"Earth."
-
Antimagic is obviously the most disturbing development in magical theory and research in the last several centuries, and the fact that we know so little about the subject should only keep us on edge. How could such a substance come to be formed, and how can we destroy it?
From what we know, extremely large levels of magic can help keep antimagic contained, and theoretically a ridiculously large level of magic would be able to negate a large body of antimagic, but this is all speculation. Of more import to me is the prevention of antimagic's creation.
Who knows how antimagic affects the environment, and who knows how it's actually formed. Again, most of what we (or at least I, in this case) have to go on is, again, conjecture. But let's speculate for a moment, and try to find a common thread in the formation of antimagic.
Nurmengard. Azkaban. Atlantis. The Rhine. Northern Russia. Rwanda. The Congo. Venezuela. Japan.
These are the hosts of the most significant bodies of antimagic in this century. At first glance they do not seem to share a trait, but the first three on the list are most telling.
Nurmengard. Azkaban. Atlantis.
Through this trio the secret of the rest of the list is revealed, and we can begin to see why antimagic forms. These locales are not bound by geography, or climate, or population.
They are bound by death.
-
Muggle checkout lines, Remus knew from experience, moved just as slowly as wizard checkout lines, despite the mysteries of technology and the supposed advancements in society that wizards had yet to undertake. Still, while he considered himself a very patient man, it didn't make sense that the express lane of a grocery store would take longer than any of the other checkout aisles. Ten items or less. It really wasn't that difficult of a concept.
"Sir, you've got twenty-three items," said the young woman behind the register. Her lip ring reminded him of Tonks. "This is the express aisle."
"Oh my, I'm so sorry, young lady," replied the bumbling old man with thin straw hair and a tie that didn't match his jacket. "I'll just move on over to the other aisle…"
The girl's lips squirmed to the side of her face and her shoulders sagged in resignation. "No, it's all right, I'll just check them out here. Here, hand me the radishes…"
Remus tapped the metal basket against the vending refrigerator next to him. His eyes lingered on a soda. Cherry Coke. He really shouldn't – it was Sirius's money, and Cherry Coke was so unhealthy and so unnecessary –
He slid open the door to the refrigerator and hastily grabbed two of the bottles, tossing them inside the basket. Sirius wouldn't mind: he'd gotten one for both of them. And Sirius didn't care much for money. He would repay him.
He wouldn't, actually, since Sirius wouldn't let him, and he felt somewhat guilty for taking advantage of his friend's generosity, but it was Cherry Coke, blast it all, and that settled it.
He was equally tempted to Confund the mother in front of him into going into another aisle, but he drew a line in his mind and stopped himself. Besides, her daughter actually was kind of adorable when she wasn't trying to sneak candy bars into her mother's basket.
The woman was checked out and Remus placed his basket on the (useless) conveyor belt atop the counter. The clerk grabbed the soda bottles and started the tedious process of ringing up the prices.
"Tough crowd," Remus joked.
"I want to kill myself," said the young woman in a monotone, and he decided that she most definitely did not remind him of Tonks.
The late summer heat had abated for a day, and instead the sky was smothered with rain clouds, although they were the lazy sort of rain cloud that lounged about all day and never actually got about to raining. Remus sniffed the air before heading along the side of the asphalt and darting into an alcove between a fire exit and a dumpster. Holding his grocery bag tightly to his chest, he winced as the familiar pull grabbed him, and he landed without consequence in the alley dissecting the end of Grimmauld Place.
He hurried along the edge of the street with his hood drawn above his head, bag tucked under his elbow. A woman and her dog stood across the road from Number Twelve, and he waited for them to move along before he pictured the house and slipped inside the stairwell that suddenly appeared.
"HALF-BREED – TRAITOR – FILTHY, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SCUM OF THE EARTH," Mrs. Black greeted him warmly as he entered the standing room and pushed down his hood.
"Hello, Walburga."
The portrait continued shouting at him, but he moved along. Noticing the troll's leg umbrella holder had been knocked over, he bent down to right it, and after doing so moved along to the kitchen, where he heard loud voices instantly familiar to him.
"Hello Dora," he stated before he'd even entered the kitchen. He crossed the threshold and set the grocery bag down on the counter. "Did you notice that you knocked over the troll's leg again?"
"Oh well," she replied with an air of nonchalance, but Remus saw her cheeks flush prettily. Her hair was purple today, his personal favorite, and braided in the back. "I tend to do that a lot. I hope you were a doll and fixed it for me."
"As always." He grabbed a soda bottle out of the bag and tossed it to Sirius, throwing Tonks a regretful look. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be over. Would you like mine?"
"No, no, I'm not thirsty at all, go ahead."
Remus was caught between feeling grateful that he got to keep his Cherry Coke or regretful that he hadn't been able to give her something. He unscrewed the bottle and took a sip.
"Please tell me you got something halfway-decent," Sirius begged in a plaintive voice that didn't befit a thirty-six-year-old man. "I'm going to die without something sweet."
"Don't worry, I've got it." Remus pulled the remaining contents out of the grocery sack: two cartons of double-fudge brownie ice cream and one of orange sherbet, and multiple bags of gummy bears and easy-bake white chocolate chip cookies. "I can't see how you intend to eat all of this, but it's your decision."
"I've converted one of the spare bedrooms into a workout room," Sirius said with a shrug, and he grabbed one of the cartons and shoved it into the icebox. "I was able to finagle Emmaline Vance into bringing by some Muggle equipment she found at a garage sale, and I made my own, uh, improvements. By the way, Moony, this soda is delicious."
"I adore Muggle soda," Remus agreed. "They'll never beat our chocolate, though, but Rolos are a nice substitute for Honeydukes."
Having finished packing away the ice cream and sherbet, Sirius ripped open a bag of gummies and popped one in his mouth before offering the bag to his visitors.
Remus shook him off, but Tonks grabbed one out of the bag with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, boys, but I should be off. You can't pretend to catch yourself, Sirius."
"So soon?" Sirius whined. "Ah, well, thanks for dropping by, as it is. Give Kingsley my best. I've got a feeling I'll be in Belgium this week, I would quite fancy a visit to Brussels."
"I always thought you were more of an Amsterdam kind of chap," Tonks said with a smirk, and Sirius let out a bark of a laugh and chewed on another gummy bear.
