The morning after the infiltration of the Ministry for Magic, Harry got up feeling the weight of everything that had happened. His every move felt like it cost three times the usual amount of energy. A hot shower helped him feel a bit more ready to face the coming day.
When he got out of the shower, Harry was surprised to see Ron and Neville also awake and heading in to take his place. Neither boy was well known as an early riser. I guess we're all going to be a little off today.
Harry waited for his friends down in the common room once he was dressed. The first to make it down was Ginny and she just gave him a solemn nod, before sitting down in the chair next to his.
When all four were finally there they headed down to the Great Hall, doing their best to ignore Hermione's absence. Luna joined them at the Gryffindor table and the five friends ate in silence for a while.
In the end it was Ron who was least able to bear the quiet. "So? Think Madam Pomfrey'll let us in?"
"Guess we'll find out," Neville responded grimly, putting his cutlery down. "Any of you still up for pretending you have an appetite?"
There were a couple of unintelligible grumbles from the group as they all got up and trouped off to see if they could visit with the missing member of their company. None of them paid any attention to the stares and whispers that followed them out of the Great Hall.
The trek to the hospital wing was made in silence, each member of the group too unsure of what they would find to speak. It turned out that Hermione was sleeping, further encouraging the group's silence as they took up position around her bed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the nurse's office door open and close. Guess Pomfrey wanted to know if she'd be needed.
For maybe fifteen minutes, Harry sat there with the rest of his friends, just looking at Hermione and silently encouraging her to wake up, to give them a sign that she would be alright. He would have stayed longer if he hadn't made a promise to Dumbledore on top of the Astronomy Tower. "Guys, I have to go. Dumbledore wants to see me," he murmured quietly, drawing starts around the group at the first voice to sound in so long. "Let me know if something happens?"
"Of course, Harry," Ginny promised as the others were already turning back to look at Hermione's face.
Harry nodded in acknowledgement and got up. Sweeping his eyes over the ward he noticed that a second bed was occupied that hadn't been when they had returned from the Ministry the night before. The person in the bed moved and Harry got a glimpse of a toad-like face. Umbridge!
Forcing down his anger at seeing the woman unexpectedly, Harry turned to leave, conscious every step of a possible enemy at his back. No, Pomfrey is still here. She'll keep the others safe.
As he passed the door to Pomfrey's office, he hesitated and then knocked. The door opened and revealed the stern looking witch. "What is it, Potter? Did you just remember that you were injured?"
Harry thought that it might say something that his healer's first instinct upon seeing him was to be acerbic. Oh, hell. I'll take it if she's keeping an eye on Umbridge. "No. I was just wondering if you know how long Hermione's going to be in here?"
Pomfrey's features softened somewhat. "I'm afraid not, Potter. I don't even know what sort of curse she was struck with. All I know is that I had to sedate Ms. Granger this morning as she was working herself into hysterics. It sounded like she thought she was still at the Ministry."
Harry growled wordlessly, angry with her for not calling him, angry with Dumbledore for not passing on the story of what had happened and angry at himself for not coming to the hospital wing sooner. "It's a curse from a place called Ceylon. The incantation is 'Agula'. Voldemort cast it right after a Memory Charm and said that it would lock her mind at her current level of knowledge. He claimed that he had removed everything she knows about magic." Harry's words were curt, his fury almost coming off its leash at the knowledge that this might have been what held up Hermione's treatment.
Pomfrey's brows climbed up farther and farther. "Potter, I… how do you know all this?"
"I was there," he snapped. "Hermione came in while I was duelling Voldemort and he decided to-… to-" Harry couldn't continue. As it was, rage and regret threatened to overwhelm him and he had to take several deep breaths. "If you need to know anything else about what happened, come find me or the Headmaster."
With that, Harry stormed out of the room. Just in time he remembered what had happened with the doors the night before and, not wanting to disturb Hermione's rest, forced himself to march out with measured steps.
Still fuming, he made his way over to the Headmaster's office. By the time he reached the gargoyle statue, Harry had barely cooled to a simmer. He glared at the unmoving stone and briefly considered guessing the password. "I'm not in the mood. Just tell him I'm here," he snapped instead.
It felt like he had entered a staring contest with the granite face in front of him, but Harry wasn't prepared to give in. At long last the gargoyle stepped aside, looking as hesitant as he'd ever seen a statue move. Doesn't say much now, does it? Harry gave it a curt nod and a muttered thanks before continuing up the staircase.
The door to Dumbledore's office didn't wait for him to knock, but swung open pre-emptively. Inside the old wizard was sitting behind his desk with an eyebrow cocked at the teenager who just stormed in. "You seem to be in a foul mood this morning, my boy."
"Just found out that Pomfrey didn't know what'd happened to Hermione when either one of us could have told her."
Dumbledore sat back and stroked his beard. "I believe that I could envision that happening between the late hour and the chaos that led us to that moment," he mused. "I do hope you were able to keep your temper while informing Poppy of the exact events?"
"I got close enough."
"Oh dear." Dumbledore looked honestly concerned.
"Look, I wasn't going to start yelling with Hermione asleep a dozen feet away," Harry snapped, feeling his anger flare again.
Dumbledore's expression relaxed somewhat. "No, I do not believe that you would…" The Headmaster shook his head slightly, causing his beard to sway gently from side to side. "Well, since Poppy now has additional information we can only let her do her duty, as we must turn to ours."
