Chapter Text
September 13, 1999
Dear Diary,
Is it silly to say ‘dear diary’? I am actually, officially, an employed adult right now. Do grown ups keep diaries, or do I have to call this a journal or something else sophisticated? Anyway. NEW JOB! I am writing as one of only two successful candidates on the impossible-to-get-into, absolute guarantee-of-future-career-success Wizengamot Trainee Clerk Programme!!
Me!
The other person? Theodore Nott. Theodore Nott.
Was a bit awkward when I bumped into him in the lobby, mainly because I had no idea he’d even applied. Definitely had kept to himself last year (not surprisingly), but still. Madame Pince never told me someone else from Hogwarts was going for it. Obviously was professional despite my surprise, and not at all apprehensive because he’s so bloody posh.
He’s got stupidly good hair though, must get up extra early just to apply charms or potions or something. Maybe I’ll start doing that tomorrow. Now that I’m a professional grown up who has no problems whatsoever and does everything perfectly.
It was actually fine, in the end. We’re not in the same team, even though ours sit across from each other on the 6th floor. We have to share a cubicle, which again, will be totally fine. He’s got very posh loafers, which must have cost a fortune. Maybe I can borrow them some time.
The boss is absolutely terrifying. We’re both assigned to two of the most senior members of the Wizengamot, which I was really excited about. A bit bleakly, that turned out to mean ‘whoever had survived’. Yep. The entire place is basically in chaos, even though it has been a year since the Battle.
When I told Dad I’d got a job in Government (muggle, obviously, we haven’t gotten to revealing the wizarding world yet - although the fact that he knows about the muggle government is a good sign according to the healers), he just snorted and said he hoped I enjoyed red tape and not getting anything done.
I can see where he’s coming from a bit, not that I want to dismiss my colleagues or anything. None of them look like they’ve slept in months. Hoping this will not be my fate (have been warned already by Chrishen - another colleague - that it absolutely will be my fate).
We’re now gearing up to process the surviving Death Eaters ( alleged Death Eaters, sorry), as they still haven’t been sentenced. Most of the other departments in the Ministry are also in similar states of disarray, or at least that’s what Harry has told me. It also doesn’t help that lots of people have just died and there just aren’t…enough people to do the vast amounts of work that rebuilding a society requires. Yep! Bleak!
But, now I get to help! I definitely don’t regret returning to Hogwarts to finish my NEWTS (am I allowed to brag in my diary? Record-breaking marks!), but there were definitely moments that I started to chafe at not being in the real world. Luckily, McGonagall allowed me to help put together the rebuilding Hogwarts initiative, even if she also tried to get me to call her Minerva. Can you imagine ?
What was I even talking about? Oh - my boss. Juniper Medley. Older, a bit frizzy-haired (I know, I know. Not like I can talk).
Better than the alternative - Harold Purgiss is Theodore’s. He’s got this enormous moustache and a nose the colour of Bordeaux. Medley is clearly the superior committee member, even if she’s also clearly bloody terrifying. Hoping I won’t have to have much contact with her until I figure out what the hell I’m supposed to be doing.
The absolute best part of it all though was when Delilah Burrows (HR) pulled us aside and explained we get to manage the fundraising efforts for the department. Which ! I can’t wait. Have to coordinate all the different teams, ensure each dept actually raises funds, AND we get to pick the charity ourselves. According to Burrows, last year’s bunch were ‘a bit useless’.
Theodore did point out that there had been a war.
“So you will be expected to be more successful,” she said, ignoring this excuse entirely. “Although you do get to choose which charity we support. Miss Granger, I really can’t express enough that you do not have to raise your hand. You are not at school anymore.”
(Obviously I know this, but old habits die hard. It’s only been a few months, really).
“Sorry,” I said. “What kind of activities -”
“Whatever you want. I don’t care. As long as its legal, and you can raise 5000 Galleons -”
“Five thousand?!” Our mouths dropped. Five thousand galleons! Wish I had 5,000 galleons. God, at this point I wish I had five . Cannot wait to get paid.
“Yes. Do whatever you like.” Burrows got a bit snippy, she clearly does not care very much for charitable endeavours.
“Do these contribute to our hours?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Nott,” the elder witch snorted. “These will be additional. Any further questions, send me a memo and Charity will get back to you.”
Then she disappeared and left us to it. We shared a small smirk at the irony of her assistant being called Charity, and then he pointed out that I had cat hair down the side of my robe, so I stopped feeling friendly towards him.
“We should talk about who we want to raise money for. I’m assuming some kind of war charity,” he then said, as we started to walk back to our desks.
“Yeah,” I replied, “I mean, everyone needs money at the moment.”
Including me. We don’t get paid until after the first month of work. At this point I’m existing off the fumes in my very empty bank account. Cannot borrow money from Harry, I refuse.
“We should pick a smaller charity. Something which might get overlooked.” Theo said, and in the spirit of good sportsmanship, I said that was a good idea.
“I know.” He replied. What a prick. Really don’t remember him being this much of a wanker at school. Well, I don’t remember much of him being anything at school, he was always very quiet. Maybe this is his actual personality, and even he knows it's abhorrent so tries to hide it from as many people as possible?
