.
So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Luna, and the Weasleys at a much younger age and even though Voldemort died early, she has formed the Cathesis League to fight corruption, elevate justice, and ultimately seek cooperation between Muggles and Magical societies. But there are urgent needs to infiltrate Hogwarts in the summer of 1989. Now read on...
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Chapter 23
Searching For Answers
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Lessons To Be Learned
Even immaterially, Hermione knew she would not simply be able to pass through the Hogwarts magical wards without alerting someone – if at all. She stood solidly now with Harry below Honeydukes' shop and began the long walk through the tunnel to the school.
After they'd been walking for many minutes, Hermione began to contemplate their arrival. "I wish you might have first seen the castle shining across the lake," she sighed, "all lit up and reflecting in the dark water – instead of trudging up a gloomy passage to see the dullest hallways."
Harry saw the yearning in the eyes of his companion and knew she spoke mostly for herself.
Hermione continued, "There'll be no children and few staff. We'll have to avoid Dumbledore at all costs and possibly McGonagall, though she might not be there until later in the summer. Trelawney lives in but rarely comes out of her rooms. It'll just be ghosts for company."
"We'll see the castle how you said one day, Hermione, you and me." Harry held her hand as if for guidance, but the young girl was comforted by it.
She lit a wall torch to add a little cheer to her wand light, then they continued on their way.
"Let's go over my instructions one more time before we get there then."
Harry sighed and began to recite in a singsong voice, "Stay close together except when I'm searching Filch's office."
"And what are you searching for?"
"My dad's map but it's just a blank piece of parchment and there'll be lots of other blank parchments." Harry skirted a damp patch in the earthen floor of the tunnel and glanced back at how far they'd come. "I still don't see why you can't summon it, Hermione. You can summon anything."
"Because I can only summon what it is, and at the moment it really must be just a blank piece of parchment, not a map at all – I can't believe even Filch would have simply filed away such an awesome, powerful map if he could see what it was. No, it'll be blank, and if I try to summon it then we'll be buried in parchments all over the office – much of it torn to shreds from being ripped out of cabinet drawers. The mess and damage will take some clearing up and we won't know exactly where everything was. Plus, we still won't know which one will turn into the map without searching through them all."
Harry groaned as they turned a bend in the tunnel only to see another extensive length ahead of them. "How much further, my legs are falling off."
"Long enough for you to finish going over your instructions, Harry. Meanwhile, hang on to your legs, Harry, you'll need them."
With a sniff, Harry tried to recall what he'd been saying. "Oh, yes, the parchment will be folded four ways and very worn and dirty with the folds sharply creased and the edges ragged. Most blank parchments are either scrolls – rolled or flattened – or neat, clean pages. But not all. " Harry had chanted – mimicking Hermione's most bossy voice – the last few words.
"Cheeky. I don't sound like that at all."
"So why'd you think it was you I was 'personating?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Go on."
"Harry – I mean the real Harry from the future – didn't–"
"Harry, you are the real Harry," cut in Hermione, pausing to swap her lit wand from one raised hand to the other.
"Right, I never told you exactly where it was – the other unreal Harry, I mean." He giggled.
"Harry, this is serious."
Harry pulled a face and rolled his eyes with such a severely mournful expression that Hermione laughed despite herself. "I don't look like that either."
"So how'd you know it was meant to be you?" Harry grinned cheekily. "Now, where was I?"
"We don't know exactly where the map might be so we'll have to wing it when we get there. What else?"
"If I find a suitable parchment, I test it by tapping it with your wand and say, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
"And...?"
"I keep my Galleon handy. Any sound of anyone nearby, I duck and hide, press your wand to my coin and think of whoever or whatever it is."
"No. First you...?"
"Oh yeah, first quietly close any open drawer or cupboard so everything looks normal."
"And I'll be there in seconds so don't panic."
"Panic? Captain Potter spits on panic ten times a day afore eight bells toll."
Hermione sighed, wondering if Harry really yet was old enough to appreciate the difference between real life dangers and pirate fantasies.
"Harry," began Hermione very softly, "breaking into Hogwarts is an extremely serious matter. If you're caught then I don't know what would happen because it would be at the Headmaster's discretion. You might be barred from attending Hogwarts and you'd not see your friends again very often if at all. Furthermore, you might be compelled to reveal secrets – probably this route into Hogwarts. That would severely limit my activities. Was I wrong to bring you?"
