Puissant: Having great power or influence
Hermione is sure she's been cursed.
She can feel its heaviness in between her shoulder blades, an unwelcome weight amongst the invisible scars of her mind, a constant pressure that will not be eased.
The worse thing is the damn thing just keeps appearing in the most impossible places, and won't be destroyed. She's been wondering if it's a sentient being, as sometimes objects imbued with magic develop their own quirky – read annoying – personality.
It started on a normal boring Tuesday. Nothing good ever begins on a Tuesday.
As a rule of thumb Hermione never reads unmarked mail or mail without a return address. It reminds her of the abusive letters she used to receive during her fourth year, courtesy of Rita Skeeter's indecent articles.
This one is no different, and the burgundy envelope that appeared on top of her to-do list ends up in the pile of confidential information to be shredded. The rest of her day proceeds as usual, and not one more thought is wasted on the burgundy envelope.
On Wednesday morning it appeared rolled in the Daily Prophet.
On Thursday it was in her underwear drawer.
On Friday it appeared in her yellow mug just before she poured some coffee in. Not a great way to start a Friday, or any other day. Hermione sighs loudly and pinches her nose bridge, before grabbing her wand and murmuring an angry Finite Incantatem. Nothing happens, and the burgundy envelope shimmers in the artificial light of the canteen. Her eyes are reduced to slits, and her breathing gets louder.
The intern queuing behind her for the coffee disappears quickly: an angry Hermione Granger is a dangerous Hermione Granger.
"It's mocking me! It's mocking me! How dare you, you evil little -"
"Hey Hermione, is everything okay?" Anne Cochran's sweet voice interrupts her furious monologue, and another frustrated sighs escapes her.
"Good morning Anne. This thing keeps tormenting me. I had Sage shred it on Tuesday, and it just keeps appearing everywhere. I think I've been cursed."
Anne eyes the envelope inside the mug and giggles a nervous laugh. "Maybe you should bring it down to the second level for the Aurors to have a look at."
Hermione feels very dumb now, an unusual emotion for the brightest witch of her age, and even more so for the Head of the Department of Misinformation.
"Will do, thank you Anne."
Anne smiles softly and adds a splash of milk to the tea she just brewed. "You're welcome, Hermione. Do let me know if you find out more information about that." She says, indicating the malicious envelope with her head.
Hermione mumbles a goodbye in her direction, and heads towards Harry's office.
"You did what?" Harry is laughing in her face, literally holding his belly from the laughs.
Hermione presses her lips together and stares at him. "I shredded it, repeatedly. And this is not a laughing matter, Harry!" The chair drags on the floor when she stands to leave, almost late for her own meeting - Not true, I am never late.
"Oh, you're being serious then?" Her face is enough to stop him laughing. "You really don't know what this is?"
She lingers in the doorway, her jaw clenched and nose twitching.
"I don't, and I have no interest whatsoever in finding out. Please keep it, or destroy it, or lock it away. Do what you must, but keep it away from me." And with that, she storms back to the fourth level and her own office.
Saturday is just perfect.
Her coffee is delicious, the sun is shining in the sky, and most importantly, there is no envelope ruining her dayIt's not rolled in the Daily Prophet, nor hidden in her underwear drawer, nor in her mug. She's certain, she's checked thrice.
Everything is just so perfect -
Until it's not.
"In my right shoe, Ginny!" She's had a couple glasses of Pinot Grigio, and it's not helped. No amount of alcohol can.
Ginny's eyes are glinting with repressed laughter. Harry is looking at an interesting spot in the corner while washing the dishes. "Don't you think that maybe you should just, oh, I don't know, open it?"
"You know how I feel about unmarked letters, and the fact that it keeps harassing me only makes me surer of my commitment." Then it hits her. "You -"
She fills her glass once more. "You both know what this is, don't you?"
Ginny looks surreptitiously at Harry, who has been washing the same casserole dish for the past fifteen minutes, too busy listening in the conversation while pretending not to.
"Ah, Gin, don't look at me." The casserole dish finally gets rinsed, and a frying pan gets attacked with the same level of dedication.
"Hermione, please, just open it. I promise it will be worth it."
"Ginny, what is this? Do you know who sent it?"
Ginny sighs, Hermione is a dog who's found a bone, a very tasty bone...
Hermione sits at the table. Back straight. Wand in hand. Envelope ready to be assaulted with magic. The spiteful thing doesn't react to any of her spells, nor to her counter curses, and just shimmers in scorn.
If magic doesn't work, she reasons, it will have to be done the muggle way. The scissors cut easily through the malevolent envelope and its venomous contents. The offending cuttings are gathered and vanished.
A large smile on her face.
Finally...
The tension just keeps accumulating. Her neck is stiff, her back aches, and now she can't even sleep properly any more. Dreams – no, not dreams, nightmares – are impeding her rest. Vague memories of things that once were.
A hand on her lower back...
Long fingers brushing her hair...
Soft lips teasing her earlobe...
Her heart is racing, her lower belly knotted, and her – No. No. Not allowed to think of that. Not allowed to think of him. Not now, after ten years. No, just – No.
On Sunday, she finds it in her cutlery drawer while grabbing a knife to peel a mango.
On Monday, it's in a pocket of the robe she's just picked up from the dry cleaners.
On Tuesday, it's in her wallet, grabbed instead of money while trying to pay for her and Harry's lunch.
On Wednesday, it's among the flowers she's picked up on her way home from work.
On Thursday, she gives up and finally open the offending missive. Let the record show that Hermione Granger's will only took nine days to be broken.
Hermione Jean Granger,
L' Énigme cordially invites you to our
Third Anniversary Celebration
Friday the 4th of May
Two Thousand and Seven
Lose yourself in the enigma,
Find yourself in the mirage.
L'Énigme,
169 Horizont Alley,
London
To confirm attendance, please touch your wand to your name.