered by it and gave it a brief nod of acknowledgement.
Usually, she tried not to give the statue much attention—it tended to instil a deep melancholy when she did—but not today. Now that she'd finally made management, she was finally in a position of influence. At last, she could make a difference, could introduce real change to bring about justice for those that had perished.
She would make them proud.
After taking it in, Hermione passed through to take the lifts downstairs. To get to the Law Enforcement offices, she had to pass through Investigation on the east side of the second floor. It was busier than Magical Creatures, her previous department, and at the sight of how busy it was already, her nerves doubled down.
It wasn't as though she hadn't had her fair share of leadership experience. Only a year ago, she’d had her own team rewriting the legislation introducing fairer working rights for house-elves, but this... there must've been more than fifty staff members in the Investigation offices alone. The entire department—including Investigation, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, the Auror Headquarters, and other sub-branches—had always been the largest of the Ministry, and it'd only grown further in the seven years since Voldemort's disappearance.
It had also become the largest in terms of staff turnover—a fact the Daily Prophet just loved to draw attention to. The most recent target of the newspaper's scrutiny had been the former Head. After having replaced more than half of the staff due to the failure to catch Lord Voldemort, the media's barrage had become relentless, and it wasn't long before he and the previous Deputy Head had both been sacked. They hadn't yet announced who Hermione's new boss was to be, which meant that Harry, as the Head of the Auror Office, and herself, as the new Deputy Head, were to temporarily be the ones in charge.
The thought of leading an entire department was daunting, but as she tried not to think about the sheer number of staff who'd be under her, she reminded herself that she'd faced worse. Leading from the office—the comfortable, spacious Head's office—would be far easier than being on the run with Ron and Harry had been. It'd be a walk in the park compared to hunting horcruxes.
"Good morning, Miss," the office receptionist greeted as she passed by the main desk.
"Good morning, Janice,” Hermione returned brightly.
See? It was fine. The staff were polite, friendly, and she already knew most of them.
"Morning, Weasley."
She gave Penrose a small wave. "Good morning, Euan."
Nothing to be nervous about. She could do this. She was made for this.
Just about at the end of the main hall, she veered into the open door of the Head of Department's office, and—
Oh. Somebody was already there.
It was a man, tall and dark-haired, and he was poking at the bookshelves, arranging the books. As she hesitantly stepped in, he glanced over.
"Ah," he sounded upon seeing her, pointing a finger in her direction as his features lit with excitement. "Ms. Granger, I presume?"
Hermione liked to think she wasn't the shallow sort, but despite herself, the first thing she noticed about him, was... well. She wasn't blind. He looked good. He was broad shouldered, dressed in an expensive-looking, grey cardigan, and seemed about her age, with short, black, swept-back hair. His cheekbones were prominent, and he had dark eyes, dark enough that it was hard to tell where his irises ended and pupils began.
"Um. Well, it— it's actually Weasley now, but yes," Hermione corrected.
"Right, sorry," he said, making his way around the desk, extending a hand toward her. "Ben Jenkins."
She took it. Her hand felt small in his.
"It's an honour to meet you, truly," he said eagerly as he let her go, his eyes not leaving hers. "You can't imagine how happy I was when Kingsley told me we'd be working together."
Hermione blinked. "Good to meet you, too," she said, trying to reciprocate his excitement. "But, ah, sorry— what was it you do again?"
"Oh." He stopped to laugh, and it was silken. "Look at that, getting ahead of myself, aren't I? I've just taken the role of Department Head."
"Oh. Really? That's... wonderful,” she forced out, not entirely honestly, because in truth... it was a bit disappointing.
She'd been hanging onto the hope that Harry would be given the promotion. He was already Head of the Auror Office, and though he hadn't been in the role for long, Voldemort had been the Department's top priority for years. Harry, naturally, would have been an obvious choice.
But this Ben? She... hadn't heard of him.
"I didn't realise the appointment had already been filled," she said, putting an effort into keeping her voice bright. "I thought we'd be without a Department Head for weeks!"
