8. Through the Darkness and the Shadows

"You know," Hermione grumbled to herself as she trudged up yet another hill, "This would be far easier if I were using magical transportation. I'd even take a broomstick right now." Since she had never been to this nearby town, Hermione didn't want to risk Apparition in case she splinched herself. Thus, exhausted from trekking in the woods only by wand light for nearly two hours, Hermione sat down on a fallen log.

By now, the entire cottage would be gone, she supposed; most of it had been ablaze when she had left Molyneux. Another wave of guilt crashed over her. If it hadn't been for her actions, Maurice wouldn't be homeless or alienated from his friends and family. The rotund, white-haired man had given her so much and she repaid him with heartache. The very thought dampened her spirits further. Hermione wished she were happy enough to conjure her Patronus, that way, she could comfort Maurice and maybe even learn of his whereabouts. Hermione smiled grimly. She doubted she could even conjure a whisper of silver light right now.

In the distance, Hermione heard a wolf howl. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled up. Clearly, the woods were more dangerous than she had expected. Biting her lip, Hermione left her comfortable perch on the log and began walking quickly. Another howl echoed in the forest, louder and closer this time. Hermione began to run as another wolf's wail reached her ears; it sounded mere meters away from her.

Sprinting, Hermione panted heavily, focused on escaping. She heard rapid, lithe footsteps, but Hermione wasn't sure if those footsteps were hers, or if they belonged to someone else. Soon, Hermione was out of breath, and she paused against a heavy oak tree and gasped. Yellow eyes glowed around her, and for a moment Hermione couldn't breathe at all. She clutched her satchel and wand even more tightly.

"Lumos maxima," Hermione whispered hoarsely. She scanned the landscape around her as the wolves grew closer and began to circle her. Barely twenty feet in front of her stood a colossal wrought iron gate and in desperation, praying with all her might, Hermione bounded to the gates, which offered security and protection if she could only find a way to enter.

"Alohomora!" Hermione shouted, panic in her voice; she heard fierce growls behind her, and she imagined the hot breath of the wolf pack upon her. One or two wolves Hermione could stun easily, but she wouldn't have time to stun the entire pack before one of them attacked her, making escape the only option.

The gates sprang apart, and Hermione leaped into the small gap, not waiting for them to open entirely. Silently, Hermione performed spells to shut and re-lock the gates. Just as the gates creaked shut, a wolf ran into the black metal and injuring its nose, bounded away with a yelp. Outside the gates, the wolves continued to snarl, but Hermione heaved a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. She had evaded danger for the moment.

Mist fell lightly around her in the cool night air, and involuntarily, Hermione shivered. Rubbing her arms, she noticed the coldness of her hands. Well, she would have to conjure a fire, then. As she opened her eyes, raising her wand, Hermione paused. The dwelling in front of her was not a simple house – although with gates as massive and intricate as the ones behind her, Hermione realized she should have expected the impressive mansion – no, castle – in front of her.

The castle's size reminded Hermione of Hogwarts, but unlike the castle that had been her home for seven years, this one had dark stone, and the grotesque statues lining the path to the main entrance caused Hermione to shiver again. She felt unwelcome even standing right inside the gate, but the chill now crept under her dress, and setting her face forward, chin lifted, Hermione marched up the path lined with thorny bushes and gargoyles. Someone here might now how to avoid the wolves when she left in the morning or (dare she hope it) even offer her resources to travel safely to the next town.

Climbing up the wet, stone steps, Hermione saw the majestic, but gloomy entrance. Flanked with granite gargoyles, the doors stood erect and peered down at her coldly. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she raised her hand into a fist. She certainly hoped that the master of the castle was friendlier than the exterior of his castle. Drawing up her courage, Hermione pulled out the onyx ring on the door and rapped loudly. With an uncomfortable creak, the left door opened, and with a small, nervous smile plastered on her face, Hermione stepped inside, removing the hood of her cloak.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light in the entrance hall. Her wand had dimmed after opening the gate, and it barely illuminated the space right in front of her. Biting her lip nervously, Hermione walked on the flagstone beneath her feet, trying to remain silent.

After a few moments, Hermione heard distant voices and saw a faint golden glow. Murmuring, "Nox," the wand extinguished, and she crept toward the sound and light.

"Now really, Cogsworth," a smooth voice said in flawless French, "you should know better than to enter the master's quarters uninvited." The speaker, clearly a male, spoke with slight amusement. Hermione imagined that the man was smirking.