"Are you quite sure you have to leave, Dora?" Remus asked, frowning. "It's not yet a quarter to three. Surely you could stay a few more minutes?"
"Quit it Remus, now you sound like Sirius," Tonks said, but she beamed at him for some reason he couldn't fathom. "And no, I really would love to, but I have to pick up my dad from work, as well. He sprained his ankle or something to that effect. But if you old men are awake at midnight, I could stop by and tell you scary stories by the fire if you really wish."
"If you're serious, then I'll be up," came Sirius's reply through a mouthful of candy mammals. "I've nothing better to do. It's not a full moon, is it Remus?"
"Next Tuesday," he said automatically, and he searched Tonks's face for a twitch, a raised eyebrow, a slight sneer. He was unsuccessful in his attempt.
Tonks gave Sirius a hug and said, "Well, perhaps I shall stop by, but I can't promise it. And only if I get a scoop of that sherbet, d'you hear?"
"One scoop," Sirius promised her, ruffling her purple hair as she disentangled herself from him. "I won't give up a single flake more."
"We'll see about that, old cousin of mine." Tonks gave Remus a quick one-armed hug and kissed his cheek, but even when she pulled away she remained tantalizingly close, her eyes (green today, but very unlike Lily's) boring into Remus's own. "Dumbledore wants to speak with you tomorrow. Kingsley and I are supposed to be there too."
"I remember."
He didn't know when her palm had moved to his cheek, but it pulled away all too quickly, and then she was in the hallway. "Bye, boys!"
"Bye," they muttered, and she left, the signature crash of the umbrella stand and shrieks of Sirius's dearly departed mother announcing her exit. After he realized he'd been staring at an empty portrait she'd been standing in front of ever since she'd left, Remus moved his eyes to his companion, who wore a disarming grin.
"I do hope you two end up together," Sirius stated as he hopped up onto the table and shoveled a few more gummies into his mouth. "I would love it if you married into the family, especially if you gave me a bunch of wolfy little cousins twice removed."
"It's not like that, Sirius," he asserted, unconvincingly. "And I'll braid Lucius Malfoy's hair before I bring another werewolf into this world."
Sirius raised his eyebrows and set the bag down. "Stop being such a drama queen. The werewolf I've known since I was eleven turned out to be a pretty nice guy, although he left his balls somewhere at graduation, I think. Besides, I'm great at predicting relationships."
"Oh really?" asked Remus, determinedly ignoring his friend's other, more disturbing comments.
"Yes, I will have you know."
"Name a few."
"Lily and James for starters."
"You told James she'd kill him if he went within ten feet of her."
Sirius chuckled. "Yes, but I did win ten Galleons from Frank Longbottom when they finally got together. And remember, that's when he was in training and completely broke because he was saving for the wedding."
"Right," Remus said, and now that he thought about it he did remember the look of glee on Sirius's face when James finally succeeded in cajoling Lily to go out with him. "Name another."
"Well, besides you and my darling cousin, I guess I could say Lucius and Narcissa or Bellatrix and her bastard of a husband, but they don't entirely qualify as people," he said, and began ticking off couples on his hand. "I knew as soon as my mother decried Ted Tonks and Muggle-borns in general that he'd elope with Andromeda. Ooh, Regulus and that little snit Francine… d'you remember her? I bloody well told James fourth-year that that would happen, and it did. Merlin that was a terrible experience. Hm. I don't know – what about Harry and Hermione, would you say?"
"Ron definitely fancies Hermione," Remus said, shaking his head. "I don't really know her feelings, but she's usually too busy with Harry for me to read her otherwise."
"See!" Sirius exclaimed with a gleam of triumph in his eye. "Told you. They'll be married by twenty, mark my words."
This proclamation was met by an indignant snort. "Like Hermione would let that happen. And besides, Harry's utterly clueless in regards to her, thinks of her as a sister, I think. I'm not saying they wouldn't make a marvelous couple, but they're a bit oblivious so far, at least. I know Ginny Weasley had a huge crush on Harry, but I'm not sure how much of that was Harry and how much was the Boy Who Lived. I think a lot of it has been hero-worship, although she seemed more normal this summer."
"Potters like red hair," Sirius replied fondly. "I can see that. Hermione reminds me of Lily quite a bit, and even some of Alice Longbottom. That girl's got a brain in her."
"I know. I did teach her, after all."
They ended up in one of the living rooms, the place where they spent most of their time with the exception of the kitchen, and the sat on the sofas with Cherry Coke (which was rather difficult to replenish but Remus thought he'd gotten the hang of it after a while) and talked and talked and talked. At some point, during a lull in the conversation, Sirius picked up Remus's bookbag and began rifling through it, and Remus felt entirely too lethargic to begin to lecture him on the value of respecting privacy.
"You've got a load of stuff in here, Moony," Sirius declared as he pulled out yet another worn paperback (The Brothers Karamazov) and tossed it to the side. "Hey, what's this?"
Remus pulled his head up and saw that Sirius had grabbed his long-unfinished work on magic. For a moment he wanted to deny the importance of it, to save the inevitable "Moony you're such a bookworm" diatribe, but he was much too tired for it, and instead he replied, "Just something I've worked on in my spare time. I doubt you'd find it interesting, but you can read it if you like. It's not finished."
"It's obscenely huge," Sirius stated with a skeptical glance at the thick packet of papers and parchment. "What's it about?"
"It's only that large because there are so many notes and draft papers," Remus responded, and he straightened out of his slouch and moved his bottle between his legs. "It's about magic. It's – okay, uh, to boil it down, one day, when we were still in Hogwarts, someone – you, incidentally, if I remember it correctly – made a remark about how there were so many empty classrooms, and I thought that was interesting, and then I saw that the magical population had decreased quite a bit over the past few centuries, and from there I just kind of branched out into whatever interested me. It's long and rambling and not entirely lucid but one day I might edit it, once I've finished it."
Sirius's tone was incredulous: "You've been working on this since Hogwarts?"
"Well. Yes, but only sporadically. I haven't done much with it recently, since I've been rather busy and some of the areas I'd like to explore I don't have the resources to pursue."
