Guilt

Magic of Greengrass Children Stolen By National Institutions

Exclusive report by Betty Braithwaite

Two cases will go to court next month that address the worst crime known to wizardkind. Diggorys vs. St Mungo's and Malfoys vs. Hogwarts both accuse the institutions of stealing magic from their children. Daphne Diggory (neé Greengrass), distressed mother of one of the affected children, shared her experience. "Our daughter was an exceptionally powerful baby until she was admitted to St Mungo's. They took her magic, and she's just not the same any more." The Malfoys make the same charge against Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in case of their son, who struggled to finish his first year in June. "Up until now we thought that the Unforgivables were the most heinous of crimes. But what Hogwarts and St Mungo's did is even more despicable. It threatens the very foundation of our society, and they must be stopped," Astoria Malfoy (neé Greengrass) adds to her sister's claim.

While we might dispute the relative evils of the comparison of murder to magic theft, we agree that magic is an inherent element of our world and its loss, whether forced or spontaneous, must be addressed by the best experts we have. Healer Stimpson and Headmaster Penrose were not available to comment. Read more about magical theft on page 5.

Severus threw the Daily Prophet away in disgust. He got up, his chair protesting, and set off to take a walk around the department.

His third that morning.

Hermione was still nowhere to be seen.

He planned to catch her before they got immersed in work to continue their talk. He wanted to know when they would be able to be together outside the Ministry. He had plenty of ideas for such interactions.

He was on the far side of the department when the elevator chimed. He turned to see Hermione make a beeline straight for his office, the newspaper gripped in her hand.

"Severus?"

He walked towards her. "Here."

"Hi. I thought you were out."

"On my way," he lied. "It can wait. What did you have in mind?"

"Have you seen this?" Hermione waved the paper at him.

"Do you mean the Greengrasses' stupidity or the insinuation on page five that the Muggle-borns siphon pure-blood magic?"

"Both. What do you think?" she asked as they entered his office.

Severus's hand hovered above the small of her back. Before he could touch her, Hermione turned to close the door behind them.

Severus sat on the edge of his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

"Is it that bad?"

"Why would you ask?"

"Your expression." Hermione sat on the nearest chair. She looked up to him, exposing her throat. "It's murderous."

He looked somewhat lower than her eyes, then turned and sat down behind his desk. She seemed inclined to use office hours for work at the moment, so he thought it best to do the same.

"Talking to the press was ultimately stupid of our esteemed clients. St Mungo's and Hogwarts are bound to bring charges of slander. The insinuation against Muggle-borns? Yes, that makes me rather violent."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "One would think that two decades after the war, people would change their prejudices."

"That's naïve, Hermione."

"Still. One can hope."

"How did your blood bank visit go last night?"

"We call it Life Bank not a Blood Bank as you well know. But thanks for reminding me. Little Lorcan seems to be another child with disappearing magic."

Severus's eyebrows shot high on his forehead, his mind moving rapidly. They had assumed that the loss of magic was linked to the Greengrass sisters. Something inheritable, or the like. A child from another family with the same condition was a major new development. "That changes things."

"Tell me about it. I couldn't sleep last night. We thought it was just the Greengrasses. Do you know if they're related to either Luna or Rolf?"

Severus shook his head. "Not that I can recall, but effectively all pure-bloods are interrelated to some degree."

"Could you check?"

"What happened to my evening off?"

"Well," Hermione fidgeted. "I'll be very busy the next few days with Life Bank, so I thought. You know. Don't you?"

Severus sighed. He knew.

Hermione opened her mouth to continue, but Severus stopped her. "I'll do it, woman. Just don't start to beg now."

---

Severus spent the next few days completely out of sight.

Hermione received a note from him soon after their meeting stating that the Greengrasses were related neither to the Scamanders nor to the Lovegoods for the last five generations. No word since then. She expected that he would at least acknowledge their talk the other night, but the last time they met, he had stayed focused only on work. Perhaps, she has misjudged him and he was not interested in her the way she thought. He seemed genuine enough, but now there was no sight or sound from him.

The second owl landed on her windowsill the night before the first case was scheduled to present before the Wizengamot.

She unfolded the note in haste as soon as she recognised his handwriting.

We need to talk. Meet me at my office as soon as you can, he wrote.

She hurried to his office at the Ministry. A greeting died on her lips.

The office was empty.

Her shoulders sank as she walked further in. She brushed the top of his desk with her fingertips, tracing the contours of his inkwells and quills. She sat down in his chair, laying her head on her forearms.

"Been waiting long?" Severus asked.

"Oi." Hermione startled.

"Sorry. There didn't seem to be much point in knocking on my own office door."

"No problem. I was thinking." She rubbed her eyes. "So?"

"Thirty-seven children between ages four and twelve that I could identify. Follow me."

He gestured for her to join him.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Including three Weasleys and two Potters. Get going. You need to see for yourself."

"Merlin's fucking balls." Hermione gathered her senses and got up, straightening her shirt and skirt.

Severus's eyes followed her hands down her torso and hips.

"Since when do you swear?"

"Seems like a perfect time to start."

"Indeed. Let's go."