A sense of shame descended through Harry's constricting throat, his chest, then settled in the pit of his stomach. He almost wished Hermione had become angry with him; the simple disappointment of his dearest friend was hard to bear. "Sorry, H'mione," he said meekly.
She nodded. "You'll be alright. Your bravery is not in question. But there are lessons to be learned and I don't want them to be too hard for you."
They walked along in silence. In less than twenty more paces, Harry had straightened his shoulders more resolutely and firmed up his expression. Hermione smiled and nodded to herself.
After a few more twists and turns the passage's earthen floor slowly gave way to stone and they found themselves ascending a chute. Loose dirt made it difficult not to slip back but as it became too steep for any soil to cling, they made better headway. At the top, the couple found themselves squeezed together inside a small, shaped space and, as instructed, Harry tapped the back with the wand. It opened outwards.
"Up you go, Harry, then help me out."
At last they were truly within Hogwarts – standing beside the statue of the humpbacked witch out from which they had just climbed. Hermione closed the hump and they proceeded very cautiously along the corridor.
"This is the third floor," whispered Hermione. "We need the ground floor at the front for starters."
Silently, they descended down to the Entrance Hall without seeing or hearing any sound other than the flicker and crackle of wall torches – and, Hermione observed, there seemed to be fewer of those lit than normal. She led Harry into the smelly blackness of Filch's windowless office and cast the tiniest glimmer-light over the filing cabinets.
"All these!" whispered Harry aghast at how many there were.
"No, not all – ignore the ones on the right which are to do with stores and equipment and so on. These four on the left are the ones you should concentrate on. Yes, it's a big job which might take a couple of days – that's why I couldn't spare the time. Start with either Confiscations or Temporary Confiscations then Found Unclaimed but leave Confiscated and Highly Dangerous alone because I wouldn't trust anything in there and you might get hurt. Anyway, the map isn't dangerous – it's just blank parchment."
Harry pulled out the top drawer of Confiscations and blew out a long breath of displeasure. "There's millions crammed in! Notes and leaflets and scraps of paper."
"Probably crib sheets and exam cheats most of them, but work through carefully, Harry, and try not to get sidetracked."
Harry nodded.
"And keep one ear open so you can hide if..." Hermione looked around. "It's hard to see where you can hide in here if Dumbledore or McGonagall hears you..."
"I'll pull this cupboard door open," said Harry, brightly. "Ugh!"
It was immediately clear where the odour had been coming from.
"It's full of confiscated snacks and sweets and other consumables. Whatever you do, don't touch any of it, Harry! It's probably tainted, hexed, cursed, who knows what," said Hermione. Memories of Nosebleed Nougat and Puking Pastilles came back to her – but not fondly.
"I know, but I can hide behind the open door – look." There was space between the door and the wall for Harry to crouch.
Hermione shook her head doubtfully.
Harry said, "It wasn't locked. How's M'Gonall to know if the cupboard was already open or not, so..."
"You're right. I doubt she'd look behind there. Anyway, I'll answer your Galleon alert and get you out." She took another look around. "So... you'll be alright? I'll be elsewhere in the castle, snooping for stuff less than half a minute away, and I'll pop in from time to time as well."
"Okay."
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Harry's Exciting Little Adventure
The work began. It was thrilling being a trespasser in an ancient castle searching for lost treasure. Harry was the white knight who'd swam the moat and up through a shark infested tunnel into the villain's lair to rescue a fair maiden– No!"
He set his jawline more firmly. He wouldn't disappoint Hermione again. This was for real, a true adventure, and he had actual treasure to dig up.
His firm jaw sagged somewhat when he tried to prise his little fingers between the hundreds of parchments tightly packed together in the first drawer. There were dividers and card subdividers which helped, and once he'd winkled out the first folderful without ripping anything, the rest were a lot simpler to ease out.
Some of the documents drew his interest – lists of astonishing spell definitions and potion recipes, most in tiny writing to fit up someone's sleeve – and he had to force himself to keep searching. Occasionally he'd find a blank parchment and even if it were an unlikely candidate for Hermione's description, he'd touch it with the wand and swear very solemnly he was up to no good. But after an hour his attention lagged and he realised what a dreary chore he'd agreed to. He couldn't help but wonder what Hermione was doing.