"Huh." Sirius began rifling through the pages, although he was careful not to bend any of the papers, which Remus appreciated. "Right. So, dear fellow Marauder, why is the magical population getting smaller? Doesn't that just mean that magical people are having less babies?"
"Yes and no. You've got the purebloods, who are slowly dying out –"
"Good riddance."
Remus frowned and continued, "But there's not been a huge dropoff in the actual number of kids in magical families. There have been higher numbers of Squibs – did you know that in the 1200's Squibs were almost unheard of? – but one of the main problems, when added to the moderate dropoff in magical fertility rate, is the extreme dropoff in Muggle-born fertility rate. I mean to say… oh, this is terribly boring, isn't it?"
"Merlin," Sirius breathed, and he rolled his eyes. "Remus, trust me, I've been bored out of my mind the past few weeks. Nothing you could say could make me disinterested, unless it involved Snape shagging Voldemort's scaly bits off. And if you'll remember, I'm actually quite intelligent and can understand what you're saying without you needing to take a five-minute break every three sentences for a listening comprehension check."
"Right," Remus said, blushing. "Well. Okay, so the Muggle-born fertility rate has dropped loads – while Muggles are increasing in population, less and less Muggle-born witches and wizards are being born, which is huge because that's where over half of the magical population in Britain has historically come from. All of this pureblood nonsense was fairly subdued, actually, until the Muggle-born numbers plummeted. The whole question is why?
"I think, at least, that it's due to the environment. You see, as I think of it, the Earth is one integrated system, and magic is part of that system. Magic is just like any other energy – it can't be created, only converted. I can cast a spell, but I couldn't cast a powerful spell if I hadn't eaten in three days. Magic is just an extremely powerful, condensed form of energy. For example, this replenishing spell – it only works because of my magic reserves. If I was dead-tired and hungry, it wouldn't work because I wouldn't have any magic to work off of to replace what I'm creating with my spell, which is where we get the deal with food shortages."
"Basic magical theory," Sirius interjected, holding the parchment in his lap. "So what does this have to do with population?"
"They all link together. Magic is very fluid, you see. There's what's inside magical individuals, there's what's contained by magical creatures and plants, and there's what's contained by spells or wards. And then there's environmental magic, which is the most important factor. Basically, when you have all these old spells and wards lying around that haven't been recast in centuries – which there are a surprising amount of, you'll be shocked to know – and all those spells start to leak magic, the magic disperses and scatters. Then, to sustain themselves, the spells have to call on environmental magic, which lowers the amount of magic in the environment. The change has been shockingly drastic, actually.
"What you have to understand," continued Remus, taking a breath, "is that I don't think magic is genetic, or not entirely so. I believe there's a gene that's got something to do with it, that makes the individual more receptive to magic, and of course that's more prevalent in magical families. But environmental magic seems to trigger something in the development of a fetus, and even a small child, and when that magic is lowered, it only makes sense that the hugest impact would be on Muggles."
Sirius stared at him for a while before grinning. "That's quite a theory there, Moony. I hope I'm not the first person you've talked to about this."
"You're not," Remus said. "I talked to Dumbledore once about it, among a handful of others. He seems to have similar thoughts, although he didn't elaborate."
"Typical Dumbledore," Sirius agreed, and Remus knew that it had been a good decision to leave out Snape's contribution. "Interesting stuff. It's too bad you haven't finished. You really should, you know."
"I'm probably entirely wrong on a lot of this. I'm not a theorist by trade."
"So what? If you're wrong you're wrong." And out of Sirius's mouth it didn't sound that bad. "It would be a load of fun, at least for a brainiac like you. I'll always prefer a little more action, but you like this stuff. Hey, maybe Hermione will end up being your research assistant one day!"
Remus smiled and mumbled, "More likely the other way around."
"All right, I'll give you that," Sirius said with a laugh, and he stood and stretched his arms above his head. "Just think about it! You can be Hermione's research partner, and Harry can be Tonks's Auror partner. The two couples."
"I really don't think Harry and Hermione will end up together, Sirius."
Sirius smirked at him for a long time before he reddened and realized his failure of omission.
"Oh come off it, it's only because we were arguing about it earlier –"
"No, no, you admitted it Remus!" Sirius cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted to no one in particular, "REMUS LUPIN WANTS TO MARRY MY LITTLE COUSIN AND DESPOIL HER! THE BIG BAD WOLF WANTS TO DESPOIL LITTLE PINK RIDING HOOD!"
"Christ, Sirius," Remus growled, fighting the urge to smile.
"You know you want it, Remus," Sirius replied. He grinned. "You're going to be family soon!"
Remus hid his head in his hands and Sirius laughed all the way into the kitchen.
-
Hermione brushed the soot from her jeans and stepped out of the hearth into the living room of Harry and Ron's flat. She noticed that there was less mess this time, although she wasn't sure if that was due to Ron's absence or an increased sense of cleanliness on Harry's part. Carefully she moved to the kitchen, craning her head over the counter to look for her friend.
"Harry?"
There was no answer. Hermione made her way to Harry's door and opened it with a delicate push. A smile tugged at her face, and her feet lightly padded against the carpeted ground to where his bed lay.
"Harry," she whispered and received no reply. Leaning closer, skimming the back of her hand across her forehead, she leaned in and whispered louder, "Harry."
"Egh," he said, or something to that effect. His eyes struggled to open, and he rolled over on his back, attempting to whack her hand away but ending up with his wrist against hers. He blinked. "Morning, 'Mione."
She hated the nickname but forgave him since she wasn't sure he could properly enunciate his own name at the moment, let alone her own Shakespearean moniker. "It's ten-thirty. You need to wake up."
"Gah." He made an effort to sit and stared sleepily at the opposite wall. "Merlin, it's early. I hate it when you don't let me sleep in."
"Ten-thirty is sleeping in, Harry," she replied amusedly, but Harry muttered something under his breath and glared at her. "We need to be there at eleven. I didn't realize you were still asleep."
"I'm always asleep," Harry replied without any of her levity. "Merlin. We couldn't have done this as a lunch date?"
"I already ate. This could take a while."
Harry growled and attempted to hit her with his pillow, but she dodged it, laughing. "I hate you, Granger."
"I'll assume that that's the sleepiness talking," Hermione replied. Her brows furrowed. "Did you get it?"
