By Lord Wrackspurt

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This novel length story replaces the final book in the Harry Potter series. It is best enjoyed by those who have read the books of the series, but can be followed by those who have only seen the movies. This story is intended for reading only by adults. It contains depictions of torture, including genital abuse, castration and emasculation; rape; sexual assault; explicit sexual content including straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, fantasy interspecies, & polyamorous sexual relationships; often with characters who are under 21, but above the UK age of consent (16).

This story is a work of fan-fiction based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Chapter 3: The Inquisitor’s Apprentice

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“CRUCIO!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGH!”

Lucius Malfoy rolled on the stone floor of his cell in agony as his Master, Lord Voldemort, tortured him again. Malfoy had only shortly before joined enthusiastically in the torture of the Aurors at Azkaban. He had laughed with glee as their pleas for mercy had fallen on deaf ears. He had delighted in seeing their young bodies convulse in agony. He had experienced his greatest sadistic nirvana as he had raped and mutilated the bodies of the young female Aurors. He had giggled in ecstacy as he had slowly crushed the testicles of the young wizards, and plucked out their eyes, while reveling in their shrieks of pain. The thrill of seeing the mortal terror of their impending deaths in their young eyes was the ultimate aphrodisiac for him. However, the wheels of terror had turned on him when he returned with the Dark Lord to his lair. Now he was receiving a taste of pain and terror of his own.

“My dear Lucius,” said Voldemort coldly. “How disappointed we have been in you. We send you as our trusted right hand to retrieve that prophesy which holds our destiny, and not only do you fail to retrieve it, but let it be destroyed. You allowed a handful of school brats to out maneuver and out fight you to the point that we were forced to expose ourself publicly to try and salvage something of the situation.

“You then compounded your failure by allowing yourself to be captured, and betrayed us to our enemies; thus causing us to have to cancel our carefully conceived plans. Is it any wonder that your own son failed in his duty to us at the moment of truth? If not for our faithful servant, Severus, here, our most powerful enemy would still be working against us.”

Between the residual waves of pain that coursed through his body, Lucius Malfoy struggled weakly to his knees. “My Lord … the Inquisition tortured me. I struggled to resist, I spent many days screaming in torment … no one can resist them for very long, my mind broke down involuntarily, and they used their damned mind rape spells on me.”

“Exactly why you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be taken alive, Lucius. If you truly loved us as you claim then you would have destroyed yourself rather than be taken and tortured into betraying us. Did you truly think we wouldn’t know? That we wouldn’t eventually have you before us to atone for your treachery? That our revenge wouldn’t be more terrible than anything the Inquisition could do? Maybe you thought the Ministry could protect you from us? If so, you are a damned fool, Lucius — CRUCIO!”

The sound of screams of mortal torment filled the chamber again as Malfoy writhed in pain on the hard stone floor. After about a half minute of this Voldemort turned to Severus Snape, “Severus, we are fatigued with this necessary duty for the moment, we leave our wayward follower here in your care. You are the professor; teach him the error of his ways. Have a care though that he is kept alive and sane, even if it is his greatest desire to be neither. He may still be useful to our designs. The Ministry would place a high value on his recapture; he might make an excellent piece of expendable bait.”

“Yes, my Lord,” replied Snape with a smile. “I shall prepare a special accommodation for our dear Lucius befitting his current status. One where he can be properly tutored in the fate awaiting traitors to your Lordship.”

“Excellent. We know you will endeavor enthusiastically at your task,” said Voldemort as he left the room.

Malfoy was now left alone with Snape. Looking up at his former rival for position in the Death Eater organization, he saw the evil grin encompassing Snape’s face, the glint of pure malice in his eyes. Lucius Malfoy, who had never shown mercy to others trapped within his power, knew what that look meant was in store for him. “The Dark Lord was right,” he thought, “I should have killed myself.”

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* [BEGIN HERE]

Summer was a time of conflict for Hermione Granger. She dearly loved her parents, and they loved her. But she also loved magic, and despite the present dangers she considered that her world now. So, for her, summer vacation had become a conflict between being with those you love and doing what you love.