No. That's a horrid thing to say. I’m a sophisticated career woman, and I don’t need to bitch about my colleagues.
I just need to figure out how I can get him to agree to S.P.E.W. being the official charity.
To Do List:
- Go over S.P.E.W. organisation notes. Update any docs?
- Fundraising plan!
- Chat to other depts re: charity events
- Reply to letters
- Figure out a cat hair repelling spell that actually works for Crook’s fur
14 September
Dear Diary, Diary,
Look at me! Updating regularly!
Today was mental. They’ve clearly decided that one day initiation was enough, and now it’s time to get stuck in. Which obviously, I love. Still, it’s a bit daunting.
Theodore also just acts so cool, calm and collected all the time. I tried to do some sort of hair charm for my curls this morning but it had already worn off by lunch, and I barely had time to go to the loo, let alone try and update it. Will try again tomorrow.
Did some stuff for girl-Sam today, which was a bit of a nightmare. There are two Sam’s in my team, and both of them refuse to lengthen their names for some long-running grudge reason. Apparently they both joined in the same year.
Anyway, girl-Sam yanked me down to the copying room basically as soon as I arrived (before Theodore).
“These need to be copied sixteen times each. I've got a list of the different spells that need to be imbued into each one. Bit fiddly, but we’ve got a mixed jury so -”
I had to break into a jog to follow her down the corridor towards the room.
Guess how long a simple copying spell took? Over an hour. An hour! By the end I’d shed my robes, unbuttoned my blouse because I’d gotten all sweaty, and yes, ruined my hair.
I was also humiliated. Look, when the papers are calling you the ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age,’ but you can’t even get a copying spell correct, it makes you feel a bit rubbish.
And then I felt guilty for feeling rubbish, because the spell was to ensure the copied documents could be read easily by all members of the jury - some people with sight impairments, some are dyslexic, etc., and here’s me moaning about having to make the work accessible. I am a terrible person. Still, there’s got to be a verison of the spell which has less precise wand movements? One of my versions ended up this bizarre rainbow, but all the important bits were yellow, which is obviously the worst colour to read.
I need to figure it out soon, though, because Theodore and I are mainly going to be working on these small-scale issues to try and clear the backlog before the alleged Death Eater trials start. And when I say backlog, I mean backlog. So many mini councils hearing claims, all with so many newly-elected officials. Chrishen was telling me in the kitchen that it’s going to be a shitshow for a bit. I can’t tell if he’s trying to be helpful, or if he’s trying to scare me. Apparently Voldemort’s regime really messed up the already-a-bit-shoddy bureaucratic processes.
It’s shocking, really, that an evil dictator would have such little regard for process and paperwork.
Chrishen is great, though, even if he rivals Theodore’s loafer game. I think the ones he was wearing today were emerald green alligator skin? Don’t know when I got so obsessed with shoes, but I do know that whatever last-minute shopping I did over the summer definitely wasn’t enough. Feel a bit awkward about being the shabbiest person in the office. It shouldn’t matter! Ugh. Hate being a grown up. And a woman. My feet are killing me, even with cushioning charms. Need to get better at those too.
To do:
- Cushioning charms
- Copying charms
- Just revise all office-related charms (is there a book for this? Ron owes me a birthday present, could request that?)
- Still haven’t figured out cat hair charm either
- Charity stuff! Don’t forget!
17 September
Friday, FINALLY.
Don’t know what happened to the rest of the week, everything really got out of hand after Tuesday. The internal magical system, which is centrally supported by some spell framework (? look this up, boy-Sam’s explanation was nonsensical), broke down, and so basically Theodore and I had to spend the entire day being messengers, running memos between floors.
Wish I had worn bloody trainers, instead of trying to Make an Effort. Hair charms still aren’t lasting beyond a few hours, either.
Barely saw Theodore, except for brief moments when we were clattering down the stairs. Our inboxes are, quite frankly, disgusting. Need to figure out some sort of filing system, because at the moment papers just appear without me having any idea what they are.
Because we’d spent the whole day running up and down the stairs, we then had to stay for hours after just so we could get a handle on our normal work. Had to tell Gin and Harry I was going to miss dinner, and I’d already missed our Wednesday film night so am feeling guilty. Hoping I can make it up to them on the weekend - maybe I’ll bake a cake or something.
On the plus-side, I found a great feet-freshening charm that means I can sneak my shoes off when I’m in my cubicle without worrying about smelling the whole place out. On the minus-side, Theodore popped up as soon as I had done that, so now he thinks I’m some sort of feral freak who takes her shoes off in the office.
“Do you have time to discuss this charity thing then?” He said, as if he’s the only one thinking about it.
“Great, yeah now works for me. I was actually thinking, when I was filing, about what we could choose,” I lied. Obviously, I knew as soon as Deirdre brought it up I wanted to put forward S.P.E.W. I don’t know anything about Theodore’s beliefs, so he could be deeply anti-creature. I mean, his dad was a Death Eater, so it wasn’t like I had my hopes up. However, what's the point in even being here, working my way up, if I can’t make a difference!
