Chapter Two
Melok sat at his desk, first thing in the morning, composing a short letter to one of his oldest associates. Doctor Watson would be one hundred and eight years old this October, if memory served - not that he looked it by a stretch - and was one of the more unusual Muggles Melok had ever had the privilege of knowing. Of course, Melok wasn't certain that a man who had Vampire blood running through his veins truly qualified as a Muggle, per se, but he was no Wizard, either, and given his lack of Wizarding lineage, it wasn't like he was a Squib, either. Watson was something else. He was something, as their mutual associate Doctor Helen Magnus would say, Abnormal. Mages fell into the category of abnormal themselves. They were more than Wizards and Witches, but they weren't monsters. The fact that they so often become Obscurials, ranging free and with no regard for the Statute of Secrecy, was why Melok was obligated to report the existence of one to Watson and Magnus, as their domain was to track all things Abnormal, and a Mage certainly was that.
With a flourish, he signed the letter, rolled up the parchment, and handed it off to his Owl. "Here Byron," he greeted his messenger. "Take this to James Watson at the London Sanctuary, will you?"
Byron hooted softly, then took the letter and flew off, leaving Melok to his thoughts, which at the present were fairly centered on the Mage who had waltzed into his life yesterday afternoon.
Hermione Granger.
What an odd Witch. Melok had thought it one in a million when Genia had walked into his life, unafraid to speak with him as an equal, and to touch him. Hermione had suggested nothing but friendship between herself and his counterpart, however she'd spoken only of him and not of Genia, so he suspected strongly that be it the war in that world or simple age, Genia had been dead where she came from, freeing him to engage in other relationships. Hermione might be with Sirius Black in the present, but Melok couldn't help but wonder if something had occurred between her and his counterpart prior to that, or in spite of it, although he was loath to suspect the latter. Fidelity between romantic partners was something Goblins took very seriously, although they were less fastidious about it before vows were spoken in the course of a wedding. That did not mean they weren't very hesitant to come between a courting couple.
A Goblin's undeniable urge to adhere to a vow was why the Wizarding kind trusted them with their banking needs. Unlike Witches and Wizards in general, Goblins didn't require any sort of complicated wand waving to seal vows of trust: their word was their bond, and when it was put down on paper it was even more binding, as all banking things were. For centuries, this had been a trust established and proven between Goblin and other magical folk, and Melok knew full well that there were very few things in life that could usurp the magic which held a Goblin to their vows.
There was something about Hermione, though, he had to admit. There was an affection in her eyes that spoke of more than friendship, and Melok couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just wishful thinking on his part. In fact, it would be better for him, given his own marriage, if she didn't see him in that manner. He certainly didn't need the complication in his life of another Witch who saw beyond his Goblin exterior into the man within, as love was one of the few things that could break through a Goblin vow. Gods knew that it had been intoxicating enough to him when it had happened with Genia. He didn't imagine, if Hermione Granger continued to look at him the way she had yesterday, how much it would draw him to her, and he admitted to himself that it made him both wary and all the more intrigued.
The wise part of him told him to walk away from this woman before she could further complicate his life. Duty reminded him that he was Melok, son of Drelok, of the line of Filok, and it was on the family honor to train this Mage. Eighty generations of his family had been raised and had traditions passed down, knowledge and ideals carried on, all for the purpose of training Mages. He could not walk away from this young Witch. It went against everything he was born to do. The bitter part of him realized that this was true even if it meant that ultimately, he was drawn to this unusual woman in a romantic manner, and even if they entered into an affair, and even if it cost him Genia… training the Mage was still more important. He wanted to think that Hermione's own vow to Sirius Black would hold her back, but he knew that was foolish. Centuries worth of journals written by other Mages told him that a Mage was rarely monogamous.
Duty first. Melok wanted to hate Hermione Granger for what he already knew she could do, and how he could already see she could turn his world upside down. He really wanted to hate her, but as he closed his eyes and remembered the way her brown eyes softened when she looked at him, the Goblin let out a pitiful sigh as he realized he was already fighting a losing battle. He didn't love her. He didn't. He didn't bloody know the Witch yet, so how could he? He did know that if he let himself, he could. He could know her, and if that happened, damn it all, loving her might very well be an inevitability.
Melok punched a wall, mentally swearing to himself that he could have the best of both worlds. Just because she wasn't prone to be monogamous did not mean that her probable infidelity had to be with him. He could love Hermione as a friend only, and not allow her to cross that line with him, no matter what she might feel toward him, if she felt anything beyond friendship at all. He could train her up, be her rudder as she needed him to be, and he could still be a faithful husband to his beautiful, wonderful wife. He could, he swore, hitting the wall again.
