Fred was fairly certain he was on his way to narrowing down what was doing it and what just wasn't. In the beginning he'd thought the lake was a simple fluke, because when he'd submerged himself in the tub it hadn't done a thing. He'd gotten a bit more inventive after that. The stairs had nearly worked-he'd seen the lights but been jarred by Verity before he could fully reach one. The explosion had been brilliant and he'd managed to make contact with one light before they faded away. George had yelled at him for a solid thirty minutes but Fred had barely heard any of it past the hazy ecstasy that the lights had given him.
He wanted more of that. The numb feeling they left in their wake was terrible, and he just needed it to go away.
Hermione complicated things. First, Crookshanks was everywhere. The cat was clearly magical because Fred was sure he could apparate. Fred had tried three different explosions but Crookshanks had knocked him out of the way every time.
And Hermione herself was…odd. For one thing, she was funnier than Fred had ever remembered her being. She'd made him laugh, which was so much harder to do with the numb feeling that never left.
Aside from that though, she was always around and she was always watching.
Even when she wasn't looking at him Fred could feel her watching. She had the uncanny ability to make it feel like she knew everything that was going on around her. On her third night in the flat she'd been in the living room reading an article with her back to the kitchen. Crookshanks had been slinking around the stove quietly. Fred had an extendable ear and hadn't even been able to hear him walking. The cat had spotted a sweet roll and started towards it. He hadn't taken more than one silent step before Hermione flipped a page and said: "No rolls, Crookshanks."
The cat had proceeded to hold a staring contest with the back of Hermione's head before lifting his paw to take another step.
"Crookshanks! Fred, stop gaping at him and get him off the counter, please?" And she never turned around. It was uncanny. She even knew the exact moment that he did take the cat off the counter.
Which, to be fair, was probably because she'd spent so long with Harry and Ron. She'd probably had to develop an extra sense just to stay alive.
Right now, extra sense or not, Fred was going to get out of the flat. It would be easy. He just needed to get out of the kitchen and away from Hermione who was scribbling in a notebook with papers surrounding her and some spell flashing blue in front of her. The door was all of fifteen feet away.
Outside of it was adventure and lights. Fred could almost see them.
Fred swallowed thickly and took a tiny step forward. He exhaled silently and waited. Another breath and another step. Nothing from Hermione. Fred grinned and went forward as quickly as he could. Three steps later and a shrill whistle made him jump. He barely bit off a curse and spun on the spot to see a tea kettle going off.
"Fred? Would you fix me a cup, please? I'll make waffles for breakfast."
Fred's shoulders dropped. He'd have to delay his escape. He could do it. For waffles, he'd do almost anything.
He fixed the cup up quick as he could (slightly surprised that he knew Hermione liked it with two cubes of sugar and a dash of milk). "Here you go."
"Thanks." Hermione took the cup and sipped at it before scowling at her notes. She glanced at the spell and narrowed her eyes even more. Fred stared for a moment before taking a step back. He grabbed a cup up for himself and decided he'd try to see the lights in the flat. Maybe he could try a bath again…
"This is impossible." Hermione muttered, absently turning her tea around in the cup Fred gave her. She fingered the report's pages with the other hand and sighed, seeming completely unaware that Fred was even in the room, much less standing across from her. "What's impossible?" Fred sipped at his own tea and waited for Hermione to respond. Fred had discovered that you could ask her anything while she was distracted and she'd answer. It was taking advantage of the fact that she answered questions instinctually, but it did work. He was mildly curious as to how he could exploit it, but he hadn't thought of anything too interesting to ask yet.
"This problem." Hermione indicated the report she was working on. She sat back in her chair and huffed before studying Fred with her piercing gaze. He had the strangest feeling that he was being evaluated for something. She shrugged after a moment and flipped the report open. "Someone has killed a griffin just for its toenails. Why they didn't just trim the poor creatures nails I don't know."
"So killing it didn't make sense?" Fred clarified.
"Not at all. You can buy the toenails cheaply whereas the actual griffins are hard to find, and harder to kill." She huffed and flipped another page. "It's completely irresponsible and illogical."
"Well, maybe it was for a rite." Fred offered before sipping.
Fred hadn't really meant to get her attention. He'd just said it kind of flippantly. It was a good reason, but he didn't know anything about the case.
"No, that's ridiculous." Hermione started and then stopped, tilting her head before looking up. "Wait, a rite? What sort of a rite?" She sat upright in her chair abruptly, knocking over a stack of notes of the arm before she leaned forward in obvious anticipation.
