A/N: Sorry for the slightly slow update (though you're used to much worse from me, so perhaps this was in fact a fast update?). Hope you enjoy.
PS. This was going to be much longer initially, but I couldn't get the in between part of the chapter written. I have the beginning - this part - and the end, but not the in between. So, I was hoping to make you halfway happy by at least posting what I have.
Disclaimer: It's not mine. Harry Potter or BBC Merlin
Hermione frowned at the unsolvable mystery before her. She never would have expected to one day hate a book with all her being. Even the most ridiculous of books, books with outdated ideals and opinions that clashed with her own had some value, but this… this blank collection of pages that had crushed her hopes was the most despicable thing Hermione had ever come across.
"Still nothing, eh?" Aberforth observed as he placed a large bag on his couch.
Hermione grunted her response, refusing to look away from the journal.
"Have you tried figuring out the blood runes?" He questioned.
"You've asked me that before, Abe. You know I have," the witch sighed, placing her cheek in the palm of her hand in exhaustion. "They don't make any sense. The order is illogical, the individual meanings don't go together, and I can't for the life of me, understand why some were covered in blood and not others."
"Perhaps you're looking at this too closely," the older wizard suggested, as he pulled out a bottle of aged whiskey from his bag.
"What do you mean?"
"Whenever I'm stuck on a problem, I've always found that taking a step or two back helps clear the mind."
At his words Hermione pursed her lips and walked away from the table. "I didn't mean that literally, girl," Aberforth huffed.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at his reaction in exasperation. "I know that, Aberforth," the girl snipped and paused. "Can you call Guillaume?"
"What makes you think I know where he is? Albus is the one who sorted out his hiding place."
"Please don't try to fool me, Aberforth. I'm fully aware that you and Guillaume are having a secret correspondence. You two are constantly gossiping about me. Even while he's hiding for his life."
"You know too much, girl," the Dumbledore sorcerer relented, taking out a piece of paper, scribbling a quick word on it and sending it away in a spark of light.
It only took a few seconds for Guillaume to knock on the door before scurrying into the building.
"Hello Hermione," he greeted his sister warmly.
"Guillaume!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. "I've missed you!"
Chuckling, the man embraced her back tightly. "You saw me just last week when you returned from your life-threatening quest."
"A week without your brother who's being hunted by a pack of blood-thirsty merciless Dark wizards feels doubly long," Hermione argued, making her brother laugh harder.
"So, why did you summon your brother who's running for his life?" Guillaume questioned.
"I don't know when you two started joking about your life-threatening circumstances, but I can assure you that I, for one, am not amused," Aberforth informed the duo.
"Not even a little bit?" Guillaume inquired.
"Not in the least," Abe confirmed, turning away from the pair and picking up his edition of the Daily Prophet.
"Hermione?" Guillaume focused on his sister once again as she pulled out of his arms.
"I need your particular talent for runes, Guillaume," Hermione told him.
The Delacour man frowned at the witch in concern. "I'm afraid I'm not gifted in the art of runic reading," he commented slowly, fairly certain he had told her this in the past.
"Exactly, that's the point," Hermione nodded. "With limited knowledge, you might be able to see something I haven't."
"I'm not sure I follow the logic, but I'll humour you. You've yet to make terrible mistakes so far."
Smiling gratefully, Hermione led her brother to the table where both Merlin's Book and the list of runes sat. The blond man leaned over the table thoughtfully as he carefully took in every single rune, one at a time.
His brow furrowed in confusion as his gaze traced the order of the runes. "Well, I can see why you're struggling to make sense of these runes," he muttered. "Do you have a spare parchment I-"
Before he even had time to finish his request, Hermione had already placed a quill and scroll in his hands. Guillaume nodded in thanks before dividing the paper into four sections. Quickly he methodologically copied each rune into one of his four parts, on occasion scribbling out a rune and moving it into another section. At last he leaned away and went over his work one last time before handing it over to the girl who had been watching him work intently.
"I've just sorted them for ease, I haven't made any mistakes, have I?"
Hermione squinted her eyes. "Well… you've placed this rune into the section labeled protection, but I would have rather placed it under the defense label."
"Defense, really?"
The young witch tilted her head. "It's ambiguous."
Taking the parchment back, Guillaume took into consideration her comment. "There are a few ambiguous runes, aren't there? Take this one for example, I've placed it under defense, but I originally had it down under power."
