(Hermione's POV – Flashback - A day before Arthur's kidnapping)
The parchment, clutched in my trembling hand, felt like a brand, searing its message into my very being. Hogwarts. Immediately. Severus Snape.
My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic rhythm against the backdrop of the bustling Parliament chamber. I'd been reviewing proposed legislation, a mountain of paperwork detailing new regulations for magical creature integration, when the owl arrived, its feathers ruffled, its amber eyes wide with a frantic urgency that mirrored my own.
Without a word to my colleagues, I rushed out of the chamber, the parchment clutched tightly in my hand. I needed to get to Hogwarts. Something was terribly wrong.
The familiar swirl of Apparition deposited me near the edge of Hogsmead, the cool night air a stark contrast to the sterile atmosphere of the Ministry. I hurried towards the castle, my heart heavy with a premonition I couldn't ignore.
Snape was waiting for me in the headmaster's office, his expression grim. Harry, Sirius, Ron, and a handful of other Order members were gathered around the table, their faces pale, their whispers a hushed murmur against the crackling of the flames.
"Mrs Potter," Snape greeted me, his voice a low, strained whisper. "Thank you for coming."
"What's happened? What's wrong?" I asked, my voice tight with anxiety.
"Dumbledore… he's dead."
The words hit me with the force of a physical blow. My breath hitched, my knees almost buckling beneath me. Dumbledore… dead?
"We found him in the Forbidden Forest, earlier this evening," Snape continued, his voice flat, devoid of the usual venom. "There was… no sign of a struggle. But…" He hesitated, his gaze shifting to Harry. "It was… the Killing Curse and his wand the elder wand was gone too"
"No," I breathed, the word a strangled whisper. It couldn't be. Dumbledore…
A wave of grief, sharp and unexpected, washed over me. Dumbledore had been more than just my mentor, my teacher. He'd been a guiding light, a symbol of hope in a world teetering on the brink of darkness. And now…
Harry, his face ashen, his green eyes blazing with a fury that made my heart ache, slammed his fist onto the table. "Van Doren," he growled, his voice a venomous rasp. "That bastard… He did this."
Black nodded, his gray eyes burning with a cold rage that mirrored Harry's. "He had the motive. The power. Dumbledore was a threat to his plans, to his control. It had to be him."
The room erupted in a cacophony of voices, accusations, and grief-fueled rage. McGonagall, her face pale, tried to restore order, but her words were lost in the storm.
I couldn't take it anymore. "Shut up!" I shouted, my voice cracking with a mix of sorrow and a frustration I couldn't contain.
The room fell silent. They all stared at me, their expressions a mix of shock and bewilderment. Harry, his gaze intense, his jaw clenched tight, looked… different. Harder, colder, the youthful defiance replaced by a bitter resentment that made my heart twist. His dismissal from the Auror department, our strained marriage, the distance that had grown between us…
"Enough," I said, my voice regaining its strength, a chilling calmness settling over me that surprised even myself. "We need to think before we act. We don't know who did this."
"Don't know?" Black scoffed. "It's obvious, isn't it?"
"No, it's not," I countered, meeting his gaze with a steadiness I didn't feel. "We need proof. Evidence. Not just… accusations, if you start screaming this without proof Vincent will crush you and he won't even need to use his wand."
I was tired. Tired of the fighting, the secrets, I was tired of fighting Vincent. Vincent… he'd changed everything. Yes, his methods were ruthless, his ambition unsettling. But the world he'd built… it was a better world, wasn't it? No more Voldemort. No more Death Eaters, Magic was out in the open now, Wizards weren't hiding anymore.
Would it be so bad to give up, to admit defeat? He was a bloody emperor all but in name, I'm tired, I missed my kids, Imissed being happy.
"We need to be smart about this," I said, my voice a plea for reason. "Not reckless."
I avoided their gazes, the weight of their judgment, their disappointment, pressing down on me. My loyalty to the Order, to Dumbledore's memory… it felt frayed, like a thread stretched to its breaking point.
And if I was honest with myself… a part of me, a dark, hidden part, understood Vincent. His methods. His ruthlessness. His vision.
They argued for a while longer, but Harry and Sirius grew more agitated with each passing moment. When McGonagall suggested waiting for the Aurors to investigate, they scoffed.
"We'll handle this ourselves," Black snarled.
And then, with a final, dismissive glance, they stormed out of the room, their anger a palpable force.
McGonagall sighed, a weary sound that echoed my own exhaustion. "They'll cool down, Hermione," she said, her voice a gentle reassurance.
I shook my head, my gaze fixed on the empty doorway where they'd vanished.
I didn't think so.
(Hermione's POV - Three months Later)
Three months. Three agonizing months since Harry and Sirius vanished. Three months of whispers, of hushed conversations, of sleepless nights and a gnawing dread that had burrowed deep into my soul.
The news of Dumbledore's death had shattered the wizarding world. Even those who'd disagreed with his policies, who'd resented his power, mourned the loss of a legend.
And me? I was adrift, lost in a sea of grief and guilt. Harry's anger, that cold fury that had consumed him after his dismissal from the Auror department… It had pushed him away from me, from our children, from everything that had once mattered. And I… I was too tired, too broken, to fight for him anymore.
