"The brightest flame casts the darkest shadow."
- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings

Chapter 2

Harry sat on a high metal chair in his lab in front of a computer screen. His green eyes swept over the contents of the webpage with wonder as he read about Hermione Jane Granger, Oxford's latest history of science fellow. The brief profile on the webpage described her impressive academic career (undergraduate at Cambridge, Masters at Oxford, PhD at Harvard, and finally fellowship back at Oxford) and the book titles she had penned on the history of science. A smiling headshot was included with her profile and Harry couldn't help but take note of every single one of her features. She was beautiful and smart and Harry felt so drawn towards her.

The opening door of the lab took his attention from the screen to see Doctors Luna Lovegood and Noah Winchester enter. The tall and willowy form of Luna smiled and walked in his direction, bending down to kiss his cheek in greeting. Her eyes drifted to the computer screen and she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in question.

"Who is she?" Her voice the sound of chiming bells asked.

Harry turned around and faced Luna and Noah. Noah had also caught sight of the screen and looked at Harry expectantly.

"She found the book," Harry said plainly, his words filled with emphasis.

Noah's brows creased in confusion as he walked across the room to get a better look at the computer screen. His form bent over the table and his hazel eyes scanned the page. "Doctor Hermione Jane Granger… she found your book?" Noah asked in disbelief. Harry simply nodded his head in silence.

"But how are you certain, Harry?" Luna asked. "You've been searching for the Chymical Wedding for centuries. It's been missing for just as long. How can this girl just find it?"

"She's not just a girl," Harry said, his voice turning hoarse. "She is a witch," Noah and Luna gasped and their eyes immediately swivelled to the brunette. "And she's a Granger. The resemblance is uncanny."

"You mean… Sebastian Granger and Eleanor Lancaster?" Noah asked, his thick brown eyebrows creasing with wonder and recognition as he gazed at the picture. Harry nodded, his lips in a tight line. Noah whistled, apparently impressed. "That's some bloodline."

"She's brilliant," Harry said, his eyes unmoving from the picture of Hermione. "And I think she had something to do with that phenomenon earlier today as well."

"Harry, what are you saying?" Luna asked worriedly, her silvery grey eyes quickly travelling from Harry's face to the face of the strange witch on the computer screen. "Was what happened witchcraft?"

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "I'm not a hundred percent certain what has happened and what is happening. All I know is that she was able to draw the book from the shadows when many have tried to find it for years. I need to know how she did it. I need to get my hands on that book."

"Harry," Noah began with apprehension. "Be careful. Once others find out about this, Oxford will be filled to the brim with creatures."

Emeralds turned to diamonds as his eyes hardened at the idea.

"I know."

Lavender looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed her dress. Her right hand gripped her wand before she hid it in the pocket of her purse. Her mind was reeling with what happened at the Bodleian that afternoon. Hermione Granger, the most reluctant witch she knew, had somehow called up a powerful and enchanted book from the stacks. Lavender wondered if she should keep this to herself, but knew that she couldn't even if she wanted to. Witches couldn't lie to other witches, and if the other witches in the Oxford coven asked how she was doing during their Mabon feast, she would have a hard time hiding what transpired earlier that day.

With a sigh, Lavender turned her attention from the mirror and steadied her breathing. It was time to face the coven.

Hermione paced back and forth in her bedroom as she recounted the events that had occurred that morning. She had returned to her rooms after she left the Bodleian and locked herself inside. Her mind tried to scientifically and logically explain what happened but she knew it would be impossible. Magic was what happened and she had no explanation for that.

Biting her bottom lip, Hermione grabbed her phone and dialled a memorized set of numbers. The line only rang once before her call was received and the familiar, soothing voice of her Aunt Olivia came on the line.

"Hermione!" Olivia said from the other side in greeting. "Richard, dear, pick up the other line! Hermione's on the phone!" Hermione couldn't stop a little laugh from escaping her lips as she heard rustling on the other side.

The voice of her uncle soon greeted her ears. "Hermione, darling, we've missed you!" Richard said.

"Auntie Liv, Uncle Rich, I've missed you too," Hermione said honestly. Olivia Granger and Richard White were the two closest people in her life and they filled the role of her dead parents. They raised her and took her in when she was nine and supported her in her academic endeavours since they, too, were professors.

Olivia immediately sensed something was off from the sound of her niece's voice. "Hermione, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

Her question was met with silence as Hermione debated how to tell them what occurred that afternoon.

After a minute, Hermione began. "I was at the Bodleian studying when I found a magical book."

"You found a magical book? What do you mean?" Olivia asked, her voice turning shrill.

"I requested for it and it was pulled from the stacks and given to me. It didn't seem magical at first until I started reviewing it and saw words moving across the pages..." Hermione said and bit her lip again. Her unoccupied hand came to rub her temple as she felt the beginnings of a headache setting in.

