Chapter 19: MAGIC

Oh, she really loved it when she's right.

With her full access to Ministry Registry and Ministry Archive, it only took her one afternoon to find out about Galvin Ollivander. Even though she couldn't find any record about his work in Department of Mystery but his current address was listed and, lucky her, it was a century old house. Using House-Elf employment as excuse, she penned a letter for a visit on Friday.

It was too easy and she couldn't help to wonder why Harry hadn't reached him first. Considering that he was actually Garrick Ollivander's uncle, with his fondness on Harry he should have no problem to tell Harry if he asked. Unless Harry didn't know about his connection to the case before she'd told him, which was strange because why else then had he wanted to investigate his working table. Not that Harry would not tell her anything if she questioned him.

So she didn't say more than what necessary when she informed him about the appointment. Gone was the day when there's no secret between them, where they would conquer every obstacle together. Oh, the price of growing up.

That thought flashed in her mind as they walked side by side towards the lone red bricked cottage by the cliff. Who could predict the future, they would always be friend, she's sure of it, but their paths might go to different direction somewhere. She felt a gentle tug in her chest, realising this might be their last 'adventure' together.

"Ron was sorry, you know," Harry blurted suddenly.

Hermione huffed a resigned sigh, glancing at the empty space on Harry's other side. Yes, in fact they'd already missed one person in their 'together'. If not for their job titles, it's for other reason as well.

Somehow Ron had found out about her meeting with Viktor and to say that he didn't take it well was an understatement. Two days ago, once more Harry'd had to be the referee for their screaming match which had ended with him leaving in anger as usual. She reckoned that Ron needed to work on his jealousy, but unfortunately she didn't have time to help him in this matter right now.

"You know what, Harry. Between the three of us, Ron is the most expert in apologising," she remarked tepidly. "Admitting your mistake and apologise is hard thing to do, but at his rate I don't know whether it's a good thing or not."

He gave out an amused chortle. "Well, he has his moment. But so do we."

"Then you don't need to worry, I know the drill. He'll come around, apologise, and I'll forgive him," Hermione dead-panned. In time like this, she wondered how it would be they had decided to be in relationship. Perhaps they would add break-up and make-up as their new routine. Oh joy, she thought wryly.

They had arrived at the front door so their conversation had to reach an end. Since Hermione was the one who made this appointment, Harry took a step aside to indicate his stance as her entourage. They didn't need to wait long for the door to open. Standing before them was a man who looked so ancient, the missing long beard only accentuated every wrinkle and folded skin on his face.

"Miss Granger, right on time. I've been expecting you." His gaze moved to the man on her side. A flicker of suspicion flashed in his expression but instantly replaced by a polite welcoming smile. "Ah Mr Potter! To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving war hero visit in my humble home?"

His hand was still on the handle and he didn't show any sign of moving from where he stood. For a second Hermione thought perhaps bringing Harry with her was not a good decision. Living alone in a small secluded cottage facing the North Sea far from everywhere despite his advance age should say something about his character.

"I'm sorry Mr Ollivander, but are we going to converse here?" Hermione interjected in her most pleasant and smooth tone. If there's one thing that she'd learnt the most while working in Office for House-Elf Relocation, that was how to handle Pure-blood echelon, especially one from older generation.

He covered his surprised at her jab with a controlled laugh. "My bad, forgive this old man. It's not often I receive guest, sometimes it seems I just forget my manner. Please do come in."

The inside of the house was more spacious than the impression it gave from outside. Hermione was not sure whether it was some Extendable Charm in place or merely a combination of minimal furniture and how it was arranged. However, the unfortunate side effect of it was that the room felt cold and empty with just a lone coffee table and its set of chairs at the centre – it looked to be placed exactly at the centre of the room – facing to the large glass window, the wall was bare with not even wallpaper to decorate it.

"Very interesting arrangement you have here, sir," she verbalised her thought.

Mr Ollivander gestured them to take a seat. "Thank you, Miss Granger. I just don't like anything obstructs my view."

His point was emphasised with him sitting on the chair that faced directly towards the window and only wall behind him while Hermione and Harry had the door on their back. He didn't say anything else after that though. It was pretty obvious that there would be no more pleasantries but he wouldn't be the one who broached whatever subject they'd have first.

Hermione held back not to sigh or roll her eyes since it would depict her as tactless and crass which would only lead her back to front door in no time. Pure-blood. But he was way older than her so for whatever reason, it would be ill-mannered of her to be rude.

"Mr Ollivander," she addressed him amicably, "as I mentioned in my letter, my visit today is related to House-Elf. Following the last war, many House-Elves are without master and currently the Ministry is looking for new house to relocate them. Forgive me for being direct, but do you willing to house one, sir?"

He rubbed his chin, eyeing her with assessing look. After a while, he noted, "I heard what you did to several well known families, Miss Granger. That was very clever, though I'm curious what made you change your approach."