Hermione’s parents were both muggles, but they produced a witch who had very strong magical powers. Unlike Harry Potter’s horrible Aunt and Uncle, Hermione’s parents had accepted their daughter’s difference completely. She had never known anything but love and happiness with them. However, Hermione knew that things were about to change. Hermione had one more year at Hogwarts and then she would have to make her own way in the world. She had tried thinking of what she might do with herself, but nothing in particular had been decided.

Professor McGonagall, the Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts, and now the new Headmistress since Professor Dumbledore’s death, had once told her that muggleborns tended to fall into two categories in the magical world. About two-thirds to three-quarters had barely noticeable magical powers; they were practically just above the level of a squib (a person born of magical parents who didn’t have any magical ability). This was, in part, the reason why all ‘mudbloods’ were looked down upon, although pure snobbery also played a part. The Professor had also told her that there were instances where a muggle-born possessed powers superior to that of many purebloods. Most of her professors had placed Hermione into this latter category.

Still, she had endured the catcalls and insults from those who considered themselves her superior because they were born purebloods, regardless of whether they had the actual talent to support a claim of superiority. Fortunately, the worst offender would not be returning to Hogwarts this next term, he was busy running for his life after participating in the murder of Professor Dumbledore. This summer also had potential, Hermione was now 17, she was an adult witch and could apparate legally to wherever she desired, whenever she desired. Broom flying had never been one of her magical fortes, and floo powder was so messy. It was so nice to simply imagine being in another place, disapparating from where you were, and apparating where you wanted to be a moment later. It was a far more civilized way for a modern witch to travel.

The summer started out ordinary enough, getting used to being home again, shopping with her mum, helping in the garden. Her dad in particular was interested in seeing Hermione do her “witchy things” as he laughingly called them. Hermione would frequently leave in the evenings to visit friends, and go to Diagon Alley, the hidden wizarding business and shopping district in London, for special shopping trips.

Then came the news of the horrible events at Azkaban, now simply known as 7-11. The damned Daily Prophet had told graphically of how those captured had been horribly tortured, the bastards had even run pictures of the corpses being taken down off crossbeams. She knew practically all of those killed. They had been students with her at Hogwarts; some had only been a year ahead of her. Now they were all dead.

Naturally, there had been an outcry from the magical community of how could something like this happen. As per the norm, a scapegoat in the form of Gwain Robards was soon forwarded. While there were never any formal charges of incompetence or dereliction of duty, the Daily Prophet had been quick to run inciteful articles suggesting that it might have been his fault. Robards had quickly resigned his post as Chief Auror and the job had been given with much fanfare to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The worst blow to Hermione personally had been the death of Bill Weasley. The Weasley family had befriended her from the start. They were one of the pureblood families that were not prejudiced against muggle born children. Bill’s youngest brother, Ron, was Hermione’s boyfriend although their relationship was still platonic. Bill’s funeral had been almost unbearable to attend, her good friend, Harry Potter, had come with the help of Professor McGonagall. Seeing Mrs. Weasley and Fleur in such grief was hard to take. Ginny, Bill’s younger sister and Hermione’s best friend at school, had been dangerously stoic. She had acted as if in deep shock throughout the whole event.

All of Bill’s five brothers had been there. One surprising thing had been how hard Percy was taking Bill’s death. Percy had become a Class A arselicker to former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. This had left him estranged from his family because Fudge’s policies of reconciliation with the Death Eaters were strongly opposed by the rest of the family. At the funeral, Percy appeared to be taking Bill’s death quite hard. “Perhaps he’ll see Voldemort for his true nature now,” thought Hermione.

Once the funerals for the murdered Aurors were done, the Minister of Magic had gone before the Wizengamot to ask for special war powers to deal with the 7-11 crisis. The Patriotic Wizards Act, or PWA as many called it, passed with little opposition. It gave the Aurors and the Inquisition a wide range of discretion in how they handled dark wizards, some said too much discretion. It also allowed the Inquisition to completely deal with the accused in secret, something that had never been allowed before.

A few days later the Daily Prophet’s obituary column had run a small article that announced the death of Amos Diggory. Hermione had known Amos only slightly, and there were no details given of his death and hasty funeral. Hermione remembered how Amos had grieved so after the death of his son at the hands of the Death Eaters two years earlier. She hoped that at least his spirit would find peace now.

