Chapter 2: Of Myths and Legends
Harry already had a dustpan and broom out as Ron sat down next to Hermione.
"Right. I'm sure it's nothing," he said. "I mean, you've just had the shock of your life, haven't you? Your whole system's bound to be a little wonky."
"I'm sure you're right, Ron. It should clear up shortly, I think. Meanwhile, I'll just have to remember to use a bit less power when casting. I'll get used to it."
By midday, the problem had not yet cleared up, and Hermione was still having trouble with household spells. When her condition still hadn't improved by teatime, the boys started to get worried.
"I'm just going to let Mum and them know that I'll be over here for a few days," Ron said. "If your magic's acting all funny, you should probably have some help, you know?"
"Right," Harry said. "I'll just tell Kreacher not to expect me home for the next little bit, too. Kreacher!" Harry called, and the wizened old house elf appeared in Hermione's sitting room.
"Yes, master? Kreacher replied. "Is you coming - You!" he exclaimed upon seeing Hermione, who squirmed a bit under Kreacher's intense stare.
"Right, well, Hermione's magic is acting a bit funny at the moment, so I'm going to be staying here for a few days until it clears up or we find out what's wrong with her. So if you don't mind, would you please pack a suitcase for me and bring it over here?"
"She is not changings back, Master," Kreacher replied. "More than this, I cannot says. I is bringing you back the suitcases. Watch for her, Master. She is very important."
Before Harry had a chance to answer the house elf, there was a quick, but quiet sound of dresser drawers opening and closing. That and a light breeze blowing through the room were the only hints that Kreacher had been back with Harry's clothes.
"Batty old elf," Ron remarked. "Amazing that he's lasted this long, I guess."
"I have no idea what he was talking about," Harry said, "but I'm sure it's nothing. He's become a bit senile in his old age. Sometimes he forgets to put cream in my tea, instead of milk. It's the little things, you see."
"Right," Ron said. "Don't you mind him, Hermione. It'll clear up. I'll be back in a jif with my things."
Three days later, Hermione's condition had still not changed, and the boys accompanied her to St. Mungo's to see if the healers could determine what was wrong with her. The hospital ground to a halt when the three war heroes appeared, and every healer in the place, regardless of specialty, lined up in the VIP wing, making sure they'd one day be able to tell their grandchildren that they once treated the great Hermione Granger, heroine of the Second Wizarding War.
So when it came time to deliver Hermione the terrible news about what they found, it fell to the Chief Senior Healer, Sarah Bellam herself to do the consultation.
"Miss Granger, I'm terribly sorry to tell you this, but we've found absolutely nothing wrong with you. In fact, quite the opposite. Many healers were commenting that they had never seen anyone in such good condition as yourself, ma'am. You're about as healthy as can be, if not healthier."
Harry and Ron looked at each other worriedly. A diagnosis - any diagnosis - would have been preferable to this, but what the healer was suggesting was that -
"So, you don't think this is going away, then? I'm going to be stuck like this?"
"My dear, I simply do not know. The only suggestion I can offer is that you seek out the Department of Mysteries. There is a fellow there, goes by the name of Ephraim. He's working on a test for something that's a bit, shall we say, experimental. Then again, with all you've been through, I doubt the commonplace is terribly common to you, anyway. What he's working on has been shrouded in mythology and rumor since the days of Merlin, so I daren't say it aloud here. But no matter, being who you are and with what you've done, I don't suppose you'll have much trouble getting to see him, will you?"
"Then you're suggesting I go straight away to see this Mr - Ephraim, you said his name was?"
"Yes, that's right," Healer Bellam replied. "But first, would you mind signing this for my granddaughter? She's starting Hogwarts next year, and has talked about nothing so much as growing up to be just like you one day."
Graciously, Hermione signed the bit of parchment that the Healer presented. The three of them signed a separate parchment for the Healer herself, and they flooed directly from Healer Bellam's office to the Ministry Atrium, where they were afforded a VIP escort directly to the Department of Mysteries. From there, a junior Unspeakable escorted them to the Chamber of Magic, where Ephraim was waiting.
"Thank you. You are excused," Ephraim said to the junior Unspeakable, who nodded in recognition and then went about her business, shutting the door behind her with solemnity.
"Very well, then. As you are aware, because you asked for me personally, my name is Ephraim. Now, no less a man than Minister Shacklebolt informed me that the three of you hold the Ministry's highest security clearance, and therefore I am at liberty to disclose to you anything I wish about my work. As this work is extraordinarily sensitive, however, I would ask that you keep amongst the three of you anything you hear in this room. Is that clear?"