"It's well known that I love learning new thing, sir."

"I see," he said evenly. He shifted his attention to Harry. "I don't socialised much nowadays, so forgive me if I wasn't aware that a simple matter like House-Elf relocation needs to be escorted by Auror, Mr Potter."

"Actually I'm here for different matter," the young Auror confessed.

"Oh, please do tell, Mr Potter. That's the least I can do after you saved my nephew. If my family wand-making art still live on today, it's only because of your action."

"Please don't mention it, sir. We just happened to be at the same place, there's no heroic rescue mission."

Harry was never good with praise, especially over what he had done during the war. Many times he told her how he didn't deserve most of the feats that was credited to him, it always made him feel uncomfortable and uneasy. Hermione knew that he never liked his hero status which always made her wondered why he chose Auror as a career.

He cleared his throat and brought them back to his objective. "Mr. Ollivander, what do you know about Augustus Rookwood?" he inquired straightforwardly.

A brief twitch on his eyebrow was the only hint that it wasn't a question he'd expected. Still, nothing betrayed his composure. "Ah, that young fellow. But it's been years since I retired from Ministry, Mr Potter. I'm afraid the only thing I can tell you is that we were working in the same department at the same time at some point."

Harry eyed him suspiciously and pressed on, "This is important. It will not be good for you if we find out that you keep a secret about him."

"I'm sorry I can't help you, Mr Potter." He stood up, indicating that their conversation – and thus their audience – was over. He remained cordial though, maybe this was some sort of standard mannerism of politeness among Pure-blood because Hermione often saw it in her usual house visits. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have other engagement this afternoon. If you –"

"What is the Gate, Mr Ollivander?" Hermione cut-in from her seat. Gryffindor never talked in circle and this whole prevarication really began to grate her.

This one incited more significant reaction from him. His piercing stare stayed longer on her, scrutinising. For the first time Hermione could read him; he's gauging how much she knew and maybe contemplating whether to humour her or not. Since he's standing she had to lift her chin to maintain eye contact, but she wouldn't back down even if she would ended up with stiff neck.

Fortunately, only a minute ticked by and his face softened again. "Miss Granger, do you know why Muggle-born is called Mudblood?"

So Gryffindor's approach didn't work on him. She bit the inner side of her cheek to hold her growl. They shared same surname so naively she thought that he would be easy to talk to like Ollivander the wandmaker. But then again, Walburga Black was Sirius's mother and looked how they were.

She caught a movement on her left and was quick enough to grab Harry's elbow in warning. Taking a discreet deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face again when she turned back to Ollivander, showing that his word didn't affect her. "No, I don't. Although since my kind's blood is red, not brown, I'm sure it wasn't because of the colour," she answered calmly.

"Knowledge, Miss Granger, is an invaluable treasure. Considering your heritage, it's surprising that you even know about Elf's bond," he continued this byplay in the same light tone.

"As I said earlier, Mr Ollivander, I'm always willing to learn."

"Alas, not every Muggle-born thinks like you, Miss Granger. They're lacking in magical knowledge yet most don't want to learn. On the contrary, they deem it old fashioned and replace it with their Muggle culture. Looking at their uncouth behaviour, some has wondered was it because they came from dirty blood,"

Hermione recognised that he was baiting her, but not Harry. This time, he jumped to his feet, ready to strike, faster than her hand.

"HARRY, SIT DOWN!" Her tone was enough to freeze Harry on his track. "If you can't listen then you can leave. I'll be fine on my own," she admonished him, no room for doubt that she's serious. Returned to Ollivander, she spoke as if they weren't interrupted "So Mr Ollivander, would you care to elaborate?"

Ollivander cracked a lopsided smile and lowered down onto his chair, sitting in more relax manner than previously. "Very well then. But for this conversation, we will need tea. Mr Potter?"

Harry gritted his teeth, but sat back on his chair. Ollivander flicked his fingers, demonstrating his ability in wandless magic to summon three cups and a pot of tea. Silence descended as he prepared tea for them with no urgency. He even waited until they sipped their tea quietly before he started.

"What you must know, Miss Granger, is that magic doesn't manifest to every creature randomly, including among human," he began.

"I assume at least one of my ancestors was magical. I haven't figured it out who, but he or she most likely was Squip, banished to Muggle world due to the lack of magic."

"It didn't always happen that way, Miss Granger, especially in the beginning when both communities still openly mingled with each other. Even the term of Squip or Muggle-born had not existed, there's only magical and non-magical one. Then we have Statue of Secrecy," he recounted.

"It started with the typical reasons, Miss Granger; the quest to discover the ultimate magic. The general knowledge was that magic came from inside of us, some said it was generated by the body while other thought that it came from the soul. There was an old belief that wizards could access their magical core when they were in the throes of passion, after all what more magical than the ancient ritual of creating a new life? Even better if they're virgin, Maidenhood Blood was famous to be very potent in harnessing magic."

