Chapter Two

"I can't believe you would agree to this," Harry ground out as he raked his hands through his hair. He was sitting barefoot on her couch when she came home. She hadn't been surprised to see him waiting up for her like a worried mother fretting over his wayward child. He'd jumped up and began pacing across the rug her parents once owned as she relayed her story in an excitable rush.

While telling the story, Harry's frustration and worry smoothed into a tight smile. The fear and excitement produced an animation in Hermione that he could not remember seeing in her since their childhood. He'd missed the bouncing little girl who was always so eager to jump into adventure if it meant protecting someone she deemed innocent. Most people thought she only fretted all those years when she was helping hum out of one scrape or another. He knew different. When he looked into her eyes he could see her pupils dilate and contract rapidly. She had that same look now. The look of reckless vitality and inquisitive determination. Harry couldn't take that from her now.

He allowed her to finish her story. Then, he pulled her hand and seated them both on her small couch. They sat quietly for a second as the day's events sat in the air between them like a shining light. The weight of what Hermione had done settled all around them in a great heap. She began to feel an unknowable fright. The small box felt light (too light- as though it would disintegrate without giving her a passing farewell) in her pocket. She wondered if this whole thing was a gigantic ruse to create trust between herself and the pureblood witches. Without reason, she scrambled in her pocket for the box and was relieved when she was able to feel the smooth texture between her fingers.

"How will you get the Unspeakeables to take a look at it? I don't remember you all being on the best of terms?" Harry finally asked.

Hermione reddened and bit her lip. Her exit from that department was rather abrupt and she knew she'd caused a small fire on the gossip circuits. As Witch Weekly had said, in a rare moment of insight, the only reason she was allowed to leave without impunity was because of her status as a war hero. There were some small luxuries afforded to being Harry Potter's best friend. The world was ready to make plenty of excuses for such a person .

"I may be able to reach out to Saul Croaker. I don't think I"ve completely broken bridges with him." her voice wobbled as she spoke. Harry looked doubtful. She felt like a lone piece of ice that had been exiled from its mass and was sailing alone in a barren sea.

"Could I see it" he asked tentatively. She nodded. She was grateful to share her new burden with a friend. She opened the box and his mouth opened slightly. They stared at the necklace for a moment before staring at each other. She knew he felt it too. That deep pressure that caused her to pant.

"I don't like this," Harry said as he reached towards the box to close it. As his fingers got close, he suddenly jerked back and cried out. He waved his hand as though hurt before cradling it in his lap. She snapped the box closed and let it fall to the ground without care. She called his name and pulled his hand into hers in order to examine it.

Angry welts appeared on his fingertips and palm as if he'd slapped his hand on a burning stovetop. She quickly murmured a healing spell as he bit the inside of his cheek. The healing spell seemed to lessen the swelling and his pain but not as much as it should have. Perplexed, she ran to her aloe plant (a vestige from her muggle days with her grandparents who always kept them in the kitchen) and hastily snapped off a branch and squeezed its contents onto Harry's hand cautiously. He smiled his thanks through pained cheeks.

"I'm okay Hermione." She did not completely let out the sigh she was holding. His hand was still an angry sore and she noticed that the skin was beginning to blister. The smell of burned flesh was acid corroding her heart. The fragile jewel piece was only in her possession for a few hours and it was already burning things down.

"It is not your fault" he said defiantly before she became too melancholic. She rolled her eyes at his quiet bravery and pulled him into a hug. He awkwardly held her back and was careful not to let his hand touch anything. They let go of their embrace and pulled their attention back to the upturned object lying underneath her coffee table. Without saying a word, they both backed away from the pig heart hued velvet box in a subtle retreat. After a few minutes of hopeless shuffling around bits of news and accumulated gossip, Harry burst out laughing and Hermione followed. One small item wasn't enough to hold those two back for long. With a determined chuckle, Hermione reached under the table, grabbed it then placed it firmly above her fireplace. It stared down at the two of them with the presence of an unopposed despot addressing the pitiful remains of a rebel group.

"Is it possible for an inanimate object to give the impression of undeserved self-importance? Perhaps sentience is more liberally applied in the wizarding world?"