"Runes always depend on context," Aberforth interjected from across the room, his head still hidden behind the newspaper.
"In literature that's true… but when it comes to Wards, there's no need for context," Hermione murmured.
"My memory of runes is a bit rusty, but aren't there far more straightforward and powerful runes to be used for Warding?"
"There are," Hermione agreed. "But the Blood Magic made these Wards near impossible to break."
"Sure, but wouldn't it have been better for Merlin to use the other runes, even with Blood Magic?"
"Yes," Hermione agreed, looking more closely at the confusing runes.
"Which runes are the blood runes?" Guillaume questioned.
With assured movements, Hermione picked up the quill and circled five of the runes.
"Alright," Guillaume took a moment to look over each rune she had circled. "And which ones are the most confusing? The ones that are unusual for Warding?"
The Delacour girl grimaced as she moved her hand, underlining only five of the remaining runes. Once she was done, they stood silently and stared at the paper.
"There are only two runes left untouched," Guillaume remarked.
"They signify combination and understanding," Hermione breathed. "Do you think that means we should try to combine the runes together?"
"Well, they're even numbered, it seems like a logical attempt at least."
Rolling her neck Hermione huffed in frustration. "How did I not notice this? I've been staring at these runes ever since I found them with Aberforth!"
"I told you, you were looking too closely," Aberforth reminded her. "It's why you called in Guillaume. Sometimes, with too much knowledge you look for complicated solutions, when in fact, all you need to do is sort through what's right in front of you."
"You'll never be able to convince me that someone can be too knowledgeable, Aberforth. One can always learn more," Hermione responded primly. "Thank you, Guillaume," she added, somewhat sheepishly with a small smile.
Guillaume grinned at her as he squeezed her hand. "Je serais toujours la pour te débloquer," he assured her, then smiled teasingly. "Now let's first check we're on the right track before we start getting all emotional."
For the next two hours, the siblings attempted every single combination and translation they could think of. Finally, they landed on the one they considered most plausible.
"To think, all I had to do from the beginning was combine the runes, give the out of place runes context… I really can't believe I didn't think of it. It seems so obvious now."
"Don't beat yourself up about it, Hermione. You're much more involved in this than I am."
Aberforth had crossed the room when he heard them raise their voices, a clear sign that they had stopped their research.
"All done then?"
"We think so."
"What did you find?"
"Words in the blood of my blood find me."
"Are you sure that's the best translation you found?" Aberforth asked after hearing the words.
"It's the one that made the most sense," Hermione shrugged.
"Blood of my blood? Find me? We're not looking for anyone."
"Well, it's all we've got," Guillaume defended.
Aberforth hummed in response as the pair quickly looked over their translation for a final time. Seeing no immediate alternative to the translation they nodded to each other in confirmation before holding it out to Aberforth.
"So, more Blood Magic?" Aberforth grimaced in displeasure, as he read over the words.
"It seems so," Hermione agreed.
"What words need to be written though?"
"It doesn't say," Hermione muttered, frustrated.
"Maybe the words don't matter, just the blood?" Guillaume suggested.
"It would appear to be the case," Aberforth acquiesced.
"Well then, I need a knife," Hermione declared. "Accio."
Deftly catching the weapon mid-flight, Hermione quickly sliced open her left palm, not wanting to delay the inevitable longer than necessary. Dipping the tip of her quill into her blood, she decided to simply write down the runes she had decoded with her brother. As soon as the words were all written down, the trio gathered around the Book, eager to see what would happen. When nothing did, Guillaume spoke up.
"Maybe it'll just take some time?"
Hermione scoffed. "Or maybe we got the translation wrong," she snapped, annoyed that all their hard work had been for naught.
"You never know, Hermione, maybe it is time that it needs."
"At this point I suppose I have nothing to lose. And I'm still closer to figuring it out than I was before," she accepted with a sigh.
Guillaume acknowledged her words with a tight-lipped smile before getting to his feet. "I should go, Apolline is most likely waiting to have dinner with me."
He had settled into a safe house protected by the Fidelius Charm with his fiancé a few months back and Hermione was glad to see his life returning to a somewhat normal routine, now that he was no longer moving from one place to another.
"Say hello to her for me, please," Hermione said, moving to give her brother a kiss on the cheek.
