Hermione receives a mysterious prophecy that speaks of ancient magic and a fallen prince. DM/HG. AU/Canon-divergent.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights. This is JK Rowling intellectual property. No dollars either.
Metanoia
Chapter 1 – The Horcrux Hunt
delphicpigeon
It was dark and cold. The sound of static-filled jazz drifted softly from the canvas tent and despite encouraging reports of no new deaths, Hermione's teeth were on edge. Ron's abrupt departure from the small camp following a heated exchange had left her with a pounding headache that not even a quick Subsidio Capitis could fix. She knew Harry was just as hurt as she was, but he showed little indication otherwise. He just continued to move them from place to place while setting up enchantments to protect them from being seen. Their knowledge of the Sword of Gryffindor's potential ability to destroy horcruxes was all they had to go on. Unfortunately, the sword was missing and Ron's horcrux-fueled accusations of some romantic conspiracy between Hermione and Harry had brought the group to a dead end.
Ron had been one-third of their trio since they encountered that troll in the dungeon six years ago. Hermione snorted at the thought of a troll being the worst thing to encounter. What she would not give to be dealing with a troll rather than a temperamental Harry Potter and an absent Ronald Weasley.
"Although," she admitted, "an absent Ron certainly makes things simpler."
Hermione winced thinking back of when they had awkwardly shared a kiss at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Hermione had immediately regretted the decision. Beyond the butterflies of a first kiss, she had felt nothing. The kiss had been perfectly normal, but it certainly had not inspired any other feelings of passion. She remembered Ron blushing his signature red flush while mumbling some half-hearted apology and quickly scurried away to refill his butterbeer. That encounter left Hermione feeling rather silly and vulnerable, but slightly relieved that any notions of romance with the second youngest Weasley were completely dashed. She still loved Ron but now was not the time to be considering of any sort of romantic thoughts. There were horcruxes to find and destroy, along with a Dark Lord to overthrow.
Coming back to the reality, Hermione tried to focus on her copy of the Tales of Beetle the Bard. The faded blue cover was starting to fray, and she had committed the cardinal sin of dog-earing any pages she felt may help. Despite her nearly obscene love for books, Hermione took this as her own personal vengeance against Dumbledore for giving her such an infuriating and, apparently, nearly impossible task. She had read the stories over and over hoping something might jog her memory, but nothing happened. She sighed, snapped the book shut, and rose up to rejoin Harry in the tent.
Harry was laying in his cot staring at the golden snitch that Dumbledore had bequeathed to him. He appeared deep in thought and was rotating the small object with the greatest of care. Hermione quietly observed Harry from the entrance of the tent. Despite the dark bruise-like shadows under his eyes, Harry's emerald green eyes could be seen intently studying the snitch with a combination of scrutiny and exasperation. He reached up to push a strand of his unruly, black hair away from his eyes and Hermione laughed softly when it fell right back into place.
"Those have flesh memories, you know." Hermione pointed out.
Harry stopped his inspection and looked up at Hermione in surprise. "Flesh memories?" he asked. Hermione walked over to the wooden table where her enchanted beaded bag sat and dug out her copy of Quidditch Throughout the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp. The thumbed to the section on "The Golden Snitch" and read:
Originally created as a replacement for the endangered Golden Snidget (a small golden magical bird with fully rotational wings, best known for early use in the wizarding game of Quidditch) in the early 1500's by Bowman Wright, a professional and highly-skilled metal charmer. Golden snitches preserve flesh memories.
A flesh memory is a memory retained by a Golden Snitch of the Seeker who caught it, in order to avoid Quidditch disputes over the capture of a Snitch. A Snitch is never touched by human hands before a match, and the makers wear gloves. Only the Seeker is supposed to touch the Snitch.
"Think about the flesh memory that would be associated with this particular snitch." Hermione suggested. Harry paused with his brow furrowed in concentration until realization slowly dawned across his face.
"Hermione, you are brilliant!" he sang. "I didn't catch the snitch with my hand. I caught it my mouth. I nearly swallowed the damn thing!" he shouted, nearly falling out of the cot in excitement. Harry stood and Hermione watched as he brought the snitch to his lips in a surprisingly tender gesture.
Slowly, in elegant script, the words "I close at the open" appeared across the smooth, golden surface. She gasped softly and Harry looked up with a mix of uncertainty and hope.