"The books or a plan for the summer?" Harry asked, steeling himself. Hermione would be furious if you got this chance and didn't pay attention, Potter.
"Unless a good night's rest has blessed you with an epiphany regarding your holidays, I believe we should turn to the books for now." Dumbledore paused, and looked at Harry who realized that he was being given a chance to actually offer up an answer to the dilemma that had been raised the night before. He shook his head. "Follow me then."
Dumbledore got up stiffly from behind his desk, one of the rare occasions Harry could recall where the headmaster's age showed itself. He followed the older wizard over to a wall that was covered in bookshelves floor to ceiling. "This humble collection, Harry, has been built up over the many long years of my life."
Harry had to crane his head back to get a good look at the 'humble collection' as the scent of old leather and parchment tickled his nose. Yeah, Hermione is going to be howling if I don't figure out a way to get her in here.
"I see that I have managed to impress even your literary sensibilities," Dumbledore interrupted Harry's thoughts with a chuckle that contained a hint of pride. "There is a wealth of knowledge on these shelves. Some of it will undoubtedly be of use to you, most of it will be beyond you as you have simply not progressed far enough in your education or because you will not have mastered the language the book is written in."
Harry could see that there were books written in runes and symbols that he couldn't even recognise as an alphabet, never mind a language. "Yeah, I think I can see that," he muttered in awe.
"Indeed. Then from now until you leave the castle, you have my permission to read these books. As I said yesterday, I hope that you will understand that this privilege is granted to you alone for the time being. In addition I would ask that my books not leave my office and that you read quietly at such times when I am working here. Is that agreeable to you?"
"Yes, sir," Harry agreed readily.
"Good, good," Dumbledore rumbled, sounding pleased. "Is there anything else I- oh! I should inform you that the password to my office is 'Caramel Cobwebs'."
Harry nodded to show that he would remember.
"Excellent. I will return to my work for now. I encourage you to get started; time is not something we currently have in abundance."
"Yes, sir." Harry's eyes were already scanning the spines of the books looking for one that sounded promising. His gaze was caught as if on a hook by the title Transfiguring for Trouble and Animating for Adversaries. The memory of floating rubble keeping him from getting to Hermione on time filled Harry's mind. Definitely going to be helpful in the future he decided and took the book down. He settled into a nearby comfortable chair to read.
The last days of term quickly settled into a rhythm for Harry. In the mornings he would eat breakfast and visit Hermione. Then he would head up to Dumbledore's office to read. That the man himself was only present sporadically spoke to Harry of the level of trust he was being shown here and it made him more determined that he would gain as much as he could from the experience.
Lunch saw Harry once more at Hermione's bed, frequently with the rest of his friends, before he would disappear up to the Room of Requirement to work on the practical application of what he had studied that morning. After dinner he would sit with Hermione for an hour or more before either she or Madam Pomfrey would send him back to the Gryffindor dorm.
Unfortunately, underlying that was another pattern; one that had Harry on edge as he walked into the hospital wing for one of his early morning visits. Alarm bells started going off in his head. Ahead of him he could see that Hermione was sitting in her bed, her shoulders hunched, her head in her hands, her hair forming a limp curtain that hid her face from view.
It was not the first time Harry had found Hermione like this and a part of him dreaded what he knew was coming next. Taking a seat beside her he gently called her name. "Hermione?"
"Harry!" Hermione's head shot up and she stared at him with desperate, tear-filled eyes. "Harry, what happened last night?"
In the days since their raid on the Ministry it had become clear that Voldemort's spell was keeping Hermione from making any new memories. Every day she woke up and thought that the fight had been only the night before.
"It was a trap," Harry answered Hermione's question heavily. "You got caught in the crossfire so we brought you here."
"But what happened to me, Harry?" Hermione begged like she did every day until she got the answer she needed.
"He performed a spell to lock away everything you know about magic," Harry admitted.
Tears began to leak from Hermione's eyes.
"Hey, it'll be okay," Harry tried to reassure her. "Madam Pomfrey's working on a cure and she's never failed before." It didn't help. It never did.
"Yeah, but normally I'd be helping with the research, wouldn't I?" Hermione asked in that broken, bitter tone before she collapsed in sobs as she had on the night itself and all that Harry could do was hold her and wait for a chance to feed her the Calming Draught that stood on her night stand for just such occasions.
Once Hermione had cried herself out and Harry had given her the potion, she slipped back into an uneasy sleep. Harry did his best to make her more comfortable, slightly rearranging her pillow and smoothing out her sheets.
Looking up from his fretting, he found Madam Pomfrey standing just outside her office with a worried expression. Harry could only shake his head and saw how the old nurse bowed her own in disappointment. Looking down at his best friend's tear-stained face, Harry caressed it with the back of his fingers. "Sweet dreams, Hermione… I hope."
Straightening up, Harry squared his shoulders and headed back up to Dumbledore's office. It turned out to be one of the mornings that the old man was out and about on business, leaving Harry with the office to himself. Transfiguring for Trouble and Animating for Adversaries lay on a small table next to the chair Harry usually sat in, but with Hermione's breakdown so fresh in his mind, Harry couldn't bring himself to read about fighting just yet, knowing that he would be constantly distracting himself with second guessing what had happened.