The Goblin looked at his now bloody knuckles with a sneer. He considered healing them, but decided that he was better off with the reminder for the rest of the day and after rinsing the plaster out of the wound in the washroom sink, Melok finished dressing for the day, kissed Genia goodbye, and was through the Floo and into Gringotts' staff lounge. Typically speaking, one wasn't allowed to Floo directly to the bank, but privileged staff members were given access and given Melok's personal specialty in the issue of Mages and Warding, he had such privilege.
It was only seven thirty, and he was fairly certain that his friend and Herbology Master, Angus Steward, would already be in his office by now, assuming the American Wizard had even left the evening before. He was known for getting caught up in his research and pulling all-nighters more often than not, eventually crashing on a cot in his office sometime the following afternoon for a few hours so he could make it through the rest of the following work day. A brisk walk down the corridor which held a number of offices found Melok entering room twenty-four, and to no surprise, Angus was bent over some papers at his desk. He rapped on the door lightly. "Good morning," he greeted.
The Wizard looked up. "Gracious, is it morning already?"
"Afraid so," Melok replied, smirking. "Another all nighter?"
"So it seems," came a begrudging admission. "What can I help you with, Melok?"
"An issue which would require your utmost discretion, my friend," he admitted.
"Most issues with you Goblins require the utmost discretion," Angus teased. "Hell, I'd be hard pressed to come up with a time when one of you showed up with a job and told me I was free to go bragging about it. You know full well I can keep my gob shut, man. What do you need?"
Melok came into the office and closed the door behind him, which did get Angus' attention. He might be used to the way Goblins did business, but Melok's decision to close the door meant he was keeping whatever this was even from other Goblins, and Angus knew it. "I've been approached by a young Mage," he confided. "She has three Masteries already, but one of the two she is still missing is Herbology. Of all the Grandmasters in the field, I'd trust you the most to train her."
"Stable? No indication she's going to go all Obscurial on us?" Angus asked seriously, all signs of his jovial nature now gone. Most of the time, the Herbologist was very relaxed, but even he knew a Mage could be dangerous.
"I met the woman yesterday," he confessed. "While admittedly that is very little time in which I could assess, I have reason to believe she is, in fact, stable. She'd not have already achieved three of the core subjects, in addition to another Mastery, if she was unstable."
Angus studied him. "There's more reason you think she checks out, but you don't want to tell me."
"Not my secret to tell," Melok admitted. "She may opt to tell you herself, but I will not share things that are not mine to share. The fact that she opted to trust me is something I'm not taking lightly, as she very well could have opted to train herself independently, and we both know how disastrous it tends to be when a Mage attempts to self-train."
"They tend to end up becoming Obscurials," Angus said with a sigh, nodding in agreement. "I know, Melok. Alright then, when do I meet the girl?"
"I'm meeting her shortly to help her get some paperwork sorted here at the bank," he admitted. "I'd prefer to introduce you off premises and away from the eyes of Gringotts. What we need to do here should only take an hour or so. How about meeting us at the Leaky Cauldron at ten thirty?"
Angus flicked his wand and set an alarm. "I'll get lost in work otherwise, you know I will," he said in explanation with a wry grin.
"I'll feed you at the Leaky," Melok offered with a smirk. "Gods, man, it's no wonder you're as skinny as a rail. You wouldn't remember your own head if it wasn't attached to your body, or to do anything else that isn't related to work if you didn't set an alarm to remind you."
"That's what I have my friends for," the middle aged Wizard said genially. "Also, why I don't have a wife."
"Ironic considering what you're obsessing over is genealogy," Melok observed. "How can you be so keen on finding out about your family roots but have no care for ensuring your family line continues?"
Angus shrugged. "I have time for carrying on the family line, if I decide it's worth it. Grew up hearing a lot of odd stories about what the family left the United Kingdom for. Some say it was just for the adventure, some say it was a marriage arrangement, and some say she was running away from something. Isolt Sayre and her parents are as far as I can track anything, though. Records just damn well stop. I can't even figure out what her mother's name was before she married."
"Genealogy is not my area, my friend," Melok shrugged. "I've already pointed you toward anyone remotely helpful."
"I know, I know," the Wizard sighed. "It's just frustrating. Get out of here. I'll see you in a few hours."
