Chapter III
She knew she should've not cared of Draco Malfoy's life choices and pains, but she couldn't help but soften her attitude towards him.
And of course she knew it was none of her business, but she couldn't help but wonder why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe it was just because McGonagall made him.
"Miss Granger," croaked a voice in front of her desk. A goblin was intently studying her, and had been for some time, she realized. It was Ragnok the Red, he handled the Curse-breakers for the bank.
"Yes."
"You will be sent to Iran on Monday, next week," he said placing a roll of parchment in front of her. "Be ready for departure at these coordinates, at dawn. You'll find the list of items it is mandatory to bring listed there."
Without awaiting a reply, he left.
She had dreaded missions, before. Now, she found that she welcomed them. It might give her new sources to research the curse of the muggles.
She almost smiled at how easily her thoughts had drifted so closely to him without actually remembering. She had noticed that everytime she entered her apartment she wanted to find him sleeping in her bed, or on the couch, with his legs draped over the cushions. She wanted to here his voice.
As soon as Harry had asked her to help him she had managed to stay away from the pain he had caused her. And she realized that her recent interest in Malfoy's motivations and life was just another distraction.
She stood up from her desk, and closed the door of her small office. She silently cast a Muffliato, and let her shoulders rest against the door.
She forgot how much love can hurt. She remembered the times when she felt sure and confident she was never going to suffer at Ron Weasley's hands again.
It hurt that she was wrong, and it hurt even more that she knew she was the cause of it all. Had she taken the time, she would've noticed Ron was not ok.
She could've stopped it from happening, she would've fixed things when she still could.
Her back slid against the door, and she sat down, hot tears lining her face.
She was just as guilty as he was.
At the next meeting at the Three Broomsticks, she told McGonagall of her assignment and the teacher promised to send news as soon as there were any changes.
Neville had found the Wiggentree while Malfoy had nothing.
"That's for the better," said McGonagall, decisively.
"They started to moan, Minerva," said Madame Pompfrey. "I hardly think it is. Miss Granger, if you have any occasion, please, try and outsource the missing ingredients. Merlin knows you might have more luck in another country."
"It is not about the country, Madam Pompfrey," said Malfoy a little irritated. "I reached for my contacts in France as well as here, no one seems to be able to find what we're looking for."
"I'll look for them, as well as I can," Hermione interjected.
The woman nodded, and she and McGonagall, after concurring that there was nothing more to be learned or decided upon, left, followed by Neville shortly after.
"Can't wait to prove yourself, Granger?"
Hermione had already started to rise from her spot on the sofa when he uttered those words.
"What, Malfoy?"
"Your help was never needed nor wanted." She almost laughed in his face. So he did want to take the credit for curing his ex-girlfriend's parents. Whatever goodwill had appeared towards him vanished.
"You think I care about your opinion?" She moved to face him. "I must apologise, then, it was never my intention."
He laughed sardonically. "Keep to your job, Granger."
"Or what? You'll go and tell on me?"
He clenched his jaw before opening his mouth to say something else but changed his mind mid-breath and stormed out of the room, without a single sound.
And there went any good feeling she had towards Draco Malfoy.
Iran was one of the most beautiful places Hermione had ever seen. Infinite valleys welcomed her when her Portkey landed in the middle of an arid desert. She started coughing through the tears looked around in search of her guide.
Two horses were standing in the morning sun, side by side facing her. Between them, a boy not older than sixteen was giving her a wide smile.
"Welcome to Iran, Miss Granger!"
Taken aback, and still coughing, she did not return the pleasantries. "I'm sorry, need a moment."
He grabbed a flask from one of the horse's saddle and rushed to her. The moment the water touched her lips, her coughing stopped.
"Thank you," she gasped. "My name's Hermione. No need for the Miss Granger."
"I'm Xenis," he said, still smiling.
"Where do we go?"
Xenis brought one of the horses to her. It was a dark brown stallion that puffed when he gave her the rains.
"Hope you know how to ride."
"A little. Don't you use brooms here?"
Xenis shook his head. "We don't have them, we mostly use carpets or horses. I prefer horses."
"So what's the site?"
"I can't say anything yet, my boss will tell you when we arrive at the camp."
Hermione nodded. "Who's your boss?"
"Caliph Ay," said Xenis. "He's very old school. The one who actually contacted you was Fidda," he said. When he saw Hermiones confusion he added, "One of his wives. She's trying to protect the old Wizard sites and tombs from the la alsihr, the normal people."
"They need protected?"
"We're not in England, Hermione, war here is an eventuality not out of the ordinary."
He helped her get on her horse and off they went. Xenis had to hide his laughter when she could not get her horse to start walking. She shot him a glace that made him look away, but she could see his shoulders still shaking.
The caliphate of Iran was hidden between the country's montains and valleys with its only entrance a narrow passage marked by the frequent passing of horses.
Too concentrated on her horse, Hermione did not notice her surroundings at first.
"We're almost there," Xenis said.
She looked up from the horse's neck. Behind Him, a city built on the mountain-side took her breath away. The houses, all nestled on top of each other covered the rocky hill like a bee hive. Amongst them all sorts of vegetation grew abundant and emerald green, in contrast with the dull colours of the rectangular houses with flat roofs.
