Chapter 1 – From the Flames

Come sit with me beside the fire,
We'll watch the flames as they grow higher
But when the flames fade and die,
There'll just be darkness, and you and I

- A Campfire Tale by Hikaru

She woke up at 6am. She lay under the covers for a moment, watching her breath hang in the air for a moment, the fire in the hearth having long since died.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed. One, two, three, four, five, six. On the sixth chime, Hermione sat up in bed and swung her legs around, pulling the covers back so she could alight on the floor. She pulled a robe on and picked up her wand from the bedside, relighting the fire and the gaslight above her bed.

Her roommate Padma groaned lowly at the intrusion of the gaslight and rolled on to her back with the pillow over her eyes.

"Wassa' time?" Padma asked.

"6." replied Hermione. "I'm going to draw a bath."

Padma murmured her assent and promised she would have the curtains open by the time she got back. Hermione padded down the carpeted hall to the bathroom. The toilet, an upmarket flushing model appropriated from well-to-do Muggles, sat in the corner proudly. The bath tub sat in the opposite corner empty.

"Miss is wanting to bathe?" said a voice from behind her and Hermione let out an undignified shriek.

"Tinky, you scared me. I've told you not to sneak up on me like that."

To her credit, the house elf looked a little guilty, "Sorry Miss. I is getting the bath drawn."

She snapped her fingers and the bath filled with water, steam floating slightly above the surface and twisting upwards.

"Thank you," Hermione said gratefully.

"It is no problem Miss," said the house elf cheerfully. "I is bringing towel for you. Miss will enjoy her bath."

The elf left with a crack that made Hermione jump again. Sighing, she divested herself of clothing and slipped into the bath with a satisfied groan. Tinky reappeared with a towel shortly afterwards and helped her wash her hair.

When she returned to her room, Padma was sitting in front of the dresser brushing her long dark hair. The curtains had been opened and the first few tendrils of dawn were creeping over the horizon.

Hermione examined Padma's smooth locks with envy, "Ugh I'm so jealous."

"Your hair is beautiful Hermione," said Padma, rolling her eyes. The exchange was a rehash of an oft-had argument on hair quality, usually when Hermione was trying to wrestle her hair into a semblance of order for school. It had followed them to the boarding house in Muggle London, filled to the brim with their other classmates.

"Lav, they're up," called Parvati, Padma's sister, sticking her head through the open door. "Morning my loves."

"Good morning Parv," said Padma.

The two were identical twins, but anyone who knew them could tell the difference. Parvarti favoured bright colours and experimental cosmetics, which bled nicely into her small business in cosmetics and glamour charms, while Padma favoured sensible clothes that only fulfilled a purpose as clothing and nothing more. This was reflected in their personalities, Parvati soaring high and dipping low, and Padma walking sedately somewhere along the middle.

"Oh good," said Lavender, strolled in wearing a shocking pink set of robes that were cinched at the waist sat mid-calf length, leather boots covering the remainder of her leg. The wizarding world was considerably more lenient than the Muggle one, which was lucky for Lavender; the witch owned a boutique in Diagon Alley that she shared with Parvati. "I whipped up something special for your first day, Herms."

"Not me?" asked Padma, amused.

"I already know you have no taste," shot back Lavender. "You never wear anything interesting."

Padma looked completely unperturbed by Lavender's sharp tongue. Hermione scowled, both at the nickname and at the outrageous outfit that Lavender had no doubt invented.

Not one to shy from expectations, Lavender produce some sea green robes, conservatively styled to the ankles, but well-tailored. Hermione surprised herself by not hating it on sight, "Oh Lav, that's actually really nice."

"No need to sound so surprised," sniffed Lavender. "I knew you wouldn't stand for anything truly daring."

"I know you're trying to insult me, but I am oddly flattered," said Hermione. "Parv, can you do something with my hair."

"Yup," she said, cheerfully forcing the curly haired witch into a seat. "I'm doing your glamour as well."

"Sure," she replied, wincing at the tugging in her scalp. Parvati worked silently for a couple of minutes, broken only to greet Pansy when she joined the convention in their room.