"Sorry to disappoint." He grinned, and it was... nice looking. The sort her father would've gushed about. "Are you all right if I take this desk?" he asked, gesturing to the desk by the bookshelf on the right. It already had a light coverage of personal effects on it.
She glanced between the room's two desks. It was the nicer of the two, and having the one right next to the bookshelf would've been more convenient, but he was already settled, and she supposed this was to be her new boss...
Best to let him have his way and start off on the right foot.
"Of course," she obliged, moving towards the smaller desk on the left. She could always transfigure it bigger. That would be fine. "No problem."
She drew the things she'd brought with her from Magical Creatures out of her bag, expanding them back to their proper size, and drew out her favourite picture of her parents and magically attached it to the wall beside the desk. Next to that, she arranged a photo of herself and Ron, next to one of herself, Harry, and the Weasleys all together. Satisfied, she started unpacking her quills, parchments, and her stash of muggle-made pens.
"We have the interdepartmental meeting at two, up on level one," Ben told her as she arranged her things just how she liked them. "And I'm not sure what you've got planned for your morning, but Kingsley was kind enough to leave these for us." He gestured with a tip of his head toward a sizeable pile of boxes by the office door. Some of the files had overflowed onto the floor. "The Dark Lord's case," he clarified. "File after file of improperly sorted reports, dead ends, and unreliable witness statements."
Hermione eyed it, but not one to be intimidated by proper procedure and paperwork, she said optimistically, "I'm sure there must be something useful in there."
Ben raised a single, neat brow. "Well, when you find it, do let me know."
She looked between him and the boxes. "Are you— sorry. Are you saying you want me to go through them?"
"They're not about to sort themselves."
Oh.
"But, if you're the Head, then don't you think you should—"
He winced, and said, "I'd really rather not."
Hermione sighed lightly, and deciding it was a bit too early in their acquaintanceship for the butting of heads, she gave him a tight smile and said, "okay then. No problem."
"Great," he said sweetly, and then he went back to arranging the books.
She eyed his back, frown deepening as she noticed that he was sorting the books by author rather than by subject.
Well. If his bookkeeping was anything to go by, it was probably better that she go through the files anyway.
Hermione got started by levitating the boxes onto her desk, piling up the ones that wouldn't fit on top of it to the side. Then, she sat down, taking a moment to bask.
There.
She was there, at her desk, in the Head's office, on her first day.
The eleven-year-old inside of her who’d dreamed of the role ever since learning of its existence squealed with delight, but now that she was seated... the boxes before her rather resembled a mountain.
She knew that with management came paperwork. She'd longed to be the one sorting through it for as long as she could remember. But this was...
"Oh, Granger?"
Hermione glanced over at Ben and blinked. "It's Weasley."
"Right. You missed one." Ben tossed another file over to the pile on her desk and flashed her another warm smile before turning back to the books.
Ugh.
With not much else to be done for it, Hermione plucked the first file out of the box in front of her and flicked through it, slouching back into her chair.
It became clear quite quickly as she sifted through the files, that Ben hadn't been wrong. The first file was a sighting report from an elderly witch from Surrey. She'd seen a balding, robed man in the park across from her unit, and thought it worth reporting to the Ministry. 'Just in case', were the woman's own words.
The next file had reports of the scheduled visits to Evan Rosier in Azkaban. Most of the parchments were almost blank; he'd not uttered a single word at any of his visits.
There was an entire box dedicated to the array of cursed items seized from the Lestrange's old manor, a file on an intercepted letter to Witch Weekly that had been signed L.V., and one about a teenage boy who'd been apprehended on Hallowe'en after having been found dressed like a Death Eater.
She soon felt a headache coming on.
Hermione's focus slipped over to Ben's back. He'd started humming as he worked, and while it didn't sound entirely unpleasant, it was a bit distracting. His voice was smooth, level, and the tune had a bit of a familiar edge to it, like it might've been something... muggle.