"Rape," she spat in disdain. "They raped Muggle girls, used them for dark magic then most likely Obliviate them later. And later they said their bastard descendants stole their magic?"

"Making assumption and jumping to conclusion. A bit unwise when you're pursuing knowledge, Miss Granger." His tone was patronising but enough to make her feel properly chastised. "It was not considered rape back then. Having advantage with their magic, it's not hard for a wizard to elevate his status among Muggles, many even managed to join the rank of nobles. And by owning an estate, they're not only 'own' the land, but also people who lived there as well."

Her breath hitched. "Jus Primae Noctis," she whispered.

Harry frowned at her in puzzlement but she ignored him, there's no time to explain it to him yet.

"It's known as Droit du seigneur in my homeland. But your assumption is not fully incorrect," he remarked. "You have to remember that at that time, siring illegitimate child was not uncommon among nobles. Not to mention magical conception was more difficult than non-magical one. It's very often that if the child was identified as magical, especially if it's a boy, he would be adopted by the legal wife and was acknowledged as legitimate heir when the legal wife couldn't provide one, which was also very common.

"But this practice was out of favour rather quickly, even frowned upon among the peerage, especially in magical circle after intercourse was later seen as something sacred, the bonding of two souls hence their magic as well. The fact that this practice had ever happened was denied, all records vanished, until it was only a myth and was forgotten.

"As magical community enlarge, the segregation with non-magical community became larger as well. So when suddenly child with magical ability seemed to appear out of nowhere in non-magical community, it certainly raised questions. But the older generations knew the truth. Parents who both had blond hair and blue eyes could have a baby with dark hair and brown eyes just because one of their great-grandfather had one. It's easy to deduce what had happened.

"It's not the blood that dirty, Miss Granger, it's the act of how they were conceived. And to put distance from it, either because they distasted it or to conceal their past sins or involvement, the newly first magical generation were given bad reputation."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. It's make sense, Nobody surely never wanted their great-grandchildren finding out their past debauchery when said kid befriending their unknown long lost cousin in some Muggle village, even worse if they felt in love with each other. It would be a huge scandal if the secret was ever uncovered and after dealing with many Pure-blood, Hermione knew how important reputation was for them, particularly among the wealthy one who most likely had ancestors with Muggle noble title.

"I don't understand," Hermione commented, filling the silence that had descended for the past five minutes, "in the beginning you've mentioned that magic is within us, I've heard similar theory from many other sources. But the way you put it, it sounds like being magical is like having inherited genetic defect. Biologically there's nothing different between Muggle and wizardkind or someone would surely notice when I did my medical check-up in the past. Physically, I mean, nothing different," she added hastily as she presumed Ollivander wouldn't understand what she meant by 'genetic' or 'biology'.

"So that leaves soul as the source of magic. But then it would be like you split your soul and give it to your child. I just can't fathom how it can be done when both parents and child still alive and well." Horcrux came up in her mind, but in that case Mr and Mrs Weasley would be competing with Voldemort with their seven children.

The way Ollivander looked at her, it seemed like he gave her an approval. "Do you know that not every wood can be made into a wand, Miss Granger? Or have you ever wondered why you never find pigeon feather or lion mane been used as wand core? Can you guess why?"

Hermione chewed her lower lip, her fingers tapping her knee in methodical rhythm – an old habit when she's deep in thought. It really helped that Harry was quiet, not even fidgeting like impatient teenager he used to be. Instead he did pay attention of their conversation, just listening with mouth tightly shut as if he never intended to interrupt.

"We don't have magic because magic is external force," she surmised. "Being magical, there's something in our gene – our DNA – that makes us can access it. Just like a wand, our body is only a medium to wield magic. Is that why it's said that wandless magic is more draining so we use wand instead of our body?"

He gave her an open and wide smile, clearly pleased. "You do live up to your reputation, Miss Granger," he said genially. "Oh we do have magic, Miss Granger, because the ability to wield it is also part of magic itself. We're magical because we have the 'key' to access magic. But you're right, it's an external force. In fact, I believe that it comes from earth.

"Many old lore mentioned about magic of the land. In wandlore, that's the reason why we use wood instead of metal even though wood is more fragile. Tree is the only living being that connect directly into the earth. However, its feature is too different than us human so small part of magical creature is added as intermediary. And just like in human where there are some who can access magic while other can't, same for tree and other creature."

"You mean the Gate is literally a gate, like some sort of an entrance to a magical land where magic is coming? Like Avalon or Tir na nOg?"

He barked a merry guffaw, as if he's happier than her that she figured it out. "Miss Granger, your mind is wasted in the House-Elf Relocation Office. Have you ever considered working in Department of Mystery? I'll be glad to give you my recommendation if you ever change your mind."