The trio nodded their heads, and for the first time since early May, they felt more than a bit intimidated by their surroundings.
"Now, Miss Granger, Healer Bellam told me some about your condition, and I believe the problem you are experiencing isn't a problem at all, but rather an enlargement of your Magical Core."
"My what?" Hermione said, laughing. "My Magical Core? Right. Next thing you're going to tell me is that I must use the Force to control it. Am I on the wireless or something? Is this a joke?"
Ephraim let Hermione's line of questioning run its course before he continued. "Not at all, Miss Granger. In fact, knowledge of the Magical Core is something we in the Mysterious disciplines have had since the 7th Century. Up until the Enlightenment, magical children were often tested for the size and strength of their magical cores. Those with smaller cores were left in the woods to die. So, beginning in 1792, all public testing of Magical Cores stopped, and anyone who was caught performing that test was immediately sent through the veil without trial. A government could enact drastic measures like that in the 18th Century."
"Alright," Hermione replied. "Then why is it a myth today? Why isn't the concept of a Magical Core simply ignored or unheard of?"
"Because people are going to ask themselves - and each other, for that matter - why some witches' and wizards' spells have more potency than others. It was easier to encourage the populace to create mythology, rather than have to answer awkward questions every few generations when someone figured it out. This way, when a scientifically-inclined person does discover the Magical Core, they will be branded a crackpot, and the idea will be summarily dismissed."
Harry was stunned. "But - but that's blatant, naked manipulation of the people!" he protested.
Ephraim smiled as one would to a five year old who was told he couldn't have a candy bar. "My dear boy," he said, "what is it that you think the purpose of Government is?"
Harry had no answer for this question. Ephraim continued.
"So it is my hypothesis, Miss Granger, that something has affected your Magical Core, and it has spontaneously enlarged itself. Now, obviously, we do not have earlier records of previous Core tests, but perhaps we may use your friends here as a control. Now, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley? Have either of you experienced the same change in your magic? Or any change over the last week, for that matter?"
Seeing both boys shake their heads, Ephraim continued.
"Well then, Miss Granger, compared to your friends here, how would you rate your magical potency before the change?"
"Harry's has always been much more powerful than mine - more powerful than anyone I've ever met, actually. Ron's was closer, but still a bit stronger. I always relied on my intellect more than raw power."
Ephraim smiled. "If the stories are to be believed, Miss Granger, I would expect nothing less. Now, Mr. Weasley, you're up first. Please lie down on the examination table, and I will examine your magical core.
Ron did as he was asked, and Ephraim became a blur of activity. Runestones were activated, silver and gold implements whirred along, and Ephraim's wandwork was so quick that his hands were nearly invisible. Ninety seconds later, Ephraim came to a stop, and helped Ron down from the table.
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Now, based on the most recent data we have, the size of your Magical Core is 1.2 sigma above the mean, and its strength is 2.3 sigma above. Excellent, Mr. Weasley. You must exercise your Core often."
"Yeah," Ron said, sheepishly. "I've got a bit of magic in over the last year or two, you might say."
"Of course," the Unspeakable replied. "Mr. Potter, you're next. Up you go."
When Ephraim finished the examination, he let out a low whistle.
"My goodness. I've heard the legends, sir, but this is quite remarkable. Six full standard deviations above the mean both in size and strength. Truly, those are once in a generation numbers."
True to form, Harry sheepishly looked towards the ground. Hermione thought she heard him mutter "I had a lot of help," but she wasn't entirely sure.
"Very well, up you go, Miss Granger."
After Hermione's test was finished, Ephraim looked puzzled. "No, no. This can't be right. Let me try this again," he said, and began the test over. After he'd run the Core test for the third time, getting the same result each time, he helped Hermione down from the table.
"Miss Granger, your results are simply extraordinary. Your scores both for size and strength of core are in the top one-tenth of one percent of every witch and wizard who took this test between 684 and 1736. I have never seen numbers this high, nor do I expect to again in my lifetime. Miss Granger, if, as you say, your magical potency was behind both Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, then something has dramatically altered your core. I have no way of knowing what it is, I have no way of knowing whether it's dangerous or whether it will reverse itself eventually, but my suggestion is that you learn to adjust. Now then, we will, of course, be launching a comprehensive study of your condition over the next few months, as -"
"No you won't," Hermione answered.
"Pardon me?"
"You will not use my Magical Core or any other part of me as a laboratory experiment. Whilst I appreciate your dedication to science, I simply will not allow myself to become your subject."