The Beatles?
Hmm... no. Elvis?
He continued humming and—ah. Yes. Definitely Elvis.
Trying to tune him out, Hermione grunted. At her current rate, it could very well take weeks to sort the files. Although... from her time at the Ministry and from what she'd learned from Harry, she knew that Voldemort had last been traced to Hamburg. No reports of actual sightings had been made for years, the last one being a year after he disappeared not far from Albania, a month after the war. After the Hamburg report, there had been nothing. Not a whisper, not a peep. All the reports from then on had been mere speculation.
Maybe it'd be better to gloss over them and pull out any reports that came from Germany. They were probably few and far between, but maybe she could piece together a charm to detect language and sort them that way...
Plan quickly coming together, Hermione conjured herself a fresh new binder, and got started.
Getting her charm working just the way she wanted it and sorting out the files took her through to the meeting that afternoon. Along with herself, Ben and Kingsley, there were a total of nine in attendance.
There was Lewis Caldwell—Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Alice Dorsey—Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Hermione's previous superior. Iris Paterson—Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation. There was Percy, who'd recently been promoted to the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Hamish Ainsworth—Head of Magical Games and Sports. And then, there was Saul Croaker—Head of the Department of Mysteries.
Kingsley gave them a motivational opening about the fresh start that Law Enforcement was being given by the appointments of herself and Ben. Then Ben had gone on to chat with Saul, while Iris and Hamish spent a good half hour bickering back and forth about the portkey requirements for the next Quidditch Cup and who's department's allowance it was to come out of. Meanwhile, Percy seemed so busy with the paperwork he'd brought up with him, that other than pleasantries, he barely contributed a thing.
Usually, Hermione would’ve deemed such a meeting a waste of time, but in the interest of good politics, kept that thought to herself.
When it wrapped up and there were only a couple hours left in the day, Hermione and Ben separated from the others at the lifts and took one together down to level two.
From the moment she learned that he’d be the new Head, she’d withheld her curiosity, not quite brave enough to ask. But now, after having seen him in the meeting, outgoing, and aloof… he didn’t seem quite as intimidating as he first had, and Hermione finally asked what had steadily been nagging at her.
"Feel free to tell me to stop if it's too nosy of me, but... leading Law Enforcement... it's a prestigious role," she said carefully. "Could I ask... how you managed to get it?"
Ben smiled down at her crookedly. "You don't think I'm up for it?"
She blanched. "No! No, no, that's not what I—"
"Disappointed it wasn't offered to you?"
"Not at all—"
"You'd prefer your friend Potter, then?"
"No, I— don't put words in my mouth," she told him, and he laughed as though he'd been intentionally trying to agitate her. "That’s not what I mean, I just... I don't know anything about you. That’s all."
The elevator chimed, and Ben held the lift for her to exit first.
"We can't all be as famous as you," he said as she passed him, and they started in the direction of their office. "I came through the Stockholm Investigation offices. The call for the position came internally, and the Head over there endorsed me for the role. Our office had identified signatures of a known follower of the Dark Lord, you see, and tracked them down to—"
"Hamburg," she finished for him, nodding as it clicked into place. "Right."
"Of course, the Dark Lord's case remains the Ministry's top priority," he said. "Without that find, I can say with complete certainty that I wouldn't have been considered for the job."
"I see."
"How long have you been here, then?" he went on to ask. "You started fresh out of school, didn’t you?"
She raised a brow at him.
"Please,” he said, grinning. “You and Potter make the front page of the Prophet just about every other week. Everyone knows you."
She supposed that was true.
"It's been... gosh, it must be nearly six years, now that I think about it," she told him. "All downstairs with Alice. But now, I'm excited to finally be— oh. Hello Harry!"
They'd just about run into him as they took the corner that led to their office.
"Just when I was starting to think I wouldn't see you today," Harry said in greeting, lighting up quickly at the sight of her. "How's the first day treating... you..."
