“I hope Azkaban is warmer than the ride there,” she mumbled, rubbing her arms to warm herself.
“I doubt it,” Harry responded, his green eyes focused on the fortress they were slowly approaching.
Ginny’s eyes were scanning the water surrounding the small boat they were in, [;] she was still cross about having to leave her wand with the guard before boarding the small vessel.
The boat ride seemed to last for hours, but they finally docked at the dark island housing the tall, imposing Azkaban Prison.
“Follow me,” the warden gruffly ordered, not bothering with pleasantries and quickly turning towards the foreboding structure.
As they approached the building, Hermione felt the chill deepen. Something deep inside of her was warning her to turn back now. It was as though her soul could feel the horrible things that had happened in this place and was afraid.
“Are you okay?” Ron asked, giving her a worried look.
“I am fine, just cold,” Hermione quickly replied, not realizing she had been shaking.
Harry had been right, the inside wasn’t any warmer than outside, actually, it was colder.
They passed through thick, dark wooden doors and into a dank entryway. The room smelled of mildew and blood.
“This way to see the prisoner.” The warden stalked quickly down one of the four hallways coming out of the imposing room.
The four friends hurried to keep up. They went up stairs, down stairs, through doorways and archways until they had no idea where they were in the twisted building.
“Here you are. You have ten minutes; I will be right down the hall.” The warden walked away, leaving them in front of a metal door with a little barred window in the middle of it.
“Dung?” Harry asked, leaning towards the small window.
“Harry? What are you doin’ here, kid?” Mundungus Fletcher asked as he pressed his now gaunt and shallow face against the bars of the window.
“We need to ask you something, and we need you to tell us the truth. We will not tell anyone else, and we won’t use what you tell us against you.”
“All right, what do you need to know, boy?”
“Did you break into the Lestrange home sixteen years ago? And did you take anything?”
Mundungus’ eyes widen at Harry’s questions.
“I-I have no idea what you are talking about,” he replied, looking away.
“Dung! We know you were there, we just need to know if you took a cup from their house!” Harry grabbed the bars and looked in to stare Dung down.
“I took a lot of stuff from that house! Yes, there was a cup. It had the Hufflepuff crest on it; it got me a lot of money! What does it matter?” Dung asked, looking at Harry through a curtain of matted hair.
“You got a lot of money for it, where did you sell it?” Hermione asked while jotting down the new information on her pad of paper.
“I can’t tell you.” Mundungus turned away from the window and limped to the other side of the small hay covered cell.
“What do you mean? We need to find that cup, Dung! It is crucial we find it!” Harry pressed his face to the bars and glared at the filth-covered man.
“Fine, but you didn’t hear about this from me! And if you want that cup… well, it is going to be hard to obtain.
“There is a place, it is underground and you will not be able to find it, so don’t try to find it! Its location changes every month, I lost my connection, so I can’t tell you where it is now. Anyway, it is a place where rich collectors can bid on rare items that have…questionable origins. It is a group of rich politicians mainly, who compete with each other to see who has the best and rarest junk! I use to sell stuff there all the time. I sold the cup there.
“I think it is stupid; those men spending so much on things they can’t ever display! They spend small fortunes on these things and keep them hidden away so they don’t get in trouble for having them!” Mundungus shook his head and stepped towards the door again.
“Why do they buy all that stuff if they can’t show it off?” Ron asked, confused.
“They know they have it and the other men at the auction know they have it! It is a competition of sorts. Who has the most expensive and rare thing? They all want to be on top. This is just one they try to out do each other. They have been doing it for centuries. Competing for who has the best blood, the most money, the prettiest wife and the most influence.”
“Who bought the cup from you, Dung?” Ginny asked.
“You won’t be able to get it from him! He will have the best security, rumor has it he has his own underground museum for it all. No one can get in there!” Mundungus explained, throwing his arms around in a wild gesture.
“Dung! Just tell us! We only have a minute left,” Hermione said as she looked at her watch.
Mundungus sighed.
