Chapter 3

The Wrath Of Mafalda Hopkirk

The Ministry was busy that day. People were popping in and out of the Atrium and paper airplanes and other folded creations were swooping through the air, weaving between the heads of people heading to their offices. Hermione strode through the hall with purpose, though many of the butterflies she'd felt the night before were returning. She knew she could postpone this meeting until the next day but decided the sooner she got it over with, the better. Besides, a "maybe" still held more promise than a "definite yes," so perhaps that would soften the blow.

She took a lift to level two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and briefly considered going straight to the Head of the entire department. It would certainly be less painful, but she quickly thought better of it. Mafalda Hopkirk would be enraged if Hermione were to skip over her with the news. Might as well face the music.

Hermione had gotten off to a rough start with the Improper Use of Magic Office. That wasn't to say she didn't breeze through training or do her job perfectly well, but Mafalda Hopkirk wasn't exactly a fan of hers. Once upon a time, Hermione, Harry, and Ron had broken into the Ministry of Magic and Hermione had used a polyjuice potion to impersonate Hopkirk. Back then, the witch had been a mere assistant, but since then had been promoted to Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office. Hopkirk was a stringent follower of rules and during that time had been a big help to Dolores Umbridge in persecuting muggleborns. She publicly apologized for her actions, explaining that she was only doing what the Ministry required her to do in order to keep her job. Hermione didn't blame the woman for simply following orders, but when the details of the horcrux hunt had been released, the revelation of Hermione's impersonation stunt had not been lost on Hopkirk. She had always been bitter and came down on Hermione hard for any mistakes she made, big or small. Or even nonexistent.

The door loomed ahead. Hermione took deep breaths. It wasn't really that big of a deal, she just had to get it over with. Hopkirk may even be pleased by the idea that she wouldn't have to work with her anymore. This thought gave Hermione a new sense of confidence as she knocked on the door as politely as possible.

"Come in!"

She closed the door behind her just as Hopkirk was clucking her tongue and saying, "Oh, no, no, nooo!" she grabbed the quill that had been set to write of its own accord, "'Come in' is not the next person's name! If only I could get this quill to somehow understand me rather than just copy down everything I say. Let me just finish this stack, if you don't mind."

Nodding, Hermione remained standing. She knew better than to sit without being invited to do so. Hopkirk was a stickler for rules as well as manners, though the manners she believed in usually applied to "your elders," but didn't always translate both ways.

The wispy-haired witch propped up the quill once more and proceeded to recite a list of names. The quill promptly copied the names onto pre-written letters, which then levitated itself to a stack of other completed letters.

"Greebler, Biblius; Greengrass, Noah; Grinwell, Mirabelle; Gunther, Fortinae; Gurgle, Gloria. There, that's the end of the stack. No more G's! Why don't you have a seat and tell me what this is all about, hmm?"

Hermione sat as instructed and clasped her hands in her lap. It was so unfair. Mafalda Hopkirk was a generally well-liked witch, but she just had to be nasty to Hermione. The Polyjuice Potion incident had been for the good of the world! If only she would forgive her, she'd have a much easier time of this.

"I've been offered a job at Hogwarts as professor of Transfiguration," Hermione stated bluntly, preparing herself for the worst.

Hopkirk stroked the feathers of her quill mindlessly, thinking for a moment. "And are you going to accept this offer?"

"I haven't decided quite yet, but I will have an answer for you tomorrow morning," Hermione explained. "And if I do take it, I will remain here on the job until the end of the week, but then I will have to leave to prepare for the school year."

"I see," Hopkirk was still stroking that quill. She pursed her lips before she spoke again, her voice this time a bit lower, "You do realize that your salary as a teacher would certainly not equal your current pay. And the training you've been through for this position would have been all for naught."

The woman seemed to read Hermione's mind. Her trepidations about money had long since been put to rest, but the wasted time and effort… Well, Hopkirk definitely knew how to get to her!

"I understand that," Hermione said, "and I've considered it all. I would have had my mind made up by now, but I have a couple of friends I'd like to consult first. I'm planning on visiting them this evening."

Hopkirk narrowed her eyes at Hermione, "And if you had to choose right this moment, what would that choice be, may I ask?"

Hermione hesitated. This wasn't something she had planned on doing until the next morning when her mind was officially made up.

"I would take it."