"What do you think it means?" he asked. Hermione sighed and shook her head. Dumbledore was clever, but his flair for the dramatic and lack of actual instructions annoyed her.
"Don't worry, we'll figure it out." Hermione suggested gently. He nodded, gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, and headed to the entrance of the tent to begin the next watch until morning. Hermione climbed into bed and exhaustion quickly pulled her to sleep.
The next morning, following an uneventful report watch from Harry and a breakfast of cold tinned beans on dry toast, Hermione thought she would give Beetle the Bard another once-over before her watch started. Flipping through the children's book again, something unfamiliar and out of place caught Hermione's amber eyes.
A knut-sized triangular symbol containing a vertical line and circle that appeared to have been inked in just above the title of the book. Hermione scrutinized the image and wondered how she missed this picture in the first place. It had been surprisingly easy to miss. Almost as if a Notice-Me-Not spell had been applied to the image. Hermione grunted in exasperation at the image. Of course, Dumbledore would put a Notice-Me-Not on the book.
"Harry? Have you seen this before?" Hermione asked while rotating the book for Harry to see.
Harry glanced at the image, shrugged his shoulders, and with an impish grin suggested, "Maybe Dumbledore felt like doodling."
Hermione rolled her eyes and snapped the book shut. "Do you have any other helpful suggestions?", she shot back in annoyance. Harry's grin turned into a sad smile and the light in his emerald eyes appeared to dim a bit.
"I'd actually like to go to Godric's Hollow. It is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor and my home. Maybe a clue is hidden there." Harry murmured quietly.
Hermione frowned at the thought of traveling out in the open but could not deny Harry's reasoning. "Alright," she sighed, "Let's pack up and Apparate after nightfall.".
Harry and Hermione apparated into Godric's Hallow shortly after dark. The snow was falling lightly while lights and icicles twinkled all around. Hermione briefly wondered how a place with such a dark history could be so lovely. Hermione secured the soft wool scarf knitted by Molly Weasley around her neck and surveyed the area for prying eyes. The soft sounds of gentle Christmas carols floated out from the small brick church on the corner.
Harry stiffened next to Hermione and she followed his line of sight. The graveyard. The graves of James and Lily Potter lay only a couple feet away. Harry pulled away and begin searching the faded gravestones while Hermione hung back, giving Harry private space to grieve. Out of the corner of Hermione's eye, a familiar shape lay just to her left. Kneeling down, she gently brushed off the snow of the ancient marker. "It's the symbol again.", she muttered quietly. The gravestone named "Ignous Peverell" as the owner of this mysterious symbol. A symbol that had eluded Hermione through all her studies of ancient runes.
"Harry?", she gently called. "Harry, I've found the symbol again.", she whispered softly as she came to Harry's side. He nodded in acknowledgement, still lost in his thoughts. Hermione looped her arm with Harry's, offering a small amount of solace while the church bell rang out signaling midnight. It was so peaceful that Hermione felt for just a moment that there was no war. Just the hushed rustle of fallen snow and subtle scent of Christmas trees.
A shuffling movement turned Hermione's attention to the far end of the graveyard. The outline of an older woman wrapped in a shawl stood motionless and watching Harry and Hermione. Hermione tugged on Harry's arm in alarm.
"Someone is watching us.", she whispered urgently.
Harry slowly turned his head to observe the figure. "I think that's Bathilda Bagshot. She knew Dumbledore. Maybe she can help us.", he insisted. Hermione knew something was wrong, but she could not say what. Something about the way this woman moved felt predatory. Like a snake waiting in the grass. Harry's insistence on following the outline of Bathilda Bagshot into a dilapidated and sagging house proved to be a dreadful decision.
Harry and Hermione apparated back into a stark landscape of dark trees and hard ice. Harry looked around wildly and shouted, "It was Nagini! It was a trap!".
Hermione, still struggling for breath from the void of Apparition, collapsed to the ground clutching her wand as tears began to streak down her face. That horrid snake had disguised itself with the corpse of Bathilda Bagshot and nearly lured them to their death. Hermione wanted to scour herself. She could still smell the mold and metallic tang of blood. Harry shook Hermione.
"She was the SNAKE, Hermione!", he repeated in shock. Hermione's eyes shot up to Harry's own.