Instead he scanned the spines of the books once more, looking for something, anything, that might give him a hint on helping his friend. He picked out one or two books that had titles related to healing, but had to put them back after flipping through them. It was more than a little obvious how far out of his depth those treatises were.
He grabbed a third book, this one titled Unassailable Ailments, and leafed through it. Never mind the words, even the diagrams are giving me a headache. And what's… are these arithmantic formulas? Harry flipped more and more pages out of what might have been a morbid fascination with his own ignorance. I don't even understand the basics of this book.
He was about to close it and put it back when he noticed the last page. It was blank except for a lone sentence in the middle:
If all treatments fail, and the healer is desperate to the point of suicidal foolishness, a last resort may be to summon a fae and bargain for the patient's health.
Harry blinked and read the sentence again; and a third time. A fae? What's a fae? Closing the book he was holding and gently replacing it on the shelf, Harry felt his thoughts swirl as if caught in a storm. A fae… I need to know what a fae is and if one could help me.
He started searching the books in front of him, but no matter how he looked, there wasn't a single one that mentioned anything like the word 'fae' in the title. Harry tried grabbing a bestiary, but it proved to be utterly unhelpful. Despondently, Harry finally sat back down in the chair, determined that he would not waste all of his morning looking for things that he couldn't find. The answer'll probably be in one of those books in another language, if it's here at all he thought to himself in disgust.
He considered asking Dumbledore or Pomfrey about what he'd found, but felt like they would just fob him off with a platitude about how he was barking up the wrong tree without ever explaining why this wouldn't work. Probably because the book said you'd have to be desperate and they… they're not; not like her friends are.
If only I could ask Hermione… or at least read her notes.
Realising that he'd been sitting there with the book he was supposed to be reading in his lap, Harry tried once more to refocus his attention, but that one sentence just refused to leave him. Finally, he gave up and just slammed the book shut.
Leaving the office, Harry tried to figure out where he could go instead. A quick charm told him that he was an hour and a half too early for lunch. Maybe I'll head up to the Tower. I haven't really spent a lot of time with the others over the past two weeks.
Lacking a better idea, Harry made his way up to Gryffindor Tower. When he got there, the common room was empty, though the sound of laughter and cheering drifting in through an open window made it fairly clear where everyone had gone. Harry headed up to his dorm room and rooted around in his trunk. Soon he had the Marauders' Map lying on his bed and was scanning it for any of his friends.
Seeing that Ginny seemed to be making her way towards the Tower, Harry cleared the map and headed back down. The two Gryffindors walked into the room at the same time. "Hey Gin," Harry greeted. "Where're the others?"
"Oh, hey, Harry." Ginny sounded surprised to see him. "Neville and Luna are outside looking for… well, something at any rate. Ron and I just got turfed out of the hospital wing by Pomfrey so we decided to go flying to take our mind off of things. You wanna join?"
Harry thought about it for a moment. It might be a good distraction. "Sure, why not?"
"Great!" Ginny cheered happily. "I just need to head up since I already packed my broom."
"Ginny, wait!" Harry cried out in realization. "If you're headed up to the girls' dorms, could you get something for me?"
"Get what for you, exactly?" Ginny asked suspiciously.
"Hermione has this notebook, it's about this big and covered in red leather," Harry described, holding his hands apart in his best guess at the size of the book.
"Forget it!" Ginny snapped. "I'm not getting you Hermione's diary."
"It's not her diary!" Harry protested desperately. "That book has her research notes in it. She's let us read them sometimes when things in there came up in our homework."
Ginny hesitated with one foot already on the stairs. "Okay, say I believe you… why would you want Hermione's notes?"
"I-… I guess to feel like there's a part of her that's helping to research what's wrong with her," Harry admitted awkwardly.
"Is that why you disappear every day? To research what happened to Hermione?"
"Among other things," Harry admitted. He waited with baited breath as he watched Ginny struggle to come to a decision.
"Fine. I'll get you the book, but you'd better still be coming flying with us."
"I promise!"
Ginny gave him an odd look and for a moment Harry was worried that she was going to change her mind, but then she just turned around and made her way up the stairs to the girls' dorms. Harry watched her go until he could no longer see her.
As soon as Ginny disappeared from view Harry began feeling like she was taking too long. It took him another second to realise that he had started pacing. This isn't getting me anywhere he chided himself. I'll get my Firebolt and hope that Ginny'll have gotten everything when I get back.
Harry's broom had been returned to him rather perfunctorily by McGonagall soon after Dumbledore's return and Umbridge's consignment to the hospital wing. He just hadn't seen the sense in returning it to his quidditch locker with the season already over and done with.
While Ginny wasn't there yet when Harry came back with his broom slung over his shoulder, he didn't have long to wait. When she came down the stairs, Ginny was looking at the red leather book in her hand. As she held it out to Harry he thought he saw some reluctance in her posture. "It really isn't her diary, Gin."
"I know," Ginny sighed, shaking her head. "I checked. It's just-… I don't think I've ever seen you this worried."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Really?"
"Yeah… she means a lot to you, doesn't she?"
Harry didn't know that he was smiling until he opened his mouth to answer. "Yeah. She does. Without her and Ron-" Harry shook his head fondly. "Those two are the best thing that ever happened to me."