"Yeah," he said quietly. "McGonagall helped me get it yesterday. I'll have you know that I'm not too hopeful about this whole thing."
"That's probably for the best. This is all conjecture, after all, but it's worth a try. Now, get up, you lazy Auror wannabe. We need to be there in thirty minutes."
Half-heartedly, and with help from Hermione's hand yanking him by the neck upwards, he shifted out of his bed and stood up. While Harry was reacquainting himself with the waking world, Hermione took the liberty of rifling through his closet until she found a suitable shirt and tossed it to him.
"Put that on," she ordered, and he did, ruefully. "And get a jacket, as well. It's going to be cold."
"I thought they got rid of the dementors?"
"It's still a frigid island in the middle of the North Sea, Harry," Hermione said with exasperation evident in her voice, and if only Ron were there it would have been like Hogwarts all over again. "And change into some decent trousers, too."
Harry tugged the edge of his Weird Sisters shirt downward and looked at her. "Well."
"Well what?"
"I don't care how close we are, Hermione, but I'm not changing into my trousers while you're in the room."
Hermione blushed and exited Harry's bedroom with a meek apology. She scowled at the sound of his chuckle and went to the kitchen. To her great surprise, the boys had milk that wasn't out of date (Harry must have gone shopping), and they always had loads of cereal, so while Harry was making himself decent Hermione grabbed the milk carton and poured a bowl of cereal for him, since she knew he would be a royal pain if he didn't eat. Not like Ron, but she didn't want to have to leave Azkaban because the Boy Who Lived's stomach was growling too loudly for him to pay attention to his surroundings.
"I'm hungry," Harry complained as he hopped into the kitchen, one leg in the air as he attempted to put a sock on his foot while walking.
"I made you cereal." She sat down at the table with the morning paper and unfolded it. "Eat up. We don't have much time."
"Jesus, you really sound like Mrs. Weasley sometimes," Harry muttered, and he fell into his chair ungracefully, socks on both feet. He had picked up the spoon when he asked, in a typical Harry way, "Do you not want some?"
Hermione stopped halfway through rolling her eyes and focused on her paper. "As I said two minutes ago, O Boy Wonder, I already ate. I was planning on stealing a few spoonfuls of yours while you weren't looking."
"How very Slytherin of you."
"I made your breakfast. Stop complaining."
"That's a woman's proper place," Harry said in a faux-serious voice, and he dodged the business section as it flew towards his face. "Kidding! You really could lighten up, you know."
"Shut it, Potter, and give me your spoon."
Harry pushed the bowl towards her and she took a spoonful. "Have at it. Accio jacket!"
The esteemed savior of the wizarding world yelped as three jackets flew toward him and nearly knocked him out of his chair. With the dignified air befitting someone of his station, he scrambled out from the clutches of the villainous winter wear and nearly knocked over the table in the process.
"Harry, do be careful!"
Harry grinned as he held up his jacket. "There we go. Found it! I always forget to specify."
"Harry, details –"
"Details, details," he cut her off, and he waved his hand in the air. "Not important stuff. I get there in the end, don't I?"
Hermione wisely decided not to continue the subject and took another bite out of Harry's breakfast.
They left ten minutes later, mainly because Harry couldn't find his second trainer (it had been lodged behind the television, of all things, which had prevented it from being Summoned), and Hermione icily ignored him as they entered the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. For his part, Harry seemed unperturbed and frequently checked his watch.
"We're going to be late," she stated bluntly as they entered one of the lifts. "Stop checking your watch."
"I'm not checking the time," he answered. "Just seeing how much time is left before you inevitably realize that I'm an idiot teenage boy and you're wasting your time getting mad at me."
Hermione laughed.
They'd almost reached Level Nine when Harry swore and conjured a flying memo and a quill, scribbling something down on it hastily and then sending it off on Level Seven.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, curious.
"A note for Percy," Harry replied, staring at the metal paneling in front of them. "He has some forms that the department needs filled out."
Hermione accepted his answer – Percy would be at the Ministry on a Sunday – and the door of the lift opened.
"Speaking of which, did you remember –" she lowered her voice "– the item?"
"Yes," Harry said, stepping out after her. "In my back left pocket."
She hurried down the corridor, Harry loping along in her wake, and was about to reach the door to the Department of Mysteries when someone stepped out of the shadows and grabbed her shoulder. She flinched and glanced to the left, only to see Babbling's still form crashing to the ground.
"Who is that?" Harry demanded, his wand drawn and voice husky.
"That's the Unspeakable," Hermione replied. "And you just attacked her."
Harry waved his wand and Babbling struggled to get to her feet, finally doing so with Hermione's help. Only when she'd grabbed the woman by the wrists and tugged her upward did Hermione realize just how short she was, although her cold air made her seem a sight taller.
"Nice wandwork, Mr. Potter," Babbling murmured as she brushed off her robe. "Happily, I am a fully developed adult who can take a strong Stunner and even try to deflect it. We are only fortunate that you did not accidentally concuss a small child due to your spastic trigger finger."
"I find it unfortunate that you like to pop out of corners to scare people," Harry replied nastily. "Excuse me if a year on the run taught me to take my friend's security extremely seriously."
"That's enough," said Hermione, and Harry closed his mouth, although he didn't look happy about it. "I'm sorry for the mix-up, Ms. Babbling. As you may have guessed, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Florence Babbling. She'll be taking us to Azkaban today."
"I have no intention of pressing charges," said Babbling. "She merely means that I am escorting you to Azkaban for academic purposes."
Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I kind of got that already. Hermione might have mentioned it once or twice."
"Stop it, Harry." With a glare she silenced any further smarmy barbs. "Ms. Babbling, I assume we are taking the exit near the courtrooms?"
"Of course. It is the most expedient way to travel to Azkaban."
Hermione nodded, and Babbling led the three to the staircase bridging Level Nine, which had been where Babbling had launched her "attack" from. Level Ten was dimly lit, as usual, and none of the courtrooms seemed to be occupied.
"Do you make it down here much, Harry?" she asked. "I do, being legal counsel and all, but I wasn't sure about trainees, or even Aurors."
"Occasionally, to see some testimony," Harry's answer came from behind her. "But not a terrible lot since the few weeks after the war."
