Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Parallel Dilemma	By : MJurjevic Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 8115 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter fandom, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Nine: Confirmations       by nagandsev
Summary: Hermione researches further the Dark methods of Herpo the Foul. Flint confirms everything she and Sirius surmised about him during their intense time alone, leading Hermione to begin to lose control.
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Hermione felt an electrical current from within spark all the way through her.
"Senior Undersecretary Malfoy?" she repeated, staring at Kingsley and then to Sirius.
Shacklebolt gave her an odd look as Sirius’ eyes grew wide in realization that this was something new and shocking to her, and he loudly commented, "And how is old Lucius? Which new commission is he proposing today?"
"Oh, you know. Same old same old." Kingsley gave a tired sigh. "Nothing new up his sleeve. Always the same. He wants a registration for this and for that, to register various types of wizards—but we have more urgent matters to discuss, Sirius. Shall we?" The Minister nodded towards the Head Auror’s office, and Sirius gave Hermione a look.
She implored him silently with her eyes that she wanted to speak with him further as soon as possible. He started to respond but turned his head, distracted by another figure approaching.
"Minister," saluted Marcus Flint breathlessly, his chest heaving with exertion and sweat beading his forehead and upper lip. "Good afternoon, sir."
Kingsley's eyebrows raised in mute question at the man's sudden appearance.
"Forgive my intrusion, sir," Flint was holding himself ramrod straight, the epitome of a dutiful Auror. "But I need to report to Auror Granger that the book she had asked for has been located."
Hermione felt a peculiar rushing in her ears. The book? The book…
Her heart pounded. Home, she thought.
Kingsley's brow furrowed. "Book? What–?"
"Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia!" she gasped hurriedly, ignoring the strange, twisted expression on Sirius' face as she reeled off the title.
Flint smirked and nodded. "The very same," he confirmed. "Parkinson is waiting to show it to you in the Restricted Section, if you would care to accompany me?"
Hermione clutched Sirius' arm.
Sirius gave her a grim, subtle nod, which even though Hermione took it as an affirmative, she couldn’t shake off a feeling of sudden uneasiness and looked at Sirius and then to Shacklebolt, asking, "Minister, if it’s all right? Head Auror Black will come with us?"
Before Shacklebolt cold answer, Sirius replied, "I have this meeting with the Undersecretary and Minister—but Harry can go in my stead? And then join us afterwards."
Even as Hermione’s forehead furrowed, wondering about Sirius’ reply, she heard Flint irritably snarl, "Potter!"
Harry had arrived and was blocking Flint’s path.
"Ah, good," boomed Shacklebolt’s voice. "Harry can go with you, and when you three return, come directly to Black’s office."
"Sir?" asked Flint, as if he didn’t hear correctly. "Me, as well?"
"Yes, Marcus. You, as well. The Undersecretary will be joining us. Didn’t he inform you?"
Marcus hedged, "Er, I think he mentioned some sort of meeting, sir. I didn’t realize it was now—today."
During their exchange, Hermione couldn’t help look at Sirius. You’re not going with me?
He held her gaze, his jaw muscles clenching; his stormy grey eyes flashed at her with an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on, unreadable.
Sirius diverted his eyes from her, curtly ordering Flint, "Well, get to it then and back as quickly as you can. Wouldn’t want to keep Malfoy or the Minister waiting, would we?"
Flint huffed, threw a resentful look at Sirius and turned sharply away only to come to an abrupt halt.
Harry stood again in his way. "Hermione?" offered Harry, motioning the way to the lifts.
Hermione felt the energy of everyone, crisp and electrical. Sirius, Harry, Flint—they’re all on edge, as am I! As they walked away and entered the lift, her mind raced, trying to puzzle out what Sirius and Kingsley were up to.
As the lift carried them down to the lower levels, she tried to calm herself, thinking, Undersecretary Malfoy? How was I to know that I needed to know about Undersecretary Malfoy?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry incongruously engaging Marcus in conversation.
"Missed some action the other night, Flint, at Borgin and Burkes."
Marcus grunted, affecting disinterest. He slouched against the lift’s wall.
Harry pressed, "We could have used you around."
"How so, Potter?"
"Some nasty business was going down. An excellent Hit Wizard like would have come in handy. But you weren’t on duty."
"Even Hit wizards have to sleep, Potter, as you well know." He sneered, adding, "Yeah, I heard old Borgin was knocked off, burgled or something. What was nicked?"
Hermione and Harry’s eyes met. Only Order members would know anything about this… and of course, the murderous intruders…

