~Chapter Thirty~ The Dark Grimoire
Hermione moved quickly through the shadows of Knockturn Alley. She had been down into the darkness of it before a few times on Ministry assignments, and had never yet had an encounter down there that she hadn't been able to handle. To be sure they had never been pleasant, but the purveyors and frequenters of the alley were less bold than they had once been.
The street slanted downwards, and was dangerous to traverse for a distracted mind. Built into the bricks of the path and down the centre lay a V-shaped gutter. The water that ran down into the alley off of Diagon Alley drained along it, trickling quietly. The bricks remained slick and mossy, and she had to watch her step.
The usual denizens of the alley watched her from dark shadows to either side, some melting away at the approach of a Ministry official, quickly packing up their wares and dashing for cover, others boldly sticking it out and attempting to look nonchalant, but Hermione was not interested in them.
Her memo had returned with the answer that Pilgrim and Sly's was a second-hand bookshop down Knockturn Alley. The coincidence of a bookshop being named in the grimoire was too much to pass up. She had never seen Dumbledore's handwriting before, but she would have bet her wand that the note had been written by him. It was not too far a leap to consider that he might have sought out the dark grimoire as well. In addition to that, what reading she had managed in the light grimoire had been very revealing, but it was like falling off a missing step. Every time she started to find her way towards something that might be useful in a cure, the part she needed to know would be something in the dark grimoire.
As much as the magic in each of the texts was the antithesis of that which was contained in its twin, it was clear that they had been written as companions and understanding of the magics within required the link between the two.
She checked the instructions she had been given as she came to a fork, taking the left and following it along straight for some time, ignoring the scuttling of the fleeing customers and shopkeepers as she approached. She kept an eye out on the wall to her right, and eventually was rewarded with an archway in the stone, quickly moving up the steps that led beneath it.
The alley beyond was narrower and darker still, with scraggling bones of a long dead creeper overhead, blocking out what little light managed to penetrate between the tall, closely packed buildings. The door to the bookshop was straight ahead, the shop's grimy windowpanes in the walls to either side, so covered with dirt and filth that it was impossible to tell whether there were lights on in the shop. A battered and lichenous sign hanging from the dented brass door handle proclaimed that the place was open however, and cautiously, she let herself in.
In some respects, Pilgrim & Sly's was no different to any other second-hand bookshop rammed into a higgledy-piggledy building. It was filled with the musty smell of old books and dust, but also of damp and mildew, which didn't bode well, and the whole place was filled with shadows from dim lanterns that were fixed to the walls.
The proprietor looked up as she entered, starting somewhat. He was balding and hunched up, his neck descending into his chest, liver spots on his hands and pate, his features receding into the wrinkles of his face. "What d'yer want? Ent done nuffink wrong."
"I'm just looking for a book." Hermione did her best to smile at him reassuringly.
Even so, he watched her with suspicion.
"Erm. Do you have a section on magic or history?"
"'s all over, innit."
"Ah. Right. OK, thank you."
He grunted.
Hermione quickly turned and made her way off into one of the two wings of the building, turning several corners just to put some distance and objects between her and the strange man. He would be curious enough about any Ministry official coming into his shop, let alone someone such as her, and it wouldn't do to have him following her around.
There she paused and took a few breaths of the stale air, figuring out a plan.
She had a few options. Dumbledore either suspected the dark grimoire to be in the bookshop, but for some reason hadn't looked or retrieved it, or he had left it there intentionally for reasons known only to himself. Either way, if it was still around, it seemed highly unlikely that someone as meticulous as her old headmaster would have left it to chance that it wouldn't be found or bought.
"OK," Hermione muttered. She pulled out her wand, carefully peering about to make sure she wasn't being watched or followed by the proprietor, and after completing a complicated little gesture, looked around.
The charm was meant to allow her to see anything magical. Most of the books, even those with spells in them, wouldn't show up to it. Only those that had spells on them, or which contained spells of a particularly powerful nature should be visible. She knew the aura she would be feeling for, based on what the light grimoire had felt like – it wouldn't be the same, but they would share a thread of commonality, and her charm ought to speed up the process.
Carefully, she set off down the shelves.