Hopkirk sighed, "What a pity! A talent like you…" she paused, Hermione suspected it was for dramatic effect, "You know the saying, 'youth is wasted on the young?'" Hermione nodded, unsure of where the witch was going with this. "Some of the most brilliant people are wasted on the young, as well. Does it really take the brightest witch the Minsitry has seen in years to teach a bunch of children how to turn a porcupine into a pin cushion? It's been done so many times and you could be using your intelligence in so many better ways."

Hermione did not say anything. She distinctly disagreed with Hopkirk on this point. She remembered what Ron had said the other day, "Can you count the number of really awesome teachers you've had on more than one hand?" Most of what Hermione had been doing in her current position was signing letters, much like Hopkirk herself had been doing only moments ago. Leave it to the head of a department or office to glorify the work that was being done there. That very glorification been what roped Hermione into wanting this job initially. And all that training she had gone through was purely based on emergency circumstances. They got a case that required real magic and real skill maybe once every five or ten years.

"You would have risen to great heights here," Hopkirk continued, trying her hardest to make Hermione feel as guilty as possible, "The Head of the Department even suggested to me that a promotion should not be far off, and I was considering the possibilities for your future intently."

This was doubtful. Hopkirk would probably keep Hermione down as long as she possibly could until the Head actually demanded that she be promoted.

"You probably would have even filled my shoes one day," Hopkirk smirked, "Oh, wait, you've done that already, haven't you?"

Hermione glared back at her. She genuinely liked the rest of her coworkers, and as Hopkirk communicated with Hermione as little as possible, she didn't have to deal with her on a regular basis. But she had had just about enough. "Is there anything else, ma'am, because I really do believe I should get to work," she all but bit out, trying to keep her voice as level as possible.

"No, no, that would be all," Hopkirk said, gathering some new papers for a new stack of letters. "I hope you make the right decision. Don't slack off now just because you may not be here much longer!"

Hermione rose from the chair, turned on her heels, and left the office as fast as she could without visibly rushing. "Slack off" my arse! Hermione thought, anger fogging her vision for a moment. If there was one insult she detested the most, it was a blow to her work ethic.

Reaching her office, and perhaps pushing the door shut with more force than was necessary, she sat at her desk and tried to think calming thoughts, but they wouldn't come.

Slack off… she grit her teeth. Take those letters Hopkirk had been finishing off just as she entered her office, for example! Hermione had been the one to write those. They were letters sent home to all the families of students that would be starting Hogwarts as first years on September 1st. They guaranteed that parents and students alike were aware of the rights and rules for underage witches and wizards and what magic was considered "improper" at school, during holidays, and over the summer. It was a policy instated after the fall of Voldemort to make sure that students were not partaking in any dangerous practices outside of the classroom before they came of age. In fact, Hermione had been one of the key contributors in the writing of the new extended contract that detailed all of this. And that had been finished while she was still in training!

Maybe everyone was right. Everyone but Mafalda Hopkirk, that was. Perhaps she was too good for this job!

Hopkirk was clearly not open to the idea of Hermione finding a more suitable job. McGonagall, on the other hand, though she obviously wanted Hermione to join the Hogwarts faculty, understood that she needed to make the best choice for herself. If the boss-to-employee relationship in both of her options was any indication, she would clearly be happier and better utilized at the school.

Her mind was made up. However, like she had told Hopkirk, she wanted to consult with a couple of friends first. Of course, she knew what they would say, but she wanted to cover all her bases before finalizing her decision. Perhaps they would want her to be closer with the pregnancy and everything. She'd tell them what she told Ron: just because she'd be in Scotland didn't mean it was anymore difficult to floo or apparate.

She had to stop trying to foretell the conversation. She had never been good at Divination, anyway. She sat back and waited for the day to end.

xxxxx

Hermione knocked on the door of 12 Grimmauld Place. While there wasn't really any need for the incredible amount of protection that the house had always been placed under anymore, it was still hidden from muggle eyes. After all, it would have been suspicious for house number 12 to suddenly appear on Grimmauld Place overnight, especially after the residents had already gotten used to the "mistake" in the numbering. In addition, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't minded the privacy when they moved in after the Battle of Hogwarts, anyway.

The door opened but Hermione saw no one there until it was closed behind her and she looked down to find Kreacher bowing to her. "Welcome back, Miss Hermione," he greeted her proudly.

