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How To Train Your Auror	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7512 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
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I feel like I'm gonna explode
Any moment
I'm ready to blow
I can't stand it
I get so worried
I get so low
But if I'm never your hero
I can never let you down
And the sirens go
Oh ah oh ah
Clap if you've got a ticket to the end of the world
"Explode" by Patrick Stump
"So let me get this straight," Dean mumbled miserably as he and Draco levitated rock by crumbled rock to a pile at the other end of the hallway. "You worked for some evil bellend genius named Bastian Cane. Cane convinces you to do his dirty work in exchange for a way to remove your mark. Cane steals up all these wanted criminals and forces you to experiment on them. And you're all fine and well and good with it until your wife became pregnant? And that's when you turn this grand leaf on life and decide that you'll become an Auror to take down Cane. Then you and Hermione get this big ol' idea in your head that you'll solve Ron's 'murder' as well? So you steal files out of Diggle's desk. Did I get all that?"
"You left out the part where I lied to my wife, confessed to her, she divorced me, and I fell unexplainably for Hermione. But yeah. That pretty much sums it up."
"And you're saying that Greg has a part in all this? As Cane's right hand man?"
"He knew I took those files. It was all too easy to get into his desk while he wasn't around."
"So when they arrested you, you really were a thief."
"Don't dwell on the details, Dean." Draco rolled his eyes, moving a pretty nasty looking boulder off to the side.
Dean smiled. "You called me Dean."
"Yeah. So?"
"You always call me by my surname. Just feels… I don't know. Like we're chums or something."
"You did break me out of my holding cell. I'd say that qualifies us as chums, yes."
"Chums with a Malfoy…" Dean shook his head. "This day just keeps getting more and more interesting."
Harry's head ached with a sharp twinge. Dust flew all around his head as he strained to open his eyes. When they opened, they stung, and he realized after a moment that blood was gushing from his forehead and into the grooves where his eyes sat in his skull. He sat up, brushing the blood away, and felt around for his wand. He found it in his pants pocket, removed it, and gripped it tight. "Accio glasses!" His glasses flew in shards and bent frames over to his lap. "Oculus Reparo." Gonna have to thank Hermione again for teaching me that one. He set his fixed glasses back on his nose and took in the sight of the Ministry Auror Office. Half of it was sunk in on one side towards the exit, and the other half was littered with blood and broken debris. Two of his best Aurors, Tyler Thompson and Alison Redsheen, lay lifeless only ten feet away. Harry cursed under his breath, wincing as he tried to move. His leg was severely injured, if not broken. He reached down into his pants pocket again, bringing out his cell phone. Ginny's number was first on speed dial.
"Harry." She answered almost immediately. "Dragon's breath, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Gin."
"It's all over the news. The entire Ministries been attacked!"
"Yeah. I'm aware," He popped off. "Thanks for pointing it out to me. Would have never occurred - hold on a moment. How do you know about it?" He tried to move his left leg and screamed into the receiver as bone poked out of his pant leg. "Fuck…"
"Harry. It's all over the news. I told you."
"There's no way that the press has gotten this to the papers already."
"Not the wizard news. The muggle news. It's on the telly."
Harry's glasses fell down his nose as his eyes grew wide. "The Ministry is on the television?"
"Not just the Ministry, Harry. Diagon. Hogwarts. It's everywhere. All of the wards are down."
"Gin. Call Hermione. See if you can find out anything from her end. Call me back when you reach her."
"Right. Harry, be careful. I love you."
"Love you too." Harry hung up and stowed his phone back in his pocket. He went for his wand again and pointed it at his leg. "Ferula." Bandages sprung up and wrapped around his leg, acting as a splint. "That'll have to do, for now." He grabbed his desk (which had been tossed on its side) and pulled himself upright to stand. Specks of dust flickered in the air. Harry tried to ascertain where the damage had stemmed from, but he guessed it wasn't from this room. This had only been a repercussion of something far worse.
His cell phone rang again, and he struggled to fish it out a second time. It wasn't Ginny calling, but his liaison from the muggle police department in one of the London precincts. "Hello? Officer Tuller?"
