a/n: This idea has been a lot of fun to write and explore. Co-written with elliesmeow. I brought her the idea of someone being trapped in the Little Palace because they've been too good at conning people that some felt they were a legit psychic (like Shawn Spencer from Psych). She brought in the idea of Hermione. This is the result.
We hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 1: The Prediction
"The General requests your presence."
She tries not to sigh. Of course, he does. She had just found a mention of a forbidden power in one of their religious texts that might hold the key she's been looking for to get home. The man has demanded her presence every fortnight since their first meeting. Despite her insistence that she can not actively or accurately predict events, she is not allowed to remain undisturbed for long in the Little Palace.
He is certain she conceals some 'small science'. The General quizzes her about her history and family. He asks for predictions in an attempt to prove a point that he has not let her in on yet or to discover the source and limit to her power. Both of them are playing a high-stakes game for information. Winner take all.
Hermione has power, it's just not theirs. Her arrival here was unplanned and while she wasn't entirely certain of the reasoning for it, she knew the cause. Dolohov. He had been there at the end, focused on her Some say that he was seeking revenge for surviving his favourite curse. The book, reeking of his magic that was so oddly familiar after suffering under it for months, placed in Hogwarts where it was sure to be brought to her attention, was the key. If only it had arrived with her. But Hermione had landed alone. While she was able to keep her wand and beaded bag that the war taught her to never go anywhere without, survival dictated that she not reveal either to the people here.
Her intelligence had kept her and her friends alive through the years and she wielded it as a weapon. The only gifts she allows these Ravkans to truly see are her quick hands. Years of practicing wand movements have translated well. Her fast thinking and keen observation skills have allowed her to build her skills in reading people. It helps that she can map arithmetic equations and statistics in her head. She used them to convince people here to part ways with their money. It is less dangerous than memory charms, at least here it is. She was trying to keep a low profile while she figured out how to get home.
The only reason that the Powers That Be became aware of her is that she had conned the wrong person and got caught. She managed to talk her way out of it, without resorting to her magic, but whatever she had said had proven true. The oprichniki found her and dragged her to the palace, determined to discover the source of her predictions. She withstood the Crucio curse from one of Voldemort's best and knows how to resist the Imperio. Their Heartrenders gain nothing she does not want them to know. They decided she was special and notified their General of their discovery even without knowing her secrets. Their faith did not allow them to accept that she was mundane.
She follows the messenger through empty hallways and on the way, tries to slip into the persona they keep expecting. One that is less Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the age and one-third of the Golden Trio, and more of a commoner that belongs on their streets. It's the same one she used on the wayward that she drew into her web.
She is led to his war room.
It is tempting, so tempting to slip away and journey to the archives at Ketterdam where she might have better luck searching freely. She could do so easily with a simple charm, but it is far more difficult when she is monitored. A Heartrender would find her by her pulse before she got far if she did not use more extreme magic. She is trying to avoid that. She does not need to raise any more suspicion.
The General is waiting by his map table. A quick glance out the window tells her someone is making ready to leave quickly. Something has set the Little Palace aflutter and it reminds her for a moment of when her boys and she arrived in the Room of Requirement. She has not heard any rumours, people here are careful to avoid her unless they seek some kind of answer, but something has happened. They are excited.
"General," she greets once the messenger leaves her with a bow to them both. The man was tall and slim and yet somehow commands the attention of everyone. It isn't just that he is the General, leading their armies, or the simple charisma of a handsome man. There is something else about him. Something that makes her want to show her teeth, acknowledging a fellow wolf rather than the sheep that surround them. Every instinct she has tells her to run from him or at least, not take her eyes off of him.
"There you are." He looks pleased to see her. Everyone in this place fears and reveres this man. She's not sure if it is her years fighting in her war back home, but somehow she sees the constant calculation they blind themselves to. The glint in his eyes, the meticulous facade he keeps up at all times and the way his jaw clenches when things do not go his way. Like when she tells him things he does not want to hear before she finds some way to pacify him.
"What do you want?" she asks. She has long since lost her unquestioning faith and respect in authority figures. She doubts he'll change that. Not when he's the reason she is kept in near-total isolation, coming up against delay after delay, brought books only vaguely matching the criteria she asks for and unable to search on her own as she wishes. The man moves people like puppets. There is no doubt her every request is reported back to him in full and he holds her current fate in his gloved hands. She heard rumours before she was taken here that the lifespans of Grisha are like the wizards back home. He's far older and even more powerful than he appears, she's certain of it.
"Tell me," his voice is smooth. If she was any less experienced in the ways of the world, she might have been charmed. Tom Riddle was charming until he wanted you dead. Dumbledore too, even as he used you up for his Greater Good. She did not expect anything different from him. "What am I going to find?"
He always did that. His questions were as open-ended as the answers she liked to give were. It became a quiet battle between them of who would ask for more information first.
She stares at him for a moment, thinking quickly. He is dressed to ride but there is a sense of anticipation of hope in the air. The others outside all speak excitedly, though she cannot hear what they're saying. She mentally runs the statistical averages of her guesses before calculating them through an arithmetic equation. It brings her to one possible answer.
"Exactly what you expect," she says. "Something you've been waiting for, I gather." She does not know for certain but her calculations are rarely wrong anymore. She bases it on the movement around them, the way his feet shift slightly and the questions he has asked her in the past. If she is right, then it works in her favour and she avoids any punishment he may decide to hand down. If she is wrong, then perhaps he will finally agree that she is a fraud and allow her freedom once she survives his disappointment.
A pleased look enters his eyes at her words...and something like relief. "I hope you're right," he says. She's not ashamed to admit if only to herself, that she hopes she is wrong just to see the infuriating man denied and disappointed.
"General," she says just before he moves to dismiss her back to her room under escort. "A word to the wise."
He raises his eyebrow, nodding for her to continue.
"Sometimes what you hope for does not work in your favour. If you're not careful, it will slip through your fingers."
His eyes narrow at her. "A prediction?" he asks.
"I don't predict," she reminds him. Not that she would need to. Not for this. "It's common knowledge that is found in tales throughout history. Surely you are aware of that."
His jaw clenches, and she's not sure if it's at the slight insult or the veiled threat. Maybe both.
"Hope that you are wrong," he warns her. She nods as if she agrees with him. He calls to the guard to escort her back, and she leaves as silently as she came.
She's not sure what prompted the warning. Guilt for her petty behaviour perhaps. It's not been terrible here. A clean bed, safety, plentiful if plain food, and books upon request, even if they aren't the ones she really wants. It is likely because she chafes at the lack of freedom and his satisfaction in holding the upper hand over her. He should not have everything he desires, not when she is restricted at his whim. It is not that she is unaware or unsympathetic of the plight he has told her that the Grisha face, she just does not take kindly to being locked away no matter how pretty the cage. Besides, she is well aware of the risk she's running in a highly religious society that already resents any hint of magic or Small Science in its populace. There can be no safety in being unique among such individuals.
If her guess is right, which it is based on her calculations, he might be inclined to assign her a guard to ensure that she remains under watch at all times…to protect an asset after he gets over his disappointment at losing his currently sought prize. She glances around. She is not able to escape when he is around. She knows he is powerful, she can practically feel it, and he wields shadows with ease. It's an ability that she barely understands and cannot yet counter. It is not as though she has trained against him or encountered anything like it before. Normally she would be fascinated and wanting to dive into research, but she has a much greater need now. There are people coming and going, and his absence buys her time. She is not likely to be missed right away. It gives her an opportunity that was not there before. While they are all distracted, she can finally make a more thorough search of the library of the Little Palace.
[tbc]
