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Chapter 8: Questions Beget More Questions

Fedyor tells her some story about the time a cat got into the training yard and eluded everyone until it walked straight into Botkin's arms. Hermione can't help but laugh. She can picture it clearly. It would be something Crookshanks would do.

It's a distraction tactic but it's not for her. It's for everyone they pass. People watch her carefully because of her new position and they can't actually talk about the things they planned until they're alone. The garden is perfect for it.

When they finally walk without passing multiple people, Fedyor speaks again. "Tell me of your world."

Hermione sighs. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you want to tell me."

She considers it carefully before she falls back on the same topic they spoke of on the way here. "I had a cat. His name was Crookshanks. He...he was the ugliest cat I've ever seen," she laughs softly, "but he was mine. He was the smartest cat I've ever known and he...he knew people. Great judge of character."

"He sounds wonderful," Fedyor says. "What colour was he?"

"Orange. He had this squished up face like this." She scrunches up her face and puts her hand in front of it, pretending to squeeze it. "I adored him even though no one else did. I sent him with my parents when I moved them away. An extra level of precaution for both of them. When I...when I went to pick them up, he recognized me instantly. Even when they didn't." She made the right choice when she picked him up in the Magical Menagerie. Crookshanks was the best. He had been one of her early warnings on Ron, if only with the reaction to the idea that her cat had murdered his rat. Which, in hindsight, he should have been grateful for since he was the one sleeping in the same bed as an animagus.

"Was he a gift?"

She laughs. It sounds almost hollow to her but she smiles regardless. "Everyone thought I was crazy when I picked him out. What about you? Do you have any pets?"

"Alas, I do not. Such things are not...common in the Little Palace. Too much to clean," he teases.

"Be glad you don't have owls then," she quips back.

He looks at her in total confusion. "Owls?" His eyes narrow. "You're making this up!"

"I am not!" She says with a slight laugh. She glances around quickly, making sure no one is in hearing distance, before she nods. "They mainly carried mail but some people kept them as pets."

He blinks quickly and she can practically see him thinking through it. "But...they are so small. How would they carry it?"

"Sometimes it was tied to their legs but usually they held it in their talons. Especially packages."

"Packages?" He looks at her in surprise. "How large?"

"If it was big enough, multiple owls would carry it."

"I don't see how that is possible," he shakes his head. "Even with magic. How did nobody see?"

She smiles back at him. "With magic," she quips.

The look he gives her belongs on Ivan's face and she can't help but laugh. "Tell me about you. You are a Heartrender, correct?"

"I am."

"Tell me about that." It's a safe topic if anyone comes near them. "How does it work? You use your hands, correct?"

"We do," he nods. "Both hands are needed to create the signs."

She frowns, thinking about it. "Is it impossible to do it with one hand?"

He pauses. "No, but it is close to it."

Her mind starts to race. There has to be a way to test that limit and push past the assumption that both hands, or indeed any hands at all, are necessary to channel small science from their core. Wandless magic is not widely taught in Britain, but magicals have always existed and practiced through a variety of means all over the world. She assumed that it had to do with the indoctrination of the public as to the requirement of wands. It was only as she got older that she realized it was a method of controlling the populace through the fear of discovery due to the registration and tracing of wands. It also kept people comfortably mediocre by discouraging curiosity about alternate methods of channelling magic, methods that could not be so easily controlled.

It's the reason blood magic fell out of favour in Britain despite the potential in it, though it remains popular in many other parts of the world. No one back home would listen to her research without recoiling and warning her away from so-called dark magic. That didn't stop her though. As long as it was her blood or freely given she saw no reason to label a whole branch of magic as dark. Discovery and innovation are not made through narrow-minded thinking or slavish devotion to tradition, after all.

"You can hear heartbeats anywhere?"

"It would depend on the scope of one's power," he says. "Generally, the person has to be in sight."

She stops. "Why?"

"Why what, Ms. Grankova?"

"Why do they have to be in sight? You can hear a heartbeat from a distance, wouldn't that be enough to...control it? You can't see the organs you're trying to affect, so why does it matter if you can see the target or not? Unless you are concerned about getting the wrong one and there are multiple people about."

"That would be a problem," he says lightly.

"We could test it," Hermione offers. "If you would grant me the opportunity to run some tests...just measurements."

He stares at her for a moment before he grins. "You should meet David!"

"Who?"

"There you are." They both look back to see Ivan storming towards them. Judging on how they left him, she knows it's far more likely that he is upset at the General than them.

"Ah, Ivan. How is our esteemed General?"

Ivan does not scowl but she catches the tension in his jaw. "He is well. The situation is…"

"I imagine it is difficult to be in such a situation," Hermione says quietly as she cuts him off. "He must be under a lot of stress acting not only as the General of the Second Army but with my arrival as well." She keeps it vague, just in case someone is listening. Her years of fighting have taught her to be careful.

"Finding the Sun Summoner is a blessing as well as a burden," Fedyor says softly. "I imagine that the General is weighted by the expectations of what you will do for Ravka and Grisha...and he is the one who will answer to those in power when they ask how soon things will be done."

"Without offering anything in aid," Ivan adds.

Fedyor nods and they both look at Hermione. Harry was weighed down by the expectations pushed against him, but she imagines that this is not quite the same. Kirigan is under more than the pressure of action. Regardless, she has been in similar predicaments before. She knows what it is to be expected to lead the supposed saviour to their fate.

