London, Diagon Alley, August 28th, 1999, 18.15 hours

"According to the Daily Prophet, the Wands of Britain have proven their valour and skill by rescuing the Greengrasses."

Lucius Malfoy smiled at his wife's words, though he was already on his guard - Narcissa was quite adept at hiding biting criticism in effusive praise. "I've never doubted them."

"And yet my dear sister escaped." The pureblood witch frowned at him.

Lucius barely saw Draco whispering to Dobby as he fought back a sigh. "There was nothing the Wands could have done, dear." He had checked the reports, and the memories of select mudbloods. Who would have thought Bellatrix could learn how to fly without a broom?

Narcissa sniffed. "Another chance missed to claim my ancestral mansion."

"Even if Bellatrix had died, your other sister, her daughter, and your cousin would still be around," Lucius pointed out.

"It would have been a first step at least." Narcissa daintily sipped from her wine.

Draco scoffed, drawing Lucius' attention to the fact that he was reading the Daily Prophet at the table. Before he could scold his son, Draco put it down. "Mudbloods! Almost losing to a weak-minded rabble in the thrall of some creature!"

"You're talking about a very powerful creature, son. Your aunt was the Dark Lord's most trusted follower; she is by no means weak-willed," Lucius explained, wondering once again if he should have told Draco the truth about the Dark Lord. But at the time, his son had been too young, too impulsive. Too Gryffindor.

"Indeed. Bellatrix is many things, but weak-willed? Do not underestimate this 'creature', Draco," Narcissa said. As much as she hated her sisters, she took offense when anyone insulted them. Lucius knew that from personal experience.

"Yes, mother."

"To think the Greengrass family came close to becoming extinct," Narcissa said. "Neither daughter has yet founded a family."

Lucius knew that tone. He exchanged a glance with Draco, who looked pleadingly at him, and nodded. "It would be far too crass to talk about marriage right after such a horrible event, dear. Unbecoming of any old family." Daphne, marrying Draco? Lucius would personally kill her if everything else failed!

His wife was fuming, he saw that, but she didn't say another word. A Black would rather die than conduct herself in a crass manner. Well, a Black other than Bellatrix.

"May I read the official report, father?" Draco asked suddenly.

Lucius looked at him. His son hadn't shown much interest in the details of his work so far. He smiled. "Of course. It's good of you to take an interest in such matters."

Later, in his study, he handed the preliminary report to his son. Draco skimmed most parts but the actual fight, mumbling some names. Was he maybe worrying about his dalliances? Lucius had already spoken with the key Wands, but showing the entire family cared about them would help morale, the Minister thought. As last night had proven, they needed the mudbloods to beat the Dark Lord.

Maybe his son was growing up. It wouldn't be the first time a young wizard became a man during times of war.

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London, Diagon Alley, August 29th, 1999, 20.45 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione threw the last report she had to write on the 'out' pile on her desk. Finally done! She leaned back, ignoring the jealous expression of Dean, who was still writing his reports, and stretched her arms over head. The Wands had been buried in paperwork this afternoon, but the young witch had felt she had been singled out - she had had to write reports as 'acting Wand-Commander' as well, just because she had been in command for a few minutes.

Now though, she had finished her task, and could leave for Diagon Alley. Meet with Antoine, check up on Luna, head to room 11 at the Leaky Cauldron… It was tempting, but she had another task left still.

She needed to find those retired Obliviators who had saved her from her muggle parents. She tried to suppress the doubts that she harboured, the nagging feeling that the reports she had read did not tell her what had really happened. It was inconceivable that the rot she had discovered among the Obliviators reached that far back. It had to be inconceivable.

And yet, she wouldn't be able to shake this feeling until she had tracked Keagan Banks and Ottokar Merriweather down and interrogated them.

She grabbed a roll of parchment and stood up. "If anyone is looking for me, I'll be down in the Wills Registry."

"Updating your own will?" Dean looked at her. "Are you and that tourist that serious?"

Hermione chuckled, ignoring the emotion that question brought up. "I'm just covering the bases. Theoretically, the attack on Greengrass Manor could have been motivated by someone slated to inherit the estate."

Dean snorted and shook his head, indicating what he thought of that theory, but went back to his own report as she left.

A few minutes later, she entered the registry. As expected, no one was around. She dropped her request on the desk of the clerk in charge, who'd see it in the morning, checked for witnesses, then went into the archives. The witch had memorised all the close relatives from the family registry, and it didn't take her long to discover that Banks had inherited his great-aunt's home in Durham. Merriweather was trickier - his family had a lot of members. She finally found a cottage in Pembrokeshire that he had inherited from his great-uncle in 1990.

On a whim, she checked the family registry again. Merriweather had inherited estates despite having multiple closer relatives. Banks's great-aunt had disinherited her own children. Hermione couldn't help but suspect foul play - it would have been easy for a trained Obliviator to modify some memories, and arrange an inheritance...

She'd have to be very careful approaching these two, Hermione thought as she left the archives.