Harry kept cool. "We’ll never know. Seems like the culprits stole some things, burned some things in the process, wished to get rid of some kind of evidence—"

"Connected with a Dark artifacts shop? Incriminating evidence? You jest, Potter," jeered Flint sarcastically. "You’ll make Head Auror in no time."

Harry laughed, his eyes flashing. "You think, Flint? Gotta’ get rid of Black first though, right?"

The lift halted, and Marcus gave a sardonic look to Harry as he jerked the caged doors open. "Our stop."

Oh my God, was it him? He stole from and murdered Borgin? But why? He tried to murder me? But if it was him—but no, Sirius said Flint would need to keep me alive… a living conduit?
The air was thick with tension, heavier than ever before to Hermione, suffocating, on the eighth level. Showing his drawn wand, Harry gave her a reassuring look as Flint impatiently took the lead several steps ahead of them heading hurriedly to the Restricted Section.
Hermione spoke in a low voice. "Harry, what are you trying to do? Why provoke Flint when we can’t prove anything yet—"
"Can’t we? I think we just got a confession, don’t you?"
"Not quite. We can’t yet connect him directly to the break in and related murder of Borgin, but—" She stopped herself, unsure of how much more Harry knew about Flint in relation to her and Sirius. ‘If anything happens to me, confide in Harry. He'll help you. Help you in any way he can to get you back to where you wish, where you truly belong.’ What all has Sirius told Harry? She blinked, remembering Borgin and Burkes. But there were two intruders!
Hermione whipped out her wand and silently cast a Muffliato around them. "Harry, listen to me. I don’t know what all Sirius has or hasn’t told you related to Flint, but we’re going on speculations, strong ones but still without concrete evidence. Just do what I say." She softened her bossy nature, adding, "Go along with me, trust me, Harry, please? It’s vital to everything we’ve been working on."
Frowning, Harry pushed his spectacles back but shook his head in agreement. "Alright, Hermione."
She silently dispelled the charm as they reached the Restricted Section’s entrance alcove.
Pansy Parkinson awaited them, arching an eyebrow high as she registered Harry accompanying Hermione. Her heavily painted face forced a tense smile as she informed, "The book, Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia, was located, Granger. It’s set out for you, ready and waiting."
Hermione tried not to stare at Pansy’s pendant glittering on her cleavage. It seems alive with energy within… Is it a possessed amulet? A Horcrux? A container of Dark energy? A conduit? She tried to suppress a shudder and keep her heightened nerves at bay. "You—you remembered."
"I remember everything, Granger. Don’t you?" Pansy gave a slow look to Harry and then back to Hermione, adding, "A blessing or a curse?"
"Pardon?"
"Memory." Pansy touched her pendent and grimaced slightly. "To remember everything… Even the unbearable and more…" A flicker of a soft emotion fluttered across her face. "Emotions. The emotions are what are too—"
Hermione stared at Pansy; something seemed off. Parkinson’s usual hard-nosed sharpness was dulled. There was a softness to her edges she had never witnessed before.
"That’s enough, Pansy. We’ve got an urgent meeting to hop to." Flint cocked his head at her as if to remind her of something.
Parkinson flinched momentarily but continued, annoyed, "How it feels to be… Where is Black?"
"With the Minister." Marcus snapped, "Granger, shall we?" He brusquely motioned toward the inner chamber’s entrance.
"I’ll go in with Hermione, Flint," stated Harry abruptly, apparently forgetting his agreement with Hermione.
"Why, Potter? That’s my duty, isn’t it, Granger?" Flint was giving her an odd look. "You might need me for my special talents. Remember?"
There was a strained silence. Hermione looked between the two men. Harry's jaw was set, and she could feel his magic, aggressive and protective, thrum through his body. Opposite him, Flint's tense body language mirrored Harry's, his lips drawn back in a smile that revealed his teeth. At this rate we won't find anything out about Flint's involvement in the attack on Borgin and Burke's! I've got to get Flint on his own and see if he'll give anything away, the arrogant idiot.

