3 An old friends visit

Since she's come to America, Hermione was prone to more daydreaming. She would imagine the spells she could be using and the strange objects she had come to love. There was magic here, yes, with their own schools and their own governing body, but none had recognized her yet, and she intended to keep it that way, but she missed magic. She was a witch after all. The brightest witch of her age.

She never thought this was where she would end up: jobless and cast out of her circle of friends. It had turned out the 'Golden Trio' title held little weight, because it had taken her a battle with a troll to gain their trust, and a single breakup to undo 11 years of companionship. Not to mention she had been on the way to becoming a lawyer. Her apprenticeship at St. Mungo's had been cut short by personal request of Kingsley, in fact, to invite her to the Ministry's law enforcement Department. All undone by a reckless shouting match between herself and Ronald in an all too public location of the law enforcement office.

"How rich is this?" she whispered to herself, closing the door to the apartment behind her. "Brightest witch of her age, worth completely nothing."

"I wouldn't bet all my Galleons on that," another voice answered, shocking Hermione. Instantly, her wand was drawn, pointed at the intruder, but she was met with familiar jet black hair and almond-shaped green eyes, and her wand arm lowered posed for the number of spells used to defend heself.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, too surprised to move, much less hug the boy back. He had grown since they last saw each other; he was now at least a nose taller than her. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"It's still helpful to work for the Ministry," Harry said unabashedly, grinning. "They've got you on surveillance, Mione." Like a weight had been dropped, the beam of his smile faltered, his gaze leveling. I could tell he had many things to tell me but was holding back unsure of his fragile friend.

Hermione wasn't thick—it was clear Harry had come for more than just a chat, and he was unusually serious. He hadn't been this somber since his days at Hogwarts, in fact. She hadn't seen this side him since Voldemort had risen. Hermione clenched her jaw at this chilling thought especially since his trail has remained cold for so many years.

"We should talk." Hermione's voice was clipped, but judging from Harry's expression, she was right. They made themselves comfortable on Hermione's couch, a coffee table between them. "Why're they surveilling me? I haven't been near the Ministry in-,"

"A while," Harry interrupted, nodding. "Yes, but I get the feeling something big's happening. McGonagall is running Hogwarts now, remember? I spoke to her yesterday. There's been accidents all over school, even with the seventh years. Magic backfiring, exploding-,"

"Sounds like Seamus' kids running around," Hermione muttered. "If we were old enough for kids."

"'Mione, this is serious. I've never known the Ministry to watch over a witch or wizard like this, especially not one without a record!" he pleaded. His eyebrows were furrowed, and Hermione fought to keep hers straight.

"So what do you want me to do about it? I haven't been home in God remembers how long, I don't know why they would want to watch me!" Hermione said. "I haven't even got a proper family, after what I've done to them!"

At that, Harry visibly flinched. He remembered what Hermione had done for him three years ago, and he knew the weight of it. He had grown up without parents, surely he would understand what it was like to lose Hermione's, who had always supported her magic, even when they couldn't understand it.

A uncomfortable silence fell over them.

"Does Ginny know I'm here?" Hermione finally asked softly. Ginny had become something of a sister to her, especially with her budding relationship with Harry. "Does she know I'm okay?"

"I didn't tell her anything," Harry admitted. "I wanted to make sure you were alright first." He looked around, as if the walls had ears. "I did a bit of digging Hermione. Off books. I found something."

"Do I even want to know what?"

"You will, and I'll tell you," he hesitated. "But not right now." Without warning, a Patronus flew in the house, with a message for Harry to get to Diagon Alley. A mugging in the wizarding world had gone bad. Harry cursed. "There used to be a time being an Auror was fun, you know? Now we're chasing down cat burglars who've lost their ability to control magic. We've got no idea what's going on."

"You should go," Hermione said. "For them, I mean."

"I'll be back," Harry promised, standing up as he pulled his wand out. "Don't use the telephones, okay? Write letters, but don't use the telephones. Trust me."

Hermione bit back her comment about not needing to. Despite his recklessness, Harry always had good reasons for whatever mystery that played out in his mind. More times than not, they had been in his favor, too. It was only right that she listened to him now. Still, she couldn't help the sense of hurt that flashed in her at his words.

"Go," Hermione finally uttered. Just one word, and Harry Apparated away with a crack.