You know, when you're in a dream, you have no idea how you got there, no idea what's going on- you're kinda in the middle of it and just go with it, trying to figure everything out, make sense of your surroundings and try to guess how you got into this situation? It felt like that to Hermione.
It was so much information at once that her brain went into overdrive, till she had to slow down and process each detail carefully. It was like she was waking out of a trance and found herself sitting on a chair. There was a table in front of her and a glaring light shone right at her face that made it even more hard to focus. She blinked to clear her vision, straightening up and realizing her hands were cuffed behind her back and her back- ugh...- it hurt when she tried to stretch. Apparently she had been here a while.
She had been put in a dark hole for what felt like eternity and she had lost her sense of time and place. That's why the sudden change of scene felt even more stark. After her eyes adjusted to the light, she scanned the room to determine exactly where she was. She didn't have to scrutinize for too long before guessing that it was one of the interrogation rooms of the Ministry of Magic.
Set deep under the ground, the "BIN" is a sterile ISO-FAC (Isolation Facility) where suspects are brought in for questioning before determining whether they would be put in the holding cells or marched straight off to Azkaban. The room had been magically altered to give the sensation of being an endless space so that the captives would feel they are lost in a dark void with seemingly no end, if they are allowed to roam about freely, but in reality, if one is guided properly, one would find the exit only a few paces away. Prisoners usually preferred to cling to the visible chair and table they were provided with, instead of wondering in the void and losing their minds. She knew about the existence of these rooms, just never had the misfortune of being in one before.
She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down before she got an anxiety attack that the room was supposed to evoke. Rather than letting the fear of getting irretrievably lost in the void, she concentrated on her actual surroundings that she knew was there when the spell was not activated. She knew that these rooms were usually sparse with little to no furniture. All the walls were covered in acoustic sound tiles save for a two-way mirror on one wall. When she concentrated hard she could actually break through the spell and make out the glistening edges of the mirror where it stood covering almost all of one wall.
Hermione was staring at the mirror hard, trying to see whether she could make out anyone present on the other side but she was taken aback by her own reflection- she couldn't even recognize the woman staring back at her through puffy eyes underlined with dark circles, unwashed hair and just the overall look of someone who doesn't give a fuck anymore.
She turned her head to the sound of a door opening- someone must have stepped inside the room. At first she could only see a silhouette, but she got the impression that whoever it was, was looking her over, taking their time to decide how to go about this business. She squinted through the light but she was unable to see his face, but she realized that it was a man.
"Are you in good health? Do you have any emergency physical condition I should know about?"
She was hearing a calm tone of voice after so long that it took a while for it to reach her brain, surpassing the hollow ringing in her ears so that she just shook her head instead of replying. She was still trying to make out who he was, although the voice sounded oddly familiar.
"Sorry, are you scared? Just a minute, I'll get the lights." He took out his wand, pointing it to the ceiling and the light adjusted to a more even tone, bathing the whole room in a more soothing glow; it was bearable, instead of hurting her eyes. And he casually waved his wand again so that the incantation over the room was lifted and it came back to its original form. She could see all the walls now and the only door through which the man must have entered, in front of which he was standing right now. When he saw her watching he gave a little smile that was both shy, like he was embarrassed that they had to do this but also reassuring that he was there for her.
She suspected it was to give her a false sense of security but she knew better than to trust anyone now. Now she had this new guy to deal with and she straightened up as much as she could and braced herself.
The man was of medium built, average height with thinning hair that was starting to get white at the temples. His clothes were pretty generic but he carried himself with style. He had unremarkable features but an agreeable face. There was something about him that seemed vaguely familiar but Hermione doubted whether she had ever come across him while working at the Ministry.
"Let's get these handcuffs off, shall we?"
As he came around to her, she got a whiff of his cologne, which gave her an odd feeling- she didn't know whether to be attracted or repulsed by it. At least she was glad when the cuffs were taken off her and she could bring her arms to her front. She rubbed her skin where the fiery enchantments had seared her flesh. But she still watched him warily, because she thought she knew exactly what this was- the good-cop-bad-cop routine.