I bet she's doing the really exciting stuff fighting hags and trolls while... He paused. Had he heard a faint sound outside? Somehow he wasn't quite ready yet to duel a real troll so he tried to cram his current pack of sheets back into the drawer, failed, panicked, then quietly elbowed shut the drawer, and, with the wad of parchments still in his arms, crouched behind the cupboard door, heart beating nineteen to the dozen, and fingers fumbling for his Galleon. At the last second, he remembered to turn off the wand light and was immediately immersed in total blackness.
A faint voice echoed from some far off corridor, "Rather dull around here without the children, don't you think, Sir Nicholas?"
"My dear Friar, I completely agree..."
Harry never heard the rest of the reply because the speaker's voice faded further and further away. He sighed with relief. Still, he'd done jolly well in the emergency, he told himself, not dropped anything or made a clatter, and, well, it had been like one of his practice sessions. Hermione would have been impressed. He lit the faintest wand glow possible and went back to work, but still thinking of his best friend...
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First Few Drops
Hermione had made good progress since leaving Harry. Within fifteen minutes, she'd descended into the dungeons; 'borrowed indefinitely' the potions book that had belonged to the 'Half-blood Prince'; searched for and stolen some rare ingredients from the potions store, including Acromantula and Lobalug venom; and confirmed that Severus Snape was indeed employed here in his expected post, because his scribbled hand had been on most of the labels.
She shuddered – and not just at the cold wetness that was seeping out of a rusted pipe and trickling underfoot across the floor of the main dungeon passage – for in her head she could hear his voice again, What is the meaning of this intrusion, Miss Granger? She tried instead to imagine him far away, sunbathing on a hot Riviera beach – still with long black robes and greasy hair – sipping pink champagne and scowling at any holidaymaker who came within range.
Hermione suppressed a snigger and checked her logbook. The library was next on her list. She'd be able to use a summoning charm to some extent but mostly it would be a long hard search – or rather, two searches. She hurried upstairs.
"Accio Horcrux books," she whispered once she was in the Restricted Section. Hermione wasn't surprised when nothing so much as fluttered at her summons. Dumbledore had removed all the books in her previous life too, but she'd never been sure of when he'd done it exactly. Had it been when he was researching the subject himself after recognising what Riddle's diary had been? Or perhaps earlier?
She underlined the Plan B entry in her log to search the Headmaster's office at the first opportunity. That would be difficult with Dumbledore still resident through the holidays but she might have to look there anyway to find out anything about his refusing the Lovegoods a parental visit. If Pandora's death had been the cause of Luna not attending Beauxbatons then saving Pandora might reverse that. More information was crucial.
She pushed the logbook back into her bag and rolled up her sleeves. Now the real work would begin and she had no expectations of her next summoning charm either.
"Accio déjà vu books."
Nothing. Unsurprised that there were no books devoted to that subject, she resigned herself to searching through related topics manually.
Almost two hours passed swiftly without any useful results. The common opinion among the few wizards who'd heard of the expression was that déjà vu was a Muggle term for brief accidental foreknowledge similar to the rare insights that young magical children experienced during emotional upheavals. Most dismissed it as imaginary, and the only believers were those rare wizards who considered that a few Muggles might possibly have traces of uncontrolled magic. The hunt had not yielded the flood of understanding she'd hoped for, but at least she'd discovered a sprinkle of information to start the flow.
After putting back the final book she'd found, Hermione headed off to check Harry. It had been too long to leave him alone and she was annoyed with herself for doing so.
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A Hard Day at the Office
"Any luck, Harry?" Hermione said after carefully reentering Filch's office.
Harry blew air. "No, and I'm not even halfway down this cabinet."
"Sorry, Harry, but adventuring's not all about fighting pirates." She ruffled her fingers through his hair.
"Yeah, I guess..." He looked up as he completed his latest folder. "What are you searching for, Hermione?"
"Well, one thing is..."
"What?"
"Luna told me that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let her and her mother visit Hogwarts – you know, to compare it with Beauxbatons. I wanted to find out why. Don't tell her I said this but maybe Mrs Lovegood would be more eager for Luna to come here if I found a way for her to visit."