"Good evening, Kreacher. How are you?" Hermione always addressed house-elves with respect. Though the days of S.P.E.W. were long gone, she had always believed that treating a house-elf kindly was the only way for the strange relationship between elves and humans to be preserved properly without any rebellions. Besides, a house-elves' magic was easily comparable to the brute of a Hippogriff, and wizards treated Hippogriffs with respect, did they not?

"Kreacher is doing well, Miss. Kreacher is having a most relaxing summer vacation away from Hogwarts," he showed her through the hall. Based on the time, she was sure that Harry and Ginny were eating dinner. She hoped they wouldn't mind her dropping in unexpectedly.

Suddenly, a rather strong (though small) force knocked into her legs, threatening to upset her balance, but the embrace that followed held her in place. She looked down to find Winky with her arms wrapped around her legs.

"Nice to see you too, Winky!" she giggled.

"Oh, Miss Hermione, Harry Potter is so glad to be seeing you! He is always missing his friends and we was all hoping that you was visiting soon! Miss Ginny is also missing you, but it is mostly Harry Potter, for you see Miss, he was used to living with his friends so it is a piece of his heart that is gone. But there is a new Potter coming and they is all very pleased!" Winky grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her down the stairs to the kitchen. Kreacher followed close behind, occasionally grunting in agreement with Winky's babbling. The elder house-elf didn't have much patience for Winky. Hermione had learned this that first summer when they moved in and invited the two Hogwarts-employed house-elves to live with them until the school year started. However, it appeared that Kreacher had grown more accustomed to Winky's excited energy since then.

Though the mention of the word "Crouch" still made Winky burst into tears, she had come a long way since her depression. In fact, she proudly told most people she came across that she was "23 months sober!" Dobby had been a big help with the start of the rehabilitation process, but when he died, Winky had reached for the bottle once again. However, after the war was over, Hermione had made it her personal mission, in between training and anything she had going on in her personal life, to help Winky become the cheerful house-elf she was meant to be. As a result, Hermione and Winky had formed a very special friendship-like bond.

Hermione allowed herself to be pulled into the kitchen where she found that Harry and Ginny were indeed eating dinner. When they saw her come in, Ginny immediately put down her fork and ran over to give her a hug, still chewing. Harry got up after making sure Ginny sat down okay (she was only three months pregnant and hardly showing, but he was already treating her as if she were on bed rest) and hugged her next. They invited her to sit down, and she helped herself to a plate of food. She asked all the usual questions about the pregnancy and the wedding. They were planning on marrying over the December holidays.

"That's great! I'll definitely be able to attend, then!" Hermione said happily.

Her two friends were confused and looked at each other before Harry asked, "Er… are you going away somewhere?"

"Kind of," Hermione hinted, enjoying the suspense she was building for them. They stared at her expectantly until she couldn't hold it in anymore. "Oh, all right!" she burst. "McGonagall has asked me to be the new Transfigurations Professor!"

"Oh, Hermione, that's wonderful!" Ginny gushed, getting up to walk around the table and embrace Hermione once more.

"That's so perfect," Harry agreed. "I can't think of a better thing for you to be doing. Or a better place for you to be!"

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione said, relieved. She didn't know why she felt that way, considering she never expected them to disapprove. "I wanted to see how you felt about it before I wrote her an owl accepting her offer."

"What, as if you ever had any second thoughts?" Harry inquired. "I thought you would've accepted on the spot!"

She shook her head. "I suppose Ron hasn't mentioned anything to you yet, huh?"

"He told us that you were the one to set him up with Neville, but he didn't say anything about this!" Ginny replied.

Hermione sighed. "We got into a fight. It was really stupid. But he's still mad at me and I don't really know how to approach it," she admitted. Before they had a chance to ask how that was related to her news, she added, "I don't really want to get into it right now. I'm just hoping it'll blow over like everything else."

They accepted this and there was silence for a moment. All of her arguments with Ron were getting so old. Hermione also knew in the back of her mind that she was also reluctant to admit to her own hypocrisy, but she stifled that thought. Winky finally broke the tension.

"Is it correct that Winky is hearing of Miss Hermione coming to Hogwarts?" she asked in amazement. "And that Winky is having the honor of making meals for her every single day?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile at this and nodded her head. Winky nearly fainted. Clearly the excitement was too much for her.

"Kreacher, is you not hearing?" Winky looked around at the other elf. Kreacher did not seem as thrilled, but did not show any signs of negative emotion, either. "Is you so insulting of Miss Hermione that you is not even saying anything at all?"