The bookshop, as with most tucked away bookshops, was far larger than it at first seemed from the outside. Hermione made her way systematically through the warren of shelves, clusters of books lighting up and registering to her eyes through the charm she had used. Some were innocuous, but most gave off deeply unpleasant emanations that she could feel even without the help of the charm.
Despite such moments, none showed up the way she was expecting for the dark grimoire, and even though she made sure to check every time, encountering some particularly nasty spells and potions, any one of the books being more than enough for her to arrest the shopkeeper for trafficking items of dark magic, her quarry eluded her. Still, she persisted.
What she hadn't noticed when she first arrived were the shrunken talking heads at the end of each row of shelves. They glowed with magic to her charmed eyes, and the first time one had spoken to her, she had jumped and almost screamed from the shock, which of course had resulted in gales of cackling laughter. They seemed to serve a dual function of security and living labels for the kinds of books their shelves were meant to contain, but it was next to impossible getting a straight answer out of any of them. Most made personal comments, or else shooed someone like her away, joking and laughing at her questions.
It took her a long time, winding up and down the aisles and ignoring the jibes of the talking heads. There were a few times when she missed a concealed hooked corner and had to backtrack and scan through yet another branch of the seemingly endless shop. The mildew and dust began to settle on her robes and in her hair, the musty, sour smell unpleasant, but she ignored it, continuing on, determined to scan every inch of the shop if that was what it took.
Eventually she completed the left wing, and quickly sidled past the objectionable shopkeeper at the front to access the right wing, her hopes flagging, but determination like iron. It was with some dismay that she found that the right wing was at least twice the size of the left.
She had been at it for nearly two hours, and was beginning to think that maybe the shop was enchanted with a series of Undetectable Extension charms to fox Ministry employees when something showed up differently.
Hermione paused, trying not to get her hopes up, and took as deep a breath as she was willing to risk of the fusty air. She opened her eyes, and glanced in the same direction again, reaching out her hand towards the shelves on her right.
It was like reaching towards an electric fence that was on. She could feel the static hum in the air as her hand passed over something, the vibration trilling through her fingernails and making her fingers twitch. There was a powerful enchantment nearby. It was unmistakable.
She quickly walked to the end of the row, swinging around and marching up the next aisle until she could feel the electric hum again, and then slowing so she didn't miss it. It brought her to a stop in front of a small table with rows of books along the top ledge, and some others left open on its slanted top. The charm she was using was no help here. All of the books were seething with magical traces, the glows competing and overlaid in a jumble that made it harder to see rather than clearer. It was like viewing a competitive Muggle street of Christmas displays, except without the jollity and cheer.
She cancelled the charm with a wave of her wand, and instead held out her hands over the tomes. She would know when she reached the one she was looking for. The books open on the table were certainly filled with a nasty assortment of spells, curses, and potions, but none were the grimoire. She passed her hands over them again, slowly, pausing over each book.
It wasn't there.
Hermione lifted her hand to run through the air in front of the spines of the books along the top ledge, eyes closed and concentrating on the sensation, the buzz building and building until it was so strong it was like microphone feedback in her ears, a loud, discordant hum that made her scrunch up her face, and her hand stopped with an abrupt jolt, unable to push any further through the air.
She opened her eyes.
Her hand was hovering, jammed still against whatever enchantment was there, her fingertips pointing directly at a space between two books. Hermione withdrew her hand, and the insistent whine dropped enough for her to think.
She frowned at the space. The dark grimoire had to be there. What spell would Dumbledore use to protect it?
She raised her wand, and tried the obvious.
"Finite Incatatem!" She whispered.
Nothing. Unsurprising.
"Revelio!"
The humming continued in the back of her mind.
"Aparecium!"
The sound didn't even falter.
She went through the full range of spells in her arsenal which might reveal a concealed object or else disarm an existing spell. Each one came to nothing, the buzzing hum ever present.
Hermione sighed, thinking. This was Dumbledore. He wasn't conventional by any means, and not only because he had been an extraordinarily powerful wizard. He had often had a humorous quirk to what he did, and unlike many wizards he knew the Muggle world. There could be no means safer of keeping an item secure from Dark wizards away than by using knowledge their own bigotry would prevent them from knowing.
A memory blossomed in the back of her mind.