Melok was out on the front steps of Gringotts a few minutes later, and it didn't take long to spot Hermione Granger and Sirius Black. She'd been right. Her betrothed did resemble his forebearer a great deal. The Transfiguration would be minor, although still necessary, especially in regard to his age. This man appeared to be at least a decade or two younger than the man he was meant to be portraying, and while Wizards aged slowly, that did not make them ageless.
"Melok," Hermione greeted. "Good morning."
"Hermione," he replied with a soft smile. "You must be Mister Black."
"Yeah, that's me," the Wizard said with a grin. "I'd say 'nice to meet you,' but I already have, from my perspective. Nice to see you alive, well, and fifty fucking years younger, although I don't think I appreciated how slowly Goblins aged until now. How about that? 'Mione says you're handling this shite pretty well though, so that's good."
Melok looked at Hermione. "Is he always this…" the Goblin couldn't find the right word. Cocky. Brash. Ill spoken. Obnoxious?
"He's a work in progress," Hermione said with a sigh. "Shall we go get everything sorted? Were you able to get in touch with the Herbology Master you mentioned?"
"I was," the Goblin replied, ushering them forward, trying his best not to sneer at Mister Black. "We're meeting him at the Leaky at ten thirty. It shouldn't take too long to get everything here taken care of."
"Excellent," Black said cheerfully. "We really damn appreciate it, mate."
This Wizard was going to grate on his nerves if he didn't start speaking like a gentleman and cease talking like a street urchin sometime soon. Honestly! "This way," Melok sighed.
The pair followed him inside the bank, and down the hall into office twelve, where they met with the Transfiguration Grandmaster that Gringotts had on retainer. Melok tossed the old Wizard a few Galleons to keep him from asking much in the way of questions, and he quickly adjusted Sirius' features to more closely mimic the features of his great-grandfather's, using a photo Melok had procured as reference, and then overlaid the spellwork to make the Transfiguration permanent. Once that was complete, the trio moved to leave, although Hermione paused at the door.
"Obliviate," she whispered, pointing her wand at the Transfiguration expert who'd just helped them.
"Was that entirely necessary?" Melok asked once they'd moved away from the office. "He'd have held his tongue."
"Perhaps he would have," Hermione agreed, handing him back the Galleons he'd used to pay the Transfiguration Master. "However, now I needn't worry about whether he will or won't. I am assured that he has no recollection of the procedure, and therefore can not be paid off to speak of it should anyone ever come asking questions. Don't forget, Melok, that I'm playing the long game here. I cannot afford anyone to discover Sirius wasn't born Sirius Black the second this year, five years from now, or forty years from now. You, I know and trust to keep my secrets. That man is a wild card that was wholly unnecessary."
He understood her position and in her place, he might have done the same. Ultimately, no real harm was done. Finished with the facial reconstruction, Melok guided his companions toward the President's office. "Mister Black," he said, addressing Sirius, "I would strongly urge you to remember that in the present era, a man of your station would be well spoken and proper in his bearing. I cannot say, where you come from, if it was commonplace to speak in such a rough manner as you have been up to this point, but if you continue to speak that way in front of the Gringotts President, you will tip your hand."
Black had the grace to look admonished. "Understood. Fair point, Melok."
Melok was admittedly impressed as Sirius Black managed to shift his bearing and speech patterns almost immediately, going from acting like a street rat to acting like a Lord of a Pureblood House in the space of half a minute. Either he was a hell of an actor or he had been raised in such an environment and merely needed to reach toward his roots. If what Hermione had said was correct and he really was Sirius Black the third, then Melok figured it was the latter. Perhaps this charade was not doomed to fail.
Between recognizing the patron he'd not seen in two years, and being presented with both the owner's wand and signet ring, the Gringotts President, Trintok, had been fairly easy to convince of the tale they were spinning, and seemed pleased to welcome Sirius Black, supposedly the second, back from the proverbial dead, granting him access to the Black family vaults. Sirius asked him not to take Arcturus off as Head of the family just yet, until he'd spoken to his son, but did go to the vault to get some gold. Melok advised, after they finished at Gringotts, that Hermione and Sirius go to some shops in Diagon Alley and update their robes before going to meet Angus, which Sirius groaned at but Hermione found to be a perfectly sensible plan. What they were wearing at present was merely Transfiguration of what clothing they'd been wearing when they'd come from wherever the hell it was they'd come from.