It was late July, and Hermione was at home when she had received an owl from an old Hogwart’s professor asking to meet with her in Hogsmeade at the Three Broomsticks pub for lunch and a chat. Madam Hooch had been the part time flying instructor and Quidditch referee at Hogwarts during Hermione’s first five years there. After that, she had moved on to work in the Ministry, and little more was heard of her. Therefore, it was a surprise to Hermione that Madam Hooch wanted to meet with her for lunch.

Hogsmeade was a village just outside of Hogwarts School. The village only had magical inhabitants, no muggles allowed. The village had a number of shops that served the local populace as well as the students at Hogwarts. Third year students, and older, were allowed to go there on special weekends during the school year. It was a favorite meeting place where magi could relax and use magic without worrying that a muggle might see them. Under wildly antiquated Ministry laws, muggles were not supposed to know that magical people really existed. This law persisted despite most magi now having some muggle relatives; or, as in Hermione’s case, all of her family were muggles.

In a pub named the Three Broomsticks the crowd was light, most were still in a state of shock and fear over Dumbledore’s death and the events at Azkaban. Madam Hooch greeted her from her table at the back with a broad smile and a wave. She looked the same as before. Madam Hooch had never been what anyone would consider a beautiful woman. She had sort of a plain look to her face. Her body was lean but strongly proportioned. She could be an intimidating figure as a professor, but she had always seemed to like Hermione.

“Hello, my dear,” Madam Hooch started. “My word how you have grown into a beautiful young witch. A very accomplished one too if all I’ve heard is true.”

“Thank you, Madam Hooch.”

“You are not one of my students now, and you are an adult; so please call me Rolanda,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you . . . Rolanda,” Hermione stumbled, then laughed. “It’s very hard for me to call an adult by their familiar name. I still can’t believe I’m an adult, I guess I still don’t have the self confidence I thought I would have at this point.”

“Most of us didn’t at your age, Hermione. Remember that at seventeen you are really only considered mature enough in our world to perform magic competently without hurting yourself or others. Your magical powers are based in your mental abilities to concentrate, and that part of you, your mind, is only starting to begin its true development to its full potential. Hermione, I’m afraid that you are soon to evolve into a very powerful witch, and you have choices to make as to what you will do with that power.”

“I’ve always been afraid of my magical powers to a degree. I was raised as a muggle; I am different than everyone I love.”

“Everyone?” said Madam Hooch with a quizzical lifted eyebrow. “I was given the impression you had a special someone at school that you had come to care about.”

“Yes, his name is Ron, Ron Weasley.” Hermione said. “You met him the same year as me in broom riding class.”

“Since it’s just us girls here … have you done the nasty with him yet?” Madam Hooch’s blue eyes positively beamed with impish delight.

“No, not with him ….or anyone else …yet,” came Hermione’s embarrassed reply. “But I think I would if he asked me to though. I want to get more intimate, but he seems more frightened of doing it than I do. I’m the one who could get knocked up, even though I’ve been practicing some contraception spells.”

“Be careful with those, my dear. Some witches have sterilized themselves with bad spells. There are also contraception spells that can be used on the wizard. But they are dangerous too. I remember one witch who was three years above me was going to lose her virginity in the owlery with her final year boyfriend named Humphrey. She’d heard that warming the balls makes the sperm die, so she tried to heat her lover’s balls to kill the sperm, but was a little over anxious. She boiled his balls inside his sack.”

“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Hermione. “Did he die?”

“No, but he probably wished he had before it was over. Poor Humphrey was rushed to St. Mungo’s hospital to the Testi-Gro ward to have a new set of testicles grown.”

“Ehhhh,” hissed Hermione, “I’ve heard that the Testi-Gro procedure is very painful.”

