Crowning
Wednesday, 24 November, 2004
7:18 PM
"Still too sodding early," Hermione sighed to herself. Her breath escaped her like clouds against the dark cobbled streets of Hogsmeade Village.
Hermione had no qualms being punctual. On the contrary, it was deemed a virtue to the rigid witch who, after various dalliances with a Time-Turner, fully grasped the finitude of time.
Yet, as she entered the only slightly less freezing interior of the Hog's Head Inn, she cursed her own conscientiousness as she'd been waiting in the snowy village far longer than what would be considered necessary.
The space was empty, save for a lone house-elf who mindlessly swept the hardwood floors. Despite the elf's efforts, the empty pub still appeared in a state of dusty decay. Couldn't the Circle of the Sphinx have chosen a nice and cosy hotel with a roaring fireplace instead of this dingy lot as her rendezvous location?
Hermione wrapped her stiff fingers around the ceramic mug of a hot Butterbeer she'd ordered from the terse balding innkeep who was too young to seem quite so depleted and weatherworn.
The Butterbeer was a tooth-decaying delight mixed with a fleeting nostalgia of her youth. It may have been years since she'd drunk it last. She let the cloying liquid linger in her mouth for a moment before it dripped down her oesophagus like syrup.
The drink was a desperate attempt to keep preoccupied for the next ten or so minutes before she'd feel the anxious urge to duck back outside, scroll in hand, ready to be whisked away to wherever the hell the Portkey would take her.
7:21 PM
Hermione bit into her thumb. She'd fallen back into the disgusting habit of picking at her cuticles and gnawing at the skin as her eyes ran over the near-empty bottles of well liquor, some with the shreds of their previous Brand labels still clinging to the glass, like old wallpaper that lingered on forgotten walls.
A thin layer of fermentation had formed in one of the bottles of what looked to be Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, now a mysterious hazy brown fluid likely syphoned into the glass and made to look expensive.
At the thought, she pressed the barely drunk Butterbeer away from her as disgust from her surroundings suddenly intermingled with the latent fear that dwelt within.
She tried to distract herself with thoughts of Severus. What was he up to? She wondered what he was reading now, having burned through half the contents of the library already. How would he cope without her? Hermione couldn't remember the last time they'd spent a night apart. Would he be upset with her?
7:25 PM
Hermione glanced over her shoulder, peering through the Victorian-style crown windows. Though the eclipse had not yet started, a wash of amber seeped up the horizon and shone with vibrant saturation through the sheen of brown dust gathered on the glass.
The creeping sensation of anxiety began to sprout again, and she swallowed hard as she drummed her fingers with an impatient lack of rhythm. She kept seesawing on whether she was making the right choice.
As the initial excitement of joining a secret society faded into a mellowed logical analysis, anxiety had begun to grip her.
Yes, the need for fighters was undeniable. After all, the Ministry was useless; they proved it with every crisis. With Harry and Ron working within the governmental entity, Hermione was privy to how the changes within the Ministry of Magic had impacted its utility and effectiveness against actual crime. It had become a bureaucratic machine of red-tape and regulations, more invested in signalling their righteousness and good-will rather than actually doing anything about it.
Addressing her feelings of uselessness was one reason to join the Circle, it was another thing entirely to hunt down the Puritas members responsible for Severus' fate. But while vengeance was hardly a good colour on Hermione, she desperately sought justice for the Wizard of the Year-turned-lone-forgotten-vampire. After all he'd done for the world, he deserved someone fighting for him.
Hermione reached for the warm mug again and tilted it, watching with a wistful smile as the frothy cream of the Butterbeer clung to the sides of the glass.
Severus had been her only confidant for the several months she'd been residing at Hogwarts. He was her companion in moments of stress, and her teacher and disciplinarian when she needed guidance.
It was with a firm hand that Severus kept his expectations for her clear. Hermione's hips curled, digging into the hard wood of the stool as she remembered the first time he tortuously used his tongue for what felt like hours, withholding her release until he felt she was properly punished for foolish mistakes she'd made in her lesson plans.