"Harry. I ran that cross reference for a match in our database. That tattoo - we got a match."
"You did?" Harry sighed. "Great. That's great! Who is it?"
"I- got- ah- break- up- lo -you there?"
"Wait. Let me see if I can find a better spot." Harry pressed the speaker button and waved his hand around. "Can you hear me?"
"Barely!" Officer Tuller called out on the other end. "Look, I didn't get a name, but I got a description for you. Light *static* hair. Tall. Handsome. *static* eyes. The tattoo artist remembered that he tipped pretty well. Get all that, Potter?"
"No, Tuller. Repeat it again-"
The cell phone light faded away, and the phone died. Harry tossed his head back and growled. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat and coughed as he choked down some dust. He doubled over, and that's when he was sure, as pain surged in his side, that he had broken a rib in the midst of the explosion as well. He winced, clutching his ribs, just as someone came into view, stepping over a pile of rubble. The man had hair as silver as pewter with the same colored scruff around his chin. He wore a black cape that draped just at the top of his ankles, knee high leather boots, and eyes as dark as night. Harry recognized him right away from Malfoy's memories.
"Cane." He gritted his teeth and pointed his wand. "Stupefy!" Blue light shot out of Harry's wand, but rebounded to a nearby wall as Cane waved his hand. Harry cursed silently. "Expelliarmus! Locomotor Mortis! Relashio! Sectumsempra!" Each and every spell bounced off of Cane's hand, hitting nearby desks or already dead bodies. With each spell, Cane took a step closer, until he was face to face with Harry Potter. Harry huffed out tired breaths, baffled.
"Those were all good tries." Cane leaned one knee up on top of a fallen bit of ceiling. "Hello, Harry Potter. I've got big plans for you."
Hermione paced the enormous study, taking in to account every book, every piece of parchment, every scrape or imperfection in the bookshelf to put together a story in her head of where exactly she was, and how exactly she could remove this spell. Every once in awhile, she would glance back at Astoria, who was attempting to feed Scorpius a bottle. Scorpius wasn't having it, too entranced by all of the colors of the books on the shelves to care much for his lunch. Hermione's stomach growled. Lunch. Yes, she had forgotten about that. She'd need her strength if she were going to fight off Diggle.
"What are you looking for, exactly?" Astoria asked, glancing around the room.
"A way to escape."
"Diggle told you to stay put. Doesn't that mean that you have to."
"For now." Hermione stopped at a long, oak desk with a cherry finish. The desk itself was perfectly clean, aside from a scribbled note on some post-it note. 'Saturday. Ten. What does she see in him?' Hermione plucked the post-it from the desk and squinted. This was written in pencil, and most certainly Diggle's handwriting. Her body grew cold when she realized the significance of the date and time. Saturday. Her date with Diggle. But ten. 10 pm was when she had met Draco at his Manor for their own date. 10 pm was when Draco had kissed her. She crumpled the note and threw it clear across the room. "That man is a creep!"
"Yes, I think we've all gathered that much," Astoria lulled.
Hermione set to work rummaging through the different drawers. It took her a few unlocking spells to open them, but when she did she pulled them all out at once. "You could help, you know."
"I'm afraid to come anywhere near you, honestly," Astoria replied. "If you accidentally thought I was trying to escape you would try to kill me. I really don't want to risk it."
"Whatever." Hermione rolled her eyes. She started on the shallow drawer first. Nothing in this one but some quills, ink, and pencils. The next one held a letter opener (she tucked it in her pocket to use as a weapon later) and a wax seal stamp. She removed it from its sheath and turned it over to look at the indentions. When she did, she gasped. "Two wands, crossed in the shape of an X." She held it up and showed Astoria. "Wasn't this stamped in wax on that death threat you received?"
Astoria rose from her seat, Scorpius in tow, and approached carefully. When she was close enough to see, her eyes widened and she nodded. "Yes. That's the one."
"So Cane didn't send the letter to you. Diggle did."
"Unless we're not in Diggle's study. What if we're in Cane's?"
