Essence of an Emerald
(Author's Note: This is a silly story.)
Hermione Granger raced into the meeting room of the Department of Research and Development. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized to the staff breathlessly. "There was a traffic factor and then an elevator factor and..." She shrugged nervously. "Anyway, Good Morning." She patted down her hair a little bit. At twenty-eight years old, she was the youngest Director of Research in the British Ministry's history—and the only woman.
It took a lot to maintain the image of the astute and brilliant young woman who received the job after a brief internship.
After getting past the initial awkwardness of reporting to a supervisor younger than their own children, Hermione's staff quickly developed a strong respect and admiration for the young witch. With her help, the Magical Use Committee had succeeded in isolating the most powerful elements in the Eyad Emerald, the most puzzling and mysterious magical relic of the age. They turned to her with that respect and listen to her speak about the week's projects. After she had finished, Hermione turned to her own office/laboratory and began to set up for further testing.
"Have you seen the Daily Prophet today, Ms. Granger?" asked Daryl Bernard, her personal assistant inquired. "Page 1—Right on the front. YOUNG DIRECTOR OF RESEARCH ISOLATES EYAD'S ELEMENTS."
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the tacky headline and unlocked her door. "Some writers never seem to get away from alliteration," she remarked dryly.
Daryl flipped through the paper. The first page of the Prophet was of the scientific and magical significance of this discovery. Further in was—"Hey!" exclaimed Daryl. "Ms. Granger, they did a whole biographical sketch on you."
Hermione looked up from her cup of coffee and the papers she had been rustling through. "I cannot imagine what they found to fill a whole page." She laughed. "I'm not like those other geniuses who spent fifty years doing this, another fifty in Bulgaria researching the effects of gillseed on dragons..."
"Interesting that you should mention that." Daryl held the paper up and began to read. "'I am very proud of Hermione,'" he read in an a strongly accented voice, "says her childhood sweetheart, Quidditch star Viktor Krum." He skimmed through the paper once more. "Then it goes on to mention your high school adventures, your parents tragic deaths..."
"We weren't 'childhood sweethearts', you know," she said after a few moments of clearly not paying attention to her assistant. "We went out a few times. I was fifteen." "And if their deaths were so "tragic", why did the Daily Prophet fail to report the attack on a muggle home?"
"Funny." Daryl read through the article again. "The rest of this article is all about your love life, social life and fashion favorite. Not a thing more about your scientific breakthrough."
That caught Hermione's attention. "What?" she exclaimed. "Let me see that. "Her eyes darkened as she read the name of the author. "Rita Skeeter."
Disgruntled, she set down both the paper and her wand. "Daryl, connect me to the Daily Prophet. I have words to exchange with this woman." Her eyes flashed angrily as she recalled Skeeter's promise at the end of her fourth year. Clearly, this article was a violation of that agreement.
Daryl began to protest, but Hermione hushed him up. Seconds later, the head of Rita Skeeter was in her fireplace.
Hermione was quite startled by the sudden appearance, but she was determined to maintain her tranquility. "Ms. Skeeter," Hermione began as she leaned back in her plush chair. "Pray tell me why you printed that filthy, demeaning article about me in the newspaper today."
Rita gave a merry laugh. "Oh Hermione dear," she exclaimed. "I simply couldn't resist. The girl you were, the woman you became. The quiet rebel with an actual cause in Hogwarts compared to the successful witch you became! The tragedy of becoming an orphan. Surely, Dear—you must see that I merely did the public a favor." Another laugh was inserted. "They were all dying to know about the clever, attractive young witch."
Hermione was not thus swayed by the compliment. "It doesn't matter how much they want to know about me. What matters is in the attempt to inform the public, you misled them!" Suddenly aware of her noisy shouting, she hushed her voice to a calm and collected tone. "You wrote lies about me and now I'm going to inform the Ministry that you are an Animagus."
"Do what you want, darling. I registered two years ago," soothed Rita. "I found new ways of getting the dirt on you celebrity types."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," hissed Hermione dangerously. "Never. Do. That. Again."
"Or what, you'll scold me?" said Rita sarcastically. "Hermione, my dear girl. This is what you don't understand. You are young."
"Yes," agreed Hermione coldly, reaching for her wand.