They continued along the hallway, past each heavy-set door, and finally past Courtroom Ten (Harry's footsteps slowed for the briefest of moments before returning to their usual pace). The last door on the hallway was unlike the others: instead of a wooden door with iron bolts, there was a metal door with no discernible lock or keyhole and only a slide for a guard's eyes to peek through.
Babbling rapped her knuckles against the door. Soon after the slide drew back.
"Florence Babbling, accompanying Hermione Granger and Harry Potter to Azkaban," she announced.
"You didn't tell me she had a voice like sandpaper," Harry whispered into Hermione's ear, and his corresponding yelp of pain was overpowered by the guard's rich baritone.
"Proceed, Ms. Babbling."
The door was thrown back, and the three stepped through, Harry favoring his right foot, which had been stomped on by an irritated witch moments prior. A small hall continued for a meter and fed into a large circular room with a spire in the middle. Bars of six feet in length protruded from the spire, about ten in all, and each proceeded into the room and grabbed hold of a different bar.
"I'm sending you through," stated the guard. The room went dark. "Three, two, one…"
There was a horrible dizzy feeling and then Hermione landed, almost crashing into Harry and only staying on her feet with the aid of his reflexes. Babbling appeared to have had no problem with the transfer and was surveying her surroundings curiously.
"The tide is low today," she said, staring out at the sea twenty feet below them. She looked at them and must have noticed the uncomfortable expressions on their faces, for she continued, "Ah, the Portkey link does take a little getting used to. If you are ready, we may continue."
"I'm fine," Hermione mumbled, and Harry's hand guided her to the narrow pathway they would have to climb. The pathway jutted upward, a narrow bridge of rock ascending higher and higher over tumultuous seas, until it finally met the island black as charcoal and the subtle gate built into the cliff wall.
There were guards outside this gate, two of them in navy blue robes, and when the trio moved toward the gate, the pair stepped in front of them.
"Halt," ordered the taller one, tapping his wand against his palm like a Muggle bobby's nightstick. "State your business here."
"Academic research on the Negative Level," Babbling replied, her voice equally cool.
"Do you have clearance?"
Babbling tutted under her breath. "Our group consists of an Unspeakable, the Minister's closest aide, and the Boy Who Lived. So yes, it would seem rational to assume that we have clearance."
The guard's eyes widened and Hermione had the impression that for the first time he had looked past the diminutive Unspeakable and seen the two teenagers standing behind her. To his credit, he quickly regained his composure and responded, "Clearance granted. Open her up!"
They waited and nothing happened. Babbling glanced from guard to guard, neither betraying an emotion, and Hermione wondered if the guards had noticed that the gate hadn't opened or were just playing a practical joke on them.
"Come," said Babbling, and the beckoned for the other two to follow her. Harry was about to open his mouth to retort when Babbling stepped forward and through the iron-wrought gate, much as she had two days prior into the room containing the Ministry's antimagic.
"Oh," he said finally, and they followed after her.
The interior of the prison was cramped and poorly lit. Torches carrying blue flame provided the main source of light, although there was a strange glow to the ground that Hermione couldn't place. Twenty feet inside the corridor stopped and transformed into a circular room with a guard sitting on a platform carved into an alcove ten feet above the flooring.
"State your purpose," he commanded in a much less self-serious tone than the other guard had.
"We wish to visit the Negative Level."
The guard hesitated for a moment but nodded. "The Negative Level it is. You may keep your wands, and it is recommended that you maintain the highest level of vigilance during your visit."
"Noted."
The guard seemed to begin to float, or the walls around them seemed to rise, until Hermione realized that the floor was actually sinking. She'd never been to Azkaban, but so far the magic demonstrated had moderately impressed her, despite the prison's bloody history.
"I don't care what anyone says," Harry murmured beside her, "but this place is still effing creepy even without the dementors guarding it."
Hermione was inclined to agree.
Hermione braced herself as the floor came to a sudden and jarring halt. Babbling motioned for them to follow and they proceeded out of the chamber and into a cramped, narrow tunnel of a hallway with a light source that wasn't readily apparent. The tunnel ended and opened up into a cavernous room with another guard at the mouth of the entrance.
"Florence Babbling with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," Babbling said without preamble.
"I know who you are and why you're here," replied the guard, a tall woman with a thin face. "I trust that you know all of the necessary precautions and won't do anything to endanger the shield."
"We won't," Babbling said. "We may use the mass for negating purposes, but no matter what we intend to leave the shield in place."
The guard nodded. "Proceed with caution."
They pressed forward, forced to step around a cluster of stalagmites in the middle of the room to move on, and Babbling stopped them with an outstretched arm. There was a buzzing sound inches in front of them, and Babbling's voice scratched out of the darkness: "The shield. It would be remarkably unwise to move any further."
"Will we be able to reach through to the antimagic and extract any of it if we need to?" Hermione asked.
The guard stepped away from her post with a raised arm. "That is not advisable –"
"Of course it's not advisable, but it can be done safely," responded Hermione sharply. She glanced back to Babbling. "Right?"
"Yes," the Unspeakable finally said, "if it is absolutely necessary."
"Good. Now, since we cannot go any further, this seems like a wonderful time to talk more about antimagic and everything else we didn't have time to talk about the other day."
Hermione ignored Harry's sarcastic mutter of "Exciting," and steeled her gaze toward Babbling, who nodded again and turned to the thin air in front of them.
"If you look closely, you can see the antithetical matter," Babbling stated. "Notice that – the areas where the light is distorted and reflected?"
"It's dark," said Harry. "And… wow, that's a lot. It's what, fifteen feet across?"
"Seventeen," the guard answered. "And we don't know how deep. The cave goes on behind it."
"Why is it here?" Hermione demanded. "Why not in Coventry or Buckingham Palace or Tahiti? Why does it pick this individual location to form?"
"That is an interesting and incredibly essential question." Babbling reached out her hand and grazed the air in front of her with her fingers, before pulling them back as if stung. "You mentioned Mr. Lupin's views on antithetical matter. I foolishly neglected to ask you if Mr. Lupin had ever encountered it in person."
"He did, from what he wrote. He encountered it on a trip with Albus Dumbledore and Tiberius Ogden to Nurmengard."
"Oh! Yeah, I've seen that one," Harry exclaimed, the loudness of his voice startling the other two.