"Was it a spell book? A potion book? Did you try to understand it? Did you see how it was magical? Where is the book Hermione? Do you still have it with you?" Olivia fired the questions in one breath.

"Of course I don't have it anymore, Liv," Hermione answered exasperatedly. "I returned it."

"You returned it?!" This time Olivia did yell and Hermione was forced to move the phone away from her ear to keep her eardrums intact. "Hermione! You know how important it is to at least try and understand any magical thing you come across!"

"Olivia, honey, calm down," Richard's voice said on the line. "Hermione, what was in the book?"

Hermione chewed at her bottom lip and hesitated telling her uncle what she saw. For some reason, she wanted to keep the contents of the book safe. "I only saw two pages, Uncle Rich," she started. "And they were just alchemical drawings. There was nothing special to them," she said, though she didn't really believe her own words. The drawings of the golden king and the silver queen were unlike any she had seen before.

"You need to get that book back and understand it, Hermione," Olivia said sternly. "It's about time that you stop hiding from your magic. This book came to be in your possession for a reason and it was foolish that you returned it! You. Are. A. Witch!"

Hermione was used to her aunt's nagging about her magical heritage. After all, she was a Granger and Olivia was an extremely proud witch. It would be hard not to given the Granger last name. She lived and breathed and thrived in magic. Their oldest known ancestor was Benedict Sebastian Granger. The blessed one. It was he whom Hermione's father was named after and he was considered to be one of the most powerful wizards of their time. He was said to have been as powerful, if not more powerful, than Albus Dumbledore and Grindelwald themselves. Benedict mastered the arts of wandless magic and occlumency and every Granger that came after him were gifted in magic.

Everyone but Hermione, of course.

She could remember the whispers when she was younger. Her parents tried to shield her from it all when they were still alive, and her aunt and uncle took up the mantle after they died. But still, some of the words reached her young ears and have left invisible marks which had only turned to scars as she grew up.

When she was a toddler, the witches and wizards of Brighton would whisper in anticipation. "Granger and Lancaster… too much power… far too much power… she's going to do great things, this girl..." They said. The Granger bloodline was remarkable, yes, but the Lancaster name should not be discounted. Hermione's mother, Eleanor Lancaster, was an experienced potionmaster and seer. Any potion from the truth serum to liquid luck, regardless of complexity, was easily brewed by Eleanor. She also had an uncanny ability to correctly predict the future.

But as Hermione grew up, people expected more from her powers and young Hermione just did not deliver. When other children would be magicing sweets to levitate into their awaiting hands, to the mixed horror and delight of their parents, Hermione could not. Sure, magical children were known to have unrefined magical abilities before studying at Hogwarts or any of the other wizarding schools. However, they were still able to do some magic before they were of age to go to school. For the first five years of her life, little Hermione showed no signs of magical abilities that Olivia feared she was a squib. She was six and going to a Muggle pre-school when a schoolyard bully picked on her for her curly brown hair and a missing front tooth. That evening, after crying about it to her parents, she woke up in bed in the middle of the night with her hair blonde and straight and the gap in her teeth gone.

And then her magic was dormant again until her seventh birthday. And after that, no magic until almost eight months later. She was nine when she performed another bout of magic, but then not three months after it her parents were dead.

The whispers grew louder when she chose not to go to Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or Durmstrang despite receiving an admittance from all of them. Her parents had gone to and met at Hogwarts, and she lived in Britain, so her letter from there was expected. But the other schools wanted a Granger alumni and so they threw in their gauntlet. When she refused all three offers and chose to continue her studies in a Muggle school instead, the Brighton coven was almost aghast and offended. How could a Granger turn her back on magic?

"Pity… such wasted potential…" The whispers said.

She was so glad to have left Brighton for university. It gave her autonomy, shielded her from the failed expectations, harsh whispers, and sympathetic glances back home. No one cared that she was a Granger at Oxford. They knew her name because of the hard work she had put into her career. Her family heritage was like an anchor she had cut from the line and left at the bottom of the sea.

"I'm a historian, Olivia," Hermione answered, exasperated. "I'm a scholar, a doctor, and I might just become a professor here at Oxford too. Dean Chester said she wanted to add me to their shortlist for review."

"That's absolutely wonderful, Hermione!" Richard exclaimed, pride emanating from his voice.

Olivia let out a loud sigh on the line. "Alright, fine, I get it. We'll talk about the book later but we will talk about it," she said grudgingly. "Congratulations, love, we're very proud of you," she continued, her voice sounding softer.

Hermione smiled across the line at the small victory of steering the conversation. "Thank you, although there is so much more I have to do to prepare…"

Hermione spent the next half hour chatting with her aunt and uncle about her work and they regalled her with stories about Brighton and their own work at the university there. It was only when Olivia realized the time and that she and Richard have to leave for the Brighton coven's Mabon feast that they parted with promises of more calls in the near future. Hermione hung up the phone with her heart full.