"It’s been good, thank you," she said as Harry trailed off, and seeing him staring at Ben, she added, "sorry, have you two met? This is Ben. He'll be the new Head of Department."
"An absolute pleasure, Mr. Potter!" Ben gushed the way everyone seemed to upon meeting Harry, and extended a hand to shake.
Harry, however, didn’t reciprocate. He seemed just about frozen in place, and his smile faded, lines steadily deepening on his forehead.
After a moment passed and it started to become awkward, Ben slowly lowered his hand.
"Erm... Harry?" Hermione laughed nervously. "Are you all right? Harry?"
"What? Oh— ah, yep. I'm fine," he stammered feebly. "Head of Department, you say? That-that's great. Um, Hermione, I— now that I've got you here, would you mind helping me out for a moment? Out in the Auror's office?"
"...Sure," Hermione uttered while Harry retreated back towards his office without waiting. "Um. Excuse us, just for one moment." She gave Ben a quick shrug and hurried off.
Hermione followed after Harry through the interlaced desks of the Investigation office, back through into his office and as they reached his office, Harry swiftly closed the door behind her and lowered the blinds.
"Good Lord, Harry," she said. "Do you know how rude that was? What's the matter?"
Harry didn't reply. He rubbed at his jaw, and then started to pace past the door.
Hermione leaned herself on his desk. "Harry...?"
"That man— Ben, you said his name was?"
Hermione nodded.
"Do you know who he looks like?"
"...no?"
"So, you didn't recognise him? At all?"
"Should I have? Harry—"
"He looks like—" he broke off and massaged his temples, and then, he whispered, "he looks just like Voldemort."
Hermione's eyebrows shot skyward. "I... pardon?”
"He's a spitting image of him!" Harry insisted, glancing back to the door as though worried they’d be heard.
She pursed her lips. "...is James still keeping you up at night? Are you getting enough sleep?"
"No, no, you don't—" Harry huffed. "Not Voldemort, Voldemort, but— Riddle," he said, voice hushed. "He looks just like Riddle did in the memories that Dumbledore showed me in sixth year, you know the ones from back when he was trying to get the locket and cup off that old woman?"
Hermione let out a nervous laugh. "You can't— you're not serious?"
Harry just stared at her. Hermione half hoped he'd say laugh and say, just pulling your leg, or had you going there, but as the moment stretched on, it became plainly clear... he wasn't joking.
She sighed, glancing back toward the door. "Um. Okay..." she said slowly. "That's... quite the accusation."
Harry started to pace again, and he brought a hand to rub at the back of his neck.
"It makes— Merlin, Hermione... think about it. It makes sense! What if—what if that's why no one has heard from him or seen him in so long? Because he doesn't look the way he used to!"
Trying to keep her tone as soft as possible, Hermione said, "Harry... I think you should try to keep in mind that you saw copies of those memories years ago. You've been hunting after Voldemort for years now, and I suppose, fair enough, there may be some resemblance. But it could also be... wishful thinking." Hermione winced, anticipating an argument from Harry. But just continued pacing, and by the way he was murmuring to himself, it was as though he hadn't heard her at all.
"And— and now he's... now it's been long enough, now that it's settled, what if he's decided to try to climb to power again, but through the Ministry himself! Right in front of us!"
"Harry." Hermione hardened her tone. "Look, hypothetically... even if you're onto something and he has altered his appearance—which, in all honesty, I don't think you are—don't you think I would have recognised a glamour? Or Kingsley? It can't possibly be polyjuice, that wouldn't act on age like that. If he had taken unicorn's blood or had somehow made another Philosopher's stone, he'd still look old and evil. The parts of Voldemort’s soul were destroyed, he can't have split it further. There's no way to reverse age, or soul destruction. There's just no way."
Harry paused, and she could see the cogs turning behind his eyes.
There. Good. She knew he'd see sense—
"Well, there must be," he said determinedly. "We just... don't know about it yet. You never saw those memories, did you, so maybe I can ask Ginny, she'd recognise him..."