"Oh," Fred flushed, uncomfortable under her expectant gaze. He hadn't really known what he was talking about. "You know. Dark magic rites. They're ancient, like, the founding of Hogwarts ancient."
Hermione scooted forward to the edge of her seat, giving Fred her complete attention. "Tell me more."
Fred stared at her for a moment, determining his likelihood of actually getting out of the conversation without giving her the answers she wanted. Fred wasn't even supposed to know the information, it was just because he'd been poking somewhere he shouldn't have that he did know it.
He wasn't going to get to take that bath anytime soon. The lights would have to wait. Fred was slightly surprised at the irritation he could feel about that. He embraced the emotion gleefully and dug around in his mind for everything he knew about rites.
"Well, I-uh. I don't really know that much about it. Just what I read in a book in my second year." Fred swallowed and fiddled with his cup. "It's an ancient, almost forgotten form of magic. Necromancy stems from it. You use runes to manipulate 'spirits' and create different events depending on what you want. You can summon a spirit to guard you, attack an enemy, or animate a corpse or other inanimate object." He paused, and was suddenly hit with inspiration. "Horcruxs are made from a type of rite."
"You learned about that in your second year?" Hermione looked appalled and Fred had to chuckle.
"You should have seen what all I found out in my first year."
"All that aside, it's a very plausible theory. But why a griffin?"
"Maybe they needed it's blood. Or it could just be that its sacrifice is what the spirit required. I don't really know. It's been years since I studied any of it."
"It's ingenious, really. No one would think of such an ancient magic, not without serious research. That would buy them time..." Fred shrugged and returned his attention to his tea. It was funny how much the drink could calm him. He vaguely wondered if it was properties of the tea leaf or just part of being British. He shifted around on his chair and looked up to find Hermione observing him. Fred didn't think anything of it. Hermione often drifted off in thought, staring aimlessly ahead. She wasn't actually looking at whatever she was staring at, it just happened to be in her field of vision. He figured that was just what was happening right now. She'd done that as long as he had known her. He could recall coming down stairs during her first year and seeing her staring straight ahead at the fire. She'd sat like that for a solid five minutes before her entire body jerked and she scrambled for a scroll of parchment. She'd then proceeded to scribble for ten or so minutes.
Fred continued to sip at his tea and watch the fire while waiting for her to come out of it.
Until her eyes begin to drift across his face, watching him in a way that made it clear she was, in fact, observing him. Fred swallowed his rather too large gulp of tea and swallowed noisily. Hermione didn't do so much as even blink so he set the cup down.
Hermione was still studying him, and it was beginning to make Fred a bit uneasy.
"Fred, are you busy this weekend?" Fred, focusing so hard on not fidgeting under the weight of her gaze, missed the question.
"Sorry?"
"Are you busy this weekend? I need someone to accompany me on this case. I originally intended to ask Harry or Ron, but they're on surveillance until further notice." She shrugged lightly as if it was of no matter but Fred didn't miss the flash of pain in her brown eyes. She probably missed them. He felt a brief flash of sympathy. She was supposed to finally be able to hang out with them now that the war was over.
Fred forced his mind to get back on to the question she'd asked. He played it over in his mind and gave his head a little nod. Hermione beamed and stood up. She swept her wand over all the papers and they stacked themselves up.
"Thank you ever so much! I'm going to the library to see what I can find out about rites. Will eleven work for you?"
"Huh? Oh, yes." Fred nodded his head and picked his tea up so that he'd have something to do with his hands.
"Smashing." Hermione cheered she headed to her bedroom with her papers and tea following. Fred watched until she shut the door.
That had been quite unexpected. If he were honest, Fred thought dimly as he swirled the dregs in his tea around absently, he wasn't quite sure what had just happened.
He rather felt like he had just signed over his weekend to go to libraries with Hermione. "Oh well," He murmured before downing the remainder of his tea. "Maybe I can find something on lights."
Crookshanks mewled from the kitchen and stared longingly at the sweet rolls. Fred snorted and stood up. He strode across the living room and deposited his cup into the sink. Hermione had charmed the sweet rolls so that only humans could get at them. Crookshanks had yet to get over what he clearly saw as a very deep betrayal of the worst kind.
Fred fished one out of the bowl and handed it to the cheerful cat. "Here you go, Crookie. At least one of should have some fun." Fred let out a deep, bone weary sigh and scratched Crookshanks behind the ear. At least he wouldn't have to be bored. The numbness would see to that.
At least it was something to do.