Hermione affected a bright smile towards Harry, putting her hand on his forearm to attract his attention. "It’s all right, Harry. Flint always goes with me. It’s our routine," she said, digging her fingers warningly into her friend's arm.

Harry's eyes met hers and she felt his mind brush hers. She felt his worry and concern, but she shook her head fractionally, and saw the flash of his understanding.

He relaxed slightly and stepped back. "Okay, Hermione," he said. "I'm sure that Pansy and I have got lots to catch up on while you two check out the books." He grinned at Parkinson, who grimaced slightly at Harry's words, but nodded her agreement.

"I'll be right here when you get back," Harry added unnecessarily.

Flint snorted under his breath, but Hermione felt bolstered by Harry's support and trust as she always did. She took a deep breath. Right, come on! she told herself firmly. Time to get some answers.

Plastering what she hoped was a convincingly confident smile on her face, she gestured before her to Flint. "Lead on, Auror Flint," she challenged him in a voice that was steady and true.

Marcus' look was calculating, but he quickly smiled in response and bowed. "Ladies first," he countered.

She faltered for a moment, but, remembering her task, she gave a tight nod of acknowledgement and headed towards the passageway to the inner chamber, the intimidating figure of Herpo the Foul looking down upon them.

She passed in front of the dark stone slab, going right and deeper into the space, pushing the door open and entering the inner chamber.
Lit sconces threw light on the table and two chairs. Hermione saw that an ancient tome was already placed; parchments to take notes upon and special quills were ready and waiting for her.
The strange muffled whispers softly soughing in the tomb-like circular room immediately caused her to feel tranquil yet on extra alert. She shook her head to focus. "Right. Let’s get to it."
As she sat down in front of the book, her eyes gazed over it, and she broke out in goose pimples. Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia.
It was centuries old. The edges of the thick leather cover were well worn. The smell… Hermione’s nose scrunched in reaction to its foul odor. She took in the varying splotches and shades of dark stains and discoloration on its grimy surface. But there was something that caught her attention. Its upper edge…The book looks as if it is… charred—the blacker, smudgy mark seems recent.
Flint watched her carefully, slouching against the wall, not sitting. He began to chew a nail.
"Should you," asked Hermione, hesitating, "should you check it to remove any Dark charm? To remove Dark energy?"
His eyes flashed as he quietly informed her, "The Dark energy has already been removed from it." He seemed to unconsciously touch his chest as he glanced at the floor. A small protrusion, forming a small lump, could be seen in the middle under his turtleneck pullover, like a locket being worn underneath. Marcus' eyes snapped to hers as he said, "It’s alright, Granger—it’s safe. You can touch it. Research to your heart’s content."
Remembering what Sirius had pointed out, she reposted without thinking, "The Dark energy was channeled somewhere." She stared at the object hidden under his shirt.
"What?" snapped Flint.
"Transference of dark energy from a dark object goes from one source into another."
Marcus blinked, looking at her queerly, and rubbed at his chest, as if something was itching, irritating the skin.
Hermione took a second take as she contemplated the lump underneath his shirt’s cloth, only to gasp softly as she also registered that his hand rubbing the object hidden from sight was maimed. Flint’s hand is scarred. From a fresh wound, the skin drawn tight as if… from a fire… wounded from a burn…

"What are you staring at, Granger?"