Interest piqued, Harry said, "It's not fair! We have to stop her going to Beauxbatons!"
"No, Harry, if that's what Luna and her mum want, then it's their choice not ours to make. Besides, I don't think Luna was too happy in her early years here during my other life, I mean. She didn't have any friends except Ginny far off in Gryffindor and some of the other Ravenclaws were unkind to her "
Harry's eyes flared and he raised a fist. "I'll fight them if they hurt Luna!"
"Maybe I will too now I know better," said Hermione. "I'm certainly not going to stand idly by."
"We'll fight them together!"
Hermione grinned at her friend. "Probably we'll need to think of something more subtle like stinging hexes on her stuff – they used to take her things, can you believe it? Come on, let's have lunch."
They ate sandwiches together in the Room of Requirement – reshaped to how Hermione remembered it housing the D.A. before the Great Battle – then resumed their searching. Both were mentally weary by the time they returned after an unsuccessful afternoon each, and ate dinner in relative silence. She tucked him in bed about seven-forty, cast a Patronus to inform her mother they were both safe and well, then sat up thinking for a long while into the night.
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The Oracle
The next morning was almost over before Hermione had any success at all. She'd taken a break to do some light reading about the Parcae – the Fates who where the only link between her two lives. There were indications that her situation, while exceedingly rare, was not unique. A translation written in the margins of an ancient Greek codex caught her special attention:
Chronos took me thence to my youth
and I beheld the Moirai no more.
Yet oft did I slip back moments by
their influence in lament and will.
- Phemonoe
Hermione read and re-read sections of the excerpt, ...oft didst I slip back moments... until her head was spinning. ...slip back moments... ...slip back moments... Was this what had happened to herself? Were her déjà vu experiences not false memories nor even foresight but actually slipping back and reliving those moments again? Had Farrimond truly flown off twice to seek Aculus?
Resting her forehead in her uplifted hands, she struggled to piece the evidence together. I was consumed by regret after sending away Farrimond – because he might have died. Did the emotion itself provide a second chance to change my mind? She recalled her lament at giving away to Sirius her knowledge of Bellatrix being married to Lestrange, which no explanation could reasonably excuse without suspicion. Yes! I had a second chance then, outside the ice cream parlour! It enabled me to cover up my mistake!
Eagerly she opened her eyes to peruse the document before her once again. Who was Phemonoe? Was she not the first priestess of the temple at Delphi? The Oracle Of Delphi!
In the silent library, Hermione leapt to her feet and almost danced with excitement. That's how Phemonoe predicted the future – she'd lived it before, just like me!
Her finger ran over the small excerpt, devouring every word, milking it for every tiny drop of information. That 'Moirai' was the Greek word for the Fates, she already knew. Everything was so clear! Phemonoe had met with them and she had returned to her childhood - crediting it in her belief to the god of time: Chronos!
One further word demanded an explanation: 'will'. ... in lament and will. Was it feasible to slip back moments in time by an act of will? Could she control it?
For several minutes Hermione struggled to will herself back a few minutes to when she'd discovered the document but to no avail. She tried again, forcing herself to feel the same regret she'd experienced when sending Farrimond away. Nothing happened. Clearly it could not be faked. Somehow it was all connected. Her encounter with the Fates was filled with a lifetime of bitter remorse and an immense will to help Harry. Yes, together with her death, that had carried her back a complete lifetime. Her last breath, which had somehow wafted Tom Riddle's dark thread to his early death, had been fortuitous but incidental. In the same way, might she now be able to will herself back a few moments whenever she truly regretted her actions?
But why her? There was nothing particularly special about herself. Phemonoe was said to be the offspring of a deity while she herself was merely the daughter of a dentist.
She smiled to herself, and the stress of her arduous searching faded away. An idea had occurred to her – an idea she'd wondered about at the end of her previous life. Had she been the very last magical person left alive? It was possible. Most wizards had perished with the Muggles and the few remaining had been hunted down and killed – a true witch hunt by a frantic remnant of humankind. Had all Earth's remaining magic resided solely within herself and funnelled back with her? The responsibility was terrifying.
"Enough!" she murmured.
Carefully, she closed the delicate codex and took it back to the shelves. It had been a tough morning. She went off to join Harry for lunch.