Melok watched with interest as Hermione burned her and Sirius' old clothing after they were both changed into the new robes. "This should be it, then," she mused. "The last of the evidence to suggest we come from elsewhere."
"Do you intend to tell Mister Steward of your origins?" he inquired. "I opted against telling him more than was necessary. I merely told him you were a Mage who was new to the area and in need of training, and that I had reason to believe you were stable."
"Stable, as in not at risk of becoming an Obscurial?" she asked for clarification. "Or stable as in my mental well-being?"
He laughed. "I had been referring to your magical stability," he admitted. "However I've not gotten indication you're mentally unwell, either. Even if your story is a bit mad, you know things you could not know unless your story had a basis in truth. I do wish you'd tell me more about this other world you come from. It would make me feel more at ease going forward."
Hermione smiled. "In due time, perhaps. I'm considering what I should tell you, Melok. As I indicated, I got to know you quite well, and some of what I might tell you would be indicators of your own future. Given the mutability of the timeline, if I tell you the wrong thing, it is distinctly possible that I will irrevocably alter what is meant to come to pass. While I have already admitted to a desire to change things, there is much that I hope would remain unchanged, too, and therefore I must be careful about what I say and to whom. As for your Mister Steward, for the time being I don't believe telling him where I come from is necessary. It isn't as though he needs to know in order to serve his purpose."
"He's a smart man," Melok admitted. "He may guess."
"He can guess all he likes," Sirius remarked. "That doesn't mean we have to confirm. That's how the game is played."
Melok raised an eyebrow. "Slytherin?"
Sirius looked insulted. "Perish the thought! Gryffindor, thank you very much. Raised in a house filled with Slytherins, though, so I suppose it rubbed off. I also dated a Slytherin for a while, so that didn't help."
Hermione gave him a knowing look. "A consummate Slytherin, at that."
"What of you, Hermione?" Melok asked. "What was your Hogwarts House?"
She smirked. "I think I'll leave you to guess on that one, Melok. I've been accused of each of them at various times over the years."
His first guess would be Ravenclaw, to be honest, but there was something cool and calculating and outright vicious in her way of thinking that made him wonder if her keen intelligence might have lended toward Slytherin. Of course, she'd mentioned being Muggleborn, and Muggleborns seldom sorted into what was often referred to as the House of Purebloods. Her loyalty toward her friends and loved ones was clear, given her goals upon arriving in this reality were anything but self-serving, rather geared toward saving a future and the lives of those she cared about, many of whom weren't even born yet. That could indicate Hufflepuff. Then again, to face what she was facing and show no sign of breaking down was by any definition brave beyond words, which was a strong indicator for Gryffindor House.
In fact, now that he thought about it, Gryffindors were loyal in their own way, and nothing said they couldn't be intelligent. That she was Muggleborn would likely have ruled her out for Slytherin, even if she had the sort of intelligence which had lent toward the sort of calculating mind Slytherin House favored. Hermione Granger was brave and bold and took everything she encountered in stride. She might have gone to Slytherin if she'd been born to Wizarding parents, but ultimately her ambitions weren't selfish enough to really be a classic Slytherin, in the end. No, the more he pondered the question, "Gryffindor," he finally said out loud. "I think Gryffindor for you as well. That said, I can see why others would guess otherwise, and I've only known you two days. You have many qualities favored by all the houses, and if someone didn't know you were a Muggleborn, you'd easily pass for Slytherin as a second guess."
Hermione smiled brightly. "In any reality, Melok, you really do just get me, don't you? Got it in one."
He blushed under her clear praise. "Right then, let's go meet Angus. He should be waiting for us."
The trio walked toward the Leaky Cauldron in silence, taking only a few more minutes before they arrived back at the pub. Angus was waiting for them at a table in the back, rising like the gentleman he was when he saw Melok approaching with his two companions. "Angus Steward," he greeted, offering his hand to Hermione first, and then to Sirius. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Sirius Black," the Wizard offered, causing Angus to raise an eyebrow, as while Melok knew Angus had never met the Head of the Black family, he was aware the Wizard had disappeared without a trace two years prior.
"Hermione Baker," the young Mage said, introducing herself. "Soon to be Black. Sirius is my betrothed. We can speak freely in front of him, Mister Steward. He's well aware I'm a Mage, as we've spent the last two years in captivity together."
"With your skill set I'm surprised it took two years for you to escape," Angus said as the four of them took a seat around the secluded table.
