Chapter Text
Hermione ducked behind a barrel in the shadow of a dilapidated building. Fog swirled around her legs as readjusted, keeping the cloaked figure in her line of sight. Once a bustling shipyard, this section of London was long abandoned. The calm silence occasionally broken by the creaking of old wood and the soft banging of a loose shutter. Anyone doing business here had good reason to avoid being seen.
From her hiding spot, she watched as the figure removed their wand and cast an unknown spell before quickly dipping into the entryway of the building. Sneaking closer, she felt the minor nagging sensation of a Muggle-Repelling Charm. She grimaced and pressed on. The rest of her half-blood team wouldn't feel it, but she did. The ability had come in handy quite a few times, and was often one of the first indicators of illegal activity. She held up her hand in warning, signalling them to remain alert for any dangerous protective spells that may be in place.
The types of wizards she was hunting often forgot (or overlooked) that Muggle-borns were able to sense Muggle-Repelling Charms. They arrogantly believed that it was impossible for them to be taken down by a Muggle-born like her, and didn’t think twice about using the charm. And so it was that Dark wizards' disdain for witches like her often became their undoing. She smiled darkly with grim satisfaction.
Her team moved into position as she edged along the wall. When she was as close as she could be without exposing herself, she raised her hand in a signal to hold, listening closely to her Muggle earpiece. It was one of the pieces of Muggle-tech that was now common-place in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. While initially suspicious, Hermione had gradually won her fellow Auror's over as they realised how useful Muggle tech like earpieces, wires, and even computers could be in policing. In her early days at the DMLE, Dean Thomas had given her an Extendable Ear for use on a mission and she had laughed until she cried. As she wiped her eyes, she realised he was serious and had apologised profusely. Bluetooth earpieces were commonplace in the department now, though some of the more grizzled Aurors still resisted, claiming they were too difficult to use. The wizarding world was advanced in many ways, but the absence of many conveniences still surprised her, especially in terms of communications technology. Muggles, however, had multiple forms of instantaneous communications that could fit into your pocket and required much less clean up (owl pellets were disgusting — the main reason she refused to own one). She couldn’t wait for the day that more wizards realised these benefits and Muggle technology became more widespread.
Over her earpiece, she picked up a gruff male voice that called out in greeting and her focus returned to the mission. “As promised, a full unicorn horn tea set. The damage I mentioned is just here, but it doesn’t affect the overall function.”
“This is truly a remarkable find. You said these were from one of the estates?” said another voice. This one was smoother, aristocratic, lightly accented and drawling.
“Course,” the gruff voice affirmed. “When things went pear-shaped after the war, the Dark Lord’s supporters — those who were smart anyway — left the country without packing their spare robes, leaving the rest of us to hang. At least they left us with some way to make money, even if it is by digging through their leftovers,” he spat bitterly.
“I bear no ill-will towards any who lost their family legacy in the wake of the Dark Lord’s fall, though it is regrettable that their actions have made life more difficult for those of us committed to maintaining the old ways.” The voice sounded vaguely disinterested.
“Trust me, mate, I’m giving you a deal here. I guarantee you won’t find a better price on anything like this, post-war. This could very well be the only set left in existence.” He sounded nervous, like he was concerned about losing the sale. “You know, they were quite the sign of high society, especially among the Sacred Twenty-Eight several centuries ago, and this set is really remarkably maintained for its age.”
An exacerbated sigh. “I’m not here to barter with you like some weak-blooded wastrel. Don’t insult me.”
“I’m sorry mate, it’s just that after the Reparations, most folks…” There was a beat of silence as the gruff voice trailed off, realising his rambling wasn’t helping the situation. “Here’s the account number." A pause. "Thank you, and give me a shout if there’s anything in particular you’re looking for in the future.”
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
Hermione gave the signal. Without looking, she knew the two Aurors behind her had immediately begun casting an anti-Apparition barrier, something that the seller would notice any moment now. They had a tendency to bugger off quickly once they completed their business.
“Ah, bloody hell!” The gruff voice had a tinge of panic to it.
Yep, right on schedule.
Her Deprime blasted a large hole into the wall on her right. The entire area was condemned, and she needed this to be over quickly. Encounters in Muggle London were always high risk, due to the potential for casualties and exposure.
Amid a shower of rotten wood, Hermione stepped into the room, taking in the scene and levelling her wand at her target. The undercover Auror already had his wand drawn and trained on the man as well.
“Excellent work, Courtenay,” she complimented the owner of the aristocratic voice.
The young wizard blushed under her praise. The man never so much as broke a sweat undercover, but as soon as he stepped out of a role, he was easily flustered. Courtenay wasn’t a pureblood, but he had a knack for mimicking accents and made a very convincing aristocratic pureblood — something they made use of frequently in their undercover investigative work.
Hermione turned to their target, who was having magical restraints applied to his arms. “Adrian Pucey, you are being arrested for possession and trafficking of Dark Artefacts in violation of Article III of the Diggory Reformation Act. You will be taken into custody and your wand confiscated while you await Wizengamot review in pursuance with Wizarding law.”
Pucey looked put out more than anything else as Courtenay relieved him of his wand and checked his restraints in preparation for Apparition.
“I mean honestly,” Pucey whinged, “they’re more of a problem left out where anyone could nick them in abandoned manors. I’m doing a service if you think about it.”
“Save it for the Wizengamot, Pucey.” She tuned him out and his protests cut off as Courtenay Apparated them both to the DMLE holding cells.
“Thomas. McCoy,” she barked out. “Sweep the area for Muggles and meet me back at HQ. Adams, crack on with the report. I want it on my desk by lunch tomorrow.”
Hermione paused for a moment, watching as her team set to work, and basking in the warm feeling of another criminal behind bars. Her team had done bloody marvellous work building this case over the last three months: running down leads on the movement of Dark Artefacts and sending Courtenay in and supporting him while undercover. The arrest of one of her former Slytherin schoolmates was a satisfying culmination of their hard work. Maybe she should just make a list of all the former pureblood Slytherins from her Hogwarts days, and put them under surveillance to save them some time. Pucey hadn’t been the first Slytherin she’d arrested, and she was certain he wouldn’t be the last.