"Lumiere," a nasally voice responded, the British accent marring his speech, "I wouldn't have entered the West Wing if you hadn't gone there first. Honestly, I only went to ensure that you and Babette didn't disturb the master."

Lumiere chuckled. "Well, excusez-moi, mon amie, but it is not my fault that you do not know how to hide."

An irate Cogsworth replied, "Well, I never, in all my days thought I'd be mocked by a paraffin-headed pea brain!"

"Well, then, mon amie, we are on the same page. I never thought I would have to listen to an over-wound pocket watch!"

By now, the voices were much clearer, and Hermione could make out a candlestick on the table nearby, seeming to glare at the immobile clock next to it. Frowning, Hermione shook her head to clear out her hallucinations (she must be more tired than she thought), grabbed the candlestick, and began to search for the mysterious Monsieurs Lumiere and Cogsworth.

"Bonjour monsieurs, je m'appelle Hermione," she said clearly. "I have travelled through the woods and chased by a pack of wolves, I ended up here. I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but I need to see the master of this castle."

"Mon dieu," a voice murmured next to her. Hermione frowned.

"Who said that?" she called.

She felt a faint tapping on her shoulder. "Over here," a voice called, but as Hermione twisted around, she saw no one, and she felt a faint warmth rise to her cheeks. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she said, "Excusez-moi, monsieur, but I do not see you."

"Look to your right, mademoiselle," the voice, which Hermione now recognized as Monsieur Lumiere's, said. She did so, only to see the candelabra in her hand. The middle candle, she noticed, had eyes, a long, protruding nose, and a cheeky smile. The candle winked.

"'Allo," he said, grinning. Hermione's eyelids fluttered in shock, and in her surprise, she dropped the candelabra. With an 'oof!' he fell to the floor and began dusting himself off. Hermione stared at the floor, pulling out her wand again.

"Lumos maxima!" Her bluish wand-light brightened the area, and Hermione could see the candelabra squinting at her. The clock she had seen on the table now hopped toward the candelabra and tilting his wooden head, looked at Hermione.

"It's a girl," he muttered to Lumiere.

"Très bien, espèce d'idiot," the wax face replied, sarcasm in his eyes. "Of course it's a girl."

"But she may be the one who-"

"Oui, Cogsworth, we shall discuss that later!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, staring at the pair of household objects. She felt a bit hopeless since the 'monsieurs' were nothing more than wax and wood. They couldn't possibly help her find Maurice.

"Well, I'll be on my way then," she said slowly, turning away from the two. "I need to find a friend of mine, and since you're unable to help me…"

"Wait, mademoiselle! I'm sure we can help you," Lumiere cried, and she heard metal clinking against the stone as he hopped toward her. "We shall ask the master if you can stay the night, and then sometime tomorrow… or later in the week, we shall take you to your friend. He has carriages of a sort, and he can protect you from the wild beasts."

"Yes," said Cogsworth, a gleam of hope in his eye, "we insist you stay the night. Tomorrow when the birds are singing and the sun is shining, it will be much easier and safer for you to travel in the forest."

Hermione looked at the two men – objects – things, well whatever they were, and with a sigh, she nodded her head. "Very well," she agreed. "However, I should like to meet the master of the castle first."

Lumiere looked uncomfortable. "Mademoiselle, that is not a good idea, you see the master has a bit of a temper, and he doesn't look kindly on-"

"Intruders," Cogsworth supplied.

Lumiere glared. "Guests, Cogsworth. Mademoiselle Hermione is a guest."

At that moment, Hermione heard a low, fierce growl from behind her. She shivered involuntarily and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She looked at Lumiere, whose waxy face now glistened with liquid paraffin. She twisted around to see what the two were staring at, but she saw only darkness.

"Oh, Master," Cogsworth began to say in a falsely bright tone, his mustache trembling, "how wonderful it is to see you, and must I say you're looking quite-" A ferocious roar caused Cogsworth to stop speaking and cling to Hermione's dress.

Wary, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a silent incantation so that light flooded the area. She gasped. On the stairs, only feet away, stood a monstrous beast, and Hermione stood still, her wand stiff in her hand. Her magic would not be any good against this grotesque creature; he was nearly as large as Hagrid. Half-man, half-beast, his piercing blue eyes narrowed, and his dark, thick fur quivered in rage.

The Beast growled, "Who are you and what are you doing in my castle?" He stared with suspicious and accusing eyes at Hermione, and painfully, she swallowed the venomous words that she threatened to vomit.

"My name is Hermione," she said in a clear, if shaking voice, "and I was travelling through the woods when a wolf pack began to chase me. To escape them and my death, I entered your gates and sought sanctuary."