"Kreacher is delighted to be assisting Miss Hermione throughout the year," Kreacher commented. "Despite her unfortunate lineage, Kreacher feels great respect for Miss Hermione."

"It's true!" Winky exploded energetically, "Kreacher is working at Hogwarts with so many muggleborns and he is not even saying a negative word to a single one!" She then lowered her voice and approached the table so that only the three of them could hear, "I is suspecting that maybe Kreacher is not knowing who is muggleborn and who is not and that is why he is not insulting them." She turned back to Kreacher who glared at her suspiciously, "Winky is just kidding, Kreacher is a great friend to Winky! And a great Hogwarts house-elf!"

Kreacher grunted in reply and made his way over to his nest in the corner of the kitchen. Harry had offered Kreacher his own bedroom, but he had refused, feeling that it was not appropriate in the House of Black. Winky had never made any permanent sleeping arrangements of her own, but she often curled up on a couch or armchair in the sitting room.

"I am very excited to be joining you there, both of you," Hermione said, smiling. It seemed as though a lot of her reservations about taking the job were based on comparing the jobs themselves. She hadn't really thought about all the perks that came with living at Hogwarts. She suddenly found herself looking forward to it immensely. Knowing this was the moment she had been waiting for, she rose from the table and excused herself, "Sorry to leave so soon, I just really need to go write that acceptance note to Professor McGonagall. Thank you for dinner, and thanks for helping me realize how great this is going to be."

Harry and Ginny both grinned widely at her. "We're so happy for you, Hermione," Ginny said, getting up to hug her. Harry followed suit and they walked her to the front door, Winky trailing close behind (Kreacher had already fallen asleep).

"Goodbye, Miss Hermione! Winky is seeing you soon!"

xxxxx

Mafalda Hopkirk pursed her lips and Hermione shuffled her feet nervously. It wasn't that she didn't want to offend the woman, because honestly, she could care less. It wasn't that she was worried about her reputation; everyone knew that Hermione Granger was a force to be reckoned with and worthy of praise as well as admiration. And she wasn't being vain, either. She just needed to remind herself that getting on this one woman's bad side wasn't going to ruin her for good. Besides, she had been on Hopkirk's bad side already for reasons that everyone else patted her on the back for. It wasn't her fault that Hopkirk had been available for polyjuice that day. What a coincidence that Hermione should attempt a career in that same woman's arena. Well, that was over now. She supposed if teaching really didn't work out, she could come back once Hopkirk retired (which should be within the next few years). In between, Hermione could find a temporary job. It shouldn't be too hard. She had stellar credentials. Anyway, was she ever even planning on pursuing a career as a teacher for real or was she just doing Professor McGonagall a favor? There must be more qualified Transfigurations professors out there. The Headmistress just didn't have time to find one right now with so many preparations to take care of, and since Hermione was such a recent graduate, she must have been at the forefront of the woman's mind.

Suddenly, she blinked back to the present to find that Hopkirk was still pursing her lips. It had only been a few seconds that all this had sprinted across Hermione's consciousness. "Very well, Miss Granger," Hopkirk said. "If that is your choice, I can do nothing to stop you. I hope that this is the right path for you. I have my doubts, but I'm sure there's nothing I can do to sway you at this point."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, though there was no feeling in the sentiment, "I've already owled Professor McGonagall and I'm sure the arrangements have already been made."

Hopkirk did not say a word, simply giving her a curt nod and returning to her paperwork. Hermione took this as a dismissal and left the office, heading toward her own. She put all her worries to rest by simply reminding herself that after this week, she would never have to deal with Mafalda Hopkirk ever again.

Relaxing at her desk, she wrote a quick note to Mr. Weasley giving him the news. She spent a good five minutes elaborately folding it into a paper crane and watched as it flew gracefully from her desk and into the corridor. She sighed wistfully.

A few minutes later, a paper plane dove through her door and landed on her desk just then, unfolding itself for her to read:

Hermione-

Wonderful! So proud of you! Just got "very important" memo - something about muggles. Meeting in 10, I'm sure Improper Use is involved. Good thing you're here through the end of the week to sort these kinds of things out for us! See you soon.