"You are talented. You are an attractive woman." Rita sent her a strong look. "Do you understand what I'm getting at?"
"My understanding of the situation is that you are going to leave before you annoy me anymore!" shouted Hermione, fed up with this shallow woman.
"My point Hermione is that no one of the average Wizarding world has not the slightest clue what the elements of the Eyad Emerald are. How they affect their life or the Wizarding future—"
"Well, that's just ridiculous," fumed Hermione. "The elements we isolated allow magic to be kept in a tangible form. It's practically a panacea for any difficulties in the future." She struggled to explain further, but Rita cut her off.
"It doesn't matter. Girl, the people don't CARE about the emerald. They care about you. They like what they see and they want more. And as a writer, I give people what they want."
Rita smiled beguilingly. "I'll be leaving now. I look forward to seeing you soon, Ms. Granger."
And with a poof, Rita Skeeter disappeared and Hermione was left alone in her office once more. She glanced towards the ancient Grandfather clock in her office. "Nearly nine thirty. Practically the whole morning gone." Sighing unhappily, she began to further unpack her instruments to further test the elements of the stone.
With her experiment set up a half hour later, Hermione opened her door and entered the hallway, planning to retrieve the stone.
"Ah, Ms. Granger!" exclaimed Daryl, pleased to see his supervisor. "These two gentlemen wish to talk to you about security."
Both were cloaked in long, dark robes and had the black, penetrating eyes of one who knew evil and could recognize it. Eyes of one who knew torture and malevolence the way a young child knows the face of their mother.
"Gentlemen," greeted Hermione stiffly, shaking their hands. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"Smithee. Department of Mysteries," answered the one on the left. "That's Drakes."
"An honor, Miss Granger," drawled the former. "We don't normally descend upon your department, but given the unusual circumstances—"
"Of your mysterious new subject," chimed in Smithee, "We'd like to offer our services. For protecting the gem."
Again, they turned those cold, unblinking eyes onto Hermione and she felt herself crumbling. "Well....err.... Sir, we really have to keep it here. For scientific purposes. I'm conducting some tests and trials about the extracts and it really can't leave. Plus...we do have excellent security here." She looked behind her at Daryl. "Right?"
"Of course, Ms. Granger," he affirmed. "The best."
The two men looked dismayed. "The Minister willed it that we take the stone back to our headquarters. Where it cannot leave."
"I seem to recall an earlier time when one of the Department of Mysteries prized artifacts was stolen in a fairly blunt operation," snapped Hermione, offended at the Minister's implication. "This stone is more important than any prophecy you have in there. How about you guard what you already have and let me take care of my own department!"
"I have a compromise," conceded Drakes. "You allow us to guard the actual stone and you continue to run tests on the elements you've extracted."
"Because I have not finished the extraction!" shouted Hermione. "And unless people stop bothering me, it will never get done! Now if you will excuse me, sir!" she snarled. She marched down the hall and opened the various safes and vaults before claiming her prize. By the time she had returned to her laboratory, the two men were gone.
"That was strange," commented Daryl as he approached her later in the workday. "They didn't make an appointment and didn't leave a card when they left." He shook his head. "I cannot remember such melancholy people in the Ministry since the Great War."
Hermione shrugged. "Some people haven't been able to get over the war." She looked up. "Look, the day's almost over. Why don't you tell everyone to clean up early? It's been a long day and tomorrow's going to be longer." She tapped the emerald. "Damn thing won't cooperate as much as I had hoped." She wrapped up the stone and handed it to her assistant. "Why don't you lock this back up and leave? I'll finish logging my findings, lock up the elements and do the same?"
Daryl shrugged. "Who can refuse an early dismissal? Good evening, Ms. Granger," he said cordially to the witch.
"Good evening," she responded. He left her office.
Three hours later found Hermione still working. Another "important discovery" had urged her to remain in the laboratory before she threw up her hands, declaring she needed her whole team to complete the task. Frustrated and tired, she wrapped up the vials she had been working with and locked them in her personal safe. "They probably need some kind of special refrigeration anyhow," she declared, justifying her laziness.
With that, Hermione left for her flat.
(A/N—Word to random ramblings and unplanned stories! I don't really know what this chapter was about, but the second one has a plot. Yes. I promise. I'm also a better writer than this story exhibits.)