"While I'm not entirely sure what sentience means, if you're asking if it feels like at any moment that thing could burst out saying 'Just wait until my father hears of this', then one thousand percent." Hermione sniggered before admonishing him for tittering on about the recently deceased. He stuck his tongue out at her in reply. She called him a cheeky child while he transfigured a pointy hat, placed it on her head and then proceeded to call her Headmistress McGranger for the duration of the evening. She decided it was time to kick him out when he got into her reserve stash of Ogden's Finest, floo called Ron to introduce him to the "newest professor at Hogwarts" which only proceed to make Ron cry laughing so merrily that even George came running to the call to see what the fuss was about before they all had a merry go at her until she threatened to tell Molly about what actually happened to her antique vase over winter hols.


Hermione wanted to escort Harry home after his burn injury and his liquor sloshed stomach but he refused. He knew that Ginny would worry if she saw Hermione and he did not want Ginny asking questions that he couldn't answer tonight. The alcohol flavored fever dream would turn into a nightmare if she found out that he was not only bladdered out of his mind but severely burned as well. He glamoured his injury despite the growing scowl Hermione sported. He grinned sheepishly and reminded her that it was the price for his reluctant acceptance of this whole scheme. He had agreed to let Hermione keep the necklace on her mantel and to defer any and all official investigations about the object until she'd reached out to Saul.

With one final death grip hug, she released him into the floo. After he'd gone, she pretended to ignore the ominous box in her living room by having some warm milk. She busied herself in the kitchen while stealing furtive glances at the box perched high above her fireplace. She let out a frustrated groan and abandoned the milk project to the sink.

She brushed past her living quarters and into her bedroom, disturbing her finicky cat from his resting place on her quilt. She hastily pulled off her clothes and left them in a huff next to her bed. She crawled under her sheets and pulled them up to her chin like a child. She had no idea what that necklace was capable of and it scared her into curiosity.

She awoke damp and sticky as if she'd been exercising in her sleep. She felt dull and uncomfortable in her own skin, but she knew her fingers and toes were restless to begin researching. She always felt this way when a new challenge came across her desk. She couldn't wait to get started. She considered feigning sick to get out of going to the bookshop but she knew that the manager had been scrambling for more workers and had come to depend on her. She reasoned that going to see Saul at the Ministry might be too indelicate anyway. She'd rather not churn the rumor mill unnecessarily.

She practically ran through the door at the end of her shift. Her coworkers hadn't seen her move so quickly in ages and she heard them whispering that she must finally be seeing someone. She blushed at the thought as she ran toward the train station. Her lack of suitors was none of their affair she thought as her face reddened. Dating was something that made her feel cold all over. She imagined sloppy first kisses, too pungent cologne and itchy, new sweaters bumping into tweed jumpers with a curl of her lip. She could not imagine taking a new man now.

However the irony of her current situation wasn't lost her. She was dashing home to her amulet like a waiting lover. Her body hadn't felt this alive in ages. Perhaps her coworkers were right to gossip.

Before leaving for work, she'd sent word to Saul. She begged the universe for a response and felt light footed when she saw an acceptance to her proposal waiting for her at home. They would meet at a small coffee shop just far away from the Ministry buildings that they wouldn't be spotted by Ministry workers haunting the yuppie bars after work.

She dressed hurriedly and apparated near the coffee shop. Prior to leaving, she'd placed the box back in her robes and again had been startled by its lightness. The box was made out of heavy wood and cloth padding but she barely registered its weight. She quickly located her destination and saw that it was sparingly dotted with patrons. Most of them appeared to be students scribbling essays over espressos and let out a breath. She swung open the shop door with all the grace of a small bear and she cringed at her own lack of refinement. She saw Saul sitting at a table far from the entrance and he was hailing her over. She smiled a bit and headed his way.

She sat across from him after ordering a tea and biscuits from the waitress. He looked wary but intrigued. They exchanged pleasant greetings but the underlying awkwardness could not be satiated. She began speaking first.

"I am so happy you agreed to come," she looked down at her biscuit and continued. "I wouldn't normally reach out but I have a situation."

"I must say I was intrigued more than anything. After you left, I did not expect you to call me up," his voice was like snow- cold yet melting easily.

"I'd hoped it was you coming to mend fences with the department, perhaps even come back to us. However, I can see that is not the case."

"No, it is a favor for-" Hermione stopped short. She wasn't sure how to describe her relationship with the Malfoys and finally settled on "... a business associate of mine."

"Oh, please continue," he said, raising an eyebrow as he blew on his steaming latte.

"I'd like to discuss a mysterious artifact that has come into my possession…" she began.