“It is extremely painful, my Dear, remember when Harry had to have his arm bones regrown? How much it hurt just to grow bones, now think about a boy’s tender little love nuggets being regrown. The full process of growth and recovery is quite tedious and extremely painful; some have said it was almost like the Cruciatus curse. The new glands are super sensitive for the first year or so, and nonfunctional. Humphrey came back to Hogwarts a year behind; he had a special holder for his testicles that he had to wear so he could walk with out screaming in pain. Made him look like a moron. He was teased mercilessly by all the girls. Oh, Merlin, how cruel we were to each other back then.”

“I understand what you mean. I still have to put up with being called mudblood by some of those little turds in Slytherin. I try to tell myself that it doesn’t hurt, or make me mad, but it does.”

“I know, I’ve been there my dear. I’m not what anyone would call a classic beauty now, and I too was muggle born,” she said as she saw Hermione try to hide an embarrassed flush. “But when I was a teenager I looked even gawkier and plainer than now. Oh, my, back in the day I had pureblood bastards who called me Hooch the Hag. I endured all the little snippets of venom thrown at me for not being pretty, plus all the mudblood sneers as well. Sound like some of what you have had to deal with?”

“Yes Ma’am, I mean Rolanda,” muttered Hermione. “I get a lot of similar treatment. It’s the only bad thing I’ve seen at Hogwarts. I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes.”

“Would you like for me to offer you a way to deal with it creatively?”

“Yes…, Rolanda,” came Hermione’s reply.

Madam Hooch smiled and reached inside her robes to bring out a beautiful dragon skin wallet. Opening it, she showed Hermione a golden badge issued by the Ministry of Magic identifying Rolanda Hooch as a Deputy Chief Inquisitor in the Inquisitor General’s office. Hermione was shocked; Madam Hooch was a member of the Inquisition.

“Hermione, when I was at Hogwarts I was working on an undercover assignment in addition to my regular duties as a senior field Inquisitor. Last year I was promoted to DCI standing with all powers and privileges appertaining thereunto that office; and those powers and privileges are very considerable, especially right now with the PWA in force. I answer directly to the Inquisitor General. I trust you know what we do?”

“Yes Ma’am,” said Hermione with no pretense of called a member of the Inquisition ‘Rolanda’ anymore. “Aurors track down suspected dark wizards and capture them, or kill them if they resist arrest. The Inquisition questions the suspects and obtains information by whatever means are needed, and then prosecutes the offenders before the Wizengamot Council. The Wizengamot determine final guilt and decree punishment.”

“Exactly, my dear, with the exception that we now have special court rules for trying the Death Eaters. If, for example, I thought that you were involved in dark wizardry then I could directly issue a warrant to have the Aurors pick you up and bring you to me. From there you would be physically and magically secured in an interrogation room in the lower levels of the Ministry building. From that point on I am the spider and you are the fly in my web.”

“Madam Hooch, I swear to you I have never supported You-know-who in any way, I’ve always …” said Hermione who was now visibly shaking with fear.

“Shh, shh, shh, darling,” said Hooch. She reached out to gently hold and stroke Hermione’s hands, and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. “I know exactly where your loyalties lie. I’ve followed your career at Hogwarts with great interest. I know all about you, and how you’ve helped Harry defy Lord Voldemort. I know for a fact that your loyalties are with us in this war. How would you like to formally join the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters? As a Deputy Chief Inquisitor, I rate having my own personal staff to assist me in my investigations, and can begin training them in the service. So I’m here to offer you an assistant Inquisitor’s job as my apprentice.”

The look on Hermione’s face quickly changed from fear to shock. She, become an Inquisitor! She couldn’t answer, she was struck dumb.

“You would begin intensive orientation training over the remainder of the summer. You could stay at home with your parents on weekends and nights if you wished, then apparate to our site in the Ministry building for training. When the new term begins at Hogwarts, we’ll arrange for special class sessions there and in the Ministry. You already know that as a final year you can leave school for outside training, we will arrange everything with the new headmistress, Professor McGonagall.

“You’ll learn powerful magic, but as an adult, not a child, no more turning gerbils into teacups. You’ll learn from experts in the craft, witches and wizards who are working in the field every day. We will develop your mental power to a level that you can barely dream of now. With a little help from us, you'll have the ability to become a sorceress of the first order. Not only will you have the ability to perform advanced magic, but the permission to use it. I assure you, Hermione, when we are done with you, no witch or wizard in their right mind would dare use the ‘M’ word in your presence again.”

