At Hogwarts the next week, Hermione tried to focus in her attention on her classes, but inside she was still fuming about the meeting. In Professor Vector’s class Friday afternoon, her mind reeled with the implications of what the Ministry had asked–no, blackmailed her to do. They could spin it any way they wanted, but she knew the truth. Hermione flexed her fist in silent anger. Kingsley and Percy had no right to speak to her like that. As if Hermione was just some child and not the young woman who fought alongside Kingsly in the Battle of Hogwarts. As if she was just some foolish first year witch who had no idea what she was doing. The way they had scolded her for the very magic they wanted to use her for.