Melok was not surprised in the least when Hermione pulled out her wand and raised a few wards regardless of the privacy already in place by the location. "My wandless magic is above the average Witch or Wizard, sir," she replied curtly, "however even I am somewhat limited when I am starved, beaten, regularly under the Cruciatus Curse, and as mentioned, wandless."
Angus looked satisfied with her answer. "Fair enough, Miss Baker. I'm pleased that you and your betrothed managed to escape. Given I'm well aware he was married prior to his capture, I infer by implication that Madam Hesper Black was killed during capture?"
"She was," Sirius answered. "Hesper didn't last more than a few weeks after our capture, as they were more interested in me and she was simply a bystander in their minds when they captured the Head of the Blacks. Hermione and I, as consequence, have had some time to get to know one another and fall in love. That said, you seem awfully familiar with my family tree."
The Herbology Master waved his hand. "I'm something of a genealogy expert, aside from my Mastery. I came to the United Kingdom in the interest of discovering my family roots, which admittedly has been a struggle. In America, my family is somewhat noted, and the family suspects there was a reason our ancestor, Isolt Steward, initially left this area, although she left no record of it. I can't for the life of me find any record beyond what her maiden name was."
"That wouldn't be Isolt Sayre, would it?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Just how would you know that name, Miss Baker?" Angus asked, looking intrigued.
Melok was admittedly interested himself. "Yes, do tell."
"Ah, well," Hermione said, looking uncomfortable. "I can give you some direction, Mister Steward, in regard to what family name you would be looking for to trace backward from Isolt Sayre here in the UK. I would advise strongly against seeking out any remaining relatives, however. I know the name because I have researched the family in question extensively. By chance are you a Parselmouth?"
Angus frowned. "As a matter of fact, yes. I don't advertise the fact because I know full well how folk look at those who can talk to serpents. Another good question, how the hell did you know that?"
"Because it is a trait fairly common to Isolt Sayre's maternal family line," Hermione replied calmly. "At this point there are only two remaining members of the bloodline left. One is in Azkaban Prison. The other bloody well should be, although he's walking free and working on building a power base. Give him a few more years and he's going to make Grindelwald look like a minor problem."
"How could you possibly know what a man is going to do?" Angus asked, looking incredulous.
"We've crossed paths before," Sirius said, rubbing his temples. "Let's just say that in the obnoxious supervillain way, Tom Riddle was kind enough to brag about his plan for world domination, and Hermione and I are not inclined to call his bluff. He's evil - a Dark Lord in the truest sense."
"Riddle isn't a Wizarding name," Angus said. "That's not the name I'm looking for."
"No, the name you're looking for is Gaunt," Hermione said softly. "Morfin Gaunt is Tom Riddle's maternal uncle, and the one in Azkaban. He's hardly a step up from his nephew, mind you. Morfin is in Azkaban for good reason, and I wouldn't be surprised if Tom checks on him from time to time, so if you want to keep breathing, I'd advise against going to see Morfin. Tom is an expert Legilimens so anything Morfin sees or hears, you can count on Tom learning about it. Truly, Mister Steward, if you are at all wise you will stay as far away from Tom Riddle as you can. Seeking him out or giving him any means to seek you out - any clue you might be a relation - will get you killed. Tom does not suffer any sense of competition. He killed his father, his grandparents, and numerous others. He's been actively killing since he was still a student at Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake. There is nothing redeemable about him."
"Hell," Angus said.
Melok just sat back and listened, thinking about what Hermione had told him yesterday about coming from a world at war, and wondering if this Tom Riddle had been at the head of that conflict. There was certainly enough venom in her voice to indicate to him that she found him highly threatening, and he resolved to ask her about it after they were finished with their meeting with Angus. That said, he wanted to steer the conversation back on track. "All of that said," he pushed. "I believe we came here today to discuss Herbology?"
"Oh of course, of course!" the Grandmaster said, flushing a little at how distracted he'd gotten. "Forgive me. Miss Baker, Melok indicated you already have three of the five needed to be fully Awakened. May I inquire which three you already have? It will help direct how I set up your training."
She nodded. "I've gotten through Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms, in that order. I also have Arithmancy, which I got between Defense and Transfiguration."
"So no background in Potions at all, then?" he asked.
"I wouldn't say no background," she mused. "I don't have the Mastery, although I was brewing Polyjuice by the time I was thirteen, much to be bemusement of the Potions Master I knew at the time. I do believe when he found out I'd done it unsupervised he had something resembling a hissy fit."
Angus laughed. "Where were you educated? You didn't say."