"Thank you, sir. But right now, I'm happy with my job," she replied, suddenly feeling shy. "Is it real then? The Gate? Did anybody ever find it or prove its existence?"

"Is Avalon real? Has anybody ever been in Tir no nOg? Who know?"

So he's back to evasion again, something that she now reckoned to mean that he wouldn't answer. Or it could be he wanted her to find it out herself like some or his earlier questions. Although it could also meant a simple 'no'. Other possibility was that nothing was proven yet there's strong evidences (whatever it was) led to it, the research was still ongoing in the Department of Mystery and the data was most likely was the things that were stolen.

This baffled her, what's wrong with direct and open discussion anyway. Minus the long beard, the way Ollivander conducted himself reminds her of Dumbledore. Or maybe old age brought a tendency to speak in riddle, intentionally done to confuse the younger.

"It's a pleasure to converse with you, Miss Granger, but I apologise, I do have another engagement this past noon."

Hermione startled awake from her stupor, blinking to gather her wit back. Harry was more in control and he responded for them both.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Ollivander. We'll leave you to it then." He rose up from his seat, gesturing Hermione to do the same with a tilt of his head.

Ollivander escorted them to the door. He didn't let go of her hand when she bid her farewell.

"I suppose somehow you stumble upon Rendtorff's text, Miss Granger," he said. "Use it well if you happen to have it in your hand. There's a lot of knowledge you will discover in it. Just keep your mind open and don't fixate to one assumption."

"I will, sir. Thank you."

Hermione heard the door shut when they passed the hedge. She only managed three more yard before she broke their silent walk. They were in open and the sea breeze would cover their voice anyway so no need to worry about being overheard.

"So? Where will we start?"

"Nowhere," Harry replied shortly, didn't slow his pace or even glance at her. "I'm serious, Hermione. No more after this."

She's not accepting it though. "Harry, you mentioned Rookwood back there. He's the one behind this, right? I know I'm right with my suspicion that this has something to do with Death Eater. What if this was part of Voldemort's plan that he wants to continue?"

"Then I just have to catch him before he did," he stated in the same flat tone and resolute manner. "I learnt my lesson, Hermione. Every time I snoop around, I only ended up helping my enemy getting what they want. So instead of chasing what he's after, I'll hunt him down."

"But– ,"

He abruptly stopped, spun around to face her. "Some secret are better left untouched, Hermione. And we're talking about a place, not an object that can be taken unlike the Hallows. And from what Ollivander said, nobody has ever managed to prove its existence. So even if it's real, it will be safe. Leave it, okay."

It's very unusual for Harry to raise his voice at her and his opinion was not unfounded as well, so she backed down. At least for now.

"How will you report this to Kingsley?"

"Nothing. He doesn't need to know about this Gate. I definitely can't make it sound convincing without mentioning about the Hallows. After all, who in their right mind will take a child bedtime story seriously."

"Dragon is part of bedtime story yet it turns out to be real," she murmured.

"Point." He placed his hands on her shoulders, willing her to look at his eyes. "Promise me you will not pursue this again, okay. You have your own job, it's your main responsibility."

"You know I can't make that promise, right?" She returned the sentiment with a defiant stare.

He released a loud defeated sigh. "Just don't do anything dangerous then," he conceded. "Spend your time in library reading ten inches old tome as much as you want, but don't put yourself in dangerous situation like sneaking into place you don't belong."

A sound came out from her mouth as she started to protest but he held up a finger to silence her.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Hermione, but you don't have any obligation to be involved in this. You're one of few I have left in my life and I can never risk you to be in unnecessary danger. Please, do it for me, just for my peace of mind," he pleaded.

When he put it that way, she didn't have any other choice besides to nod. She'd grant him his wish, she'd put it aside for now.

Hermione was not one who believed in superstition but at that moment, she hoped the howling wind that crash towards them was not an ominous sign for whatever to come.

A/N:

From Wikipedia and other sources:

* Jus Primae Noctis (Latin): "right of the first night", is the right of local noble to deflower local peasant bride on her wedding night (remember Mel Gibson's Braveheart?). Most historians agreed that it's actually fiction (at least in Europe).
* Avalon: "the isle of fruit (or apples) trees", called by Morgan le Fay as the place where "the ladies live who know all the magic in the world". It is an island in Arthurian legend where the sword of Excalibur was forged and later where Arthur was taken to recover after the Battle of Camlann.
* Tir na nOg (Irish – Yes, according to Google, that's how you write it, I don't misplace the capital): "the land of youth", is the realm of the Otherworld in Celtic legend, the place where the Fae lives and heroes visited on quests, where there's no illness or death or time, but only happiness and beauty. The best known tale of Tir na nOg is the story of the young Irish warrior Oisin.