Ephraim was flustered. He had expected Hermione to jump at the chance to be a part of such a groundbreaking study.
"The Department is prepared to generously compensate you for your time, Miss Granger."
Hermione scoffed. "No it isn't. The Ministry is nearly bankrupt, Hogwarts is still in ruins, there are more prisoners than Aurors - certainly you have better things to spend a taxpayer's Galleon on than compensating me for my time as a guinea pig in an experiment I have no desire to be a part of." Hermione saw his puzzled look, but ignored it. "Now, sir, if there is nothing further, we will take our leave."
Hermione turned on her heel and walked out of the Chamber of Magic, her super-powered alohomora turning opening the vault-like door with ease. As Ron and Harry followed behind her, Ephraim grabbed Ron's arm to talk to him.
"You'll talk to her, son, won't you?" he pleaded. "Make her see reason, I'm sure this was just a rash decision that -"
"Are you mental?" Ron asked. "She said she didn't want to be a part of your wonky experiment, so she's not going to be. She's a grown woman and a war heroine, and you would do well to treat her as such. Meanwhile, we're leaving."
The Trio made their way to the 9th floor elevators and down to the lobby, and from there they flooed to the Leaky Cauldron for tea. It was one of the few places they could go in Diagon Alley without being assaulted by 'well-wishers' at every turn. Tom ran a tight shift, and their classmate Hannah Abbott's DA-trained wand ensured that nothing got out of hand. In addition to Hannah, Tom had also purchased a house-elf, Globo, who cleaned the dishes and dusted the light-fixtures seemingly in the same breath. But when Globo saw Hermione, he stopped cold in his tracks.
"Yous!" he said, pointing. "Yous the one that's talked about!"
"Well, we had a lot of help, you see," Hermione said, apologetically, "and -"
"Yous the one the Seeing Elf said - No!"
And with that, Globo fell to the floor, clutching his chest. Hermione jumped up and felt for a pulse. Noting that there wasn't one, she began CPR, hoping against hope that Elven hearts were in the same general location as Human ones. After ten minutes she began to tire, and after twelve minutes her arms could barely move. She rested her head on the house elf's chest, and pictured him alive again, and free, and she began to cry softly for the life he wouldn't have. A dome of soft lavender light became visible around Hermione and Globo. As hat dome became more intense, and the light shifted colors to magenta, then blue, then green, then yellow. And when it got to white, the light became very bright indeed, and then all at once disappeared.
Globo began to cough, and Hermione looked at him in surprise before hugging him tightly.
"Easy there, Hermione," Ron said. "You just brought him back to life; you don't want to go suffocating him again, do you?"
Hermione chuckled. "No, I don't suppose." She got up from the floor and, feeling quite faint, sat down quickly.
"Oh my," she said. "That took a lot out of me. Didn't even know I was doing it, to be honest." And at that, she put her head on the table and passed out. Globo snapped his fingers, and at once, he, Hermione, Harry and Ron were in the master bedroom back in Cheltenham, Hermione laid out on the bed, and the two boys and the house elf standing next to her.
An hour and a half, and one sparkling clean house later, Hermione awoke to find the boys playing Exploding Snap in the sitting room, while Globo was in the kitchen, biding his time.
"Oh, Mistress is being up now," he exclaimed, latching himself onto Hermione's leg and startling the still groggy young woman. When they heard this, Ron and Harry made their way to the kitchen to check on their friend.
"Hello, Globo," Hermione said, gingerly peeling the elf's hands off her leg. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, I is feeling fine, Mistress," he replied. "I is cleaning yous house, and it is clean now. Food is in cold machine, and tea is warm."
"Oh, some tea would be lovely," Hermione said, and she didn't get the words all the way out of her mouth before Globo had a cup and saucer with tea, and milk and sugar at the ready.
"Globo is sorry he isn't knowing how Mistress takes her tea," Globo said. "Globo iz baking his feets now."
"Globo! No. Please don't do that," Hermione said. "And please don't call me 'Mistress,' either. It's disturbing. My name is Hermione. And while I appreciate all that you've done here, don't you think you'd better get back to Tom and Hannah?"
Globo shook his head vigorously. "No, Mistress Herminnynee, I is not going back to Tom. Yous saved Globo's life. Globo is yous house elf now."
Ron and Harry could barely contain their laughter. Hermione was red with embarrassment, and more than a little amused at the irony of the situation herself.
"Not a word, you two," she said to the boys. "Not a word."