"Home educated," she lied smoothly. "My parents moved around a little too much for me to be educated at a single school. I was Muggleborn, but they made sure I had the books I needed to learn, and I had tutors. They didn't want me growing up and never seeing them, so things worked out as they did. I'm thankful, as they were both killed when I was seventeen. I spent a number of years on the run, after that, and was eventually captured by Grindelwald's forces and after that, met Sirius. The rest, as they say, is history."
It wasn't a bad story, as stories went, Melok admitted to himself. Simple enough to maintain for Hermione, and would explain why nobody from her peer group would recall her from Hogwarts even if she was clearly British born and as such should have been educated at the school in Scotland. It was rare for Muggleborns to be home educated, although some Wizarding parents did go that route for various reasons, but not unheard of either. Melok would have to inquire if she'd known the Head of Hogwarts in her time well enough to have known that a Muggleborn who'd opted to home educate would have had their name removed from records as soon as the decision was made, or if she'd just been hoping nobody would check. An hour later the meeting was over, and Angus took his leave, and that was in fact the first question he posed to her before she and Sirius headed upstairs.
Hermione smiled. "I was well aware," she admitted. "I have known four different Heads of Hogwarts fairly well, although I got the information from one of them specifically."
"Four?" Sirius asked, looking puzzled for a moment. Then, after a pause, he seemed to remember something. "Oh, right, forgot about the year Severus was Head. Four."
"A short time for someone to be Head of Hogwarts," Melok mused.
"It was war," Hermione said with a sad sigh. "He was killed, as was the Head before him. The Head who succeeded Severus was the one I got the information from."
"Information junkies, the both of you," Sirius teased. "Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, she should be starting at Hogwarts sometime in the next few years, right?"
"This coming fall, I believe," Hermione replied. "If all goes as it did originally."
Melok remembered another question he'd wanted to ask. "This Tom Riddle fellow that Angus is related to - is he the Dark Lord you two were fighting in your reality?"
He could feel the Mage's magic tingle in the air, her anger almost tangible. "Oh yes," she said bitterly. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. He'll call himself Lord Voldemort, when he rises to power. I wish like hell I could stay out of the way of history and say it wasn't my Nifflerstorm, but that would be irresponsible. He has been my problem since I was twelve years old, and that's not changed now."
"Twelve?" Melok gaped. "How did you get on the bad side of a Dark bloody Lord at the age of twelve?"
Hermione and Sirius looked at one another, seeming to confer silently about something for a moment, before Sirius gave a nod. "You gotta, babe," the Wizard said. "You know you can trust him."
She sighed. "A number of years from now, there will be a prophecy about a child born with the power to defeat Voldemort. That child will be a boy called Harry. I met him on the train to Hogwarts, our first year, and while we didn't hit it off on the first day, it didn't take long after. It would take me years to understand that I had a Kinship bond with Harry, and while it was never sealed, that didn't negate the fact that I was driven beyond reason to be by his side as he spent the whole of his childhood fighting Voldemort, a war that would come to a head after we were no longer children. There's nothing I wouldn't do for Harry then, and nothing I wouldn't do for him now: the idea here, Melok, is that Harry had a miserable childhood, most of which involved fighting for his life, and if I can manage it, this time around Voldemort will be defeated before he's old enough to know what a Dark Lord is in any real context."
"What made this bastard so hard to defeat?" Melok wanted to know. "I mean, he's just a Wizard, after all."
"Not just any Wizard," she said seriously. "Aside from the fact that he's the Heir of Salazar Slytherin, a Parselmouth, and just this side of being a Mage, by nineteen eighty-one he was, or if I do nothing will be, a Wizard with seven Horcruxes."
"Horcruxes?" Melok croaked, disbelieving. Even Goblins wouldn't touch that type of Dark Magic, and they were well known for treading the line of Dark Arts.
"Indeed," Hermione replied quietly.
"Seven?" he spat, completely disgusted with this Dark Wizard.
Sirius grinned. "Does this mean we can count on your support for getting rid of the fucker?"
For once, Sirius' crass language didn't bother him. "Unequivocally," Melok agreed. "You have my vow."
Doctor James Watson was sitting at his desk when there was a tap at the window. While unusual, it was not an unprecedented sound to hear. Given he was not a Wizard and didn't often receive Owl Post, James didn't make a habit of leaving his window open at all times so that an Owl could come and go. In fact, his knowledge of what other things tended to climb in and out of windows made him more inclined to keep windows closed, but he did jump up to open the window now and allow the beautiful Sooty Owl inside. "Good evening Byron," he greeted.
