Hermione scratched at the lightly stinging tattoo on her forearm absently as she spun on her heels and headed back in the direction she had come. Her robes swished around her legs as she increased her pace when the stinging worsened, but she refrained from running. There were too many people around for her to resort to running.

The crowds in front of her parted as they noticed her, and she managed to take the internal floo that spat her out just outside Minister's office. Hoping she didn't look too ruffled as a result of her haste, she approached the double doors that swung open as soon as he got close to it.

"Miss Granger." The Minister's crimson eyes flickered upwards before returning to the parchment before him, his right hand still tracing beautiful calligraphy across the page. "I have some… guests coming in later. Old friends of yours whom, I believe, would like to see you. You are to be present in the Atrium at dusk."

Hermione nodded, bowing slightly as she left. She squashed the hint of annoyance at being summoned over such an insignificant thing—she could just have easily been sent an enchanted note instead of having to race all the way back.

This was the man who had saved her from those experimenters that had cut and healed what felt like every single part of her body, though. The scars from that experience still littered her body; a glamour covered them from the view of everyone who didn't know of them, but she could still feel them. Whatever had come before that, Hermione didn't know, and she didn't care.

The past wasn't about to help her. It was of no use trying to remember something that she couldn't; all that gave her was a painful headache. All Hermione knew about herself was what the Minister had told her. Apparently, being the brightest witch of her age meant that even the Minister would rather save her than let her die as an experiment, and Hermione was glad for that. There was nothing that would be able to shake her support of their Minister.

Although, Hermione wondered what the Minister had meant when he mentioned his guest being her 'old friends.' She didn't have such friends—all the friends she had made were working within the Ministry itself. She hadn't lost contact with any of them.

Perhaps he had learnt something of who she had been before? The more Hermione thought about it, the more it seemed like the most likely possibility. Hermione could feel herself growing excited at the thought. If the Minister thought it was important to know about some of her past now, then she definitely wasn't going to protest! Hogwarts had early records of her attending there, but everything else had been destroyed in the historical fire that had raged at Hogwarts.

The hours crawled by, and Hermione wondered if time had slowed down to make her impatient. The ancient tome she was supposed to be translating lay open, barely a page had been translated all afternoon. Hermione had tried engrossing herself in the spells and enchantments and the memoirs of the 5th century witch, but the more recent history was on her mind at the moment.

"Miss Granger?" Bane's head stuck through the door, following his voice into the room.

Hermione jerked upwards. She had not heard him trotting up the corridor to the archives that was deathly silent even compared to the rest of the hushed Ministry. "Yes?"

"The Minister asked us to come down here and have you strengthen the magic-resistant charms on our bodies."

"Oh, yes, yes. I'll be outside in a moment," Hermione called, her wand sliding out of her holster immediately.

The enchantments themselves weren't difficult—the incantation being only a short phrase and the wand movements only two flicks and a jab—it was getting the enchantment to stick that took time. The centaur's bodies were already fairly magic-resistant even without the extra enchantment, but the enchantment rendered them nearly impervious to all magical attacks. No one but the centaurs themselves knew of the weak spots in the enchantment, but that was for the best.

"Are you happy here, Miss Granger?" Firenze asked, breaking the silence.

"Of course, why do you ask?" Hermione replied absently, running her hand over Bane's flank to check if the new enchantments had settled properly.

"It just seems a bit isolated from the rest of the Ministry. It doesn't look like you get many visitors either. The house elves barely come here once a week," Firenze said, eyeing the cobwebs that were hanging from the ceiling before spotting a spider making its descent.

"I don't mind it. I don't like being disturbed while I'm researching anyway. It's easier to be down here than up there. I mean, have you heard the rumours about the torture chambers that are supposedly down here?" Hermione laughed at the thought. "All right, that's you done, Bane. Come on, Firenze. Your turn."

Bane snorted. "Some of the things you, witches and wizards, come up with are ridiculous. Like the so called 'Great Fire of Hogwarts.' Hogwarts was an enchanted building: no random fire could possibly burn that great castle to the ground."

"I would love to be able to examine the tattered wards," Hermione said with a wistful sigh. "A ward that had stood for hundreds of years and could only be destroyed from the inside. Just trying to recreate a ward like that would be a dream come true."

"I believe you have to be somewhere soon, Miss Granger," Firenze said as he felt the enchantment settle on his body. He shared a look with Bane as Hermione gasped in shock at the time. The itching in her mark began once she realised the time, and she cursed.

Hermione heard Firenze mutter, "Nothing," as she locked her door and ran down the corridor. She couldn't be late when the Minister specifically asked her to be in the Atrium at dusk. She cast the standard refreshing charms on herself as she reached the upper part of the Ministry. Her slightly creased robes ironed themselves out, and her unbound hair returned to its usual braid.

She hadn't been the only one invited, it seemed. Every person whose name had been on the Hogwarts register during any of the years she would have attended were there. She recognised most of them but had never had a conversation with any of them. They didn't look eager to talk to her either, so Hermione had let them be at the Minister's request.

A dozen pops sounded in the Atrium, echoing to make them sound like a larger group than they were. There were only two who weren't in the standard red Auror robes: a black-haired male and a red-headed male.

Hermione looked at the two in confusion. They felt familiar, but she didn't recognise them. She felt like she should have, though. The gasps, and furtive glances in her direction, that filled the Atrium only served to confirm that she was missing something.

"Minister?" Hermione could feel those crimson eyes staring at her, reading her expression carefully. Hermione thought the Minister was pleased with what he saw, but she couldn't really tell for certain.

Green eyes looked up, meeting her own brown eyes, before widening slightly. She could see him mouth her name in shock; whether it was her allegiance or survival that shocked him, Hermione didn't know. A grim expression quickly overcame his features a moment later, and Hermione could feel herself tense.

"Harry Potter," the Minister said, his voice little more than a whisper. "I would like to say that it is a pleasure to see you again, however…"

Hermione couldn't believe that her 'old friends' were the notorious rebels that had given them so many problems over the past few years. Did they not understand how much paperwork she had to fill because of their idiotic actions? She must have had a truly poor taste in friends, and she was glad that she had rectified that. She settled on glaring at the two, even as the feeling of unease grew.

"Voldemort," the boy, Harry Potter, replied without flinching. "I can't say the experience is much more pleasant for me. However, I do believe it is time for me to take back what should have been mine three years ago."

"And what exactly would that be?" The mocking tone in the Minister's voice told Hermione that he wasn't impressed in the slightest, and she almost felt bad for the two boys: they didn't know what they had gotten themselves into.

The pulse of magic that crackled through the stone walls of the Ministry was detrimental to the wards, Hermione knew that much. The idea that someone that looked so young already had that much power astounded her. She would have expected the older-looking boy to have had more magic than the black-haired one.

"Victory," was the last word she heard before the Atrium was thrown into chaos.

Written for

Quidditch League Round 8: Wigtown Wanderers

Chaser 3: What happens to the Ministry after Voldemort takes over?

(creature) centaur; (song) 'Centuries' by Fall Out Boy; (word) allegiance

AN: I am very aware that a lot of what Hermione believes is not canonically correct, but Voldemort wanted her to trust him and telling someone that you were the Dark Lord isn't about to win you any points in the trust category.