"Seen what, Harry?"
"The Pensieve memory," he elaborated. "It looked like this, actually. It's been months, though… it was the first one I watched, actually. I was looking to just see some of my parents and Sirius and Remus together but one of the ones on top was labeled 'Nurmengard '94' and I decided to watch it. It was pretty creepy. Dumbledore was strengthening some shield or something."
Hermione felt very stupid for not thinking of viewing Remus's Pensieve memories. "Of course! I can't believe it – you even told me I could view some with you…"
"Well, in your defense, I didn't bring it up when you told me about this trip," said Harry rather sheepishly. "I mean, I don't know if they ever referred to the stuff by name. I think they did, but I didn't really care about the particulars. It was just… Dumbledore and Grindelwald, you know? And they were in a cave and Dumbledore looked so weak, and it reminded me – sixth year…"
"Oh," said Hermione with unyielding eloquence. "Oh. I'm sorry, Harry."
"Let us focus on our work here for the time being," said Babbling in a cross voice, and Hermione faced back toward the Unspeakable. "Thank you. But please remind yourself of the places you know that have encountered antithetical matter."
"There's Azkaban, of course, and then Nurmengard," Hermione said, ticking the two off on her fingers. "And… and, now that I think about it, Charleston-on-the-Avon."
"Precisely. And what, pray tell, do those locales have in common?"
"Nothing geographically – Azkaban and Nurmengard are both islands but Charleston-on-the-Avon isn't, and I doubt water is a factor. The only thing I can say is…" Her eyes lit up. "Wait. Azkaban is a prison and has been the home of dementors and the destruction of souls and people going insane and being miserable, and torture used to be quite common, as well as executions. Nurmengard was infamous for all of those things, save the dementors, but the tortures there are legendary. And Charleston-on-the-Avon – that was the site of the largest massacre of the entire war."
"Yes, and these are only the tip of the iceberg," Babbling said. "We've spent years tracking down leads on possible sources of antithetical matter, and all of the sources have a similar history. The dominating trend among the data was a history of violence and bloodshed, and our own, ah, inquiries into the matter have led us to conclude that antimagic is born out of the abuse of violent and dark magic, a conclusion that we have only grown surer of due to the recent war."
"But dark magic's been used for ages," Hermione argued. "Antimagic should be much more prevalent than it is. And that doesn't even begin to explain why it actually forms."
"You'd be surprised at the levels of dark magic performed over the past millennium. Our best research, performed over decades, has irrefutably proven, in our best judgment, that the usage of dark magic has actually multiplied two times as fast as any other type of magic. Dark magic has the advantage of being exceptionally easy to perform and create, since it is a magic that relies on pure, easily accessible emotions that every human has. As for the reasons antithetical matter forms…"
Babbling shrugged. "Now we enter the realm of speculation, but our best speculation has, in the past, proven to be as good as fact. From our experiments and inquiries, the brutal dark magic actually changes the area around it. That's actually how dark magic is defined – magic that destroys or alters the surrounding magical atmosphere in a negative way. Light magic tends to promote magical growth; dark magic the opposite. But when dark magic is combined with extreme violence, something changes. The magic, being dark in nature, feeds off of the violence and becomes strengthened, and the magical environment is exceptionally more disturbed than it would have been otherwise."
"That explains very little."
"No, I think it explains very much," Babbling replied, tone cool. "Antithetical matter is the conversion of the energy manipulated and altered into a dense mass. At its heart it is a conversion of energy - that is the result of this violent, incredibly dark magic. Antithetical matter is born out of that destruction of the magical atmosphere of an area, and it has a tendency to accumulate and to seek out magic. It is essentially negative magic – hence the colloquial term 'antimagic' – and as such can be negated by extremely large sources of magic."
"What about Horcruxes?" Harry asked quietly. "Horcruxes are extremely dark, and they require violence in cold blood. They actually rip souls apart. Would they cause antimagic to form?"
"That's a very good question, and one I can't fully answer. Horcruxes are perhaps the darkest magic known to man, and as such we have considered the question, but we have no evidence as of yet, which even our most curious Unspeakables appreciate, as Horcruxes are terrible misappropriations of magic. There are different camps on the issue. For my part, I tend to think that Horcruxes would not cause the formation of antithetical matter, as the very destructive brunt of the dark magic is given a specific target: the soul, which is extremely hard to bend or tear in such a fashion that it doesn't leave the individual completely incapable of normal everyday functions."
"All right, let's assume for the moment that I take your theories on antimagic as fact," said Hermione, shivering. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder without thinking. "Explain to me the Muggle-born crisis. Muggle-born fertility is falling faster than any other figure in the wizarding population."
"As I've previously said, I believe your friend Mr. Lupin was right in many of his assumptions," said Babbling. "This area of study is much surer than the question of antithetical matter, so I hope you will take my word as scientific fact rather than the rambling of a diminutive old woman. We have proven, through direct observational studies, that magic is not simply genetic, and that an environmental presence is necessary. From what we can tell, magic is genetic in some sense, but the gene – or genes – necessary require some sort of 'activation' from the environment, or a necessary level of contact with magic or magical residue that latches onto the susceptible gene and mutates it, which then allows for a person's magical core to develop. Generally, we have found that more powerful wizards seem to have been 'activated' at a younger development phase as a fetus, due to either a more susceptible combination of genes or a greater level of environmental magic, and that the time in the womb is the most important time of magical development next to puberty.
"Many of his theories about – what did he call it? – 'old magic' are correct as well. For centuries wizards have been positively idiotic about their usage of wards and long-term spells, and at some point we reached a breaking point where there was a sudden and volatile change in the amount of clustered environmental magic in Britain, and most worryingly, the rate of magical deterioration hasn't abetted. Also, antithetical matter has a profound effect: large clusters of antithetical matter radically alter the environment around them and actually appear to reverse the flow of magical gravity, so that magic drifts apart rather than together, which has sped up the process. There are other factors," she said, taking a breath for the first time in minutes (Hermione thought), "but those are the ones to which we give the most weight and consideration."
"So to start, we need to somehow find a way to prevent the dispersal of magic through the drift from areas of old magic," Hermione began, her mind working at a furious pace, "and then we also need to find a way to contain and destroy antithetical matter, while preventing it from being created in the first place."