With a burning face, Hermione glanced down at her wristwatch.
7:26 PM
"Oh!" She gasped. She reached into her pocket and withdrew two sickles which she slapped onto the bar before she jumped to her feet and rushed outside.
It was like her breath was syphoned from her lungs as the cold air enveloped her. She tugged thick knit-mittens onto her already trembling fingers and tucked the small Portkey scroll against her palm, letting the parchment make contact with her as it rested between yarn and skin.
Her eyes remained on the face of her watch while she tapped her foot against the cobble-stone ground.
Just a few more minutes.
7:27 PM
Dread and excitement filled her as the long arm of her wristwatch moved closer south. She tried to silence the anxious thoughts that flitted through her mind like a whirring carousel. This was exciting—she was excited. An opportunity to fight evil, what more could she want?
7:28 PM
The air was dead cold and casting a warming charm around her hardly helped. She could hear her teeth rattling in her head as she considered the potential benefit of a shielding bubble charm to maintain her warmth.
Yes, that was the trick.
7:30 PM
The long-hand of her wristwatch finally clicked in place. She glanced up around the street, anxious eyes searching for something to happen. But before she could even take a step into the street, something squeezed around her waist. An invisible lasso wrapped tightly around her and flung her forward like a trebuchet through a blur of colours.
She fell with a heavy thud onto the ground.
It was freezing there. For a brief moment, Hermione couldn't tell if she'd fallen onto water or land as wetness seeped into her jeans and coated her fingers. It was impossibly dark, but after a quick exhale and a moment to gather her bearings, she recognized the feeling of soft grass under her fingers and the damp give of dirt beneath her knees. Dew clung to her, the droplets culminating to leave patches of water that seemed to attract the swirling bitter air around her.
Hermione rose to her feet and blinked once, twice, until she could vaguely make out the mist and shadows which intermingled into various shades of black and navy. The enormous amber moon that had illuminated the streets of Hogsmeade earlier was nowhere to be found, hidden under a blanket of dense mist that occluded her vision. She could smell the salt in the humid air that stuck to her face and made her curly hair twist into chaotic coils.
"Hello?" she called out.
She could have sworn one of the shadows moved.
She didn't know what to expect, but it was clearly not this. Wind swept through her hair and caused strands to whip at her face with biting little stings, flailing like the wisps of a disturbed flame.
A burst of pale blue light shot from several feet away and hit her as soon as she rose from the ground.
"Ah—Geroff me!" Hermione squirmed and struggled against the vice that suddenly gripped her face.
Darkness and warmth enveloped her and, in a sudden swell of panic, she fought against a dense fabric that swallowed her head whole. The more she tugged, the tighter it became and she nearly fell back from the exertion.
"Our initiates have arrived."
Hermione's head snapped up toward the sound and she released her grip on the hood that sat snug on her face.
"Let us begin."
As the words were spoken, light flooded her vision and she winced from the sudden assault of colour and clarity. Hermione could suddenly see the tall blades of grass around her feet and ankles, swaying against the breeze of ocean air.
Her eyes trailed up to the enormous amber blood moon casting its blazing light on the earth below. They stood near the edge of a steep cliff and, though the sea was far below, she could feel the droplets of saltwater as the waves collided with thunderous force against the rocks.
It was then that she discovered them: The Circle of the Sphinx. They were rigid looming shadowy beings with metallic masks that glimmered like embers under the burning eclipse. They stood in a circle surrounding her.
For a wink of a second, her heart seized as she mistook them for Death Eaters, ghosts that she'd eagerly left in the distant past. But there was little intimidation or moroseness about these figures. They were masked with distinct elegance, their faces adorned with intricate carvings and delicate ornamentation. Their eyes bore into her: blue, green, violet, silver, and brown all watched her.
Hermione took turns staring at each member in a futile attempt to identify them. Even if she had met any of them before, it was impossible to recognize based on eye-colour alone. Everything, from their hair to their physique, was cloaked in some way. The coloured masks appeared to extend with magical threads into the hair of the Circle members, morphing them to be the same colours of the masks themselves.