After explaining the situation with as much detail as she could without giving away any sensitive information about how she came to be in possession of such a strange piece of magic, she stopped. Saul was looking at her with a combination of curiosity and apprehension. She hoped his curiosity would win out.

"If the amulet burned Harry as you say and gives you both strange sensations when it is exposed, perhaps we should take caution with our discussion. Perhaps we could study the item in a private location." Saul jerked his head around the cafe. Hermione did not notice anyone studying them but she never knew who was really listening to their conversations. Journalists could be wonderful undercover operatives.

"My flat is near here. We could study it there," Saul offered. Hermione had not been in a man's home alone in quite some time. She attempted to find a good reason to deny the request but saw the practicality in it. She did not want photos of her with the amulet all over the newspapers. She agreed and reluctantly followed him home.


Once in his small apartment, Hermione noticed the smells of old bananas and smoky leather. She swept her eyes around the room to find that there was indeed an old style leather chair sitting below an angled lamp. The entire perimeter of the small living space was stacked high with various books, manuscripts, tomes, ink pots and quills. There was even a small desk with several candle stumps littering its surface like a dead forest of chopped down trees with only the stumps to serve as reminders of what once was.

She also saw an unbelievable amount of overfilled ashtrays and long, thin cigars haphazardly placed about the room. She even guessed that she may have spotted a few student essays carelessly stacked atop his breakfast counter and she remembered he taught a few classes at the university every now and again.

"Such is the life of a scholar" he said jovially in way of welcome as he saw her take in his flat. He beckoned her over to the small dining space crammed thoughtlessly between a teetering tower of old books and the messy breakfast nook. She felt at home at once and realized this messy compilation of a life was just the sort she could get used to.

They seated themselves at the table carefully as to not disturb the resting books swaying gently behind them. Hermione continued to stare blissfully at his small librarian's home before realizing he was staring at her expectantly. She blushed and stammered out a gleeful half apology.

He grinned proudly in response and gestured for to get on with the show and tell. Blushing again as she realized was probably encroaching on his studies, she yanked the box from her pocket and cracked it open. Again, the swirling mass greeted her mischievously. She glanced over at Saul and discovered his face alight like a child's.

"Astounding," he exclaimed after a moment of intense study. He looked eager to finger the object but steadied his hand and Hermione was proud of his patience. He abruptly stood from the table and swept over to his writing desk to retrieve some parchment and quill. He began calmly and meticulously drawing a life like replica of the object.

"You are a skilled artist," Hermione commented quietly. She was feeling more and more impressed by her former colleague and wished she'd really seen him while they were working together. A tendril of something soft and warm was strumming at her heartstrings.

He seemed taken aback by the compliment but recovered quickly. "Yes, I have made it a sort of pursuit since childhood." She again was struck at his lack of feigned humility or over boastfulness. He recognized his own skill without being a braggart. Hermione found him beautifully balance and coloured slightly at the thought.

When the 3D drawing was complete, he wrote down all of the particulars about the item that Hermione knew including its ability to scorch Harry's hand. When he got to the burning effect, he put down the quill and looked at the amulet with open interest. "Miss Granger, I'd like to attempt to reach for the object as Mr. Potter did yesterday. I have a hypothesis that I'd like to test." Hermione bit her lip fearfully. He gave her a reassuring nod.

"Yes, I am also concerned. If you could be at the ready to assist me should I get burned?"

Hermione agreed and pulled out her wand. He blew out a calm breath and made a confident reach towards the box before his hand shot backwards in pain. He did not scream and in fact looked as if he'd expected such a response. Hermione quickly cast a strong healing spell on his hand that seemed to be more effective than the one from last night. He calmly went into his washroom to bandage his hand.

Hermione began to apologize as he re-emerged but was silenced with a brilliant smile. "Yes, this is a very curious artifact that you've acquired. I can only make an untested guess, but if I had to say, I think this object is charmed to ward off strange parties."

Hermione too began to feel this way. "I won't ask about the acquaintance that gave you such a powerful item, but I remember you saying they've had various professionals checking out the device and I find that doubtful. I can't imagine that many people could go near such a thing!'

Hermione felt flushed with humiliation. Of course, Narcissa and Daphne weren't being truthful. She couldn't believe she'd trusted them even slightly. If they would lie about that, what else would they lie about? If she'd taken the amulet into the ministry would it have turned into a fiery bomb or other such object of destruction? She expressed this opinion to Saul who shook his head.