Hermione just sort of stared at Hooch in amazement. “I … I’m not sure what to say. The offer sounds wonderful, but I don’t know if I’m up to it. What if I fail?”

“Some apprentices do fail, either by their own choice, or they just don’t have the ability to make it. Still, they retain the training they have received, so they are no worse off. However, in your case I firmly believe that if you desire to succeed that you will. I mean this in all earnestness; you could be sitting on the Wizengamot in twenty years time. Believe me when I say that this offer is not made frivolously. We know about you, we have been watching you all these years. If we weren’t pretty sure of your abilities then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. ”

“How do you know about me, who’s been watching?” asked Hermione.

“We have our contacts at Hogwarts, Hermione. The Inquisitor General’s office tries to make sure that someone there is friendly to the Inquisition. That person makes us aware of situations of concern; after all, children do so love to talk about what their parents are up to; and to let us know when a potential future recruit is moving through the grades.

“That was part of my covert duties at Hogwarts, to locate new talent. My primary mission was to go undercover to watch for signs of dark wizardry in the faculty. We already had our eyes on Quirrell because of suspicious movements on his part, but not enough was known to approach him. Especially if he were part of a conspiracy, we didn’t want to scatter the herd by pouncing on him too soon. I was to observe and report.

“Back then we were worried that someone was shaping themself to be a replacement to Voldemort. No one suspected that the real Voldemort was still alive and planning a comeback. I stayed close to Quirrell that summer and sensed his desire to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone, but not why. Actually, it was my report to the IG that resulted in the stone being returned to Dumbledore’s personal care, just in time too as it turned out. Of course, Snape had always been under suspicion by our office too. We also wanted to start observation of two new students to get a sense of them, one was the only son of Lucius Malfoy, and the other was Harry Potter.”

“Why were you interested in them, we were all still just children then?” asked Hermione.

“Lucius Malfoy was always a potential target as a replacement leader for the Death Eaters. We knew he was one of Voldemort’s leading supporters, but he was politically protected. Draco could be an alternative path to discovering what was happening with his dad. Harry was an enigma. He had been exiled to the muggles after his parent’s death and jealously protected by Dumbledore. No one understood how Harry had survived the killing curse; how he had destroyed, or so we thought then, one of the most powerful wizards known. There was a lot of fear and uncertainty in the Ministry concerning Harry and his impending return to the Wizarding world.

“So I was sent in undercover to check out the situation. When the first year ended with Quirrel’s death and the Stone’s destruction, our fears changed now that we knew that some part of Voldemort remained alive, even if some in the Ministry chose to steadfastly deny the truth. After a few years part time work on my faculty job there I was pulled out and returned to full time regular Inquisition work again.”

“But the Inquisition still has someone at Hogwarts observing all that’s happening then?”

“Oh yes, Hogwarts and Harry had become too important not to watch over and protect.”

“Who is it?”

“I can’t tell you that, even if you decide to join us.”

Hermione’s only previous experience with an Inquisitor had been Madam Umbridge, who had been appointed by Cornelius Fudge to be a special Inquisitor at Hogwarts during their fifth year there. Hermione had taken a severe dislike to Umbridge who had used her authority to try and stifle Harry and Dumbledore from making the wizarding community aware that Voldemort had returned. She’d done this at the behest of the former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

“Would I have to have anything to do with Umbridge?” asked Hermione.

“Absolutely not,” laughed Hooch. “You’ll work with me and the training officers I assign to you. Obviously, I can’t give you names right now, but I promise you that you won’t be left with strangers. Practically everyone on my team is ex-Hogwarts, mostly Gryffindor and a few Ravenclaws. They were offered the same thing that I’m offering you, and that I was once offered by my mentor, a chance to show what you could do.

“As for Umbridge, that stupid cow was only retained by her political connections to that idiot Fudge. She’s still there, but she’s been strictly relegated to shit detail managing the library. Now that we are in a real war, it’s back to basics. Competency counts more than politics. This is a good time for a muggleborn to come in, Hermione, when it’s how many arses you kick and not how many you kiss that determine success. You can establish yourself in the war time footing, by the time this war is won you’ll be set as a full Inquisitor.”