They walked to the elevator and Severus summoned it. Looking at the deep crease between his eyebrows, she bit her lip. All this time he'd been looking for the affected children, and she felt ashamed of herself for wishing he was with her instead. There must be a different mechanism that causes loss of magic in children. He knew more, and from his expression she was sure it was nothing pleasant.

"Severus," she whispered.

He shook his head and motioned for her to follow him into the elevator.

"Not here. Wait until we get there," he said, reaching over to pressed the correct button.

"I wanted to ask how you are."

He looked at her. "People could hear."

"It's all right."

"I see," he said just as the elevator halted. "We're here."

They walked a short distance when Severus reached for a door and opened it. A simple desk blocked the width of the door frame, a stocky wizard sitting behind it facing them.

"You again?" The wizard scowled.

Severus nodded and whipped his wand to show the logo of his department. The wizard at the desk made a note into his logbook.

"Her?"

Hermione took out her wand, and the same logo slipped out of it. "Hermione Granger, Head of Office for Governmental Control."

She had never noticed this door. It looked unremarkable, and there was only a small, plain plate stating they had reached the Magical Activity Archive. She suspected that the door might even be equipped with a Notice-Me-Not Charm.

The wizard finished writing, got up and disappeared from their sight on the other side of the doorway. They heard a bit of fumbling, then the tip of a wand hooked at the doorframe. The whole doorway started to widen, following the pull of the wand. When the motion ended, they saw the reception wizard sitting on his desk, holding the doorframe away from the desk with the tip of his wand in his outstretched arm.

"What are you waiting for?" he grumbled.

Severus ducked under the arm. Hermione watched with a surprised expression, but seeing Severus disappear, she followed without further delay.

The room they entered looked like a hybrid between a grand library and the Room of Hidden Things. Rows of shelves were labelled with years dating back centuries.

Hermione spotted an elf with muscular arms disappear between shelves. She found it peculiar to see a nursing elf deep down at the Ministry of Magic. She was almost certain there were no children to take care of down here.

Severus led her in the same direction the elf disappeared. When they arrived at the row, the elf squeaked and snapped his fingers, Disapparating.

Severus approached a tucked-away desk, unwarded a drawer and threw a folder on top. Hermione reached for it.

"The degree of deterioration is variable, but these children manifest a marked decrease in frequency of reports of spontaneous magic."

"What data is this?" Hermione leafed through the files, scanning each page, stopping to take a closer look at each graph. Each was scaled differently, but every one showed a descending curve. She figured it was a demonstration of magical loss, but she could not picture how such data were assembled.

"The Magical Activity Archive."

"You mentioned that before. That's where instances of underage magic get recorded, right? Perhaps it's not reliable for children from magical families. As far as I know, the Ministry," Hermione looked over her shoulder to check the reception wizard, "can track general magic, but they cannot distinguish underage magic from adults in magical families. Can they?"

"They're two separate things. The wizard over there records underage magic of Muggle-borns, issuing warnings for those attending Hogwarts once they've begun their magical training. The children from magical families are reported by their elves."

"Every instance? That seems like a waste of effort. Who would need such data?"

"I don't appreciate that you are trying to challenge me on this, Hermione."

"Severus, don't take offense. It wasn't meant like that. Any attorney would ask about the validity of the data. This is major. You must realise. And the hearing's tomorrow."

"Of course. The elves report underage magic of children in their care directly to the registry. They're obliged to put a record of each instance of spontaneous magic into the child's file from where it'd spur a note in Hogwarts's enrollment list for example. The rule of recording every instance is probably historical, a remnant of some old quarrel, I'd suspect. Given the reliability of nursing elves, I'd expect the records to be exhaustive. Perhaps, pending the one we just scared away."

"I see. So we really have thirty-seven children that someone is turning into Squibs. Severus, that's horrible."

He nodded.

"Whoever is doing this picks the most well-off families. They must be stopped."

"I was about to hand the case over to the Aurors, but I wanted to talk to you first," Severus said.

"I appreciate it. It won't help at the Wizengamot tomorrow, but we knew the Diggorys would lose their case. Gosh, it's terrifying. I know these children, and – fucking Azkaban."

"You do?"

"From the Life Bank." A thought surfaced in her mind for a moment, too clear for comfort. But it dissolved, leaving only numb disbelief.

"I have to go and get ready now." She started to get up.

"One more thing." Severus stopped her.

There was something just out her consciousness that her mind was trying to tell her.

"May I check the list of Life Bank's clients? Against the magic registry?"

The feeling was there, brighter than before. She tried to figure out what it meant. The culprit might be specifically targeting her clients. Corporate spy? "Oh. You think?"

"I think we should cover all contingencies."

"Sure. My left bottom drawer. Password is 'Potions Professor'." Hermione blushed.

"It's confidential information."

"Yes. Well. It's out in the open now."

"That, too." He gave her a small smile. "I meant the list."

"Right. But if we're dealing with a corporate spy here... You may look at it. I trust you," she said.

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A/N: Beta-read by saschia and pyjamapants, adminned by Clairvoyant, banner created by brandy01. Thank you for your help.