"Oh, no, don't tell Ginny," she moaned. "If you bring her in and say, 'point out Voldemort', of course she'll think she recognises him, because you would have already put the idea there yourself. If that's what you're going to do, then bring her in and 'accidentally' have her bump into him. She'd be sure to tell you if she had suspicions, and that way it'd be a fair test."
Harry seemed to mull it over, and then he nodded. "Yeah, okay," he agreed. "And I'll have a word with Kingsley."
Hermione rolled her eyes, couldn't help it. "You weren't the only one to have seen Tom Riddle, you know," she said. "It's public information now that he was Voldemort, and with him in the Ministry— don't you think someone else would have noticed a resemblance by now? Especially Kingsley?"
"But he— that was the fifties. Photos are all that're left, so maybe... maybe since it's been so long... maybe no one's put it together yet..."
Hermione sighed again. "I think you should get some rest, Harry. Clear your head," she suggested. "Come back tomorrow with fresh eyes and see what you think. And— I'm sorry to say, but please keep in mind that he's our superior. If you go treating him poorly because of who you think he might look like, then it's going to look bad for us both, and I really can't have Victoria from downstairs carry on with her insistence that I'm the wrong choice for the job."
Harry scoffed. "Well... you'll at least check him out," he asked. "Right? Look into his background and see if it stands?"
"I'm sure if it's been good enough for Kingsley, then it'll be good enough for me."
"But... bloody hell, Hermione, it's perfect. Who would think to look for him in the Ministry department that's looking for him? No one!"
"Harry— you work here," she reminded him in a moan. "Why on earth would Voldemort want to be anywhere near you, of all people? Why would he want to work a Ministry job? It's just r— please. Just think it over, for your own sake. I'll look into him as much as I can if it will make you feel better."
"...Fine," Harry finally said.
Hermione rose from his desk and put a hand on his shoulder. "Voldemort won't stay gone forever, he can't possibly. Don't worry."
Harry begrudgingly nodded. "Yeah, I know."
She gave him a reassuring pat. "I'll make sure to come by to see you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Thanks, Hermione."
She gave him one more pat for good measure and slinked out of his office.
As she weaved her way back through the desks toward her own office, Hermione let out a long, tired sigh.
Bloody hell. Why did Harry have to go and throw this on her on her first day? It wasn't as if she didn't have enough to stress over, now he wanted her to add a background check to the list, too?
Ridiculous.
If there was any resemblance between Ben and Tom Riddle, then it was only a coincidence. Had to be. People often looked like other people. How many times had she been out shopping and thought she'd seen someone she recognised? It happened all the time.
Not to mention, Voldemort was the most wanted man in the entire wizarding world. This was the Ministry.
Ridiculous.
"Bit of an odd fellow, isn't he?" Ben commented as Hermione returned to their office. "And I got you a coffee— just there on your desk."
"Oh,” she sounded, glancing at the steaming mug waiting for her by her paperwork. How… thoughtful. “Thank you. And I'm sorry about that. Harry's just been under a bit of stress lately, I'm sure you can understand," Hermione said, and now he was before her again, she tried to analyse his features as subtly as she could manage.
He nodded, brushing the tip of his quill over his jaw thoughtfully. "With the Dark Lord still out there, and such a high Auror turnover... I can only imagine how stressful a time it must be, being the Boy Who Lived."
Hermione had never seen Lord Voldemort herself— well. She'd seen him from a distance once, all of those years ago, from across the rubble of Hogwarts on the day of the battle. He'd been tall, skeletally thin, and he'd moved confidently, arrogantly, as he'd announced Harry's death to his spectators. He'd had an air about him, one that demanded attention.
But now, looking at Ben...
"...Are you all right, Granger?" Ben asked, his brows drawing together.
Hermione flushed. She'd been staring.
"Yes, yes, fine," she said a little too quickly. "And it's Weasley."
He clicked his tongue. "Right you are."