The owl came two days later, by which time Hermione was already on tenterhooks, and quite jumpy. School was back in session in less than two weeks, and every day lost was worrisome. She couldn't be expected to freely associate her time after school started; there were classes to teach, papers to grade, and of course, detentions to serve. She expected to give off a few, having been warned about how students often tested the waters with new teachers.
Hermione was infinitely glad that it was too early for a new Weasley generation as of yet. Although she reckoned Teddy Lupin was due next year or so. She didn't worry about Lupins as much as she worried about Weasleys. She doubted anyone worried more about any children than they did about the trademark red haired family.
She was applying finishing touches on the schedules for each year, though she was a week early. The headmistress had only requested that teaches submit their schedules a week ahead of the first day of term. It was then that the large brown eagle owl delivered the sealed envelope to her desk. Pulling out a dish of water and owl treats from her bottom draw, Hermione offered them to the bird, who sniffed suspiciously before tentatively picking up a treat.
Hermione rolled her eyes, and proceeded to break the seal. A small slip of paper fell to the desk, before a larger bunch of papers. The paper was signed by Arthur Weasley, and read:
"I don't know why you needed this information, but here is all that we have on the Paranoid Seal, owners and patent information; Albus said it was important, so I hope you find what you're looking for. By the way, Molly asks after you, although, we are sorry about what happened. You are welcome at the burrow anytime, Hermione, and don't you pay attention to what Molly says."
Hermione smiled and spared a moment to write a sincere thank you note to Mr. Weasley, before she tackled the fat wad of papers. The bird, having eaten it's fill, took the note and left, while she asked for tea from Winky.
The first page had the name of the patent owner, which was curiously listed as "Private" which meant that the information was not available to the general public. She wondered if Arthur had included the private details, since he had the power to access it, and ruffled through the later papers. Of course Arthur had included it, seeing that the request was from Dumbledore himself. The patent was registerd to one Jonathan Morshey Smithe, residing in West Devonshire, and the address of operation was also listed the same, meaning Mr. Smithe ran the business from the same place as his residence; a home industry, if you will.
Hermione found nothing of any particular interest in this little bit of information, although she now had an address. She thought she might just visit the company soon, curiosity be sated.
She went back to reading the details of the patent, which she was sure was not available to anyone except those directly concerned with the department or higher, and thanked the stars that she had contacts. Well, it really was the work of Albus, same difference.
There were no exact details of how the charm was executed, trade secrets of course, but there was a good amount of detail describing the effects and the caliber of the results, which Hermione found impressive. The theory was sound, and the caliber astonishingly high. Whoever Mr. Smithe was, she certainly understood the paranoia. He seemed like a perfectionist, and considering that there were no other listed partners and number of employees listed between 2-5, he certainly must be quite picky.
Hermione's interest was quite peaked. It would be an interesting thing to meet with Mr. Smithe, if he allowed it. Perhaps he would be less inclined to meet with journalists.
That made her stop. Journalists, newspapers, advertisements... the Quibbler!
That's why it had seemed so familiar! There was only one paper that ran ads for the Paranoid Charm, and that was the Quibbler! It was unusual that something that was such a success chose one of the least read papers to proclaim it's virtues, or call for applications. She vaguely recalled Luna telling her about the opportunity, which she probably declined because of the whole Ron affair.
Hermione snorted; she was talking about it as if it were some huge scandal. Pouring herself some more tea, she decided that she would talk to Luna in the morning. She asked to take her dinner in her quarters , while she read through the rest of the papers and made a note of the address, wondering how to get the man to grant a meeting.
She almost dropped her pumpkin juice when a small cough sounded from the living room portrait, above the hearth.
"Professor Dumbledore," she said a bit breathlessly, and smiled nervously. It was a bit annoying sometimes; Hope never spoke so Hermione had forgotten about the portrait.
"Did I startle you Hermione?"
Hermione felt that he sometimes waited just so he could startle her, and beam like that; she smiled and nodded.
"Oh well," he twinkled, not entirely innocently, and gestured to the papers she held, "Arthur sent you those?"
"Oh?" she remembered the papers, "Yes, professor. Thank you so much! This has been most useful. In fact the charm is impressively planned and executed, although I can't say more for lack of details." She paused, and hesitated before adding, "It would be so interesting to meet Mr. Smithe, and learn more."
Dumbledore twinkled and smiled, stroking his beard. "Mr. Smithe is a very private man."
"I suppose, err wait..." she looked up suspiciously, "how do you know Mr. Smithe?"
"Oh, just like that, he was my acquaintance for many years, we grew to be, not exactly friends, but close over time."
Hermione didn't know if portraits could be killed. Maybe if she poured thinner... she suddenly had an image of her laughing maniacally while the portrait's occupant screamed and... she shook herself from these dark thoughts.
Dumbledore seemed to understand that she was miffed, and it was made a little better when he said he's try to see if he could be persuaded to meet with Hermione, even for a short while.
Even if Hermione was grateful and excited, something nagged at her thoughts. This was somehow far too easy; there had to be a catch somewhere.
Dumbledore left a short while later, avoiding any questions about Mr. Smithe. It was rather iffy, and Hermione was now a little wary of her impending possible meeting with Mr. Smithe. It was rather late, and Hermione was tired. She no longer had the unending energy as she did in school, and it was somehow better that she got plenty of sleep most days.
It seemed like she had gained quite a bit of sleep debt in her year of wandering with Harry and Ron, where sleep wouldn't come out of fear, and they had to always be on the watch.
The first night after the war was won, Hermione had not slept at all; she had worried that if she did, she might wake up and find that it had been a dream. Eventually, Harry had cottoned on, and slipped her some dreamless sleep during dinner, where she ate like a zombie, and talked out of a fog.
And then she had slept for nearly two days.
Reflecting on things past, Hermione fell asleep, and dreamed of better things.