The Royal Librarian
Chapter 1: The Apprentice
Summary: Hermione had done what no one before had been able to accomplish and as a reward for her achievements she's given an opportunity to thrive in a coveted position in the empire. In the Age of discovery renewed where science and magic meld together, she is charged with overseeing all of the Empires knowledge and while she's at it she just may discover something even grander.
Character Casts for this chapter are:
Emma Watson: Hermione Granger
Idris Elba: Kinglsey Shacklebot
Ezra Miller: Sirius Black
Matthew Grew Gubler: Remus Lupin
xXx
It was in the headlines of every paper on the morning of her twenty second birthday. Her greatest achievement so far. Hermione sat proudly poised as she read each article over her morning tea and pastry. Almost everyone praised her accomplishments and marveled at her status. The master she apprenticed under was proud of her too. Not since Rowena Ravenclaw had an apprentice achieved so much, so young in life. Her master was thrilled to call her his student already and this simply added to his pride in her.
Hundreds of years before, the Great Wizard Merlin had traveled the world in his final years and encoded several volumes worth of his observations. His final moments in life were spent abroad, devoid of his closest compatriots. And so, on his dying breath he neglected to share the secret to decoding his travel journals. Scholars had tried for centuries to figure out the cypher, convinced there was some deeper logic, some groundbreaking truth written there, but to no avail. This work was not encoded the way his previous work had been and so, with but a single line of text not encrypted, a clue in most minds, the race to decypher began.
"May you find what you seek, your heart be filled with love, and your mind always open."
It took Hermione stumbling across a lesser known account of The Great Wizard and his only apprentice to realize what Merlin had done. In the account, Merlin and his apprentice had argued. The apprentice believed that Arithmancy equations could be used to "Hide things" as much as it could be used to discern probabilities. Those were the exact words in the text and it struck a chord in Hermione's mind. She spent the better part of a year tracking down every writing the Apprentice had ever composed until she found it. The arithmancy equation he had written for just such a purpose and Merlin had used to encode his final work. With it, she had proven it possible to decode the texts.
Hermione crumpled up the final newspaper and tossed it toward the open fire with what she hoped wasn't obvious malice. It seemed not every paper was singing her praises. Not that she needed her praises sung by anyone, but this particular publication was rather ruthless.
"The Prophet?" Her master questioned without lowering the paper he was reading. The Quibbler; a bit fanciful, but the proprietor was a good man with honest intentions.
"Yes sir." she sniffed haughtily.
The Prophet was near extinction and everyone knew it, everyone one but those who worked for the publication that is. It had ventured more toward tabloidesque news a few years back when it printed a few elitestly toned articles on Lily Evans, the, at that time, soon to be wife of Crowned Prince James. Lily was "A commoner" as the article read and the future king had fallen madly in love with her despite their differing social standings. The author of the article, Rita Skeeter, hinted that perhaps a love potion had been involved and the much respected Prince needed to be saved from the scheming muggleborn. Lily was beloved by the kingdom's population because she was one of them and for the first time since Godric Gryffindor ruled as High King in the age of discovery, the people felt as if they were a part of the royal family as well. And so the articles did not sit well with the people and most had turned to "shunning" the publication and those involved with it.
"You know better than to take that rag seriously, my dear." Kingsley Shacklebot told her, folding up The Quibbler and setting it aside. "Rita Skeeter is a bitter old woman who made her bed years ago." he continued. "She may be fighting the urge to lie in it now, but she won't hold out for much longer if she keeps up this elitist view of the world."
Hermione sighed. "I know you are right sir."
Kingsley smiled down at the young woman he had come to think of as a daughter. When Hermione had found her way to his doorstep four years earlier, recently orphaned, he had been hesitant to accept her bid as his apprentice. The young witch was clearly avoiding grieving for her loss and he wasn't sure it was so healthy to allow that to continue under his watchful eye.
Kingsley had had no choice but to accept her bid however, as she proved herself not only talented with magic but highly intelligent. So he kept an eye on her on the days she neglected her own health for work and for four years now she had surpassed expectation.
Hermione had taken the Merlin Journals on as a side project and he warned her not to get her hopes up in solving them. But Kingsley should have known better. Nothing could stop Hermione Granger, magical daughter of non magic folk, from achieving that which she set her mind to.
"Good." Kingsley exclaimed, jumping to his feet satisfied and banishing the breakfast plates with a wave of his wand. "Now, we should be on our way. They're expecting us at the summer palace."
"Yes, sir." Hermione replied standing as well. She ran into the study and gathered her research materials stuffing them into her old beaded bag with the undetectable extension charm and quickly made her way to the door where Kingsley was waiting. She slipped on her coat and pinned her hat in place, threw up a cooling charm around her for good measure-the summer heat with these petticoats would be utterly dreadful- and a moment later they were off, hailing a hansom on the street.
xXx
The clockwork horse drew to a stop with a rush of steam outside the Royal Family's summer home on the outskirts of the city. The end of summer celebration was just around the corner and with it a frenzy of preparedness had begun. Booths and tables and stages alike were appearing like magic, lining the main pathways of Hufflepuff Gardens. Vendors and Inventors prepared their stock and trade for sale and exhibition. Chefs stockpiled supplies to feed the hungry masses and the masses themselves were filled with joyous anticipation for the coming events.