The owl hooted in reply, dropping a rolled up bit of parchment on his desk and looking at him expectantly. James, well used to getting letters from Melok by now, among his other select contacts in the Wizarding world, grabbed a bag of Owl treats from his desk drawer and offered one to Byron, who took it thankfully and then flew back out the window, evidently not having been asked to wait for a reply. Sometimes Melok asked him to wait, sometimes he didn't. Nevertheless, Melok never wrote unless it was important, so James picked up the parchment and moved to a nearby armchair and sat down, unrolled the missive, and began to read at once.
Dear Doctor Watson,
I'm writing to inform you that I was approached yesterday afternoon by a young woman claiming to be a Mage. She is not fully awoken as of yet, having three of the five required disciplines mastered, although she has wisely sought me out in order to complete her training. How she knew to come to me I cannot say at this time. I do know, my friend, however it is not my secret to tell. She is an intriguing woman, I must admit, and I'm looking forward to working with her.
Her name is Hermione. Her surname is more or less irrelevant, as she is to be married very shortly to one Sirius Black, at which time she'll take her husband's surname. He is aware she's a Mage and in full support of her continued training, which is refreshing coming from the Head of a Pureblood House. Most in his position would not allow a wife to gain more power than he could hope to amass, but he not only allows it - he encourages it. Hermione and Sirius have just come from being held captive for several years by Grindelwald's forces, and I believe the bond they share is somewhat unique compared to their peers. I digress.
I shall leave it in your hands to forward this information to Doctor Magnus and whoever else you feel, within the Sanctuary Network, needs be informed. I believe Hermione to be stable, and if she proves to be otherwise, I will of course let you know. If you require any other information, that whistle I gave you will summon Byron to deliver a letter to me, or in case of emergency, the Floo to Gringotts remains open to you for calling. I must admit, that while I do believe Hermione to be stable, there is something about her - something odd - that gives me pause. Please don't take that as a warning so much as a point of curiosity, my friend. She is a puzzle to figure out, James, and Gods know that you do love a good puzzle. She's given me some of her life story, and while I believe what she has told me, I do know there is much she has withheld. I hope to learn the full truth in due time and I hope that with that time and truth, more trust will grow, but in the meantime, I maintain a certain care with her. I feel this sense of not knowing what I'm getting myself into, and given I've trained my whole life to work with a Mage, it is odd to me that I should feel so unprepared as I do now.
Hermione is nothing like what I expected in a Mage. She is somehow… more. I believe she will exceed every expectation I could possibly put on her.
My best to Helen.
Warmest Regards,
Melok
James put the letter on his lap, and leaned back, thinking. A Mage. It had been some time since a Mage had surfaced, and the last one that had done so had turned into an Obscurial and died. Before that had been Nicolas Flamel, and he'd been grown and Awakened before James, Helen, and the rest had become aware of their existence. Of course, like Melok he was very familiar with the lore. Other than Melok, James and Helen were probably the only ones alive who had a chance in hell of training a Mage if it came down to it, although James and Helen were far too busy with their other responsibilities to do such a thing, and in reality, training Mages was not their purview. That was what Melok's family had been doing for generations, and they were best left to it. In fact, it would have been Melok's great-grandfather who had trained Flamel, James mused. Goblins lived a long time, but Flamel had employed alchemy and had been around for centuries now.
Curiosity getting the better of him, James grabbed the Owl whistle out of his desk and called Byron back before the creature got too far out, and quickly wrote a note to his Goblin friend requesting a meeting with this Hermione as soon as it was manageable. He just wanted to size her up himself before writing a letter to Helen to report. He didn't think that was unreasonable. Melok responded later that evening that he'd bring her by the following day sometime, so it was no surprise when, just after lunch the following afternoon, the doorbell to his home rang and at his door was Melok and a young woman.
"Come in," he offered, opening the door wide. "Welcome to the London Sanctuary."
"Alright, Melok," the young woman said, clearly pouting. "I'm here as requested, despite the cloak and dagger. Now will you introduce me to your friend?"
"You didn't tell her who she was meeting?" James asked. "That was rude."
"That's what I said," she agreed. "I'm Hermione Baker. You are?"
"My name is James Watson. I wanted to introduce myself on behalf of my employer, Doctor Helen Magnus…" he didn't get any further along in his speech before she offered a wide grin.