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Hidden Feelings
"I was halfway down the second cabinet, Hermione, are you sure it's there? How did Fred and George find it?" Harry took a bite of his turkey sandwich and watched his friend as he munched.
"It has to be there. It must have been confiscated when both your fathers were at school and it was still there when Fred and George found it in their first year – which starts in a couple of months' time so we'd best find it before they do!"
Harry groaned through a mouthful of turkey. "I'll look like a parchment before I'm done. Can't we swap? I'll do what you're doing?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the bunk upon which she was sitting. "Perhaps a change is as good as a rest. Yes. Okay, You need to go to McGonagall's office and search through twenty filing cabinets and a thousand years of letters, messages, and memos, for anything from the Lovegoods – but there's no guarantee anything will be there at all. Oh yes, and McGonagall will probably be lurking about, possibly even transfigured as a cat. Meanwhile, I'll look for the map."
For a few moments Harry stared, then he realised Hermione was quite serious. "On second thoughts," he said, "I owe it to both my fathers to rescue their map and I'm bound to find it soon."
Hermione hadn't been exaggerating. McGonagall really was in her office when Hermione floated cautiously, invisibly, and immaterially inside. The room and the professor were just as she remembered them, and for several seconds, Hermione fought with her own emotions. The professor had been there for Hermione through thick and thin, but Hermione had not been present to support McGonagall during her lone, valiant stand in Hogsmeade: protecting Muggle-born students against an attack by dark wizards – to the death.
An invisible teardrop was left floating near the wall as the young girl drifted over to the long row of filing cabinets and forced herself to examine the neatly-written labels on the drawers. No body heat nor scent could give away her presence, so long as she didn't speak, she was undetectable. McGonagall continued working away at her desk, oblivious to Hermione's ghostly manoeuvres.
All the labels were organised as she remembered from her own time working at Hogwarts. She'd stood-in often enough for both the deputy headmaster of the time – Flitwick – and for the headmistress, McGonagall, when they'd had other business to attend to away from the school. But even after she'd located the cabinet with the most recent communications, she dare not open the drawer nor try a summoning charm for fear of being noticed.
There was one particular advantage in being a very small child: she squeezed herself into the tiny space beyond the cabinets – where, in her former life, the side wall had been magically pushed back and new cabinets added. There, sitting on the carpet with her back to the wall, she dismissed her exhausting immateriality spell but remained invisible and alert – ready in case McGonagall came anywhere near. Then she waited. And waited.
During most of the next hour there was little sound except the rustle of paper or the scratching of McGonagall's quill. At three o'clock a tiny brass bird popped out from the mantel clock to toot the hour, and a tray of tea and ginger newts was promptly produced from somewhere. The woman stood at the open window while she dunked the biscuits and refreshed herself, as was her habit.
Hermione suppressed a groan. Five minutes. ... Almost ten. How much longer? A temptation arose to Confund McGonagall while Hermione carried out a quick search but the girl would never yield to such an outrageous notion. Use a nasty spell like that on her favourite teacher? Not likely. But another idea did rise to her thoughts, and Hermione almost giggled. Wandlessly she moved her hands in a delicate gathering action.
McGonagall sighed, put down her cup, and went into the toilet adjoining her office. Quick as she could, Hermione wriggled out and very, very slowly pulled open the drawer. Internally, the cabinet was magically extended and held enough paper to have started the Great Fire of London – probably had, going by the age and condition of some of the material. As the seconds ticked by she perused the top of them wondering if she dare try using magic to retrieve what she sought.
"Accio Lovegood letters," she whispered.
Nothing. Faintly outside, she heard the sound of a toilet flushing.
Hermione tried again. "Accio memos about the Lovegoods."
A single sheet tugged itself upwards and Hermione grasped it before it could fly up to her.
Running water: McGonagall was washing her hands.
Hermione Geminio'd the paper while it was still only half out of its position, pushed it back, and slid the drawer quietly shut just as McGonagall walked back into the room, pushing the door closed behind her with one heel.
Too late! Hermione had to let the visible copy fall from her hand to the floor. McGonagall frowned and raised her wand. With a flick the paper flew up onto the top of the cabinet.
"Draughty old castle," the teacher muttered to herself, and walked over to pour herself another cup of tea.