Taking off the handcuffs was a precisely calculated action- either he wished to let her be at ease with him, with a friendly introduction, in order to make him a confidant to her, or it was his way of saying that she was equally powerless with or without the shackles. There was no getting out of here.
He was watching her too, perhaps a little unnerved by her appearance, maybe taking pity over her predicament but she suspected that he was probably taking his time to determine exactly how he was going to get what he needed out of her. Masked behind a friendly face and an amicable smile, he was perhaps hiding an egotistical mind that was confident enough to think that he knew exactly how to make her tick.
Hermione assumed a hard face, determined not to give anything away and subjected him to her scrutinizing gaze too. He had a pair of curious eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses that he pushed up his nose before sitting down in the chair opposite her. No sooner than he settled down that Hermione launched into a tirade.
"Why have I been brought here? What is happening? What day is it?"
He put up a hand to silence her. "Before we begin..." He reached across to a briefcase that he had set down on the table and clicked it open, revealing a recording device inside. He tapped it with his wand and some sort of a mechanical whirring and clicking and turning of minuscule wheels indicated that the recording had started.
"Let me state for the record, under formal direction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: The following will serve as first contact and operational archive for The Ministry of Magic, Investigation Bureau. Recorded on the 11th of November 2001. The voices in the record are as follows, Senior Directorate of Magical Law Enforcement patrol, Graham Gore, and former deputy head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, presently accused employee of the Ministry of Magic, Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley."
Hermione waited for him to finish, weighing his every word and letting the gravity of her situation sink in. He took a pause, letting her have a chance to speak if she wanted.
When she didn't, he began again, addressing her now, "On behalf of the Ministry and the future of the Wizarding World, I would like to thank you, for this interview."
She simply arched an eyebrow, scoffing. Is that what it is?
She looked towards the mirror again; if she asked him whether they were alone, she had no doubt that he would've reassured that this 'interview' was confidential. That was a great way of sidestepping the question. She wondered how many people were behind that glass right now, watching her, judging her, already forming a case against her.
"Remember this is not an interrogation or a trial." he assured, seemingly guessing what she was thinking, "Your version of the truth is all that matters."
"Truth is singular. It's 'versions' are mistruths."
He forgot what he was about to say next and stared at her, perhaps in awe. Hermione stared right back, both refusing to back down.
"Feel free to speak your mind, miss." he insisted, when she showed no indication of continuing.
She crossed her arms over her chest and chewed her lips, assessing him. "I already told them that I don't know anything-"
"Pardon me, but I think we both know that's not quite true." He smirked in a way that she didn't like at all.
"I've already said what I had to say. You can't keep me in here for exercising my right to speech!"
"Oh no, no." He shook his head vigorously, "You are here because you are our prime suspect for a crime."
"What crime?" She was beside herself, "I have been given no warrant for my arrest. I've not been given access to a solicitor or anyone outside and I've been kept in here for who knows how long...while they've been questioning me for information."
"Have they been torturing you?" he asked sharply.
"No." She felt the need to assure; she had been through that before and she wouldn't use the term lightly. However, the way she had been treated in here was not acceptable either. "That's the only thing left to be done but I was subjected to brutal interrogation. Why am I here? Why are you keeping me here?"
"Well, Mrs. Granger...um-Weasley," he shuffled some papers in front of him, awkwardly staring down at them.
"Just Ms. Granger is fine." she snapped, tightening her lips.
"Very well, Ms. Granger," he adjusted his glasses again and looked her in the eye. "I'm afraid, it is my job to inform you that you have been accused of conspiring to assassinate the Minister for Magic."
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"I suppose, you may need a minute to process this..." It seemed like he was almost about to reach across and touch her hand, but he decided against it and leaned back in his chair, curiously searching her face for her reaction.
Hermione controlled her expression as much as she could, even though her brain began to sift through the last few months of her life. Then she assumed the same nonchalant expression and cocked her head. "No...as to everything that has been going on at the Ministry lately, surprisingly, this does not come as a shock."
He raised an eyebrow at the subtle hint at the accusation of corruption within the Ministry. "You really should watch what you're saying, you know. Walls have ears."
That was definitely a warning. He couldn't be more subtle about the fact that they were being watched. After all, if they were accusing her of attempting to assassinate the Minister, daresay she was the most high-profile criminal at the moment.