Ginny had an answering smile on her face now. "After all you've been through together I guess it would've been weirder if you didn't feel like that," she admitted.
It sounded to Harry like there was another meaning to what she said. Or maybe I'm turning into the kind of paranoid bastard who could give Moody a run for his money. "Come on. I'll put this in my trunk and we can launch from the window of the boys dorm."
Ginny laughed as she followed him up. Harry put the book away carefully before joining her in jumping out of his window and mounting their brooms in mid-fall to race towards the Quidditch pitch where Ron would be waiting on his own Cleansweep.
Ron was elated to see his best friend flying out to meet him and Harry spent an enjoyable afternoon flying with the two Weasleys. He couldn't quite manage to forget about the book that was waiting for him in his dorm, but after the awkwardness Ginny's reaction had engendered in him, Harry had decided not to let on to his friends just how badly he wanted to get back and research what a fae was and how one might help Hermione.
After they had exhausted themselves on their brooms, Harry, Ron and Ginny landed and trouped back up to the castle on foot. Luna and Neville joined them for dinner, regaling them with a long story of not finding what they were looking for that Harry could empathise with.
Harry also forced himself to play a few games of chess with Ron, before begging off and heading to bed early, though not so much so that it would draw questions from his friends. Hermione's notes were lying in his trunk, waiting for him.
Once he had the book in his hands, Harry stood there, almost trembling with anticipation. He forced himself to place it gently on his pillow.
As the book left his hands, Harry was overtaken with a driving urgency, practically tearing off his clothes, leaping into his pyjamas and hurriedly brushing his teeth before diving into his bed and yanking the hangings closed.
Finally alone, Harry lit his wand, ignoring the shadows it cast on his hangings and picked up Hermione's notes again. All of his attention was focused on the book in his lap. Carefully, almost reverently he opened the cover and let his eyes rove over his best friend's neat handwriting.
Not knowing what he was looking for, Harry just began flipping through the notebook. All he knew was that Hermione had generally been the source of desperately needed knowledge over his years at Hogwarts. Five minutes of this flipping later and Harry was ready to tear out his hair. I can barely even understand half of the words Hermione uses!
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow exhalation. No. I can do this somehow. I just need to figure out where to start. Think like Hermione… think like Hermione… think like Hermione. Maybe she has something in here about how she thinks? As soon as the thought occurred to him, Harry damned it as silly.
A sigh gusted out between his lips. Okay, so maybe come at this from a different angle. Would Hermione know about the fae? It was more difficult than it should have been to work through his immediate certainty that she would. Why would she know that? Well… she'd have read it in a book… that Dumbledore doesn't have.
Tiredly, Harry rubbed his hands across his face. Thinking like Hermione was difficult. Could she have read a book that Dumbledore doesn't have? Or perhaps a book he does have that's written in a different language. Harry froze.
Hermione might have a way of reading books in different languages; something like a translating spell. Harry didn't doubt that his friend was fully capable of learning another language, but with how many languages there were in the world she'd never be able to learn enough to read all the books she wanted to.
With this new insight crystalised in his mind, Harry set to flipping through Hermione's notes more determinedly. Rather than reading he was only scanning through Hermione's handwriting for that one word: 'translation'. A third of the way through her notes he found it.
The Pyrgi Spell – a text translation spell
YES! I knew it! Hermione, you rock! Harry began reading everything Hermione had written about the spell. When he had done that he read it a second time. On his third reading, he felt his eyes begin to droop. Finally, he had to admit defeat after reading the same phrase six times in a row and still not knowing what it was saying.
Harry put Hermione's book in one of the pockets that had been stitched into the curtains of his four-poster and fell asleep with a hopeful smile on his face that he could not even have imagined that morning.
:-:-:-:-:
Harry had to wait two more days to put his half-formed plan into action as Dumbledore was back in the castle. Harry didn't expect that the headmaster would object to Harry reading in another language, but his search for the fae was likely to raise an eyebrow if the tone of that sentence in the healing book was anything to go by.
Harry tried to tell himself that this was a good thing since he would now be able to practice the spell and make sure that he was doing it right by the time he got around to using it for the purpose he actually needed it for.
He asked the Room of Requirement for a pair of identical books, one in English, one in a language he didn't know, and cast the spell until the two were indistinguishable to his brain. This practice meant that when he walked into the headmaster's office on the third morning to find it quiet and empty, a grin spread on his lips and Harry marched up to the bookcases.
Harry had decided to keep the wand movements minimal; if he started casting too obviously the portraits around the room might stop pretending to sleep and he still wanted to adhere to his agreement with Dumbledore not to take any of the books he read out of this office, which he would be very tempted to do if the air was filled with disapproving nagging.
With his wand hidden halfway up his sleeve Harry began casting with a murmured "allaxero". He scanned the titles of the books as they became intelligible. He got up to the fourth shelf, when his eye caught on something. Stepping closer to the bookcase he inspected the title he had noticed: Summoning the Faer Folk.
It didn't say 'fae' exactly, but it was very close. Harry took the book down and flipped it open to the first page and began reading.
The faer folk, knowne to some as the Tribe of Danú, the People of the Hills or the fae- Harry stopped and read those words again as a wave of desperate relief washed over him. Found you! he thought triumphantly.