"I do not offer you sanctuary. You are an intruder, a trespasser, probably a thief," the Beast spat, now on all fours on the stairs. He leaped and stood only a meter from Hermione, glaring at her with a growl.

Gripping her wand, Hermione glowered back. "Well, then," she said in a cold voice, "I'll just leave." She turned around and began to stomp across the stony corridor back toward the door. As she reached the entrance, she heard Lumiere and Cogsworth, clacking across the ground.

"Master, please, she might be the girl. Don't send her from the castle."

"Oui, monsieur, she may be our last hope."

Another low, irritated growl, and she saw the swish of the Beast's cape as he circled around her. As Hermione reached to pull open the door, she saw that the Beast blocked the entrance, standing against it, a look of desperation quickly covered by annoyance and anger in his pale eyes.

"Let me through," Hermione said, a cold stare in her usually warm brown eyes, "I should leave. It was a mistake coming here." The Beast, however, did not budge. Hermione began to grow impatient and crossed her arms against her chest.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

The Beast glared at the floor, and with his fangs gritted, spat, "I want you to stay the night. I'm offering you sanctuary until tomorrow… and longer if you need it," he added after Lumiere nudged him. He looked at Hermione, irritation clear from his haughty sniff. She stared at him icily, still gripping her wand.

"You're very convincing," she replied at last, raising her eyebrows in condescension.

Silence echoed in the corridor.

"Well, mademoiselle," Lumiere said after a moment, "perhaps you would like to see your room, oui? Cogsworth and I shall escort you, and the master will retire for the evening." As Hermione began to follow the clock and candelabra away from the stone doors, the Beast bounded away to the other side of the castle, his maroon cape swirling as he fled the entrance hall.

"Please feel free to explore the castle," Lumiere said to Hermione as he continued to hop. Even in the dim light, Hermione could see that the staircase they were climbing was magnificent with a plush crimson carpet beneath them.

"However," said Cogsworth in a clipped voice, "do not go to the West Wing of the castle. Your rooms are on the east side of the castle as are the library and the gardens."

Hermione turned to the clock, distracted from looking at her surroundings. "What's in the West Wing?"

"The master's private quarters, mademoiselle," Cogsworth said, now polishing himself as they walked.

Hermione remained silent, unsure what to think, as they came to a narrow hall. They walked to the end and Lumiere gestured to the door with one of his hand-candlesticks. "This, Mademoiselle Hermione, is your room while you stay with us." Turning the crystal knob, Hermione pushed open the heavy oak door, and gasped in amazement at her room.

A large king-sized bed with a gauzy periwinkle canopy greeted her, and the lush navy blue carpet underfoot comforted her aching feet. A vanity stood against the wall where the door was, and an armoire stood against the opposite wall. Hermione noticed vaguely that the armoire expanded and contracted, as though it was breathing. She looked around the rest of the room and saw ornate scrollwork on the walls, expensive paintings, and gilded furniture. She sank to the bed, overwhelmed, and continued to stare around. Lumiere and Cogsworth hopped into the room behind her.

"Mademoiselle Hermione," Lumiere began from his spot on the floor, "we hope you will be happy here with us. Please sleep as long as you need to, and the master requests your presence for a light lunch at noon." He glanced at the two French doors over by the armoire. "It is almost dawn, so if you need more sleep, mademoiselle, we simply ask that you join the master for dinner instead."

Hermione nodded, and silently, the two servants took leave of her and hopped out the door.

Standing up to close the door to the room, Hermione glanced at the French doors opposite her. Framed with the same gauzy material from her canopy, the windows in the doors let in a pale golden-blue light. Frowning, she walked over to the doors, opened them, and stepped outside into the crisp morning air.

Standing on a balcony that overlooked the gardens, Hermione could see a fountain beneath her, spewing glassy water from a mermaid's mouth, and an intricate maze of hedges that surrounded it. She sighed with contentment, but the sigh turned into a yawn, and she stretched as the sun peeked over the horizon, a deep crimson, with orange and gold at its edges.

As she rubbed her eyes, Hermione stared at the scarlet fireball, sleep threatening to overcome her. With another yawn, she turned from the balcony and entered her bedroom, shutting the doors behind her. She had left her satchel and wand on the bed. Pushing them off, she undressed, and within a moment, had fallen asleep.

Birds began chirping outside, their usually somber song filled with hope and joy.

FRENCH:

mon amie = my friend

Très bien, espèce d'idiot = very good, you idiot.