Hermione looked up at him, the kind of brutality he exuded when he wished to intimidate was oozing forth, full force. Hermione felt a wave of dizziness as she felt déjà vu.

Marcus and I… but not here… there! My universe… and this Marcus—he’s the same. He is my Marcus!

The room was spinning and she closed her eyes, saying, "Nothing, Flint. Nothing."

She took a moment, and opening her eyes, she suggested, "Why don’t you take Magicke Moste Evile—"
He Summoned it as quickly as she said it.
She blinked, watching him sit down carefully, and realized that Marcus’ favoured more than just his right hand and arm; in fact, he moved noticeably stiffer as if in discomfit. "Like before, could you make notes for possessed amulets, Portkeys, Time-Turners—anything that could be used to propel a wizard through time and space."
He smirked but didn’t comment, and she was relieved that he sat and took a quill and parchment, even if it was to humour her, as he was scowling at the pages as they fluttered open with a wave of his hand.

She opened the book. Slowly turning the pages at first only to start skimming through them, she let out an ‘Oh!’ of surprise seeing the section’s title, Herpo the Great’s Revelations…

It’s like a medieval visual guide and outline for exsanguination techniques… She shuddered as she read, ‘For the purposes of capturing and containing the life force of a living beings essence’. She took a deep breath as she forced herself to study in detail the graphic drawings and depictions of dissected parts of animal bodies… And humans!

Finding a detailed section about ‘curses most vile, though a necessity for magical survival’, she started to skim and scan, jotting down notes and paraphrasing sections with details.

She glanced up at Flint. He wasn’t making notes but seemed mesmerized by something he was reading. At least it’s keeping him busy!

She furtively went back to her tome, searching for key words and phrases and stopped as she read, ‘Pushing magic beyond known boundaries and through torturous sacrifice, Herpo the Great invented such methods and processes for sojourning the constellations.'

Here we go… She checked the parchment, her eyes flickering over the notes she had been making. ‘From exsanguination, contain and storage the blood and life force within the inanimate object… Combined with the life force of the chosen sacrificed life source, one may experience transference to the calculated coordinates chosen…’

She rubbed her forehead in consternation. Like a celestial Portkey, sojourning the constellations, life force forcibly taken, contained within say… an inanimate object, an amulet, she gave the lump under Flint’s shirt a glance and her chest tightened, but the living conduit—a witch or wizard—bewitched by what means? She let out an audible sound of disgust at the potential possibilities based on Herpo the Foul’s inventions through torturous sacrifice.
"Everything all right, Granger? Found what you were looking for?" asked Flint softly.

She didn’t look up, answering, "I’m fine, and yes, I think I have found something useful."

She continued taking notes on the parchment, ‘Desanguination… and through exsanguination…The process of blood loss must occur while chanting the following Accio and containment curses over the first living object… allowing the blood loss, up to a degree sufficient to cause death…’

Hermione stopped for a moment and double underlined ‘the first living object’.

She reread, ‘From exsanguination, contain and storage the blood and life force within the inanimate object…’ Then, she drew a mind map, circling this sentence and connecting it with an arrow to ‘The first living object—the murdered victim…Vein or artery, the bleeding out must precede the fatal incision with meticulous care, rendering the subject to pain whilst conscious of their essence leaving their body, transferring to the chosen container, possession taking place’.

Hemrione suddenly felt nauseous and felt her temples starting to throb but pushed on, noting, ‘In the case of the second living object as the living conduit of magical force, it must be rendered insensible by captive hex… Thus can one’s bolt of magic be intertwined and the transference of self and conduit succeed in arriving at predetermined destination.’