When Parvati directed her to the mirror, her hair had been contained in a neat chignon, but her eyes were dramatically lined in kohl and her lips painted pink.

"No," she said firmly, "absolutely not, Parv. I'm going into Healing school, not prostitution."

The dark-skinned witch pouted, "Hermioneee."

"You'd make a good one, Granger," said Pansy, from her position on Hermione's bed. Lavender hit her girlfriend on the shoulder. "What? Just saying."

"Not nice," said Lavender sharply. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Thanks Pans, but I'll pass." Hermione ran her wand over her face, removing the glamour and cosmetics. She was a little pale and there were shadows under eyes, a result of her worrying over her first day. "I'm happy with Healing. I want to be taken seriously."

"Of course you will be," said Pansy. "Our Granger, brightest witch of her age. The first Muggleborn to pursue Healing. We are proud, darling."

"Thanks Pans," said Padma, somehow having avoided the attentions of her sister, sister's best friend, and sister's best friend's girlfriend despite being seated right next to Hermione the entire time.

At 7.30am they left the house, shouting a goodbye to the young Madam Tonks, their boarding-house keeper.

"Good luck," Tonks hollered after them, waving.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Padma completely calmly, and Hermione in knots of nervousness.

"How can you be so calm about this?" asked Hermione.

"We earned this, Herms," said Padma, in a tone that brokered no argument. "You had the best test scores for the last century-"

"Equal best," corrected Hermione.

"-equal best, then." Padma rolled her eyes. "Point is, you deserve to be here. No, in fact, they would have been incredibly stupid not to beg you to be here."

"Aw Pads," said Hermione, face burning.

They slipped through the front window of the Muggle-facing entrance to St Mungo's and hurried through the hallway to the back, where Fawley's Academy for Healing and Medicine was located. There were a number of sensibly dressed young witches and wizards waiting outside the small building.

Hermione groaned when she caught the flash of platinum, stood in a corner with a slightly shorter, darker young man. Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott. Theo was fine, but Malfoy was the most obnoxious person she'd ever had the misfortune to meet.

"You shouldn't be surprised he's here," said Padma. "He was second behind you for grades."

"I know, I know," she said irritably.

"Hermione!"

The shout made her look up to find a young man waving wildly. His short hair was in tightly curled and his skin contrasted with the wide bright smile.

"Hi Dean," she replied, warmly. "I'm so glad you made it."

"Just scraped through, probably fulfilling a Hogwarts quota," he quipped, grinning. "Not enough Gryffindors, though you're worth three you know."

"Hi Hermione," greeted Anthony. "Hi Padma."

Susan and Ernie both added their greetings, which the two girls returned.

Hogwarts was divided into houses, but the nature of their classes in the upper years meant that the lines between the houses blurred. She'd shared Potions with Slytherin and Ravenclaw, Herbology with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with... well, Malfoy and Padma. The core subjects were always single class.

"Ah, I see they're letting in charity cases," Malfoy drawled. "Wouldn't think you'd be able to afford to buy a place, Granger."

"Luckily I didn't have to," replied Hermione, sweetly. "If you'll recall, I trounced you for grades in all subjects. Fawley's were begging me to take a scholarship position."

His face reddened with annoyance, "I don't have to rely on the charity of others to get somewhere."

"Neither do I. I work for it."

She turned her back on him and engaged immediately in a conversation with Anthony Goldstein about the merits of transfiguration as a technique for healing broken bones.

Malfoy looked infuriated, and opened his mouth to respond, but Theo elbowed him in the ribs as the door to the Academy opened. Silence enveloped the group, anticipation holding them over the precipice looking onwards at their future career paths.

A severe looking older woman stepped into the light. She wore bottle-green velvet robes and her wiry black hair, threaded with silver, was pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck. She wore square wire-rimmed spectacles, and the eyes behind them were kind.