(Author's Note: This is a silly story.)
Hermione Granger raced into the meeting room of the Department of Research and Development. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized to the staff breathlessly. "There was a traffic factor and then an elevator factor and..." She shrugged nervously. "Anyway, Good Morning." She patted down her hair a little bit. At twenty-eight years old, she was the youngest Director of Research in the British Ministry's history—and the only woman.
It took a lot to maintain the image of the astute and brilliant young woman who received the job after a brief internship.
After getting past the initial awkwardness of reporting to a supervisor younger than their own children, Hermione's staff quickly developed a strong respect and admiration for the young witch. With her help, the Magical Use Committee had succeeded in isolating the most powerful elements in the Eyad Emerald, the most puzzling and mysterious magical relic of the age. They turned to her with that respect and listen to her speak about the week's projects. After she had finished, Hermione turned to her own office/laboratory and began to set up for further testing.
"Have you seen the Daily Prophet today, Ms. Granger?" asked Daryl Bernard, her personal assistant inquired. "Page 1—Right on the front. YOUNG DIRECTOR OF RESEARCH ISOLATES EYAD'S ELEMENTS."
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the tacky headline and unlocked her door. "Some writers never seem to get away from alliteration," she remarked dryly.
Daryl flipped through the paper. The first page of the Prophet was of the scientific and magical significance of this discovery. Further in was—"Hey!" exclaimed Daryl. "Ms. Granger, they did a whole biographical sketch on you."
Hermione looked up from her cup of coffee and the papers she had been rustling through. "I cannot imagine what they found to fill a whole page." She laughed. "I'm not like those other geniuses who spent fifty years doing this, another fifty in Bulgaria researching the effects of gillseed on dragons..."
"Interesting that you should mention that." Daryl held the paper up and began to read. "'I am very proud of Hermione,'" he read in an a strongly accented voice, "says her childhood sweetheart, Quidditch star Viktor Krum." He skimmed through the paper once more. "Then it goes on to mention your high school adventures, your parents tragic deaths..."
"We weren't 'childhood sweethearts', you know," she said after a few moments of clearly not paying attention to her assistant. "We went out a few times. I was fifteen." "And if their deaths were so "tragic", why did the Daily Prophet fail to report the attack on a muggle home?"
"Funny." Daryl read through the article again. "The rest of this article is all about your love life, social life and fashion favorite. Not a thing more about your scientific breakthrough."
That caught Hermione's attention. "What?" she exclaimed. "Let me see that. "Her eyes darkened as she read the name of the author. "Rita Skeeter."
Disgruntled, she set down both the paper and her wand. "Daryl, connect me to the Daily Prophet. I have words to exchange with this woman." Her eyes flashed angrily as she recalled Skeeter's promise at the end of her fourth year. Clearly, this article was a violation of that agreement.
Daryl began to protest, but Hermione hushed him up. Seconds later, the head of Rita Skeeter was in her fireplace.
Hermione was quite startled by the sudden appearance, but she was determined to maintain her tranquility. "Ms. Skeeter," Hermione began as she leaned back in her plush chair. "Pray tell me why you printed that filthy, demeaning article about me in the newspaper today."
Rita gave a merry laugh. "Oh Hermione dear," she exclaimed. "I simply couldn't resist. The girl you were, the woman you became. The quiet rebel with an actual cause in Hogwarts compared to the successful witch you became! The tragedy of becoming an orphan. Surely, Dear—you must see that I merely did the public a favor." Another laugh was inserted. "They were all dying to know about the clever, attractive young witch."
Hermione was not thus swayed by the compliment. "It doesn't matter how much they want to know about me. What matters is in the attempt to inform the public, you misled them!" Suddenly aware of her noisy shouting, she hushed her voice to a calm and collected tone. "You wrote lies about me and now I'm going to inform the Ministry that you are an Animagus."
"Do what you want, darling. I registered two years ago," soothed Rita. "I found new ways of getting the dirt on you celebrity types."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," hissed Hermione dangerously. "Never. Do. That. Again."
"Or what, you'll scold me?" said Rita sarcastically. "Hermione, my dear girl. This is what you don't understand. You are young."
"Yes," agreed Hermione coldly, reaching for her wand.