‘The captors curse must soar through the living conduit, penetrating, incapacitating it… Once the possessing wizard is encased with one’s living conduit, the transference procedure may take place. A conjugation of the two becoming one must occur, a joining of body, mind and life forces…’

Hermione underlined ‘the second living object’ and ‘living conduit’. She went back to the phrase ‘one’s bolt of magic’. Bolt? Like lightening? The curse would be unimaginably powerful and sudden like electricity…? An Unspeakable. But the second living object, she gulped hard, realizing, such as me, is kept alive, needed to be living, alive for the transference to occur…Unlike the first victim, the first living object… Exsanguination… murdered most foully…
She read slowly, once more, ‘Insert wand and pointed knife, once the first living object is incapacitated, through the skin just behind the point of the jaw and below the neck bones, severing forward the jugular vein…’ Hermione felt feint and the vague hint of stomach acid wishing to surface began to be tasted. I’m going to be sick!

She sat back, needing to pause from the gruesome content, and took deep breaths. She looked at Flint, who had gone back to chewing a nail and stared at a shadowed wall.
"Did you make notes on anything that could be used to propel a wizard through time and space?" she asked, irritated, apprehensive, her mind wanting to deny that any of this horrid evil magic had been performed on her and Sirius. Why? She didn’t want to believe anyone she knew was capable of it, affected by it.
"How would that be relevant to Weasley’s murder, Granger?" he asked softly, shocking her by his bluntness, snapping her back to this reality. He cocked his head, looking curiously at her, stating matter-of-factly, "Besides, almost any inanimate object can be turned into a Portkey."
"And a living object?" she snapped at him before she could think twice.
Marcus froze and stared at her pensively.
Something came over her and she belligerently pushed, pointing out, "Check Dark Portkeys—not the standard bewitchment of inanimate objects but the Dark bewitchment of animate objects, any usage of a living creature, say, a wizard or witch," she shoved Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia at him, "as a conduit of magical force, transporting one to a pre-arranged destination."
And there it was. Marcus knew that she knew. He knew that she knew what he had done, how he had done it, and to what lower depths of depravity and evil murderous Dark magic he had experimented and succeeded in performing… Herself the living proof.
So he knew that she knew… that he was her Marcus.
Marcus spat the gnawed fingernail to the floor. And eerily, he calmly commented, "Really, Granger?"

She watched him and he actually smiled at her, a small, smug smile. "Then, that’s the wrong the source for the answers you’re searching for." He shoved Elementum Deorc Coercere ande Coarcere: Blod ande Fortia back at her.

Her heart was thudding hard, but she breathed slowly and deeply. "No, it’s the right source. It’s quite informative. Quite detailed."
"Well, details are important." His shifty grey eyes challenged her, slamming Magicke Moste Evile shut. "Ask me, Granger. Ask me all of those questions flying around in that keen mind of yours."
She rose instinctively, not liking the look he was giving her and feeling she needed to clear her mind. And I have to find Sirius at once! "Actually, I’ve enough notes for the day. We can go."
"So soon? You seemed to be just getting started."
Hermione grabbed the parchments she had made notes on and didn’t comment but turned her back on Flint and walked quickly towards the library's door. She heard Flint's heavy steps in her wake, his breath sounding loud and rasping in the narrow passageway. She forced herself to keep moving calmly forwards, measuring each footfall as she made her way slowly to the exit. Flint was right behind her now and she was shaking with panic, lifting her hand to push the latch of the heavy door open. Suddenly she felt him move and her breath caught in her throat as his arm came around her shoulder and he leaned in. She clutched the papers to her chest and opened her mouth to shout for Harry—
—But he merely added his weight to hers and pushed the door ajar, watching with that same sardonic smile on his face as she spun away from him and out through the opened doorway.

The relief that she felt when she saw Harry's familiar face beaming at her in the brightly lit corridor beyond almost made her knees go weak.

"That was quick," Harry said to her, clearly relieved not to have to continue his conversation with Parkinson. "Did you get what you came for?"

Hermione nodded, relief washing through her. We must... must get to Sirius! she thought.