"Erm. Sherbet lemon?"
Silence fell.
Hermione blinked. "Really?" She shook her head, too surprised to grin.
The space on the shelf still looked empty, but the buzzing barrier, whatever it had been, seemed to have gone, or at the very least been lowered. Cautiously, Hermione reached for the space.
She had had enough experiences with Harry and his Invisibility cloak to be accustomed to handling objects that she couldn't see, but even so, it was a strange experience. A magical thrill passed into her body as her fingertips made contact with the smooth cover, the same as the light grimoire, but with a foreboding edge, and she knew this was what she was looking for.
She slid the book out carefully, and as it exited the shelf, it was revealed.
The book in her hands was the exact twin of the light counterpart, but covered in black leather. It had the same seven interlocking diamonds embossed into the cover, and the black dye of the leather was faintly mottled. The aura it was now broadcasting was like a foghorn. Clearly whatever spell had made it invisible had dampened that.
Hermione restrained herself from a sound of celebration, and reached for her bag. She had never wanted to leave a bookshop so quickly in her life.
After hurrying through the exchange with the shopkeeper and all but throwing several galleons at him for the book she held, Hermione rushed out into Knockturn Alley. It was strange to think that the inhospitable and dreary street could ever be a welcome sight, but despite the damp and mossy smell of it, it was indeed welcome after the interior of Pilgrim & Sly's.
Pausing only to luxuriate in a breath of clean air, Hermione turned and quickly walked back up the slope she had come down along the left fork, and back into the main thoroughfare of the alley. Many of the shops look like they had shut, and the various street traders who had fled on her arrival still had not returned.
Hermione checked her watch as she strode up the alley, the light of Diagon Alley still too far away to make out. It was a bit after lunch time – she'd been in Pilgrim & Sly's longer than she thought, and she rationalised to herself that expecting sellers of often illegal magical ingredients to keep normal shop hours would be strange.
She began to consider what she might have for her own lunch. There were some reasonable cafés and restaurants on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron, and she figured after such a breakthrough she more than deserved a treat, even if she was itching to get back to the Ministry and delve into the dark grimoire. She knew of a rather nice pâtissier that had opened up shortly before the case had come up which she had been dying to visit, and even if it would probably be somewhat over-priced, the very thought of petit fours was too much to resist.
It was as she caught sight of the light coming down from Diagon Alley, sighing happily with success coursing through her veins, that Hermione tripped.
It was enough of a shock that a cry of surprise and alarm escaped her lips as she fell, but her training kicked in just in time to save her a nasty impact with the uneven cobbles, and she curled and rolled as she hit the ground, protecting her arms, chest, and head, the book clutched to her chest in her left hand.
Instinct had her wand in her right hand before she had even rolled back onto her knees, casting about, and she had barely a split second to see the jet of red light that blazed towards her, recognise the spell, and duck. The curse blasted through the wall behind her, showering her with rotting wood splinters and pieces of whatever had been inside the shop behind.
Swearing, Hermione scrambled to her feet, slashing her wand in the direction that the spell had come from. "Confringo!"
She didn't waste time to see whether she had hit her mark as another shop front exploded, shattered brick flying in all directions – she gathered herself together and ran.
"Crucio!"
Another curse soared over her shoulder, and she could hear the sounds of pursuit, at least two, feet scrambling on the cobbles and the debris. The jet of the Cruciatus Curse hit a hanging lantern, which exploded, shards of glass and iron flying like shrapnel.
"Protego!" Hermione brought the shield charm up just in time to stop a wickedly sharp glass fragment from taking out her left eye. She turned as she ran, trying to get eyes on her attackers.
There were indeed two of them, black cloaked and hooded, and gaining on her now they had made it beyond the rubble of the missed spells. It was impossible to tell who they were. Memories from the past resurfaced, and her first thought was Death Eaters, but black cloaks meant nothing.
"Petrifi–!" Her spell was interrupted as one of the figures slashed at her with their wand as they ran, a jet of blue light speeding towards her, and striking the cobbles just as she left them.
The stones were blasted apart by the blue energy, and Hermione found herself thrown bodily backwards by the force of the explosion, slamming into a shop front and through the paned front windows, glass and wood raining down on her face and torso.