Soon he was gone, leaving Hermione and Aberforth alone together in his living room. The old man gestured to the Book with his chin. "Still nothing?"
Hermione flipped it open. "Blank as ever."
"Are you staying here tonight?"
"If you don't mind," Hermione said.
With a groan, Aberforth stood and moved to his cauldron over the fire. "Not at all, the stew should be ready soon enough."
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly until Aberforth retired to his room, quickly falling into a deep sleep. Hermione stayed up by the fire, staring at the words she had written earlier. Something didn't sit right with her about the sentence, but she couldn't seem to identify what was wrong. Tilting the Book this way and that she watched entranced as the fire reflected off her dried blood. What's wrong with it? She wondered. She had been so certain that this was the way to reveal the secrets of the Book. The witch inhaled deeply as her eyes meticulously traced every single rune on the page.
Suddenly she paused.
That last rune was the problem. Somehow, the me rune was incorrect. What was it, what was it? Hermione repeated in her mind. When no answer came to her she moaned and dropped her head into her arms. Think, Hermione! She berated herself. You're not interested in helping me out, are you? She delusionally asked Merlin's Magical Core inside her. As if the Core was actually responding to her question, an image flashed through Hermione's mind. It was a runic symbol she had come across during her research on Merlin. Curious, Hermione sat up straight and looked at the final rune. She frowned. It was the same rune as the one in her head. But the one she had found hadn't been used for me. What had it been used for? She couldn't recall. Shaking her head, Hermione leaned forward and observed the rune closely. It was exactly the same, wasn't it? Yes.
No. No, it wasn't it. The rune in her mind had the tiniest flick at the end. Intrigued, Hermione raised her wand and with a small twitch, sliced open the tip of her finger. She gathered a drop of blood on the tip of her quill and hesitated for a second, trying to calm her nerves. Chances were this wouldn't work any better, she needed to relax, or she would find herself disappointed once again.
She failed to calm down entirely but lost patience and with a shaking hand, added the smallest flick to the last rune. For a moment, nothing happened, and Hermione was tempted to throw the Book across the room. But then, it happened. The runes she had written melted away, disappearing into the page.
The young witch gasped. Was this it? Had she been close to despairing all because of a misread rune, a missing flick? The words had fully gone and Hermione held her breath in anticipation until finally – finally – something appeared.
Welcome, Hermione Granger, now Delacour, it is an honour to finally meet you.
"Oh no," Hermione muttered with a determined shake of her head. No way, she was not going down that road. She was not talking to a Book. She knew exactly what could happen if she did! Sure, Merlin had never been rumoured to have made a Horcrux, but she wasn't interested in risking it!
As if reading her thoughts, more words appeared on the page.
This is not a Horcrux, Miss Delacour. This is a collection of memories and thoughts and opinions and knowledge. He never sought immortality.
How could she be sure? How could she trust the words? She had seen first-hand the horrors that came with talking to a Horcrux and she wasn't interested in experiencing that.
This is not a Horcrux. This is simply an organized and controlled way of revealing information. No one but you can control this. Think of this as an Artificial Intelligence, if you will.
It could read her thoughts? She did not like that one bit. Not at all.
I cannot read your thoughts. I can read your Magic, after all, your Magic and I are one.
Not this again.
Merlin instilled much of his Magic within me, thus, you and I are connected. Your Magic Cores are communicating with me.
How is that possible when they won't even communicate with me? Hermione thought, vexed.
Well, Miss Delacour, I do believe that is the question you hoped this Book would answer.
Hermione huffed and crossed her arms stubbornly. "If you know what I want through my Magic, why don't you just give me the answer."
I would like for you to trust me first.
"Merlin created quite the manipulative Artificial Intelligence," Hermione grumbled.
He was a Slytherin, after all.
"Those Houses didn't even exist back in his time."
Indeed, they did not, but he possessed all the traits inside him.
"So, Merlin was an arrogant prick as well?" Hermione snipped.
The Book ignored her comment and continued his explanation. With his power of foresight, Merlin knew of your Founders and sorted himself into the House he thought suited him best. That does not mean he did not possess traits from other Houses. He was brave like a Gryffindor, intelligent like a Ravenclaw, loyal like a Hufflepuff. Our world cannot be divided into four clean cut categories.