"No, I don't believe it was created for mass destruction. I have never come in contact with an amulet like this but I have witnessed the protection spell that covers it. Have you ever heard of an Indrik?" Hermione shook her head.

"Indriks are very distant Romanian cousins to unicorns and their ilk. Indriks possess their own magical capabilities but little is known about the creatures except their affinity for creating objects imbued with concentrated power and energy. It is said that like fae folk, one can bargain with an indrik to receive one of the blessed vessels but that is pure conjecture. I would imagine if someone were to come in possession of such a vessel, they would go to any means to protect it from greedy fingers and thus put it under a heavy protection spell." He said this last part with a hearty laugh that made Hermione laugh deeply too.

"You said that you had experienced a protection spell like this one before?"

His easy smile became slightly cold. "I cannot tell you much about that without going into Unspeakable territory."

She grimaced at his change in tone.

"If you were to come back, I'd be happy to share my notes with you," Saul said more warmly. At this she looked down at her fingers.

"You haven't lost our support, " he said kindly, "The department does not hold you to account. You'd be welcomed back to us; I know it."

Hermione had to admit that she'd missed these exchanges and discoveries with her colleagues. She had rarely been surrounded by fellow academics just as invested in the quest for knowledge as herself. While she loved the bookshops, the smell of a dusty manuscripts and the feel of aged paper between her fingers was indescribable.

"I will think about it."

"Please do."

"Will you be able to take this amulet to the department," she asked hopefully.

"The object is fascinating but I cannot promise. We are in the midst of a large project that is taking up the majority of our people power and resources. I will inquire but it may be several days before I can get you answers."

Hermione felt slightly defeated but appreciative of his honesty. "If I were you, I'd look into what protection spell or spells are cloaking the charm. Take care to remember that the protection spell may also protect you from the necklace."

"What do you mean?"

"We have no idea if the amulet's protection spells are keeping others away or keeping whatever powers the bead holds from getting out or both. I'd also wonder why you seem to have no problem being close to the necklace," He mused softly.


Hermione sat on her bed with box laying flat on her upturned palm. Her eyes would not close for sleep. She kept picturing the hopeful faces of the purebloods and fiery storms raged in her mind. She wondered what sort of agreement she had actually accepted that day. She wondered how such a rare vessel ended up on a dead man's neck. She wondered how Draco Malfoy had really died. The odd way Daphne referred to his death made her wonder. Was it the amulet? Had he been burned alive in an attempt to wear it?

She flicked open the box and stared at the amulet through bleary, bed-ready eyes. The heavy pressure enveloped her again and she realized that she had never attempted to touch the object herself. Perhaps she wasn't immune and it would burn her too. Maybe touching the box was not enough for her to set off the protection spell. She recalled that Narcissa had never touched the necklace either- only the box.

Clenching her teeth and stealing her resolve she gingerly reached for the choker- not the swirling bead (just in case). The air surrounding the necklace was dense and thick; it was as if her fingers were cutting through water. She pushed through the resistance and picked up the necklace by the clasp. She held it cautiously between her thumb and index fingers like a dirty tissue. She did not let the bead touch her skin. In the moonlight of her dark bedroom, the amulet became even more mesmerizing. The swirling substance locked inside became more ferocious and thrashed about inside the bead like a raging wave.

She longed to touch the bead, wondering if it was hot or cold, smooth or rough. She could not resist. She gently stroked the charm and began feeling a pulling sensation deep inside her chest.

Startled, she attempted to pull her finger away but found that the pulling sensation turned into a deep jerk. She pulled back again but felt something yanking her back like a furious lover. Whatever force was pulling at her began grasping her fingers then her whole hand and soon her entire arm. Her arm was contorting to fit into the tiny necklace bead like mozzarella stretching between a pizza slice and the rest of the pie. She looked down in wordless screams as she felt her entire body being sucked inside the eye of the amulet in much the same way as her hand.

She felt like a convicted man being ripped apart by four horses running in separate directions with each one of his limbs attached to each horse's leg. The cruciatus curse could not match the pain. A crazed Bella could not stand up to this brief moment of intense splintering. All at once, she smelled a change in the air. The gentle homey aromas of home were replaced with humid dankness. She felt all of her appendages snap back together like puzzle pieces. Before she could take in the moment, the startling darkness overtook her.