"Good morning," the elder witch said in a broad Scottish accent. "I am Associate Director Healer McGonagall. My background is in Transfiguration and Spell Damage. I will take most of your Anatomy and Systems lectures, along with the History of Healing and Muggle Medical Healing Methods. Director Healer Riddle will take your Magic of the Mind, Core Healing Spellwork, and Working with Infants and Children, along with organising your Healing rotations at St Mungo's. Any questions?"

Padma raised her hand. McGonagall nodded for her to speak, and she asked, "When will rotations begin?"

"You will begin after your third week of classes," McGonagall replied crisply. "Any others?"

Malfoy raised his hand, and McGonagall fixed him with a razor-sharp stare. After a few moments, he looked uncomfortable.

"What is your question, Mr Malfoy?"

"How many hours a week are we expected to be attending classes?"

"Your classes will account for 22 hours of study a week. A further 18 will be dedicated to rotations, and you are expected to be undertaking private study of 2 hours for each hour of class you attend."

There was an audible intake of breath at the expected hours.

McGonagall surveyed the waiting students, "If you are unable or unwilling to commit to the schedule, I suggest leaving now and requesting a refund for your tuition paid. It is not an easy course, nor an easy career. You need dedication and passion to succeed."

No one moved. The witch nodded, satisfied, and turned with a sweep of her robes, "Follow me."

They all followed her in to the hallway, lit by the gaslights flickering in sconces along the wall. It opened into a large hall lined with stained glass windows. As Hermione examined them, she realised they were depicting spell damage and curses, macabre scenes of surgeries and procedures, magical and Muggle.

There were desks and chairs sat in pairs at the front of the room, where a young man stood observing as they filed into the room with an unreadable expression on his face. He was classically handsome, with a patrician nose and a strong jawline. His eyes, which tracked each student as they took a seat, were brown threaded with gold, like cognac spilt across a walnut dining table and glimmering under candle light, presented to the world under well-groomed brows.

He was a man who exuded calculated intelligence. Judging by his plain-but-clearly-expensive bottle-green robes, and the embroidered wand and bone on his lapel, this was Director Healer Riddle. Hermione knew of his achievements in the Healing world – Riddle was the holder of the equal-best test scores of the century, and therefore someone she had followed with interest in the papers and journals delivered by post each week to her dorm. At age 31 he had risen through the ranks to land in the Director role for the Fawley's Academy for Healing and Medicine, a paltry five years after graduating from the school himself.

Padma, seated beside her, muttered, "I bet Lav would be disappointed she didn't work harder on her grades."

Hermione's gaze flickered back up to the handsome man at the front of the classroom and fought the smirk that threatened to erupt at the thought of Lavender trying to keep up with the class for the sake of some eye-candy. She retrieved a quill and parchment from her bag, using the movement to hide her amused expression.

Riddle stepped forward, sunlight glinting off his inky hair, "Good morning everyone. I am Director Healer Riddle and I am mostly responsible for the direction of the Healing program you will be undertaking. Minerva will have already spoken about the classes you are to take and the expectations we have of you. The course is demanding, the job even more so."

He looked around the room, each of the students hanging off his every word, and smiled. The expression transformed his face, eyes dancing and perfectly proportioned lips revealing even, white teeth. It was not fair, Hermione thought, resolutely ignoring his unblemished skin and high cheekbones, that someone would be allowed to have such an extensive list of flawless features.

"You are all the cream of the crop. We have the best students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gaoth Sáile Acadahm Thaumaturgy, and Arisaig Highland Sgoil na Wizardry. We expect the best because you are the best. We are here to help because we want you to succeed. So, if you need help – ask. If you are struggling with coursework or you are ill or you are in anyway finding things difficult, please reach out to faculty. We cannot help if we do not know you are finding things difficult. Any questions?"

The room was silent as he finished his speech. Hermione watched a redheaded girl from Arisaig Sgoil flush when Riddle's gaze skittered over her.

Hermione raised her hand. Riddle turned his eyes to her, "Yes, Miss...?"

"Granger, sir. Hermione Granger."

"Ah, yes. Miss Granger, my almost-usurper," he said, genially, but he had become suddenly chary. Hermione felt uncomfortably like hunted prey, pinned in place by his eyes. "We are... delighted to welcome you. Your question?"