"In a word… yes."
Harry let out a low whistle and his thumb rubbed Hermione's shoulder spontaneously. "Sounds tricky. I don't know about you, Hermione, but I figure I've done my bit for society. If you want to tackle this, I'll always be a shoulder to cry on, but I don't think I've got the mind for this."
"Nonsense – your mind is perfectly fine," Hermione said distractedly. She bit her lip. "Ms. Babbling – Florence – when we negated that small amount of antimagic, what happened to it?"
"The antithetical matter was negated, of course," Babbling replied as if it had not been a very intelligent question.
"Ah, not the antimagic. I mean, what happened to the magic inside the object?"
"Oh. Well, at its core, another energy conversion occurred, and the magic contained by the object and the magic distorted by the antithetical matter are dispersed into the environment."
"So there's no loss of environmental magic when antimagic is negated?"
"No," answered Babbling. "There's actually a gain, theoretically speaking, although we've never been able to negate a significant enough quantity of the matter to make any mathematical verifications."
The shield shimmered for a moment and the black mass became fleetingly visible, and then the darkness returned. Hermione's eyes remained focused on where the blob of antimagic had briefly appeared before she turned to Harry.
"Harry," she croaked with a hoarse voice, "I need it. It's time."
Harry reached into his left back pocket and withdrew a wand, poorly lit in the dim lighting of the cavern, and held it out for Hermione to take.
"Grab it," he muttered. "I don't want it any longer than I have to hold it."
She nodded and shuddered as her fingers closed around the shaft of the wand. She could feel the raw power emanating from it, felt like she could do anything with it. But she couldn't. She was not its master, and it would not answer to her. But hopefully, soon enough, it would have no master, and would never answer to anyone again.
"What's that?" asked Babbling, breathless.
"It is," Hermione said, picking her words carefully, "a wand of considerable power. I was interested to see how it would affect the antimagic."
"You're not going to do anything with it, are you?" came the guard's worried voice. "It's volatile. I really don't think you should mess with it."
"I thank you for the display of legally mandated concern, but truth be told, I know more about this than you ever will," responded Babbling coldly, "and I think that is an absolutely fascinating idea. It is," she said, turning to Hermione, "of much greater power than an ordinary wand, I hope?"
"Much greater."
"Good. If you will…"
Hermione hesitated with the wand in her hand. She could understand its draw now; now that it was in her hand she never wanted to let it go. But Harry nodded and she let Babbling take the wand, and the Unspeakable let out a short breath.
"Incredible," she whispered. Her eyes flitted to the two teenagers. "Wands out, please. The magical runoff could be rather extreme, depending on the power of the wand."
The two obliged, and with her free hand Babbling picked up another large stick with a protruding claw and grabbed the wand with the claw. Slowly, she led the claw of the stick toward the shield with both her hands on the shaft of the staff, and as the wand passed the shield the guard let out another breathy warning.
"Are you absolutely certain of this? We've never done anything like this."
"Not certain at all, my compatriot," Babbling replied, "but this should be quite entertaining either way, shouldn't it?"
The claw moved forward. The wand was inches now from the black mass – the cave seemed to glow – an inch now – centimeters – Hermione's skin tingled –
Alabaster wood met jet black antimagic and the buzzing in the air stopped. Harry's breath caught next to her and then the cave roared.
If the cavern had been dark before, now it was lit up as if provided with a thousand newborn suns. The antimagic, once black, now shone a strong white with blue and purple wrinkles and spots, and the wand wasn't visible at all, enveloped by the substance. Only now did Hermione see how far back the mass of antimagic extended, and how deep the cave was. Wind seemed to rush into the cave, and there was another moment of silence before the natural progression occurred and the wind rushed out.
Harry fell back into her and Hermione tried to catch him, but it was largely a useless affair. Harry finally stuck his foot against the stalagmite and braced her back with his hand and hip, and Babbling flattened against the wall to the eastern side. Hermione whipped her wand in the air and tried to conjure a shield, but nothing happened, as if all the magic had been sucked from her.
Hermione didn't know how long it was until the roaring stopped, but her temples pounded with pain at the end of it, and she was vaguely aware that her head rested against Harry's shoulder. Babbling had been knocked off her feet and was glancing around dizzily, and she could hear the guard curse at the entrance to the cave.
The cavern was dark now, but slowly the light returned and the shield shone weakly in front of them. Hermione pointed her wand forward and hacked out, "Lumos," but nothing happened. Again she tried and again she failed. She suddenly worried that she had gone too far; that she had suffered the fate of Errolan Jones; that she had lost her magic, something she'd never thought possible to lose, her entire life…
There was a warm rush to her head and she felt Harry shiver behind her.
"Did you feel that?" he breathed.
"Yes," she said.
He placed his hand on her forearm and pointed her wand hand upward. "Try again."
"Lumos," she said without giving herself time to doubt her ability, and a bright light shone from the tip of her wand.
At first she thought her eyes were tricking her. But no, she blinked, and there it was again. Where there had been a large mass of antimagic behind the shield, now there were only patches on the ground, no more than puddles. And the wand lay on the ground, still white as bone.
"Can you get the wand…?"
But Babbling was already on her feet and with the staff in hand. Slowly and deliberately she pierced the shield and dragged the wand back to the other side of the shield. She groped and scraped it off the ground, looked at it, and then tossed it to Hermione, who quite nearly didn't catch it.
"Try," said Babbling simply.
Hermione handed the wand to Harry. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted in an unpleasant manner, and he shouted, "LUMOS!"
No light formed.
"Maybe your… try the other wand," muttered Hermione.
Harry did, and his spell lit up the room. He drew out the other wand and tried again but there was nothing.
"The wand is dead," he said, a grim note of satisfaction evident in his voice.
"You sound pleased," said Babbling.
"Of course I'm pleased," Harry replied. "This means that no one has any reason to assassinate me just so they can be master of the Elder Wand."
"The Elder – but that's myth!"
Harry just frowned and he tossed the wand back at the Unspeakable. "It's not. That's how I defeated Voldemort. You can have it. I don't want it anymore."
Babbling's eyes widened appreciatively and she pocketed the now dead Elder Wand.
"It's gone, then," Hermione stated, struggling to speak. "The antimagic. We've released the magic."