He sat down in his usual chair, his eyes never leaving the text he was reading. Every few pages, Harry had to recast the translation spell as the words began slipping back into their native language. During one of those moments, he quickly looked at the front of the book so that he would be able to recognise the title, even when he wasn't casting. 'Gwysio Tylwyth Teg'? I wonder what language that is? It sounds almost like an incantation.
By the time Harry replaced the book on the shelf, he had read through at least the descriptions of the various kinds of fae that the author knew about. He thought that he was starting to get a feel for what a 'fae' creature was and maybe for why they were considered so dangerous. He also felt that he understood why the author of Unassailable Ailments had considered them as a last resort, or at least was starting to believe that some of these creatures might be capable of helping.
Harry considered switching back to a more combat oriented book, but decided against it. With all the new information swirling around his head, he didn't think he'd be able to focus on learning anything new. Instead he made his way up to the Room of Requirement to practice the spells he already knew and mull over which fae creature he should attempt to summon or if he could even manage it in the first place.
One thing's for sure: I need to decide quickly. We're all heading home next week.
Harry was grateful to see that Dumbledore was once again absent the next morning and settled down with Gwysio Tylwyth Teg, determined that he would decide on which fae, if any, to summon before he stood up from his chair again.
Harry started by dismissing any being that the book described as 'treacherous' or a 'trickster'. He certainly didn't want anything to do with the few creatures that demanded a human sacrifice to make their way into this world. He kept eliminating options until he was left staring at a page that described a ritual for summoning a fae that Harry didn't object to.
Seek ye out a Guardian Oak. Strike it thrice with Light through Darknesse. Showe respect. Never demand. Moste common price for any boon is service rendered. Chance of success believed to be higher at a full moon and nearest the Summer Solstice.
A spell was included for finding this 'Guardian Oak', that Harry began to study. He could work on the rest of it later in the library. For a brief moment he felt a bit like Hermione as he took notes on how to perform an obscure spell and the thought brought a small but irresistible smile to his face.
It took a conscious effort to carefully pack everything away when he was done and really wanted to hurry up to the Room of Requirement. Once inside the Room, Harry looked up the date for the summer solstice. He couldn't keep from cursing up a storm when he saw that it had been nearly a week ago. I missed it!
No… no, 'near' doesn't mean 'before'. When's the next full moon? Harry practically dove over the table the Room had provided to grab the lunar calendar. Four days… it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown down his spine. I only have four days to find one of those Guardian Oaks.
It was quickly replaced by the steel of determination. Fuck it. If I have four days, I'll make it work in four days. If I can't find a Guardian Oak in the most magical forest in Britain then I'm going to need a year to find a forest that will work anyway. He forced the worry that Hermione wouldn't be able to last a year with multiple mental breakdowns per day from his mind and got down to the business of studying the spell and ritual that he was quickly coming to view as his last hope of getting Hermione on her feet.
For the next four days Harry did not leave the Room of Requirement except to eat and sleep. Judging by Ron and Ginny's worried questions, his behaviour was not going unnoticed. In the end he had to resort to tearing at the wounds on his heart by claiming that he just needed some time alone to work through Sirius' death. It was a bald-faced lie, but it was the only thing that turned the awkward questions into whispers behind his back.
On the fourth night Harry slipped into the showers and transfigured his clothes into a passable imitation of his pyjamas. He made sure that his roommates saw him getting into bed and drew the hangings closed. It was the start of several hours of tense waiting.
Harry tried to get some sleep after setting an Alarm Charm for midnight, but the sheer weight of what he was about to try kept him tossing and turning until the charm stung him, letting him know that it was time to go.
He strained his ears, but heard only deep and even breathing patterns around him. Cautiously, he poked his head out of the curtains. Good. They've all closed their own hangings.
He slipped out of bed and pulled on his shoes, Disspelling the transfiguration he'd done on his clothes. Pulling his father's invisibility cloak over his head, Harry made his way out of Gryffindor Tower and began creeping down towards the Hospital Wing.
In the back of his mind, doubts danced and laughed at him and all the ways the night could end in disaster. Harry ignored them as best he could and focused on not tipping any portraits off to his presence.
When he got to the Hospital Wing, Harry took extra care to open the door as silently as possible so that he wouldn't alert Madam Pomfrey to his presence. He even waited in the nearest corner for a full minute to see if the door to her office would move or if it was safe for him to proceed.
Nothing even twitched.
Quietly, Harry made his way over to the only occupied bed. Reaching out, he grabbed Hermione's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. Hermione's eyes blinked open and she looked up at him. Inexplicably her eyes widened in terror and her mouth opened to let out what Harry was sure would be a scream.
He moved with all of a seeker's reaction speed and clamped a hand over her mouth, hissing out "calm down, Hermione! It's just me."
Hermione's eyes were still wide, darting around like she couldn't look at him. Finally, Harry remembered that he was wearing his cloak and shrugged it off. Hermione's gaze locked on to him the moment the invisibility cloak hit the ground. "Hwwy?" sounded from behind his hand.
"Yeah, it's just me," Harry whispered reassuringly, pulling his hand back. "Come on, we need to get out of here and we need to hurry."
"What? Why? Where are we going?" Hermione demanded, matching Harry's quiet tone.
Harry hesitated, considering whether he could tell Hermione everything without causing her to break down. "Hermione, you're in the Hospital Wing. You were hurt; badly. There's a way to make you better, but you'll need to come with me."