Her ears were ringing from the impact, and the back of her head and definitely struck something, but she struggled up enough to spot her pursuers and waved her wand wildly, spitting dirt and wood and pieces of glass from her mouth. Her Reductor Curse burned through the air, swirling through the robes of one but just missing the wearer, and sizzling on to reduce the door of a shop behind to ash with a blast that whipped at the robes of her attackers. They staggered, but their hoods remained up.
Hermione did not waste time on her disappointment, instead scrabbling around with her free hand to grab the book that had been ripped from her grasp when she fell, then scrambling to her feet ignoring the pain of bruises that were already forming around her back from her two full-body impacts, and rushing again for the light and safety of Diagon Alley.
She fired two more spells off in quick succession under her arm as she ran, and from the cries of annoyance she knew they had hit true, and only hoping that they both hadn't hit the same person. A curse sailed under her arm, blasting a sign board apart, and Hermione chanced a glance back as she continued to run. A sense of victory shot through her. One of her attackers was wobbling around, their legs turned to jelly, the other was unable to walk at all, their feet stuck fast to the uneven cobbles.
Her determination stronger than ever, buoyed with her sense of success, Hermione fixed her eyes on the light of Diagon Alley. It was so close now, barely half a dozen shop fronts away. There would be Ministry officials having late lunches there, she knew. All she needed as a little back up.
It might have been the fact that her ears were still ringing from her last fall, or maybe it was just the adrenaline flooding her body, but it came as quite a surprise as she felt something hit her back. White hot heat spread slowly across her shoulder blades from her spine, and for a few moments it she didn't even feel the burn. She couldn't remember hearing the spell, but then time seemed to speed up all over again, and pain shot through her body, and she found herself hurled against a wall for the third time, her neck whipping back, and something cold and hard impacting with the side of her head seconds before darkness took over.
When Hermione came to, her vision was fuzzy, and the ringing in her ears was louder than ever. She blinked a few times, but it was hard, her eyelids heavy, and she slowly became aware of the aches that were wracking every inch of her body. She knew that feeling.
"Crucio!"
Her brain seemed to be moving slowly, because for a moment she didn't understand what the word meant, or why it filled her with such a dread. Then she remembered. Her body filled with fire that traced every vein and sinew within her, and her back arched as though she could escape the pain that was pouring into her if she just pushed herself out of her body. The ringing in her ears was louder than ever, and she couldn't tell whether or not she was screaming.
"Enough. Let's go."
The words were jumbled and distorted to her ears, as though she was listening to someone speak from underwater. But then the fire was gone, although her body remembered the feeling, and continued to repeat the echo of it over and over again, long after the curse had been lifted.
It was a man's voice.
The thought bloomed groggily in her consciousness, and through her blurry vision she was vaguely aware of two dark figures casting a shadow over her as they moved away, then twin cracks and they were gone.
Something very urgent was pressing at her mind, fighting to voice itself through the numbing blanket of the pain that still crackled through her body, electrifying her nerves.
Book. The book!
Hermione blinked. Book? She knew of so many books. Why was her consciousness so vague?
GRIMOIRE!
She lurched, a gasp tearing at her raw throat, and her left hand scrabbled, feeling about.
The grimoire was gone.
AHHHH! I'm so excited to share this chapter with you guys! I always love a good fight scene, and this was loads of fun to write. Hermione is obviously the most competent of the Golden Trio, and it's always nice to write a badass woman into a fight scene.
Pilgrim & Sly's was also huge fun to make up and just the sort of thing I could see existing in the Wizarding World. As you know, I always have great fun with innovating and adding to the magical lore, and this was no exception.
There is, of course, a bit of a cliff hanger that I'm leaving you on, but I think it's a fun one. Draco's reaction, of course, will be also good fun when I get to share it.
Thank you so much for sticking in there with the two-month updating schedule! I'm currently in a weird transition and editing point between the first and second novel that I'm working on, but once my brain is nice and secure in the second one, I should be able to give this fic a bit more of my time!
I hope you enjoyed it!
Please do review and/or favourite :) Tell me what you like or don't like :) Questions and speculations are always welcome :D As is incomprehensible flailing if that's what you go in for :)
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