Author's Note: Okay, so. This story features a FOC as a major character and several other OCs as well as a race known as the "Tehru." You'll see. The main couple is Hermione/FOC, which I understand is not everyone's cup of tea (coffee?), but perhaps you will enjoy it if you give it a chance. Please give me feedback!

Cue the Prologue.

Hermione, Harry and Ron sat in a well-lit Ministry office, a rather bland room, with Hogwarts Headmisstress Minerva McGonagall.

"The what?"

"The Tehru, Mister Potter. They are… an ancient race similar to werewolves." McGonagall wrung her hands nervously as she spoke. "This situation is rather complicated and highly sensitive. Please understand that the Ministry would not be recalling all three of you from your various locales if this were not of the utmost importance."

"Headmistress, what exactly is the issue? From my independent research over the years, I've never heard of the Tehru being anything but peaceful towards the Ministry in recent times." Hermione sat uncomfortably between Harry and Ron.

McGonagall took a few moments to reply. "Two Tehru were killed Thursday night by a group of wizards. The United Celtic Clans, the most vocal association of Tehru clans in Great Britain and Ireland, are preparing to send diplomats to the Ministry tomorrow morning to speak with our representatives. Though it is not a certainty, we must consider the possibility of violent reactions from the Tehru."

"So you want us to be the representatives?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Considering your… unique experiences in Wizarding politics over the years, the Ministry believes you would be well-suited to the role. Of course, as you know, the current government is under heavy public fire already." McGonagall's frown deepened.

"Well, alright. What do we do?" Ron rubbed his hands together, looking much more enthusiastic about the assignment than Hermione or Harry.

"Hang on a second, Ron. Professor McGonagall, with all due respect, I'm not sure I can take time from the team without endangering my job. I know this is probably more important, but I can't accept tonight." Harry leaned back against his chair stiffly, resting his hands on his legs above his knees.

"I understand, Mister Potter. Please let us know as soon as you possibly can. Mister Weasley? Miss Granger?"

"I'm game." Ron said quickly. It was no secret to anyone in the room that his job at his brothers' joke shop was rather dead end.

"Seeing as I already work in the Ministry's diplomacy and alliance maintenance department, I'd say I'm rather committed." Hermione smiled thinly. "Do you know who the UCC reps will be yet?"

"Yes," McGonagall glanced down at the desk between her and the former Golden Trio, "They will be sending, according to this memo, three members of a London-based clan."

Hermione sat slightly straighter in her seat.

"The names are here… Ah, here: Jeremy Dennin, Patrick Brandon and UCC militia lieutenant Michelle Brandon."

"Militia?"

"They maintain an informal army, Ron. It hasn't been mobilized against Wizarding communities in over three hundred years." Hermione's voice was emotionless, though only she herself noticed.

"Exactly, Miss Granger. That's part of the reason this situation is so dire. An unprovoked attack on a peaceful race by wizards has not happened in hundreds of years. Tomorrow morning's meeting will likely set the tone for our interactions." McGonagall stood.

"Please meet at Miss Granger's office tomorrow at 8:15 a.m. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, please accept my thanks."

Harry, Ron and Hermione each nodded and said their goodbyes to the professor. Exiting the office and the Ministry, Hermione turned to her friends as they made a subtle entry onto the London street.

"Well, this is great news. I suppose I'll see you in the morning, Ron. Good luck, Harry. We may see you again soon. I need to go make a phone call. Good night."

"Night, Hermione."

"See you tomorrow."

Ron and Harry stood for a few minutes talking as Hermione walked down the street and out of sight.

Once out of earshot, Hermione pulled her cell phone from a jacket pocket. Hitting speed dial, she put the phone to her ear and breathed out heavily in frustration.

"Hey, Michelle, call me when you get this message. I know you're busy and I have a feeling I know why. I just came from the Ministry. We need to talk."