"Yes, but we survived and now we need to get some protectio-" The quick snap of a twig cut off Hermione's statement and both Harry and Hermione whirled around to the source of the noise. A figure emerged and began walking towards them.
"RON!" Harry bellowed. Harry dropped his wand and barreled towards Ronald Weasley's tall form. Hermione felt her initial rage at Ron's abandonment return in full force and she stalked towards Ron with the intent to smack him like she did Draco Malfoy in third year.
"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY," Hermione seethed, "You better have an absolutely exceptional reason coming back here after abandoning us!" Her chocolate-colored hair sparking silver and gold with magical rage. Ron threw up his hands in surrender while flushing a brilliant red.
"I destroyed the locket." Ron said quickly while shuffling his feet in the snow. Hermione stiffened and blinked in response. Harry stopped his forward assault on Ron and stared at him as if Ron had just sprouted a head full of antlers. It was only then that Hermione noticed the long glint of metal behind Ron's tall form.
"Tent. NOW." Hermione ordered, sharply pointing to the entrance of their shelter. Both Ron and Harry, wise enough to know not to antagonize Hermione during one of her hair-sparking (or bird-summoning Oppugno) moods, obeyed. Once seated at the table, Hermione looked pointedly at Ron in a non-verbal order to start talking or be hexed into oblivion. Ron sighed and began recounting his journey.
"You mean to tell me that the Sword of Gryffindor just appeared in some frozen pond that you found because a glowing blue light from Dumbledore's Deluminator told you to!?" Hermione shouted. "Then you proceeded to steal the locket from the tent because YOU FIGURED IT WOULDN"T HURT TO TRY!?".
Ron flinched at the volume of Hermione's voice and the magical sparking in her wild curls were threatening to set fire to the tent. Harry sat by quietly while gently holding his broken holly wand with a wide-eyed forlorn look that suggested he had not even processed Ron's words. There was a long silence that filled the air as Hermione huffed through this revelation.
"Mione," Harry finally spoke, "Despite Ron's unorthodox methods, we are down a horcrux. Don't you understand that we are one step closer to destroying him? Now we know that the Sword of Gryffindor has the ability to destroy them." He concluded. Although Hermione certainly did not agree with how Ron had handled the whole situation, she begrudgingly did agree with the point Harry had made.
"Do you forgive me, Mione?", Ron asked, a sheepish look on his face. Hermione huffed again, reined in her temper, and finally gave a small smile.
"You are forgiven, BUT I am still incredibly cross with you."
Then in typical Hermione logic, she was already on to the next topic.
"Ron, while you were gone, we discovered a symbol that appears as if Dumbledore wanted us to find it. Do you recognize it?" Ron shrugged and when he started to reply, Hermione abruptly cut him off.
"Ronald, I swear to Circe, if you say Dumbledore was doodling, I will use Ginny's Bogey-Bat hex on you!"
Ron swiveled his head to Harry, who had averted his eyes to avoid participation in this particular discussion. Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry's evasive expression when suddenly, Harry smacked the wooden surface of the table with a loud THUNK.
"I know where I've seen it before! I was so wrapped up in the horcrux and being back in Godric's Hallow, that I completely missed it. I saw that symbol on a necklace worn by Xenophilius Lovegood at Bill and Fleur's wedding!".
Harry rapidly spoke as if he might lose the words if he did not get them out quick enough. Both Ron and Hermione were both startled into silence by this revelation. Hermione knew that Xenophilius was one of the last openly defiant supporters of Harry Potter and Dumbledore and maybe, he might be able to provide something that could lead the Trio to the location of another horcrux. Or maybe even some shelter and safety beyond a charm surrounded tent in the Forest of Dean with two cranky and sleep-deprived boys.
"Hermione?" Harry gently squeezed her shoulder, "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Now it was Hermione's turn to be excited by the possibilities.
"We should find Xenophilius and see if he can help us. We don't have any other options right now." She said rapidly, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Harry nodded and turned to Ron. "Get some rest, we leave tomorrow morning."
AHHHH! I did the thing. I submitted my first chapter of Metanoia. Roughly 12 chapters are planned but that will probably change. I will try to update as consistently as possible (full-time job and way too many hobbies). I hope y'all enjoyed it and I would absolutely adore reviews 3
- delphicpigeon