Hermione could still distinguish their silhouettes and shapes, differentiating males, females, and surprisingly, the small globular head of another being, perhaps a house elf or goblin. Still, they all looked relatively uniform, minimising their individual identities into an amorphous group of dark beings.
"Good evening, everyone," the figure in the middle spoke.
Turning to the other Circle members, the man gave nods of acknowledgement. Even with his ash-tinted mask, she could see the deep creases of his forehead and cavernous smile-lines of his cheeks.
"We are here for our fifth Initiation ceremony for the Circle of the Sphinx, and we have, as you can see, three potential members to join our ranks."
It was at that moment that Hermione realised she wasn't standing alone. She'd been too nervous to make any major moves, her whole body felt stiff with anxiety, but as she gently twisted her head she spotted two others to her left. Their heads were covered in what looked like black bags, shielding their identity from her and the Circle.
The scroll had disappeared from her grasp. The tips of Hermione's fingers felt cold under her thick woollen mittens and her breath left her lips with shallow spurts. Her anxiety didn't seem half as bad as the man's standing furthest to her left who visibly quivered and rocked back-and-forth with self-soothing sways on the heels of his feet.
"Before we begin," the man in the middle continued, "you may've noticed that Lumi's not here today as he was summoned by the Ministry for the full moon. He sends his regards, of course, of course, you know… Anywho…"
The old ash-faced man turned toward Hermione and the other initiates.
"Welcome!" he said with a joyous smile and an enthusiastic clap of his hands.
If Hermione didn't know better, she would have presumed the man was a Shakespearian actor, he spoke with such vigour and accented pronunciation.
"You three were chosen as initiates for the Circle of the Sphinx. As you read in our letter to you, we're a secret society organized to capture and apprehend known or suspected Puritas members in order to keep the magical and muggle communities safe from their terror and tyranny !
I am Sage. You may think of me as an Ambassador for the Circle of the Sphinx. I'm your representative, your magistrate, and I'll be providing missions and resources, should you need them. If you are chosen as a partner to one of our members, I will be your second point of contact. That is, only, if you are chosen to join the Circle."
"What do you people do, exactly?" The woman standing next to Hermione responded, her tone sharp and sceptical.
Hermione glanced at the woman, grateful in a way that she had chosen to speak up and ask one of the many questions Hermione had.
"My dear, you will be informed in no time at all. Ah, actually—" Sage glanced up toward the open sky, now a stunning navy against the moon. Its vivid glow loomed overhead like a peering eye over the quiet Circle.
"It's time! Rogue?" Sage asked, turning towards the members.
The smallest of the group stepped forward, carrying a large, glimmering artefact. Sage took the item and lifted it over his head, moving towards the Initiates with slow, deliberate steps. With the moonlight shining down on him, Hermione could make out the golden shimmer of an intricate wide-mouthed goblet.
"You'll each be asked to take a sip from the chalice and, should you be worthy, the Initiation ceremony will begin. Sir," Sage slowly lowered the chalice and offered it to the man to Hermione's left.
"Do you—do you kill people ? " The male initiate asked with a shaking voice.
Sage remained silent, his lips curling into an awkward smile.
"When you're catching 'suspected Puritas members'? Do you kill them?"
"All of your questions will be answered in due time, good Sir," Sage replied with a nod.
"No, I don't think so, good Sir . I'm not drinking anything 'til you tell me the damned truth. Do you murder other people?"
After a tense moment between the two, Sage's shoulders rose with a sigh as he lowered the chalice.
"Death is not our, ahem, preferred method of apprehension," Sage responded. "But, yes, there has been a time or two that self-defence was necessary…"
Some of the Circle members glanced at one another.
"Necessary? I've heard enough. I'm leaving. I want nothing to do with murderers."
"I assure you, we only use force as needed."
"You're just as bad as they are," the man spat. "Get me out of here! I refuse to join."
"Very well, no need to shout." Sage glanced over his shoulder. "Pollux."