“I don’t know if you remember,” I said, “but I actually set up a charity during Hogwarts that was to do with elf rights. Anyway, I know that Voldemort,” (Theodore flinched - interesting) “was anti-creature, and the biases against creature rights go so deep in wizarding society anyway, they’re super likely to be looked over. It might be the perfect fit.”
There was a pause.
“Spunk?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Wasn’t it called SPUNK, or something? We can’t support a charity that’s named after semen, Granger.”
I mean. Come on. Spunk? It’s not even close.
“S.P.E.W,” I told him. “It’s called Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare.”
“Right. I’m not convinced.”
“Well, what’s your idea?” I said, only a little bit frostily.
“Creature rights.” The cheek of this man. Har de har.
“Are you -”
“I’m just messing around. I think we should go for St. Mungo’s.”
Yeah. Obviously, I wanted to move on from this. Last thing I need is for people to think I’m using my parents for sob-story cash. Or to even find out that they’re there in the first place. I know it's been a year, but there are still plenty of nutters out there. There’s no way in hell I’m letting the news of them being there, get out.
“They have a lot of support already,” I said.
“Yeah, but they’ll need more. Plus, it would be a good political alignment. St. Mungo’s, the Wizengamot. Building blocks of the new world.”
I told him it was too obvious, which he really didn’t like.
“I’m not going to just roll over and do what you want.”
“It’s not what I want - it’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, for you. What’s in it for me?”
“It’s for charity, Theodore. There’s not supposed to be anything -”
“Oh pull the other one. We’ve left Hogwarts, we don’t need any of that House bullshit anymore. It’s a great move for you: your charity, your cause, your idea. What am I going to get out of it?”
I know. He actually said that. So I asked him, after a bit of gawping (from me, unfortunately), what he wanted out of it, if he let me put S.P.E.W. forward.
And actually, he went all serious.
“I want you to testify at Draco’s trial.”
Yep. My heart did that little thud-splutter thing, while he launched into a defence of his pal.
“I’m not trying to say he was a brilliant person or totally innocent either. I’m just saying, he was a kid. We all were. And he shouldn’t go to prison for stuff his family forced him to do.”
Honestly, I hadn’t realised they were particularly close. Then again, Harry constantly nearly dying had been fairly distracting.
“I know you’re probably not going to believe me, but I swear, he didn’t kill Dumbledore, Snape -”
“Dumbledore killed Dumbledore,” I interrupted, like an idiot. Is that secret? I can’t remember.
“...What?”
Unfortunately, I’d said it now, and it must have been the exhaustion or something because I just couldn’t close my mouth.
“On the roof. Harry was there. He saw everything.”
“Potter was -”
“Look, I know what happened that night. Snape and Dumbledore were working together. Dumbledore was already dying.”
Theodore was gaping like a fish. Really hoping this is not secret and I haven’t broken the law by telling him. And then writing it down. Oh, God. A week in my law-making job and I’ve already potentially broken it. Will leave the page after blank in case I need to rip these out and burn the evidence.
“You can’t tell anyone that,” I told him.
“I honestly don’t have anyone who I’d tell.”
I did feel a bit sorry for him - he was clearly telling the truth. “Right. Well. Anyway. I know he didn’t kill Dumbledore. I know he’s not a killer.”
“Yeah. Good. Okay. So, you can probably agree that Azkaban is probably a bit mental, even if he is a bit of an arsehole. His father -”
“Was a controlling, narcissistic wanker.”
“Er, yeah. Exactly.”
I waited for him to go on, while he did that stare-y thing at me again. I was mainly enjoying seeing him be a bit speechless.
“Continue.”
“That’s - I mean - I don’t think he deserves to be punished for a series of actions he was forced into by a neglectful father who was more interested in power than his son’s life. If you testify on his behalf, he’s much more likely to get off with a pardon and some house restrictions. Lucius is a goner, but Draco can have a fresh start.”
I know I’m a terrible person, because I let him stew for a bit. Probably slightly too long to be kind.
“You’ll have to pull your weight.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m not doing all the organising myself.”
“Obviously not.”
“We’ll do all the fundraising together.”
“Of course.”
“Right. Well. I suppose that I am amenable. Should we shake?”
“We should,” he nodded, formally, sticking his hand out to me. He’s got a good handshake, I’ll say that much.
“Cheers, Granger.”
“My pleasure, Theodore.”
“It’s Theo.”
“It’s Hermione.”
“Touché.”
And then! He offered to make me a cup of tea! (He put a tiny bit too much milk in, but I won’t hold it against him.)
The whole thing made me want to laugh a bit. I’d obviously decided months ago to testify for Malfoy. Harry and I are going in together. Ron doesn’t want to, but that’s fair enough. I’m not going to force him. Besides, he’d probably say something that accidentally made it worse, like admitting to a Court that he’s a total wanker. God - really need to reply to his letter.
To do:
- Research the internal magical system Wizengamot uses
- Cake ingredients
- Fundraising ideas!
- Inbox filing system spell? Try and find that ‘office charms’ book!!
- Reply to Ron! <3
- Cat hair :(