Hate and Love Are Equally Earned

The journey to London was a quiet one. 

No one looked in her direction the rest of the way, not even Theseus. She couldn't blame them. Elijah was annoyingly right, as usual. They'd already wanted to slap a monster label on her forehead, and she'd given them every reason to.

You can't do monstrous things and pretend you're not a monster.

Hope walked in through the Ministry doors, her head held high, and she was led down a series of hallways. Right before she turned the corner, a pulse of something caught her attention. Albus and Elijah stood at the corner, features tight as they watched her. She met their eyes, a silent understanding passing between them.

It was her trust in them that kept her walking down the hall to the interrogation room. Stepping inside, the door slammed behind her. Turning, she realized no one had followed her in. Alone with her thoughts, she plopped down in a chair and stared at the desk in the middle of the room.

Made of aged wood, it looked standard, much like other desks she'd seen in old-time movies. In fact, the entire room didn't seem magical at all. It was like taking a slice of the Muggle world and dumping it into this tiny room. At first, she wondered if it was a way of stopping Wizards and Witches from using their magic, but then another thought made her smile.

It was meant as a scare tactic, she realized. Muggle artifacts in an unfamiliar territory designed to instill unease in those being interrogated. 

The wall clock ticked the seconds, and she watched the minute hand move from the three to the four. 

What was with all the mind games? If they had a witness and already knew they were going to sentence her, why try to make her squirm?

Something Elijah had said came back. They wouldn't be able to prove the remains weren't innocent people. However, they also couldn't prove the remains weren't of dangerous criminals, which Hope was defending herself.

Maybe they held fewer aces than Hope assumed.

The door opened with a teeth-aching creak, and someone stepped through the threshold.

"Good afternoon, Hope." An old man with snowy hair spoke, letting his cane guide his aged body to the seat opposite the desk from her. It took him a moment to sit, but he fixed her with a severe stare when he did. "Do you know why you're here today?"

Hope crossed her legs, resting her palms on her knees, staring back. "The Aurors didn't say."

A crinkled smile touched his lips. "I've heard a lot about you, Hope. Unfortunately, not all good things, but you are sharp as a tack and quick as a wit."

She didn't reply.

"So," he continued, "you know how this works. I'll ask you questions, and you'll likely evade any answer that might seem accusatory to yourself. However…" he trailed off, "If what I've heard is, in fact, correct, you're looking at a hefty consequence."

Silence stretched as the seconds ticked.

"My name is Gabriel. Is there anything you'd like to talk about, Hope?"

Hope managed a small smile. "Ah, yes, is this an interrogation or a therapy session? I'm confused."

Chuckling, he shook his head and opened the file in front of him, searching through it. "You are what you call a Tribrid? Part Witch, part Vampire, and part Werewolf. Is that correct?"

The door opened again, and a voice grated her nerves.

"Sorry I'm late," Thomas said as he closed the door behind him.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Hope said as she turned to look at him. She'd heard a heartbeat just outside the door but hadn't known who it was. "You're not late. You've been standing by the door for the past five minutes waiting to come in to throw me off or whatever tactic you're trying to pull, and you're only here because it's well known I deeply dislike you after the stunt you pulled."

Hate was a strong word to use in an interrogation room. She'd save that word for a private moment while potentially ripping his blonde head off his wilting body.

Gabriel cleared his throat as Thomas reached a seat in the corner. He was seemingly occupied with his briefcase and whatever was inside.

"That's quite enough, Hope," Gabriel frowned, "Thomas is here because he is head of the Werewolf Code of Conduct here at the Ministry. You are part Werewolf, yes? And you are an undeclared Werewolf under Wizarding Law."

"I was given special permission from the Minister himself," Hope countered, "I am not the same as the Werewolves in your textbooks."

"Precisely. That is the reason for much of the concern the Ministry has."

Hope pursed her lips into a tight line, tapping her foot a little as she glanced over at Thomas, who seemed to have his things in order now and was looking right back at her.

While his expression was placid, she could see the gleam in his eyes. He was enjoying every minute of her up against Wizard Law, and perhaps not even Albus Dumbledore could save her.

Refraining from a snarl, Hope turned her attention back to Gabriel.

"What do you know about me?" Hope asked as calmly as she could.

Gabriel closed her file and nodded. "Much," he said without going into details, "where were you the night of June 27th of this year?"

"I was at Hogwarts."

"All night? Going into June 28th?"

Hope paused, thinking. She didn't have to prove she hadn't done the act; she just had to prove it was justified—at least justified by self-defense standards.

Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her position in the chair and sighed. "I was in the Library at Hogwarts, and I saw a glow from the window. I've seen fires in the past," she glanced over at a quill that wrote every word she said independently, the scritch-scratch made her arms tingle, "I could see it was big. I wanted to help, so I ran there. As fast as I could."

"Where was the fire?"

"Upper Hogsfield. It was a bakery I," she swallowed back the emotion that threatened to gather in her throat, "I'm friends…was friends with the woman who owned a bakery in the general direction. When I arrived, the bakery was up in flames, and I went inside to save her, but she…" Hope took a deep breath. "She didn't make it. She'd…inhaled too much smoke, and I…"

Gabriel nodded slowly. "Take your time. Would you like some water?"

Hope shook her head. "Alice was my friend, and she was murdered. I feared for the safety of the rest of the village."

"Why did you fear for them?"

"Poachers started the fire," Hope bit her lip, "I heard them. Laughing. Talking about what they'd done. I knew it was a matter of time before they hurt someone else."

"What did you do then?"

Hope looked up at him. She wanted to genuinely believe he was on her side, but she couldn't trust anyone.

"I followed them, and I made sure they wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again."

Gabriel nodded. "How did you do that?"

This was the tricky part. What to tell- what not to tell. They'd found the remains; they would have already seen the limbs separated and bodies burned. It would only hurt her case if she averted the truth around something so factually correct.

"I tore them apart and burned them."

"With your bare hands?" Gabriel asked, tilting his head to the side.

Hope swallowed, silently cursing. "Yes."

Gabriel nodded. "That would take an incredible amount of strength. You must be powerful."

"Like any other Vampire, but they're not being threatened with Azkaban."

"They didn't tear bodies apart," Thomas spoke then.

Hope turned to look at him. "That you know of." She retorted.

His nostrils flared. "Is this a game to you?"

"Why? Are you having fun?"

Gabriel raised a hand to Thomas to keep him from speaking as if he were a new pup in a pack. "No one is threatening anything as of right now. We just want to know what happened."

"Here's what happened," Hope leaned forward, "my friend was murdered, and I took out the Poachers that did it. I protected the rest of the population because, as I've learned repeatedly when you tell the Ministry something, they ignore it. No matter how dire the need. Are my methods different from yours? Certainly, but they're effective. I've not heard any complaints that there are less Poachers in the world."

"So what I'm trying to say is," she sat back in her chair, jaw tight, before spitting out, "You're welcome."