At the name, an enormous mountain of a man stepped from the ranks of the Circle and approached the initiates. Seeing a man with arms as large as tree trunks and a serious expression that would give anyone an instinctive response to flee, the other initiate began to stumble backwards, away from Pollux. It was futile, however, as Pollux gripped the man by the shoulders with impressive speed and, with a pop, the two men disappeared.
"Good riddance," one of the members said under his breath.
The sound carried with the wind, and she could hear the light laughter of the other members, some who nodded in agreement.
"' A time or two ', Sage?" A member to Hermione's right said. He appeared to be tall and thin but had a clearly muscular physique that accented his defined, masculine form. "You can be honest with them, they should know what they're getting into."
"You want them all to run away, Cas?" A stout woman with an American accent responded.
"The weak ones, yes." Cas crossed his arms over his chest.
Hermione wondered whether this was a trick of the light or if she was being paranoid, but she thought she saw his silver eyes land intently on her as he spoke.
"They should know the risks. We don't apprehend known murderers and terrorists with a slap on the wrist. Do we, Sage?"
Hermione could hear her pulse ringing in her ears. She could sense the dread trickle up her oesophagus like bile that left an acrid taste.
Kill .
It was a possibility, she knew. Having been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, she was familiar with the risks of an organisation whose purpose was to fight evil. There were potential complications . Molly Weasley herself had murdered as a means to defend her family. Still, she felt resounding confidence that she would not be able to kill anyone. Her days of getting blood on her hands were surely over.
Perhaps it was a useless thought to entertain. There was no guarantee she would be asked to join the Circle, and if she had, the likelihood that she would be chosen to partake in any physical fights with others was… laughable. Perhaps she would be the Circle's potion-crafter.
Her jaw tightened as she recalled the words of Draco Malfoy.
Do they need a librarian?
Stupid Malfoy. Surely, she'd be able to provide the Circle with more than that.
"Alright, alright, Cassius. Enough of that, we still have two wonderful, clearly eager Initiates here waiting for their opportunity to join the Circle! My dear," Sage said, pressing the chalice in the direction of the only other remaining initiate.
The woman took the chalice without hesitation.
"Cheers," she said and tipped the heavy cup.
Hermione stared wide eyed at the woman's brazen attitude as the woman threw caution to the wind and spilled the contents into her mouth. She swallowed in one large gulp before she handed it back to Sage.
It was as though even the wind waited with bated breath, stilling around them as everyone stood frozen in place, watching the woman with anticipation.
Hermione had no idea what to expect. She tried to remember the last time she'd been to an event like this. The memories of the Sorting Hat and Triwizard Cup came to mind, prompting Hermione to sway slightly away from the woman lest she combust or burst into raucous speech.
Nothing of the sort seemed to happen. Instead, the woman looked to Hermione and then to the Circle and let out a relieved laugh.
"Is she...?" One of the members breathed from behind Hermione.
"Wait for it," said a fragile, stoic-looking man that stood next to Pollux's empty spot in the circle.
"Now what?" The initiate asked with palpable excitement. "Do I—"
"Oh no," Rogue squeaked when the woman's words were cut short by a sudden cough.
"I cannot bear to watch zis!" said a female member.
"Here it comes," added another.
Hermione craned her neck to watch as the woman let out another cough. Then another.
"What's happ—" Words didn't make it out fast enough as the woman let out a fourth cough. This one caused her whole body to shake.
On her fifth cough, the woman suddenly erupted into a burst of involuntary convulsions.
Hermione immediately stepped toward her, but the long arm of Sage prevented her from reaching toward the woman who fell to the floor in a flurry of violent shudders. Her limbs flailed at her side and her whole body collided hard with the ground beneath her.
"S-someone help her!" Hermione cried out helplessly, staring with wide-eyed shock.
"There's no helping her now," the Circle member identified as Cassius said with a demeanour that seemed too abrasive to her liking.
Hermione could almost feel the earth vibrating under the weight of the woman as she rattled like a skeleton in a cage. She could hear the sound of joints cracking and teeth grinding mercilessly until finally, with one heavy gargled breath, a long whistle escaped from the depths of the woman's throat.