That thought had crossed Hermione's mind. But the way Diggle looked at the house when they first arrived. He knew it well. He was careful with it. Nothing had been touched in the living room. Not a single item. Someone who had stepped into a place they hardly knew would surely have taken a look around, which begged the question: why was this home so important to Diggle as to leave everything in its place? And where did Cane fit into all of it?
She glanced up to the rows of books set in a wall shelf behind the desk. A thin layer of dust had accumulated along the rows and rows of books. Then that got her mind to thinking. She started to search each and every bookshelf, looking for any trace of a book moved recently. She found it two minutes later on shelf just above her head at the far right of the room. It was old, and appeared to be bound in some kind of hide. She reached up to touch it, and a strange sensation tickled her bones. She frowned, drawing back momentarily. "This book here. It's filled with magic."
"And?" Astoria asked.
"And… I'm not sure." Hermione reached for it, and again the same sensation jolted through her body. It was as if the magic in her body was reacting to the book. "Could this be…?" She took the chance and plucked it off, and a burst of images fluttered through her mind like birds in flight.
There was a dark tower.
A knife.
A dragon.
An infant.
Screams.
A man with two faces that shifted back and forth at an alarming rate until it was merely a blur.
Death. Destruction. Fire.
Hermione dropped the book, and the images ceased instantly. It dropped to the floor and fell open on a random page. She inhaled deeply and backed away a few paces. "This is it."
"What is it?"
"This. This is the book." She scanned her eyes over the ancient runes set into the pages as if they were burned there. "This is the Gray Magic."
"The what?"
"It's what Cane uses. Draco said it was this forgotten magic from another time. I've only heard legends but…" She reached for the book, and the book hummed back at her with a numbing vibration. She retracted her hand quickly. "This is what Diggle has used on me to control me. If I can just find a way to read it, I might be able to counteract the magic or at least control it myself." She pulled out her wand, thinking back to Diggle's commands. Don't leave. Don't contact anyone. You are to wait here until I return. He said nothing about using magic. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the book. "Astoria, if I start to act funny, throw something at me. I don't know how to control the magic in this book. Don't let it consume me."
"You mean I have an excuse to throw things at my ex-husband's play thing?" Astoria smirked. "There's a silver lining to everything."
"That's the last one," Dean said as they moved the last thick bit of rubble out into the back of the cellblock. They had uncovered the body of the guard about ten minutes ago, but it had been too late to save him. Draco was relieved that he was out of his shackles, but he felt practically naked without his wand. He had a good bit of wandless magic up his sleeve, but that didn't mean he felt confident enough to take on whatever was going on upstairs with just that. He'd have to try to nab a wand while he was up there.
"Shall we?" he said to Dean, putting on his prideful smirk to hide the fact that he was scared shitless. Dean led the way, and Draco followed closely behind. They took up the stone staircase and made it to the elevator.
"Do you think it still works?" Dean asked.
Draco pushed the elevator button. The sound of grinding and pulling could be heard from behind the doors, but considering the elevators were moved by magic and not pulleys, Draco couldn't help the sickening feeling in his stomach as the elevator door opened. They both stepped inside, and the caged doors closed. Slowly, the elevator pulled to the left and began its ascent.
"What do you think we're gonna find?"
"Death." Draco said quietly. "Lots and lots of death."
The elevator jerked harshly but kept moving. The further up they went the more Draco was anxious to get out of it before it somehow exploded. But the elevator stopped abruptly, opened its doors, and Draco's fears to die destitute in an elevator with Dean Thomas were alleviated. They stepped out into a lonesome Ministry hallway on the ground floor. The magical lamps that hung from the ceiling were still swaying, which instantly caught Draco's attention. He pushed his arm out and blocked Dean from taking a step further.
"It's a trap," he whispered, and searched around for something to test his theory. He broke off a button from his shirt and tossed it into the hallway. The button bounced twice before it rolled down towards the other end of the hallway. Dean looked as if he were about to point out that nothing happened when glowing red eyes suddenly opened in front of the door opposite of them.
"What. Is. That?" Dean stumbled backwards, bumping into Draco.