-Arthur Weasley

As she read the words, another plane flew into her office, but instead of landing on her desk as Mr. Weasley's had done, it insistently poked her in the forehead until she swiped it from the air like a snitch. All memos that were "very important" were enchanted to pummel their receivers this way. She uncrumpled the parchment:

All officials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement-

About 32 minutes ago, there was a breach in magical security. A number of highly influential muggles were witness to a definite source of magic. All muggles involved have been successfully obliviated by a group of hit wizards and aurors. However, the source is still unknown and could be capable of committing similar crimes because this was clearly not an accident. Meeting in conference room 119 in 7:29 minutes.

Hermione watched the seconds tick by on the memo, 28, 27, 26… This was not good. At least the muggles were apprehended and taken care of, but a lack of knowledge of the source was a serious problem. Gathering a fresh roll of parchment and a quill, she headed toward room 119 for the meeting. There were already a few witches and wizards gathered there. Conference room 119 was one of three conference rooms in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It happened to be the largest, which indicated to Hermione that it was likely that the entire Department was involved. She joined the clutch of officials, all of whom looked anxious and confused.

"How could they not know the source?" asked one man. Hermione thought she recognized him as a low-level Auror. "Doesn't Improper Use deal with this kind of thing every day?"

"We charge people with improper magic use based on location," explained a wizard who held an office three doors down from Hermione's own. "This occurred in a muggle area so we don't know who it could have been. When our people arrived on site, whoever was involved had probably fled already. What I'd like to know is why the aurors were unable to extract any answers from the muggles. Don't they do that kind of thing every day?"

Hermione stepped in before any more fingers were pointed; she sensed a duel coming on. "Whoever it was probably made sure the muggles didn't know who he or she or they were," she reasoned, the cogs in her mind whirring at lightning speed, "which suggests that they had a rather unusual agenda. Whatever they were trying to do, it clearly didn't succeed. From what I could tell of the note, there was no serious damage done so hopefully this is an isolated case."

More people arrived at the conference room and started to file in. Following the crowd, she took a seat at the back and prepared her parchment and poised her quill for note-taking. Her curiosity was successfully peaked by this dilemma.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to find Harry smiling down at her nervously. He took the seat beside her and ran his fingers through his unruly hair a few times. When Harry was nervous, it was never a good sign. "It's not good, Hermione," he whispered. "They didn't get a single lead."

She worried at her lip. Hopefully she'd glean something from this meeting. For some reason, she felt an insurmountable amount of pressure to solve this mystery and go out with a bang.

Just then, one of the top Aurors got up to address the group, "Good morning, everyone. Unfortunately, I can't give you any further information on this case quite yet. The Aurors that were on location should be back within the next couple of minutes. Dawlish, Proudfoot, Andrews, Savage, Pupp, Scarpin, Weasley, Griffiths, and Pritchard were sent to investigate and take care of the muggles. They'll brief us when they return."

The wizard sat down and a low murmur swept across the room.

"Why did they send Timothy and not you, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"They basically sent all of the best pairs out, which is why Ron went, but when they came to our cubicle, we were a bit swamped with some other cases we've been working on, so I stayed behind. Tim's a pro when it comes to obliviating people. Comes in handy," Harry grinned, an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Miss Granger," said a familiar voice above her. Hopkirk. Hermione cringed. "This meeting is going to cover some very important, confidential information. I don't believe that it is appropriate for you to be here, considering you're going to be leaving us so shortly."

"But I haven't left yet, ma'am," Hermione retorted, staring the woman in the eye, challenging her. There was no way she wasn't getting involved with this case.

"Still," Hopkirk was fishing for excuses, "As your superior, I am asking you to leave. Do not try me, Miss Granger, or I will have someone remove you by force."

"If I can't work, then what am I going to be doing for the rest of the week?" Hermione asked fretfully.

"I don't know. Pack up and leave today, if you must," Hopkirk suggested. There was a new malice in her voice. Hermione supposed it was something she had been suppressing ever since Hermione joined the office. "This information is just too sensitive for someone who isn't going to stick it out. I can't in good-conscience allow you to remain here."

Hermione stood up slowly, feeling numb. This was it then. She turned to leave.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Potter," she heard Hopkirk say, "If you breathe a word of this meeting to her, I will know and I will see to it that you are removed from your position." With that, the woman walked away, leaving a shaken Hermione and an angry Harry in her wake.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," Harry said. "I don't care what she says. I'll tell you everything today after work."