But her attention was very soon attracted by the white palace that rose from the valley, almost as high as the mountains themselves. Circled with grass and a river she had not noticed before, the palace of the Caliph shined with its white walls and dark blue columns.
"Welcome, to the Palace of the Caliph, Hermione," said Xenis. He led her through the prairie, where scattered, not far from one another, stood tents with blue, green and orange drapes.
"They're learning quarters," said Xenis. "Our children learn magic there."
The palace was just as magnificent in the inside at it was on the outside. And every man and woman seemed to be gathered along the benches around the palace and the river, where merchants had opened shop and were selling every kind of ingredient and magical artifact. She made a mental note of visiting it to look for Moly and Atimony.
An errand boy came to meet them at the entrance of the palace and took their horses away. Xenis walked fast through the corridors and the passages populated with people that just like them, never seemed to stay in one place for long.
"The palace is the main place for business, everyone meets here," said Xenis moving with ease through the people. He walked until at one point they were in front of two heavily set men wearing what Hermione imagined was a uniform.
Xenis handed them a parchment and after they checked what she had in her bag they let them through, closing the doors after them.
They entered a court where all the noise and the confusion that had welcomed her disappeared, and only a fountain was humming away. Tall columns the same colour as the once on the outside, skyrocketed from the ground. Hermione followed them with her eyes and had to bend her head backwards to see the top of them. Seven levels of windows and arcades looked down on the small fountain. Xenis was patiently waiting for her at the other end of the court, smiling at her wonder. They walked along what seemed and infinite set of corridors and doors, and all were guarded by men in uniforms, until finally her guide stopped in front of the biggest door so far.
The doors were opened as soon as they stopped in from of them.
Hermione had imagined the Caliph to sit on a golden throne surrounded by a dozen of women. She also imagined him to be fat, and a little stupid.
What she found instead of a throne was the biggest library she had ever seen. Like in the courtyard, when she looked up, she could see all the seven floors the palace had. Except here, instead of arcades and windows, scrolls of parchment and tomes filled shelves and boxes, boxes and baskets.
At the end of the room, a long table was illuminated with lamps and candles that seemed to irradiate the room with an unusual brightness.
"Miss Granger," said a voice from the other side of it. A man dressed in a white tunic stood up and came to meet them. A dark-skinned man with white hair and beard appeared from behind the light of the candles, walking swiftly and fast towards them.
His eyes were bright and alert and he curved his lips in a smile that made his heard slide up. He took her hand and shook it as if they were old friends. "Welcome, please come, have a sit."
She did not have the time to say a word. He let her to a coffee table hidden between the rows of shelves where warm tea, dates and sweets she had never seen awaited them. She mumbled a thank you and placed her bag at the end of the carped on which they sat, surrounded by feather cushions.
She did not even notice that Xenis had abandoned them, his work having been completed.
"I hope the travel by horse was not unpleasant, Miss Granger."
"It was endurable," she smiled and he smiled back pouring tea into her cup. "My wife Fidda will join us soon enough and she will give you all the details about your task here."
Hermione nodded and took a sip of her drink, glancing at her surroundings as she did.
"If I had no other responsibilities, I would spend my days and nights in this room," he mused. "Nothing but calm, silence and the company of the words of dead people. You see, Miss Granger, the la alsihr had Alexandria, we had this. Millenia of knowledge are kept here, and no one will ever get to read it all."
"I apologise if it might seem unprofessional, and I will understand if you will refuse. But I have a curse to find, that seems to be unbreakable."
"A little passion of yours, I presume?"
She grimaced. "Something like that. And I wondered if with all this resources I could look for it here."
"You are welcome, whenever you could spare the time."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you, so much."
"Hello, Miss Granger," said a woman's voice behind her. Hermione stood up and turned towards the voice.
A woman was smiling at her while her eyeliner rimmed eyes were studying her face intently.
"I'm Fidda," and just like her husband she took Hermione's hand and shook it warmly.
"Welcome, I hope my husband has not bored you yet."
"No, of course not."
"I had no time to," said the Caliph.
Fidda laughed. "Please, take a sit, Miss Granger."
They sat back on the carpet and while the Caliph poured tea for his wife she reached inside her pocket for a tiny rucksack. Then, after opening in, produced a scroll which she handed to Hermione.
"This is the site we have difficulties in getting into. It's a tomb built around the tenth century A.D., we don't know yet who it belonged to. All the incisions and all the inscription are covered by spells. That's the map of the tomb we have so far discovered and broken into."
Hermione studied the map and looked at Fidda from time to time. "Is the curse on the inscriptions the only one you need me to break?"
"No," said Fidda placing a hand on her husband's shoulder. "There is a specific passage," she placed a finger on the map, where a door was drawn but nothing beyond it. "It affects everyone who tries to enchant it."
Hermione looked up at her. "What do you mean by affects?"
"It turns their skin to molten stone that burns everything in its path away."
And right then, the Caliph uncovered his forearm. The sight was familiar.
It was the same curse.