Reprieved for the moment, Hermione looked for another sheet of paper to substitute for the one she wanted – it wouldn't do for McGonagall to think anyone had been reading about the Lovegoods when she came to file it away. But there was nothing remotely similar in size to the memo – not that could be seen on any shelf or table anywhere.
A crunch told her McGonagall was eating another biscuit. They smelt fresh-baked and the delicious aroma was tantalising. I'll have to become immaterial again if my stomach begins to rumble!
Wordlessly, Hermione duplicated the duplicate, put the original duplicate into her invisible pocket where it disappeared, then squeezed back into her hiding place to try to think of a solution. It would not be easy to vanish the writing of the paper still out on top – at least not convincingly and blindly from where she was – and a blank memo might look odd. It would be easier to reword it but that would take minutes of careful work in full view.
Watchful not to crackle the paper in her pocket, she eased it out and examined its layout. It was a standard staff memo from Dumbledore with the usual header. Below, the message was brief. Perhaps she could reword this copy then swap them later!
Biting her lip, she tried to think of an innocuous substitute message. The original began Minerva – that needn't be changed.
Tell her politely, no – I'm sure you can make up some excuse. We know what Pandora's after up there and I think it best remain lost. I don't believe the Lovegoods are connected to the Floo network. Perhaps you'd better send her a nicely purring Patronus with my apologies rather than owl? Thank you, Minerva.
Hermione stared in astonishment. Vaguely she was aware of McGonagall crossing the room again. Was she going to put away the other paper now? Would she read it?
Silence.
Hermione peeked around the cabinet. The professor was back at her desk reaching for her quill. The brass bird tooted a quarter past the hour. A fly buzzed in the window. All was back to normal. It was hard not to sigh with relief when you really wanted to.
Her attention back on the memo, Hermione frowned, her thoughts divided for a few moments, then she decided to change the paper before giving further consideration to Dumbledore's meaning. A great deal of focus was needed but gradually she swirled the characters around, reshaped some, removed many, until she had a new, briefer message with no context but still the old date.
Thanks for your last. Good work.
Hopefully, McGonagall would simply glance at it and stuff it away – she had more important work to do.
Now Hermione need only swap the two papers and she could leave...
Why did it suddenly seem rather quiet? Hermione froze! The sound of McGonagall's quill had stopped. A swish of robes. Soft footsteps on carpet. A rustle of paper. Was she reading the memo? Hermione eased her invisible nose out to see...
"Got you!" cried McGonagall. Stunned, the housefly was hovered out of the window by the professor before it had a chance at the ginger newts.
While McGonagall was closing the window, Hermione switched the papers and fled back down to Harry.
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Fitting the Pieces Together
"There aren't so many 'Unclaimed', Hermione! I'm nearly down to three-quarters."
"But no map?"
Harry's face fell. He'd been thrilled by his progress but had almost forgotten his real purpose.
"Never mind, I found out something," said Hermione, handing him the memo.
She looked around the office. "Let's quit early today, I'm longing for a ginger newt and a cup of tea."
"What's it mean though?" said Harry, scrutinising the paper in his hand. "Thanks for your last?"
"Not sure yet – what?" She snatched the memo back. Damn! "It means, Harry, I got the wrong note. How, I don't know, but if Minerva – I mean Professor McGonagall – reads that other one then it could mean trouble."
Hermione grumbled softly to herself all the way up to the Room of Requirement. Harry kept his mouth shut. She plunked herself down on the edge of her bunk, summoned a table forward, then tea and biscuits appeared.
Harry grinned. "That's definitely one you'll have to teach me, Hermione."
She shook her head. "It's the same magic that puts food on the plates in the Great Hall from the kitchens – you'll see. It won't work for students directly though; teachers' privileges only."
"So you're still a professor?" Harry reached for a newt and crunched on it hard.
Hermione nodded. "Not on the physical records, but all my memories and my magic came back with me from my other life. The castle recognises my magic as that of a Hogwarts teacher. I suppose it would let me into the staff chambers without challenge. Maybe I'll remember one or two other perks. Once a Hogwarts professor, always a Hogwarts professor," said Hermione with her head high.
"A professor who fetches the wrong note," giggled Harry who had just discovered that ginger newts are far superior dunked than dry, and the tail makes a useful handle.