"That is a Hell-Hound," Draco replied. "Don't move."
"Why can't I move? Shouldn't I be running away from the invisible thing that looks like it wants to kill me?"
"If you make any sudden movements, it will attack."
"I thought they were just a myth."
"That's Cane's specialty - finding things that supposedly don't exist and giving them a purpose."
"Shite." Dean rubbed his eyes like he was trying to see if they were playing tricks on his brain. "What do we do?"
"I'm not sure."
"You're not sure? You're not sure! Oh, that's just great. You're not sure."
The end of the hallway growled viciously and sounded as if it had bared its teeth as they gnashed together. "Are you any good with shield spells?"
"I saved your life just an hour ago. Suffice it to say, yeah, I'm fair at them."
"Good. On three, build us the best damn shield you can. We're going up and over."
"Up and what?"
"Three."
Dean hastily cast a protego duo charm around them both as Draco grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him into a dead run. The red eyes lit up, and Dean screamed as Draco shouted, "Jump!" Together, they vaulted over the invisible space, the spell skittering across the back of the large animal with Dean and Draco in tow. Draco turned around quickly as his feet landed and pushed his hand out. "Repello Inimicum!" A wave of shimmering bluish white light burst from his fingertips and trapped the Hell-Hound behind it. Thomas had already made it to the door and shoved it open. Draco nearly fell on top of Dean as they stumbled into a dark room. Draco kicked the door shut just as Dean threw up a new barrier charm to the rectangular sanctuary separating them from the Hell-beast.
"Wooh!" Dean shot his fist up into the air and cheered. "Hell yeah!" He nudged Draco in the shoulder. "Get it? Hell yeah?"
"We need to keep moving." Draco patted around in his pockets by instinct for his wand, and when he remembered that he didn't have it, his throat felt like it had bottomed out. He struggled just to find his legs (they were numb and jelly-like).
"Lumos." Dean pointed the tip of his wand out and pushed the glowing light towards the room. Crumbled piles of desks, ash and dried blood scattered everywhere they could see. "Lumos Maxima." The light grew brighter, and they could see that they were standing in copy-making office not too far from the exits.
"Shit…" Draco ran his fingers through his hair. He had a feeling he already knew what was on the other end of the door out of here. "Aeris." He scrambled over the piles of rubble, uncaring if his hands were getting cut up in the process, and slid down a thick bit of drywall. He could hear Dean's failed attempts to keep up, but he was already so determined that he forgot all about waiting. He shimmied over a bit of foundation railing that stuck out at a horizontal angle and found the knob to the door. He turned it, jerked it open, and scrambled across the threshold to the Entrance Hall.
What he found surprised him. He thought for sure the Entrance Hall would be broken like the rest of what Ministry he had come across, but what he saw instead was much more horrifying. In front of each and every floo sat a mini version of a Pandora Box, and next to each box was one Ministry official with their hand hovering over the top. Their eyes were glazed over in a milky sheen, and their mouths were slack. Draco searched and found his favorite elderly witch that always looked the other way for him towards the middle floos. Her hands shook as the magic drained from her body, and her half-moon spectacles were dangling off the tip of her nose. "Not Aeris," he growled.
"Malfoy," Dean nudged him in the shoulder and pointed towards the very center of the room. Harry Potter, looking broken, bloody, and angry, stood in the middle of the hall in front of a muggle cine-camera that set off its own bit of electrical static every few seconds. Potter's hand clutched his wand at his side, but he did not use it. He was speaking into the camera.
"-those who know me as Harry Potter, the boy who lived." The muscles in his throat tensed like he was trying to fight the words from coming. "But the rest of the world doesn't know me. That's about to change." Potter's green eyes glared forward. "For too long, the muggles of this world have been kept in the dark about the people like me. But…" He gulped heavily. "But we have a leader to bring us out of the darkness and into the light. He will bring prosperity and peace between the mug-muggle world and the magical world. All wizards are ordered to lay down your arms." Harry blinked and crouched down to set his wand at his feet. "And rise up to a new world order."