But as Hermione gazed at the full harvest moon through her opened window, her mind couldn't help but think about the book. She couldn't help but wonder what secrets that mysterious and powerful volume held. She knew she shouldn't have returned it so hastily. She knew she should have at least tried to find out more about the words flitting through the pages. After all, hindsight was 20/20. But she was so stunned by what happened that she acted defensively and tried to distance herself from the magic as much as possible which was what she had been doing for years.

Hermione drifted off to an uneasy slumber with thoughts of silver and gold swimming in her head.

Lavender sat inside Rachel Thornton's home office as the coven leader bid the last of the Oxford witches and wizards goodbye. The feast of the autumn equinox, or Mabon as it was more commonly called, was a success and Lavender was glad to have seen so many of her friends that night. Like she expected to happen, Rachel clued in on the fact that something was nagging at Lavender and had asked for the younger witch to stay behind after the feast so they could talk. Secrets were few and far in between witches.

The door opened and Rachel entered the room. She was an older woman with dark black hair and a kind face. She walked across the room and sat on the couch next to Lavender.

"I know something has been bothering you, Lavender," Rachel said, and held Lavender's hands in her own. "You know that you can tell me anything." She urged. Lavender bit her lip and nodded her head. "Now, what has happened?"

Lavender exhaled and began her tale.

The moon was still bright as he made his way through the dark streets of Oxford. There was hardly anyone outside as he walked through the stone pathways, staying in the shadows as much as possible. He walked east and soon found himself in front of a gate leading into a college quadrangle. The porter was inside his stone station watching a rerun of the football game on the telly.

He looked around the street and saw no one outside. He bent his knees and with ease jumped over the gate. His feet hardly made a sound as he landed on the other side in a crouch. A glance back at the porter showed that the man was still intently watching his game and was oblivious to what happened. With a billow of his long black coat, he walked further inside the college.

Harry followed the familiar scent of vanilla and honeysuckle until it took him outside a second floor window perched on a red brick wall crawling with ivy. He listened for any sounds inside and was content when he heard the steady breathing of deep slumber. When he was certain no one was outside to see him, Harry leaped into the opened window and entered her rooms.

He landed in her modest living room. The door leading to the hall was to his right and his sharp eyes saw a couch, a large bookshelf, and a desk pushed against the wall inside the room through the darkness. There wasn't a TV in sight and Harry smiled instead at the pile of books stacked high on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Harry immediately began searching. He walked to the bookshelf and read over each title quickly, his eyesight perfectly sharp despite the darkness. He commended her silently for sorting her books alphabetically by subject and author. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he moved on to her desk and then to the pile of books on the table.

The Chymical Wedding was not anywhere in her living room.

He glanced across the room and into the opened bedroom where he could see a form on the bed. Harry crept towards the door silently until he caught sight of Hermione Jane Granger laying in bed and half covered by her blanket. It looked as if she was dreaming because her head was moving from side to side and her breathing was turning uneven. Harry watched her for a moment and studied her; the vampire transfixed by the shadowy contours of her sleeping face. He didn't know how long he stood there for, until the witch in bed started glowing. His vampire eyes widened as a light so faint emitted from her pores and enveloped her sleeping form.

Her breathing grew laboriously and Harry knew that it was the telltale sign of a nightmare creeping in. His steps brought him next to her bed and he looked down at the sleeping witch. Her lips were parted and he could see her eyes moving underneath her closed eyelids. A small whimper escaped her lips and Harry's hand instinctively inched towards her, his fingertips encasing in warmth as they touched her glow. Gently he brushed at a lock of hair against her face and traced her gleaming cheek with soft fingers. Hermione's head tilted towards his gestures and her breathing calmed, her form relaxing against his hand. The nightmare was dispelled. Soon the glow around her body dissipated and the room was dark again.

Harry removed his hand from her skin and stared at the witch. She kept surprising him. Common witches and wizards simply do not glow. In his whole life, he had only heard tales of extremely powerful wizards emitting this luminescence. It happened when they have so much power that their bodies physically couldn't contain all the magic; almost like a cup overflowing with wine. He had so many questions in his head and not enough answers. There were only two things he was certain. First, Hermione Jane Granger was a powerful witch. Second, the Chymical Wedding wasn't there. Did she hide it someplace else? Did she return it to the stacks?

Since his purpose for being in her rooms that night was over, Harry turned to leave. But before he walked out of her bedroom, he grasped the edges of the blanket that were half strewn across her body and completely covered her with it. After one last look at the sleeping witch, Harry walked out of the bedroom, leapt through her opened window, and disappeared into the darkness.