"Hermione? You look a little pale—"
"I’m fine, Harry. Just need to get back to my office and clear my head a bit. And I need to talk to Sirius as soon as possible!"
Hermione heard Flint saying something indistinct to Parkinson as she hurriedly headed to the lift with Harry, but he quickly caught up with them just as they all entered the lift.
No one spoke on the way up. Only as they entered their office did Flint give a cryptic comment. "Too much information, Granger? Too much of something is just as bad as not enough, eh?"
She ignored him, hastily pulling out the objects from her cloak that she had Diminuendoed, and tightly gripping her wand, she enlarged the books A Translation of Herpo the Great's Treatises of Fundamental Magical Truths and Constellations of the Magical Heavens immediately.
Seeing her concentrated on work and Marcus seeming to meditate on some parchments on his desk, Harry offered, "I’ll check if we’re needed yet in the meeting. I’ll be right back."
He left, and pretending that what had just happened in the Restricted Section wasn’t bothering her, Hermione gave Marcus a fleeting glance, only to see that he was sitting at his desk, rubbing his chest again, slowly fondling the object underneath.
Ignore him! Until I can confer with Sirius! She urgently opened Constellations of the Magical Heavens, searching for methods and processes for sojourning the constellations.
She came across again the citation with the reference to the Herpo’s treatise she had made notes from. So if the methods Herpo used were through murder, an act against nature, murdering the first living object, draining and suctioning the life force, capturing it for energy to propel the spell’s force, like making a Horcrux, the wizard’s soul would be torn… A murder was done to create the living force within the amulet, fed with Dark energy from evil objects, such as the books in the Restricted Section… possibly other murders… and vile acts of violation…
Her thoughts jumped back and forth. But why? What could make someone—him, she gave Flint another quick glance underneath her lashes, do such horrid deeds? I don’t understand…How could he? And Pansy was his accomplice? No! No witch could…
But then, she remembered Bellatrix Lestrange. A slight tremble went through her at the memory of Bellatrix’s torture, and she forced herself to further scan over the text, pushing aside the imagery of an unholy union of sorts between Pansy and Marcus. ‘The second living object is kept alive, sustained, fed off of, she shuddered, like a parasite feeding off of its host… The vital component, the living conduit used as their current to transport… for the magical transference through time and space… the final incantation is Portus Constellatio.’
Sirius and I are the conduit wizard and witch, formed as a conduit by and from the murder and life force of the murdered victim… She thought about wizards and witches who had recently been reported missing in her universe. Possibly murdered? Justin-Fletcher? Susan Bones? … Pansy Parkinson? But she worked in the Department of Mysteries, just like here…
Hermione’s frustration started to boil. And it’s not just these sickening curses of Herpo’s, but the celestial coordinates of when the transference occurs must be found. Where to start? She searched the book for any section to shed light on any clues.