"Don't," she said, putting her hand up to stop him, "Don't risk your career for me. You guys can figure this out without me. I'll hear all about it when it's over and done with. I'm going to pack my things now."

She left room 119 and headed back toward her office, angry and frustrated that she was not being given a final chance to prove herself at the Ministry. As she headed down the hall, a group of men came rushing towards her, obviously headed to the room she came from. She spotted Ron among them and cursed her luck - if only Hopkirk hadn't seen her for an extra two minutes, she would have heard something of importance. She shouldn't have sat right at the back. As the group passed, a few eyebrows were raised, probably wondering why she was leaving the meeting. Ron, however, purposefully ignored her. Then they were gone.

The Improper Use of Magic Wing was deserted; she was the only person who had not been allowed to attend. She entered her office and looked around one last time before grabbing a box and tearing down everything she owned from the walls and packing it away. She went through her desk and removed all of her belongings. By the time she was done, she was slightly out of breath. She felt a little bit better, and as she walked to the Atrium, she was visibly calmer. She flooed back to her flat with her box (she had shrunk all of the objects inside so they could fit comfortably) and collapsed on the couch, tears pricking her eyes. She needed to get out and do something to get her mind off this just for a couple hours until the sting wore off. Harry was at the meeting, of course, as was Ron, who still wasn't speaking to her, anyway. Ginny would probably be too interested in the case when Hermione told her the story, and she just didn't want to think about it right now. Neville would be with Professor Sprout working in the greenhouses. All of their other friends - Dean, Luna, Seamus, the rest of the Weasleys, even Parvati and Lavender - all had jobs and would be out working right now. Except Luna, but she was always out and about doing whatever strange things popped into her mind. She didn't know how grounded, practical Dean put up with it so well.

She sighed. Without a distraction, all of her problems seemed magnified; the smallest of issues became giant. She needed to resolve her fight with Ron. What if she couldn't adjust to her new job? Would working at Hogwarts be strange? Painful, even? Did she make a mistake leaving the Minsitry? She really wanted to know the details of this case... Wait. Giant. Hagrid! She owed him a visit and he was the perfect person to make her feel better. He didn't ask too many questions and his easy going nature relaxed her. She checked her watch. If she left now, she'd be able to apparate to Hogsmeade and walk to his hut to be there by 1:00. Just in time for lunch, which she would politely decline. It was about the companionship and company, anyway. Grabbing something to eat for the walk, she disapparated.

Hogsmeade had been rather empty, probably because it was a weekday, though there had been a few people mingling about, presumably on their lunch hour. Hermione now stood before the door of Hagrid's hut, readying herself for the onslaught of slobber that would be Fang. She knocked purposefully and heard some low muttering from within. "Who's there?" he called skeptically through the door.

"It's Hermione!" she called.

The door banged open and just as she expected, Fang bounded over and licked her furiously until Hagrid managed to pull him off. He pulled her inside and sat her down at the table. He immediately went into the kitchen to start fixing some sort of lunch concotion. Hermione felt supremely guilty.

"Hagrid, that's quite all right," she hesitantly explained, "I've already eaten."

"Nonsense!" he said gruffly. "Wasn' expecting visitors at this time o' year!"

"Well, I have some big news!" Hermione revealed excitedly, knowing that Hagrid was going to be floored.

"Well, I've heard abou' Harry and Ginny, if tha's what you've come ter share," Hagrid turned around to smile at her. "I knew it was only a matter o' time before he proposed!"

"Nope, something else," Hermione said, smiling widely. Her expectation of Hagrid's reaction was completely wiping away the memory of her anger that had been so potent only an hour ago. "Maybe not quite as big, but definitely hitting closer to home for you!"

"Wha' could be closer to home than a new baby in the Potter clan?" Hagrid mused. Hermione noticed that his cheeks were red and he looked as jolly as Saint Nick himself. "Tha' baby is goin' ter be the most cared fer baby in the entire wizarding world!"

"It sure is," Hermione said. "And I'm so relieved that they're planning the wedding for December!"

"Why's that?" Hagrid asked, puzzled.

"Well, it's not just students that get off for December holidays, right?" she asked innocently. "Professors do too, don't we?"

"Are yeh saying what I think yeh're sayin'?" Hagrid asked, eyes growing wide.

Hermione just nodded and suddenly, she was picked up and wrapped in a bone-crushing hug. After about a minute, she felt something wet on her shoulder.

"Hagrid… are you crying?"