Everything fell still.
The sound of a loud pop almost caused Hermione to jump out of her own skin as Pollux reappeared in his place in the circle.
"Left him on a bench in Diagon Alley, memories wiped—ah, damn it! Did I miss the shakes?"
"Just barely," answered a Circle member.
"It wasn't that bad," added another.
"What are you talking about? Did you see her legs go over her head?" That comment roused a couple of chuckles from the group.
It only caused Hermione to glare at them. She could hardly believe what she just saw, and the casual playfulness of the group made it worse. Would that be her fate? Could she handle the stress of such a seizure? And what the hell was she being made to drink?
"That's enough, all of you!" Sage cut in. "Unfortunately, as you all can see, this initiate was not a good fit. Pollux?"
"I'm on it," Pollux said.
He stepped forward with long, fluid strides and took the unconscious woman in his arms before disappearing with another pop.
"Anyyyywho! No matter. Alas, we have our last initiate who will undoubtedly fare, well… we shall see how she'll fare."
Hermione's blood ran cold when she realised Sage was pushing the chalice in her direction, her gaze having been glued to the spot where the woman had laid nearly lifeless just a second ago.
"My dear?"
Hermione glanced wide-eyed toward Sage, who merely stared back expectantly. She fought to calm her trembling fingers as she reached to take the heavy wide-mouthed cup. She could feel the ruby red gemstones embedded around the golden slope of the chalice as her thumb ran over the florid mediaeval curves which reminded Hermione of Godric Gryffindor's sword.
The whistle of the wind was inaudible now, all she could hear was the sound of her heart beating, screaming at her to make better life choices. She couldn't possibly drink from this cup—this cup that contained a liquid so perilous it caused a woman to contort like a barely stuffed ragdoll.
Despite the voice in her head urging her to pause, Hermione brought the chalice up to her lips. The liquid that had magically refilled was a swirling vibrant blue. She could smell the sweet, herbal scent of liquorice root before notes of black pepper tickled the inside of her nose. The way the blue fluid sparkled with thin legs of tiny bubbles, Hermione could tell it contained Adder's Fork, a known hallucinogen and anxiolytic.
Don't drink it.
What if you collapse?
Are you fucking mad?
What would Severus say?
What if—
She brought it to her lips.
She wasn't there to second guess herself.
Most of Hermione's best memories came from a moment of sheer, stupid bravery.
It tasted bitter as arsenic at first, but as it went down the liquid had a pleasing cooling effect that bloomed in her throat and spread over her lips. She swallowed a decent gulp before pushing the heavy cup back into Sage's waiting hands.
Her palm flew to her chest and pressed against the muscles that tightened under her touch.
Oh no. Here it came.
Suddenly, it felt like her heart was going to burst under the weight of her constricting ribs.
Hermione fell forward involuntarily, catching herself as she squeezed her knees together and fought the urge to expel the contents of her stomach all over the scuffed shoes of the Circle's ambassador.
She waited for the violent seizure that she'd just witnessed the other initiate endure. She forced her eyes shut, her mind drowning in a flood of anxiety.
What a delight.
Her head snapped up at the words, soft and feminine, spoken in a hushed whisper. The voice was not Sage's, nor did it seem to come from any of the other members.
What a fiesty one this is. Quite a fit, yes, indeed. She would make…
Hermione gasped—oh God, what was happening?—her breath caught halfway in, halfway out.
...a wondrous…
The air was thick and heavy. It coated her throat like molasses. It stuck to her insides like sap, preventing her lungs from contracting and expanding in full. She was drowning in the dense sea air. She couldn't breathe.
...addition.
The world spun around her. The stars in the sky swayed and stilled, covering the black sky like tinsel. Nausea rose from her sacrum up to her throat, where it stopped. There was nothing to expel, no food nor air escaped her body as suddenly Hermione felt as though she'd been dropped from a seven story building.
And then, all she saw were colours.
Author's Note:
Please let me know if you're enjoying this fic! Your reviews mean everything to me!
Sy