"Harry…"
He could see the doubts raging behind Hermione's eyes, but also the iron will fuelled by curiosity that kept those doubts from turning her into a wreck; for now. "Please, Hermione? Trust me."
"It's only been a day, Harry. Madam Pomfrey will figure this out," Hermione tried to reassure him.
"It's been nearly three weeks, Hermione."
"Wha-"
"Shh. I'll explain, but we have to keep quiet," Harry warned desperately. He waited for Hermione's nod before summarizing as quickly as he could. "We were at the Ministry, Voldemort cast a spell on you removing all your memories of magic and another to make sure that you aren't making any new memories. Madam Pomfrey hasn't been able to figure out how to undo the spells, but I've been reading in Dumbledore's personal library."
Hermione let out a mewling sound that caused Harry to pause. "The Headmaster… how many books does he have in his library?" she asked breathlessly.
"Hermione! Focus!" Harry hissed. "The point is that I found something that could help us, but not here."
Hermione studied him for a moment longer. "Alright," she nodded, throwing her covers back and swivelling around so that her legs were hanging off the side. "Let me just find my shoes."
Harry whispered a Summoning Charm and two shoes came zooming out from under the bed. Hermione stared at the magic in utter astonishment for a second before her face took on a determined cast and she pulled the shoes on. "Let's go," she demanded as she stood up.
Harry marvelled for a moment that Hermione was holding together as well as she was considering all the times she'd fallen into misery when they had been through the events at the Ministry and she realised what had been done to her.
He picked up his cloak and threw it over himself holding up one end in an invitation for Hermione to join him.
"What is this?" she asked in wonder.
"My dad's invisibility cloak. It'll keep people from bothering us as long as we're quiet."
"Couldn't we just explain what we're doing to these people?" Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. "The prefects wouldn't believe us and we are on something of a schedule here."
"Why didn't you say something about that earlier?" Hermione demanded ducking under his arm and pressing up against him. "If I don't get better because we weren't punctual I shan't forgive you, Harry Potter."
"We should be fine for now," Harry allowed with a smile. "We just can't miss the full moon."
Hermione huffed something unintelligible at him and Harry suppressed a chuckle, sure that it wouldn't go over well right now. He slipped his arm around Hermione's waist to draw her along and help her find that tricky rhythm that she wouldn't remember was necessary when two people were using the cloak together.
It took her a few minutes, but soon Hermione was moving as if she remembered all of their after-hours adventures. Harry led the way down to the ground floor and out the front doors. They moved a away from the castle until Harry pulled them to a stop, just a few metres out from the edge of the forest, and drew his wand.
"Diadhachd," he intoned solemnly, grateful for the pronunciation guide that had been included in the book. A blob of purple fire grew at the end of his wand until it dripped down and began drifting off into the distance, a clearly visible beacon for them to follow.
"Harry, what did you just do?" Hermione whispered, looking up at the trees in fear, her hands gripping his arm hard enough that he expected there would be bruises.
"It's a spell that should help us find you a cure, but honestly? I'm taking a chance on a long shot."
"That's not very reassuring."
"Maybe not, but it's all I've got at this point and nobody else had an answer for us."
Hermione was quiet for a long breath and then asked: "This isn't going to be dangerous is it?"
"You'll be completely safe, I promise." Harry knew that he was stretching the truth to breaking point. He would protect her, no matter what, but this venture was anything but safe; the book had been blisteringly clear on that point.
They walked together for over an hour, following the trail of the purple whisp until they stepped into a clearing. At the centre of that clearing stood a massive oak tree that seemed to tower over the rest of the forest. "We're here."
"Where's here?"
"If the book was right, here is where we can find people who can help us."
"But-"
"Please, Hermione, just trust me on this one." Their eyes met and eventually Hermione was the one to look away first.
"I trust you, Harry. I just- I'm worried. I have no idea what's happening and I know that you used to rely on me for that." She sounded worried, with a hint of the bitterness Harry had grown used to hearing from her when she said something like this.
He gently pulled Hermione into a hug. "It's going to be alright, Hermione. I promise, this will all seem like a bad memory tomorrow." He tried to draw back, but Hermione squeezed tighter for a moment.
Finally she relaxed her arms and looked up at him. "Okay. Let's do this."
Harry nodded and took her hand, leading her towards the tree. As they got closer Harry noticed that the ground below them was spongy with the amount of thick moss growing on it. Small flowers, colourful even when washed out by the moonlight, peeked out between the mosses to look at them. Most of the moonlight streaming down into the clearing seemed to gather around the tree, giving it a blue-green halo.
At the foot of the tree, Harry drew his wand and shot a last look at the nervous girl standing next to him. "Be ready to kneel, Hermione."
"Kneel?" she repeated incredulously, "Why?"
"You'll see." Turning back to the oak, Harry took a deep breath and struck the trunk with his wand. The impact of the small stick of holly produced a deep, carrying note that echoed out into the woods. Hermione's grip on Harry's hand became painfully tight when the sound washed over her. As it died away, Harry struck again, producing another note. He struck a third time.
As the final note died away there was a haunting stillness that lasted for a single heartbeat. The stillness shattered when the entire grove began to shake. Branches rattled and leaves shivered; the trunk of the oak thrummed rhythmically and that pulse passed through the earth to where Harry and Hermione were standing.