Hermione suddenly felt that Riddle had given her a full scholarship for the express purpose of keeping a close eye on her, which was ridiculous, of course. She raised her chin and asked, "When will we receive class schedules?"

"Granger, ever eager," mocked Malfoy, a couple of seats to her left.

"If you are not eager for the coursework to begin, perhaps you are in the wrong place Mr Malfoy," said Riddle, not breaking eye contact with Hermione. "You will be handed schedules shortly. I have split you into two cohorts. For the duration of the course you will be partnered with whomever your first rotation is with. You get some choice in your rotation, however each department only has two places per rotation, so it is first in best dressed."

Silence echoed again and Riddle stood aside for McGonagall. She briskly handed them each a schedule and another slip of paper that listed rotation options and asked them to select their preferences. Hermione scribbled a 1 beside the Mind Healing option and numbered the others haphazardly. She wasn't sure of what she wanted to try besides Mind Healing, so it didn't much matter what her other preferences were ordered in.

A glance over at Padma's schedule showed their classes were inverse, and her first preference was given for the Tinctures, Tonics, Potions and Poisons department. It looked like they would not get much time together.

McGonagall collected rotation choice forms and then left the cohort to Riddle to take them through the orientation.

"Alright everyone, follow me. The Fawley Academy is what is known as a teaching hospital; clients can access low cost Healing for procedures not covered by the Ministry's Statute of Medically Indicated Healing and Wellbeing fund, on the proviso they are happy to be treated by Healing students. We are located inside St Mungo's. The reason there is separation between the public and teaching hospitals is to allow for emergency services to function unhindered. You will have rotations within both hospitals."

He led them through to the hallway opposite the one they had entered through and opened a door to their left. A witch in the same green robes as McGonagall and Riddle stood in the centre of the treatment room. Another witch in brilliant orange robes stood to the side.

"This is Healer Madam Poppy Pomfrey, and Mediwitch Penelope Clearwater. They run the outpatient clinic that deals with non-urgent cases. Think of them like a school infirmary of sorts – minor injuries and maladies that can be taken care of in under an hour, or to assess the need for further intervention, in which case the patient would be referred to Mungo's."

"Good morning, welcome to Fawley's." The Madam treated them all to a genuine smile. "Many students don't consider general healing when they begin their training. It is not as high profile or exciting as urgent care or Innovation and Research, or even Mind Healing," a fond smile at Riddle, "But it is an important aspect of Healing, and I urge you to consider it. This will be one of your mandatory rotations."

The Madam stood aside to give the floor to the younger witch, Penelope. Penelope spoke softly but commanded the attention of the students easily, "Good morning. My name is Penny, and I'm a graduate of the Mediwitch stream here at Fawley's. I chose general healing as my specialty and I assist the Madam with day procedures and running of the clinic. You will work alongside Mediwitches and wizards in any Healing specialty, so if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask me."

"A mediwitch doesn't have anything they could teach me," muttered Malfoy, rolling his eyes.

Theo ground his heel into his friend's toes.

"Ow, what was that for?" Malfoy hissed.

"Stop being a prat," responded Theo, not taking his eyes off Penny.

"Harry Potter, here to see Police Sergeant Krum," Harry handed over the papers that had been bundled hastily into his arms before he had left the Ministry. The door jangled behind him and a tendril of cold air snuck into the room and kissed the back of his neck.

"Sorry I'm late," panted Ron, reaching the counter. "I only got the missive ten minutes ago, I came as soon as I could."

The redheaded man turned to the constable behind the counter and handed over his own set of papers, "Ronald Weasley, here to see Sargeant Krum."

The constable nodded and took both sets of papers, disappearing into the station beyond the door. Harry turned back to Ron and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Good to see you. I wasn't sure if the owl would catch you before you went in to the morning briefing."

"Only just caught me because I was running late," confessed Ron with a small grin. "I haven't had the chance to see what we're looking at, what's the case?"

"Krum's been put in charge of investigating a series of murders and disappearances," Harry glanced around and then lowered his voice. "They think it's supernatural in nature. Might be linked to the Eliza Davis case."