“I don’t know …, Rolanda,” said Hermione. “I don’t think I could do what’s necessary. Don’t you torture prisoners who won’t talk? Umbridge was going to use the Cruciatus curse on us; I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that, even to a Death Eater.”

“Sometimes we do use extreme measures, and we are permitted to use forbidden curses to get information. We can also use truth potions, but things such as Veritaserum can be fooled by dark wizards with a little training. For most prisoners our main weapon is psychological. Think about this Hermione, what did you feel when I showed you this badge? Fear? There is good reason to if you are a dark wizard. Because I can make their life a living hell of an existence. I can insure that they take every remaining breath of their life in pain, fear, and despair. That they never know comfort, security, love, warmth, or any other good thing in life again. I’ve had some of those that teased me back then in front of me, suspended spread-eagle in one of our special Sphere’s of Despair. I assure you there were no smart-arse quips to be heard from them. I was no longer Hooch the Hag, I was Hooch the Horror.”

She stopped and smiled a bit as she saw the effect she was having on Hermione.

“Most suspects are so terrified of what we might do to them that they just submit. In my interrogation parlor I have racks of bottles full of bubbling evil smelling potions with all sorts of wicked names on the bottles. Actually, it’s just foul scented bubble water. I have all sorts of devices hung on the wall that look like torture tools; they're actually just some muggle artifacts I bought at a market sale. The suspect is led down a corridor of cells from which he hears pitiful moans and pleas. It actually just a door on the wall that’s been enchanted to make those sounds. Ninety-nine percent are so frightened by the time they are secured in the interrogation room that the problem is getting them to slow down their babbling so you can understand what they are saying.”

“But you do sometimes have to hurt someone?”

“Sometimes we have the hardcore cases who aren’t frightened by the theatrics. Powerful and fanatical witches or wizards who have the mental capacity to resist standard potions like Veritaserum. You have to develop a plan to break their ability and will to resist your interrogation. You don’t want them to die; they are no good to you then. A mix of psychological and physical stress provides the best results, and the more powerful the mind of the interrogator the less physical torture is needed. Only very poor Inquisitors, such as Umbridge, would have needed to have used the Cruciatus curse on Harry that time to have gotten him to talk.”

“What do you do to them?” asked Hermione.

“Depends upon them my dear. When it does come to pain, you’d be surprised how little it often requires to break their resistance. For the males, a good hard kick in the knackers still works wonders for bringing them around. I’ve had lesser Death Eaters who were trained to resist the standard skull fuck techniques …”

“What’s a skull fuck?” Hermione interjected.

“Oh that’s just our pet name for a MPR, mental probe and recovery; some others also call it the brain rape. We project our mind into the suspect’s mind, search for thoughts related to criminal activities; we can view the thoughts, or bring those thoughts to the forefront of the mind, and forcibly draw them out for placement in a case Pensieve. The completed case Pensieve holds all the memory evidence used to convict a suspect, members of the Wizengamot can view the memories for themselves during the trial.”

“But you hurt wizards in their … you know, down there?” asked Hermione.

“Oh yes, physical trauma combined with psychological terror is quite an effective motivator. For example, one of the little arseholes who used to tease me was a certain Lucius Malfoy, of whom you know, and in fact helped to capture. He was brought before me last year for interrogation. I was assigned to find out what activities the Dark Lord was planning.

“Malfoy started the interrogation as arrogant as ever claiming to be under the Imperious curse. He was certain that no one would dare to actually place torment on a pureblood of noble family.”

“What happened?” asked a grinning Hermione.

“Oh, I touched the tip of my wand to his right testicle and gave him a nice taste of the Cruciatus curse. You know Lucius actually has a nice tenor voice when he needs it. I then crucio’d the left testicle, and left the room for about 10 minutes for a cup of tea. When I returned I could see nothing but teardrops and pure terror of me in his pretty blue eyes. I said, ‘Now, Lucius, let’s try this again shall we?’ He spilled his guts about everything.”

“You’re allowed to do by the Ministry?” asked Hermione.