"Really? You work for Magnus? Well, the daughter, I guess. I'd heard of her father, although from what I knew she carried on his work with protecting creatures. I was hoping to connect with you lot at some point."
Melok frowned. "The Sanctuary is one of the best kept secrets in the world, aside from the existence of the magical community. I'm astounded that you know about it."
"I was never told specifically about the Sanctuary," Hermione admitted. "I was simply told about a man called Gregory Magnus who worked, against the will of the Ministry oftentimes, to protect creatures who fell between the cracks of the Magical and Muggle worlds. I gave my word that I'd offer my support to Doctor Magnus if ever I made contact with him. I don't see why that promise wouldn't extend to his daughter if she is carrying on his legacy, although I'd love to meet Gregory at some point."
James suddenly understood what Melok had meant when he said this young woman was a puzzle. She knew things, clearly, that she wasn't meant to know. She was very young, and it was odd to suggest that she knew of Gregory when Gregory had been missing, presumed dead, for almost ten years now, and had been sitting on the back burner of actively running the Sanctuary for decades longer. Given how old Hermione appeared, it was far more likely she'd have encountered a contact of Helen's rather than a contact of Gregory's. "You've got me off guard, ma'am," he admitted after a pause. "I expected to have to give you an appraisal of our work."
"In fairness, I know very little," she admitted. "My contact was keeping his promise of secrecy to Doctor Magnus - Gregory, that is - and confided very little. The only reason I was trusted with as much as he did tell me was because we were discussing creatures which bordered the Magical and Muggle worlds in the course of my Charms Mastery."
His eyes widened in new understanding. "Golems," he whispered. "Helen had an injured Golem show up at Old City a few years ago, but I've never had a chance to visit her there and see the creature. I understand they are quite amazing."
"Just so," she allowed. "Incredible creatures which few in the Wizarding world know much about. I was fortunate to have a Grandmaster in Charms teaching me who had an unusual respect for them, and beyond teaching the spells to reveal them and even control them, taught me the value in allowing them to maintain their autonomy. Fi…he was a great man, with a deep respect for all creatures of all levels of intelligence."
"I find it curious that you hesitate to name him," James remarked. "Especially considering if he knew or knows Gregory Magnus, he might be a mutual acquaintance."
"Get me a meeting with Helen Magnus and I'll be more inclined to share, Doctor Watson," Hermione offered. "I believe I can trust you, as much as I trust Melok, but I wasn't expecting to meet you today and to be honest I need time to ponder what to share and what not to share prior to committing to that course of action. I'm sure you of all people can understand that knowledge can be dangerous."
"Me of all people?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You act as though you know anything about me."
"I know what blood runs through your veins," she said guardedly.
That got his attention. "How is it you've come by this knowledge, Miss Baker? That is a closely guarded secret, even among those within the Sanctuary."
"That information was entrusted to me by a good friend who helped me out of a bind, once," Hermione said casually. "Get me a meeting with Doctor Magnus, and I'll give you my source."
"I didn't bring you here to make demands, Hermione," Melok said pointedly.
"No, Melok, you brought me here because Doctor Watson requested it," she countered. "He wanted to size me up, which is reasonable, I suppose. Now that I know who he is, it doesn't even surprise me. My contact did mention you, a time or two, Doctor Watson. He indicated you have a bit of a passion for puzzles."
"Admittedly," he confessed. "That said, Mages fall under the purview of the Sanctuary given that even among Wizarding kind they are Abnormal. Melok was required, per our Charter, to inform us once you surfaced. I merely wanted to meet you before writing my report to Helen."
"Well do ensure your report includes a request for a visit to London," she said with a smirk. "I'd offer to fetch her myself but I've never been to her home. I'll be able to take her back, though."
"Either way you'll have never seen her home," James said, confused. "How will her arrival change your ability to transport her?"
"Once she's here, I can use Legilimency on her - use magic to look into her mind and view her memory of her home - and then use that memory to direct the Apparation," Hermione explained.
"Years of having half a foot in the Wizarding world, and I still have so much to learn," James admitted. "Alright then, I'll write to her. Melok, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll forward the letter to you via Byron and then have you take it to the Owlery in Diagon Alley to send by one of those International Owls. It'll get there in half the time if not sooner, that way."
Melok nodded his head in agreement. "Consider it done, my friend. At some point, though, you really should just get your own bloody Owl. Not that Byron isn't fond of you, but…"
"However would I explain that to my staff?" he laughed. "Bad enough the fines the Ministry already slaps Helen and I with for breaking the Statute as it is!"
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