A slow head nod was Hermione's reply. "I copied the note and changed one of them but must have... no wait... Geminio is a bit peculiar sometimes. Maybe when I copied the copy then changed the original copy then the copied copy assumed the same form as the one it was copied from because that was changed magically, see?" – Harry gawped a horrible open mouthful of half-chewed biscuit – "But," continued Hermione, "it's like conjuring – they don't last anyway. I don't think she'll see the original wording – but neither will I now."
"Can you remember what was on the original?" Harry reached for a fifth biscuit while Hermione was distracted, trying to remember.
"No, not really." She put down her cup and lay back on the bunk bed. "Let me think for a bit."
Harry was happy to oblige, reached for another ginger newt, then lounged back on his own bunk adjacent to Hermione's.
"It was about Mrs Lovegood being after something on one of the upper floors – probably the Ravenclaw tower I should think, since that was her house. Maybe she'd left something behind when she was at school."
"Why didn't she just ask the Headmaster?"
"Mmm... well if she didn't want him to know what it was perhaps – though he seems to have guessed. Anyway, it's lost so that's that."
"A lost Ravenclaw tower shouldn't be hard to find."
"Not the tower, silly!" Hermione thought for a minute, an old memory nagging. "Say that again."
"I said, a lost Ravenclaw tower shouldn't be hard to find."
"My goodness!" Hermione sat upright, eyes blazing. "She's after the lost diadem of Ravenclaw!" She clutched one hand to her forehead. "Oh. My. God! It all makes sense! Xeno had been trying to make a working duplicate in my former life!" She looked at Harry who was considering an attempt to stretch for another biscuit. "It bestows wisdom you see!"
"Right," said Harry, wondering if he might persuade Hermione to lob him another biscuit to save him getting up.
She lay back, thinking some more, then, in a flash, all was clear. "I know it all now, I know it all. She's smart. Beauxbatons is a ruse. She must have told Dumbledore that so as to encourage him to let her and Luna visit Hogwarts as well – hoping he would not want to lose a student to the competition. Yes, she's clever. Probably really has arranged a visit to Beauxbatons in case Dumbledore checked with Madame Maxime.
"But why?"
Hermione rolled over on her side to face Harry and her eagerness was lit up by the flickering candle on the table. "Mrs Lovegood has been working hard to improve the teaching charm – you know, the one Madam Gawtley used to teach you to read? She said so, remember? Creating that kind of intelligent magic is notoriously difficult – rather like magical painting with which it is related and at which Mrs Lovegood is already rather splendidly gifted. But I'm guessing that guiding and instructing spells are vastly more difficult even than that – it's never been done before at such an advanced level, you see."
Hermione gasped and her eyes searched around vacantly for a new thought. "That's why she died."
"WHAT!" Harry leapt up, crumbs flying everywhere but biscuits utterly forgotten. "Not Luna's mum!"
Hermione sat up too now. "Sorry, Harry, you mustn't mention this to Luna."
"But her mum can't die, Hermione, she just can't."
"This is why she wants the diadem," murmured Hermione, still thinking it out. "And why she died before because she failed to find it. She needs its wisdom to help her complete the teaching spell. But she can never find it because it's not even hidden in the Room of – this room – no, it's still in Albania. Riddle never tried to get it from the Grey Lady because he never made any..." She stopped herself uttering the ugly word in front of Harry.
"Albania? Wha–?" Harry had long since lost track of any meaning in what she was saying.
"But Pandora tried to create the spell without that wisdom," continued Hermione, thinking aloud for Harry's sake, "and it turned on her magic the worst possible way. She died from it. She's driven, Harry. She knows it's foolish but she's driven by..."
And then the last piece of the jigsaw fell into place. "She's doing it all for Luna. That's why she couldn't stop herself trying, despite the enormous risk. Because of her love for Luna."
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
Ten points to Gryffindor if you spotted the clue Hermione missed and that might get Harry in trouble. Was it a bit OTT of Hermione (and me!) to 'risk' Harry (not quite 9 years old) on this mission to Hogwarts? My view is that Dumbledore wouldn't expel Harry for this relatively harmless escapade and Hermione hopes to introduce Harry gradually to the kind of difficulties he's likely to face in his life. :)
Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
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