She takes a moment before she speaks. "I can't promise to succeed in the tasks laid before me, but I will strive to ease this burden. The General made me a promise. I can't have him fading away before he can keep it."

Fedyor grins at her. Ivan nods, his expression still stoic. He approves though. She can tell that much.

"Come now," Fedyor says, offering her his arm again. "You must meet David." He leads her to the path out of the gardens.

"David?" She glances between them as Ivan walks on her other side. "Who is David?"

"Just wait."


David, as it turns out, is an inventor.

It isn't quite that simple, of course. He is what they called a Fabrikator. He specializes in metal and bone and helps create things like the reinforced cloth that makes up the keftas they all wore. The man is quiet but in a different way to Ivan.

He has a calming presence, even as he gets excited at showing her his latest creations. All Hermione has to do to get him to open up is ask questions.

Fedyor and Ivan leave her in David's care as he starts to explain just how Grisha steel is different from regular steel. David seems the type to be an ideal research companion. Someone who would build on her ideas and help her bring them to life. As long as she knows the right questions to ask.

"I want to test Grisha's abilities," Hermione says, once he is done explaining how he had assisted a Grisha in claiming their amplifier. The process was fascinating but not one she can replicate without more research. "I was speaking to Fedyor earlier about his abilities as a Heartrender. He said that in order to use his abilities, having sight of the person is necessary. Is it the same for you?"

David didn't look at her as he answered. "I work with materials not...people."

She thinks about that for a moment. "Are you limited to what is in sight or what you're touching?"

He pauses before turning towards her. "Not entirely. I would be able to...sense something that I made. It would depend on the material that it is made of." Was he capable to continue to influence an object he made...even at a distance?

It occurs to her at that moment that David might be able to sense changes she's made on things. Perhaps he could sense her magic. She makes a mental note to bring in a selection of transfigured and enchanted items next time. Just to see if he can tell that something is off or what it was originally made of.

Hermione is going to enjoy working with David. She can tell already. Unfortunately, she does not get the opportunity to explore further with him as he is called away.

Fedyor is still there when she leaves, though Ivan appears long gone. He smiles at her. "I knew you would enjoy meeting him."

"I did, thank you," she says. Her mind is still running over the possibilities that have arisen from the meeting. It does not distract her from the fact that she still needs to speak with the General. She also needs to take down the wards she placed on his room. "I need to see the General. Please."

"I do not know if he is welcoming company," Fedyor warns.

"It will be fine," Hermione says. She is used to emotional turmoil in men. Merlin knows she's suffered Harry's tantrums enough in Hogwarts. Not to mention Ron's arguments as they got older.

Fedyor does not look convinced but he leads her back regardless.


The General is still in his suite when they arrive. It saves her from tracking him down.

"I am not in the mood for company, Ms. Grankova," he says once he realizes they are not there on business.

"I did not ask," she replies. Despite his hesitation, he still lets her in. Fedyor lingers at the door until Kirigan snaps.

"Do you not have duties to attend to?"

"Leave him alone," Hermione says. "It's not his fault you're in a bad mood." She looks around the room. She can still feel her magic here. The silencing charm and the warning ward are still in place.

"I am not in a bad mood," he says.

"Your tone says otherwise," she points out. "What's got your knickers in a twist?" She uses one of George's phrases and it's worth it just to see the expression on his face as he turns to her confused.

"My what?"

She sighs. "What is wrong?" She clarifies. "I am aware that we are not friends but we are allies and while we do not know each other well, I highly doubt the General of the Second Army is someone with a death wish."

"I do not-"

"You used dittany on yourself without knowing the effects!" she snaps. "You do not understand my magic or anything from my world. You do not know everything that could have gone wrong! I will not be blamed for your incompetence with yourself."

"You go too far." His tone was dark, laced with warning. She ignored it.

"I push as needed! We agreed to communicate, Kirigan. Especially when it comes to unnecessary risk. In fact, it was you who demanded we be partners in this. Now I will ask you again. What is your problem?"

"You know nothing!" he snarls at her.

"I know more than you about the things I carry!" she snaps back. If she pushes him hard enough, he will break. She is not worried about his anger. She's used to anger and frustration but her boys always gave things away when they reached their breaking point. She couldn't fix things until she knew what was wrong.

He does not answer.

Hermione sighs, suddenly feeling older than she is. She is too tired for this. "Look, if you refuse to confide in someone, write it out for yourself. Burn it. Spread the ashes to the wind, just release whatever is barring you from thinking clearly. We need to work together in this."

He runs a hand down his face. "I am aware, Ms. Granger."

"Good. In the meantime, I expect you to pour me a drink if I am to deal with these continuous moods of yours."

He stares at her for a moment before he moves. He opens a small cabinet and pulls two glasses. "I trust you can handle your alcohol along with your magic."

"You have no idea." She had never attempted to learn the process of firewhiskey, but it would likely be amusing to see Kirigan try it. Or Ivan.

He hands her a glass filled with a clear liquid. "Za."

"Nazdrave." She lifts it in salute before she takes a sip. It burns in a familiar way. She takes a longer one. She grins slightly. "Shall we play a game?"

[tbc]