Hermione was nervous. She had every confidence in her work and her ability, but the Merlin Journals were a centuries old mystery and to think a little Muggle born like her from a modest family could solve in eighteen months what scholars devoted their entire lives to studying was hard to believe. She had no idea what she was walking into in there. For all she knew she would be laughed out of the hall as a foolish little girl who needed to learn her place.
The mere thought made her temper boil and she screwed up her courage and ascended the stairs along side her Master. As she reached the top someone came charging past her, knocking her bag from her shoulder in a glancing collision.
"Oh Merlin's beard, I'm so sorry." a melodic voice answered as she regained her bearings.
"That's quite alright." she replied stooping to retrieve her bag. Before she could reach it a hand shot out, scooping it up for her.
"Quite the gaudy little thing." the man continued with a laugh, twisting the bag around in his hands. Hermione straightened up then, her face screwed up in very unladylike indignation ready to give this stranger a lesson in manners, only to stop short at the sight of him.
The man was tall and well groomed. He dressed like an aristocrat in a brilliant red waistcoat and black robes. His boots were dragonhyde of the highest quality and well loved by the looks of them. His face was all sharp angles, high cheekbones and regal nose and he had the most beautifully soft, pouty lips she'd ever seen. He had long wavy black hair worn to the shoulder and his eyes, dear Godric his eyes. Poets could produce limitless prose about the depths of his starry silver eyes. They danced with amusement and at the moment she could not find it in herself to care that it was at her expense.
"Excellent work Pads, you've managed to offend the young woman and you don't even know her name." A second voice called out and Hermione turned to find another man, undoubtedly the same age as the first, strolling toward them. He was much taller than the first, his hair a sandy blonde and his clothes not quite so aristocratic, his waistcoat tweed, his robes a dark grey. He was clearly a simple man and no less handsome for it. There was quite the scar cut across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks but it only drew one's eyes up to the amber pools of his own eyes. There was power in them, both supernatural and familiar.
Hermione found herself rooted to the spot. Her throat felt as though she had just spent a considerable amount of time in the desert with no water. A ringing had begun in her ears, similar to the atmospheric buzz of electrical current that flowed through clock work hybrids. For the life of her she couldn't stop staring, unable to speak, unable to move. Like prey caught in a predator's gaze she was trapped and yet, surprisingly, unafraid.
"There you are." Kingsley appeared at her side drawing her from the spell she found herself under. "What are you doing here my dear? Hurry, hurry, we don't want to be late."
"No, of course not Master." she replied, her voice small. She turned to the unknown men to find the first smiling at her and holding out her bag.
"My apologies ma'am. I didn't mean to keep you." he told her bowing slightly. Hermione took the bag, curtsied and turned to follow her teacher, all the while aware of the eyes that followed her.
xXx
She was in shock. It was the only word to suitably describe the sound of blood rushing in her ears, drowning out the steady beats of iron hooves on cobblestone.
The hansom stopped outside the Shacklebot estate later that evening, allowing master and student to disembark. Kingsley paid the driver before turning away and leading the trek up the stone path to the front door.
It wasn't until they were inside that Hermione found the words to speak.
"Why master?" she asked sincerely confused. Kingsley turned to smile kindly at her.
"Because you deserve it. You have far surpassed any apprentice I have ever taught and while I've no doubt there is still much for you to learn, you won't learn it here in this stuffy old manor with me."
"But I don't want to leave!" she exclaimed her voice rising an octave much to her embarrassment.
"And how it warms my heart to hear you say such a thing." he laughed. "But now is your chance to really make a difference. To leave your mark on history more than you already have. This new position will give you status and power in society. Your name will hold weight not only in academic circles but in social ones as well."
Hermione huffed. "You sound like a father trying to convince his daughter that her arranged marriage is for the best."
"I suppose I am." Kingsley replied thoughtfully. "In the last few years you have made me proud like a father, and I know your parents would be proud of you as well."
Hermione smiled tears pricking at her eyes. "Thank you sir."
Kingsley grinned. "Don't sound so final my dear. It's as if you think you'll never see me again. You won't be a prisoner in the Palace. And a father fully expects his daughter to come visit him."
Hermione laughed. "Of course."
Kingsley nodded in finality and said; "Now that that's out of the way we can focus on the exciting news. Lady Hermione Granger, Royal Librarian, Master Scholar. And only twenty two at that. Not even that decrepit old witch at The Prophet could spin this against you. Not with the King and Queen's blessing at your back."
Hermione smiled truly proud of herself. She had set out on the evening of her parents funerals with a resolute mind and a determination to make things happen for herself. And here she was, twenty two and already considered a master and thanks to her teacher she had been instated as Britannia's Royal Librarian, a coveted position for scholars that had been vacant since the Lady Pince had passed the previous winter. It was by her master's suggestion, after he'd seen first hand how impressed the Royal court had been with her achievement, that she take on the role. King Charlus and Queen Euphemia could not have agreed more. Their confidence in her was only supported by the agreement of their successors, The Crowned Prince James and his wife, Princess Lily
In two days time she would leave for the Royal Palace where she would make residence and begin her full translations of the Merlin Journals as well as maintaining the empire's vast collection of knowledge.
Hermione retired early that night in the hopes of calming her nerves and she soon slipped into dreams lit but silvery starlight and amber fire. Where she had spent the day trying to put these things out of her mind, trying to ignore their pull, here in the safety of her own bed she could embrace their warmth and comfort.