"This might be quicker." It was Flint. He stood above her and motioned to the old astrolabe on her desk.
"Just rotate the alidade on the back, line up the stars with the sighting holes—I suggest you choose the family of Orion… A dubious but useful constellation of stars." He gave her a triumphant look, pointing at the altitude markings around the edge. "Read off the altitude in degrees scaled here. Well, again, I suggest the coordinates of latitude between +60° and −90° in the Orion constellation…"
"Do you?"
"Yes, I do, Granger. Just turn the rete and once the star pointer marks the location of the Orion stars, the celestial sphere shall be yours to travel or return to… These charmed astrolabes will project the heavens anywhere. Here, on our lovely office wall." Pugnaciously, he urged, "Do it. Now."
Seeing her not complying, he spat, "No? Thought you wanted to return."
"To return?" Her eyes smarted. He’s enjoying every twisted second of this!
"Yes, return, Granger." His eyes glinted with malice as he mockingly quoted from memory like an instruction manual, "Pinpoint the constellation or coordinates you wish. The point of the celestial sphere to bewitch oneself and one’s conduit, and once spelled, be propelled through time and space to one’s designated coordinates."
Like a cat playing with a mouse, he started to pace around her desk and offered, "I would suggest cross-referencing your notes about living conduits with Constellations of the Magical Heavens and measuring the latitude and longitude before casting the Portus Constellatio spell. Wouldn’t want to end up somewhere else, would you?" His features darkened as he whispered, "If you survive the transference, that is."
Hermione was momentarily speechless, her thoughts racing again.
"So while you’re at it, be sure to check the right ascension at 06^h 12.5^m to 07^h 27.5^m." Flint cocked his head at her and asked grimly, "Why aren’t you writing this down, Granger?"
She didn’t know where he was leading with all of this. He knew everything. She didn’t know what he wanted her to say.
"You seem confused. Didn’t know I was into Divination so thoroughly, Granger?"
She found her voice at last. "Actually, I had a hunch you were." She held her chin up defiantly. "It’s how you know that I want to match or cross–reference formulated bewitched living conduits with transference coordinates that I’m curious about. And why? Why, Flint?"
"Really?" He took a step closer towards her. "How do you think I know, Granger? Tell me. And why? I so want to hear the reason from your lips."
He made a movement, and thinking he was closing in on her, she cried out, "Don’t touch me!
"Why not?" Then he whispered fiercely, "When you know I’ve touched you before."
Flint smiled an evil smile and quoted to her softly, "‘For the purposes of capturing and containing the life force of a living beings essence.’"
Oddly, even though her heart was thumping wildly, she suddenly felt a coolness, a numbness as he snatched her parchment of notes from the Restricted Section and read out, "’The captive curse must soar through the living conduit, penetrating, incapacitating it… Once the possessing wizard is encased with one’s living conduit, the transference procedure may take place. A conjugation of the two becoming one must occur, a joining of body, mind and life forces…’"
He huffed and threw the parchment down on the desktop. "Bravo, Granger. Well done." He glared at her hatefully. "Makes one wonder if the penetrating or incapacitating is the most pleasurable of this ‘magick moste evile’…"
She snapped her wand up, even as Harry’s voice was heard, calling through the half-opened door, "The Minister’s meeting has already started, hurry you two!"
Hermione gripped her wand even tighter.
"What are you waiting for, Granger?" Marcus whispered menacingly, "Do it. Hex me. Or tell Potter, the Minister, crow out to the rooftops, or can it be, can it truly be that you still can’t prove a thing?" He cocked his head at her. "Remember?" He sneered and left.
Her breath had become shallow as she ran after Marcus who’d overtaken Harry, entering Sirius’ office ahead of her and him.
Right before entering, Harry looked at her, concerned. "Hermione? What is it?"
Her mind was reeling, her heart pounding. She felt flushed and as if she was going out of her mind with a mixture of anger and other overwhelming emotions. "Harry, help me! The book was charred… It must have been at Borgin and Burkes. And Marcus’ hand is burnt. Tell, Sirius. He must know."

"Right." Harry was studying her excited state with worry.

"I need to speak with him, privately. Urgently! Tell him, tell Sirius, ‘Marcus knows everything now; he’s my Marcus’!"

"Potter? Granger? We’re waiting," called Sirius from within.

Harry gave her an odd look, but assured her. "I will, Hermione."

As they entered, her heart raced even more, seeing Sirius give her a neutral nod, sitting casually on the edge of his desk, apparently listening to someone who had been speaking. Flint was already seated strategically between the Minister and, unthinkably, none other than Lucius Malfoy, who seemed to have been speaking.

Flustered, Hermione sat down beside Harry near the door, shutting it with a loud slam.

Malfoy had paused, and upon seeing Hermione, looked her over from head to toe, his trademark sneer causing her blood to boil.

Hermione felt like she would explode but held her tongue, gripping her wand even tighter.

How the hell did Malfoy become Undersecretary in this upside down place? And Flint! He—he…My Flint! The bastard! I’ve got to tell someone before I— She gave an urgent look to Sirius. I need you!

Sirius’ eyes had narrowed, apparently aware of her highly agitated state. He gave a sharp glance at Flint, and his voice had an impatient edge to it as he urged Malfoy to continue. "You were saying?"