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London, Diagon Alley, August 30th, 1999, 06.30 hours

Lying on her side, her head propped up by her off-hand, Wand-Leader Hermione trailed her fingers over the chest of a sleeping Antoine, up to his face, and over some of his freckles. She smiled when she saw him grimace and scrunch up his nose, still asleep, at her touch, and withdrew her hand.

"I'm becoming a scarlet witch," she mumbled. "I didn't even think of returning to the barracks yesterday." She didn't really feel guilty about it though. Being with Antoine just felt right. Luna said he made her happy, and she was inclined to agree.

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, which woke the wizard up.

"Too early…" he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

Chuckling, she shook her head. "You'd never make it in the Corps."

"Probably not," he admitted. "Not that I'd be able to join anyway, right? You're all muggleborn."

"Yes," she said, wondering where he was going with this. They hadn't talked about blood in a while.

"And you're the best wizards and witches in Britain."

"Yes." She smiled proudly, then blinked. What...

He smiled wryly. "And yet the purebloods look down on you. Weird, right?"

She nodded, slowly, then shook her head. "We're trained for this. They aren't."

"I've seen Aurors in action, they really are not trained enough. Wouldn't have lasted half an hour back…" he trailed off, sighing. He must have remembered the war, she thought. "Do you have time to eat breakfast with me?"

"If you don't take too long getting up and dressed." Hermione grinned at him, glad to see that topic dropped. "Unless you'd prefer to do something else in the time I've left…"

His eyes lit up.

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Pembrokeshire, United Kingdom, August 30th, 1999, 22.40 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione, wearing her invisibility cloak, studied the cottage near the coast of Wales. Ottokar Merriweather, retired Obliviator, lived there. Alone, according to the records she had seen. As expected from a centuries-old house, the wards were quite strong. She wouldn't be able to break through them quickly enough to catch anyone inside - or avoid the response of the Corps. Fortunately, she had other options.

Out of her bag, she pulled a box with four frogs inside. A flick of her wand had them confused into thinking it was mating season, and an Amplifying Charm later the area was filled with croaking loud enough to drown out a dragon's roar.

It didn't take long for Merriweather to leave his cottage, wand in hand, to deal with them. To his credit, he seemed to expect someone else to be around as well, since he was looking around and had cast a Shield Charm in advance. He didn't think to cast the Human-Presence-Revealing Spell though, not even when he left the warded area. Amateur, she thought, as she sent two Piercing Curses followed by a Stunner at him.

His shield shattered under the first curse, the second holed his leg, and the Stunner took him down before he could scream. She had expected that, and had aimed at his legs so she'd not accidentally kill him.

She hadn't expected the red curse flying at her from the window of the cottage though. Fortunately, she had excellent reflexes and was invisible, so she managed to dodge the spell by dropping to the ground. Rolling to the side, she berated herself - her instructor had taught her to keep moving when casting while disillusioned. Now she was facing someone in a warded house, who had probably already called the Aurors.

She could summon Merriweather, and flee. But her plan to obliviate him afterwards was already foiled - the other wizard would know of the attack. And she couldn't get to that wizard; breaking through the wards would take longer than even the response time of the Aurors. She cursed under her breath - she had been sloppy to assume he was alone, and lacked a backup plan - and sent a few spells at the cottage, seeing them splash against the wards without effect. With a bit of luck this would be seen as another Fanatic attack, or a simple attempt at theft.

Then she apparated away.

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County Durham, United Kingdom, August 30th, 1999, 23.05 hours

Keagan Banks had a bigger, older house than his former colleague. Even stronger wards too. Hermione had another batch of frogs, but to use the same trick twice would be foolish. Not to mention that she would run into the same problem if the man had visitors. But she had a plan. Instead of the box she pulled out a vial and a small pouch with a lock of hair out of her bag. She picked a single hair from the lock, then dropped it into the vial.

A gulp later, she felt her body change, taking the shape of a 16 year-old Cho Chang. Back in her fourth year at Hogwarts she had decided to go with Marietta Edgecombe's body to teach the two Ravenclaws a lesson, but she had kept the hair from the older witch as well. A quick transfiguration changed her nondescript robes into a copy of the latest fashion from Teen Witch Weekly, and a few drops from a flask gave them the correct smell of firewhiskey.

The picture of a drunken teenage witch, she deliberately walked into the wards. Her yell of pain when they pushed her back hard enough to make her stumble wasn't as fake as her appearance.

"Hey! What's wrong with you?" she shouted. "That hurt!" She didn't quite hit Chang's snobby accent. Not that it would have mattered - Chang was now quite a bit older.

She closed her eyes briefly, then walked into the wards again. "Ow! Merlin damn it!"

That did it. The front door opened, and Banks peered out, wand aimed at her.

"Tyron? That you?" She squinted at him.

"You've got the wrong house, Miss."

"Uh? But I apparated just like I learned." Hermione stood up on shaking legs. She didn't need to fake that - she was not used to this body, and the wards did hurt. Swaying on her feet, she shook her head. "We celebrated our licenses, you know."