"Fair enough," Hermione shrugged, not feeling the need to argue with the Book about Merlin's personality and character. "If you're an Artificial Intelligence, do you have feelings?"
I can only echo what Merlin may have felt.
"Alright, let's say that's true. Will you tell me what I need to know?"
Do you trust me?
"Not yet."
Soon you will, Hermione Delacour. I am a part of you and once you fully accept Merlin's Core, you will know all that I know.
"Just like that?"
No. It will take time.
At his words, Hermione jolted upright. She should be more careful! Without even realizing it, she had fallen into a conversation with the Book. It could be a trap, lulling her into a false sense of security all the while sucking out her life essence just like Riddle had done to Ginny.
I am nothing like Riddle.
"How can you prove it?" Hermione demanded.
I can give you the answer to what you seek.
"Finally."
Patience is virtue, Miss Delacour.
Hermione grunted and looked at the fireplace, was the Book intentionally stalling or had Merlin somehow transferred annoying vagueness into the Book along with everything else?
I apologize, I do not mean to aggravate you.
"It's alright," Hermione found herself accepting the Book's apology without even thinking.
You wish to know how to unite your Cores, am I correct?
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "their presence prevents me from tapping into my own Magic and the more time goes by, the further out of reach all the Cores get."
The way to unite your Cores is simple. You must become one. Merlin's Core as the most powerful one, is rejecting you and dragging the other Cores away as well. It's unintentional, but it wishes to be reunited with Merlin.
"But Merlin's dead! Where does it plan to go?!"
You are resisting the Core the same way it is resisting you. This is something Merlin suspected might happen. This is why he created me, so that I could guide you.
"How are you going to guide me, then?"
By sending you to where you need to go. La Fontaine de Barenton.
"Where is that?"
In the Forest of Paimpont. There you will find the Fontaine and the way to unite your Cores.
"I've never heard of this forest, where is it?"
It is located in France and is avoided by most Muggles due to its strong Magical aura.
"I've never heard about it in the Wizarding World either."
As much as Wizards like to think they know everything, they do not, in fact, know everything. Magical Folk know of the Forest Paimpont under a different name. The Forest of the Veil. Many a talented Witch and Wizard have disappeared in that forest, you see. The Veil between the living and the dead is thin there. One wrong step and you may just find yourself in the Realm of the Dead. And unfortunately, while it's rather simple to step over to the Dead, finding your way back to the living is impossible.
"So, you're telling me to go to a place that might kill me? That doesn't sound promising."
Merlin believes in your abilities. The Fontaine lies hidden within the woods, there is no alternative. If you wish to unite your Cores, you need to find your link with Merlin, you need to find the Fontaine.
Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Can I bring someone with me?"
This is a journey you must take alone.
Well. Wasn't that just perfect, Hermione stated sarcastically in her mind. Blasted Book.
"Do you have to go today?" Aberforth questioned, as his brother entered the room.
Hermione glanced up from her satchel. "I've already waited too long. Voldemort is getting desperate, that much is obvious from the increasing disappearances. This magic issue has distracted me long enough. It's time I move past this and finally deal with Tom Riddle."
"It's a risky move," Aberforth commented, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You've verified the Book yourself, it's not a Horcrux and possesses no Dark Magic," Albus interjected, watching as Hermione slipped said Book into her bag.
"It's the Forest of Paimpont," Aberforth insisted. "Otherwise known as the Forest of the Veil. No one goes there, Albus. Never. And yet you're perfectly at ease with letting her go alone?"
"The Book claimed that it was Merlin's will," Albus stated, calmly. "We must trust that Merlin knew what he was doing."
"I don't like this one bit," Abe huffed. "Going to the tomb alone was foolish enough, but now this? It's like you have no regard for your life!"
"I'm sorry you disapprove, Aberforth, but surely you understand why I must go?" She asked slowly moving towards the older man.
"I understand," he relented. "But I'm not pleased with you for doing this. You haven't even given time for research."
"If there's one thing I've learnt from my friendships with Harry, Ron and the Marauders, is that sometimes making a plan can be a waste of time. And I've already wasted enough time. Something is coming, Aberforth, something I cannot predict, and I need to be able to protect myself when it happens."
Aberforth sighed, raising his hand to squeeze her arm in comfort before walking away. Left alone with Albus, Hermione released a deep breath.
"Are you ready, Miss Delacour?" He asked, carefully moving to her side.