"You think?" the guard snorted sarcastically. "I heard you were bright, too. Or did you not see the big white flash and all that wind?"
Harry threw her a glare and the guard promptly shut up.
"Yes, I think that worked," Babbling said, smiling. Hermione noticed with a twinge of something unfamiliar that Babbling's smile was actually quite attractive – serene, even. "It's an interesting method. I'm not sure if we can find anything quite as powerful as the Elder Wand, but we hadn't ever had anything that powerful to work with. Pure magical injection into antimagic is too difficult, especially with the shields; but creating a magical object, a conduit, is a wonderful idea that I'm ashamed we hadn't considered more seriously and not just as an experimental tool. This," she chuckled, "will be included in my report."
Hermione smiled back. "Good."
It was two in the afternoon when they returned to the Ministry, and Harry stopped in with Percy to talk on their way back to the Atrium. Hermione waited politely outside for the men to finish their conversation, and Harry smiled at her as he exited and led her to the Atrium, where they took the Muggle exit out and dined at a pleasant Muggle pizzeria nearby.
They steadfastly ignored the events of the day for the most part, although Harry tried to express his gratitude for the destruction of the Elder Wand on several occasions only to be shushed by Hermione ("What? You only might have saved my life, you know.").
"So how are things with you and Ginny?" Hermione asked as Harry tucked into his third slice of pepperoni-and-olive pizza.
"Fine," he said, and he took a large bit out of the crust, leaving the slice lopsided. Hermione frowned. "I mean, we really don't know what we are or what we're doing, but we're talking and being friends and eventually we'll probably move forward. I just… I mean, I wanted to get together with her after the war, but the last year was too different for both of us. I'm not the same, and neither is she. So we recognized that and we're friends."
"I know. You've been friends for a long time."
"There's no rush," he replied breezily. "I don't feel the need to move into a serious relationship yet. I haven't been ready for a while. I think I almost am. I think, and Ginny would agree with this, that we've just spent the last few months trying to scale back our stress and that we weren't ready to deal with moving onto a relationship yet. But I think I'm about there. I don't know."
Hermione gazed sleepily at a crow roosting on an overhanging branch and took a sip of her iced tea. "Do you love her?"
"I thought I did." He bit out another part of the crust and peppered the pizza with paprika. "I didn't, though. It was just happiness from feeling normal for a few months before Dumbledore died. But I think I can love her. I think I could. Maybe it's not a problem of loving her, more of a problem with being in love with her. And I think we're both almost ready for that."
"That's good," Hermione said.
"It is."
Hermione nibbled at her salad. Harry glanced back and forth, set down the slice and murmured, "Ron gets back tomorrow."
"That's good," Hermione said. Harry nodded and ate his pizza, and Hermione watched the birds fly by with an unusual sense of contentment.
Harry accompanied her back to her flat, claiming that he wanted to borrow one of her books for something or other (she was too content to question him), and he waited patiently for her to unlock the front door. The flat was dark as they entered, and when Hermione flipped the light switch she was met with a loud roar.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
She stared, stunned, at the bevy of people in front of her. Mainly Weasleys and her parents, but Neville was there, and even Kingsley as well, along with McGonagall, who had evidently made it out from Hogwarts to visit.
"I – I," she stammered.
"You forgot," said Harry with a grin.
"I thought it was tomorrow," she eventually said.
"Of course Hermione forgets her own birthday," George stated loudly so that everyone could hear. "Thankfully Harry didn't. And your wards are a pain, by the way. Harry and I spent the better part of last night working on them. We had to call over Bill to help us."
"You broke into my wards?" Hermione spluttered.
"Expanded them," Harry answered. "Wouldn't have been able to, but I cosigned on the flat, remember? They still were a royal pain."
"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said happily, "you all just grow up so fast!"
George rolled his eyes and faked sobbing. Mrs. Weasley slapped him on the arm and he hid behind an armchair.
She spent a time eating cake (even though she was already full) and opening presents in the company of the others, and she honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun. She was just Hermione now, just another friend and member of the family, and her dad (still sporting a nice Australian tan) spent much of the time telling embarrassing stories about her as a baby and Hermione spent much of the time blushing and denying everything he said.
"Nice get-together," said Kingsley next to her at the table as she grabbed another slice of cake for herself and her mother to share. "Your mother is lovely."
"She is," Hermione agreed. "By the way – I went to Azkaban today with Florence Babbling and Harry, and you'll never believe the results. The Unspeakables are giving you a report in two weeks, I know, but really the results were astounding, and I really think I should report on some of them sooner –"
"Hermione, relax," Kingsley cut in, his voice low and amused. "It's a Sunday. It's your birthday. You've done enough for ten years. Today I'm here to celebrate with you and enjoy the company of good friends. Tomorrow I promise I'll be your prick of a boss again and drive you to your last wit. Do we have an accord?"
Hermione gaped at him and then finally laughed and said, "That sounds great."
"Good. Now what's this I hear about you and falling off a horse…?"
When almost everyone had left, George and Harry remained behind to clean up, loudly proclaiming that since they'd invaded her privacy it was the least they could do to help her fix her flat back up. She tried to help, but they threatened her with violence if she moved a muscle, and so she sat back on the couch and watched them return the flat to its former mundane glory and exchange jokes.
When Harry was in the toilet, George lifted something from underneath the coffee table and discreetly handed it to Hermione, cleaning the top of a shelf as he did so.
"What's this?"
"Open it," he said.
It was a plain brown package, and she ripped open the brown paper and took out what lay inside. On top was a letter, written in familiar scrawl, and it read:
Sorry I couldn't be there for the big day. I bet you forgot anyway, didn't you? Typical.
I've got another actual present for you, but I got this as a peace offering for missing your birthday. I'm thinking about you. Don't tell anyone I said that, especially not George. I hope he didn't read this.
I'm back Monday – tomorrow when you get this. And I'll want to talk to you. Dinner?
Ron.
Underneath lay three lilies and a huge box of sugar-free candy. Hermione grinned.
"What is it?" Harry asked as he shuffled out of the bathroom, buckling up his belt.
Hermione said nothing and placed the candy on the shelf, the lilies in a vase, and the letter in her pocket, humming a tune she'd never heard before.