"The cold case?"

Harry nodded in confirmation. The door behind the counter opened and the constable scuttled out, followed by a heavy-set man in a navy uniform. He was neatly shaven and had a scowl on his face, his brows like two furry caterpillars fighting for dominance on his forehead.

"Potter, Veasley," he said, lips stretching into an approximation of a smile. He spoke in a gruff voice with a strong Bulgarian accent. "Sargeant Viktor Krum, thanks for attending. Follow me."

The two wizards exchanged a bemused look but followed behind the man as he led them through the cacophony of daily activity within the building. They reached a separated room at the rear of the building, a solid steel door surround by solid stone.

"This is the mortuary. It is cold inside, my apologies. The Coroner has requested the deceased be kept in a cold climate."

He turned back to the door, producing a key from his pocket. He wrestled with the lock momentarily, and then opened the door and stood aside to let them enter.

The room was dimly lit by gaslights, flickering from their sockets in the corners of the room. A large solid slab sat in the middle of the room, with a sheet over what Harry assumed was the body. There were a variety of instruments and vials on the bench that spanned one side of the room. His breath thickened and hung in the air, which was unnaturally cold and still.

"I haff organised vith the Coroner to show you through privately. Ve suspect involvement of the not-natural variety."

He pulled the sheet back to reveal the body of a woman. Young, by Harry's estimation, late teenhood or early adulthood. The cadaver was in decent condition, all limbs attached and unblemished. Then his gaze drifted to the face and he resisted, with some difficulty, the urge to recoil in horror.

The face and scalp had been burnt beyond recognition. Precious little hair remained, and the skin had bubbled and warped, leaving parts of the bone underneath exposed and charred.

Krum was watching him carefully, and upon noticing the minute tick of his face when Harry took in the condition of the corpse's face, he nodded grimly, "Ve haff not yet conducted an autopsy, but my suspicion is that the brain vill be boiled."

Ron greened, "When did you find her?"

"This morning." He indicated for them to look closer, which they did with some reluctance. "There vere vitnesses who claim they saw a young voman dragged into an alcove in Lloyd Court by a tall figure, and when they ran after them, vitnessed the voman's head alight and a laughing creature who then leapt over the building, thirty feet in the air."

"That's not possible," muttered Harry, taking out a sheet of parchment to scribble down the notes. "Not for an average Muggle – sorry, that's non-Magical person."

Krum nodded in acknowledgement.

"Thirty foot, without magic? Unlikely," said Ron, frowning as he examined the exposed bone. "You'd be lucky to survive falling that – not impossible, but unlikely – but to jump, from the ground, and reach thirty foot?" He straightened up and faced Krum again. "I think you were right to contact the Auror Corps."

"Ve vere instructed to contact you if there vas a case that seemed supernatural. This seems to be that vay."

Harry drew his wand and brandished it over the body, murmuring the incantation for a forensic diagnostic charm. The spell seemed to hover in tangible form over the body before sinking in to the flesh.

They waited for the two minutes the spell took in tense silence. A veil of misted magic rose from the body and took the shape of a variety of symbols and runes, all in a distinct green hue. Ron leaned forward to read them.

"Definitely Magical. Energy similar to a creature, or a spirit. Say like the Hogwarts ghosts or something, Harry."

Krum looked wary, "Vot does that mean?"

Harry looked grim, "It means it was likely a Magical creature or spirit that has killed this woman. Have you got any leads at all?"

"Ve believe she is connected to a spate of disappearances across the city. Young women, usually vealthy."

"The way it always is," said Ron, sadly. "Alright, we'll begin preliminary investigations."

"If anything else comes up, you can contact us by asking your Chief Inspector to contact Dumbledore." Harry added.

Krum nodded. He escorted them out of the mortuary without another word.

AUTHORS NOTE: Welcome to another wonderful story inspired by the amazing and incredible .Villain who is the QUEEN of AU Tomione's (go check em out!). This will be infrequently updated while I plod along on my other fics but I can't resist sharing this with you. Enjoy.

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW

~ Maeve