"As I was saying before being interrupted," Malfoy ostentatiously paused, giving Hermione a cool stare and then proceeded, "in order to take steps to protect those of pureblood lineage against attacks, this proposal, this registration will ensure that incidents such as what’s been happening in the Department of Mysteries be minimalized—"

"What?" Hermione blurted out, the frustration she was feeling percolated uncontrollably upon being within arms reach of the loathsome wizard on top of the confrontation and full brunt of Flint’s affront, unnerving her.

Malfoy's jaw muscle's clenched, his cold, grey eyes giving way to the slightest glint of malice underlying his words. "My dear girl, this is not a Muggle-Born Registration—"

"I am not your dear girl, Malfoy." Her eyes flashed, enraged, as she looked from Malfoy to Flint.

"Undersecretary Malfoy, Granger," corrected Flint automatically.

The air was thick with tension. And you—you! It was on the tip of her tongue, taking every ounce of control not to scream out, not to incriminate Flint on the spot, revealing everything right then and there in front of everyone.

"Auror Granger, are you all right?" she heard Sirius ask.

Hermione couldn’t look at him, feeling she would truly lose it if she did. Remembering his request, ‘The past two days never happened: Borgin and Burkes never happened; we never happened… Pretend it never happened—you're good at that’, she felt her eyes smart again, but took a deep breath and forced herself to nod. I have to wait! I have to wait till I can speak with Sirius first. I can’t lose control now! Control yourself!

"Please, I know she is just getting back on her feet. Correct, Black?" Smirking, Malfoy’s grey eyes glinted with a suppressed emotion, though his words were cool and calm. "Auror Granger, this is merely a proposal for a voluntary signup of those who are of Muggle-born birth," his lips twitched slightly, "as well as half-bloods, purebloods—an invitation for full collaboration, full participation in a new policy. To root out discriminatory mindsets on all sides."
Hermione couldn’t keep her thoughts from racing back and forth wildly. She exploded, "Like yours?" She looked around utterly exasperated. "I don’t understand what’s going on here, but this cannot be right, in any universe!"
"Granger!" It was Shacklebolt reprimanding her.
Momentarily forgetting her own dilemma and whether or not her experience was the same in this universe, she couldn’t help herself and pleaded uncontrollably, "Sir, how can you sit here so calmly and listen to him after what he did—who he was—Voldemort’s lieutenant?"
Only her breathing was heard, hard and loud. She felt like she was running a marathon.
But then, she was aware of Sirius slowly crossing to her, a pained look on his face as he stated, "That’ll do, Granger. Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?"
Hermione stood slowly, allowing herself to be guided to the door by Sirius, but looked at Malfoy as he had the audacity to say to her, "Need I remind you that the Wizengamot confirmed my being Imperioed, cursed beyond my control, Granger—"
"It’s a lie!"
Malfoy’s cool snapped and he snarled at Shacklebolt, "I thought you said that she had fully recovered from Weasley’s death, from her little break-down—"
"I’m right here, Undersecretary—you needn’t talk about me as if I was not here," she ignored Sirius warning her to stop and gave Flint an accusatory look, "and I am not recovering from grief—I was attacked—"
"Hermione—Granger, that’s enough! Come with me." He took her by the arm firmly and guided her out of his office and hurriedly down the hall to hers.
Entering, Hermione broke away from Sirius as he demanded, "What the hell has got into you, nearly blowing our cover—antagonizing Malfoy and Flint like that?"
They were both panting, adrenaline rushing.
She was waving her arms around, as if to catch her breath, expecting him to understand her somehow, agitated, unable to speak.
Sirius’ voice softened seeing her level of distress and turmoil, seeing her pain and frustration, as he asked, "What’s wrong, Hermione? What the fuck happened in the Restricted Section?"
                                            oOoOoOoOo
A/N: The greatest thanks to Proulxes, alpha/beta and contributor, for all of her time, patience and skill, unconditionally giving and helping me out!
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Parallel Dilemma