"I don't think there's anything else for me to do," she admitted, tiredly.
"Shall we, then?" He offered his arm for her to hold.
The duo left the room and walked straight to a field behind the Hog's Head. "Thank you for coming with me, Albus. I must confess I didn't want to be alone."
In a somewhat sad gesture, Albus placed a wrinkled hand on his cheek and smiled at her reassuringly. "Trust in Merlin, Miss Delacour, he will not lead you wrong."
Hermione nodded silently as she met his gaze. "Fare well, my dear, I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon."
"Goodbye," she breathed before winking out of the meadow.
The young witch appeared just at the border of the forest. The trees were dense, and she couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her. Guardedly, Hermione wandered into the woods where a thick fog caused droplets of water to gather on her skin. She had only advanced past a few trees before she hesitated. Unsure in which direction to head. One wrong step could be her last and Hermione found herself increasingly worried. The silence around her was eerie and unnatural and she could feel the magic permeating the air, ground and plants around her. It was to such an extent that it felt close to suffocating and Hermione had to fight the urge to run back the way she had come.
A twig behind her snapped and she quickly twirled around with her wand raised. She gasped when a man no older than twenty-five stumbled into her view. He mumbled under his breath and used his hands to wipe away invisible residue on his sleeves.
"Honestly," he muttered, glaring over his shoulder at the offending branch that had caused him to trip.
Hermione remained frozen on the spot. The last thing she had ever expected to encounter in this forest was another person. As he continued to complain about the branch on the ground, Hermione took a second to observe his appearance. His hair was short and as dark as a raven, his eyes were incredibly bright blue and his skin unpleasantly pale. He was rather tall and his extremely lanky body was hidden under a midnight blue wizarding robe.
Blinking a few times, the young man smacked his lips together as he glanced around, his gaze finally landing on Hermione. "Oh, hello!" He exclaimed, with a wide smile.
When Hermione continued to stare at him in surprise, he opted to wave at her. "I hope I didn't frighten you, it wasn't my intention, but that blasted branch was in my way," he paused to let her respond but when the silence extended, he continued on.
"I'm afraid I've always been rather clumsy, two left feet really," he admitted, smiling genially. "You don't happen to suffer from the same unfortunate affliction, do you?"
He waited, raising his eyebrows when she remained quiet. "Riiiight weeeell… you haven't happened to have seen anyone else around, have you? I'm waiting for someone, you see," he explained.
"Umm no, you're the first I've come across," Hermione said, finally gathering her senses and overcoming her shock.
"Oh, really?" The man checked, looking around in curiosity before his gaze landed on her still outstretched wand. "Oh, you're witch! How wonderful! For a moment there, I thought you were a Muggle. Not that there's anything wrong with Muggles! My best friend was a Muggle, an amazing bloke. It's just, Muggles don't usually come into this forest, so I would have been rather surprised to find one here," he explained.
"I see," Hermione spoke, softly, finding herself growing more confused the more he talked.
Suddenly, an idea seemed to spark within the man. "Say, you might be the person I'm waiting for!"
Hermione frowned. "You don't know who it is you're looking for?"
"I should do, shouldn't I?" The man chuckled, seemingly quite amused by his predicament. "Only something went wrong with the spell it seems, so I'm afraid I've been waiting here for quite a while rather unsure of who exactly I was waiting for."
"A spell?"
"Indeed," the man confirmed. "I'm the one who created the spell, you see, so it's not really surprising that it didn't work out completely as it should have. It took me years to master the art of creating spells and still at my most powerful I was rather clumsy, even with my magic. People tend to get that wrong, you know. They think that since I could cast magic stronger than anyone else, I could also cast it better. Funny, ain't it, how people can twist things to fit the narrative. They wanted me to be the best at everything, so that's how I'm remembered, but can I tell you a secret? I was absolute bollocks at healing spells."
Hermione opened her mouth, entirely perplexed. "I'm sorry but who are you exactly?"
The young man grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Did I forget to say?" He asked, taking a few steps forward and holding his hand out for her to shake. "I'm Merlin Emrys! A pleasure to meet you!"
A/N: I'm a bit nervous posting this chapter without explaining what's really going on, but I hope you don't mind. Share your guesses if you want, but the explanation is coming in the next chapter.
Je serais toujours la pour te débloquer. - I'll always be here to help you get unstuck.