Graham Gore wondered whether his previous comment had managed to intimidate her, and he said with an air of business-like attitude, "So, are you ready?"
Hermione didn't reply, nor made any changes in her body language but continued to stare daggers at him.
He waited for her to speak for a minute, then his face dropped somewhat, as if he had been expecting it. She was not going to give up that easily. For a brief moment, his eyes searched about to decide what to do, then suddenly he got an idea.
"Oh, terribly sorry! Can I offer you some refreshments?" He produced two flasks of coffee from his bag and put them on the table. "You want it hot or cold?"
Hermione stared at the flasks then back at him, scoffing. If it's another flimsy attempt at extending a hand of friendship...
"Relax. I have to do this. I don't want to use force." He said in a low tone, then he stood up and leaned forward in order to reach over to her side of the table as he pushed the flask closer to her reach. And as he did so, he said in an even lower tone- a tone that only she could hear, "They're watching me too."
Her eyes darted up to his, as she tried to guess what he meant. He sat back down, twisting open his flask and taking a sip, his eyes never leaving hers.
"How do I know that this isn't laced with anything?" she challenged.
He shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to take my word for it. And, anyway," he folded his hands in front of him, "You said you're interested in nothing but the truth, Ms. Granger. Well then, even if that coffee cup contained Veritaserum -which it doesn't- you should have nothing to worry about."
She couldn't decide whether all this was just another trick of his, making her think he was on her side and if he came to know about the truth, he would represent her case, even if it meant going against the Ministry.
But she finally leaned towards him, grabbing hold of the cylindrical flask and looked to him. "Hot, please."
He smiled, proud at his victory, and tapped the tumbler with his wand so that a blast of steam came out the top. She brought it to her lips, taking tentative sips as she started to think.
She realized something; if she was the only one being questioned, perhaps she was the only one who had been caught. She doubted whether the rest had managed to escape. She was the only one they had managed to catch alive. The sole survivor of her group.
She doubted whether this interview would ever see the light of day, but if her previous attempt of bringing the truth to light had indeed failed, then this might be her only chance to do it- to tell her version of the truth, to tell her story.
Gore realized that he needed to push her to blurt everything out- time was running out, and therefore continued, "There's much disagreement on what should be done with you. The Corprocrats want you euthanized as a deviant, the Witch Watchers are demanding a period of study, the Auror Office is screaming for an immediate psychological evaluation and extradition. However, the problem you create is a political one. Which means you're my problem."
He looked her straight in the eye; Hermione didn't break the eye contact and tried to decipher what lay behind them, but his dark eyes gave nothing away even though they lingered on her for a couple of minutes.
"I find it intriguing to imagine that beneath these perfectly formed features, are thoughts that terrify the whole of the bureaucracy of the state." As he spoke, his eyes traveled from her eyes, to her nose, to her lips, down to her neck that was exposed until the done up buttons of her blouse and then back to her eyes, momentarily apologetic that he had let his eyes go out of his control. "I'm not afraid of such thoughts, because I do not fear the truth. There's a natural order to this world. And the truth is this order must be protected."
This was why she knew she couldn't trust him at all; those friendly gestures were all an act. This right here was what he was- that mechanical way of speaking, the subtle menace behind his kind tone- he was just another puppet in the hands of the Ministry.
He finally tore his eyes away and did an unnecessary reshuffling of the papers in front of him, before letting her know her rights, so to speak.
"You cannot call your lawyer or anyone else outside. You must put your trust in me. I am a small part of a large mechanism, that goes for you too, and together we may seek the truth. I will help you to the best of my abilities, but the brunt of the responsibility lies with you. Deliberate deceit will not be tolerated. Although personally, I may find your lies charming. Inadvertent blunders will be treated with firm kindness, and you must trust me to decide the ratio between firmness and kindness. Your best hope would be to depersonalize what follows, and not look upon me as a foe nor yourself as a victim. Remember, we are both seekers of truth and in this quest, I am your friend, philosopher and guide."
Hermione returned him the same expression that he gave- remaining absolutely neutral but giving a sense of cooperation.
Gore leaned forward, "Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"