“Of course, dear, we do what is necessary to determine the truth. There’s none of that muggle bullshit about right to remain silent, and having a solicitor present. When you are brought before the Inquisition it’s our duty to determine the truth, and, to a large degree, it’s our decision on how it’s done. The only time the process fails is when the politicians attempt to exert influence over the process, or we can’t find witches and wizards with the necessary skills and intelligence to do the job.”

“What if a person is innocent?” said Hermione. “They might still resent having the probe done.”

“That’s true, Hermione. However, the probe is done only on serious cases. This is where the Inquisitor’s discretion comes in. I’m not going to crucio someone and give them a MPR over a stolen cauldron. Just remember that in muggle law a person who is accused of a serious crime may spend years in a prison cell awaiting a trial verdict. Then, because of faulty data collection, that innocent person may be convicted anyway.

“In our system if an accused person freely opens their mind to the Inquisitor they are not injured, the probe lasts maybe as little as a few minutes or so. The truth of their innocence is known and they are often released that day to resume their normal life free of suspicion.

“In the case of Malfoy, he gave us valuable information that prevented several planned attacks on others. In the first raid the Death Eaters were ambushed and several were captured. Voldemort realized that Malfoy had talked and cancelled his planned campaign of terror. By my actions I saved innocent lives. For example, Lucius Malfoy has a particular hatred of some very good friends of yours, Arthur Weasley and his family. He considers them blood traitors. There was to have been an attack on their home last Christmas eve. The intent was to kill the whole family if possible, and make an example of what happens to blood traitors.”

Hermione looked into Madam Hooch’s eyes. On Christmas Eve she had been at the Weasley’s home, which they called the Burrow, as had Harry. They could have all been killed.

“So yes, sometimes we have to do bad things to a few, but hopefully we do it for a good cause, to protect the many. That comes back to getting the right people in the job. Someone is going to become an Inquisitor. Would you rather that it be someone who is weak or incompetent, or someone who wants power only for the betterment of themselves? Would you prefer it to be someone who is intelligent and strong, someone who realizes that power is a trust to be used for the greater good? There are often alternatives to inflicting pain on a suspect, but a stupid or weak Inquisitor doesn’t know them, or can’t perform them. The Umbridge type let’s say. But sometimes it still comes down to the suspect knowing you have the ability, and the will, to hurt them in ways they can not endure or evade.”

“Can I think about this for a while?” Hermione asked.

“Of course, I know I’m asking for a commitment that isn’t easy to make. I tell you what, let’s eat lunch, and talk about nothing but happy days at Hogwarts. My treat, or rather the Ministry’s treat. Did I mention you would get a generous expense account and the salary is pretty good too? There are some other lifestyle perks as well.” Hooch smiled and added a wink to the last comment.

They both laughed and ordered lunch. They talked of the days when Hermione came to Hogwarts like it was ages ago. After lunch, they retired to the lounge and had a glass of wine. For the first time Hermione realized she was an adult, she was having a conversation with a real adult she wasn’t related to as an equal, drinking wine, talking over old times, — it felt good.

In the back of her mind she deliberated the offer. It was definitely a position where she could make a difference, where she could fight Voldemort and his minions. She thought of what her life would be like if Malfoy had been able to kill Ron, or Harry. She though of the grief Ginny had endured over Bill’s death at Azkaban on 7-11. She’d seen firsthand what the Death Eaters were willing to do, and what they wanted to do to all the ‘Mudbloods’ like her. She made up her mind, the answer was yes. Turning to Rolanda, she realized that her new mentor had stopped talking and was just searching her face.

“Welcome to the fight, Hermione. When do you want to get started?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. So — when do you want to start?”

“I promised my mum I’d help with the housework tomorrow, muggle style. But I’m free after that.”

“Excellent. That’ll give me time to get you clearances into the Inquisitor General’s section of the Ministry, and I’ll pick you up day after tomorrow at your front door at 8 AM. I’ll show you how to apparate in.”

After Hooch left, Hermione sat there alone to ponder what she had done. She was both frightened and elated at the prospect of what awaited her, but she had made her choice. Hermione was going to become an Inquisitor.