The former Obliviator sighed. "You're drunk."

"Tipsy!" she protested, giggling. "I just had a tiny bit!"

"You'd better use the Floo to return home."

"Thank you!" She smiled at him and walked once again into the wards before he could stop her, though this time she yelled even louder, and stayed on the ground.

Hermione heard him mutter about 'stupid bints' and walk towards her. When he shook her shoulder, she rolled onto her back with her wand pointed at him.

"Stupefy!"

Levitating the retired Obliviator into his own home and securing him hadn't taken long. Using gloves, Wand-Leader Hermione opened his mouth and administered four drops of Veritaserum to the man. It might be a slight overdose, but she was certain the man would survive it.

"Rennervate!"

Banks woke up with the dull expression of a potioned man. He showed neither fear nor anger at being bound to a chair - the Veritaserum was working. Hermione activated her Dicta Quill and started her questions.

"Who are you?"

"Keagan Banks." Prompted, he stated his birthdate, address and family.

"Were you working for the Obliviator Office back in 1983?" She leaned forward, watching him carefully.

"Yes."

"Did you recover a muggleborn child named Hermione Granger in 1983?" She almost stumbled over the name. Granger. She had a family, apart from the Corps.

"I don't know."

For a moment, she feared he had been obliviated. Then she told herself it had been sixteen years. Witnesses rarely had a good memory, especially after such a long time. She pulled out the copy of the report. "Is this your signature?"

He squinted at the parchment. "Yes."

She let him read it. "Does this report state the truth about what happened during that incident?"

"No."

Hermione drew a hissing breath. "What parts are untrue?"

"The muggle abuse."

"The child abuse by the muggles?" She held her breath.

"Yes."

Hermione closed her eyes, and fought to concentrate. She still couldn't assume, didn't know… "Was the child hurt as stated in the report? Broken bones, bruises, lacerations?

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"Ottokar."

"Merriweather?"

"Yes."

She hissed. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For the report. Some Healers don't like to fake files."

Some. Not all. The rot had spread more than she had feared, even back then. "The report claims you obliviated the parents. Is that true?"

"Yes."

The young witch wondered if the man had started to fight the potion, he was rather evasive compared to other subjects she had interrogated. Although as a former Obliviator, he would be well-versed in the mental arts. "What exactly did you do to them?"

"Stunned them and set fire to the house. Made it look like an accident."

Her parents were dead. Hermione had no family in the muggle world. She ground her teeth and focused on the interrogation again. "Why did you do this?"

"Orders."

"You were ordered to do this?"

"Yes."

"By whom?" Who could have ordered them to do this, and fake the reports? To murder and lie?

"The Department Head."

Fudge… he was still Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. But according to all she had heard and had observed, he was weak and easily influenced… could he have hidden his true nature like this? So close to Minister Malfoy, for all those years? She trembled. "Was there any reason given for those orders?"

"Orders from higher up."

Hermione froze. There was only one person above Fudge. The Minister himself. That couldn't be true. Not him. Fudge had to have been lying. But why? Why would he have done this? Maybe he had been imperiused, but again, for what purpose? And by whom? Maybe Banks had been memory-charmed, but again, to what purpose? No one knew she was investigating this. What aim, what goal would it serve to lie about a muggleborn's family? She knew one possible reason, of course. Even if it couldn't be true. "How… " She took a deep breath. "How many reports about muggleborns being abused by muggles did you fake?"

"I don't know."

Frowning, she reworded the question: "Did you fake more reports about muggleborn children being abused?"

"Yes."

She hesitated, then pushed on. "Did you fake all of them?"

"Yes."

Once again she wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She had to know. "Did you ever see any muggleborn child being abused by muggles?"

"No."

Merlin! Herself, Dean, Colin, Sally-Anne, Seamus… everyone in the Corps 'knew' they had been saved from magic-hating muggles! It couldn't be true! He had to be lying, or be manipulated. But her training made her continue the interrogation. Her training, and her need to know the truth. "Did… did the Minister know about this?"

"Don't know."

"You don't know if he knew?"

"Yes."

She shouldn't ask the next question. Her training had taught her that. But she couldn't help it. "Do you think the Minister knew?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Fudge wouldn't have done anything without his approval."

Fudge. It came back to Fudge. He was the key. She would have to interrogate a department head. Without getting caught. Merlin! Could she do this by herself? And yet, if she didn't, she'd never know just how far this rot had spread. And even though she dreaded the answer, remaining ignorant was not possible.

She asked a few more questions, learning details that made her feel both enraged and sick. "Did you obliviate and memory charm purebloods as well?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

The rather long list included his own family, which she had suspected already, and numerous others. Sometimes for petty reasons, sometimes for worse. She had to fight her temper or she'd have killed the man. Taking deep breaths, she noticed that he seemed more lucid. With an evil smile, she turned her wand on him.

"Obliviate!"