“Rufus Scrimgeour.”
The four sat in the library at Grimmauld Place, each deep in thought.
“So, what do we do?” Ginny was the first to speak.
“Well, we can’t just break into the Minster of Magic’s house. We can’t accuse him of buying stolen goods; no one would take it seriously in this time of crisis. We… I have no idea what to do,” Hermione admitted.
“Why can’t we steal it from him?” Ron asked, a look of determination on his face.
“Why? He was the Head of the Auror’s for years. The man probably knows more protection spells, wards and trip curses then most wizards twice his age! It would be like… breaking into Buckingham Palace!” Hermione rambled, throwing her hands about.
“Why can’t we steal it from him?” Ron asked again, an odd look coming to his face.
“Ronald, have you not been listening?” Hermione glared at him.
“No, I mean, we can. Steal it,” Ron explained while taking a piece of parchment and quill and quickly writing.
“What are you getting at, Ron?” Harry asked, a look of interest on his face.
“Well, it may not seem like it, but I do listen to my dad when he goes on and on about the Ministry. He said something after Scrimgeour took office. That it took the Ministry movers a full week to move all of Scrimgeour’s belongs to the Ministers' mansion.” Ron looked up at Hermione as though that explained everything.
“So? He owns a lot of things, how does that help us?” Hermione questioned.
“He lives in a Ministry building!”
“Again, how does that help us?” Ginny asked, shooting an annoyed glare at her brother.
“Every Ministry building’s green prints are kept in the Ministry, as public record! We can go and look at his house's floor plan! We can figure out how to get in and out!”
“That is brilliant, Ron!” Harry exclaimed, patting Ron on the back.
“What’s a green print?” Hermione interjected.
“It is the floor plans of a house. Don’t Muggles have green prints of their houses?” Ginny explained, tilting her head to the side and looking at Hermione.
“We have blue prints.”
“Oh. Anyway, we can research the types of spells and wards he will have on his house, and we can break in and steal the cup!” Ron finished his master plan with a flourish of the quill in his hand.
“I don’t think it is going to be that easy, Ronald. This will take a while to plan and then we need to find the perfect time to put the plan into action. We will need to study Scrimgeour, what spells he was known for in the Aurors, his daily rituals, when he will be at his home, when he is gone, where he is most likely to keep his secret display of stolen goods…” Hermione went on, not realizing Ron was writing everything she was saying down. “So, you see, it just isn’t possible.”
“Right,” Ron murmured, scratching away with his quill. “What was that last thing you said?”
“UH! Ron! I am trying to tell you that…”
“I think was should do it,” Harry interrupted Hermione’s rant. “We’ll steal it and then destroy it.”
“You are focusing too much, Miss Granger!” Severus bellowed during their fourth Legilimency lesson. “You need to let your mind relax, let it go through the steps of building defenses naturally. If you focus that much, others can tell you are putting up walls, then what good are you?”
“Sorry, Professor.” Hermione rubbed her tired eyes. “Can we call it a night, sir, I am very tired? It has been a long day.”
“Fine! Something is bothering you. I can tell, you are letting it show,“ he said with a sneer. “No matter what is going wrong, you must be able to push it aside and let your mental barriers rise up around them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I am sure whatever your parents are fighting over will work itself out. It can’t be anything serious… they are only Muggles.”
“You don’t know anything about my parents!” Hermione yelled. “Nothing at all! Who are you to be so condescending? You are only a wizard!”
With tears streaming down her face, Hermione grabbed her bag and ran from the room. Severus stared after her.
“Hermione…”
Hermione felt someone shake her and she opened her eyes to see Ginny standing above her.
“Yeah, Ginny, what is it?” she asked groggily.
“You need to get to bed. No more sleeping hunched over a pile a books for you, young lady!” Ginny gave her best “Molly” look as she helped Hermione up and steered her towards her room. “Get some sleep! We are going to see my dad tomorrow about those green prints.”
“Right… night, Ginny,” Hermione mumbled, stumbling into her room and onto her bed.