He released her, setting her down on the floor. Fang trotted over and licked her toes in his own form of congratulations. Hagrid's little black eyes were shining with fresh tears, many of which had gotten caught in his tangled beard, sparkling like diamonds. He tried to wipe his face, but it didn't help all that much. Hermione walked him over to the table to sit.

"It's j-jus', I always knew one day yeh'd be back here," Hagrid said. "Hogw-warts, it isn' the same without yeh'. Yeh'll be a great teacher, Hermione. Are yeh takin' over fer McGonagall?"

"Transfigurations, yes," she nodded, smiling brightly. Hagrid's praise meant the world to her.

"Well, congratulations," he patted her heavily on the shoulder. She fought to remain standing on the strong impact that she knew he hadn't meant. It was the irony of Hagrid's existence; he appeared so large and dangerous, but in reality, he was gentle and might as well have been small as a mouse. Other than his love of ferocious beasts, his body did no justice to his personality. Hermione was ever-grateful that Fang suffered the same fate, because she knew she wouldn't visit Hagrid half as much if he had ended up keeping Norbert as a pet instead.

"So yeh'll be here nex' week?" Hagrid asked. "Tha's good. I think it's good, this idea of hers. It'll get all the faculty working as a team. I think she'll be a very efficien' headmistress, though no one could top Dumbledore, o' course."

Hermione silently agreed.

"I almos' forgot! I was preparin' something!" Hagrid hurried back into the kitchen. Hermione waited patiently, a bit nervous about what he would bring back with him.

He returned with his famous rock cakes and a kettle of tea. Hermione pretended to pick at a cake but drank the tea liberally as not to offend him. "So tell me about teaching here," she prompted. "I mean, I think I have an idea, but I'd like to hear a faculty member's opinions, and I know I can trust your judgment."

Hagrid beamed. "I guess it's ev'rything yeh'd expect, really," he said, shrugging. "Very rewarding but sometimes exhausting at the same time."

She still wasn't sure what to expect come September, and she was even feeling a bit apprehensive about the faculty week McGonagall was planning. "Do you think," she paused, trying to phrase this properly, "that I'll have trouble commanding the attention of the students due to my age?"

"Not at all," Hagrid responded without hesitation. Then added, "If Malfoy can do it, you certainly can."

Ah, yes. Malfoy, her soon-to-be colleague. She wondered how that would play out. She just pushed the thought out of her mind. It wasn't like they'd need to have anything to do with each other, really. Two different subjects, two different floors in the building. She'd just make sure she didn't end up sitting anywhere near him at the Head Table.

"Tha's goin' ter be rough, maybe," Hagrid observed. "You shoulda seen him last year. All tha' publicity he was getting? Youngest professor in however-many-years. All wen' ter his head." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Though I have heard, and don' get mad at me fer this, but I hear he's a decent teacher."

"I can imagine," Hermione said, blandly, "he'd be just like Snape, favoring the Slytherins and hurling insults at everyone else in that dungeon of his."

"There's some o' that," Hagrid admitted, "But from what some o' the other professors have told me (since I don't really make it a point ter talk ter Malfoy), the students do well in his class and they seem to like his sense o' humor, if tha's what they're callin' it these days. And he certainly has the female students followin' his ev'ry move."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course the girls at Hogwarts would love having Malfoy as a professor. But she had heard some accusations that left a pink tinge to her face.

"Do you think any of those rumors are true?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno," Hagrid said. "I don' think so, though. It's been spreadin' all over, and if it were true, some parents would have something to say to the Board o' Governors, and he wouldn' be back this year."

Hermione pondered this for a moment. Despite all the hate she possessed for Malfoy, she thought that he at least had the dignity and respect for his family name not to pull something like that. She hoped for his sake that it wasn't true, otherwise she would sincerely pity him.

The rest of the afternoon passed by pleasantly. Hermione always enjoyed spending time with Hagrid. She even managed to slip two rock cakes under the table to Fang while Hagrid wasn't looking. It had been a good visit. She had almost entirely forgotten the events of that morning.

When it was time to leave, she briefly considered flooing from Neville's just to stop in and say hi, but she remembered that Ron would most likely be there, too. That was not something she wanted to deal with right now. She did not want her good mood ruined. Instead, she apparated directly back to her flat and hurriedly fixed dinner. She hadn't realized how hungry she was after a long, foodless afternoon.