"Fuck." Draco grabbed Dean and pulled them behind the receptionists' desk.
"What's Harry thinking?" Dean whispered.
"He's not." Draco shook his head. "Cane's speaking for him."
"I urge the Minister of Magic to come out of his hiding and turn himself in to the new ruler." Potter's hands balled into fists. "For every hour that you do not concede, Minister… one bomb will be set off here, and one in a city a city around the world. One hour, Minister, to bring yourself to justice. -Ginny I love you-!"
The camera's electrical lightning ceased, and Potter fell forward, as if released by a very powerful spell that helped him to stand. He fell onto his bandaged leg and screamed in pain.
Slow, amused claps echoed in the hall. Draco peeked over the edge, looking for the owner of those heinous claps; there, stepping out from behind a pillar, stood Gregory Diggle. "Beautiful, Harry. I'm simply in amazement. That was probably the best performance I've ever seen you do. And I've seen quite a bit watching you these last nine years."
Potter reached for his injured leg, where crimson pulled in the center of his bandages. "The Minister won't concede to these demands. You can tell Cane that."
"What will he do?" Diggle laughed. "His wards are down. The entire muggle population is going to witness the realization that magic exists. What power will he hold then? Will he let his brethren be slaughtered? I don't think so." Diggle glanced down at his perfectly manicured finger nails, and then perked his head up towards the table. "Auror Malfoy. Do come out of hiding, would you? I tire of cat and mouse games. You're the mouse in this analogy." Fuck.
'Stay here.' Draco mouthed to Dean. 'Get help.'
Draco stood and revealed himself. "Funny enough, Diggle, I always thought it was that cat who hid in the brush before he pounced." He strolled leisurely from behind the counter and feigned an uninterested yawn. "But far be it for me to correct such an outstanding citizen such as yourself."
"That's Auror Diggle to you."
"Yeah, hate to break it to you, but when you throw all of your eggs into an insane man's basket, the title of Auror really doesn't apply anymore."
"You're one to talk, thief." Diggle brandished his wand at Draco's chest.
Draco backed up a few paces. "Where's Hermione?"
"Would you look at that? The whole world falls apart, and you want to know where your darling Hermione is. Priorities, Malfoy. Priorities."
"Where is she?"
"She's safe. Tucked neatly out of harm's way. I told you, I wouldn't let anything happen to her."
"Is that why you climbed the Cane gravy wagon? It all makes sense, now. Having her spy for you, forcing her to report back so you can give any and all information back to Cane. That's why you covered up Weasley's murder. Cane takes out your competition, and you're now all gung-ho to what - destroy the entire Ministry?"
Diggle smirked. "To reshape it."
"And what will you do? Surely you don't think you're going to rule with Cane? He'll use you until you're no longer useful and then destroy you."
Gregory Diggle's green eyes gleamed with amusement. "Haven't quite figured it out, have you?"
"Figured out what?"
"Draco… I'm hurt."
"M-Malfoy," Potter said off to the side, catching Draco's attention. "The tattoo. Diggle's got-"
Diggle extended his hand, and the same black smoke that had hit Astoria now hit Potter, who fell to a heap on the floor. Again, the smoke crumpled instantly on the ground in a pile of white.
The sleeping powder.
Draco's entire body froze. He managed to pry his eyes back to Diggle's, who grinned maniacally.
"Oh. This?" He reached up to his collar and tugged it down. Four diagonal lines slashed just above his collarbone in the shape of a slanted triangle.
Draco's heart slammed wildly in his chest. Piece after pieces of the last three months came crashing together to form a picture.
Diggle's burning hate for Draco and the love of the muggle community.
Diggle's obsession with hiding Cane's involvement with Weasley's death.
How Cane had managed to appear in the trial.
Why no one was ever able to ascertain an ID for a ghost like Bastian Cane.
Because there was no Bastian Cane. Only Gregory Diggle.
"You're a metamorphmagus."
Diggle's soft green eyes darkened until they gleamed a most frightening black. "And bingo was his name-o."
*Bows head* BOOM.
~A.
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How To Train Your Auror