The misty glow that had surrounded the entire tree began to flow towards the part of the trunk where Harry's wand had struck and coalesced there, becoming more solid and concentrated.
As more and more of the light gathered, it resolved itself into a vaguely humanoid shape, if humans had ever had branches growing from their joints and head in gently sweeping boughs. When the figure opened glowing blue eyes and took a step away from the trunk of the tree Harry dropped to one knee, pulling Hermione into the same position, and bowed his head. "Hail to the Oak King," he intoned.
From above his head he heard a rumble so deep that he wasn't sure whether it was registering through his eardrums or his bones. "Child of Man, you who were born under my rule, why do you come bearing the essences of The Enemy and a Child of the Sun?"
"I've come to ask a boon, Majesty."
"You would ask, without first providing me loyal service?"
"I have no choice, Majesty. If there is a way to trade for this boon, I will do so."
"Harry! You don't even know what he'll ask!" Hermione hissed next to him.
"I'll pay it, Hermione. Whatever it is."
"Harry, don't-"
"Dormus!" Harry whispered sadly, catching Hermione as she slumped forward, unable to defend against a Drowsing Charm she couldn't even remember existed. He lowered her gently to the mossy earth before resuming his previous position. "I apologise for the interruption, Majesty."
For a moment it was quiet above him and then the deep rumble came again. "You have intrigued me, Child of Man. I will hear your request."
"The memories of the one next to me have been taken and her mind sealed. I wish to restore her."
"You cannot afford both, Child of Man. For the price you can pay, I can unlock her mind or restore her memories."
"Then unlock her mind. Hermione will take care of the rest herself," Harry decided without hesitation.
"Very well. Understand, the price you must pay is that which you value most."
"Anything!"
"Hmm…" Something tickled against Harry's mind and he resisted the urge to slap at it with his meagre occlumency. "That which you value most appears not to be an object. In exchange for freeing her mind, you must pay with your bond to this Child."
"Majesty… does that mean I'll never see Hermione again after this?"
"It does not. She will never remember the times you have spent together before this day and you will be a stranger to her. No human will remember these times, but you."
"Not even if I tell them?"
"That will only cause them pain when the memories are once again ripped from their minds. The price for my interference is not light, Child of Man; you should not mistake that."
Harry felt the idea hit him like a body blow. The idea that Hermione would look at him and not know him was painful, more painful than he could describe. It left him feeling like his life would never be complete again.
Better my life in tatters than hers. "I'll pay it," he rasped out hoarsely, his throat constricting around the words.
"Very well, Child of Man. I will restore the freedom of her mind." A hand-shaped branch, still surrounded by that misty glow, extended down past Harry and he saw one of the fingers touch Hermione on the forehead.
The glow enveloped Hermione's head and when it withdrew, Harry could see wisps of silver mixed in with the blue-green of the forest aura. Her memories, Harry thought. They look just like those strands in the pensieve.
"The deed is done and the price is paid, Child of Man." The Oak King's voice had gotten quieter and reedier, like a whisper in the wind. "She will rise to the sun's first rays. You must leave this place now."
When Harry looked up he was faced only with the oak tree as it had been when he entered the clearing. The only sound he could hear was Hermione's deep, even breathing next to him. With a sigh he got up and bowed towards the tree. "Thank you."
Not wanting to waste too much time after the Oak King's last words, Harry cast a Featherlight Charm on Hermione and picked her up. With his best friend in his arms, he began to make his way back to the castle.
Only she's not my best friend anymore, is she? Or she won't be. The thought caused him to stumble and only his determination not to pitch forward with Hermione in his arms kept him on his feet. I need to talk to Ron. Hermione's going to need help with her recovery; help from someone she can trust and I'm not going to be able to give it to her.
The trek back to Hogwarts went by much faster than Harry wanted it to. He was keenly aware that this was the last time that he would be able to hold Hermione like this. If a stranger tried to hold her close or hug her I'm sure she'd do her best to level the bastard. And to think that five years ago I was the one who freaked out about hugs. It was a bitter irony.
Despite that, Harry carried Hermione through the front doors and towards the Hospital Wing. Thankfully those doors had been charmed to swing open whenever a student approached so that he didn't have to risk dropping Hermione to get past them.
"Well, Harry, I must say that I had not expected your habit of night-time wanderings to extend past the end of term."
Harry's gaze whipped over to where the Headmaster was sitting in a chaise lounge that he had obviously conjured himself, but kept moving towards the beds. "I had something to do, Headmaster."
"Something involving Ms. Granger, clearly. Would you care to share? Or should I perhaps inform Madam Pomfrey that her only patient was without medical oversight for a full night?"
"Might as well tell her," Harry said as he lowered the girl in his arms gently onto a mattress. "She's going to figure it out anyway when Hermione wakes up tomorrow with her mind no longer sealed."
Dumbledore merely raised a single, bushy eyebrow. "I would be most interested to hear about the source of your conviction, my boy."
"It came from one of your books," Harry shrugged, "Gwysio Tylwyth Teg? No idea how to pronounce that, or read it without Hermione's translation spell."
Dumbledore had gone thoroughly pale. "Oh dear," he murmured, half to himself. "That was a bit more literary freedom than I had intended for you. I do hope that the warnings made it through the translation, though considering your actions tonight I cannot but worry."