The Order, fractured and leaderless, had searched for them, scoured the country, questioned every contact, every whisper of a lead. But they'd vanished without a trace.
And I knew, deep down, where they'd gone.
That night at Hogwarts, their fury, their reckless accusations… It could only have led them down one path.
They went after Vincent.
The realization hit me sending a wave of nausea through me. I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles white, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
He killed them, didn't he?
The thought, once a whisper of fear, now roared in my head, a monstrous certainty I couldn't escape. Vincent, for all his talk of peace, of a better future, was capable of such brutality. He'd proven it time and time again.
"FUCK!" I roared, the sound echoing through my office, a primal scream of rage and despair.
It was my fault. I should have stopped them that night. I should have seen where their anger was leading them. I should have…
My throat tightened, tears welling up, blurring my vision. The weight of my guilt, the crushing realization of my own powerlessness, was unbearable. How could I explain this to our children? To James? To Lily?
I sank to the floor, my sobs muffled by my hands, the tears streaming down my face. A storm of emotions raged within me – anger at Vincent, at Harry, at Sirius, at myself, at Dumbledore for leaving us all in this mess. How could things have gone so wrong?
I stayed there, huddled on the floor, for what felt like an eternity, the world shrinking to the confines of my office, the weight of my grief crushing me.
A part of me, a small, vengeful part, wanted to confront Vincent, to scream at him, to unleash the fury that burned within me.
But what good would that do? Harry and Sirius had gone after him. They'd made their choice. And they'd paid the price.
And me? What was left for me?
I stumbled to my feet, my legs shaky, my head pounding. I went to the small bathroom attached to my office, splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked… haggard. Defeated.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to regain some semblance of composure. I had to do something. I had to know.
I stepped out of the bathroom, my gaze fixed on the door leading to Vincent's office.
"Is the Chancellor in?" I asked his secretary, my voice a strained whisper.
"Yes, Madam Potter," she replied, her eyes widening slightly. "But he's in a meeting…"
I didn't wait for her to finish. I pushed past her, ignoring the startled gasps, the shouts of protest. The guards stationed outside his office tried to block my path, but I shoved them aside, my fury lending me an unexpected strength.
"Hermione?"
Vincent stood in the doorway of his office, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. He was wearing a dark suit, impeccably tailored, his hair brushed back from his forehead, his blue eyes as sharp and cold as ever.
"We need to talk," I said, my voice a raw, desperate plea. "Now."
Vincent's gaze swept over the startled faces of his guards, a silent dismissal that held an unmistakable edge of authority. He stepped aside, gesturing towards the open door of his office. "Come in, Hermione."
I walked past him, my legs trembling, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The door closed behind us with a soft click, sealing us in a silence that felt as heavy as a tomb. I stood there, my gaze fixed on him, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.
The office was opulent, all polished mahogany and dark leather, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the bustling city below. A stark contrast to the dusty chaos of his old Ministry, a subtle reminder of how much he'd changed, how much power he now wielded.
Vincent broke the silence, his voice a calm, measured rumble that grated on my nerves. "What do you want, Hermione?"
I sank into one of the plush armchairs, my body suddenly drained of all strength. The words tumbled out, raw and blunt, a desperate plea for truth. "Did you kill Dumbledore?"
He looked at me, his blue eyes as sharp and cold as ever. "No."
I searched his face, for a flicker of deception, a tell that would betray his lie. But there was nothing. Just that unsettling calm, a control that both fascinated and terrified me. I'd learned to read him, back when… back when we were…
No. Don't go there. Not now.
I nodded, accepting his answer. My gut, however, twisted with a fresh wave of unease. "What about Harry and Sirius? Did you kill them?"
He hesitated for a beat, a barely perceptible pause that screamed guilt. "No."
This time, I knew he was lying. The way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something dark in his eyes… I'd seen that look before.
But I had no proof. No evidence.
I sighed, the weight of my exhaustion settling over me. "When did it come to this, Vincent?" I asked, my voice a weary murmur. "When did we… when did everything become so… broken?"
I thought back to that train ride to Hogwarts, to that awkward conversation in the compartment, We'd talked about books, about music, about our dreams for the future.
I thought back when we were together back in 2002 when we spent a whole week together, our shared laugh, the times we would look at the stars…maybe if I had told him.
And now…
He said nothing, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the window. I knew he was remembering it too. The years of rivalry, the clashes of ideologies, the choices we'd made, the paths we'd chosen. The secrets we'd shared, the moments of stolen intimacy, the guilt that still lingered like a stain on my soul.
I looked at him, at the man he'd become – powerful, ruthless, the architect of a new world order.
"You won, Vincent," I said, the words a quiet, defeated whisper.
He turned back to me, his eyes widening slightly, surprise flickering across his face. He'd never expected surrender.
"I'm out," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "I'm done with this… with everything. I need to be there for my children. I'm quitting this position. I'm quitting the Order. I'm… tired."
I rose to my feet, a sudden lightness washing over me. The burden I'd been carrying, the loyalty, the fear… It was gone.
"I hope you're happy, Vincent," I said, my voice a quiet but firm declaration. "You won."
And then, without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked out of his office, leaving behind the man who'd reshaped the world and the ghosts of a past we could never escape.