"You are talented. You are an attractive woman." Rita sent her a strong look. "Do you understand what I'm getting at?"
"My understanding of the situation is that you are going to leave before you annoy me anymore!" shouted Hermione, fed up with this shallow woman.
"My point Hermione is that no one of the average Wizarding world has not the slightest clue what the elements of the Eyad Emerald are. How they affect their life or the Wizarding future—"
"Well, that's just ridiculous," fumed Hermione. "The elements we isolated allow magic to be kept in a tangible form. It's practically a panacea for any difficulties in the future." She struggled to explain further, but Rita cut her off.
"It doesn't matter. Girl, the people don't CARE about the emerald. They care about you. They like what they see and they want more. And as a writer, I give people what they want."
Rita smiled beguilingly. "I'll be leaving now. I look forward to seeing you soon, Ms. Granger."
And with a poof, Rita Skeeter disappeared and Hermione was left alone in her office once more. She glanced towards the ancient Grandfather clock in her office. "Nearly nine thirty. Practically the whole morning gone." Sighing unhappily, she began to further unpack her instruments to further test the elements of the stone.
With her experiment set up a half hour later, Hermione opened her door and entered the hallway, planning to retrieve the stone.
"Ah, Ms. Granger!" exclaimed Daryl, pleased to see his supervisor. "These two gentlemen wish to talk to you about security."
Both were cloaked in long, dark robes and had the black, penetrating eyes of one who knew evil and could recognize it. Eyes of one who knew torture and malevolence the way a young child knows the face of their mother.
"Gentlemen," greeted Hermione stiffly, shaking their hands. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"Smithee. Department of Mysteries," answered the one on the left. "That's Drakes."
"An honor, Miss Granger," drawled the former. "We don't normally descend upon your department, but given the unusual circumstances—"
"Of your mysterious new subject," chimed in Smithee, "We'd like to offer our services. For protecting the gem."
Again, they turned those cold, unblinking eyes onto Hermione and she felt herself crumbling. "Well....err.... Sir, we really have to keep it here. For scientific purposes. I'm conducting some tests and trials about the extracts and it really can't leave. Plus...we do have excellent security here." She looked behind her at Daryl. "Right?"
"Of course, Ms. Granger," he affirmed. "The best."
The two men looked dismayed. "The Minister willed it that we take the stone back to our headquarters. Where it cannot leave."
"I seem to recall an earlier time when one of the Department of Mysteries prized artifacts was stolen in a fairly blunt operation," snapped Hermione, offended at the Minister's implication. "This stone is more important than any prophecy you have in there. How about you guard what you already have and let me take care of my own department!"
"I have a compromise," conceded Drakes. "You allow us to guard the actual stone and you continue to run tests on the elements you've extracted."
"Because I have not finished the extraction!" shouted Hermione. "And unless people stop bothering me, it will never get done! Now if you will excuse me, sir!" she snarled. She marched down the hall and opened the various safes and vaults before claiming her prize. By the time she had returned to her laboratory, the two men were gone.
"That was strange," commented Daryl as he approached her later in the workday. "They didn't make an appointment and didn't leave a card when they left." He shook his head. "I cannot remember such melancholy people in the Ministry since the Great War."
Hermione shrugged. "Some people haven't been able to get over the war." She looked up. "Look, the day's almost over. Why don't you tell everyone to clean up early? It's been a long day and tomorrow's going to be longer." She tapped the emerald. "Damn thing won't cooperate as much as I had hoped." She wrapped up the stone and handed it to her assistant. "Why don't you lock this back up and leave? I'll finish logging my findings, lock up the elements and do the same?"
Daryl shrugged. "Who can refuse an early dismissal? Good evening, Ms. Granger," he said cordially to the witch.
"Good evening," she responded. He left her office.
Three hours later found Hermione still working. Another "important discovery" had urged her to remain in the laboratory before she threw up her hands, declaring she needed her whole team to complete the task. Frustrated and tired, she wrapped up the vials she had been working with and locked them in her personal safe. "They probably need some kind of special refrigeration anyhow," she declared, justifying her laziness.
With that, Hermione left for her flat.
(A/N—Word to random ramblings and unplanned stories! I don't really know what this chapter was about, but the second one has a plot. Yes. I promise. I'm also a better writer than this story exhibits.)