"They made it in," Harry grunted, dropping into one of the chairs next to Hermione's bed and glancing at her. "I just figured this was worth the cost."
"For a girl you barely even know?"
Harry did his best to hide the way his heart twisted in pain. It had been his own choice and no one had forced him, but the loss was raw and this was only the first time that he had to face up to it. "Not doing anything would have been worse."
Dumbledore just raked Harry with his eyes, before letting the point drop and switching to "Who did you summon, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
"I called the Oak King."
Dumbledore hummed into his beard for a moment. "One of the more honourable, if prickly, fae as I recall," he muttered. "I suppose there is a Guardian Oak in the Forest somewhere. How did you 'call with Light through the Darkness'?"
"My wand."
"Of course!" The Headmaster seemed honestly delighted that he'd found an answer. "The holly would be the dark of his enemy and Fawkes' feather the light of fire and life. With the Summer Solstice only a week away, that would have been enough. Well found, Harry. I am sure that Ms. Granger will be equal parts grateful and impressed."
It was too much. I have to get out of here before I break down… again. "The Oak King said that Hermione would wake up when the sun comes up." Harry said as he got to his feet. "I need to go find-… her friends and warn them that… well, you know." He had almost referred to Ron and the others as 'our friends'.
"I do indeed, my boy," Dumbledore agreed quietly. "Go. I will keep watch over Ms. Granger and inform Poppy when she does her rounds. I'd like to speak with you for a moment after you've had some breakfast though. Will you come up to my office?"
Harry just nodded and slumped out of the Hospital Wing to do what he must.
AN:
I will freely admit that an office with 'bookshelves floor to ceiling' sounds absolutely heavenly. I will happily shove a place like that into my fics over and over and over again.
Right, so we all know the Rosetta Stone: same text, three languages, allowed us to begin deciphering Egyptian hieroglyphs; fantastic stuff. Also, very much not the only case of that happening in world history, even if it is the most famous. Hermione's translation spell is named after the Pyrgi Tablets which describe the dedication of a temple to 'Aštart (yes, all the squiggles are part of how we write that, seriously, be happy that there aren't any numbers in there), in both Phoenician and Eutruscan.
The reason I chose this one is because of who 'Aštart is. 'Aštart is Astarte, Ashtarot, Ishtar and Aphrodite and Venus (or at least the archetype they are all probably descended from). Fun fact: all goddesses of fertility, love, war, and the Morningstar/planet Venus. Yeah, war and love, folks… it's a wonder I chose a bilingual text about this goddess, huh? (There's an "All's fair in Aphrodite" joke in there somewhere, and I am not too good to snigger at it).
(Quick note in the author's note: the classical Greeks worshipped the gods in various aspects which they denoted with epithets, a tradition carried over from the proto-indo-european religion that was the source for everything from Hinduism to the Pantheon. For Aphrodite three such epithets (out of several) were: Aphrodite Uranea (the Heavenly Aphrodite for the kind of more spiritual/platonic love), Aphrodite Pandemos (The People's Aphrodite for what we conventionally think of as love [and of course smelling what the Rock is cooking]. Also aside from Zeus, this was the only member of the Pantheon worshipped in all of Greece) and finally Aphrodite Areia (Warrior Aphrodite for war, worshipped mostly in Sparta). You read that right: Aphrodite is a war goddess. Same thing happened in Rome which is why she's also Venus Genetrix (Venus the Mother/Birther), because she's the mother of Aeneas, ancestor of Romulus and Remus and that made her the FREAKING MOTHER OF ROME! A massive part of Julius Caesar and Augustus' propaganda was claiming that they were descended from Aeneas and thus Venus. There are more epithets that are very specific to certain regions or cults, but these were the main ones.)
Mythology is fun is what I'm trying to say.
The incantation for the translation spell is the two Greek words άλλα and ξέρω (meaning 'other' and 'I know' respectively), jammed rather artlessly together to create a phrase that could be interpreted to mean 'I know something foreign', but probably shouldn't be.
Gwysio Tylwyth Teg is Gaellic for 'Summoning the Fair Folk'. Diadhachd is Gaellic for 'divination', a subject I have finally found a use for that I like. The Tribe of Danu is the Tuatha de Danann, which is a name given to the supernatural race of beings sometimes also called Aos Sí (the People of the Hills). They are thought to be the old pantheon of Ireland that were recast as folklore by the Christian missionaries that came to the island. The Tuath Dé were fifth invaders of Ireland according to the Leabhar Gabhála Éireann (The Book of Invasions), a mytho-history of the island from the 11th century or before. The current people (well, the Gaels) are the sixth invasion.
The Oak King and the Holly King are figures that appear in several mythological cycles (though predominantly Celtic/Northern European). They are locked in an eternal battle that represents the seasons. The Oak King represents summer and the Holly King represents winter. This is why Harry's wand, made of Holly, can represent the darkness mentioned in the ritual.
The ritual is largely based on that and largely on the idea from Celtic religion that boundaries are sacred (the shore, the edge of the forest, twilight, solstices, equinoxes, a grove; things that are not entirely one thing or the other). Likewise there is a common element to many mythologies that there are prices to be paid for wishes. This is sometimes explained as keeping the balance of the universe (which segways neatly into what I think Dark Magic is, namely a third party being forced to pay the price of the magic).